The siege

They were at the gates, knocking.

It was only a matter of time before they managed to get inside. They were robots, he'd had to accept that in the end. But that was not a good thing. Quite the opposite.

It made things even more complicated.

In other words, robots couldn't feel fear. And that was perhaps the greatest weapon in a situation where you were outnumbered. It was in the top three, at the very least....

And they didn't have access to it, because they weren't fighting human beings.

But they managed.

They always found a way.

One of the cabinets fell to the floor, serving as a very loud alarm. Jonathan turned his head so quickly that it made a cracking noise.

It had been upstairs.

Through the broken window, four of those things crawled. Without making a sound. It was good, in a sense, the inability of his enemies to make noise.

Not because they couldn't communicate that way, but because it was one less distraction.

"Here!" Jonathan shouted, but the others had already noticed.

Mary clicked her tongue, climbed onto one of the benches, gathering momentum, her leap carrying her to the balcony on the floor above.

The hammer appeared in her hand. Everyone had a similar system with the nanomachines, to deploy and make their weapons disappear quickly. Everyone except Jamie, that is. Her staff was explosive in more ways than one. It wouldn't work. It wouldn't. It would blow up in her face, literally.

As if to get back at the one who'd almost had her, Mary wielded her big hammer in fury. She smashed the head of one of them with a single blow, before the others could even stand up, let alone react.

One second lunged at her, stretching out its arms, opening its mouth. But he fell quickly, and like the other. She struck him in the side with the hammer, brandishing it with both hands, and the force of the impact plunged it inward.

Mary executed a second blow.

This time, nothing sank. Quite the contrary.

The second blow sent the robot's head flying, spilling its black blood. Two had fallen in about the same amount of seconds.

Unfortunately, not everything could remain as easy as it had been, of course.

Even though they had just started, they were in trouble.

For the following reason.

The third one got lucky, entering her blind spot while she was dispatching the second one. By the time she realized it, by the time he realized it, it was too late.

Mary was rammed, hurling himself against the railing behind her. A wooden railing, like most of the building, as well as the settlements on the fringes of the system in general.

In other words...

The railing creaked. Mary's back sank a few inches, moving closer to the ground.

With the third robot still on top of her.

"Hold on!" Jonathan shouted. He could climb up to help her the same way she had gotten there in the first place. Climb up to the bench and then jump.

He wasn't the fittest of them all, but it should be easy. He had done things like this thousands of times in the past.

The only thing that changed was the fear that gripped him.

The fear that had returned, with the entrance of the robots, the beginning of this madness for which everything indicated a bad ending.

He would have made it, for sure. The jump.

But Jonathan didn't even have time to try. Four robots had come through the window. Not three, four.

In other words, the fourth one jumped on her too. And the railing, old and cracked, couldn't take any more weight.

"Fuck!"

It broke, and all three fell.

"I got you! I got you!" Jonathan shouted as he ran, as if trying to reassure her even though right now she probably couldn't even hear him.

The rest of the world had vanished before his eyes. All he could see was Mary and her hammer.

He ran with all his strength, with more than he had, even. He drew strength from places that only came to light in situations like these.

But it wasn't enough.

Everything happened too fast.

They hit the ground. There was a crunching sound so violent and nauseating that for a moment Jonathan seriously feared that Mary had broken her neck.

She hadn't.

She was writhing on the floor, complaining about her back, with one hand on her lower back. But her neck was in place.

What wasn't in place was the hammer.

It had slipped out of her hands, rolling across the floor. Now it was stuck in the gap under a bench, not able to slide all the way in.

For a moment I thought...

He had feared the worst.

Jonathan took a deep breath, but didn't stop running for a moment. She was fine, but she wasn't out of danger yet, that much was clear.

One of the robots "woke up". It crawled across the floor, without getting up, and grabbed Mary by the ankle as she did try to get up. Sending her to the floor again with a groan of surprise.

The other rose, hovering over her.

Roxy, with her daggers, got there long before him. From behind she sliced the neck of the standing robot. She did a graceful spin on the tip of her heels, the robot and she exchanging positions.

Then she kicked him in the center of the chest. Knocking him to the ground.

He wasn't dead, but that didn't matter to her, of course.

Meanwhile, Mary was trying to retrieve her hammer, but her fingers couldn't reach it. Just barely missed it, just barely, really. But the enemy wouldn't let her bridge that short distance, before he got on top of her.

That what had happened before, in the city, would repeat itself.

But it didn't.

Roxy came to the rescue, jumping on the robot's back to then stab again and again. In the back, in the neck, in the back of the head. A violent frenzy.

Until the robot stopped.

Roxy pushed it away with her foot. She stood up, bathed in that tar-black blood.

Looking only at Mary.

"Are you all right?" she asked, extending a hand toward her friend.

"Yes," Mary replied, a slight blush taking her cheeks. She shouldn't be ashamed of having had to be saved, even if it had happened twice in the same day and without much of a gap.

That was what they were there for.

They were there to cover for each other. To help each other. As a family.

Like a family better than their real families.

Jamie was keeping to herself. In a situation like this, she didn't want to be too active. Too many explosions and she'd dry up taking care of groups of four or five at a time, out there, being useless for when they really needed her.

So it was best to not use her for now.

Reserve her for when the situation became untenable.

In other words, for when the tide on the other side of the walls came here to kill them all.

"Not bad," Jamie commented.

Jonathan licked his lips. He thought: It's only been the first four. How many more are left?

Dozens and dozens, but that wasn't an accurate count. There were so many that he would have had to stop and count to find out, and of course he hadn't had time.

Dozens.

Would it be close to a hundred? Or would they have exceeded that number?

Enough useless speculation.

Two more alarms went off.

Taking a quick look around, he could only see one of the breaches. Of course. Because the second of the alarms activated had been in the back.

"I'll take the back," Jonathan said, and they split up.

Jonathan went to the back. In the kitchen, he encountered more resistance than he had expected. At least a dozen of the things had already broken through.

He hadn't counted on that many at once, especially in the back.

Jonathan took a step back.

Perhaps the time had come to call Jamie. It was no good using her explosions unnecessarily, as there were too many enemies and she would soon run dry.

She had understood this herself, without him having to say anything.

But this already counted as necessary, as an emergency, didn't it?

A dozen at least. A little more. And he was only one person. It would be hard to deal with so many at once even if his opponents were human.

Even if they could feel pain. And fear.

Even if they backed down or were incapacitated by suffering serious injuries, like a severed arm.

Incidentally, in these things it could be said that there weren't such things as serious injuries. He nearly cracked the skull in half of the first one they encountered. And it didn't do much to him.

If that wasn't a serious injury, what was?

So yeah. He thought he was justified in calling Jamie, asking for her help, expending an explosion.

He thought so, but changed his mind.

I can handle this, Jonathan told himself.

He planted his feet on the ground. Made his stance firmer. He stayed where he was, waiting for them to come to him as he held the sword in both hands. Ready to put his whole body behind every attack.

Among all the disadvantages he had to deal with, there was the disadvantage of fighting in a kitchen.

Namely, it wasn't the most spacious place. Obstacles everywhere.

But the same applied in reverse.

I can do this, he repeated himself.

The first of the robots came within range of his sword.

Jonathan swung it, swiveling his hips, putting all his body weight and all his strength into the blow. But his enemy didn't simply wait to be hit, counting on being able to take it.

No. He didn't.

What he did was raise an arm, striking the blow. And something else.

The sword plunged deep into the robot's arm, but didn't quite cut it off. So it got stuck there. Between skin, flesh and muscle.

Yes.

Its blood was as black as a robot's. But inside, through the wound, nothing else could be seen to indicate it. Everything was fleshy and moist.

Human.

Enough, what's the use of questioning things now?

Jonathan gritted his teeth, snarling and baring them all. As he pushed and pushed, trying to remove the sword from inside that arm.

His efforts weren't working, though.

It was really fucking stuck.

With the other hand, meanwhile, the robot hit him. It was a slap, but with incredible force, greater than that of a clenched fist.

The impact slammed him against the refrigerator.

His ears ringed, his head spun. Ironically, disoriented as he was, it was only then that he realized that his efforts had been as futile as they were unnecessary.

He could have simply retracted to retrieve the weapon. There was no need at all to pull the sword.

It was too late to realize it, but better late than never, he told himself.

Yes. Better late than never.

The thing hadn't even started and it was already slipping out of his hands, slipping out of everything? Fuck no.

Jonathan wouldn't allow it.

But he didn't do that to get it back. What he did do was reach for a kitchen knife, with his free hand. That knife he skewered into the robot's retina, pushing deep inside.

All the way to the brain.

Yes. They weren't human, but they were humanoid enough. He could trust that they had the same weaknesses.

Jonathan pulled the sword from the dead robot's arm, using the method he had described earlier.

And the knife from its eye, simply by pushing. It came out with ease.

The robot collapsed to the ground at his feet. Still writhing. As if it had any life left in it. Well, that wasn't the right word, when it had never had any.

(really?)

but the fact is that this was an involuntary action. A reflex, nothing more.

He was dead.

One down, to go... Many. So many.

The others kept moving towards him, relentlessly. Without a second's hesitation. Without a glance at the fallen for even a second.

Of course, they didn't have the capability to care about one of their own.

They weren't human.

They had never been human, and never would be. They were nothing more than robots, despite the fact that all he had cut so far had been skin, flesh and muscle, even bone.

They weren't.

The group had split into two. Each circling the countertop between them on one side. Left and right.

I can do this, he thought.

No, we can do it.

He lunged for them, resuming the battle.

■

Considering the situation, Jamie had had the privilege of being fairly calm. With nothing to do. Wanting to, because of course she wanted to help her friends rather than stand around, but it was still true.

That was over in an instant, though.

She hadn't noticed, as those things barely made a sound, but there was one of those strange robots approaching from behind.

Apparently, it had managed to slip away from Mary and Roxy.

And now it was after her.

What a scare it had given her.

Jamie took several steps back, not taking her eyes off the enemy. He wasn't dangerous to her. She could reduce him to ashes in an instant.

However, there was the question of whether she should.

No one had needed to tell her that she should keep her explosive charges for when things got really bad, otherwise it would be a waste. It went without saying.

Even now, with fear hammering at her heart, she understood. Their explosions were valuable, they might even be the trump card that would get them out of this shit alive.

But...

She was alone, with the robot closing in on her, and how else was she going to get rid of it?

The robot had started running after her as soon as it saw her move. She didn't have time to make a decision.

Hand to hand?

She wasn't good at it; she wouldn't get anything accomplished that way. Jamie should practice it, and she was, but she was still bad at it.

No matter how many beatings Jonathan and Mary gave her, trying to teach her.

It's okay just once, she told herself, apologizing internally to Jonathan and the others anyway.

The son of a bitch's head exploded.

For a moment, Jamie thought she had done that. But then she saw a hammer hit the ground, only to keep sliding across it, whirling like a spinning top.

A blood-soaked hammer. Mary's hammer.

Her teammate had thrown it from the floor above, saving her at the last second. With exceptional accuracy.

They looked at each other.

"Thank you," Jamie said. It seemed too simple, but she didn't know what else she could say.

"You're welcome."

■

He managed...

(Cutting skin and flesh, cutting human beings)

Until he stopped managing.

It was a moment of bad luck, a small mistake. But it was enough to make him end up on the ground, with the remaining robots on top of him, burying him.

Jonathan felt as if his chest was being crushed by a huge rock. He could barely breathe.

As for moving, even less.

One of the robots threw its hands around his neck, squeezing with all its might. He realized that his hands were strangely cold, like those of a corpse.

Or perhaps the opposite would have been strange.

Jonathan couldn't even think as he was. But something had to be done. And he could do it. He had been overpowered, but he had not lost his sword.

Jonathan attacked.

Slowly but violently. He let out a hoarse, evil, rage-filled roar as he went on and on. Chunks of flesh flew, blood flew. He felt as if he had turned himself into a meat-grinder.

In that way, he managed to split the four robots above him in half.

At the same time, since they had unintentionally aligned themselves with him.

Not always exactly in the middle, but he had succeeded. He had gotten rid of them. Those who hadn't already died would die soon enough.

Panting heavily, Jonathan shoved the four of them off him. Then he crawled to the side. Not far, but just far enough.

One of those bastards was still persistent.

He was writhing on the ground, as if trying to reach him, but he could never get to him. Not before it finally died. It made his hair stand on end that even in that state he was able to move.

It chilled the blood in his veins to see that his expression hadn't changed one iota.

It was unsettling, even if it was nothing more than a robot. Jonathan's brain expected to see something, because it looked like a human being even if it wasn't, so he waited for the natural reaction. But there was nothing, nothing at all.

With his back against the counter, Jonathan wiped the blood from his face with the back of one hand.

Well, more like smeared it across his face. But at least now the concentration wasn't so thick and it wasn't bothering him as much, nor making it hard on his eyesight.

For the moment he would settle for that since he didn't exactly have time to wash it off.

"I didn't think it would be so hard for me," Jonathan said truthfully, talking to himself for no reason.

Perhaps as if to confirm that he had made it after all. As if saying it out loud would change anything, for better or worse.

Yes, it had been hard for him. But the important thing was that he had succeeded after all.

No one could take that away from me.

Jonathan glanced at the door. It was still open, of course, he hadn't had time or space to close it. The surprising thing was that there were no other robots behind the door, trying to get in that way.

For the moment.

For the moment, so he had to take advantage of the small bit of good fortune that another half dozen hadn't come in while he dealt with the other robots.

Jonathan made his way through the kitchen, almost slipping on the dead bodies... nay, piles of scrap metal and spilled blood everywhere.

He closed the door and, again, blocked it with the table. Dragging it. It didn't take him long.

"All right. That's it. "Once again, he talked to himself unnecessarily. That's a sign of insanity, he thought.

Maybe the insanity had always been there. Maybe it took a little insanity to get them where they needed to go.

It had worked so far.

Little by little, they could do it. Jonathan decided to forget how many they had killed and how many were left to kill, something he couldn't even guess at.

Bit by bit...

They could do anything.

■

And they did.

For a while. They went very far, probably farther than any other group of people would have gone in their place. But not all the way to the finish line.

In other words, things got out of hand.

There were only four of them and the building was of considerable size, even though it was only two stories high. Of course they wouldn't have been able to perfectly control the robots' entry, of course nothing, nothing, could have remained so easy....

And it got out of hand.

They backed off, as the robots poured in like a tidal wave.

Looking to tear them apart.

They wouldn't spare a single one. They were cold killing machines; they knew not the word mercy. These, in particular, didn't seem to know any words.

It was enough for them to kill.

Jonathan took a deep breath.

He could answer that. If they struck, he would strike back. He was a fucking vindictive person. That had also served him well in his years as a mercenary, as counterproductive as it might seem.

Had it gotten out of hand? No. This was the real beginning, and something he had known would happen from minute one.

Of course they would get into the building like this sooner or later.

That was why they had worked so hard to delay that eventuality, not prevent it. Even being optimistic it hadn't occurred to him that they would prevent it.

That was why he had set traps all over the building.

Preparation.

Because this would happen.

Because they knew that the real battle begins here and now.

So many, he thought. Dozens. This way, they looked as if they hadn't reduced in number at all. Glass tinkled, fell out of the window frames. Scattered rays of sunlight filtered through the windows.

A light that seemed to come from another world.

"Okay. Girls..." Jonathan searched for the right words. "This is the end of the line. For them."

His temples were bursting with pain.

"Fuck yeah!" He didn't know who had shouted that. It didn't matter either.

And they prepared for the inevitable battle, but no sooner had it begun than it was interrupted. All the robots, absolutely all of them, stopped, frozen like statues.

Even before the voice rose above the silence.

"Jonathan Townshend," the voice called out a name. His name. He felt a shiver. "I know you're there. You don't need to hide. You've killed many of my people... so I'll tell you what. Let's settle all this quickly, simply and painlessly. Come out here. Have a duel with me. Whoever wins takes it all."

A human voice, in the middle of this ghost town, full of robots that would go after any intruder.

That voice... it had to be the one who had done all of this.

Done? Done what? His mind echoed back to him. Jonathan tried not to think about what it was about, since it was better for his sanity. He knew he could never forget it. And that if he went any further, he'd hit headlong into the truth, in all likelihood....

But he didn't want to think about it.

"What if I refuse?" He answered the request with a question.

"Then my people will return to the charge. And it will end as it must end, as if I had never been there. Just like that, Jonathan Townshend."

It was annoying to be called by his full name over and over again.

Jonathan looked around at his teammates, at the building.

At the army of robots that surrounded them from all directions, that would pounce on them at any moment, as soon as the guy gave the order.

Then, he carefully reviewed his options.