"Look at that, clean shot in the head and they go down easy," said Ortiz.

  Ross ducked back down into cover, looking out for any sign of movement. He was about to get up to continue forward when the sound of engines passing overhead forced him back down. He watched one of the smaller aircraft come in to land on the rooftop of the box-like building at the centre of the facility.

  "Shit, what now?" Olsen asked.

  Ross shrugged.

  "What do we do?"

  "This changes nothing. Give the signal."

  He waved back to the others as the aircraft came to a standstill. Moments later an enemy utility vehicle appeared on the road heading for the facility. But Ross wasn't hiding from this one. He watched and waited as it passed them by.

  "You think this is gonna work?"

  "Wouldn't be doing it if I didn't, Max. Right now they've got no reason to fear us. No reason to think anyone would be coming for them. It’s time we changed that."

  They watched it pull up at the front gate. Everything hinged on this one moment.

  "Come on, open the gate, open the gate," whispered Ross.

  For a moment nothing happened, and they were all starting to doubt the plan. Then finally, movement, and the gate began to slowly retract.

  "This is it. We're a go. Go, go, go!"

  Olsen drew a flare and fired it up into the sky. In the early hours of the morning it didn't light up much, but it was clear to see for all. Ross looked to the compound as the flare soared over it. The ramp of the aircraft was down, and he was studying everything he could see through the scope of his rifle. That's when he spotted something he remembered. The gold leaf ranking on the shoulder of one of the soldiers coming down the ramp, like the others had seen. It had to be significant. That one wasn't like the rest. Smarter, and less machine like. Ross clenched his fist, imagining ringing the life out of it, if it was indeed living.

  "Must be the guy in charge," said Olsen.

  "Damn straight, he's mine," replied Ross angrily. A thunderous engine noise rang out as the Tuckers' truck blitzed past them. Payne was standing on the top, with an M2 heavy machine gun mounted on the roll bar. He opened fire, and the sound was incredible. The rounds hammered into the nearest tower to the front of the facility, as the captured vehicle they used pressed forward and struck the inner gate. It rocked to a halt, unable to break through.

  "Shit," said Ross.

  The rounds continued to thunder from the .50 calibre machine gun. Ross holstered his pistol, took up his rifle, and ran out from cover, sprinting across the open ground.

  An explosion burst out into the sky as one tower went up in flames, and Payne turned the gun on the next one. But they were still racing for the gate, without a way through.

  "What are they doing?" Olsen tried to catch up with Ross.

  "Whatever they can!"

  The truck didn't slow until the last minute as the machine gun continued to rage and cause complete chaos. Three more of the enemy appeared on a parapet beside the gate, but Payne turned the weapon on them, too, punching holes right through the steel wall. The Tuckers were in the front of the truck, Jam firing his AK at whatever he could see.

  "What are you doing?" Jam panicked as he was loading in a new magazine and could see they were fast approaching the stopped vehicle.

  "Hold on to your asses!" Lem hollered.

  Jam pushed back in his seat, driving his feet down into the foot well, as if reaching for some non-existent brakes.

  "What are you doing?"

  They rammed the stuck vehicle, and with an almighty crash burst through the inner gate, taking the vehicle with them. But they didn't stop. Lem veered off, pushing the wreckage off to one side. Payne recovered as they came to a stop. His head was bloody where he'd struck the roll bar on impact. But he shrugged it off as he saw movement ahead, a dozen of the enemy coming for them. The door opened on the wreckage ahead of them, and Ramos and Miles leapt out, firing as they went. Flashes of light came at them, striking the truck. Payne felt someone tugging at him, but he was still stunned.

  He looked aside. Lem was trying to haul him over as rounds landed all around him.

  "Come on, get down!"

  Payne shrugged him off, pushed him aside, and got back up behind the Browning.

  "Payback time."

  He smiled as he took up the gun. He squeezed the trigger, and the huge weapon thundered and spat rounds once more. Dirt was kicked up all around as the rounds smashed into the enemy ahead of them. A horn rang out at their backs, and he looked around. A school bus came into view. Kim was at the wheel.

  "A decade flying jets, and this is what I get," she said.

  "Burns, Pope, Mikey, and Emma were sitting on the seats immediately behind her, rifles in hand and ready to join the fight. Burns had his bolt action slung over his back, never wanting to be without it, but had one of Miles’ Kalashnikovs in hand, which he opened fire with. A shot glanced Emma’s arm. She winced in pain, briefly losing hold of her rifle as she ducked down for cover.

  “Emma!” Miles rushed to her side.

  She was already looking at the wound as he reached her. She shrugged it off before he could get a word in, and got up to return fire. The Browning was still raging overhead, as Payne ripped apart a dozen more enemy coming out of the building ahead of them.

  Another shot struck Payne square in the chest, and he was thrown back off the back of the truck, landing hard on his back as Ross rushed through the open gates. He looked down to his wounded comrade for a second and turned back to the fight, knowing one of the others would go to his aid. Finally, he had a moment to glance back. Lee and Foster were helping him into cover. A shot hit the car beside them, followed by several others raining down from above. One landed a metre from Ross’ foot. He rushed to cover beside Payne and the others.

  “Where the hell’s that coming from?” Olsen ducked in beside him.

  The rest of the group were all going for cover. Ross peered over the truck. At least six enemy soldiers were firing down from the roof, and at the centre of them, one stood out from the rest.

  “It’s him, the one that chased us out of town,” said Lee.

  It didn’t just look different to the others. It acted differently. It looked more human in its movements, surveying the scene, and enjoying the view of them cowering down below.

  “This is the one that tried to take you out?” Ross asked, as Emma and Miles leapt in beside them. She took a good look for herself, leaping back as more shots smashed into the truck.

  “That’s the asshole.”

  “Ross,” Payne gasped as he tried to get air in.

  “What is it?”

  “In the back of the truck.”

  “What is?”

  “You’ll know.”

  He leapt up to look into the bed, and there it was. He knew exactly what Payne meant. His Milkor MGL was stowed ready for use.

  “Do it!”

  Engines roared out overhead as the aircraft on top of the building began to lift off. He snatched the launcher from the bed just as a shot landed where his hand had been. He slammed it back into the vehicle, and the sound of the engines grew louder.

  “Do it!” Payne shouted again, as the fire continued raining down on top of them.

  He took a deep breath before rising up. He took aim at the edge of the rooftop. There were four enemies in sight at the edge. The one in charge had gone. The aircraft was sheltered by the low angle he had. But he took aim and pulled the trigger. A shell hit the edge of the building, blowing one soldier off the edge as the explosion ripped chunks from the roof. He fired another without hesitation. The shell landed at the feet of another, and it vanished in a fireball, the others blown apart by shrapnel. But the engines of the craft roared more loudly as it banked to come around, hovering over them like a helicopter gunship, and moving slowly as if the pilot thought it invincible. The moment it came into view, a volley of fire rang out from a weapon mounted in the nose. The captured vehicle they’d used to get into the facility burst into flames, and dirt showered them as more fire struck the ground. The heavy shells were landing all around.

  One went right through the bed of the truck, narrowly missing Ross' head. He took a deep breath, readying himself to rise up once again. He kicked up with his legs sharply, but as he did so, a shot glanced his helmet. The blow threw him off his feet like he'd been blasted by a jet engine. He crashed into the base of the tower nearest the gate and was stunned. As he opened his eyes, he noticed the MGL was on the ground two metres in front of him, but he couldn't move or speak. For a moment he forgot what he was even doing there. His hearing was shot, too, but his sight was okay. He looked back and forth, trying to get his bearings.

  The ground erupted as more heavy shots strafed past. He knew he needed cover, but somehow he couldn't communicate that concept to his limbs to get moving. He looked out to see his friends hunkered down for cover. Friends he'd known for what felt like a lifetime, and others just a few days. One of them was coming right for him. It was Emma. The others were screaming at her to come back, but their voices were muffled to him. Gunshots landed all around her feet as she covered the open ground.

  "No, wait." He tried to shout, but a faint croaky voice came out.

  But she wasn't coming for him. She rolled, picking up the MGL as she landed on one knee, with the muzzle pointing at the aircraft wailing down fire on them. She aimed for a brief moment and pulled the trigger. The grenade hit the aircraft right on the nose where its gun was fitted, and an explosion ripped part of the hull away. Emma didn't stop there. She fired two more grenades in rapid succession; all finding their mark against the hovering craft that had barely gained any height from its landing ground. Smoke trailed from it as it veered off towards the back of the camp. It rapidly lost altitude, crashed through a fence, and smashed into the ground.

  Those cowering beside the truck could barely believe what they'd seen. Olsen was first on his feet. His mouth was almost on the floor in astonishment as he paced over to Emma, and went on to Ross.

  "You okay?"

  Ross' hearing was still fuzzy, but it was starting to come back.

  "You okay!" Olsen yelled.

  Ross nodded as he took Olsen's hand and was hauled to his feet. He staggered back into the tower that stopped him from falling.

  "That was a hell of a thing."

  Olsen smiled, gesturing towards Emma for what she had done, but blood splattered over Ross as he did so. He looked down stunned as if expecting to see a wound, but he was still in one piece. He looked back to Olsen. A large piece of his neck was missing and blood pouring out from the fresh wound. He collapsed on the spot.

  It was a brutal wake-up call, but a flood of adrenaline woke Ross up as rage and fury soared through his veins. Bursts of gunfire flashed past him as a new wave of enemy soldiers engaged them, but he paid them no heed. He rushed to his friend to try and help. He pulled a field dressing from Olsen's webbing, but before he could even break the seal, he noticed the life fading from his eyes. He finally got the dressing on as Olsen looked at him. He was dying, and he knew it. Ross couldn't imagine what was going through his mind. He looked terrified as he desperately held on to life, but could hardly breathe.

  "It's okay. We're here with you, all the way," Ross did his best to reassure him.

  He tried to think of words better fitting of the situation, but he could find none. This wasn't the first time he'd experienced this, and he was never prepared for it. He told himself he'd manage it better the next time, and then always pretended it would never happen again, and did nothing to prepare for the eventuality.

  "Easy now. We've got you."

  Olsen took one last gasp, unable to get out a single word, before he faded away. He had no words as he looked up and watched the others firing back. All except Emma, who was looking at him. She appeared distraught and angry, not so different to him. He ran back to his rifle and got straight back in the fight. It was all he could think to do, and all he wanted to do. He wanted payback. Killing faceless machines wasn't going to fulfil his need for it, but it would be a start. Lee, Ortiz, and the Tuckers had reached the door to the prison block building. It was the only building inside the perimeter. They opened fire on the locks and ripped the doors open.

  Shots rang out overhead as Dunn kept knocking down the enemy with well-aimed shots from outside the facility.

  "That's it. We're in!" Ramos yelled.

  "Stay here. Make sure we still have a way out once we make it clear," he said to them all. Payne was still reeling in pain, but reloading ready to get back in the fight. Ross rushed towards the door. He fired a few more shots, but there was little coming back at them now, as the ground was littered with the bodies of their enemies. Or scrap metal at least. He slammed a new magazine into his rifle and ran through the open doors. Civilians were already gathering at the entrance. He soon spotted Donny, who'd already picked up a sidearm from one of the others. He was battered and bruised, but eager to join the fight.

  "Lead them out, Donny. Get everyone out of here!" Ross yelled to him. Lee was helping lead the way.

  He pushed his way through to Burns who was breaking open another cell.

  "This looks like the last of them. They've got capacity for a lot more."

  "What's the head count?"

  "Twenty-one, but we're still sweeping the next floors."

  It wasn't anything like as many as he'd been hoping, but it was still a win.

  "All right, let's wrap this up. Is there anyone else?"

  "That way, we haven't been down there yet!"

  Burns ran on with the others, Miles and Ortiz. Cell after cell was empty.

  "What the hell are they doing here?" Miles asked.

  "I don't even want to think about it," replied Ortiz.

  They reached the end of the corridor. It opened out with two elevator doors ahead. They paused as one of them opened. A single figure was inside, the one with gold detailing, the officer in charge. Whatever it was, living or not, it bore the brunt of Ross' anger.

  "This the boss?" Ortiz asked.

  "Damn right, it is. Get on out of here. He's mine," he replied coldly.

  "What?"

  "You heard me, Miles. Go and help the others. I've got this."

  Miles tried to go forward in support, but Ortiz grabbed him, and hauled him away.

  "What are you doing? Are you crazy?"

  But Ross was entirely focused on his opponent. The officer stepped out of the elevator and into the open space. He seemed empty-handed. On the surface it looked little different to the robots they'd been fighting outside, but as he studied it further, he could see there was more to it. Not just the gold detailing that must denote some rank. Every element of its mechanical-looking body appeared to be more detailed and finer built. It was the same height he was, yet slighter.

  "You, you did all this! You killed my friends, my people. You come here, and try and take our country, who the hell do you think you are?" Ross strode forward.

  The officer did not even respond, and yet appeared unarmed.

  "Whatever the fuck you are, you made a massive mistake coming here!"

  "You cannot win. Nobody can."

  The voice sounded mechanical like the other soldiers, yet not sound generated or recorded.

  "You're gonna pay for what you've done, you and the whole damn lot of whatever the hell you are. We're gonna send you right back to the shithole you came from."

  He put down his rifle. He had no idea what he was facing, but he knew it was personal. He stepped out into the room empty-handed.

  "What do you even want here?"

  "Everything," the officer replied calmly.

  "Yeah? Well you'll have to take it from my cold dead hands!"

  He rushed forward and threw a quick straight right, but the officer slipped it with skill. He followed it with a hook, but that didn't find its mark either. He backed off to assess his opponent. His hands were up in a strong stance. His knees well bent to give some spring to his movements. The officer began to mimic him, copying his form perfectly. It was disconcerting, but he didn't know what to do but go on.

  He threw two jabs, but the soldier backed off, and so he rushed forward into a clinch, driving it back against the far wall. He lifted his knee to strike, but before it could land, he was struck with a right from his opponent. The blow hit harder than anything he'd felt in his life. He lost his grip and staggered back, bleeding from the mouth. He was already regretting a hand-to-hand fight, but was stubborn enough to keep going. The officer came at him, throwing the same strikes he'd used. He parried them off, but they were coming in with immense force. He soon found himself backed up against a wall. A blow struck his ribs, and it felt like they cracked. Another was coming for his head, and he was not fast enough to avoid it.

  The punch caused his head to strike the wall hard and bounce back. It hurt like hell, but it heightened his senses, too. He'd underestimated his opponent. Another punch was coming for him, and he knew he couldn't take much more. This time he was quick enough to duck under. As he came back up, he drew his knife, and thrust it into the side of the officer's head just behind the eyes. The blade was buried up to the guard. It staggered back as liquid poured out from the wound. It looked like blood, something he'd not seen from any of the others they'd fought.

  The officer slumped down, collapsing against one of the elevator doors, and yet it wasn't quite dead. Ross staggered over to it, looking at the knife still buried in its skull. He didn't reach for it. He didn't want to underestimate the enemy again. For all he knew it could still possess the strength to reach out and snap his neck.

  "You see, this is my country, mine, nothing you can do will change that. It doesn't matter what you bring to this fight, and I don't care how long it takes, you'll never win."

  Blood continued to pour from the wound, and a pool began to gather on the floor. No response came, until finally the officer began to laugh. It pressed a few keys on what seemed an almost invisible keypad on its left forearm. An electronic buzzing noise rang out and echoed about the room. It sounded like Morse code, and yet the gaps were drawing nearer.