“ATTENTION SOCIALISTS!” A hearty voice echoes and booms from the digital speaker box of the machine.

  “I’LL BE GIVING AWAY FREE ASS KICKINGS TONIGHT AT CRESTON BROADCASTING!”

  The machine takes another step in, each thud echoing like the voice does. “YOU HAPPEN TO BE RIGHT IN THE ASS-KICKING CHAMBER, BELOW MY GLORIOUS, GLORIOUS RELAY!”

  The machine takes another step, its blue lights beaming just overhead of John. They look away, confirming that this pilot doesn't yet know where they are.

  “I CAN SMELL YA, YA FUCKIN COMMIES. COME ON OUT BEFORE YOU STARVE!”

  It takes another step and looks around. “What the fuck is the plan?!” Yukon whispers to John. Their leader looks to them, clearly seeing they're distraught. John, however, has a smile on his face.

  “You people stay here. I'll go out and talk to him.”

  “What! Are you crazy!” Yukon whisper-yells as John finger-twirls his pistols before holstering them. He stands up, attracting the light and sight of the machine. He walks out into the open, each step slow and deliberate.

  “WELL, LOOKIE HERE. A RED TERROR IN THE FLESH.” The pilot yells through his speakers. The pilot's voice even comes through the intercom.

  John takes another step out, finally turning to the machine. He raises his arm in the air. “Come on then. What are you gonna do? Hit me?”

  “THAT'S RIGHT! SQUISH YA! CRUSH YA! SMACK YA!” The pilot yells, ebbing closer and leaning in with the massive MeKSUT.

  “I KNEW YOU THIEVING COMMUNIST BUGS WOULD REAR YOUR HEADS EVENTUALLY!”

  “What in the fuck is a communist?” John asked genuinely, unafraid. Excited even. The machine leans down a little closer.

  “HUH? I DIDN'T HEAR YOU.”

  “I said what the fuck is a communist!” John yells again. The machine leans back and takes a step forward, the lights shining down like tractor beams.

  Crosby looked down on the stand off in disbelief. He remained hidden with his shot pointed at the thing. It wouldn't make a difference given the circumstances, but he did anyway.

  The pilot things of a reply. “UHH… THEY’RE… EVIL! BUT I'VE BEEN TOLD THEY ARE EVIL, AND YOU LOOK LIKE THE ONES FROM THE NEWS!”

  “Are you the boss of this facility?” John yells up.

  “OF COURSE I AM! WHAT ELSE WOULD I BE?!”

  The machine stands tall and begins raising its forklift arm.

  “ENOUGH OF THIS SHIT. PREPARE TO DIE, IVAN!”

  Crosby has seen enough. He pulls the trigger and pumps the shotgun, each slug a kick into his shoulder as he unloads rounds into the machine.

  The slugs sounded like pebbles thrown against iron. The delay of the machine looking up was enough for John to pull the pin on a grenade. He lobs a few at it, three in total as he dives away. Just as the machine looks down, the all go off, ripping up one of the legs of the beasts.

  The shrapnel shattered some of the glass on the ceiling, allowing the wind to blow in like a ghastly presence. John rips out his pistols and undies the safety.

  “Over here, bitch!” He yells into the pilot's ego.

  The machine thunders it's warhorns again as lightning rips across the sky. The machine stabilizes and begins marching towards John. But it's slowed down, and so John jumps up to begin his tango.

  Both pistols in his hands. His fingers assault the triggers as he unleashes round after round into, or near, the cockpit of the thing.

  It gets closer as he runs back; taking a crushing swing. It smashes the fork against the metal ground, leaving a huge dent and John unscathed.

  Lex and Yukon soon grow the balls to join John and Crosby in laying lead into the machine. They aim for the armored turbine on its back, dumping three-o-eight and five-five-six into its blades.

  The engine coughs and sputters, but stays running through the first volley. “THERE'S MULTIPLE! HA, SHARING IS CARING, ISN’T IT COMRADE?”

  The pilot proclaims through the speaker. It takes another swipe at John, barely grazing his right leg but causing him to flip into the air.

  John lands hard on his back, looking up to see the doom claw rises above. He prepared to roll, but the sound of machinery failing rocks the room as the MeKSUT stumbles forward.

  “AHHGH, LITTLE TERRORS!” The pilot laments as he turns his focus to behind. He marches towards Yukon and Lex, slower now but still steady.

  John watches as those two begin shooting and running just like he had. His vision falls upon the semi-crippled leg of the MeKSUT. An idea comes to his mind. He throws himself up and rushes towards it.

  Crosby is midway through the lengthy process of loading fourteen more shells as the commotion grows below.

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  Gary rushes back into the sound of gunfire, the civilians of that sector now safe. “JOHN!” He yells as John rushes behind.

  “WARN THE CIVILIANS!” John yells back as he continues forth, forcing Gary to comply. The bombastic voice of the pilot yells again as a fork gets embedded in the ground.

  “CAN’T THIS STUPID PIECE OF SHIT HIT ANYTHING?”

  The machine now immobile, John seizes the opportunity. Crosby pumps the shotgun with a fresh load of slug rounds, only to look down and see John scaling up it's hip.

  “JOHN! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!” He yells as his boss climbs further. John didn't hear him, reaching the pelvis, mere feet away from the cockpit.

  The MeKSUT finally rips its claws out the metal, the horn booming, John nearing falling off from the force. But he holds on. He climbs inside the cockpit window and gives it a knock.

  He looks inside, only to be greeted with a mixed look of shock and awe on the pilot's face. He wore a decadent uniform. Well groomed and rich.

  “Don't hit yourself!” John warms. As the pilot's face contorts into anger, the sound of the servo powering up signals it's time to jump.

  John lets go and lands feet first onto the ground, hurting like a bitch. Yet not hurting as much as the pilot, who smashes his own cockpit to pieces with the claw. The machine falls over, collapsing on its ass. The turbine sputters for a moment before finally shutting down.

  Crosby goes back to planting bombs at lighting speed while Lex and Yukon go to help John up.

  “Are you okay boss?” Yukon asked.

  “I'm fine!” John replies, standing on his own strength and limping towards the fallen MeKSUT.

  The turbines continue to spin down as John power climbs on the wreck. He looks inside the cockpit to see the pilot cough blood, impaired by his own claw.

  “You… you son of a bitch!” The pilot coughs as he chokes on some blood and spits it out.

  “You'll— you'llgh never win the culture wars! Ya fuckin commie!”

  “What are you talking about?” John asks sincerely, panting and wheezing, though still very alive.

  The pilot coughs another wad of blood as his voice grows softer.

  “You… you don't know?” He coughs again, his sight drifting to the sky. His voice, now soft and thin. His life, leaving him.

  “You don't know…” The pilot says before he dies.

  “You… don't. Know…”

  The turbine finally spun down. John kept his lips tight and his face grim as he watched another man needlessly die. This time, a man purely of the system. Yet it didn't make him feel any better.

  He shakes his head. He looks away. He closes the pilot's eyes, one. Final. Time. “Is he dead?!” Crosby yelled from the distance as he reached the bottom.

  “He's dead.” John tells them with reverence. His mannerisms turn from fight to mourning as he climbs down carefully. They all group up beside the fallen beast. “Well we need to get out of here. The bombs are set. We're just waiting on Gary.” The lieutenant Crosby informs.

  They wait around for a minute, silently. The hail ghastly and the wind spookley. Gary got back quicker than expected. “There weren't as many people there. They're all okay. Also, good job on the trash pile your four.”

  “Nothing good about it.” John laments, challenging the vibe of victory. There is no time for them to dwell on it as John gets moving, letting the rest follow.

  They go back through the hallway from before. The sirens have stopped. The light remains sterile. All that is present is the hollow gusts and buzz of lighting before they make it back to the exit.

  They all make a final dash to the vehicle, throwing themselves inside while John turns it on.

  The headlights wake up. The engine purrs. As Gary closes his door, he asks a question. “Should I light it up?”

  “The honor is all yours.” John confirms with an uncanny peace. Gary presses the button. A second later, fire roars below the satellite. The shock came soon after, shaking the ground and vehicle as if an asteroid just landed.

  They witness as the titan dish slowly crumbles and falls upon its superstructure. The metal crunches and buckles while wires shootout and spark.

  And final death whine echoes as it crumbles into itself, leaving way for the deep bass of impacts to take its place. Then, the final sparks of its signals went out. Then, the whole facility lost power. Then, relative silence.

  No words needed to be said after sight of such a spectacle.

  As the relay died, John felt alive.

  And as the hail takes over, he finally turns the steering wheel.

  It is only after they reach back to the ruined roads which led them here that someone finally speaks. And it was John, their definitive leader.

  “Mission complete boys. Enjoy the ride ahead. We're a long way from home, so speak your minds if you have to.”

  Hours pass. Gary and the rest fell asleep. Not John though. As he finally reaches a superhighway, he lets the cruise control take over.

  Crosby snores really loud. It was wonderful how anyone in the back managed to sleep. But John can't help but reflect. And in his reflection, some inspiration comes to him.

  He pulls out his digiphone as the SUV drives ahead. He goes to his contact. He sees Amy. He decides to give her a call. It took three dials before she finally picked up.

  “Is that you John?” She asked.

  “Yes! It's about time you finally replied to my calls.” John quips with light hearted snark. Amy doesn't quite reciprocate it, as her reply comes off more as a genuine apology.

  “Yeah… sorry about that. You've got me at a good time since I'm not busy. What's up?”

  John cracks his first smile since the pilot died, even if it is small.

  “I thought I'd let you know I'm okay.”

  “Awww. Thank you for that.” Amy reply like a marshmallow. John smiles a little bit more, though forgets to speak. And so Amy does.

  “Was there anything else?”

  “Nope. Just that. I'll be back safely. And soon.” John shares.

  Amy is who ends the call. Though she ends it on a high note.

  “That's good to hear John. I look forward to catching up once you get back. Be safe please.”

  “I will.” John assures.

  Amy hangs up the call. John closes his digiphone. He puts it back in his pocket so he can look up. He takes the thing out of autopilot, and drive the rest of the way.

  Chapter LXXI: The Consequences of Your Actions. - FUTURE GENESIS: 2084 | Royal Road)