Experimental Combat: Flash Fiction Stories

Author:
Jake Clawson
Updated:
Dec 20, 2017 5:54 PM EST

Insectoid SPEC-OPS

We are the future of urban warfare; faster, stronger and agiler than the average trooper while having a bullet-proof exoskeleton and the ability to traverse any surface; including water. My wings flapped aggressively in pursuit of a known terrorist as I took aim at his legs; TOC (Tactical Operations Command) wants him alive. Cutting him down from my M4, other operators then subdued him as I maintained overwatch in the air for a minute in case his friends show up.

Initially, we were born from an HVT (high-value target) capture operation in the jungles of South East Asia; to be faster and more lethal and cohesive unit whose reflexes outmatched even the best human ones. A soldier that could see more. We took down cell after cell of insurgents. Now we are the dominators of urban warfare where I am a CQC (Close Quarters Combat) specialist with a high kill count and every operation ending in success. Stopping my wings and landing, I unsheathed my pincers; dropping blood on the floor from my previous melee kill; relaying my squad to report in.

The subdued fugitive dreaded to look at us; his eyes full of tears as he closed them; wishing it was a nightmare that he can wake up from; 16 eyes were on him; as if daring him to attempt escape. My squadmates picked him up and with aggressive clicking; shoved him along to the extraction point.

Suddenly, my antennae picked up a threat, almost unconsciously, the suspect was in the corner choking to death as his throat turned into a blood geyser. No one knew our next step; not even command; we always have the edge.

The Gear Grinder

After a disagreement with an IED (Improvised Explosive Device), the last thing I remembered was my buddies returning fire and trying to carry me to cover. It seemed like years and I woke up to an electric jolt; I couldn't see anything yet I felt everything and moved around as I sensed whispers and obeyed their every word.

I heard foreign accents screaming in fear and pain around me as I was literally flying on the rocky desert road; leaving a trail of fire behind me. "Shut it down." was the last thing I heard before increasing speed almost to Mach 5; catching air from a destroyed truck and making it rain debris, blood, and gizzards.

"Yes, this is the future of combat, sentient, state-of-the-art AI in a motorcycle body able to reach the top speed of Mach 5. Armed with 2 30 mm GAU-8/A seven-barrel Gatling guns and loaded with an explosive payload capable of leveling a 2 storey building; the AI is given directives before the mission; ideal for precision strikes to places where aerial bombardment won't reach."

Low-Tech Terror

Tractor engine parts, electric motors, buzzsaw blade, industrial machinery parts; that's all me; held together by wires, varied bolts, and welding. I was human once but being thrown into a woodchipper by the mob after a failed undercover operation; only to be put back together by car mechanics; I have returned and completed my case. A good cop always finishes his job; even if it involves getting an APB issued for your arrest.

Cutting up the mob hitmen and going after the don himself, I made headlines that are scaring the sleep away from civilians; a walking wreck that kills people. I roam the dead streets where no one except other officers and thugs was brave enough to walk, taking all kinds of punishment and luring the kingpin out; throwing his lieutenants against the wet concrete to relay the message.

The law and the crime are against me; my buzzsaw blade is spinning up as I gaze at the dark alleys where a thousand steps are heard. I look to the other side and see red and blue lights accompanied by a chorus of many wails. I am a good cop; so good I turned everyone against me to get to the top of the crime in town.