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Steampunk. Entry #01 of potentially many.
Sweat trickled down David's forehead as he stared at the scene before him. Flames licked hungrily at dry timbers and crumbling slate roofs. Bloody, charred corpses littered the streets; armed and unarmed, men and women... and children. Amongst the wreckage strolled twelve-foot-tall iron suits of armor with heavy guns held ready, steam hissing from heavy boilers bolted to their backs. Those mechanical soldiers, unaffected by the townspeople's defenses, had brought about this destruction. One of them was him. They had been sent here by the Lord General himself with one objective: destroy it.
"It is a base of spies, of dangerous enemies to our nation. We must not allow them to continue undermining our country! They must be destroyed, at all costs. All persons are suspect, release no one and take no prisoners." The Commander had emphasized the last command.
But this was no criminal base, no hotbed of enemy plotting. Deep down, David realized it just an innocent small town. They were not enemies, and they were not dangerous rebels. They were normal people - the very people he had sworn to protect. Raising his foot, he lifted the propulsion control lever and slowed the suit's relentless march. The body of a young woman lay across his path, her fear and desperation evident even in death, even through the metal grating across the front of the suit's helm. Had he been the one to shoot her? With the chaos of the charge, there was no way to know.
The radio crackled into life. "Remember, no prisoners. Shoot anything that moves." David looked around once again, seeing fellow soldiers stop to scan for any signs of life. A sudden shot rang out, followed by the dying shriek of a cat. A sick, twisting feeling started in the pit of David's gut at the sound. He started to push his foot back down on the lever, but hesitated. He looked back down at the woman. It wasn't right, leaving her lying there like that. A sheet of canvas caught his eye, and he reached his hand towards the left. The bracing around his arm moved smoothly, directing the iron arm outside to echo his movements. Carefully lifting the canvas, he draped it over the young woman's corpse. Probably the only burial she'll ever get.
Bitterly, he pressed his foot down on the lever, and the suit responded with a sudden surge forward. He strode down the street, trying to ignoring the littered corpses and burning buildings. A quiet sob from a nearby alleyway, barely audible over his own loud tread, caught his attention. Sliding his foot to the right, he turned the machine towards the sound to investigate. The suit barely fit between the brick walls, but fit it did, and he only had to go a short distance down the alley. A small child, probably six years old, stood clutching a torn and stained stuffed bear.
The boy and the machine stared at each other silently, motionlessly. A second shot rang out across the town. This time, there was no scream. A drop of sweat trickled into David's eye, stinging sharply.
The people I've sworn to protect.
Take no prisoners.
The memory of the dead woman rose again in his minds eye. If this is how it's going to be, I'll have no part in it. He pressed down ever so slightly with his foot, and the suit took one small step forwards. The boy clutched his bear even more tightly and stood still.
David slid his left arm out of the control brace, reaching for a lever next to his seat and pulling it once, twice. The suit helm unlatched and then lifted halfway, and man and child looked each other straight in the eye.
"I'm going to help you."
The boy stared, wide-eyed, before nodding silently. David smiled back, then closed the helm again before sliding his arm back into the brace. Reaching forward, he held out one giant armored gauntlet to the small boy, who crept over and sat gingerly on the palm. David carefully lifted the child, holding him close against the chest plate. Pressing a second lever now, he backed out of the narrow alleyway. He noted with relief that none of the other soldiers were within sight. He started towards the edge of town, hoping he would stay unnoticed.
A soldier appeared from an intersecting street, and David cursed as both suits stopped dead. The other aimed his gun at the small boy, then hesitated. That was all David needed. Slamming his foot down as hard as he could, the suit lunged forward at a full run. He heard a gun fire behind him, felt the bullet ricochet off the cast iron boiler, and kept running. There were trees outside of town. If he could reach the trees, the boy could escape to safety on his own.
Another gunshot, another ricochet. He only needed to keep the machine together for a few dozen more meters, and then it didn't matter what happened to him. A brief doubt flickered in his mind. He was disobeying direct orders. Was one child's life really worth his own?
Sworn to protect.
He could feel the legs starting to give way as he rounded the last corner. The trees were straight ahead now, though. Another gunshot - two, three. He lost count as bullets rained against him.
Finally he reached the trees. The suit ran another few meters before the left knee gave out, forcing him to stop. Placing the boy on the ground, David raised the helm one last time.
"Run away, quickly!"
The boy turned and fled, vanishing into the woods. The stampede of iron feet was racing towards. He'd disobeyed orders from the Lord General himself. There would be no trial - and he wasn't going to wait for the firing squad. Slowly, David drew his pistol and cocked it.
He closed his eyes, pictured a small boy with a stuffed bear, and smiled.
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