Built to Break

Redline

Below the ridge, carnage unfolded—Redline’s private show. Gravel crunched under his combat boots as he crouched amongst the jutting rocks, eager to get a better view. His lip curled up beneath the leather muzzle fixed to his face. In the post-midnight darkness, the enemy line, built of concrete barriers and razor wire, was still very much intact.

The cracked airstrip was lined with markers that emitted a soft white glow, illuminating dust-caked crates and vehicles scattered around a dark watchtower. From behind the barricades, sporadic flashes of gunfire lit up the expressionless faces of enemy ‘soldiers’, filling the air with the chemical stink of smoke and whip-crack thunder that burrowed ceaselessly into Redline’s sensitive ears.

The objectives were simple: kill the enemy and secure the intel. But where was the fun in that?

Commander Findlay’s clipped voice barked into the comms, barely cutting through the din. “Dozer! Clear. The. Barrier! Now!”

Redline grinned, fangs biting into his lower lip, as his eyes found Dozer on the field below. More than seven feet tall with horns and wings, the brute sat on the edge of the airstrip, peering into the dust on the ground as bullets thudded harmlessly into his back and side. At Findlay’s order, a crackle of blue light shot from the metal collar around his neck, sizzling along the chains draped over his wings. The gargoyle-looking creature jolted, tipping his head back with a roar. In slow, steady movements that set his muscles bulging, Dozer climbed to his feet and turned his sights on the command van parked between sand dunes in the distance—where Findlay cowered, far from the fun.

Do it. Crush him. Redline’s grin widened, heart accelerating.

Another zap made Dozer flinch; his shoulders sagged. He turned to the enemy line and advanced, cracking his knuckles one at a time with pops loud enough to rival the gunfire.

Redline’s stomach sank at the display of obedience.

Dozer stopped beside an empty jeep and hefted it, lifting it over his head. With a careless toss, he launched it towards the barrier. Enemies scattered, unharmed, as the jeep crumpled in a heap on top of the concrete barricades. It promptly burst into flames, spewing burning diesel all over the entry point, making the barrier virtually impenetrable.

Redline chuckled. Whether through incompetence or defiance, Dozer had just made his night. On the comms, Findlay’s stream of curses and the bang of his fist on the console brought immense joy.

The commander wasn’t ready to give up yet, however. “And what the fuck is Vox doing? Vox! Breach!”

Redline’s gaze flitted to Vox, standing beside the airstrip amongst enemy fire. Arms folded, he leaned his hip against a dusty crate as bullets disintegrated upon touching him, raining metallic particles at his feet, or ricocheted off his muzzle with the occasional spark. Where Redline’s muzzle was designed to prevent him tearing out throats and was removed in captivity, the god-creature was stuck in his metal one permanently.

“Vox!”

En route to the airstrip, the god had destroyed his earpiece, rearranging its particles into the shape of a flower. Findlay was barking orders into the void.

Vox’s purple eyes lifted to Redline’s position, as though sensing he was being watched. Redline turned away with a scowl, scanning the scene. A secondary entry point to the watchtower now seemed like Findlay’s only chance, though ‘slim’ was an understatement.

“Glitch!” the commander screeched into the comms. “You’re up! Get in there and collect the intel.”

Redline’s gaze slid to Glitch, the teal glow of his circuitry highlighting him on the field, reflecting off the pure white of his long pony-tail. If not for his light, Glitch’s matte-black metal-alloy skin would have been virtually invisible in the darkness, even to Redline.

The watchtower’s side-entry was sealed with concrete barriers, thicker and higher than the front. In the scant light, a dozen rifle barrels glinted, poised to repel any attack. Glitch peered out of his cover behind stacked crates for just a moment, ducking back to safety when enemy shots rang out.

In the breaths that followed, the night quietened, and Redline cocked his head, waiting.

Glitch leaned out from cover again, firing off twelve shots in close succession. For each one, a grunt or the clatter of a dropped weapon signalled that it found its mark. When the echoes of the last shot died in the endless waves of sand surrounding the watchtower, Glitch emerged, casually strolling towards the blockade.

Redline’s bemused smile faltered. Is he actually obeying an order? How dull.

As Glitch meandered to the tower, hands in his pockets, his figure flickered. Between one step and the next, his whole body changed, shifting and morphing into a perfect copy of Commander Findlay—except for the face, which was twisted into a dopey expression, as though he’d slammed his nose into a window mid-orgasm.

Findlay’s flustered noises almost made Redline feel sorry for the prick. “Glitch, what the fuck—”

In the same instant, the comms crackled out, music blaring through the speakers. Redline hissed, pulling his earpiece out.

Glitch’s version of Findlay vaulted a concrete barrier and strode inside the watchtower. Redline lost sight of him and called on his infrared vision, blinking the thin lens over each eye.The scene lit up in cold blues and hot reds. Glitch’s power core shone white through his external circuit lines, keeping him visible no matter where he went. The trickster homed in on a lounge inside the tower, helping himself to a soda from a bar fridge. He settled into a chair and propped his feet up on a table, sipping his prize.

Redline shook his head, almost impressed.

In his hand, his comm whined, the music cutting out. “—and where the hell is Redline? Does anyone have eyes on the leech?”

Redline sneered and released the earpiece, crushing it into the gravel with his heel.

An orange ball of flame shot past his face, and he turned his gaze on the source, dropping his infrared, lest he be blinded. Phoenix glared from just below the ridge, dark brows drawn down in fury. The ice-blue swirls that marked his skin seemed to do nothing to cool his temper. Or his firepower, though they were supposed to. “Are you going to help or just fucking watch?”

Pfft. Lapdog. Redline considered shooting a verbal barb, but the muzzle would limit its effect. So he just shrugged. Phoenix’s mouth twisted in rage, flames springing up on his shoulders and racing along his arms. He brought his hands together, building another ball of flame.

Redline vanished into crimson mist, reappearing beside Phoenix on the airstrip runway. The fireball sailed by where Redline had just been standing. Phoenix grunted, raising his arms to fire again, but Redline misted, laughing. The kid was a hot-head. Easy to stir up. And Findlay’s ‘second in command’. What a joke.

A glance behind gave Redline a delicious idea. He misted to a new position, closer to the front blockade. “Give it up, nuke. You couldn’t hit puberty without Findlay’s say-so.”

Phoenix’s fists clenched, his body rigid. He leaned forward with a roar, and whipped his arms together, launching a fireball as tall as Redline. With a smirk beneath the muzzle, he misted once more, landing back on his ridge just as the fire exploded against Dozer’s back, wreathing his chained wings in fire.

The gargoyle turned slowly, a manic grin etched into his stone-like face.

“Whoops,” Redline whispered to himself as Phoenix raised his hands in apology. Dozer ignored his pleas and moved towards him with purpose, dwarfing the nuke. The gargoyle threw some lazy-looking punches, though Redline knew from experience how much force was behind them. Phoenix was muttering something, maybe trying to explain his error to the hulking stone mass, but it was pointless. Dozer lived to fight, and Phoenix just sent a VIP invitation.

Phoenix dropped his arms and stopped retreating. His torso rippled with orange flames, and a wall of fire flooded from him, washing over Dozer. He stepped right through it, smouldering lightly, grin still in place.

Hesitant footsteps sounded from behind Redline, and he tore his eyes from the entertainment, irritated. Four privates were approaching, climbing up the ridge and failing at stealth.

“Redline, report,” one of them ordered, a tremor in her voice.

Redline hiked a thumb at the disaster unfolding below. “Things are going well, don’t you think?”

The private who’d spoken hesitated. “You’re to come back with us to command and regroup.”

Redline inspected his nails. “No, thank you. I’m quite enjoying my view.”

“Commander Findlay—”

“Has no control here. Clearly.” Redline swept his arm out, indicating Dozer and Phoenix tearing up and charring the landscape.

One private from the back of the group stepped forward, much too boldly. "Come back with us now, or we’ll drag you back.”

The first private winced. Redline grinned, running his tongue over his fangs. “Really? I’d dearly like to see that.” Behind his back, his hand curled around empty air, shadows solidifying into a sharp blade.The too-bold private took a wise step back. “You see, I may be muzzled, currently, but killing is something I’ve excelled at for millennia. How do you think the four of you will fare against me?”

The first private raised her weapon. Her finger tightened slightly on the trigger. Redline snarled, bursting into motion. He misted, reforming amongst them. With precise strikes, he sliced through their necks. The blade punched through arteries and veins, grinding against vertebrae. Blood spattered his hands and sprayed onto his forehead, dripping into his eye. So tantalising in its scent, so deliciously close. His stomach growled at the promise of a good feed. One he’d been denied for decades. As the four soldiers bled out on the ground around him, he tugged at his muzzle. The lock at the back of his neck rattled, as though mocking him, but didn’t budge. At full strength, he could have torn through the silly little lock like tissue paper.

With a growl, he released it. Loose strands of black hair tickled his brow, and he smoothed them back into place, smearing blood. Ignoring the roiling, screaming hollowness in his gut, he turned back to the main spectacle. The entire area beneath his ridge was pock-marked with smoking craters and tossed boulders.

The command van rumbled into view on the tarmac, its lights blaring through the haze of dust kicked up by the ongoing scuffle. Over the roar of flames and the rumbling thuds of boulders being weaponised, Redline could only just make out Findlay’s voice, shouting through a loudspeaker mounted on the van. The enemy had long since gone quiet, shots ceasing and soldiers freezing in place, awaiting digital orders that could make sense of the chaos.

Dozer chucked a rock the size of his head, clipping Phoenix’s shoulder. Phoenix screamed, his whole body igniting in white-hot fire. It exploded, shooting out in all directions at incredible velocity.

Redline raised his shadowblade, its black glass shielding his eyes from the blinding blaze. Blood dripped down its edge, tinting the world with ruby tones. The valley was washed away in a flood of flames that submerged everything. The force of the explosion whipped the stale desert air into a frenzy, sending stinging grains of sand into his face. The acrid stink of burning plastic and charred metal had his lip curling in distaste.

When the light finally died, Phoenix collapsed naked onto the scorched ground, his clothes completely burned away. Dozer, still smoking, brushed a piece of debris from his shoulder. Vox peered over at them with mild interest, and even Glitch peeked out from inside the watchtower, still sipping his drink.

On the field, the charred frame of the command van was reduced to a twisted cage of metal housing a raging inferno. Another commander bites the dust. Redline smirked to himself, feeling victorious, despite having done absolutely nothing.

Right on cue, the flood lights kicked on and illuminated the field. Operatives in black swarmed in as the projections of enemy soldiers, dead and alive, blinked out of existence in a wash of pixels. The ones at his feet, however, still bled there. Redline would get another ‘friendly fire’ strike for that. Oh, dear. What creative punishment would they dish out this time? Lashes? A lobotomy? He scoffed.

Dozer roared as he was zapped again and again, until he collapsed to his knees. Operatives pounced, clipping a thick chain to his collar, half-leading, half-dragging him back to the transport.

Phoenix’s prone form was doused with icy water and carried away by operatives in shiny heat-resistant suits.

Glitch was tased until he fell, teal glow winking out as he lost consciousness, his Findlay-face dissolving.

Redline chuckled at the operatives nervously approaching Vox, trying to shepherd him back to the transport without touching him, lest they be vaporised. He didn’t understand why the god-creature didn’t just leave, but he supposed it had to do with his muzzle.

Before long, it was his turn. A helicopter hovered above him, and the clank of the weapon being aimed had him tensing. The chain-link net launched with a bang, exploding open in mid-air to envelop him. He could dodge it, but he knew it would be pointless. They would catch him eventually. They always did. If he was to face a punishment, he needed to conserve his energy for healing.

The force of the net threw him off his feet, rolling him in the dust. The cold metal links wrapped around his body, binding him from head to toe, electrified with the crimson glow that stung his skin and prevented him from slipping into mist.

As he waited for the humans to collect him, he thought about what might come next. Squad 426 had failed another test. Killed another commander. How many was that now? Three? Four? Faceless operatives dressed in black eyed him warily as they gripped his chains and dragged him to the transport with the others. Redline couldn’t help but wonder: What poor bastard will they send to die next?