A pile of lifeless bodies littered the floor underneath the ladder, the remains of faceless grunts who had been sent to defend something they knew nothing about. A squad of three had unwittingly descended the ladder, directly into the line of fire of a heavy machine gun sprouting from a mechanical body.
As he listened to the screams of the dying, for the first time since he'd been abducted, Red felt like he was in control. This - ending worthless human lives - was what he'd designed his machine for, and it was doing so perfectly. It didn't strike him that he was getting a little excited over such a small number of kills; rather, the gratification they granted him made it seem as though each person he killed was worth a hundred. He was no longer worried about the troops he heard marching above him. In fact, he welcomed the challenge. The notion that he might be in any real danger had entirely vanished from his head.
A few tense minutes passed before the sound of marching feet faded. Red peered around uneasily. It had started coming from the sides as well just before it stopped; were there hidden doors of some sort? Suddenly, a loud CRASH came from the walls, several dents appearing on various sides of the room. It only took him a few moments to realize what was happening; it took the same amount of time for the teams in the adjacent corridors to impact the walls a second time, tearing three new doors into the room.
Red's torso swiveled on the spidery base as pods of mustard gas launched from his shoulders, bursting open on impact, several to each door. A few of the entering soldiers fell down, choking, but were quickly dragged out by the people behind them, who had quickly put gas masks on the moment their comrades collapsed. Red took the opportunity to fire a carefully-aimed grenade into one of the openings, and was rewarded with screaming, which turned into choking and coughing as the gas masks fell off of those who were hit. As he swiveled towards another of the holes to repeat the procedure, he was rewarded with the sight of buff security guards pouring out of him, firing various weapons at him. The bullets pinged off of his armor. Heedless, he shouted back at them as he stretched out his hands. "Bad move!"
Brooklyn, meanwhile, was so involved with the console that what was going on barely registered with her until a few bullets pinged off her metal form. The shock shattered her concentration, and she flew at the source of the bullets more out of reflex than anything else. The soldier who had fired them tried to dive to the side, resulting in only his arm being sawed apart, instead of his torso. He crumpled to the floor, staring in a daze at his disconnected arm. Brooklyn was about to chase after the rest of his squad, who had decided to haul ass when they saw a flying chainsaw coming at them, when the soldier connected the dots and screamed.
Brooklyn looked back at him, intending to finish him off. His screaming petered out, the blood pouring out of his wound bringing him ever closer to the verge of death. His shockingly pale face looked up at her in what she first took to be fear, but after a moment's scrutiny, realized also had something else mixed into it - hope. He was hoping she'd finish the job and spare him the agony of her mistake. She revved herself up, but could do nothing but stare at him as he slowly bled to death.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, oh god, I'm so sorry," she repeated, unable to bring herself to finish him off. She had said it several more times before she realized he was dead.
Red noticed none of this tomfoolery and continued to tear through the soldiers flooding in through the door openings with reckless abandon, jeering them on as he slaughtered foe after foe, until finally they began to call a retreat. Unable to fit through the holes to follow them, he settled for firing grenades through and sending them bouncing down the corridors as far as he could. "COME BACK, COOOOWAAAAAAARDS!" he jeered. "WHY ARE YOU RUUUUUUNNIIIIIIIING, COOOOOWAAAAAAARDS?"
Tria's eyes were as wide as saucers, and her free hand moved to cover her mouth. Who was down there? They were...those screams, they couldn't be...what were they doing? Was that gunfire? She looked at the fish next to her, which was gasping as it asphyxiated in the open air. Did they just hit a planet? Fear and anger began to flare up inside her. Why were they endangering an entire planet? What gave them that right?
The sharp sound of metal bending startled her out of her reverie. She looked around and saw the twisted form of a gutterpipe, which had, for some reason, curled itself in a crude circle around a seemingly-random point in the air. She glanced down at her arm again, but even before she did so she knew that it had done it - she had felt a small twinge within it just as she heard the gutterpipe bend, although it had taken her a few moments to put the two facts together. She grimaced. Getting used to not having the AI controlling her arm would take some getting used to, especially if just getting a little angry could make it react.
Meanwhile, the broadcast was still going, albeit with a lot less talking and a lot more shooting. Explosions could be heard at first, but they quickly stopped. The worst part, Tria decided, was the way one of the tinny voices kept laughing and jeering at the screams of the dying. It made her sick at heart. She started clambering down from the rooftop of the apartment building she was on. She had a vague notion of working her way over to wherever the commotion was happening, but what she really wanted to be sure of at the moment was that she didn't go the same way as the dead fish next to her, flung off in an interplanetary collision and thrust into an environment in which she couldn't survive.
As it turned out, finding the entrance to the bunker Red and Brooklyn were in was easier than she had expected. Although to be fair, a chainsaw flying out of an alley door and up into the sky was a bit of a dead giveaway.
Red clanked over to Brooklyn, who was still floating dejectedly over the dead body of the soldier. "Why are you not back at console? Work to do. Need to fix whatever you messed up."
Brooklyn spun around to face him in a way that he couldn't interpret as anything but angry. "The hell is wrong with you?"
Red didn't respond.
"What kind of threat were they supposed to be? They couldn't even hurt us. It's not like either of us are particularly...not immune to bullets!"
This time Red chose to respond. "You sawed man's arm off. Watched him die. Not like me. Deaths were quick, painless. Justified. How can you lecture me?"
Brooklyn's voice didn't splutter, but her engine did anyway. "I panicked! That's totally justifiable! Anyone could've done it!"
"You are too reserved! Scared of killing!"
Brooklyn flared up and flew over to the ladder, turning back to Red before heading up. "Fuck you, you mangy cockroach. I don't need to sit here and listen to you insult me. Have fun in that stupid carapace of yours." With that, she floated up through the hatch, rocketing through the facility's corridors until she reached the exit, her mental map serving as a good enough guide. She shot out from the hidden entrance - not noticing or just not caring that Tria saw her - and flew off, toning her jet engine down as she left the planet's gravity and looked around to decide where to go.
She quickly found the planets involved in the collision. It wasn't hard; there had only been one solid planet involved, and when it had been hit by the giant floating sphere of water around a gravity generator that constituted the other planet, a good portion of the water had started floating off elsewhere as the gravity generator lost its hold on it, creating a scene that looked remarkably like a time lapse version of someone taking a water balloon to the face. Brooklyn flew towards the disaster; she might as well see how much damage she'd caused.