The slain creature Vlad was videoing was similar to their unwilling prisoner but it could not be said to be a perfect replica to Vlad's camera. This one was a little larger, spinier, yet also more slender in build. It was less beetle-like, almost more like an earwig - a thickened, bulky one but it was clear it had a mobility it was capable of. At least, that's the information that could be gleaned from a glance before it was rendered as a meat-based recreation of a chaotic mountain landscape.
The weapon it would have used appeared to be some sort of stubby rifle made of jagged, semi-geometric shapes of pinkish-white metal and carapace. Bullet marks within and the twitch of living plating demonstrated where the synthetic and metallic dividied.
It was very well dead but the elements that comprised it were busy struggling for life; little parasitoid creatures grubby and springtail like, spilling onto the purplish splatter around its body and its torn-off arm.
Meanwhile, Marczin did not seem pleased with the answer he got from either of his two compatriots.
"Maybe the joker can cope a little more quietly. I did not sign up to die on a routine mission and neither did my compatriots, especially with this damn commentary constnatly in my ears. There are barely bodies left for us to recover." He turned to Korofi, his visor hiding whatever snarl or grimace he was currently making.
"Your Jurgen leads well but he is nearing his wit's end. I may be no optimist but even I know we are running out of options unless fortune truly favors the desperate."
He snatched them from the security guard's hands, staching them into a small storage pocket in his armor.
"Besides, with you jumping out in the open and spraying bullets, I feel as if we were told to take care of a trainee. You are right, maybe we are best kept sane. But my discipline extends from knowing I can TRUST the people around me - not to be good men, but competent ones. The next time you make yourself a target or the mag runs dry, hope that there is someone left to pull you out of the mess."
His last few words came as a growl, just in time for Jorge to return with the drone. He eyed it oddly. It was barely damaged from whatever had happened with barely any scratches along its suface. Doug's repairs and modifications had done more to it than whatever had happened during the time they were all still underground.
"Remember that radio signal we got earlier? I know it's hard to focus on that when a whole swathe of us got pulped, but maybe you can wire this to... do something about that? I'm outta options, but this building's big. That thing sounded intermittent. Two plus two."
He plopped the drone on one of the less messy, dust-covered tables and poked it a few times.
"What's an EMP bomb going to do? We know these things have electronics in their guts but... what about any friendlies that might be here? That message we got when we entered was on repeat. Someone set it like that but maybe it means they're hiding further inside. These are gov buildings, someone's probably like us - cowering in whatever safe corner can take more bullets. Doesn't military hardware like this have some kinda scanning function?"
Marczin immediately stood up, almost saluting at the sight of another SSM trooper entering.
"Oi Vlad, what's going on over there? I heard gunfire and Jurgen's growling something out. Did we get coms?" He asked, peeking out from a hole across two sides of a wall corner.
"And did you get the two bastards?"
"I'll make this real simple for you. Where. Are. The. Rest. Of. The. HUMANS."
Jurgen growled as the huge creature's head turned his way, gargling something incomprehensible. His patience was nearing its end. A few of the infantry had climbed up the sloped, fallen floor to watch the upper level of the room leaving just two with him for his questioning.
A questioning that had gone nowhere but maybe a few handgun bullets could fix that.
His handgun pointed to the creature's leg and a pair of cracks were heard. Already weakened from the previous battle, its armor broke and he heard meat receive metal.
A sound like boiling oil and crackling frying pans sounded out and he pointed the gun to its head. The boil turned to a simmer and its cold, dome-like eyes looked with whatever malice or curiosity it could muster.
"Do not even think about bitching. You burned them alive. You are lucky I am not doing the same to you."
Eight rounds left. It was probably already dying. Maybe it was just attempting to spite them.
A sound like buzzing radio static and garbled, masked back-speak churned out of its mandibles along with an array of disgusting, squirming gunk splattering by his feet. His hand trembled; he wanted to dust it like its friend but this might be their only shot.
"Hey, Jurgen, screen just fizzed for a bit on my visor. Think the cunt's trying to tell us something. They're biomechs of some sort right?" A closed channel communication from the trooper to his right, now fiddling with some settings.
That gave him an idea.
He turned on his coms to the rest of the squad.
"Doug. Bring the drone. I think we may have a way around the language barrier."