The Resistors were huddled in a large, rubble pit, in the middle of the city’s square. It was where the Robot Children had herded and bombed a crowd of citizens in a mass killing a month before. Now, the remaining survivors waited, watching; they were praying for some action, or something to happen.

“Arse fart!” Jacob Jones cried suddenly. He had jammed his fingers while loading his weapon.

“That’s so annoying,” Klara Watson groaned; “I wish you would stop saying that.”

“Fag,” Zach Sakari accused, “why do have to be so freaking loud.” He looked at Jacob, who glared back. “What?” Zach asked. “It just means ‘cigarette butt’ in Klara language.”

“Screw you,” Klara remarked, “fag.” She loaded the M24, bracing for what would inevitably happen next.

“Love you too,” Zach replied.

Klara frowned, and stuck her tongue out at Zach; he shrugged. The ground was shaking. The Robot Children were coming.

“Get ready to rock everyone,” Klara said; her British accent was thick with anticipation.

“Hey,” Zach said, reassuringly touching Klara’s arm, “you’ve got this.” Her hands were quivering. Not good, Zach reflected, if our sniper’s freaking out. “Just stay calm. This isn’t a hopeless rescue mission like last time.” Zach watched Klara as she grimaced. “Well,” he said. That obviously didn’t work. Eh…” he said with a frown. Man I suck at words, he thought. Zach turned to Jacob in curt acknowledgment. “Good luck dude,” he muttered. “Sissy, stay behind me.” He took to the other side of the pit, and ducked behind a pillar of cement. Sissy did not move.

“Follow Zach,” Jacob ordered.

“Don’t get caught,” Klara whispered.

Sissy sprung to her feet and joined Zach. Her knapsack bobbed as she ran lightly.

“Get ready,” Zach breathed, leaning with his back to the pillar. He put a finger to his lips. “Stay quiet,” Zach told Sissy and raised his eyebrows, searching her face for understanding.

Sissy nodded slowly, her eyes wavering and dark. She copied Zach, also putting a finger to her lips. “Shhh,” she said, smiling.

Zach grinned subtly.

“Are the bad guys coming?” she asked quietly.

Zach nodded; “That’s right Sissy,” he whispered. “Shhh.”

An explosion of heat and light. A thermobaric bomb had detonated, generating a small mushroom cloud.

“Get down!” Zach shouted, coughing. Sissy dropped to one knee, her eyes wide. “Get ready to fire and reload,” Zach commanded, loading the gamma-ray gun built into his arm. He pushed on his sunglasses. Sissy grabbed hold of Zach’s arm and steadied it. Zach opened his hand; his palm glowed white.

A battalion of Robot Children approached, and lined up along the edges of the pit.

“Go!” Zach exclaimed as nuclear hand grenades cascaded down. Sissy’s processors went into overdrive. She surveyed the landscape, and analyzed the situation before firing a series of shots. An eruption of lights and sound. Zach started firing gamma-rays from the firearm in his left hand. No good, he thought. We’re barely neutralizing the attacks, and getting nowhere with this. “Got any ideas?” he asked Sissy rhetorically, “because we’re basically just running down our munitions supply.”

Sissy shook her head. There were two methods. Shoot, or don’t shoot. “Klara,” she suggested, “and Jacob?”

Zach bit his lower lip, as gravel flew into his fortified titanium shoulder at supersonic speed. That’s going to leave a chip, Zach automatically knew. “Sure,” he yelled over the explosions and uproar; his tone was slightly grudging. Sissy’s reliance on humans and uncreative mind annoyed him. He wondered why she often failed to run his commands. One possible answer seemed highly probable, and also bothersome. Zach Sakari was a cyborg, not technically a human being. Thus Sissy ranked Zach lower than Klara, or Jacob. Zach looked at Sissy; his eyes reflected melancholy.

“Sissy…” Zach Sakari began. But before he could finish, an explosion blew off Zach’s sunglasses and knocked him to his knees.