Mamba's Four-Finger-Death-Punch
rating: +2+x

The entirety of PHYSICS Strike Team 9998, codename "Bad Company," stood inside of the chassis hangar. Through the windows that were leveled high above the ground, a flash of lightning could be seen filling the atmosphere outside as rain pattered on the glass.

Bo looked at the beautiful arrangements of Ultra Heavy Engagement Chassis against the Western wall of the hangar, four of them being prepped for the team’s engagement with the worst enemy to ever be conjured.

“Alright, kids,” Bo said as he began approaching the chassis of his choice. “Eenie, meenie, miney, moe,” he said as he climbed the ladder presented behind the mechanical exoskeleton. He sat in the pilot seat, feeling as if he was in a virtual reality session of Titanfall. The cigarette he had in his mouth continued to ignite further as he inhaled and exhaled the toxins.

Bo placed one earbud in his left ear, opposite of the receiving ear of his communication headset. Kashmir would play as he started up the chassis, stepping three paces forward in the large automaton as the ground rumbled slightly due to the force presented with each step.

The rest of the team stood there, still staring at the chassis which sat in front of them idly. The rest of Bad Company consisted of Johnny B. Goode, Mamba, and Blondie.

Johnny B. Goode fixed goggles over his light blue eyes, proceeding to let out a sigh of gloom knowing well that there may be no chance of return, especially when these suits were needed. Johnny proceeded to grab a bar on the front of the suit allowing him to hoist himself up into it.

Mamba adjusted the straps on his backpack, his fingerless gloves loosening. His right pinkie happened to be missing, due to an incident with this enemy once before. His brown eyes reflected the light of the hangar off of them, absorbing the beauty of the orange suits.

“Hot damn,” Mamba said. “I never thought I’d actually be able to ride in one of these.” He walked over to the one on the far left, climbing up the front of the chassis rather than properly entering it from the back.

He’d sit down with a grunt as his buttocks slapped against the comfortable seating of the Ultra Heavy Engagement Chassis, moving his hands to place one on each of the joysticks. “It’s like a damn video game.”

"Damn right it is," replied Johnny. "A badass one, at that."

Blondie stood as hangar workers passed by, noting her hourglass figure. She was irresistible, her perfect Aryan physique presenting itself in military gear. She’d tie her hair in a ponytail as she walked up to the only available chassis left. She climbed the side, similar to the way that Mamba would, taking a seat in the pilot's area. Nobody could resist Blondie’s appearance; yes, not even Johnny B. Goode.

The voice of Under-Secretary-General DC al Fine pierced through Bad Company’s headsets, barking orders as soon as the words began.

“Bad Company, you better be ready to go, now. Darkblade’s on the move.”

“Let’s move, boys,” Blondie said as she started up her chassis. Jackal and Johnny B. Goode would do the same as they began to walk towards the hangar door, which would open with a dramatic atmosphere.

The rain from outside of the hangar would come pouring in as the door continued to ascend, pounding against the orange-tinted mechs as each of the suits’ shoulder lights activated, shining a long beam of light into the darkness of the outside world. Another flash of lightning would occur, and Jackal would wince.

“I’m on the wrong side of Heaven,” Johnny B. Goode would exclaim as the team would take multiple steps out of the hangar, now completely drenched in the falling precipitation.

“We’ve got a mission, boys,” Bo said as he took the lead in the perfect diamond formation their chassis formed. “Let’s go liquidate Darkblade.”


Darkblade stood in the abandoned parking lot, drenching himself in the rain; but soon, it would be the blood of his enemies. He could wait for now.

Darkblade held the handle of his katana with both hands as he let the tip of the blade touch the ground, balancing it straight up in a samurai’s position. He knew Bad Company was on their way, and he was ready for a fight.

He stood for around 2 hours, completely still, waiting for the Coalition’s arrival. His silver hair would flow in the wind of the storm, presenting quite a dramatic stance to anyone who may have been unlucky enough to come into contact with the warrior himself.

“They will be here soon enough,” Darkblade stated to himself in monotone. “They are worthy enough to gain my patience.”


Bad Company advanced through the forested area, the stomps of their automatons filling the air with the screeching of joints and the pounding of mud beneath their feet. They had been walking for about two hours now, extremely similar to the grace of Darkblade’s patience.

As they continued to walk, their shoulder-mounted flood lights shining onto the dark green earth that presented itself beneath them.

"This is going to be one hell of a wild ride," Blondie said to the rest of her team as the rain continued to patter down onto their heads. "Jackal's already had a bit of a battle with Darkblade, and it didn't go too well."

"Look, I'm alive, alright?" Mamba snapped back. "But in about an hour, Darkblade won't be."

"That's the spirit, kid," Bo stated as he continued to take accelerated steps towards the area where Darkblade happened to be residing at.

As they reached a point where forestation took a halt, they noticed a large parking lot which had revealed itself. The majority of the lines which had been painted were faded away, and the only vehicles that happened to be parked were rusted and dysfunctional.

Darkblade was there, standing in the middle of it all, still in the position of a true samurai. He had noticed the stomps coming from about a mile away, and when they paused and he could feel the warmth of their floodlights, he knew that they had arrived.

Bad Company noticed the perfect warrior standing idly amongst the cracked pavement beneath his feet, and took an offensive stance, ready to open fire with the gattling guns hooked up to their chassis. Their barrels began to spin, aimed towards Darkblade.

"Leave, Bad Company," Darkblade shouts in a booming voice. As he spoke, he refused to move, still standing in a perfect resting position, staring at the horizon which was painted a dull grey. "You should know what happens if you wish to engage in combat with a true warrior."

Mamba's fists clenched around the joysticks as that last sentence exited Darkblade's mouth. "You motherfucker," he'd say under his breath, being the first to advance towards Darkblade's position.

"Let's swarm this bastard," Johnny B. Goode stated as he followed along right behind Mamba. Bo and Blondie soon joined in, spreading out in all four directions— North, East, South, and West— to surround Darkblade. They refused to stop readying their weaponry pointed at Darkblade's centered mass.

As the four surrounded them, Darkblade let out a chuckle of pity. He tightened his grip on the handle of the katana.

"This queer's gonna get it," Mamba whispered to himself as his chassis took the South of the diamond formation.

"On three," Bo stated through the communication headset.

"One."

"Two."

"Three." As the last word exited his mouth, all four chassis began to open fire onto Darkblade. Darkblade deflected any and all bullets with inhuman reactions using his katana.

Blondie pressed a button on her left joystick, allowing a small barrage of rocket-propelled grenades to head towards Darkblade.

As Darkblade continued to swat the bullets like flies, a sudden mass of rainwater would collect itself and form a broad shield around Darkblade's back. The explosives would make contact with the shield, obliterating it.

The smoke from the explosion revealed Darkblade to be standing there, completely unharmed from the attack. "You're going to have to try harder than that, Aryan…"

Mamba's eyebrows lowered into a position revealing obvious anger. Attached to his chassis would be a flamethrower capable of long-range combat. He'd twist the right joystick into a position where a flame would ignite itself at the front of the flamethrower. He'd begin to advance towards Darkblade's position, pressing a button which allowed the gas to escape the barrel of his weapon, creating a steady stream of flames pointed towards Darkblade.

Darkblade finally became mobile, running with incredible speeds in circles around Mamba. Mamba continued to open fire, trying to hit Darkblade with the concentrated stream of heat.

Johnny B. Goode snuck up around Darkblade, waiting around the hypothetical corner of Darkblade's perfect circle. Darkblade was oblivious to Johnny's advancements, and so he slammed into the defensive arm of Johnny's chassis.

"Take that, punk!" Johnny shouted. While Darkblade was on the floor, a leg of his automaton would raise itself, clearly readying to curbstomp Darkblade.

The samurai quickly rolled out from under the mechanical boot's path, dodging death with only inches to spare. He stood up quickly, slicing the leg off of Johnny's exoskeleton. It fell to the floor with a loud creak and a "Damn," from Johnny.

Bo began his path towards Johnny's fallen mecha as Johnny crawled out of the pilot seat. Blondie continued to open fire with the long strain of .50 caliber bullets readied in the shoulder-mounted minigun.

"Eat lead, asshole," Blondie said as she relentlessly held down the button to open fire. Darkblade quickly dashed out of the next wave of Mamba's flames, heading towards Blondie.

"Oh no you don't," whispered Bo as he shot a harpoon out of his special weapon designed specifically for the chassis he had chosen. The harpoon screeched through the air in Darkblade's direction, hitting him directly in the shoulder blade.

"Damn you!" Darkblade shouted as he stopped in his tracks to rip the harpoon out of himself, blood spurting out as if Bo had hit an artery.

A bolt of lightning struck Darkblade from the grey skies above, and a power unleashed itself within him.

"You asked for this," Darkblade shouted towards Bo. He quickly switched his attention from Blondie to Bo, sprinting at full speed in his direction.

"Fuck!" Bo yelled as he realized he was not prepared. Darkblade quickly stabbed his katana into the pilot seat, impaling Bo directly in a lung. Bo gasped for air as he spat out blood, accepting his death. Before he died, he let out a single, weakened punch to Darkblade's eye.

Darkblade let out a yelp of anger as Mamba shouted out in his direction.

"You motherfucker! You killed him! You fucking killed him!" Mamba turned off his flamethrower, this time using his orange suit to charge in Darkblade's direction.

"No!" shouted Blondie. Johnny couldn't do anything but crawl on the ground and continue to be drenched in natural precipitation.

"Fool," Darkblade whispered to himself. He began in a sprint directly towards Mamba, as if they were two bulls readying to collide.

"Four finger death punch, motherfucker!" Mamba's exoskeleton's fist slammed into Darkblade's head, causing it to explode like an inflated watermelon. Darkblade's body fell to the ground, steam arising from the orifice that used to be his skull.

The parking lot fell silent until Johnny spoke up through his headset. "But the mech has five fingers, Mamba…"

Mamba held up the hand attached to his body, revealing only four fingers. "He took my finger. I took his life."

"Fair enough."

The grey clouds continued to unleash waves of H2O as another lightning bolt filled the air. Victory was Bad Company's.


"Woah, woah, woah," Kilroy stated, sitting in the barracks of his strike team. "That's not how the story goes."

"How does it go, then?" Tigress snapped back. "Because that's how I remember it."

"The real story is that Darkblade killed them. All of them."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Kilroy replied. "It's true that it was a dark and stormy night, though."

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