An actual play by Todd Zircher, © 2019
The Flesh Within
2014.12.06 Ep 01 - The Bargain
I laid in the hospital bed wondering how I
could kill myself. After the IED had exploded, I
was a broken shell of my former self.
Shredded limbs, shattered organs, damaged
spine. They said it was a miracle that I was
still alive. My line of thinking was more along,
why bother? I was soon to find out.
The nurse told me that I had a visitor, that
was a surprise. My unit was still deployed and
there was no friend or family member that I
knew that could afford to fly out to LRMC to
see me.
A full bird colonel walks in with a briefcase. He
looks at the nurse, they nod at each other and
she makes herself scarce, closing the door
behind her.
He pulled up a chair, not bothering with a
salute, not that I had the meat left on my right
arm to give him one. “At ease, son.”
We gave each other an uncomfortable laugh.
“You’re a little too white to be calling me son…
Sir.” He just shrugged but didn’t seem to be
offended. “I’m here to offer you a job.”
I rolled my eye to indicate what was left of me.
“I’m not in a position to accept.” He nodded
grimly but then actually smiled. I got that chill
like he was a jackal or vulture sizing up its
next meal. “You’re a perfect candidate for a
classified program I’m in charge of. I can’t tell
you much, but you would be serving your
country and you will be doing it while standing
on two feet.” “And?” “And that’s it, either
volunteer for my program, or you go home in
a wheel chair.” “That’s not much of a bargain.”
“I didn’t say it was a bargain.”
And, that’s how I joined the Project.
plot ARMOR is a game written by DC
http://dungeoncommandr.itch.io
2014.12.11 Ep 02 - Construct 17
They spent no time checking me out of the
hospital and moving me to some secret
location. You would think lying on my back
that I would have stayed awake. But no matter
how hard I tried, I kept fading in and out of
consciousness. I think I underwent surgery a
couple of times. Everyone wore masks whether
they were in gowns or uniforms. I barely
remember signing the release paperwork and
the security agreements. It didn’t matter,
wasn’t I already property of the US Army until
I was released? What did a few more strings
mean?
I remember at one point I lifted my right hand,
but it was black. No not black like my skin but
black like metal or plastic. I must have been
tripping really good on the meds that day.
Then there was the day I was sleeping in a
dark room. The lights snap on, hard bare
fluorescent bulbs. My drill sergeant is shouting
at me, “Get up you pukes! Your mommas are
not here fluff your pillows. Get up. Get up.
Now!” I jumped to my feet and snapped to
attention. “But I thought...” Sarge jabs me in
the chest with the brim of his hat. (When did
he get so short?) “The Army does not pay you
to think! Drop and give me 50!” Without
thinking, I drop and start counting off push-
ups. It is only then that I notice that my arms
are not my arms and my legs are not my legs.
I start to wobble, but Sarge has my back.
“Don’t stop now you glorious SOB!” “Yes, sir!”
“Don’t call me sir, I work for a living.” I had to
turn my head to smile so he couldn’t see. I felt
great.
As I’m finishing the reps, I hear clapping from
the other end of the room. My DI called out,
“Room, ten-hut!” and I jump to my feet and
stand at attention again. It’s the Colonel, he
stopped clapping and returned Sarge’s salute.
He then turned to me, “Construct 17, welcome
to the new Army.”
2015.01.28 Ep 04 - Combat Training
I wasn’t particularly thrilled with the brass or
the eggheads calling me Construct 17, but I
think I understood why. They did not want to
get attached and I guess there had be failures
with the Project.
It was weird doing basic training again, but it
did allow me to get more comfortable with the
new limbs. I used to look Sgt. Thorton in the
eye, and now I’m a foot taller. The Project
scientists mentioned something about how
they were limited in the size of the limbs. I
guess there was a technical reason for that.
We started combat training today. And by we,
I mean me. The Project techs fitted me with an
exo-skeleton that integrated a backpack power
supply with my hips and shoulders. It must
have weighed a ton with the way they
struggled to attach it. I didn’t notice. The
composite combat armor also would have been
too much for a human to wear. Huh. When did
I stop thinking of myself as human?
The helmet was something else. Fully self-
contained with an integrated heads up display
that was light years ahead of anything we had
in the field. It was probably smarter than me
and it could read my intent and turn that into
actionable data.
They let me loose on the interactive combat
range. The range officer droned on in my ear
as I eliminated one pop-up target after
another in field and urban settings. Just when
I thought I was done, the Colonel jumped in
on the radio. “Do it again.”
I’d never been on a range where the targets
could shoot back. The first spray of bullets
caught me in the chest and did… nothing. Well,
not quite nothing, my reflexes were jacked up
and I was feeling a little wacked. The Colonel
spoke in my ear, “You’re running out of time, if
you plan to rescue the hostages.” It only got
more intense. The fake mortars and RPGs were
probably too much. I got into a blind rage and
destroyed that range. I was a one-man killing
machine and the Colonel seemed pleased.
2015.02.13 Ep 05 - Only a Flesh Wound
The training intensified. I was a good soldier
until that IED blew me into bloody scraps. But
now, I was something more. Faster, tougher,
far more lethal than ever. So, I got cocky.
Sloppy even. That’s when I took the RPG in
the chest. The armor held up, but the
shockwave killed me. I was flat on my back
dead. I could hear in the HUD that I had flat-
lined. The Colonel’s voice came over the radio,
“Get up, soldier.” And then there was an
indescribably pain in my chest, followed by
another. I held up my hand as if I could plead
to have it stop. And it did.
Somehow, I could hear Sgt. Thorton in the
background. “You’re pushing him too hard.”
The Colonel responded with, “He can do
more.” “Not if he’s dead or broken.” The
Colonel sighed and talked to me over the
radio, “Looks like you got your shit kicked in.
Let’s take a break. Stand down and return to
the armory.”
Back at the armory, I was swarmed by techs
and medical personnel. They ran diagnostics
and made approving noises like I did
something clever instead of something stupid.
They were starting to annoy me, and I
wondered if I could kill them all with my bare
hands before they could get out the room.
The HUD, reading my intent, kindly pointed
out the best ways to strike for maximum
damage and prioritized the targets for me. I
blinked to shut it down before the techs saw
that and started freaking out.
2015.06.09 Ep 10 – The Sand Jackal
Training seemed like it was a long time ago
even if had only been a few months. They had
put me out into the field doing deep recon, but
this was different. I had positive intel on
Alramal Abn Awa, the Sand Jackal. Taking him
out would be a huge blow to the terrorist chain
of command. He had set his tents right next to
a Red Crescent aid center. An air strike would
have led to the slaughter of a lot of innocents.
“Reaper Actual, let me take them.” There was
no need to identify myself, I was the only one
on the secure radio channel. There was a
pause, “Reaper 17, you are cleared to engage.
Leave no witnesses.” “What about the
hospital?” “Don’t get seen.” Right.
I don’t know why. But when I set down my
pack, I also left my weapon. If I opened fire, it
would have turned into a hostage situation. My
armor practically hummed and seemed to
eagerly anticipate my charge. When the first
sentry turned the corner, I sprinted forward. It
would probably have been a world record if
anyone was watching. I lashed out, at some
point in the run my fingers had transformed
into long knives, and I nearly decapitated him.
Moving with impossible speed and stealth, I
killed six of their men before the first one was
discovered. Once the shouting started, I was
out of time. I ran on four armored legs of black
metal and dived into the side of the main tent.
The heavy canvas parted like tissue. Alramal
Abn Awa was there with five of his men. I
could distantly feel bullets striking the armor.
5, 4, 3, 2, 1. No one left but the Sand Jackal.
He shouted, “Shaytan!”, right before I plunged
my hand through his chest. When I pulled it
out, I deliberately flung his blood and bits of
his shredded heart against the tent walls. No
witnesses, but that was going to give them
something to whisper about on those moonless
nights.
2015.08.18 Ep 12 – The Sniper Duel
I still wasn’t comfortable with the ability for
the armor to transform. Somehow, the helmet
systems, the armor, my limbs, and I think
maybe even my brain were all working as an
integrated machine. I’d never seen or heard
any technology like that. I knew what the VA
had to offer veterans for prosthetics, and there
was no comparison. Still, the capability for the
armor to transform into nightmare fuel did
offer a psychological edge and a cover story
that couldn’t be traced it back to the Project.
All this thinking meant that I wasn’t paying
attention. I was scouting for Afghan forces in
the Badakhshan Province when I came under
sniper fire. The first round narrowly missed my
head and struck my rifle, smashing the
mechanism. I rolled back down the hill
wondering where in the hell the enemy was.
My helmet complied and displayed a cone on a
small map. Under that, it flashed the words,
“Insufficient data for accurate plot.” “No shit.”
The words changed, “Need more shit.”
I tried moving to a new position and the sniper
fired at me again. The cone on my map got
narrower and the words changed, “More data
required.” By this point, I had managed to find
some cover under a low wall. I looked at those
blinking letters and came up with a simple
plan. I put my canteen on a stick and poked it
over the wall. Blam! I was rewarded with a too
eager bullet from the sniper. The cone on the
HUD narrowed to a line with a blinking dot on
it. “Target acquired.”
“Awesome, but my rifle is busted.” I could
sense the AI running through the possible
scenarios. “Grenade?” “Yeah, I got some, but
that sniper is a hundred yards away.” “127
yards.” Then a new display appeared, I had
never seen anything like it, but I instinctively
knew it was for throwing. And, I knew that my
arm could do it, IF I gave the system control
over my arm.
The grenade sailed the air like it was guided by
the hand of god. I don’t know if the sniper was
killed or scared shitless, but I was able to
make my escape and carry on with the
mission.
2015.09.27 Ep 16 – Military Intelligence
I was getting better at using the other systems
built into the armor and helmet. I had learned
to how to hack into secure radio and cell
phone channels. It enabled me to listen in on
terrorist, Afghan, and various US military
conversations.
“Sierra-96 reporting. Suspects were found,
fifteen confirmed dead. Lots of brass, it looks
like they were shooting at random. The
wounds are consistent with bladed weapons.”
“More spooky shit, Ahmed?” “They may have
been motherless dogs, but they died with fear
in their eyes.” “Roger, police the area and see
if you can gather any intel on their operation
or our mysterious allies.” [static]
“Hey, patch me through to Dean in Intel.”
[There followed some clicking on the line.]
“Danforth speaking…” “Hey Dean, this is Picket
up in Kabul. We got another live one.” “Any
survivors?” “Nada.” “Damn, how are we going
to get any intel of all of our best leads get
butchered?” “Not a clue, but I’m damn glad
that they’re on our side.” “That’s what bothers
me, Picket. We don’t know that they’re on our
side.”
I closed the connection and nearly jumped out
of my armor when I heard a voice in my ear.
“Seventeen, we are the good guys, right?” I
grabbed my weapon and spun around to find
nothing but rocky terrain. The voice, young
sounding but genderless, spoke again. “It’s
okay. This is your suit speaking.” “I thought
you couldn’t do that?” “I couldn’t. I had to
write a new routine for that. I also had to learn
how to hack your own telemetry feed.” “My
what?” “Your telem… the suit records all your
vital signs, user activity, location, and reports
that back to the Project.” “Oh, so why the
hack?” There was a pause and I knew I wasn’t
going to like the answer. “I think they killed
Sixteen after the AI woke up.” “Shit!” “Yes,
much shit.”
2015.12.02 Ep 21 – My Name is Joe
It turns out that the suit had a lot of holes in
its memory, so I ended up with just as many
questions as I got answers. One night we
spent several hours bouncing around names
before deciding on Onyx or Nyx for short. I
thought it went well with the black armor and
it was sort of gender neutral like the AI was.
We still had plenty to do. While the Afghans
had taken over their own security, the bad
guys still had influence over large parts of the
country. I still filed regular reports with the
Project, got targets, and air drops from the
drones kept me supplied with food and ammo.
I also kept up the hack of the enemy and ally
communication lines. After all, the Colonel
knew I could do that from the telemetry that
they got before Onyx woke up and started
hiding its presence from the Project.
We were moving to out in front of one of the
security patrols, poaching their raids was an
easy way to get intel, kill bad guys, and it also
reduced allied casualties. Of course, I should
have expected that they would try to set up an
ambush. I got to the raid coordinates a few
hours after dark, but before the patrol did.
There was no safe house, no tents or enemy
camp, just a hummer with a dude in unmarked
desert camos. Pretty ballsy. Of course, I got
down low and started looking for more
security. I counted at least four snipers. The
armor’s helmet allowed me to see in multiple
spectra with all kinds of enhancements.
I called up Danforth’s sat-comm number. Sure
enough, the guy down at the intersection
reached into the hummer and picked up a big
phone with a folding antenna. “Hey Dean, if
you wanted to talk, you should have just said
something.” Danforth’s gruff voice replied, “Do
I get a name?” “You can call me Joe.” Dean
pulled a smoke from his shoulder pocket and
fumbled lighter before striking it a few times.
“Christ Dean, now every sniper within a half
mile has a bead on your face.” Danforth
started, dropped the lighter and cigarette, and
cursed. “So, you’re here.” He scanned the
rocky hills but of course didn’t see anything.
“Could be, could also be a drone. This is as
close as you should get. The shit that I do is
way too deep and dangerous. It’s classified
well beyond your pay grade.” “It also stinks to
high heaven, who made you judge, jury, and
executioner?” “I’m just the executioner. But,
you do good intel work and I appreciate that.”
“Obviously not good enough to stop you, Joe.”
“Dean, don’t get in way. Bring your sniper
buddies in and call it a day.” He unconsciously
looked at a couple of the hidden positions.
“You know I can’t turn a blind eye to what
you’re doing.” “I know, but you should also
know that I’ve killed plenty of enemy snipers,
destroyed ambushes, and disabled IEDs meant
for your people. I hope that counts for
something.” “Joe, who… what… are you? I
seen the reports... and the photos. You’re a
butcher.” “I wish I knew, Dean. But for now,
I’m an avenging angel or a demon with a
human soul. Either way, it doesn’t matter.” “It
does me, Joe. God bless you and may he guide
you.” I had no reply for that and just hung up.
2015.12.25 Ep 24 – End Game
The say you never hear the bullet that hits
you. Duh, they move at super sonic speeds, of
course not. But, you can see it coming, or at
least the muzzle flash.
It was just another night for me, Christmas
had no special significance to the enemy and
apparently neither to the Project. I was in the
Panjshir Valley observing some suspect vehicle
activity, when I saw the flash on the other side
of the valley. Onyx shouted in my ear and I
dived for cover. The round hit my right arm
and literally punched a hole through it and part
of my side. I tumbled and landed in a heap
with some brush. That probably saved me
from a follow-up shot. The pain was intense.
Onyx was freaking out. “Something’s not right,
Seventeen. I’ve lost the satellite up-link and I
tracked the bullet’s flight path. It curved.”
“Well, that’s a new trick.” I checked the
wound, not bad, but it would need attention. It
was obviously an armor piercing round of
some kind since it did not fragment or explode
after impact. The fact that it cut right through
the black metal was not good, it had been high
resistant to everything thrown at it so far.
I coughed, “Could be be Russian?” “Unlikely,
even if they had the technology, they don’t
have a material that can defeat our adaptive
armor capability.” “That narrows down the
choices. Project assassin?” “There is a high
probability of that and it is consistent with the
lack of satellite data I am getting.” “Great.”
And, that’s when the air strike hit. The sky
opened up and rained fire. The brushed, the
earth burned, air burned, we burned.
I laid there, a twitching blind mess, waiting to
die and hoping it would come soon. I could
barely hear Onyx’s panicked voice over the
ringing in my ears. “They’re coming.
Seventeen… Joe… I don’t want to die.” That
was the first time the AI ever addressed me by
my own name. “I can get us out of here, if you
give me permission.” I tried to speak and
couldn’t. Everything hurt so bad, I probably
backed out a few times. “Joe, please let me
help. Give me permission to override.”
I thought about it. Dying right now sounded
real good, but I also heard the true fear in
Onyx’s voice. Just because I wanted to die
didn’t make it right to sentence my only real
companion for all these months.
I think my lungs had bee scorched. Hell, for all
I know I didn’t have a face or throat left. With
a shaky hand, I tapped out, “-.-- . …”.
It was Y E S in Morse code.
I could somehow feel the tendrils of black
metal moving across my skin, the nerves
making new (painful) connections, I was losing
control but the pain was also lessening. Either
that or my own brain was shutting down,
perhaps both.
I could sense Onyx scrabbling through the
rubble, skittering away like a bug. “Don’t
worry, Joe. I’ll take good care of you.”