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This story is about 1800 words.

"Mark position 7-3. They're moving to the left."

He turned his mech to the position indicated by the last man. The gauge at the top of his view screen read 7-4. He fired.

The heavy gun and the remaining working one on the lower side fired at full velocity. 1000 rounds were spent in a second as the big tanks in the base of the mech feed round after round into the big guns and poured them out in a stream of fire that spread out three meters from the guns themselves.

He released the trigger.

"Did we get them?" a lone voice asked in the silence that followed.

He waited. His heart was beating too fast and he could feel the blood pumping out of his body and down the greenish uniform that his squad had been assigned. There was no sound. Did we get them? It was a good question. There was definitely more than one group - there always was. Were they dead too?

He pushed the button on the side of the monitor and the screen stopped flickering as he reset the software that had malfunctioned when the shells hit him. The screen came right and he tried to see through the haze of death and destruction around him. Nothing.

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