Steel Don't Bleed

The Link

The refugee camp lay sprawled beneath the night sky, tents clustered haphazardly, the few lanterns flickering weakly against the darkness. Children peeked from behind canvas walls, and adults stared, wary and exhausted. Dust still hung in the air from the recent chaos, and the acrid scent of smoke lingered faintly. Iris’s eyes swept the camp, alert, cataloging exits, cover, and possible threats, even as questions from the battlefield pressed at the back of her mind.

Iris and Elias stepped out, following Alex, the team forming a tight protective perimeter. The leaders of the camp—two men and a woman—approached cautiously, faces drawn tight with worry.

“We didn’t see what they were after,” one of the men said, voice low. “We’ve got nothing worth taking. Food, water… that’s all. What were they here for?”

Iris shook her head. “We’re hoping you could tell us.”

Elias’s gaze swept the perimeter. “Could be the data core,” he suggested quietly. “Maybe they’re looking for it again.”

Alex frowned. “I don’t see why,” he said. “This is just a refugee camp, not some security site.”

The older woman, hands scarred from years of labor, gestured toward the cratered field outside the camp. “The fighting… we saw it from a distance. Two of your people went up against the two best fighters. One of them—the young man, Jackson—he…” Her voice faltered, eyes dropping.

Elias clenched his jaw but said nothing. Iris’s stomach twisted.

“And the other?” the camp leader pressed.

“Iris,” Elias said, eyes flicking toward her. “Your opponent?”

She nodded slowly. “Unreal speed. Precision. They blocked and countered everything I did. And…” She hesitated.

“What is it, Iris?” Alex prompted.

“Nothing… I’ve just never fought someone so good. No offense,” she added, glancing at Elias.

“None taken,” he said casually. She didn’t mention the blood, though something in her gut told her to keep it to herself—for now.

A hush fell over the gathered refugees. Then, a whisper: “They fought like… robots.”

The group froze. The word hung in the air, impossible.

“Robots?” the older woman barked, laughing nervously. “You think the machines are walking around again? That’s absurd. Nobody’s seen a robot in over 100 years.”

Elias stepped forward, arms crossed. “The mercs stole a data core months ago.”

Alex shook his head. “Is that enough time? I don’t see how they could pull something like this together so fast. And why would they think to look for it here?”

“They’ve had years,” one of the younger camp leaders muttered. “The Black Talon made the robots a hundred years ago. Some say they never really stopped—people have seen them, or at least rumors say they kept making them in secret.”

“That’s just conspiracy,” another added quickly. “The last robot was destroyed on the battlefield during the Great War. No one’s seen one since.”

Iris leaned toward Sadie, voice low. “Wait… the robots—they were actually alive?”

Sadie’s eyes darkened. “Yes. Feared more than anything else. The Black Talon wanted control of everything, and robots seemed… easier to command. Governments and people couldn’t take the chance. Rallies formed, fights broke out, and they ended up destroying all of them—or so everyone thought.”

Iris swallowed, trying to picture it. “And the war?”

Sadie’s voice dropped, eyes scanning the camp as if the past could rise up at any moment. “The Great War. That’s when it all ended. Black Talon had built the robots, and they tried to use them to take control—but there weren’t enough to win outright. Governments and people rallied together, fought back, and destroyed nearly all of them. Still… Black Talon came out on top. The few robots that survived… rumors say Black Talon hunted the rest down, though no one knew exactly why. By the end, the robots were gone—or so everyone thought. “Everything burned. Cities, borders, records… the world went apocalyptic. Supplies, technology, everything was scarce. That’s why the data core had to be recovered. The only way to stop Black Talon from rebuilding, if they were trying.”

Iris glanced around, lowering her voice to a whisper. “So… you believe the robots could be back?”

Sadie just shrugged again, eyes flicking to the cratered field.

The older woman shook her head. “It’s impossible. Just old stories.”

Elias stepped in, focusing the group. “We deal in facts, not stories. But the fighting… whoever they were, they were precise. Fast. Lethal. We’ll figure out what they wanted.”

Iris’s gaze fell to her pocket. The small angular piece of machinery she’d picked up after the fight felt heavy against her palm. Slowly, she pulled it out, letting it rest in her hand as Alex leaned in.

“What is that?” one of the camp leaders asked.

Iris met Alex’s eyes. “I… don’t know. Found it on the field.”

“That looks like a link,” the younger leader said, leaning closer, fingers hovering over the angular piece. “Mind if I see it?”

Iris handed it over, and he turned it in his hands, inspecting the metal and etchings carefully.

Elias frowned. “A link? What’s that?”

The man’s eyes darkened, his voice dropping. “It’s… like a joint in a bone. For robots, it’s how their limbs connect, move. If this is what I think it is… it could mean there are still functional robots out there.”

The group stiffened at the possibility, murmurs rising. Even the refugees, who had shrugged off talk of machines earlier, exchanged uneasy glances.

Iris’s hand twitched. She pulled the piece back, turning it over in her palm. Something about it felt familiar, but she couldn’t place it. The memory of the fighter’s speed, precision, and that dark red-black blood flickered across her mind.

Elias placed a hand lightly on her shoulder. “Keep it close,” he said quietly. “We’ll figure out what this means… later.”

Iris slipped it back into her pocket, the weight of it settling heavier now, a silent reminder that the past might not be as gone as everyone thought.