Democracy comes to Copper 9. (Helldivers 2 X Murder Drones.)

September 2184. Copper 9 Surface. One Hour Before Meeting

As darkness descended over the icy wasteland of Copper 9, the setting sun cast long shadows across the snow-covered terrain. A beam of light pierced through the stormy twilight, emanating from the headlamp of Meus's ATV as he navigated the desolate expanse toward his objective. The sight of three ancient tripods earlier had left him uneasy. Though he doubted any Illuminate machines could still be active, their presence lingered at the back of his mind, a gnawing question.

For now, his focus remained on the mission: investigate the unusual heat signatures picked up from orbit. While the other three Helldivers tackled their respective tasks, this one was his alone.

"Super Destroyer Titan of the Constitution, how much farther? I'm nearing waypoint number two," Meus called over the comms.

"Not much farther—about two more miles," an officer replied through the static. "Have you seen anything else of interest?"

"Nothing yet. I'll radio in once I reach the site. Meus out," he responded curtly.

Accelerating down the snowbound path, his headlights illuminated a line of vehicles ahead. Their forms became clearer as he approached—four trucks frozen in place, half-buried in snow and ice. These were unmistakably SEAF transports, the kind used for moving supplies and equipment. Judging by their state, they had been abandoned mid-journey, perhaps while en route to battle the tripods or deliver aid elsewhere.

"Got some trucks here. Stopping to investigate before continuing to the primary objective," Meus announced over the comms. Bringing the ATV to a halt, he dismounted and approached the lead vehicle, his boots crunching in the snow.

"What the hell…" Meus muttered as he examined the side of the truck. Bullet holes riddled the metal, lining the doors and panels like a grim mosaic. "Got something odd here. Small-arms fire, judging by the holes—looks like panic fire. Either from inside or maybe friendly fire. Checking inside for more details."

Reporting as he moved, Meus remained meticulous, aware that every detail could prove vital later. He circled toward the rear of the truck, his breath frosting in the cold air. The back doors gaped open, revealing a harrowing sight: six skeletal remains, their forms preserved by the relentless freeze.

"I count six bodies," he said into the comms, his voice steady but low. "They were long dead before the nukes hit—must've been something else that killed them. This scene… something more went on here than it seems."

"Understood. Mark the location," the officer replied. "We'll dispatch a team later to recover the remains and see if we can identify them. If any of their loved ones are still alive, they'll want to know."

"Copy. Moving on," Meus confirmed, returning to his ATV. The unsettling discovery weighed on him, but time pressed him forward. He left the trucks behind, the snow falling in silent witness to the lost lives, as he continued down the road.

"Have the microsatellites' LADAR or radar picked up anything ahead? Anything that could give me a clearer picture of what I'm heading into?" he asked.

"Cloud cover is interfering with LADAR, but radar's still operational," the officer answered. "Looks like a SEAF base up ahead, which explains the trucks. The thermal scans show odd heat spikes from one of the larger structures. Otherwise, nothing conclusive—though the snow and clouds could be masking other readings. Stay sharp."

"I learned a long time ago never to let my guard down," Meus said. Memories of Terminids emerging from the ground and Stalkers lying in wait flashed in his mind—a constant reminder of the dangers that lurked.

His headlights soon caught the faint glint of fencing through the dead trees. As he pressed on, the remains of a checkpoint and a simple gate came into view. The structure was long decayed, its roof collapsed under years of snow and time, the walls bowed outward.

"I'm at the entrance," Meus reported. "You were right—it's a SEAF base. Looks like it avoided the worst of the nuclear strike, but it's clear the people here didn't escape the aftermath."

"Understood. Is there a way in?" the officer asked.

"There's a gate. No problem getting through. Parking the ATV here and heading inside. Got any more details on those heat spikes?"

"Hard to say," came the reply. "They're coming from one of the larger buildings. Whatever it is, it's big."

"I've taken down big before," Meus said, sliding off the ATV. "I'll check a few of the outlying buildings first, then head for the main ones. I can already make out a large hangar ahead."

Switching off the engine, Meus secured his JAR-5 Dominator, chambered a round, and reached for the MG-206 mounted at the rear, slinging it onto his back. He checked his grenades—two thermite, one smoke, and one high explosive—ensuring they were snugly positioned around his waist. With his gear ready, Meus turned his attention to the gate. Part of it lay toppled in the snow, the other half barely clinging to its hinges. He stepped over the wreckage, advancing toward the collapsed guardhouse.

"Past the gate, moving deeper into the base. I'll report as I go. Got a guardhouse here—roof's caved in from what I can see. Looks like no one was inside when it gave out," Meus said over the radio, stepping past the derelict structure.

Being alone meant constant updates; protocol demanded it. Scanning the area, he noted the absence of vehicles—a sign the SEAF had likely mobilized everything during the invasion.

"No vehicles or aircraft in sight. Heading toward a small prefab building; looks intact. Approaching the stairs now," Meus relayed.

As he neared the entrance, he checked the steps for ice, then tested the door. It was frozen shut. Taking a step back, he drove his boot into it, sending the door flying open. JAR-5 raised, he swept his light across the dark interior. Slowly, he moved inside, the narrow beam cutting through the gloom. The room appeared to have been an office, though long abandoned.

"Inside now. Nothing significant so far. Moving deeper into the building. Picking up anything on your end?" Meus asked through the comms.

"Negative. Weather's causing interference, but no signals of interest," came the officer's reply.

Acknowledging the response with a nod, Meus proceeded further in, stepping around a desk. Ahead lay a small room, cluttered with remnants of office life—a couch and scattered debris. His flashlight glinted off something on the desk, drawing his attention. Upon closer inspection, he found a recording device. Time had rendered it useless; when he picked it up, a piece snapped off, clattering onto the desk's surface. Placing it back, he froze as a noise echoed through the building—a scraping sound like something heavy being dragged across the floor.

"Got a noise... Definitely not the wind," Meus said, shifting his aim toward the source.

He swept his light to the right—nothing. Turning to the left, his beam caught a figure standing with its back turned to him. His heart raced, eyes widening beneath his helmet. He blinked, and the figure was gone. Yet there, at the edge of the wall, an outline of a hand lingered briefly before retreating out of sight.

"What the…?" Meus whispered.

Rushing forward, he rounded the corner with his weapon raised, scanning the space. The room was empty—only him and the shadows.

"Titan of the Constitution, do you read?" Meus asked, his voice steady despite the unease creeping in.

"This is Titan of the Constitution. Report," the officer responded.

"I saw... something. A figure inside the building. But it's gone. One second it was there, and after I blinked, it vanished," Meus said, his gaze darting to every corner.

"Understood. Could you identify the figure?" the officer asked.

"Couldn't tell. Human-like in outline and height, but in this environment? No way it could survive without a suit, and this one wasn't wearing any. I'm moving out. Heading to the hangar next. We'll need a team to sweep this whole base later," Meus said, backing toward the exit.

"Copy that. Complete your sweep, and we'll dispatch a team for a full investigation," the officer replied.

Meus glanced over his shoulder one last time before stepping out. The snowfall had picked up, the cold biting through his suit. Descending the steps, he turned his focus toward the massive hangar dominating the center of the base.

"Heading to the hangar now," Meus said over the comms.

Moving through the snow crunching under his feet, he eyed the front of the hangar. One thing stood out: a hole in the middle of the door. The metal was torn and twisted as if something had forced its way inside. Looking down at the concrete floor, he noticed clawed footprints trailing away from the snow.

"Something is in the hangar. I repeat something is within the hangar. If I don't make a call in thirty minutes, inform Jason and the others," Meus said over the radio.

"Understood. May liberty protect you," the officer replied.

With those words, Meus moved through the opening, stepping inside the massive hangar. His flashlight swept over the area; crates lined the walls, their shadows looming. Slowly stepping forward, he kept his JAR-5 raised, ready for anything. The light from his beam revealed the central part of the hangar was largely empty, though snow and light spilled through a large hole torn in the roof. Wind howled above as snow drifted through.

"Place seems clear so far in the center of the hangar," he said over the radio.

As he scanned the area, fleeting shapes moved in the shadows to his right. He aimed his light ahead, but the beam failed to pierce the oppressive gloom completely. Reaching for his belt, he drew a flare gun, aimed high, and fired. The red light streaked upward, bursting into an eerie glow that illuminated the space.

What it revealed widened his eyes in disbelief. A massive, twisting mass of limbs and a long, worm-like body sprawled across the hangar—a grotesque amalgamation of flesh and shadow, its unnatural form defying comprehension.

"Sweet liberty…" he whispered, the words barely audible as the flare's light faded.

He took a few cautious steps back, his movement seemingly attracting the entity's attention. The grinding of metal and the clatter of crates echoed across the hangar, the sounds unnervingly close. Another noise drew his focus to his left. As he turned his light, it illuminated a bizarre creature. A flash of blue light pulsed from the top of its head; a tail flicked behind it, and six glowing blue eyes—three on each side—stared back at him. It reminded him of the ancient dinosaurs he had read about, though far more alien. Two more emerged from the shadows, halting a few feet away.

Each was a machine. Pulses of blue light flickered from their heads as he raised his weapon, aiming at the one in front.

"[Amused] Oh, hello there," a voice called from behind him.

He spun around. A pair of camera-like eyes, glowing yellow, stared at him, mounted on long, metallic arms—seven in total. They extended from the darkness, connected to an enormous mass hidden within the shadows. It was clear now: he was surrounded.

"What in the name of Super Earth are you?" Meus demanded, hoping to gather information before resorting to violence.

"[Amused] I am a simple being, following my directive: gather resources," it replied with an almost mocking tone.

"You some kind of drone?" Meus asked, keeping his weapon steady.

"[Amused] Oh, those are our cute puppets," it sneered. Its glowing eyes narrowed. "It hurts that you humans don't remember us."

The entity's tone and movements betrayed its intent to toy with him. Refusing to give it the upper hand, Meus swiftly pulled a smoke grenade from his belt and tossed it. The grenade exploded into a thick cloud, obscuring its view. Taking advantage of its apparent surprise, Meus turned and opened fire on the nearest creature. The JAR-5 rounds tore into its metallic body, detonating within and ripping it apart.

"[Confused] Wait—what? What is happening?" the voice stammered, distorted by the smoke.

Meus didn't pause, sprinting toward the hangar's far end. He turned to fire at the remaining two creatures as they charged, their bodies shredded by the explosive rounds. But the greater threat still loomed. Emerging fully from the darkness, the entity's form was horrifyingly clear: its body was long and thin, resembling a monstrous hybrid of a worm and centipede. Rows of metallic arms lined its underside, and at the front, a drone-like head bristled with needle-like teeth. A single yellow X-shaped optic dominated its face.

"[Annoyed] Do you have any idea how hard it is to replace them?" it growled.

Acting quickly, Meus glanced upward, spotting a hole in the ceiling. Seizing the opportunity, he typed commands into his device and threw a beacon. The entity swatted it aside, but its placement was irrelevant; it only needed to land.

"[Hungry] Time for you to get into my mouth," the creature taunted, closing in.

"I've got something for you to eat—from orbit," Meus retorted.

Above, a red laser targeted the creature. Seconds later, the railgun of his Super Destroyer fired, its round tearing through the monstrosity. The impact sent chunks of its body flying, snow and dust swirling in the aftermath.

"Liberty dammit," Meus muttered between breaths. He'd never imagined encountering something so nightmarish.

He approached the bisected creature cautiously, his JAR-5 ready. Its massive form lay still, but movement near the front half caught his eye. A small, fleshy object with a single yellow eye squirmed away.

"Sneaky sneaky. Sneaking away. Get snuck up on," it muttered, its voice grotesque.

Without hesitation, Meus fired, his shots tearing into the abomination. "Ow," it whimpered as chunks of flesh and limbs flew off. "OwOwOW." A final round reduced it to unrecognizable strands of meat.

"Sir, are you alright?" a voice crackled over his radio.

"Yeah… one moment…" Meus replied.

"Jason wants your status. Patching you through now," the officer said.

After a brief pause, Meus responded, "Still kicking. Got a sample of something interesting. Encountered unknown hostiles—I'll explain when I return."

He picked up the remains of the fleshy object, securing it in his sample holder.

"Titan of the Constitution, inform the SEAF team to bring heavy weapons and air support. There's something big here in the hangar that needs to be examined. I'm getting out now," Meus ordered, stepping over the creature's remains.

It was time to leave—before any more surprises surfaced. As he moved, one thought lingered: they were going to need bigger guns.

Edited thanks to ELE73CH.