The descending ranks of the Chastine Regiment corps:
A renegade brigade of federal operatives marched through the density of foliage forsaking incessant vehicular racket that would ruin the delight of a perfectly exacted ambush. The squadron of soldiers who would normally appear to be clad in white elongated dome plates of anti-everything armor, had now faded themselves into the fog of the swamp by activating the stealth mode of their now translucent carapaces, making them not quite invisible but more like a clear plastic that didn’t show the human inside of the cocoon-like suits. 12 of them were there total, but even a razor sharp set of eyes could probably only detect two of them through the haze of mist. They were led by an exceptionally tall towering member of the Scarab Court who was about 8 ft. of vertical reach from her toes to her nose , but nobody was counting. The could perhaps be mistaken for a tree, were her jousting steel frame lurking through mud not such a an intimidating presence to any potential pedestrian traffic. Her armor was uniquely modified with runic carvings in the shapes of circles and lines that looked like they could be carvings of some wizards spell, assuming the wizard was strong enough to drag a blade through her armor to carve the jagged symbols, but she certainly was. The name indented in her armor, had become infected was now leaking a waterfall of rust on her clavicle plate, making it look more like an insignia of horror than a clearly printed name, which read “Zantedechia” with scribbled slashes below it reading “Angel claw of the Incapacitation” placed above enough tally marks to cover half of her torso, that was somewhere over 200. On the hip of her more humanoid looking left hand was the pronounced fluted barrel of of her pistol that would be considered a sniper weapon to an decently size man. Her right hand if it could be called anything less than a claw, had several mantis like blades folded upright around her arm in a parallel rounded cage formation originating from where her fingers should have been.
What was worse than being stranded in the titan foliage with fellow potentially duplicitous pirate congressional? Maybe a rouge platoon of Game Wardens, with a perverted sense of virtue and an over zealous hunger for unprovocated vigilante ‘justice’, but no, this was too random, too sparsely remote for some kind of tribal vendetta. This was one of the few worse thing’s than an actual encounter with Game Wardens, only eclipsed by the unknown hungers of the mutant jungle itself, an actual Flame Warden, which would be disgusted by the idea of stealth and anything other than a full force assault on a priority target, or the stray foot of a rampaging titan suit, who jurisdictions were enforced with indiscriminate unequivocal lethality. As it was the absolute mandate protocol of the Federal Consortium “to keep the war away from our soil.” a reasonable sentiment for an edict perhaps, as any sensible government would prefer not wage it’s wars within it’s jurisdiction. But even the most sound policy , without a dense inclusion statement for exceptions and and satisfactions clearly defined, could be misconstrued by a single warped depraved mind into weapon to bludgeon those it was intended to serve. Such was the sore reminder to survivors of the Texas Exodus Massacre, it was easier to sacrifice a territory, it’s people, or “A plot of soil.” the official government statement claimed: “was not worth the human and resource causalities prolonged engagement would incur to contest.” Which was to the few common sense folk who attempted to maintain a ration of their sensibilities, a clever way to word the absolutely volatile ass kicking The Federal Consortium had received from the combined forces of it’s lurking predator nation assemblies. Despite these “minuscule setbacks” The Federal Consortium had it’s own array of technologically superior secret weapons, that although were unrefined, were on the precipice of incredible potency, practically beckoning for demonstrated field study. One of these new age tools, employed as much for domestic coercion as foreign espionage, was the Chastine Regiment, founded on the principal: “The invisible blade is the hardest to dodge. ”. One of the most remarkably elite operating organizations in the federal military, That was used for more discrete handling of matters. And they were good at they were good at their job, too good, better than anyone should possibly aspire to be at such grim tasks. They were so covert, barley a whisper of there existence trickled through the minds of anyone in the civilian population. Their sworn oath of secrecy and duty was “Never leave witnesses.”
“Seems someone’s wandered off course a little to far from their nest.” said the voice over the communication channel that that was muffled by the respiration of his suit.
“From the downed ship?” another voice questioned.
“I'm assuming! No wildlife would be big, dumb, and magnetic enough to get itself caught in the spider mines… I hope.” Said the initial voice, leaving some hesitancy in his affirmations, due to his unfamiliarity what whatever else could possibly inhabit the labyrinth of trees.
“It’s highly unlikely they have the artifact were looking for.” A third voice chimed in, with the same respirator muffled howl.
“Yes, less than unlikely, but what we need is information, pawns on the board, perhaps a tour guide. We could, easily infiltrate their ship, but even being close to gods in our advanced armor with the advantage of stealth, we would likely incur casualties. An I’ve never been one to blink at the idea of of sacrificing anyone for the good of the mission, if needed. But, unnecessary loss of assets such as yourselves are difficult to seamlessly replace, so don’t get killed. That pirate ship is like swarm of hissing cockroaches, you smash one two more sprout from their corpse. This will require a more delicate precision. We inject ourselves in like a needle and extract. We are close to gods but sometimes close isn’t good enough…” Said the one who was clearly the leader, briefing the rest of the members to the protocol.
“Retrieve the divine artifact! Receive the blessings of the Stationary Analogues! heheWhahahaha!” Said another man in the regiment on the comm system with squealing gargle of a frothing hyena, who may as well have been the second in command, based on the chime of laughter that followed his statement on the comm system.
Back at the Meanace of Greif:
Geoffrey began Getting the hang of the blaze saw along with his new accomplice. With the sizzling grind of sparks being ejected with every cut his precision became more acute, taking more care not to burn a slash mark in the industrial size rim as he finished slicing through another of the anaconda size chains. The red coats, now all half stained with mud from their decent into it, all gathered about 10 yards away from them where the second major wheel had been obliterated by the mine impact. Geoffrey continued to cut glancing over at the engineer posse who seemed to be “negotiating” the diagnosis of the damaged machinery, that a consensus plan of action had not been reached. He occasionally glanced over toward Edrith who stood next to Koff, a a couple feet behind the other quarreling engineers who were deeply investigating the damage. She seemed to be disassociating from their debate, more interested in analyzing the mechanics of the ecosystem around them and Geoffrey. Koff, who was bathed up to his belt in mud, sat snarling while ingesting his cigarette, waiting to tell the engineer who won the debate why their assessment was wrong . Geoffrey slowly became hypnotized by the steady hum of the blaze saw slowly cooking through the heat resistant chains. Occasionally taking time to glance up toward Edrith, who’s prominent features could still be distinguished through the haze with blur of an impressionist painting. He caught her looking toward him for a few seconds, and quickly swooped his head back toward his work, as if he was unintentionally distracted. But maybe he wanted to be distracted. As if on a timer, almost a minute later his head roamed back up glancing back toward her. She was looking in his direction pretending not to look directly at him. But accidents don’t happen twice, this time she gave in, locking her eyes on him not caring if he saw or not. Geoffrey let himself stare back making no attempt to turn away this time now both knowingly staring at each other. Geoffrey briefly released a hand form his cutting tool, just enough to give her soft wave with his hand. She echoed back the same spell casting wave he had given her, with what looked like a smile on her face but he couldn’t quit tell with the haze and condensation droplets on his visor.
“You must be strong for what is to come. Your cards have been dealt. You must play them to be your greatest self. I cannot interviene.” The voice was back inside Geoffrey’s mind, uninvited.
“What cruel cloak has allowed this demon access to my mind?” Geoffrey wondered as his face tightened, not know if his own thoughts were secure clenching his teeth as is he had somehow let his guard slip enough, to have allowed the breach in his mind. “Stay the hell out of my mind!” he blasted his sentiment through his thoughts not knowing if it was a one way call.
The guild of apparition ghouls of the Chastitne Regiment, enclosed on the malfunctioning vehicle now caught in the increasing velocity of the river of sewage. Their otherwise untarnishable boots deftly crackled through the splinters of orange pine needles and cartilage of leaves. They roughly encircled the massive flooded gorge, establishing a rough perimeter. The glued themselves to the black cartilage of the tree bark , with their near invisible armor melting them into seamlessly into the abrasion of wilderness.
“Everyone in position? ” the voice asked with an assertive bravado that sounded certain enough to dry up any leaking spikette of doubt.
“Yes sir!” an entourage chorus of voices acknowledged.
“Designate targets now on your team HUD so we don’t overlap targets, and kill them all by mistake. We’re wolves not sharks, this isn’t a feeding frenzy!”
“You take all the excitement out of things! So tactical, we cant even enjoy the hunt!” Said the man with whining voice of a squealing hyena.
“Your enthusiasm is appreciated, but there’s a reason I’m in charge, I get things done… properly.” Said the commanding voice once again, taking a dig at the other man’s previous history with botched missions that he knew he could not refute. “I’m designating one target as green, He appears to be their leader, leave him alive if you want to be!”
“Understood. Yes sir. Affirmative.” the array of voices sounded off again on the comm system.
“I suppose.” Said the squealing man with his enthusiasm turning to apathy.
“We wait for Zantedeschia, to get in close, then we blast them down!” said the commander.
“I’m gaining altitude for maximum impact damge.” Said a hollow metal voice that could barley identified as female.
Silence prevailed for about a minute or so as the members of the Chastine Regiment focused in on their targets for synchronized assassination. Their fingers clung to the triggers of their rifles. Sweat lubricated their fingers inside of their gloves as they waited in anticipation.
A shrieking howl of metal whistling through the air rang out to everyone for the briefest second, before those closest to the blast could hear nothing.
Zantedeschia flew down from somewhere in the tree canopy, exploding near Chashe and a few others near him, like a stray mortar round. A massive sphere of mud erupted from the impact zone, as those caught in it we splattered into chunky globs of mud coated flesh. The guns trained on the the crew of the Menace of Grief remained silent, as their wielders took in the once in a lifetime chance to whiteness the full powered assault of Scarab Court Guard. The debris cloud settled as mud misted upon Zantedeschia who stood in the center of a crater that she had just created, that was now flooding with gurgling rapids of mud. Her glowing galling aqumarine eyes.
“What the hell was that?!” Geoffrey said from the other side of of the tank, unable see what had caused the blast. “Did one of those idiots on the other side trigger another mine?” he wondered. That’s what he wanted to believe, but his gut told him otherwise. Something was different about this explosion, just slightly off, no sound of sound detonation, or bending metal, and no smoke. “A plasma detonation?” he thought. “Yeah, that seemed a more likely cause.” he concluded as the drizzle of mud mist glazed everyone in sight with brown droplets. Everyone in he could see looked spooked, and confused. Edrith ratcheted her eyes to the side locking on to Geoffrey and his accomplice looking for signs of reassurance. Judging by their upright stance, they were just as confused as she was, they had completely stopped working on the chains. Whatever expression Geoffrey had tried to decipher on her face earlier was now most certainly fear. Geoffrey slid his finger under the edge of the jaw area of his helmet activating his, activating his voice projection amplifier like a megaphone. “I’ll go check out what’s going on over there!” Said Geoffrey with a resonating boom carrying it hopefully far enough to reach everyone on his side. Just after he had walked a few feet toward them to deliver his message, a squall of wind whipped the mud mist in a frenzy, as if an invisible soundless helicopter was overhead, making it uncertain if they actually received his message. “Fuck it!” he thought to himself, it might not matter if they heard him, or not, he was going to go investigate anyway. He made his way around the half submerged front of the tank, that made the swamp a waist deep sinkhole that he marched through plunging his feet one at a time in farting adhesive ground below the water. The drizzle of mud was now full pellets of rain splashing on the surface of water around him. “Whatever the hell that is is no fucking good!” He said discard his blaze saw carelessly into the goop, before raising his forearm while tilting his fist downward. An initiating cycle for preparing a vulgar blast of burst plasma from his wrist vulcan. Whatever was in front of him was not normal, as he had seen a lot of not normal shit in his life already so far, but this was top tier not normal. A cyclone of mud flushed a spiral of waves into the air like a giant brown geyser or some enormous sea monster erupting from within the earth. Just as he was about to move in closer for a guaranteed shot, and visual confirmation on the target within the eruption, a man flopped into the mud in front of Geoffrey splashing him, and his helmet, completely blinding his already impaired visor with more mud. The man erupted back up from the mud again after being briefly submersed.
“Gahhhhh faaaaaaaaawwwwwk! Ahhhhhhhggggggg! Please… you have to kill it!” said the man with a crazed roar to Geoffrey.
Geoffrey recognized him immediately but was surprised to see him, in his current state. It was the bear sized man, or whatever was left of him. One of his arms and a large part of his torso was missing, oozing a river of blood that dyed a pool on the surface of the mud a near-black crimson color.
The man lifted himself as he attempted to utter his final words with a grasp of dignity. Geoffrey could see the man’s organs squirming away from him with every frantic breath he took, he couldn’t even process what the man was saying he was so startled by the wounds of the man whos shouldn’t even be alive before him, “certainly he had to be zombie.” were the only words that could occupy his mind at the moment. The bear man slowly slumped back into the mud face down as the droplets pelted him, and his breaths became slower, more shallow , and less frequent. Geoffrey knew he couldn’t waste time trying to process what had just happened. He sharpened his eyebrows downward, as he lined up his shot again. “Gotcha Bitch!” He said with his voice amplifier still on. He fired a large volley from his unsafely overcharged wrist vulcan aiming for center mass of the cyclonic rift. The blast was a chain of exploding globs of green elcetro-plasma with such rapid succession it was almost nearly a constant stream of death, which was actually a safety feature more than a limit of the weapon itself, to prevent an overcharged beam from chain reacting a blast back into the user’s suit. The caustic acid discharge tore a tunnel through geyser of swamp water giving him a glimpse of his target as his volley of shots cleanly connected with their intended target. A plume of green flames rolled into the air following the explosive impact of each shot, the type of flames that could ignite metal as if it was a piece of lumber. The entity, the being, the monster that had descended upon them clearly wasn’t expecting to be hit with that much fire power, nor was he expecting to have to use such for to still ambiguous success. His entire right arm was now spewing a dense gray steam of mist only sightly darker than the mist of the swamp itself, just much more dense and opaque. He felt the heat of the charging which he knew was bad, he shouldn’t feel anything is such an advanced suit. Sure enough, once enough smoke had cleared and he could see his arm again the firing mechanism that was built into his suit was now a welded cluster of metal that could no longer retract locking his right wrist into an uncomfortable position. Something he could live with he told himself, but now he was down one gun. “Are there more of these things?” he thought trying to refocus himself over the screech of the alarm on the charge monitor attached to his vulcan, that was flashing with a red bar icon that said “charge level critical” the only part of the vulcan that unfortunately actually survived the liquefying heat. “ Whatever it was, it had to be dead.” he thought, but the idea of a second one, or whatever he just shot surviving haunted the back of his mind. “Imposible.” he rationalized, as the eruption of water ceased to flow into the sky. The drizzle of mud began to dissipate into more manageable depletes he could contend with. The crater before him now flooded with the invisible force holding it back now disabled, causing whirlpool to form in the river of sludge between him and his opponent. The green flames burned the armor of the scarab court guard, melted craters dripped with metal ooze from the impact zones on the armor. The stilted obelisk of a woman sat bent in half with her back logged into a newly created dent into the bark of a tree. “Was it not enough?!” Geoffrey wondered not liking what he saw, no clean puncture, that is what he was hoping to see or some half mutilated corpse. The machine? The creature was somehow still in once piece, after a blast that could cook through most ships, unless it somehow had a portable shield generator, or an invisible brick wall made of so much kevlar he couldn’t actually do the math on the amount it would have taken to stop a blast like that. He didn’t like either option.
“We’ll looks like our scarb court is a dud gentlemen! What a waste of time an engineering only to fail to man in suit, they should have just left this to us, not baby sitting their experiment. Get your guns ready, we’re going in when she dies.” said the commander of the Chastine Regiment, who was hoping for more of a spectacle, while making sure to toggle his broadcast feed to Zantedeschia off.
The cerulean eyes within the helmet re-illuminated, the green flames waned as they combated the haze of moisture in the air. “I am Zantedeschia ,’The willow scythe’ and you are my prey.” she announced with her own vocal enhancement echoing over the roaring gurgle of the mud streams.
“Shit.” Said Geoffrey realizing he was now veritably in over his head.
Zantedeschia coiled into a squat position and launched herself like a portable aircraft. Her column cylinder of swords flipped down and attached almost as soon as she had launched herself. Even Geoffrey’s lightning reflexes were not fast enough to dodge her now, especially in the mud, and even his supernatural premonition couldn’t such an inhuman counter attack. Her 5 claw swords connected with Geoffrey as she flew past him. He could not not dodge it but he did manage to block the blades with his right arm, temporarily, he could not afford to sacrifice his only functioning gun. He did actually slow her down when she impacted him, but not enough. A blue jet of energy blazing from somewhere in her lower back continued to propel her forward, slicing through Geoffrey’s arm in three different places before swatting him backwards into the mud as she continued to swoop past him. He was alive. That was what he kept trying to tell himself trying to snap himself out of shock as he sank into the mud, but he wanted to stay there. He had never been so swiftly and decisively defeated, so quickly, it was the most helpless he had ever truly felt, and the most pain. Zantedeschia stopped and rose to an upright position after landing in an explosion of mud. “Who’s next?” she said in her barley feminine machine voice scowling toward the batch of engineers with the murder hungry glow of her cerulean eyes.
“Witch!” Edrith yelled firing off a blue bolt of plasma, that was unfortunately stopped just short of Zantedeschia’s helmet. She had somehow managed to stop the beam within inches of her hand blocking her head, collecting the laser into a sphere of angry energy.
“I may as well be.” Said Zantedeschia humoring her outburst. Edrith and the other nearby engineers fired of several rounds of the same blue energy, to see if their foe could catch all of the blasts or perhaps reveal some sort of exploitable weakness. But to no avail all of the blasts stopped just short of impact and collected into spheres. Zantedeschia scooped the spheres together like merging giant droplets of water into one bowling ball sized orb of lethality. She hammered the ball of energy now hovering above her palm with a back handed fist sending it flying toward the squad of engineers. The ball of energy seem to be unphased as it separated Edrith and her leg from the the thigh downward, until it detonated on the ground behind her. Just as she fired of her attack, the man who had been helping Geoffrey jumped out from from the wheel well he had been hiding in.
“RAHHHH!” The wet vermin man yelled as he skewered Zantedeschia through the thigh with his blaze saw. She let out a metallic howl of agony.
“You filthy maggot!” she managed to work into her vocabulary amidst her screaming, before swatting him to hell, with her sword ridden arm.
“The Scarab has received damage!” on of the members of the chastine regiment who was on the other side of the river belted over the comm system.
“Good, that give us more leverage in the situation, should she disobey orders. But I’ve had enough entertainment for today. Open fire!” Said the commander.
A flurry of scarlet orange beams containing pure bolts of yellow lightning scorched across the divide, and effortlessly skewered through the Menace of Grief itself, burning anything they hit into a plume of orange smoke.
“Try to leave one alive!” he tried to remind them over the shriek of gunfire. A steady minute of shooting was all it took kill almost every member of the crew, except for 2, and pollute the air with an unnatural orange fog that smelled and taste like rust mixed with blood.
“You ruined a good hunt!” Zantedeschia said with a stain of aggravation in her enunciation.
“An acceptable concession. We’re hunting an artifact, not pirates.” said the commander keeping her monstrous drive for carnage in check. “Go in. check the corpses! Look for the one in the suit, he might still be alive.” he added.
Geoffrey felt himself sinking, falling into a stupor, almost nodding off. He part of him wanted to, just go asleep right there forever. He had failed. But for some reason he hung on. Why? The thoughts polluted his mind, maybe he just wanted answers, closure, or to find out how the story ends. They would inevitably come looking for him, just for his suit.
“I’m sorry I can’t save everyone, please forgive me. It would interfere with your potential destiny.“ The voice once again came back into Geoffrey’s mind, which almost resurrected him with anger. Was nothing too sacred to be defiled? Not even his mind. The thought burrowed deep with in him.
“Leave me alone demon! Or whatever the hell you are, let me die in peace!” Geoffrey blasted his thoughts not even sure if he wanted a response, his amber eyes now jolted awake by spite.
The cerulean eyes of the Scarab Court Guard carved through scarlet mist. She took off her helmet to savor the fumes of the carnage, one of her few fleeting human pleasure she still took joy in. The smell of death somehow made her feel more alive. Her chiseled sleek jaw made her look like the woman of authority she was. A tourniquet of purple and black braids were coiled into a nest, like a hive of Medusa's hydras that were usually incarcerated by her helmet. Scarab Court Guard were not permitted to show their face’s to an adversary under any circumstances, but the rules were her’s to break with no one remotely powerful enough to enforce them on standby. She had a column of three scars running vertically up from the bottom of her jaw witch clearly had removes some of her cartilage, disfiguring her jaw on one one side. The scars reached up half her face with the highest one reaching one of her eyebrows which was the same bright purple color as her braids, sitting next to her gold ring eyebrow piercing. But her most prominent unaltered birth feature was her nose, which was barely not too large and carried an additional gold ring septum piercing over her subtle lips, making her look like a roman gladiator, or Ryan Gosling’s estranged sister. The deep sea almost-black Irises of her eyes were sheltered by a vibrant rings of violet stands that looked like lightning, perhaps a shade more toward neon pink than her hair. She skulked through the fog taking in the elements of the recently deceased, perhaps siphoning some tranquility from it. “A man?! out here?” She thought. Had she become so sheltered by her helmet that couldn’t distinguish reality anymore? “No!” Her beyond standard senses had never failed her before. Unless this was some new anomaly A ghost, the undead. She half humored the idea. She drew closer to the figure of a man floating before her in the mist. Nearly iridescently pale man just floating before her with his arms stretched wide as he slowly descended closer to, but still several feet above the ground. He appeared to be in meditation of some-sort. She considered, as if he had not seen the carnage that just took place, or was indifferent to it.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Man! Identify yourself. If you wish to offer your body to me, it will not save you. But perhaps I could grant you pleasure as your last wish.” Said Zantedeschia seemingly amused by the naked man with a long torrent of gold hair somehow floating before her.
“To you, I am death. I am your sweet release, you will not be mine.” Said Gyze Waque. Her facial expression switched from amusement, to serious contempt, to hide the fear even from herself, an alien feeling she thought she was no longer capable of having. Gyze held out his palm as if inviting her to join him. He slowly closed his palm into a fist as a wind swept in from behind her, causing her to rapidly decay into a skeletal ghoul.
“Sir, Um I think I see a new target.” Said one of the soldiers from across the gorge.
“ What do you mean ‘You think’?” the commander grilled ,not liking such a vague Intel. “Are you picking up something or not? Is it hostile?”
“We’ll I’m picking something. It just doesn’t seem right. Maybe the targeting system is malfunctioning because of all of the disintegration emissions?” The soldier responded.
“Absolutely negative! The targeting system in your suit is top of the line. It does not malfunction!” Shouted The commander, indirectly demanding more information.
“Well, I’m getting a reading on a target laying in the mud with low vitals who seems to be clinging to life. But I’m also getting a reading of what looks like a man, just floating above the river on our side of the vehicle. But his vitals look crazy. Like my scanner is going haywire. Like his vitals are a scrambled ball of static, or an infrared lighting storm.” the soldier reported.
“That’s the craziest thing I've ever heard, especially from you! Maybe your brain is what’s malfunctioning! If you’re bullshitting me I’ll kill you myself.” the commander growled.
“No sir! Copy that, I see it too!” A second soldier from the other side of the trench reported.
“What?!” said the commandeer with a suddenly sundered confidence in his tone.
“Sir! Zantedechia’s vitals have gone dark!” the original reporting soldier chimed in again.
“What?! do you mean GONE DARK?!” the commander said with more imperative roar.
“I don’t know, she might be dead. Or she just dissapeared somehow.” the soldier hesitantly reported.
The commander flicked through a touch screen built into glossy armor of his suit, opening a few interface menus until he got the vital readouts built into the comm link system, that did indeed indicate that her vital readings were that of a ‘deceased’ person. “Un-fucking-belivable, I have to babysit these government prototype weapons, and then it goes and gets itself killed on my watch?!” He said while briefly turning off the comm system to voice his aggravation to himself. “Move in! Kill any threat on sight!” He said, switching his comm back to it active position. The ghost like shells of the regiment unhinged themselves from their nearby cover, as their glass-like outlines prowled toward the rift of mud. “Make sure you have the target surrounded beore you open fire! We don’t want any loose ends!” The commander added trying to convince himself that if Zantedeschia really was dead, it was from her own inbred stupidity. A whirlpool of mud widened as Gyze drew closer to the bare gelatinous swamp belly below him.
“I could kill them all effortlessly, but why not have some fun while I’m in the neighborhood.” thought Gyze as the whirlpool around him stopped as he sank into a wave of enveloping swamp water. Gyze now became completely submerged below the brow broth of sludge. The members of the Chastine Regiment drew in closer, seemingly invisible until the holes in the water gave away where their legs were with every step. Their camouflage systems struggled to accurately match the dense blanket metallic clouds that stagnated over the river of grime. Their scanners were of no use once they entered the dense gas cloud.
The commander and one other waited along a thin strip muck that could be mistaken for shore line below the ridge of trees they nearly stumbled down from. They were keeping watch to make sure no brazen survivor ‘accidentally’ made it out of the haze cloud. A certified method of operation foreclosure, no loose ends. A tried and tested method for even the 1/1000 chance someone was able to pull one over on their unit. The members traveled in pairs, with all of them visibly paranoid, with their their heads constantly scanning, around above and behind them, for the slightest sight of movement. Gyze erupted from the mud in between two members, grabbing them both by their helmets, as if his hand were made of magma. He boiled the top half of their bodies into unrecognizable entrails. The lower half of their bodies proceeded to float to the surface and be dragged along by the river. Gyze sank back into the current of the bayou.
“2” Gyze counted making sure his work was through. 2 squads of 2 had converged into a squad of four near the front of the Menace of Grief where Geoffrey had gone down. Gyze assimilated himself into a giant mud golem about 3 times the size of his standard water body form, turning the arms into giant serpents, swallowing 3 of them in one gulp, digesting them into a malignant curry of pulp. The remaining regiment member splashed himself out of the way just in time, but smothered himself in mud, partially blinding him and compromising his camouflage. Now a brown glob silhouette of the man’s armor replaced the sharp glass shimmer of his stealth system. But the second serpent arm had already slithered around behind him in a preemptive countermeasure to ensnare their fleeing prey.
“5, and 6” Gyze added to the total, before sinking back down into dome of mud. 4 more members were loosely aligned along the other side of the vehicle, one stood closest to the front with his rifle shoulder locked toward the rolling wave of mud flushing toward him, his finger ready to strangle the trigger. He partner stood a few feet away, with with his half length rifle ready unleash a spray of hell from his abdomen, in case something tried to flank his partner. The second duo was about 30 feet away, but the orange soot made their silhouettes seem like black wispy apparitions to the other team. The two farthest from the front locked in on the blur shades that were most likely their comrades, and walked toward them with both of their rifles upright, ready to deploy on the tick of a clock. The member furthest from the front abruptly stopped following his partner, and locked himself in frigid upright position as the barrel of his flopped down carelessly into the mud. Inside of the of man’s suit his tan skin began to glow bright red as sweat profusely rolled off his face. His eyes had become infested with blood vessels as his pupils contracted in black dots. He was nearly drooling a puddle in his helmet as his jaw hung open to bathe his neck. He then closed his jaw as his slightly yellow teeth clenched together in resistance, unlit finally giving in and becoming an abominable vile smile. Gyze was in control now. The possessed man raised his gun up gripping it halfway in the middle like a wizard staff, and carelessly pointed it toward his partner’s back. He fired off three rounds in succession all with very clunky marksmanship. Two of the blasts danced right past his partner, with third giving the man a lethal nipple piercing as an exit wound.
“7” Gyze counted. The two members toward the front the tank, snapped in the opposite direction, as the screech of shots cried. Two of the beams flew safely past them them the the third coming uncomfortably close as it hit the water in front them sending a wisp of gas in the air as it entered, followed by a prolonged series of gurgling bubbles.
“What the hell was that?!” the soldier tilted his helmet and belted toward his teammate.
“They’re dead!” Said the second soldier who was nervously checking his teams vitals on the comm link system.
“What?!” said the first soldier, having not fully processed what his partner even said yet. But before the second soldier could repeat himself the man was torn in gas billowing chunks and limbs, by six lasers that seemed to have been aimed at each limb with two torso shots. The rounds screeched like 500lb bats as the passed through him, until roaring like thunder when half of them crashed into the surface of the mud.
“Eiiiiiight!” the possessed man yelled over the intercom with a heavy winded cackle, as if speaking and breathing were now two competing bodily functions. The last self conscious man fired off several blazing rounds toward his former comrade, who looked like an indistinguishable blur in the smoke. He could tell his shots made contact as the blotch of shade seemed to wither grow smaller as the shots connected where the mans limbs should be. “Aggghhhhhhhhhhhhh.” The man’s form comrade screamed into the communication system. He sent two more rounds at him to make sure he would die a peaceful death.
“What the fuck is going on in there?!” the commander demanded to know. “Byron you’re the only one left in there according to the vital signs, everyone else is dead?!” The commander added trying to confirm his own statement.
“Maybe. I don’t know! I’m pulling out to regroup.” said the man with heavy breaths, already frantically splashing through the mud.
“Affirmative me an Gel-gaus will provide overwach when you’re in range!” The commander said followed by a meaty growl, as he and his partner shoulder mounted their rifles waiting for something to emerge from the wall of rust composite clouds.
“9, 10” Gyze counted.
The two men stood waiting, and waiting, for far too long, on the black shore of mud. Maybe on minute had gone by, maybe two, but it seemed like 5. Both of them hoisted up their guns aggressively toward the smoke. Too anxious to check if their, remaining member in the smoke was actually dead, but if everyone else was, he probably was too. Another minute went by Gel-Gaus’s arms began to shake with an unsettling amount of adrenaline flowing though him.
“Maybe something in the river go them?!” Gel questioned the commander relaxing his rifle to his waist.
“Sure fucking seems like it!” he answered with enough disgust for the failure of him and his squad, as he too begrudgingly lowered his gun. “This mission is fucked lets go back while there are still some of us who can. I’m sure a dead scarab court guard will be enough evidence of ‘Unforeseen circumstances’. Nothing wrong with surviving.” Just as the two had turned their back, the orange clouds began to roll towards them, enclosing on their thin strip of bullshit below the cliff. Gel-Gaus had started up the root ridden wall of dirt. But the commander remained standing there. At first he did not want to move, he wanted to just stare into the abyss, sulk in his defeat to some unknown force. A feeling he now shared with Geoffrey. But once he had tried to move with great amount of force. He realized he could not move his feet, they were glued to the ground, No worse! They felt magnetized. He once again tried to lift his knee up and out again, but this time to less success. He had given his best effort on his first try. He said nothing to his partner as the gap between them widened as he reached the top of the ledge. A pale slender arm arose from the dirt in front of him like a zombie clawing it’s way out of hell, except very unusual. The arm was muscular and ridiculously vascular, and young, with no detectable blemishes, not even a damn freckle. The arm flailed around in different directions, before finally getting a grasp of the man’s ankle, which was barley in reach from it’s emergence point.
“Gotcha!” Gyze said inside of the commander’s mind. The commanders eyes widened in fear and confusion as he realized he had just lost some very high stakes game of tag. Once the orange fog had finished swallowing him and the shore, he was pulled down into the dirt as if a trap door had opened below him. One got away that was fine with Gyze, he wasn’t in the business of chasing down the defenseless. “Guess we’ll see how our friend is doing.” Said Gyze as he emerged from the dirt bathed in mud.
“I guess you’re unconsious.” he said with his pupils rolling back into his head leaving his eyes a blank white color, trying to enter Geoffrey’s mind. Gyze floated over the river where Geoffrey had submitted to the current of mud. He levitated Geoffrey’s body above the surface of the water as mud drained from the plates of armor on his suit. “Guess the reaper’s gonna have to wait to add you to his collection, you’re much to interesting to go to waste.” He said seeing the world through world through his dark vision, as and orange flash shot around the gold ring in his eyes turning them a shade more red than the orange smoke. In “the realm of fate” as he called it , even he didn’t know what the power truly was, only ways to use it. Around the world itself became black breach of darkness cloaking every surface black drinking almost all of it’s colors, except the occasional glimmer of the the objects true texture and colors. It was as if he could see into an alternate reality, or some bizarre simulation, but he wasn’t sure if the glitches were, limitations of the realm itself he was seeing into or physical limitations of still mutated human eyes. But these limitations seemed a more frequent intrusive occurrence so he assumed the latter. Had he used them too much?
But what he could see, that he couldn’t normally with his standard vision was people’s potential possibilities, their aura. He flung of Geoffrey's helmet with his mind. Geoffrey’s armor in the dark realm was a black silhouette in an abyss of more black, But his face seemed more warm and flushed with color, than his near lifeless body did in the actual physical realm. Gyze had seen it rarely in other before, In Greis Keiz, others of his kind, and other pirate lords, the aura of fierce deity. Someone with a magnitude of fates, usually an indication of someone’s life span. But his was unreasonably bright, dangerous, but alluring. In this realm Geoffrey's body was burning but not being consumed by a bright prismatic preadolescent white flame. He had caught glimpse of it before on the ship as it seemed to be growing by the day. It was blinding, intimidating, and mathematically speaking, perhaps impossible. A man who could live forever if left unchecked? Maybe not forever but definitely 1000 years! What Gyze's true superpower , beyond his deadliness in combat, was his “Clairvoyance” his ability to see potential future of those in close proximity. It was a more systematic process than he liked, he felt like a computer trying to brute force his way through someone’s paths of fate, usually staring from their longest achievable lifespan path, working his way through to the shortest or until he found something extraordinary. When he looked into Geoffrey’s future, he saw something he alone didn’t have access to, the deep distant future. He kept running through scenarios, but all of them were the same dark twisted future where the world had never truly healed, maybe they have rebuilt, but the world he saw was foreboding , cruel, dire. “Is there any Hope for a better future?!” He trembled at the thought of the actual answer being “No” It was the first time Gyze had felt fear , real fear, sadness in ages. He thought he could keep doing good making the world better one life at a time. Was hope he sold himself all a lie? “No there has to be somewhere where I can change it!” He probed deeper into the depths of Geoffrey’s futures, on path at a time. Until he found one. One that looked promising, uncertain but better than the hell offered by this other visions he had seen.
“You must become this person. And ill see to it that you do!” Gyze held his hand with his palm facing toward Geoffrey with his fingers spread wide. “I’M SORRY MY FRIEND, BUT YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO DIE! AWAKEN GEOFFREY!” Gyze shouted channeling his loudest yell. Enough to shock Geoffrey back from hell. As he shouted a gust of wind expelled from his body, carrying a gout of flame toward Geoffrey. The same prismatic pearlescent flame that he could see glow within other people. As the flame made contact with Geoffrey several more jet streams of flame shot out of each one of Gyze’s fingers like missiles carrying additional payloads of the otherworldly flame. Geoffrey gasped as the air came back into his lungs, and life was restored to his eyes. But his eye’s were no longer his, no more a bronze honey gold color, now the same sickly pale lunar yellow color rings that inhabited Gyze’s eyes were there.
“Aggggggggggghhhhhh!” Geoffrey screamed as consciousness flooded back into him as hit with defibrillator paddles. “Where the fuck am I?!” Geoffrey yelled, not see the world as it was but seeing it for the first time with new eyes, in the dark realm of fate. He was convinced he was actually still dead in some sort of purgatory. Gyze abruptly canceled channeling his flame and fell out of the air splashing into the mud. Geoffrey fell and plunged into the mud also. “You!” Geoffrey thought, remembering the voice that had taken up residence inside of his mind.
“Yes, It’s me.” Geoffrey pulled himself out of the mud with sudden burst of anger, he didn’t like uninvited guests, especially not wandering around in his mind. But when he rose from the mud, he blinked a few times, he couldn’t believe his eyes, he saw before him the normal world the way it was.
“Impossible I was dead!” He said as his face went from angry, to confused, to nervous. “Is this some kind of reoccurring nightmare?” still convinced this might be some form of purgatory, or hell, like a Bill Murray in Groundhog Day, one of the still popular movies that had managed to survive the apocalypse.
“You ‘were’ dead, but not irreconcilably so. Your body was still in tact, so I drew the life back into it using a chunk of my own. Not an easy task!”
“And what gives me the right to be alive?! If I was dead, then maybe I deserved to die. What right do you have to go around choosing who lives or dies?! Can’t even let a man rest in peace? First you walk in on all my thoughts now you’re digging me up out of the graveyard?! Who the fuck do you think you are some sort of god?!” Geoffrey’s ring eyes looked like they could burn charge a beam and burn a hole right through Gyze.
“Maybe you did ‘deserve’ to die. But the world needed you more than I will ever know. That is why I brought you back, not because I wanted to, or because I even like you. Humans die all the time, what’s one more! But you are someone with vast potential for good. And maybe I am, Maybe I’m not, a god, but I’m something close, close enough that I might as well be to normal human. I don’t even know why I care about the fate of humans, I shouldn’t , but what’s a better reason to do good other than just because you can?”
“So what am I now?! Some undead goul you can use to do your bidding?” Geoffrey asked begrudgingly, he didn’t want to listen to the man, even if he was the captain, but he knew he needed answers.
“No, you’re still very much you. Stronger, altered, but still you. Uggggh normal humans are so quick to label things! Undead is such a loaded term. I would liken it more to a ‘Metamorphosis’ with your old body being the cocoon. And Actually the opposite, it’s your free will is what makes you destine for this power. And if my subjugation was something you’re apprehensive of you’re far less susceptible in this state to gain dominion over.” Said Gyze is allowed in his soft wispy raspy voice while also projecting it into Geoffrey’s mind more clearly.
“So who’s still alive? Can you bring everyone else back too?” Geoffrey puzzled, glaring toward Gyze.
“Almost everyone. Is dead or dying. I could, potentially, maybe save 3-4 more people depending on if I wanted to sacrifice myself as well, which I’d rather not. It cost me 200 years of life energy just to bring you back. A hefty fee to pay for the cost of just one person.” Said Gyze now holding his hand he had been channeling the fire with in front of his face. His pale skin was now a dusty charcoal black color, his translucent skin was now revealing his veins to be glowing green shimmering streams of what should be blood. He wiggled his black fingers in front o his face beguiled by their alteration as his initial pale white color slowly crept back up to his arm returning to his hand. “In fact you’re the first person I've ever brought back! Before it was just a theoretical process I thought might be possible ,until is saw myself preform it on you in my clairvoyant delving.”
“What do you mean “Almost everyone?!” Geoffrey tried to listen and absorb what the man who could undo death was saying, but a lot of it was lost on him he couldn’t make sense of the all the abstract concepts being thrown at him all at once. Maybe in a classroom with some demonstration video he might stand a chance, but out here after such a crushing defeat he could only focus on his own failures and the consequences.
“Yes ‘Almost’ Everyone. I do believe Edrith is still alive right now if you wish to say you’re goodbyes. To be honest, you two would have made a charming couple, with a beautiful life in another timeline.”
“WHAT?!” Geoffrey yelled in a shout that was not entirely his own normal voice, as if had cut rift through time itself, as if a more machine version of himself was screaming from the future also. He wanted to be mad, He wanted to punch Gyze, for being so careless, so pompous, so condescending, for making his endeavors seem so trivial. But he wanted to save Edrith more, if he still could.
“Where is she?!” He demanded.
“Right where you left her, mostly, near where you saw her last.”
“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeedriiiiiiiiiiiith!” Geoffrey Roared frantically splashing as he made his way back around to the other side of the tank. A flare in the wind threw a squall of muddy mist into Geoffrey’s face as the severity of the orange smoke dissipated. He could see what looked like her face laying up, with her chest in a recession of swamp water. He slowed as he approached her body half soaked in the blood darkened mud. “You can’t die!” he shouted at her as he knelt toward her. With their faces now less than a foot away. Life crawled back into her face, but not a vivacious healthy human energy, more like a zombie who refused to die without a proper procession. Her eyes rolled toward Geoffrey’s as a gleam in them would seem to say goodbye. Her mouth opened slowly as is she was about to say something, but instead she gasped for her last half breath. Her eyes now seemed to stare strait through him as opposed to at him, as a tear of blood drained from the corner of her mouth. “Bring her back!” He yelled to himself knowing Gyze would be eve’s dropping. Gyze appeared before him as if materializing through a wisp of smoke, as if he had teleported or slipped through time.
“I can’t. The timeline where she lives has passed. And even if I could it would mean ruin for great multitudes, perhaps not forever, but at least as far as I can see.” Gyze spoke to him softly in his plain voice, this time not invading his mind.
“Her time has passed? You mean you COULD have saved her?! Why the hell am I alive?! you should have saved her not me!”
“The world needs you. Apparently more than anything I alone can influence, but at the same time, I can’t see my own fate, a cruel twist of irony if you ask me. And now that you’re like me, I can no longer see yours either, but I did see it prior, assuming nothing has changed or will. But it seems we are all pawns in this universe's cosmic game, and it seems to have an interesting sense of humor.”
“That’s it then just make me a zombie then send me off on my way?! what kind of half-baked bullshit is this?!”
“If only I truly knew. All I know is that these powers aren’t human, they’re not even mine alone. They’re celestial, extratrestrial. When I was a young mortal man. Around the time when the moon was jousted through by the ‘Shrapnel Star’ fiery debris rained from the skies for several days. Meteors crashed down indescrimantly claiming many casualties. But thos that didn’t die were blessed. One day a meteor came down in front of me, the explosion shot a hot blazing green crystal through my chest. I should have died, like you, I was dead! But I did not stay that way. I woke up, maybe week later , maybe several weeks later. My wound had heal around the crystal in my chest. And slowly the crystal grew smaller and smaller, with the wound it occupied it had completely become one with me. Making me whatever the hell I am today.”
“Is this your idea of a sick joke?!” Geoffrey quarreled.
“No this was all for keen observation, I didn’t plan any of this, I just let history play it’s hand, most of the time. But for some reason blessings come with curses, and for whatever reason history has chosen you to do it’s bidding. So I couldn’t let you wallow in your failure and just lay there and die , you’re far too important! So, forgive me or don’t, I don’t really care, I know I did the right thing and I can live with that.” Gyze rebuked. Geoffrey just stared back, at first with anger, then, gradually, his face loosened into disbelief.
“what was that thing?! that was no normal warrior, that was a demon! Why was it here in the middle of nowhere?”
“Probably what I have, or what I am, to uncover the secrets of the ‘Celestial Essence’. Even a little can render someone nearly immortal, or close enough to put an end to this war once and for all. I don’t blame them for that, but their means of execution have been primitive flawed and grotesque in may aspects. They started these wars, and can’t even come to a decisive conclusion. That is why it is our specific faction of piracy’s covenant, to become that conclusion to war, once and for all and usher in a new age of tranquility. We three ship captains harbor a secret union of loyalty called ‘The Triarch Communion of the Ruined Moon.’”
“So you’re telling me we’re some crazy zealot organization, here to bring in another age of the apocalypse?! That’s great! Just what the world needs! Another organization trying to sick a fork in the beef! You’re all crazy, I joined this organization to stop the rampage of government organizations, not become something worse that takes it’s place! All of you are sick! Completley mad!”
“You have valid points that I can’t entirely refute, however what I do have is incredible power, power maybe even to decide the fates of nations, power to some extent over death. And what am I to do with my power just watch the world bleed it’s people dry over and over again? No! If I get a choice in the matter I might as well fight for something, my vision, my dream, a new world!”
“Well where do I fit in in your ‘vision’?” Geoffrey probed.
“Well my plans it seems, as of today, now to my knowledge, have been botched, completely and irrevocably mascaraed. So I’ve got to re-engineer my plan from scratch.” Gyze said moving his fist up to his mouth in a deep pondering position. “I wanted to save the world from itself, but it seems I can’t do that alone. You are the conduit fate has chosen to give hope a bleeding chance, just as I have been chosen to discover you. I will await you’re return aboard the ship, and enlighten Greis to the latest developments. I knew The Federal Consortium would send agents, but usually it’s just Game Wardens, these were professional assassins. But stopping me will take a lot more than some men and a science project!” He said harboring an unusual gleam in his eye as the stingy light hit the gold ring of his eyes as he looked up and beyond Geoffrey toward the abyss of orange pine needles above that had been muted into a dark brown waves by the condensation of smog. Gyze blasted himself up into the air beyond the veil of the trees, his discussion with Geoffrey was concluded for now, apparently.
