Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1: The Quad-ing Terror

‘A weapon is a device for making your enemy change his mind.’

You know how this goes.

Take what’s given to you and cause a ruckus. Go on ahead, I’m eager to see just what you can think up.

Ciao!

…….

You shittin’ me!

What kind of memo was that?!

You dropped me off in bum knows where when I haven’t even processed my own death, just so that you could watch what I do with a giant four-legged robo builder for shits and giggles.

WHY?!

Oh God in Heaven, I feel like I could cry my eyeballs out. Screw it, I’m gonna cry now.

“Is everything all right, Master?”

“…. No, everything is not alright, Rain,” I replied between sobs.

“If it means anything, the MCV we’re deployed with is not without its resources,” said the woman beside me. “We need only to find the closest Tiberium field if we wish to expand our strike capabilities.”

“Very encouraging words, lady, but you seem to be lacking an important fact,” I raised my head out of my palms to look at the black table in front of me once more. “We seem to be very lacking in the shiny greens within our immediate area, or any information on the vital resource for that matter.”

A hand stretched out from the corner of my vision. It was a pale, almost dainty looking thing if I may say, and it was indicating to a black box that was on the table. The memo from before had been placed on top of the thing.

“Perhaps that would be of help,” they said.

I reached out and grabbed the box, bringing it close for appraisal. I could immediately tell it was a hard disk of some sort, and I figured it wouldn’t take me longer than a nanosecond to figure how to connect it to the- correction, my table with its in-built desktop.

….. That really should’ve sounded cooler.

I sighed. No matter. I had more worries for now.

I turned to look at my ‘companion’. That word was supposed to be meaningful in more ways than one for my current circumstances. For lonely young folks, she was effectively the perfect partner you could ask for. Clearly smart, graceful, had herculean strength and was an absolute beauty with her long waist length hair and hour-glass figure. I’m not ashamed at all of my luck and neither for the fact she was only slightly taller than me.

Rain. I knew where her name came from. I loved her design and, well, the way she was introduced in her story. I just never imagined her copy would stand here in front of me. Although, I wouldn’t be surprised if her looks were the only thing that was inherited.

Now, if only that was the only part of this twisted dreamscape made true. Alas, my companion’s uniform said otherwise. Black with red outline, and a familiar scorpion insignia on the collars and the front of her beret. There was a distinct lack of rank on her uniform, but to be fair, the original source material for the faction also didn’t delve as much into the organisation, or maybe I’m forgetting things.

I licked my lips before standing up. Rain moved two small steps back to make way. I straightened the grey shirt and dusted my black slacks. Rubbing my eyes one last time, I turned to regard the rest of the room; it was a commander’s personal quarters aboard the vehicle.

Same as Rain’s uniform, the room I was in could be best described as plain diabolical. A villain’s lair in all but name. Yet, there remained traces of accessibility within the interior design. My mind could already see the numerous possible access ports hidden in the dark.

Glancing at Rain, I beckoned her to follow. She easily kept in stride with me as we exited the room, and into the hallways that linked the massive structure we were in.

“Do you know what we need to do now Rain?” I asked, not breaking stride.

“We need to build our forces and secure the area around us,” she replied.

“Good answer, but not accurate to what I have in mind.”

“Oh, and what is it that you have in mind, Master?”

“We’ll build a force to safeguard us,” I began explaining as we turned a corner.
“We need Tiberium more importantly. Without it, we’re no different than savages with guns and some fancy tanks. If you’re right, then the data in the hard disk will light our way.”

“Wouldn’t it have been better to plug it into the desktop back in your office?”

I shook my head. “Safety first. I’m not comfortable spending the next few hours sitting in front of my screen without guarantee for my privacy. Army first, life goals second.”

There was an elevator at the far end that led to the control room. I knew this already because I’d awoken up there, with Rain already next to me. I should really ask her to find a seat if she ever felt tired from standing while I lumbered about trying to figure out my circumstances.

The elevator reached the top with a ding. We entered a dark space basked in the illumination of red fluorescent lights above us.

Who was the first to dictate that the evil faction had a red fetish, I wonder.

The space consisted of consoles in a long line in front of us, and two identical tables to our flanks. Monitors lined the walls, some above and others chest high, but like everything else, they were dormant until their master awakened them.

That being, the guy standing in the centre of the room with no clue how to operate said tech. Granted, he wasn’t an illiterate, but he sure as heck wasn’t a regular user.

I turned to look at Rain who was quick to point at the left side of the room. Immediately, I took to sitting at one of the four chairs -two on each half of the room- and began appraising for the power button or its equivalent.

“You need to use the key card in your breast pocket. Also, Nod third generation MCV’s come with specialised activation procedures. It’s a security feature unique to the brotherhood,” Rain spoke. She’d taken the time to sit in the seat adjacent to me on my right and was obviously having a much easier time with the controls.

Tapping the aforementioned pocket, I felt the shape of an object within it that I was certain wasn’t there before. Eyeing my companion didn’t do much to answer why I never noticed it before, hence I focused on resuming the activation process. Inserting the key vertically into its slot to my right, I observed as numerous instruments and displays flared to life. The set up reminded me of a mix between a truck’s dashboard and an airliner’s cockpit. Much of the text was readable, but without context they meant little to me.

Giving each of my hands a good twirl, I proceeded to stretch my fingers and got to work with the activation. Call me sceptical, but I was fairly sure that activating this massive steel beast shouldn’t be as simple as installing Windows. Ah, well, better for me then.

“Master, I’m bringing EVA online.”

“Great, thanks Rain.”

A monitor to my left flickered before being replaced by a startup sequence.

Electronic Video Agent (EVA) Activated

Uplink with Central EVA Server: Lost

Attempting to Reconnect: Failed

Attempting local data recovery: Success

Performing Startup

Initiating bootstrap

…. You’re kidding me.

Alert: Software optimisation module detected. Do you wish to run this extension?

Yes. No doubts.

Running module. Standby.

Execution complete.

Bootstrap complete.

“Welcome to the Electronic Video Agent” a synthetic voice, with a recognisable feminine tone graced my ears.

“Adjusting Sound Output,” the voice announced. A momentary scratching filled my ears as the virtual intelligence adapted itself better to suit its carbon masters.

“Sound Output optimised,” there was a pleasant chime in the air.

“For last minute changes and notes, please examine the readme file,” it declared.

‘Noted’, I thought.

A giddy feeling filled me. Tried as I might- even if I wasn’t there when the game first launched- the aura of history that came from hearing the indescribable chatter that followed after the last announcement was enough to make the hairs on my body stand. I watched with no small amount of glee as the images and transparent models of hundreds of designs and plans faded in and out of the screen, only to reach a crescendo and sudden dip into silence.

“Welcome back Commander.”

“Building constructed.”

The earth outside the ConYard exploded, jettisoning sand and stone outwards. The creaking of metal complimented the groans of machinery moving into place. Metal panels locked together with sparks and clangs. A gaping mouth formed on one end, and a dull, uneven pearl rose above to some six maybe seven meters in the air, held in place by a clawed limb.

I stood a distance away, hand raised to block out the miniature dust storm left. As the clouds cleared, I looked in awe of the small building created. Despite it being nowhere close to its video game counterpart, I was told that it would hold itself well for its- my purposes.

A Hand of Nod. The icon of retaliation against oppressors.

I walked up to the building, admiring its existence all the way. Indeed, it was without a doubt a mockery of the real one, but alas we lacked the data, necessity and, in my opinion, the actual income needed to produce a proper building.

Just let it serve its purpose, it’s all we need of it for now, I reminded myself.

Speaking of which, I moved in to examine the inside and what I found was fascinating. In place of what should an empty space in which models would spawn from, there was now an entire cloning facility. Already, some of the tubes were being filled with liquid for the purpose of creating the first soldiers; my soldiers I reminded myself.

A hand swept along the surface of one of the glass tubes. The tank was already three-fourths filled, and peering at the glass, I observed my reflection within.

It would’ve been hard to miss the fact I was born in a temperate climate considering my darker olive skin. My short hair looked the same for the most part, and my facial hair it seemed was still in the process of growing from my last shave. Intriguingly, I somehow lacked the clear signs of neglected skin care from before.

So, this would be the face that was supposed to take the world by storm, yes? To be honest, knowing the kind of power I could wield given time and proper planning was frightening. Yet did I really have a choice on the matter?

My hand clenched thinking of what had transpired before I woke up in the control room.

I was robbed of death. I was supposed to pass on peacefully, not be a centre stage character in a twisted play. It was wrong! ALL OF IT!

Damn that thing that brought me here. I want nothing to do with its ploys!

Oh, yes suicide could be an option, but that would be blasphemous for me. Hence, that only left with one option.

To play the game, and watch this world suffer for a watcher’s entertainment.

“…. Master!”

A voice snapped at me, and in return I was snapped from my thoughts. I choked on my own breath which elicited a violent cough. Somehow, I managed to regain enough control to touch the communication device in my left ear.

“I’m here,” I heaved. “I’m here.”

“Are you alright? Is something wrong down there?”

“N-No,” I stammered. “It’s fine. You just caught me off-guard. It looks like the construction worked. The interior was just as you told me, and even now the cloning tubes are almost prepped for use.”

“I see,” she let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, I’m not as frail as you may think I am, lady,” I smirked. “However, I’d welcome a woman to carry if they feel like it soothes them.”

“If Master is tired, I’d be happy to help bring you to your quarters,” came the honest reply. Ah, the intricacies of a blunt instrument without any of the appeal, or something along those lines. I’ll have to work out our working relationship quick, but considering my circumstances, perhaps it may be better to blend both life and work into one.

An alarm sounded above me. It played its brief, awful song of attention. I turned and noted that the console at the centre of the facility was prompting for user interference.

Immediately, I stepped up the platform and took time to admire the numerous artificial wombs attached to the walls of the building. A form of padding was prepared below in front of each pod to guarantee no injury before the start of duty. Currently, each pod was already filled with the green liquid and were connected via tube to a larger container in the ceiling above me which I guessed was the materials to be used to grow the soldiers. It was all impressive, and I filed the intricacies for exploration at a later date.

Now, I had men to produce.

It went without saying that I was running on cost effective measures, but one can only go so far before the only thing left to cut was their own hands. Therefore, I opted for deploying the cheapest troops at Nod’s disposal.

Militants, or some say Militia. Desperate and fuelled by resentment for the authorities. These men were but disposable ants for grander schemes. Alas, they would have to do for now. Before that, however.

“EVA,” I called out. A synthetic beep was heard in response.

“Yes, commander,” it replied.

“How much in the way of income do we have at our disposal?”

“Currently, we have approximately 149,750 units worth of currency. Recommend building a refinery to ensure continuous disposable income.”

“All in good time,” I muttered. My mind already drifting to the options presented on the console in front of me.

Do note, the black box still sat comfortably in my pocket, in accordance to my set priorities at present. Hence, I was admittedly running blind and absorbing new knowledge as I went along. Admittedly, a part of me felt that I should’ve asked Rain for advice on this matter, but that felt rather lacklustre on my part and I myself was no fool when it came to reading and comprehension.

So, imagine my less than pleasant surprise to find that the interface for the console was similar in layout and accessibility as that of the control room in the ConYard. Namely, it was almost too easy to use and something I found worrying in the long run.

Back to my task, I found out that the homunculi were separated based on quality and roles which shouldn’t be surprising. Some models were priced together in whole groups like the Militia, while others such as Commandos and Officers were priced individually. The way it worked made sense, but there was certain to be more that I’d have to uncover eventually.

For now, I settled on five squads, and rounded out the number to ten each. I also found out that the equipment loadout could be edited as well as the physical appearance of the men being created. The settings presented was surprisingly detailed, and I quickly chose to ignore it for fear of wasting my time.

I did, however, change the main armament of the men. Apparently, you could cut the cost of a Militant by half if you removed his GD-2 rifle. Yes, it was plainly stupid of me, but I wasn’t in need of these men winning fights. I merely needed them to hold off possible pursuers and provide a sense of security until we could establish a proper base. They’ll be armed with simple autorifles and frag grenades for now.

With my selection done, I confirmed my requisition and watched as the building seemingly came to life. The tubes linking the vessel above to the pods began to pump new matter into the latter; a new shade of green along with what I could see to be a lump of meat. It was fascinating to say the least.

A new set of digits appeared on the console. This being a timer set to two and a half hours. It was indeed impressive to say the least that these men would be effectively ‘born’ and ‘grown up’ within such a small timeframe.

Nodding to myself in appreciation of a job well done, I made my way out seeing as I had no need to waste time awaiting my men. Walking back out the way I came, it was only then I noticed the two passageways that led to two rooms on opposite ends some five meters from the entrance of the structure. I only noticed them now due to the sound of machinery emanating from within each room.
That took care of the weapons manufacturing at least.

Stepping out into the afternoon light, I was immediately reminded that this wasn’t just any normal start. The fact was, the ConYard was dropped smack down in the middle of the desert, and my eyes were treated to the harsh, unforgiving glare from the Sun for what had to be the second time today.

Rather than head back to the ConYard immediately, I decided to walk around to the back of the Hand and take in the view of our immediate surroundings. I wasn’t sure what exactly I’d hoped to accomplish, but I figure some fresh, dry air would be good before

The sun glared at me from above. All around me was the blasted arid deserted. I can feel the heat cooking me in my attire, and wanting nothing more than to seek shelter or worse shed my clothing. Inhaling, I took a time within time to contemplate on an important question.

Just what am I now.

The sweat that dripped from my temple did not graced me with an answer. Neither did the boiling heat. As I casted my gaze dully over the horizon, I tried to make out the thin line that marked the curve of the land. Sadly, it was a fruitless task for now.

For now.

Breathing deeply, I turned on my heel and marched back to the ConYard. My eyes went upwards, admiring the giant maw that stretched at least forty, maybe fifty meters above me. Indeed, I could why this could be referred to a city builder.

As I stepped into the beast’s dark maw, I could make out the gantry and platforms that would be used for building the base. The signature crane was retracted up into the ceiling. Special scaffolding was pulled back into the walls and corners where their outlines wouldn’t disturb the view from the control room.

Speaking of which, I noticed the distinct lack of a silhouette from the console above.

A dull clap was hear, and I found myself blinded by numerous floodlights. I cursed as I squinted whilst raising a hand to further block out the blinding light. Just what in blazes is happening now, I wondered.

“Master,” a familiar feminine tone called to me.

“Rain,” I greeted back. “Care to explain for the sudden assault?”

The illumination seemed to dim enough for me to make out her silhouette.

“My apologies,” she said. “I was in the process of testing the ConYards supplementary features. I must say that this particular model is far more enhanced when compared to the baseline model.”

“I don’t see how having an onboard burglar alarm is anything special.”

“Of course not, but the bay lighting wasn’t what I was referring to,” she then approached me, and now that my eyes had better adjusted, I could make out her figure more clearly.

I was, for all intents and purposes, enraptured. Underneath the lights, I could easily make out every feature she had from her waist length blonde hair to the hourglass figure that was barely visible under the uniform. Granted, she was in Nod regalia, but that little to differentiate her from the original. The clicks from her boots were grace incarnate to my ears.

She really was Rain in name and appearance.

I really had to work out my new life paradigms fast.

As my self-proclaimed assistant approached, she extended her hand towards me. More importantly, the device held in her grasp. Its shape looked really familiar to me.

“A Pipboy?” I queried.

“If that is another way of calling a Wrist Mounted Tool, then yes.” She clarified.

I took the device, and got to work putting it on my left wrist. Upon closer inspection beforehand, I noticed that it was certainly larger, with it easily covering two thirds of my forearm. I had to wince when the device tightened around my limb, and I expected there to be stabbing pains of some short. No sooner did the device finished adjusting that it came to life of its own volition. Briefly displaying the Nod logo before going through a regular startup.

The similarities to a Pipboy became more apparent when I swept my hand across the surface and felt the knobs along with a few buttons I’d have to figure out on my own. Giving my arm one or two swings, I tested the overall weight and how secure the device’s grip was. I was impressed for the most part.

“This tool is standard issue to all upper echelon Nod forces,” Rain explained. “It’ll be needed for management outside the control rooms and confines of conventional command and control centres. EVA should be automatically linked to each unit.”

As if on cue, the tools onboard audio speakers came to life.

“EVA link secured,” the intelligence announced. “Identity confirmed, base is awaiting your orders commander.”

I nodded, and with a second of fiddling found the panel button to respond back.

“EVA, work on bringing the ConYard’s scanners to max capacity. I also want you to route any excess power we have to the Hand if it speed our production. Inform me when the men are ready and have them wait for me in the ConYard bay.”

“Affirmative commander,” it replied. “Error, power routing will not increase infantry unit production speed. The process is already running at minimum, and any further decrease would affect the unit’s performance.”

“Noted, then belay that order and carry out the rest,” I cut the link after. With that out of the way, I walked to the main bay doors that would lead deeper into the structure. Rain once again keeping step beside me. Both of us headed deeper into the structure until we reached an elevator take us to the upper levels.

As we stepped in, I took the opportunity to notify her about my plans, pressing the button for the lift as I did so.

“I’ll be in my quarters getting myself up to speed on operations. I need you to keep watch over the base. Inform me if there is anything of note.”

“Certainly, Master.”

With a ding, the doors opened to the side to allow me passage through. I’d barely taken two steps before turning to face the woman still inside.

“…. Did I ever give you, my name?” I queried.

“No, Master,” came her calm reply. “But you need not worry. I already that your name is Jared, and that you are to be referred by your birth name unless specified otherwise.”

I nodded, sucking my lower lips as I understood just who had probably informed her of that particular quirk of mine. Inhaling deeply, I turned to look back down the hall, my hands balling tightly at my sides.

“Good,” I sighed. “Dismissed.”

The elevator doors closed behind me as I turned a familiar corner to where I knew the commander’s quarters to me. Supposedly, this was where all those commander avatars were supposed to be in-between mission deployments. The room was certainly spacious given the fact that it had to be fitted in the cramp confines of a massive mobile building constructor. Thankfully, the activation process had removed some of the crimson gloom and replaced it with more suitable orange lights that was better for the comfort of the eyes.

From the entrance, I could now make out the bed on me left, and an empty shelf to my right. What made the latter unique was that it was the only shelf that appeared to be genuinely vacant of any paraphernalia when compared to the shelves behind the desk at the centre of the room.

Turning my head fully to both my left and right, I noted the right corner had a small space with a dedicated coffee desk and couches; a meeting place with outsiders perhaps. The left corner was peculiar in that it appeared to be a massive transparent chamber; small wisps of air hung in what appeared to be suspended animation below the ceiling light within the container.

All of these items only served to reinforce the fact that I was in over my head. To where did my previous anger-fuelled motivation go I wonder? What happened to that talk of making the world pay for another’s delight? Was it just the heat and nervousness messing with me?

These questions only served to deepen my frustration, and that wasn’t even taking into account whatever bloated infodump awaited me within the black box.

No better than now to start, I guess. I didn’t hesitate making my way around the table and sitting down in the chair provided. It wasn’t lost on me how it resembled a cross between a gaming chair, and a typical sci-fi throne. Nonetheless, it proved to be a very comfy thing.

Next, came the fumbling as I looked for a power button and access port. The latter proved easier to find and proved my hunch right that there were numerous easy to access panels and switches within the room that did little to compromise the clean aesthetic overall. It was the power button that gave me more trouble, until I realised just how moronic I was when sat straight in the chair and noted the flashing light on what otherwise would’ve been a dark, blank screen.

Real classy of me.

With a single tap, much of the table came to life, with a desktop screen vaguely reminiscent of the Windows series. I noticed this was becoming a pattern by this point and one I certainly had to deal with it soon if I want to avoid this becoming a problem in the future.

From there, it was silence and the gradual passing of time as I got to work researching the intricacies of my own faction. It proved… interesting to say the least.

Manpower was not an issue at all. All homunculi come fully developed and have a startlingly degree of flexibility in thinking. There was some disparity over certain breeds (models if you will) such as those meant to hold positions of authority on both field and office level. A geass of sorts also exist from what I understand that served as a contingency amongst them in case of capture. This same geass also prevented open rebellion or distrust, which I find to be disturbing.

Homunculi production costs vary depending on the previously mentioned roles and quality. The militias I’d ordered were effectively the lowest of the low, having been based on Yellow Zone dwellers who grew radicalised by Nod’s provocation and propaganda. Their only form of training mostly stems from their already harsh living and a common apathy to the presence of firearms. Otherwise, they really weren’t much of a real fighting force.

This was where things get interesting. You see, the ‘tech tree’ of Nod is not in sequence to the video game releases. Rather, it was based on the Brotherhood’s strength at any given time. It was a good explanation as any as to why we had access to TibWar 3 militants alongside TibWar 1 vehicles, but the proper crews for the latter were considered an upper tier that would be costly to produce as of now.

I had taken the time to draw up a basic mapping of the progression we’d be expected to go through. Three subcategories divided the overall map into Dawn, Wake and Star.

As of now, Nod is at Pre-Dawn level tech. Our advancement would hinge on finding a Tiberium deposit, and I doubt that the thing that sent me here would be foolish enough to deprive us of the essential mineral lest it wants its show to end on a premature note.

The second hour of my self-imposed isolation would finish rather fast. Much of my time had been spent organising the roadmap for future plans. Thankfully, I learned that any data on my desk could be accessed through the Wrist Tool with ease. That only leaves me to discuss with Rain on the matter and ask her advice on how to proceed onward.

Hm, the more I think about it, the more I wander just what is Rain’s true purpose. She introduced herself when I woke up to be my aide, but that could also as much be a coverup to avoid the fact she’s my handler. A pinch in my heart accompanied the thought that all she needed to do was assuage my fears and nudge my thoughts the right way to ensure that I stick to whatever goal it had in plan.

I really didn’t like that train of thought. However, I was stopped from further entertaining it when three beeps sounded from the WMT.

“Commander, unit production is finished,” EVA reported. “Your forces are awaiting you in the fabrication bay.”

“I’ll be down shortly,” came my curt reply.

I walked briskly to the elevator. To no surprise, I found Rain already within the lift at parade rest waiting for me. I greeted her with a nod and she returned it with her own as we made our way down to meet the first batch of my would hopefully be my soon-to-be army.

I did not miss the subtle jolt that went through my system at the mere thought of having followers.

Upon entering the massive space that was the bay, I noted how the floodlights from before were still on. The pale light was bordered by a thick black line that served to partition it from the early evening rays outside.

It was underneath this artificial light that I saw them. Unlike their uniform counterparts in-game, these men came with all sort of clothing ranging from hoodies and parkas to makeshift ponchos and cloaks, with the occasional oddly fashioned military gear. The Scorpion Tail was haphazardly placed anywhere on their clothes.

These details didn’t bother me. What did was the severe lack of consideration with how they handled their weaponry, with some having their barrels pointed directly at their faces. Others were clearly clueless on what not to do to ruin a weapon, and I started to feel reasonably concern over the fact that I had given them explosives as part of their gear.

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to cut cost afterall.

“Master, is there something wrong?”

I looked at Rain who maintained her usual serious, but calm complexion. A look into her blue eyes told me there was some curiosity as to why I’d stopped mid-walk, and- before I’d process it completely- simply smiled and told her…

“Planning how to put on a show of course!”

The smile faded from my face as I turned to look back at the men. Raucous laughter erupted from the armed rabble over some sort of game they were having. Immediately, I picked up the pace as I saw that two of them were on the verge of a fight.

One of the men who’d been standing on the side lines and shaking his head at the growing chaos was the first to notice my and my aide’s approach. I caught the surprised look on his face before it snapped into a solid wall of stoicism.

“Fighters stand to!” he bellowed. The men barely had the time to process before some of them turned to look my way, prompting them to warn their comrades who then scrambled to try and form something representing a proper unit formation. Through many curses and the sounds of guns clattering on the steel floor, they were able to form a decent semicircle, with their guns either held at their sides or at the very least away from me.

Carefully, my eyes regarded every last one of them. I could make out plenty of youths, despite the rugged looks. Interestingly, some appeared older than the rest and made more distinctive by how they stood straight at parade rest. One of them was also the man from earlier who was the first to notice me.

“You!” I pointed. “Tell me about yourself.”

The man seemingly stood straighter if that was even possible before answering. “Sir! I’m number oh-four. Template based on insurgents from Yellow-03, Croatia. I’m leader of Militant Squad Four!”

Interesting.

I turned another man. This one younger than the first and could clearly see how much he kept swallowing.

“You!” I pointed.

“Number thirty-seven… Sir!” he yelled; voice full of anxiety. “I-I from a place c-called Batumi, Georgia. Squad Three, and ready and reporting for duty sir!”

I nodded upon listening to the man’s spiel. My understanding of these men before me grew and become more and more interconnected with I’d read in the files. While I could just simply dismiss and give them some basic orders right away, it occurred to me that there’s an opportunity awaiting me here.

Practice makes perfect after all.

I raised my hands.

“Welcome!” I said, voice raised. “Welcome one and all. To all of you, my brethren. Those before me who are born from the wombs of Nod. Those before me raised by its Hand. Those of you, who are BLESSED TO BE THE FIRSTBORN!! IN! THESE! LANDS!”

My wide eyes matched with as many of them as I could. Their reactions were mixed, but there was more than just uncertainty in their eyes now. There was a spark, a glimmer, and something else I wasn’t sure of myself.

“I understand if some of you may have your doubts about me,” I lowered my tone, hand resting on my chest. “And you would be right to doubt. Some of you may have hoped to work with a real figure in our Brotherhood. Why, some would ask to work with the great messiah, KANE HIMSELF!”

That… got their attention. It was a bold move to try and push the central figure of the culture they were expected to emutate right in their faces, but it was just as important for me and maybe them to get this over with before things got hectic and stressing.

“Alas, I am not Kane,” I added with a subtle shake of my head. “And neither are you Nod as it should be. BUT! There is something that you are, and do you know what that is?”

I observed as the men looked at each other and then me expectantly. Raising a finger, I willed as much emphasis in my next words as my very being allowed.

“Mine,” I dragged out the word. “That is what you are. You all are my kin, my brothers. MY NOD! Together, we shall see the world shudder at the very mention of our name. Together, we will forge names for ourselves and all of those who may come after us!”

I pointed to the one called Four.

“You will be called Sergei!”

I pointed at the one who called himself Thirty-seven.

“And you will be called Iosef!”

I then swept my hand in the general direction of all of them.

“All of you shall be given names!” I shouted in glee. “Not just a number, but a name to define you. For names define PURPOSE!”

“ONE VISION!” someone yelled out.

“ONE PURPOSE!” someone continued.

“PEACE! THROUGH!” I yelled.

“POWER!!” the crowd roared.

It dissolved into total mayhem then. My men had lost all pretence of discipline and had simply dissolved into a troop of primates waving guns and fists. All the while shouting the mantra that defined the very order to which they served. Yet, to even my own amazement there was no trace of faux joy in their faces. The exact opposite, they were actually motivated by my speech.

Homy shit, did I do that?

Sadly, I guess it was just me burning out my luck for the day. Of course, one of these idiots didn’t have their gun on safety. So, all it took was a jump to be taken in way too much hype for the trigger finger to do its job and discharge a round out of the chamber.

BANG

Heads ducked as they heard the bullet bounced across the ceiling. Twice. Thrice. And finally, a fourth time. I heard the sound of glass breaking, and sparks. Lots of sparks.

“Master!” Rain yelled behind me. Just before I was pulled back and felt a hand on my chest.

A click was heard, and I regained my bearings just in time to see Rain brandishing a handgun that similar to a Glock at the men. Many of which now looked to be cowering in fear of what one of them had done.

I licked my lips at the scene before me. It had been going so surprisingly well up until this point. Ah, might as well defuse the situation.

Reaching to the gloved hand on my chest, I gave it a soft squeeze. Rain tilted her head ever so slightly in acknowledgement, which prompted me take small steps forward. I placed a hand on her shoulder when I was close enough, and this time she turned towards me in what was clearly concern and also annoyance.

Why are you so charming!?

I turned to look at the men, giving them a smile to hopefully belay their first. It didn’t work, but there was no need to make the situation more stressing than it already was.

“Now, who’s gun was it that misfired?” I asked politely.

The situation in the bay gradually solved itself.

After the guilty profusely apologised, I decided that it would be in our best interest to not waste anymore time and get the show rolling. At my command, the Hand of Nod mockery was scrapped and we were able to recover the funds used to build it wholly. The men would for now be stationed within the ConYard proper. I dismissed myself then after whilst leaving Rain to give the men a proper ‘lecture’ on gun safety.

Hence, I’m now seated once more in what I now was beginning to understand was the pilot seat of the MCV. The blast shielding for the control room had been lifted with the structure’s activation, much to my relief. Much of the lighting had also been turned on in due process, so now we had proper white lights to accompany the red that was still occasionally visible here and there.

The muffled click and ding signalled the arrival of the lift. The distinctive clicks were all that I needed to know just who had entered, along with a good guess just who would be in tow.

“I still don’t think this is wise, Master.” My aide asked.

“Which part? Moving the MCV, or not letting you execute my man.”

“Both,” she stressed.

“Come now, an accident is an accident.” I tried assuring her, before addressing the other occupant. “Isn’t that right Hassan?”

“Yes sir,” the militiaman meekly replied.

“See,” I smiled at Rain, who in turn gave me a deadpan look before turning to her station.

“EVA, begin MCV ‘pack up’ protocol,” she addressed the virtual intelligence.

“Confirmed, MCV beginning reconfiguration,” came the synthetic response.

The floor beneath us rumbled rather violently. All around us, I watched as the control room underwent slight changes in the form of panels and monitors fading in and out of the walls. In some places, entire consoles and terminals disappeared, whilst new ones reappeared in other places.

That paled when compared to what was happening to the outside in the main bay, however. From where we were inside the control room, I could see the ceiling, walls and floor move and weave as plates rearranged themselves to fit a newer purpose. Hazard lights flashed alongside alarms as the men stationed down below scrambled to reach the special seating located on the sides of the facility for this specific event.

I was jerked back into my seat rather suddenly as console setup before me reconfigured. A yoke appeared before me along with a set of levers and sticks, confirming part of my earlier suspicions. Another surprise to be had was when the entirety of the room was suddenly pushed forward and rotated to the ‘front’ of the forming vehicle. Not that I would’ve really noticed considering the feeling of vertigo that assailed.

“Oh,” Hassan moaned behind me.

“K-keep you safety in check,” I tried to jest.

Eventually, the rumbling died down, and its place we were greeted with a vast arid landscape. The same one which I’d viewed with my own eyes not too long ago. It felt mildly demoralising that nothing seemed to change despite the obvious increase in height.

“MCV is packed. Prepared to move by your will Master,” Rain reported and I nodded in confirmation.

“EVA,” I called out. “Please tell me there’s an autopilot feature in this thing.”

“Nod Third Generation MCV’s are not equipped with advanced automation features,” replied the VI. “However, advance stabilisers by default and should prevent a majority of unwanted accidents whilst operating the vehicle.”

“I could take over piloting if your uncomfortable, Master.”

I pondered for a moment, but soon decided against it.

“Thank you for the offer Rain,” I shook my head. “But I think it would be better of me to handle the drive for now. Call it a personal test of sorts.”

“As you wish.”

A brief uncertainty wormed its way into my chest, but I managed to muster the strength to grip the controls and slowly manipulate them. Of course, I wasn’t an idiot and I had EVA give me a quick rundown on how the setup worked and much to my non-existent surprise, the entire thing was relatively made for ease of use, and I was yet again left with a reminder to solve this particular problem in case of unwanted hiccups down the road.

After some careful steps, the massive quadruped began its crawl across the barren lands. Despite my previous insistence to not waste time, I took the better part of fifteen minutes to familiarise myself with the motion and operation of the massive machine by performing basic circles and rotations. By this point, the Sun was already low on the horizon and a part of me chastised the time lost.

Bringing up my WMT, I inputted a few new commands. Specifically, I brought out a data file I’d noticed earlier whilst studying the hard drives contents that I’d a hunch as to what it was meant for.

“EVA, I’m uploading a data file to the navigation. Can you set it as our main destination?”

“Confirmed, analysing,” it said. “Data processed. Recalibrating navigation.”

The dashboard in front of me opened up three new windows. A simple arrow, a basic map of the terrain and what presumed was 3d imagery of our immediate surroundings along with relevant data such as speed and weather forecast. Once again, I held a reasonable degree of fascination at what I was seeing.

Alas, these were thoughts to be entertained late. Gripping the yokes more tightly, I leaned forward and willed the vehicle to move in the direction indicated in the navigator. A pull at the corner of my lips expressed my sheer glee.

For all the troubles this life would bring, I’ll learn to take it in strides. For so long as I knew my lore, and the power I could wield given time, then there was almost nothing that could stand in my way. Granted, we were still aways a way, but the dice has already been cast.

All that’s left is to act on instinct.

A/N: I bear no shame in writing out this piece. However, I’ll follow in my senior writers steps and say that new updates will come when they come. If you have to blame, then let it be on my initiation into the Brotherhood through finally finishing Kane’s Wrath.

Earnestly, we need more Nod isekai stories. Like, who doesn’t want to see a world overrun with Tiberium? Don’t you know how wonderful it is to have near infinite resources and manpower at your disposal?

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: Workmen

Our journey was a rather quiet one at first save the gentle wobbling of the crawler. I was so energised from the mere imagining of the possibilities in this world that I forfeited sleep through the night. Rain had the initiative to at least bring me food, much to my own embarrassment regarding my lack of self-care.

Then the first trial of this world came to us.

Approaching the end of our second day in this unknown world, brown clouds of sand approached us from the west. EVA had wanted us to deploy the MCV and wait out the storm.

Sadly, I had argued against, and it backfired hard afterwards.

Upon checking the time left before the storm hit, I’d pushed for gaining as much ground as possible. It wasn’t that I was worried that we’d run out of supplies, but simply because I didn’t like the idea of wasting our time far longer than necessary. Rain protested against me as well, and I voiced my disagreement against her just as much as I did EVA.

Now, here we are, trapped due to a dune collapse.

My knuckles were still white from having frozen stiff in fear. Me and Rain had switched seats whilst the latter worked with our resident intelligence to figure out a plausible solution to our problem. My head hung low and silent whilst the dust storm blew outside.

It was quite the fantastic start I must say.

With nothing better to do, I got to work reading more of the information within the black box. While much of it seemed general at first, it was better I tried to read as much of the contents as I could in case there was something of note that I may miss.

I glimpsed at Hassan in the corner of my vision. The homunculi had barely avoided injury by grabbing the corner of one of the tables in the room. I had him use the intercom to inquire as to the state of his brothers down in the main bay, and thankfully most of the injuries were light. With not much to do, the man had drifted into sleep, which was peculiar given his biology. Deciding it was not worth my time, I continued my reading.

Rain wasn’t kidding when she mentioned this MCV possessed was a very special model of its own.

To correct myself, the official height when deployed was 53 meters at its very tip and had 100 meters in length and 40 meters in width. It occurred to me quickly how some of the interior didn’t match the outside. A quick pull up of the schematics revealed that much of the space was dedicated to the vehicles mecha-shifting capabilities as well as housing for more powerful sensor arrays and data storage. It even had its own small cloning facility apparently, but it was only regulated to two tubes. This was on top of living space for the crew. Sadly, that didn’t to explain much of how the space worked for me at least.

My attempt to research into the matter at least brought up a basic understanding as to how base construction worked. In layman’s terms, the materials can be tunnelled through the soil in massive crates which then erupt from the earth to form the required structure or transported there physically. This technology was based rather loosely on tiberium seeding itself, with the crate forming the ‘pot’ that the plant is expected to grow out of.

I could go into plagiarising the text on nano-assembly, but I fear that I wouldn’t do it justice seeing how I myself only understood a small iota of it.  

What was important to take away from this was that like in the game, the terrain played an important factor into construction. EVA did most of the work in ensuring that our base structures could operate in most terrain. However, in order to maximise our defences, we’d need to adapt minute changes in our buildings to fit different terrain. These changes weren’t to be drastic in anyway, just enough to better blend into the surroundings. This would be yet another topic to discuss with Rain.

For the moment, seeing as I was trying to cut cost as much as possible, I duplicated the file of yet another building folder in order to create cheap mockeries for use within the immediate future. Earnestly, I question just how many of my supposed ‘brethren’ were screaming indignantly at me right now for being cheap on the faction whose units already notorious for being expendable.

Hours seemed to pass by as the three organics and one synthetic within the room found their own ways to pass the time. At some point, even I happened to doze off as became apparent when my vision blackened.

“Master,” a voice called out, and something shook me by the shoulder.

I opened my eyes blearily and was soon met with a most beautiful sight.

There was Rain with her face inches from mind. I could make out the details on her face from strands of hair to her eyelashes. Temptation rose within me to cup that face. Alas, one good look at her beret was all that was needed to remind me as to my current situation.

Shaking off my drowsiness, I stood straight in my chair and looked around my surroundings. Inwardly, I cursed seeing as how it must’ve been close to noon if the brightness outside was any indicator.

My brow furrowed, I turned to look at my aide with the most serious expression I could muster.

“Please tell me you have a solution to this mess,” I asked.

“That would be part of why I awoke you Master,” Rain replied, straightening her posture as she did so. “EVA has determined that now that the sandstorm has come to pass, we can try reversing the MCV and recalculate an alternate path to our destination.”

“Good,” I nodded at her words. “Proceed with the execution. I’ll leave the piloting to you, Rain.”

She nodded in understanding before making her way back to her station. I took the opportunity to look at our supposed guard. I really shouldn’t have been surprised to see that the man was still sleeping and also drooling on to top of that.

Damn untrained militant, I internally grumbled.

Deciding that, like any good leader, I didn’t like the idea of my subordinate sleeping on the job, I came up with a good way to remind them to do their job right. Turning to the WMT still attached to my wrist, I felt for a particular button that I now knew existed for good reason.

“I’m going to try out a feature on the WMT, Rain.”

“Go on ahead, Master.”

Pressing the button with a growing smile on my face, the MCV’s klaxon alarms blared in full force. The poor man stood no chance as scrambled off the floor with a sharp scream, and even I was taken by mild surprise by how sudden and loud it got. I’ll give credit where its due because the man seemed to gather his wits quickly and was looking at me with clear concern.

“Be mindful, Hassan,” I said with a brief smile. “Danger comes at a moment’s notice. I ask that you be vigilant, or at the very least competent in your duties.”

“I-I’m sorry, sir!” he stammered. “I-I didn’t mean to fail in the line of duty again. Please don’t forsake me!”

“No, no, Hassan,” I reassured the man. “Just take it as a nasty reminder of your duties. Oh, you better get on the intercom again too.”

This made the man ever paler than he had been before. I had to applaud him for finding the strength to reach to the intercom station and listen in to the ranting of no less than 5 mouths. My little amusement was finished with me spinning my chair to face the front.

And being confronted with my own failure.

Well, shit.

“Beginning reverse movement in five seconds,” Rain reported.

“Acknowledged,” I confirmed.

At the final count of one, the MCV tremored ever so harshly as servos strained to pull the weight of the body out of the sand that trapped it. The first groan was enough to make me close my eyes in resignation. Yet, I didn’t hear any sound that would indicate my journey in this world would be short-lived.

With a muffled boom, crawler’s ‘nose’ bursts out of the sand that entombed it. I could hear, even from within the control room, the frantic steps taken by the vehicle to escape lest it falls into the pit once more. Five steps back later, and we reached the cusp of the hill where gravity worked to pull us back and out. A moment of freefall later, we found ourselves behind the curve we’d fallen into the day before. The MCV ‘sat’ on its rear as it settled.

The whole incident was nothing short of a burst of exhilaration. I looked back to see Hassan gripping the intercom for dear life, but a nod from him was enough for me to know that he was fine.

Rain, however, was a different story.

Her posture was locked in place. Arms stretched in a straight line with hands gripping the yokes in a death grip. Sweat dripped and soaked her uniform to the point it looked like she could melt into a puddle before my eyes. Her mouth slowly opened, releasing a mute breath.

I wasted no time getting up and reaching her side. I didn’t care when I slipped and nearly slammed my head onto the console. Her health took precedence over mind.

When I did reach her, it seemed she retained enough awareness to look at me. It was then I noticed the bags under her eyes and her pale expression. Her state of health was a lot worse than I thought.

I snapped back to Hassan once more.

“Medical, now!” I ordered.

“Adjutant Rain is subject of extreme exhaustion,” EVA informed. “Recommend rest period of approximately four hours before a return to active duty.”

“That won’t be necessary, I’ll be fine in five, Master,” Rain weakly protested.

“None of it Rain,” I glared at my assistant, before softening. “You deserve this rest. It’s my fault we were in this mess to begin with.”

“But, what about the time,” she tried arguing. “We won’t be able to make up for it if we wait for me to recover.”

“True,” I nodded. “But that’s where I have to work smarter.”

I lightly gripped her shoulder. “Get some rest Rain. My orders.”

The woman had been strapped to a medical bed within the MCV’s infirmary. I wasn’t sure if this room was supposed to be in a mobile builder, but I wasn’t one to complain. Not that when it was this room that was going to help her recover.

I watched as she slowly closed her eyes and drifted into slumber. Looking at her still sweat-drenched clothes, I felt my heart become heavy at the thought that I was to blame for this. I’d take the liberty of removing her coat at least and strapping her on one of the medical beds to avoid an unwanted fall, seeing as the MCV were still at an incline.

With my current priority handled, I made my way out of the medical room and into its connecting hallway. Hassan was waiting for me there, having helped me bring Rain into the room in the first place. His heavy footfalls echoed up and down the length of space we traversed.

“Sir?” the man behind me asked.

“Yes?” I replied, not bothering to turn my head as we traversed into the hallway leading to the lift.

“This place is kinda creepy, ain’t it?” the militiaman voiced. “I mean, I get it that the dark, scary look makes us look badass, but, can’t we do with sum more peeps in here at least?”

“In case you haven’t noticed my dear subordinate, we don’t have the freedom of expending our funds aimlessly. Not until we find a Tiberium deposit to which we could feed our engines.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, I get that part. Still, I guess it kinda got boring standing around watching you and Mistress working all day.”

I pondered for a bit on what he said, then asked as we entered the lift.

 “Do you wish to go down to your brethren then, while we’re here?”

“….. Yes?”

Hassan had the decency to at least give me a ‘thanks’ as he exited the lift into the main bay. I managed to catch a glimpse of his supposed ‘glorious triumphant return’ to his brothers, seeing as the bay doors were left open. Something about the scene I saw struck a nerve within me, but I knew enough that the homunculi didn’t intend it, or at least he was at no fault at all.

When the lift doors closed once more, it was only me with the silence for companionship.

“Permission to speak, commander,” EVA’s voice reverberated through the silence.

“Granted,” I said.

“It is highly suggested that Unit Number 12’s remark be taken into more consideration.”

“Why is that?”

“With the current state of our operations, we would be putting ourselves under unnecessary strain each time that a complication occurs. Recommend bolstering our manpower to ensure quality efficiency within the organisation.”

“That requires resources EVA. And like I told Hassan; we don’t have the luxury to throw money at our problems. This matter will solve itself when we find the Tiberium field.”

“According to the data transferred, we approximately have a distance of no less than 600 kilometres to travel, requiring a period of 7.5 days to reach our destination, provided we do not encounter anomalies and hazards such as the one today.”

The elevator ding sounded, and I instinctively planted my feet into the floor as I worked to climb up the incline and make my way towards the pilot’s chair. The task proved arduous given that I had very little friction on the smooth floor.

Getting seated was another test of my patience, but I prevailed nonetheless. I had to quickly turn the seat to face forward and lock it to avoid falling out. By then, I breathed heavily from the exertion. A moment went by before I responded back against the intelligence.

“There’s isn’t much of a threat out there other than the sand and heat. Any vehicle we make would still need manpower to operate, let alone be properly armed. You’re concerned is noted EVA, but I’m not even willing to waste another digit of our funds unless we get into trouble.”

I didn’t bother to hear its next line of argument. Gripping the yokes, I set to work bringing the crawler back to a proper upright position. My forward direction underwent several deviations up and down, but eventually the legs were able to find just the right position to enable comfortable, flat movement and not that of an obstacle course on an incline.

I let out a hearty breath before standing up. The muscles on my face seemed to relax and settle back to the neutral look I was comfortable with. Now, onto my next task, I thought to myself.

“Commander,” EVA called out.

“What is it now EVA?” I inquired, a feeling of annoyance rising.

The holographic table to my left flared to life. A dark shade of orange, followed by the generation of lines and curves and finally shapes. Curious enough, I walked towards the light to see just what the electronic was trying to show me.

Immediately, I could make out the familiar shape of the ConYard as I neared. I assumed to be a schematic of sorts, but what I drew my attention was the x-ray showing the internal layout of the structure, mainly the various rooms and their function. This was complimented by a list of personnel tasked with operating said rooms, most of which was empty as of now.

“Before you is the list of personnel required to maximise MCV operations. As you can see, the list is incomplete.”

“Yes, I can very well see that, EVA.”

“Regardless of if you feel that building our combat capability to be a profligate of our limited resources, the same cannot be said of the support staff tied into the steady management and maintenance of our forces. These personnel are far more of value then any armament or group of trained elite units. As this unit has witnessed, the current commander lacks the capability to single-handily operate and carry out tasks by its lonesome. A dedicated, trained staff would allow them more freedom to focus on the larger picture as opposed to having to dedicate faculties to the most minute issues.”

“….,”

“This unit only does what it needs to ensure the secured future operation of present Nod forces. The decision is still yours to make commander.”

My lips straightened as I stared at the list of personnel. EVA had even given upfront the cost of producing each individual unit. Upon tapping the name of each unit on screen, the details regarding the homunculi were even written down to a Tee.

It really wanted me to take this.

I couldn’t fault it either. My stunt has costed us an entire day along with the strength of my supposedly most important aide. What men I do have were hardly of use as of now, which was ironic given that I placed so much emphasis on not wasting resources only to produce assets that can’t differentiate a sensor station from a calculator.

I turned to look at the empty space of the pilot’s seat. What came to mind was the exhausted woman who had worked tirelessly in the first two days of her existence to serve me, and that’s before her so-called ‘master’ had even broached the topic of getting to know her better and ascertain the true extent of her loyalties.

A weight that I didn’t know previously began to form in my heart. Perhaps, it had already been there, and I hadn’t notice. Maybe I was taking this whole displacement scenario in the wrong light; not that it would be out of place given my history.

A drawn-out breath escaped my lips. My eyes closed as I rubbed my palm over my face.

An idiot not cut out for this.

“Commander?” EVA voiced.

“…. Focus on producing medical staff first,” I said curtly. “After that, I want a pilot, co-pilot, and the full staff for the control room. Forward to me the personnel list and prepare a list of other things you believe we should have that isn’t directly combat related but is otherwise important in the future.”

“As you order, commander,” the light from the table’s screen died. Even it didn’t have a physical presence, I could tell the intelligence had turned its attention elsewhere.

Once again, I found my reflection staring back at me. I hated it, truth be told. Yet, there was no choice in my part seeing as how it had dropped me on this path. Hence, it was all I could do to let the anger fester and grow as it please with no outlet for release.

Well, maybe except for one thing.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“You keep hitting off-centre. Try and keep a straighter arm, and stop twitching.”

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“Stop, that’s enough.”

A hand reached out and gripped the back of the pistol I’d been shooting. It pushed the weapon down until it was pointed at the grounded, along with both my hands in extension.

I turned to look at my chosen teacher. Sergiu’s face was by definition the perfect representation of calm and patient. However, I knew better, and recognised the face of a person who’d seen too many of the same faults repeated by many a student under them. I internally winced at the thought.

The shooting range we were on was an ad hoc using ‘free’ items fabricated and dispensed in a construction container. Earlier, after some thought, I decided to deploy the base to allow the men some fresh air from the impromptu and very unwanted joy ride. As a way of apologising, I’d had EVA bring up a second container with a compact kitchen and plenty of good food to cheer the men up some more. Of course, the festive was only allowed after the practice drill I had the squads do.

I opted to join in as well, switching to a basic PT gear stashed away in my room. The training was also how I learned just how much disparity physically separated me from the homunculi. I guess the perks of living in the apocalypse was that to an extent, everyone was sporting plenty of muscle. While their leaders were certainly a step above, the fact was they were able to go quite a ways before tiring out.

Tried as I myself might, the fact was I didn’t make a fifth of the way before collapsing. At some point, I convinced myself that if this gave me a bad perception among the men, then by all means it was earned because how much I sucked.

This was two hours ago. Now, the group leaders had called for the end of the session to prevent unwanted incidents due to the heat. Many of the men were in the process of using the ConYards showers whilst the leaders worked on prepping the food. I stayed behind to continue more firearm practice.

Flicking the safety, I placed the weapon on the counter. I rubbed my wrist to get rid of the soreness. A sigh escaped my lips as I observed the aftermath of my efforts.

My aim wasn’t too wild, but the fact was I could tell it wasn’t that great either. I didn’t kid myself and try to go for headshots. Instead, worked to maintain a tight spreading dead centre of the paper target.

“It’s a good first try, commander.”

“You think?”

“Of course, what matters now is that you know your way around the gun. Trust me when I say this, start with quick shots to learn good shots to learn kill shots.”

“How does that make any sense?”

“If you can be the first to fire, then you have the better chance of walking out of trouble; that requires good aim. From there, you’ll learn to aim well, and start hitting true, and there’s the final that I feel doesn’t need elaboration.”

I nodded slowly digesting the words the veteran had to say. The low sun casted shadows over his eyes, and I felt almost like a character in a movie. It didn’t help when both turned to look at the makeshift mess hall now built in front of the ConYard. My mouth watered at the scent of something nice being cooked.

“Come,” Sergiu patted my shoulder. “Let us feast proper. To a new world awaiting to be conquered.”

This time, it was me following someone. With all that had happened, it was strange to be the one being led, and this was only the second day!

Strange times indeed.

“Commander!” the chef of the day called out as we neared. “Come on, the first meal is your honour.”

Sergiu turned to me. “Wanna shower first, sir?”

“No,” I shook my head. “I’m dead starving right now.”

As if to emphasis my point, an audible growl could be heard as well as the feeling of my exhaustion doubling. It got a guffaw out of the cook that was for sure.

“Now, no need to worry, commander,” he said jovially. “This here dish is special and straight from home.”

I was handed a plate, and what I immediately noticed first and foremost was the veggies. And holy, there was a lot of it. It was all neatly bundled and looked like what might’ve been a sandwich of some sort.

 I turned to look at the chef -who I happened to remember was third squad’s leader- and caught myself from making a face when confronted with his radiant smile. Politely thanking him, I moved to allow the next person in line, which of course was Sergiu.

The both of us took a seat on the floor below the curve of the ConYard. The men had returned from cleaning themselves and had just about rushed the kitchen, pushing each other all the way like children. A single shout from of the leaders, however, seemed to put them in their place and they began lining up.

“Quite the rowdy bunch, aren’t they?” Sergiu commented.

“Definitely in line with their backstories, that’s for sure,” I agreed with him before taking a bite out of the vege-wich. To say I had to take a double-take of the taste was an understatement.

“How do you find it, sir?”

I turned to look at Sergiu before turning back to look at my food. I didn’t have to ponder for longer in order to respond.

“I like the sour taste,” I commented, earning a nod from the man.

“That’s good,” he took two full bites of his food. “This stuff is considered a luxury from where we’re from. You can’t ever find good vegetables anywhere.”

…… Right, I forgot about that.

These men that were serving me came from a world of strife I couldn’t ever imagine. A world where the very air I took for granted killed people by the hundreds of thousands within years and drove humanity to near extinction. A world where you could be sleeping soundly in your home one night, and proceed to never wake up the next day because you’d already been turned to a bed for an alien crystal.

A world where you couldn’t even have an honest to God clean meal.

My knuckles tightened as it now came to the realisation more and more as to what I’m expected to do in this world. I could feel a tight grip forming around my heart as my imagination generated a world much like this violated to the very core and where every colour on the spectrum was a shade of sinister green.

What a dark fate to weave.

“Sir?” a voice called.

I turned to look at the curious face of Sergiu. Had I accidentally gotten too wrapped in my thoughts again?

I shook my head and assured him.

 “It’s fine,” I said, and thus we continued eating, until a thought occurred to me.

“Hey, Sergiu.”

“Hm?”

“…. Just how much do you remember of the world before?”

Immediately, the leader of Squad 4 dropped his last piece of half-eaten food. He went utterly stiff, save for the continuous blinking of his eyelids, akin to what happens when a child plays with shutters.

“Sergiu,” I called. “Are you alright?”

I gently tapped his kneecap. His response was to suddenly jolt and shake his head. However, what really caught my attention were his eyes. Something spoke from within his dark pupils and as I stared in them. Something I’d never seen in any human before.

Primal fear. A certain depth of horror I never knew to have been possible.

Upon seeing this, a part of me felt compelled to tell him that it was alright to not answer the question this time around. That he could forget what I said and maybe even make some hasty inspirational speech of sorts that would in making him forget. Yet, I never got to voice this as Sergiu spoke once more.

“…..I ask for forgiveness, sir,” his voice seemed to quiver. “That is a question I fear- no, I know that I can’t answer.”

This should’ve been my cue to not press on. Yet, what I did next surprised even me.

“Why?” was all that I voiced.

Sergiu gulped. “Because there is only so many ways I could describe the pain that my original self went through in those times. Physical, mental, spiritual; the amount of tribulation that surfaced in the wake of Tiberium’s spreading was soul-crushing.”

“So why didn’t he quit?” I interjected.

“…. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to,” he answered almost unwillingly. “It’s just that he didn’t have any other choice. They offered him a place to comfortably rest, along with a path to follow in those dark times.”

“He wasn’t just someone Nod hyped up, wasn’t he?”

Sergiu shook his head. “He was a candidate for becoming a minigunner, but alas there was no time for a proper initiation into the Brotherhood. In the end, he met his end a year after Sarajevo; dying on his back in what remained of his hometown.”

Hearing what my man said, I could only imagine what that must’ve been like. To die in pain and with the feeling of having hope stolen. Meeting death as a man who had nothing to lose, or perhaps even begin with.

Refocusing my vision on Sergiu, I watched him as he watched me. In the evening sun, I could catch the reflection of myself just barely. As I clicked my tongue, I felt a fire briefly spurn in my chest. Acting on it, I didn’t get to catch my next words.

“His death was a tragedy,” I addressed him. “However, don’t think that his fate is yours so easily my friend.”

I gripped his shoulder.

“I can assure you this. I don’t plan on letting things pan out as it did before. I want to go further. Further than even Kane did. We have the benefit of knowing how Tiberium grows, and what kind of change it brings. When I’m done, the world will see us in a far different light than it did in the old world.”

Mind and heart became one, and I placed all of my inner voice into speaking my next sentence.

“We’ll take this world for our own. We’ll show the people what it really means to live True and Strong. This time, there won’t be just misery and anger to give us incentive. All of those lost, pained souls; we’ll take them in and redeem them as people. We’ll give them back the meaning of living by serving under us.”

“Nod will ascend and evolve. Just as it is meant to!”

Such passion, such conviction. The words that slipped from my mouth; the weight didn’t compare to the sheer gravity of the promise I was making myself uphold. Yet, what I said miraculously struck a chord in Sergiu, for I immediately identified that same fire that had briefly burned in me now burning strong in his eyes.

Despite being seated, he attempted a bow. “I am most honoured to serve under thee, my leader.”

I couldn’t stop the soft smile that appeared on my face. “At ease, my soldier. Let us finish eating. We’re going to get some new blood soon.”

Sergiu raised his head. A questioning look appearing on his face. Before he could inquire further, someone interrupted us.

“Hello,” a new voice said. “Forgive my interruption, sir.”

The person in question was a young man in his mid-twenties. He wore a technician’s overalls in the signature black of the brotherhood, complete with a flat top cap. His bright blue eyes were a certainly distinctive feature, along with his army regulate blonde hair.

“Ah,” I blinked. “And you are?”

He snapped into a salute. “Number 51, sir! I’m an MCV operator tasked with serving the Brotherhood. Under me, the cities of Nod will expand!”

I openly whooped. “Easy there, soldier boy. This isn’t a formal inspection.”

I patted the floor next to us. “Come and sit.”

He blinked. “Sit… with you sir? Will that be alright?”

“Do you see anyone here acting formal at the moment?” I deadpanned.

“No, sir,” he shook his head.

“Then, sit.”

He took his seat on my right. From there, I passed him my last piece of food, to which I had to force him to eat, much to Sergiu’s amusement. It was then I noticed the new faces appearing from the depths of the ConYard. Their appearance didn’t go unnoticed, and I saw how the militia openly cheered and welcomed their new brethren with open arms, much to the shock and confusion of the new arrivals.

“New blood, Sir?” Sergiu asked.

“Yup, figured they’d help with the MCV operations,” I finished the last of my food before turning to look at my newly acquainted pilot.

“So, you’re my pilot?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t be stiff, relax. The only one here who probably will eat you alive is Rain, and she’s still strapped in the medbay.”

“I appreciate your genuine concern, Master.”

I recoiled as if I’d been gut punched. My lips sucked in as I turned to see a familiar figure behind me. Her hand was on her hips as she looked down on me with all the ire a woman could muster.

Shuffling to my left alerted me to an act of abandonment. I looked with pleading eyes as a cool-faced Sergiu stood up and ushered the pilot to do the same. The two of them quickly disappeared into the crowd in front of the ConYard that was getting increasingly chaotic with every second. Leaving at the mercy of the woman behind me.

“I’m waiting,” she said, the tapping of her boot was like a countdown to a bomb.

‘I did no wrong, I swear!’ was what I wanted to say but failed to.

“Would you mind explaining why we an additional thirty homunculi onboard?”

To better uhm, conduct the interrogation. Rain had seen fit to move me back to my quarters. Under her orders, I was now in my seat and getting grilled for information.

I could’ve just countered by asking why EVA didn’t inform her, but I guess there must be some other reason I’m missing.

“With all due respect, I was given a valid point when EVA said that we couldn’t run the crawler all by ourselves even if we wanted too. Plus, I’m starting to realise that I didn’t made particularly good choices for company to begin with.”

“What happened to the ‘we must conserve as much of our funds as possible’?”

“We still are, mind you. It’s just that this would be a good investment to avoid unwanted complications. Plus, we could really use having more systems in the control room manned.”

Silence ensued as the two of us stared at each other. Admittedly, I got uncomfortable under her glare which was why it was a relief when she finally sighed and rubbed her eyes with her index and thumb. A softer expression replaced the frown.

“Do you have time at the moment?”

I gave it a good thought then nodded. I motioned for her to sit, and she willingly complied, taking her place on one of the two round seats in front of my desk.

“Just what is our plan at the moment, Master?” she asked, with a rather concerned tone.

“Same as yesterday,” I answered. “We find the Tiberium. Set up a base, and then build our forces as we expand further out.”

“I mean just what are supposed to do in this world?” she emphasised her tone grew increasingly worried. “I understand that as the Brotherhood of Nod, our concern is to the continued existence and growth of Tiberium, but is that all we’re going to do here?”

“What are you saying Rain?” I furrowed my brows. “I don’t get it.”

She sighed; her gaze fell. “I’m……. nervous. There’s so much banking on us, and too little in the way of guidelines for us to follow. We have no series of goals, neither do we have short or long term planning. What I’m saying is that this all feels meaningless, don’t you think?”

….. Well, that was a sour thought to be about, wasn’t it?

I saw no reason to correct her either. Outside of what we knew Nod as a faction was intended to do, we really had no goal was there? It was a distressing thought that certainly was without merit.

But what about what I said earlier to Sergiu? What about that? Was all that passionate speech about ‘not being lost anymore’ just an act? A way of self-delusion?

….. No.

Rain looked up at me. In turn, I looked at her. Once again, I summoned as much of that same fire that invigorated me earlier.

Placing both my hands forward and resting the lower half of my face on my interlocked fingers, I took a moment to compose myself before replying.

“No, we aren’t a meaningless existence. We’re out of our depth, and awfully unprepared to face our future, yes. But a certainty can’t be reached before we take a leap of faith, however that leap may manifest in due time.”

Breathe in, breathe out. “We will find a purpose for ourselves, Rain. I hate promises, but I will guarantee you. There is something for us out there for us to find and spurn us on. Tiberium is the answer, but it isn’t the true reason or meaning in our lives. That, is for us to uncover and decide.”

I stood up and extended my hand to Rain.

“I had intended a different approach and circumstance to do this, but I guess this is a good step forward as any.”

“Can I trust you Rain? Can I trust you to help me find the strength to uncover the purpose in our lives here? Will you help me become the person I need to be in order to shoulder any burden and exemplify the strength of Nod?”

Rain looked me in the eye, and then to my hand. She seemed to be locked in an internal struggle of her own before coming to a resolution of her own. Standing up, she maintained her gaze on me as she clasped my hand in a firm grip.

“I’ll endeavour to put my trust in you, my Master. Please allow me to be your pillar of support in these uncertain times.”

Hearing those words, I couldn’t hope but earnestly smile for the first time in this world. A warm feeling filled my chest as a result.

Though I can’t say what the future would hold for this iteration of Nod. I was certain enough that for the time being, I can work with the goal of finding a good enough purpose to propel my people forward. There had to be more to this, of course, but for the time being, I felt like I wasn’t just following an outline like in the stories I’ve read in my past life.

We released our handhold. Tapping the desk, I checked to see the time was already 8.45 pm. Still early into the night, but it wasn’t like we had anything left to do at the moment.

“You know, that vege-thing I ate earlier was kinda cool,” I turned to look at my aide. “Come on, let’s see if we can convince the guys for extras.”

Rain slowly raised her eyebrow. “A sudden change of topic, really now?”

I shrugged. “Ain’t no time like the present. Plus, I’m kinda still hungry you know.”

That was when it occurred to me.

“Hey,” I narrowed. “You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

“I’m perfectly capable of maintaining my own needs, Master.” She glared. “I’ll eat when I want to eat.”

I went around the table and quickly grabbed her hand once more.

“None of it!” I added with flair. “A master unable to see to the welfare of his servants is nothing more than a master of ineptitude and unworthy of their servants. Now, come! I must maintain your curves!”

“So, you admit to me being made me based in your desires!”

“Yes, and I’ll never tire of admitting that!”

A/N: WHOOO! I got it out! Man, this feels great.

So yeah, not much happening this time. But I like using chapters like this to build up my practice and expand my capability to write characters. Good stories take time, and rest assured there’s a timeline I’ve planned.

I really intent to explore Nod in a way that I believe it could’ve gone if things played out better. The mod Twisted Insurrection for C&C: Tiberian Sun is proof that Nod CAN play a bigger role if it wanted to. All I ask is your support and patience as we explore.

See you next chap!

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: In Repentance

Our journey resumed for the next four days uninterrupted.

In that time, much effort was taken into familiarising myself with my duties, along with that what was expected of others around me. Rain had been of great help in that regard as she guided me in familiarising myself with the general idea of leadership and its practices.

Reasonably, one may think that it all boils down to managing the big picture and giving out the orders. However, I find that concept too simplistic and also not accountable of the finer scopes of my duties. Such mindset was what led to the dune incident, and I refused to repeat a mistake so blatant and on a greater level in the future.

Hence, as I awaited our arrival at the destination, I spent much of my time reading through the files in the black box. Again, an exercise in familiarisation, and one more important if I intend to establish Nod as a prominent force and entity on whatever planet we were currently on.

Worse comes to worse, we’d have to expect a full-blown conflict upon first contact.

At my most optimistic, we’re already under close monitoring and can expect judgement from above raining down on us at any time.

Alas, it was all senseless worry until we could find more info on our situation. In accordance with that, I’d given Rain her first task, which was to manage the alert level as she saw fit until we reach the destination. I elaborated on that task further by telling her to inform me first of any developing situation before the men, in case of a false alarm.

So, here I was, having woken up and washed myself before putting on a new set of clothes. This being a proper Nod BDU but without the ranks, leaving only the Scorpion Tail on both sides of the collar and the upper portion of the sleeves. My hair was combed, and shoes fastened with immense hope they wouldn’t come undone by themselves.

That would be a very bad sign.

An electronic blare alerted me to the resident intelligence.

“Commander,” EVA called.

“EVA,” I replied, not bothering to look at my desk as I finished the fine-tuning of my own appearance. “How was last night? Anything to report?”

“Negative,” it informed. “Our seismic sensors have not detected any disturbance within a fifty-kilometre radius around the MCV. Electronic and radar sensors also have yielded no new results in the last six hours.”

“What about the droppings?”

“Disposal sensor pods have also returned negative.”

I grunted in confirmation.

Travelling this desert must be playing tricks on me. For the past two days, I’d been having EVA drop disposable sensor pods every twenty kilometres we covered. These pods were roughly three meters wide and lasted about four hours each. We’d usually lose connection with a pod within three hours due to distance and how deliberately poor the construction was. In addition to its shape and name, I’d intended for them to be buried and forgotten altogether with future finders being none the wiser.

Stretching my fingers until I heard a satisfying pop, I turned on my heel and approached the desk. I grabbed the Wrist Tool which sat vertical on its charging base on the table, before clasping it to my arm. Unlike before, I’d managed to fiddle with the straps so that I could have screen positioned on the side of my arm parallel with my thumb. A more comfortable position as opposed to the standard position directly on the forearm.

I walked out of my quarters. Immediately, I was greeted with the familiar hallway that made up the length of the officer’s level on the MCV. I turned left to head to the elevator, but stopped in my tracks and turned my head to look the other way.

Beyond the corridor of my room was Rain’s. Like mine, the edges of the corridor extruded outwards just ever so slightly within the honeycomb shaped hallways of the crawler. I tried peaking to see if it was locked but soon decided against it.

‘Knowing her, she’d already be in the control centre after getting who knows how little hours of sleep,’ I grumbled in my head.

She was dedicated, but it bothered on being insensible. She was a walking trope and I was sure just about anyone could see that. I had a lot to work for if I wanted to keep her.

More than a sweet for the eye.

I approached the lift and proceeded to enter the moment the doors opened. As I looked at the panel for available floors, a thought occurred to me.

Should I go see how the other floors were faring?

It wasn’t an unsound thought. I’d spent much of my time holed up in the upper levels, between planning out what we would do upon reaching the Tiberium source, along with designing schemes to integrate ourselves into the world, the most I’d gotten was the usual reports from EVA on how the rest of the crawlers’ sub-modules were operating. Why, outside of the control room staff, I don’t think I got to meet any of the other staffs.

That felt really concerning. Hence, I resolved to descend and approach each floor.

“EVA,” I addressed. “Tell Rain I’m going to see how the staff are faring. I’ll join her in the control room later.”

“Confirmed.”

My first stop was the level below me which housed the medical bay and engineering bay. The latter was empty for the most part and didn’t really serve any real purpose as of now. The former was occupied by our only two medical staff.

Stepping into the room, I noticed a certain change in the air. Before, it was dry and warm due to the A/C not being properly fixed. Now, I could sniff the distinctive sterile air more associated with places where the art of medicine was practiced.

“Ah, commander,” a voice, slightly rough, and full of awareness. “Come to visit me at such an opportune time, as is.”

I turned my head to see the man standing at the left end of the room. His pristine white outfit, which was a cross between an overall and a doctor’s coat, was contrasted by the dark shadow below him courtesy of overhead lights. The man was leaned over, inspecting the internal circuitry of a cylindrical machine, with his back to me.

“White,” I greeted. “Seems you’ve been keeping yourself busy.”

“Only because this is the most featureless job on this oversized bug at the moment.”

He continued his work, uncaring of my presence. Placing the cover panel back in place and securing it, he then got to work in opening the vertical below. Gloved hands making short work of finding the screws he’d need to remove.

At the same time, I took a look around the medical bay. Immediately, I noticed the other staff member missing. I presumed he must be elsewhere before turning back to him.

“So, what does the senior med-tech have to say about the place.”

“It’s an utter clutter of poorly arranged equipment and materials. There are field hospitals that probably do better, and early-stage drug rings that come with better secured stations and production lines.”

As if to emphasise, the space around us suddenly shifts into that of an incline. It almost went past me as I instinctively widened my stance and lowered my posture in accordance with the change; a habit developed over the long voyage.

The same couldn’t be said of the wares within the room. That everything seemed to be on the verge of calamity was borderline nerve-wracking. I felt my heartbeat quickened at each clink of glass on glass, along with the subtle sounds of wheels rolling in place. My head visibly twitched at the cacophony of noises, akin to unseen insects migrating all at once over a short distance.

Eventually, space seemed to right itself and we were back on even ground, but not before every item and equipment in the room seemed to follow suit with the shift in centre of gravity, earning another eye twitch from me.

White merely huffed at the spectacle.

“Please tell me we haven’t already loss supplies due to this,” I grumbled.

“Surprisingly no,” came the man’s answer as he got to work repacking his tools. “Some luck we must have, considering that screw up you had before the rest of us were conceived.”

I winced. “So, you heard of that one.”

“So, I did,” he stood up. “More than half of the men you have here are nothing more than half-brained orcs with guns. Only few of them are at least smart enough to keep their rifle barrels away from their toes.”

He stood and turned; his dark, apathetic eyes stared at me.

“Then, there’s you,” he approached me. “Quite the speech, I heard you gave the men.”

His steps were…., planned, for lack of better term.

Each click of his boots was an attempt on my nerves. I could feel it.

Beneath the light of the medical bay, his clean-shaven scalp served to somehow reflect light away from his eyes. Yet, I could never miss his gaze.

It was ambitious. Ravenous.

I willed every bit of self to not shift one centimetre back, matching him as best I can with my own gaze.

“A necessary act to encourage improved performance from the men,” I replied coolly.

“I’m sure they could follow just as well if you never showed my face.” White retorted. “However, I like to imagine it must be gratifying to see them scream your name than Kane’s. Isn’t that it?”

“Fanatics have very little place in my army.”

“An out of season April Fool’s joke, commander?” the med-tech scoffed. “Gonna have to do better than that.”

“….,”

“What? No retort?”

I turned heel and started walking. Counting, I took several steps forward as my eyes seem to drift from sight to sight. A gentle rumble was the only reminder of our current mobile state. Almost idly, I placed my hands on my hips. The left index flipping the holster next to it.

Tempting, tempting.

I wasn’t a good shot, but I didn’t need to be give how close the target was. It wouldn’t have done me any good, sadly. Hence, I resorted to a different tactic.

“…. Tell me. Are the men in good shape?”

“…. Pardon?”

“I’m asking a question, Fifty-Three. Are my men fit for service?”

“….. The soldiers are in top shape if that’s what you’re asking. Don’t see a reason why they should be anything else given their physiology.”

“They’re still based on living people from one point. If any of them have any circumstance that debilitates then I need to know early.”

“That’s not how we homunculi work.”

This time I turned around. “That’s how I work, but unlike them I’d suggest you don’t get too in-character, White.”

I allowed myself to be brought up close to him by my own two legs. My jaw sliding back and forth, before letting out a steady breath.

“Afterall, last thing I think you’d want is another Felina, don’t you think?”

“….,”

“You should be right by all accounts, Fifty-three,” a wide empty smile emerges on my face. “It’s not how homunculi work. “Backstories are just excuses for the difference in emotional range for each new unit. Flavour text if you will.”

“Still,” I said as I circled him. “You’re just a character on the stage. Same as the rest of them. Like them, you have your part, and I have mind.”

My smile never faded as I stood next to him and whispered.

“So, don’t overdo yourself, understand?”

The med-tech’s face was set into a neutral expression. I wasn’t sure if I’d broke him, forced the geass to take action, or made an enemy of my own man at worst. Perhaps, a mix of the three was plausible.

When mentioning the nature of the geass, EVA knew next to nothing of it and only had the same word found repeatedly within the black box’s contents for reference. Rain had only a basic understanding of it as well that was roughly on the same level as me. What was understood, however, was that we wouldn’t have to worry of a possible rebellion within Nod.

A very convenient tool, but one where the elaboration would have to come from experiments in the field. Dangerous experiments. Such was the case with White; a man who was based on a drug kingpin now serving as my senior medical staff. Admittedly, I was tempted to grow his assistant, but soon decided against it. For even if these men were made to be submissive to me, the same couldn’t be said for others.

This was yet a strong reminder to never let my guard down. Lest I find out that my subordinates got too eager in shaping Nod and later having to clean up after their messes.

I took several steps forward before turning to look at the man behind me once more.

“I want to do a medical exam. Can you do that at least?”

He wordlessly nodded and got to work.

An hour later, I stepped out of the medical bay. I couldn’t hold back the tired sigh that escaped my lips. Playing the part of a callous, calculated leader to different subordinates can be tiring, even more so when their made from less than morally good characteristics.

What an irony I must say, given my own words previously.

White was a man who surprised me as I was going through the list of personnel assigned to the MCV. Upon questioning EVA, it mentioned that the character given to each homunculus was randomised based on a large pool that the cloning program had access to.

A lesser man could say it was coincidence. I say it was fate.

I concluded that I had to be on my toes around him, even if there was a failsafe in case of defiance. That meant having to be ‘nice’ as much as I can.

Gathering my wits, I set out to find the others within the crawler. I approached the corner leading to the lift just in time to meet the other man that was also in charge of the medical room.

His bright uniform bumped into mine. Our shoulders pushed away from each other like two magnets colliding.

“Oh!” the man then gasped. “I’m sorry sir! I didn’t see where I was going.”

“At ease, Benedict,” I raised a hand. “It’s no concern.”

I took a good look at the man before me. He was different from White in all respects. His long brown hair done into a simple ponytail, and his features appeared less hardened. Nervous green eyes looked in my direction whilst at the same time trying every bit to avoid my own.

At least I’ll know something went wrong if I ever find his body, at least.

“I didn’t see you in the med bay earlier. Care to explain?”

“Well, you see,” he shifted in place. “I, uhm, sort of got hungry and went down into the main bay for a snack.”

“Didn’t think of your partner?”

“Oh, I did actually,” he then held up a paper bag he’d been carrying. “Didn’t know what he’d like. So, I packed a bunch of stuff that I hope he’ll like.”

“Hm,” I pondered a bit on his words. Then asked, “So how do you find your partner anyways?”

“Oh, you mean White?” he blinked. “He’s kinda moody, but I don’t find all that troublesome. He keeps to himself a lot, even during medical procedures. He’s really good at that, though. Just wondering how he’d gotten this job compared to anyone else.”

‘How indeed,’ I mentally agreed.

“Well,” I patted him. “Send a report if you run into in the future. As a matter of fact, don’t be hesitant to inform me if there’s anything you feel that’s wrong in your department. See you then.”

Benedict nodded and wished me goodbye as well as we went our separate ways. Boarding the elevator, I made for my next destination.

The main fabricator bay was a breath of fresh air went compared to the sterile, gloomy atmosphere of medical. It was also rather lively considering how many people were in here.

The main floor reminded me of the assembly areas back in college. Everyone here was essentially on idle until we reached our destination. With a severe lack of vehicles to work with, the Militia had to make do sharing space with the engineers and technicians. The men tried their best to get out of each other’s way, but like me, they were eager to reach our destination and settle down for real.

“Ey, Boss,” a familiar voice called out. “What brings you here?”

I turned to greet. “Hassan, good to see you this morning. So, how are things this morning?”

He shrugged. “Same old. Some of the hardhats got mad when the guys started doing their business. You think we could get some fresh air soon?”

“All in due time, my man,” my lips curved. “All in due time.”

“Hear, hear.”

An angry blare filled the air.

Both our heads turned up at the source of the sound. A second later, realisation kicked in.

An alarm.

With it, urgency filled the space around us as men scrambled to their stations. Militia leaders barked orders and got their men into gear. Engineers and technicians coordinated their own preparations against the oncoming storm.

I turned to look at Hassan once more.

“Your unit, now,” I ordered.

The man didn’t bother to wait as he ran. I followed his movements for a bit before brisk walking towards the elevator myself. A thousand thoughts running through my head at once.

An attack? Possible, but how did they get past the sensors?

Stealth? Then we’re already screwed.

Maybe something else. A settlement perhaps? However, that raises the question why we didn’t encounter any early signs of one, such as caravans or smoke pillars. Even then, Rain wouldn’t go so far as to raise an alarm, which led back to the first possibility.

I could feel my hands getting sweaty with every possibility that went through my mind. With each step, my heart seemed to pulse even harder than before. I ended taking a deep breath as I entered the elevator and the doors closed behind me.

The wait to the top felt like an eternity.

“EVA,” I summoned the intelligence through the WMT. “Give me a breakdown what’s going on.”

“Commander, our scans have detected an energy anomaly approximately 120km and closing in from the northeast.”

‘That would be our left,’ I conjectured. ‘It’ll probably be visible if we’d already cleared the dunes.’

Before I slept last night, the intelligence had informed we were taking a minor course correction to avoid a rather large dune that served as a natural impasse in our path. Considering our last debacle, I simply thanked it for informing me before dozing off. What I did remember though, was that the crawler had turned east in hopes of going around it.

When the elevator reached the top, I didn’t bother waiting for the doors to fully open and simply slipped through the crack the moment it was wide enough for me to go through it.

In front of me, I was met with a tense silence. The control room was manned by a total of six operators manning a station each, forming a full staff. Rain was hunched over one of the tables observing the pixels as they moved about the screen. Occasionally, she’d manipulate the image to better suit her view.

“Rain,” I addressed. “What are we looking.”

“Dust cloud, approaching in front of us. Not a natural weather phenomenon.”

“Radar? IFF?”

“Negative.”

“Then what are we facing then.”

By this point, I’d approached the table she loomed over and was looking at the expanded digital map she had been fiddling with. I could see our current projected path drawn in a crooked line with a still image of the crawler, along with dotted lines running parallel on the same path, but most notably away from the oncoming unknown marked as an arrow with a circle around it and topped off with question mark at its centre.

“I’m not sure, but I’m not taking any chances either,” she straightened herself then indicated to the alternate paths. “I’m working with EVA to try and generate an alternate path for us to travel around the anomaly. Climbing the dunes just won’t work in our current situation, we’re likely to slip and render ourselves immobile.”

I nodded at her assessment. Licking my lips, I left her side to continue planning our manoeuvre and moved to the front next to the pilot.

From behind the wide viewport, I could only make out the dune to our left that steadily decreased in height the further it went out into the far distance. The scenery I envisioned was the unknown coming down the left, armed to the teeth and packing weapons that’d blow us sky high. I could chalk it up to how vulnerable we are as a force by our lonesome. With no friendly force to screen us, all it took was a bad encounter and we’d be done for.

The current situation was one such example.

“Hell of a way to break the monotone, eh commander.”

I looked at the pilot. The man was still seated, with his hands on the yokes of the steel beast. I stared at him for a bit before turning to the front.

“Got any experience you could share with us, my good man?”

He shrugged. “I only served in two instances back in TibWar 3. Got blown sky high on my second run by a Scrin bomber.”

That caught my attention, and I looked back at him with a raised eyebrow.

“How the hell did that happen? I thought crawlers were protected most of the time.”

“They are sir. However, my commander was in a tight fix when we were engaging the Scrin. He sent me off with a light escort in hopes we’d either provide a tasteful distraction or somehow sneaked past them.”

“I’m guessing the enemy’s eyes were a tad better than he was expecting.”

“HA!” the man barked. “The only good thing about that day was watching his base burn down from the distance. Had a nice seat even from atop a Tiberium glacier whilst bleeding out.”

The man’s jovial tone was concerning, but I could tell that he was just being realistic of his own expectations as of now. For that, I couldn’t blame him.

“Well, keep driving until then, Mr. Pilot,” I patted his headrest. “We’ll talk more later.”

“Aye, commander.”

With our little conversation done, I turned to regard the other occupants in the room. Rain was still discussing something with what assumed was EVA, given the hushed whispers. Most of the other occupants in the room were engaged in their own tasks.

Still, I suppose a quick chat with just one other person shouldn’t bother the whole lot too much.

My eyes were fixed on one operator on the far left, facing away from the viewport. They were stationed behind a large hemisphere display which I assumed to be the radar station. Unsurprisingly, the whole setup was a lighter shade of red with white lines along its surface dictating units and measurements.

I approached the person with intent. Nodding in acknowledgement to the co-pilot who took notice of my presence. As I neared, I noticed the immediate differences between this person and the rest of the staff.

Her beret was one that matched Rain’s. If that wasn’t enough, then the obvious feminine face was a dead giveaway. She had her eyes trained on the readouts on her station, despite the fact it currently was about as good as a car’s radio in the middle of nowhere.

Noticing me, she turned her head just enough to address me.

“Commander.”

“At ease,” I addressed. “Hope I’m not interrupting you.”

“Not at all, sir. Just… fine tuning yet again.”

My lips twitched. “Not much to do now, yeah?”

“Truthfully sir, it’s a better job than my last one.”

“I see. So, which war?”

“TibWar 2. I served as liaison for a base in Southern Europe. GDI overwhelmed us one day, and I found my end whilst trying to coordinate the evacuation.”

“Got any advice for our current predicament?”

She pondered for a bit. Her eyes seemed distant before she turned to me and spoke.

“It may be in our best interest to lay low and observe the unknown’s movements. Some of Nod’s most devastating losses were from GDI being able to track us back to our own bases. Let it be known that carelessness led to many crushing defeats on both sides of the war.”

I nodded at her advice and motioned her to return to her own work. Turning on my heel, I walked a distance away to give space between us. I sucked on my lips whilst pondering on the things I heard up until now.

We were still moving forward despite the danger, and something told me that conflict was inevitable anyways. However, resources dedicated to this engagement could be costly, and I highly doubt we could recycle them like we do our own structures.

Yet, the thought of potential violence continued was starting to get a rise out of me. It was actually disturbing to a certain degree. I never saw myself as one quick to inflict harm, and the most I’d ever acted on such impulse was through games along with the occasional bouts of frustration.

“Damn it,” Rain muttered.

Speaking of frustration, I noted that my aide was at her wits end. Which given our circumstances, I figured that she would’ve reached it much sooner. Truly, I praise her a lot for her diligence.

“I suppose we don’t have any other choice, do we?”

She turned to look at me standing at the opposite end of the table. I could feel the smile on my face that wasn’t fullhearted, and saw how it affected her greatly, it seemed.

“I’m sorry.”

“No,” I shook my head. “Don’t be. You’ve done well, but fate has forced our hands. If there must be blood, then let it be our enemies that stain these sands.”

My focus then shifted to the pilots.

“Unpack the crawler,” I ordered. “Have the entrance facing in the direction of the unknowns.”

A duet of acknowledgments came from the men. Rain gave me a look and I met her gaze once more.

“Commander are we really doing this?” she asked.

“No other choice the way I see it.” I sighed.

Her lips thinned. “This will drain resources that we can’t get back.”

“I’m aware.”

She nodded at this. Her gaze fell for a moment before she turned to look at me once more.

“May I advise at the very least producing Dawn era attack buggies for this engagement. I’d suggest attack bikes as well, but those require trained crew to operate.”

“Noted, but sadly denied,” I replied. “Stick to our pre-Dawn assets. However, I want both a Hand and Vehicle Assembly, and I want them deployed now.”

She nodded and got to work. In the meantime, I worked my WMT and queued the units I wanted for this fight. It was certainly a far cry from a real Nod force, but as a certain messiah once put it, Nod being a shadow of itself is exactly how it should be.

Yet, as I figured, there’s a reason for why even grown men feared shadows in the dark.

Within the space of an hour, I’d say that we had done pretty well in building a reasonable force.

By an all accounts, it was small as far as raiding parties go, but if it could at the very least divert the course of whatever was generating the sandstorm, then perhaps we may have a chance of slipping past and continuing on our way. Otherwise, we may buy ourselves some time.

Thinking on the matter, it was clear as day that I was sending these men to their deaths. Apart of me was admittedly horrified at the thought, and perhaps that was really why I discretely skipped on giving any speeches before their departure. Not that I thought it would be appropriate given the time we had.

The Vehicle Assembly Facility was the first to be built. As its name suggested, it forged reliable machines of war from its cramped rooms that covered an area of some twenty square metres of land. Of which, all manner of machinery was crammed together with barely the space to work. Obviously, this also meant we had an upper limit of what we could produce, but considering it was only expected to spit out repurposed frames with weapons attached, I’d say it was doing an amazing job.

From the moment it was built, vehicle after vehicle was being produced, mainly the aforementioned repurposed semi-trucks and armed all-terrain bikes. Both shared similarities in the form of all-terrain wheels that looked oversized for the vehicles they were attached to. Where the similarities ended, however, were the armaments.

The larger vehicles sported Heavy Machine Guns mounted on stands and bolted onto the flatbed, whereas the bike had rocket pods mounted on the sides of the chassis.

Together, these vehicles were the very incarnation of the Nod war doctrine. That being, to hit hard and fast then scurry into hiding, waiting to strike again.

The reactions from the men had been varied at first, but, overall, there was widespread eagerness for the mere possibility that this could end in a fight. Then, when they had gotten a chance to try the vehicles in full earnest, excitement practically saturated the air, and the squad leaders had to double down extra to get the men back to being an organised bunch.

I was outside on the extended platform of the ConYard watching as the assembled interception force rode off to meet the anomaly. My very being was a swirl with emotions as the dust left in their wake; fear, anxiety and sense of eagerness that refused to be carried off into the wind. The chorus of cheers and whoops did little to dissuade my worries.

Not all were sent of course. We’d only had time to make so many vehicles at once, and it was better anyways to leave some fighters within the ConYard in case anything went wrong. Those left behind were preparing what meagre defences we could muster. Namely, barricades and makeshift fighting positions with aid of the ConYard staff whom all were armed with mainly pistols and whatever else that could be in any way lethal.

“Master, we should head inside.”

I turned to see Rain approach. She wore a combat vest over her shirt, but still chose to keep the long coat on her person. Her face was set in a neutral expression devoid of emotion.

I nodded. “Yes, we should.”

Our journey back inside was a quiet affair amidst the storm of activity around the bay. The men were doing their best to keep themselves busy in the wake of potential combat. Admittedly, a small part of me wondered how many among them were more experienced than others.

 I shook my head to clear these stray thoughts. Now was not the time.

“Master?”

“Nothing Rain. I’m just giddy.”

I figured the matter was dropped there. I didn’t expect her to actually press it.

“If it’s about the current situation, I can assure you that we’re all doing the best we can. Should anything happen, my life will be laid down first before any of them could get to you.”

“Very encouraging, Rain,” I sighed. “Very encouraging.”

We boarded the elevator and pressed the button to ascend.

I took a deep breath to try and steady my nerves. My breath hitched when I felt something brush against my left hand. On reflex, my head snapped to the source to find my aide standing behind me, her hand pulled back. I caught her worried look, but something about it made me feel all but disgruntled.

I could feel my brows furrow. My nose twitched at a non-existent itch.

“Don’t. Touch. Suddenly,” was what I said.

The doors opened and I immediately exited the moment I could fit through the gap. Consciously, I worked to breath in and out as much as I could to keep the storm in me calm. A familiar pressure on the sides of my head was a sign of my rising tension.

My attention drew to the table on the right which was still projecting real time footage of the outside. Some part of me wondered how much time had really passed since we’d deployed and finished production of our new units, and a flashed of panic flooded me that I’d just sent my men into an awaiting trap. One good appraisal of the screen informed otherwise, and I felt a rush of calmness flood my being upon seeing a timer for the intercept. Using both hands, I manipulated the image on the table so that it now showed only our forces and that of the unknown.

The clicking of boots alerted me to Rain’s presence. She took her place by my side at the shorter end of the table to my right. Her face set once more in a neutral façade.

A stab in the heart, and a tugging in the soul.

“Commander, unknown unit sighted.” EVA reported.

“On screen,” I said as I turned to face the wall in the opposite direction of the viewport. As we lack any real intelligence gathering assets, the best we could do was use special cameras mounted on the vehicles, namely the ones mounted on each gun of every technical, and the helmets of the attack bikes.

Upon seeing the first images that appeared on screen, only one sentence entered my mind.

“What the hell?”

When Hassan was reborn into this life, he didn’t ask for much.

Not money. Not food, or shelter.

What he wanted most was a chance to do away with his life a little bit fuller than before.

It was the same wish he had back when he was alive.

This body, he knew, was a mere fancy imitation of a human function. Food was welcomed, but he knew that it was not necessary. Water was gladly accepted, although he could probably last for a long while without it just as fine. That left only stamina, and even then, it was more of a force of habit then anything.

All these things were general knowledge to the homunculus. Albeit, he had been told that it was better not to think too hard on just who had given him this knowledge, or the knowledge itself for that matter.

The request was mindboggling, but Hassan didn’t see fit to question. It wasn’t his place to do so.

Besides, his new leader was nice. Perhaps, a bit too nice when compared to the one he served with back in the Old World. Yet, he and his brethren welcomed it all the same.

Now, they get to repay their leader’s kindness by seeking out this possible threat. Who knows? Maybe they’ll even get a chance to destroy it if the need arises. Which, given the tense atmosphere throughout the ConYard, seemed possible.

As his Technical jumped over yet another low-lying mound, the strange dust cloud in the distance grew increasingly larger. From where he stood on the flatbed mounting the gun, he had a clear view of the small force assembled to meet the unknown.

It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing to say the least. It consisted of six technicals with twice that many bikes. Had these vehicles been up to Nod standards, any opposition commander could certainly kiss their harvesting operation goodbye. Now, however, it would be a miracle if even one of them got back in one piece.

“Approaching target, lock and load, everyone!”

Hearing the order coming through the earpiece, the militiaman pulled the charging handle of his weapon. A jolt raced up his hands as the moment of truth arrived. His stance became increasingly erratic as adrenaline bled from his legs in the form of repeatedly repositioning his footing to match the uneven terrain the technical was traversing.

That was when it happened.

The cloud of dust that had spooked his superiors back on the MCV had started dissipating. Exiting the clouds was what could only be described as a large, curved surface, with the bottom half being wider than the top and at an incline. This was followed by a long body that ended in a flat end at the back. Two extensions could be seen jutting out just near the rear of the vessel, akin to wings.

“What is that?!”

“How should I know?”

“It’s gotta be like thirty metres long.”

“Geez, look at the size of that thing.”

The thing that appeared could only be best described as a floating isle. The hull -assuming his eyes weren’t deceiving him- was what he assumed to be wood, with sponsons jutting out of the lower half of the hull. The sand being blown away from the hull at these sponsons was what he assumed to be a result of the ships propulsion system.

“Command to all units,” the Mistress voice appeared over the radio. “Confirm exactly just what are we facing.”

“Command, Leader Three,” Sergiu responded. “The unknown appears to be some sort of landship. Cameras should be giving a clean broadcast.”

Another voice, this time the Commander’s.

“Confirm, Four. Does anyone see any occupants?”

Silence filled the comms, and Hassan took this opportunity to appraise the strange craft. Sadly, he could hardly see if there was any life within the craft due to how high it floated off the ground. The dust displaced by the thing’s engines wasn’t helping either.

“Negative,” someone replied. “Can’t see shit.”

“….. Circle the craft for now,” Mistress spoke back once more. “Try and get the crews attention.”

“Roger,” Sergiu replied.

Things became quite for a bit after that. Outside of the roar of numerous engines and the ships giant engines, the ship and its newly gained escorts continued to traverse the sands peacefully. The only major event worth noting was when half the force spilt away to cover the ships other flank, effectively pinning it on two fronts.

At the ten-minute mark, the silence was broken.

“Commander, there’s no sign this thing is going to stop,” First Squad’s leader spoke. “Request permission to engage.”

Another minute of silence.

“Confirmed, Squad One,” their leader replied. “Last chance, shoot the bow and get their attention for real.”

They were close to the dune that was keeping the Crawler hidden from plain sight. Not wasting anymore time, the gunner on the lead technical swerved his armament to point at the front of the ship.

 A brief stream of lead filled the air between the two vehicles, drawing a jagged diagonal line on this ships surface. Despite its initially smooth texture, the wood that made up the craft must’ve been far more fragile than was thought as holes larger than Hassan’s own fist were formed with every successful hit.

The effect was immediate. The floating craft began to slow and visibly turn on its axis. Every vehicle that had been following it up until that time immediately swerved to avoid the wake cause by its sudden movements.

Eventually, the craft came to a stop above the sand over the edge of the dune. The milita was quick to form a semi-circle around it, trapping it between a steep drop and the armed group.

Save for the idle humming of engines, there followed another tense silence. Only, it was shorter than before.

From previously hidden ports, one too many cannons appeared. Hassan was no fast counter, but there was no way he could mistake what three lines worth of guns stacked on top of one another would look like.

He also seemed to not be the only one to have reached the same conclusion.

“Gun!” someone shouted.

That was when all hell broke loose.

Rockets and bullets flew through the air tore the side of the craft facing them. Hassan didn’t care too much where he shot so long as it was in the general direction of the craft and was actually hitting something. However, he did make a point to aim at places that weren’t already gaping holes courtesy of the rockets from the attack bikes.

The sheer amount of firepower they were throwing down range eventually hit something important. A huge ball of fire erupted from the midsection of the craft above the base, followed by a shockwave that forced everyone to cease fire and stiffen themselves lest they get carried off their feet. When they turned to look once more, they were met with a breath-taking site.

The craft was still miraculously floating. Albeit in flames and was clearly listing to one side. Groans exited from the strained frame of the large vessel like those from a dying animal.

Groans that were accompanied by screams. Human screams.

Hassan’s blood ran cold.

Alas, there was too late to ponder on the matter. The massive craft finally listed and fell down the steep side of the dune and into the path of the Crawler. A final explosion sent both sand and debris into the air, forcing some of the militia to reflexively raise their hands to shield themselves.

A pressure in his head was the only thing the militiaman felt in the quiet atmosphere that followed. For a moment, he refused to believe that his body could positively shiver underneath the heat of the desert. Yet, as he looked down at his shaking knuckles that held a death grip on the spade handles of the gun, he was proven wrong.

“All units,” the radio crackled to life; it was Mistress. “Status.”

“Leader One here. Unknown has been destroyed. No casualties.”

There was a pause before a new line.

“Understood. Get down and encircle the wreckage site. We have a detachment from security on route along with the Commander.”

It took a certain amount of will to make himself release the death grip he had on the handles. He stood with legs braced and hands on his knees, allowing himself a deep intake of air followed by the pressure in his head finally lessening. Around him, he looked to see that the other gunners had also entered a laxed state or mimicked him in some ways, the same with the attack bike riders.

Together, they took their time admiring the large pillar of smoke created from the destruction they’d wrought.

I looked on amazed at the wreckage in front of us.

The fire was still going strong when we arrived. Looking at its intensity, and then to the extinguisher in my hand, I was quick to feel inadequate for the task at hand.

That was the moment the others made their presences more prominent. Obviously, we’d packed more than one fire extinguisher for the job, seeing as how a second explosion had occurred right before we arrived at the site in earnest. Now, all those extra canisters were being put to good use as the men present fought to snuff the inferno as much as possible before it could reach deeper into the ship and damage something that may be of use to us.

I aided as much as I could, but we eventually settled for just keeping the flames contained long enough for the fire to die out on its own. As the ship had fallen on its side, some braver individuals had decided to go ahead and climb over the gunwale to reach the deeper parts of the ship. A part of me worried for another explosion, but, as the fire finally died down, that worry faded along with it.

That left us with the remains of the 30-metre vessel. Utterly lifeless and charred from the inside out.

It was also around this time when the interception force returned and surrounded the wreckage. The MCV lumbered behind us and plopped down. Not even bothering to unpack.

I and many others continued to look on, amazed as we were beholding the strange ship. I had my assumptions as to what it could be, but at the same time, I noticed key features on what remained of the bow and aft section that didn’t line up with the features of a certain luxury ship in a galaxy far, far away.

Rain at some point appeared at my side. Her features calm and sharp as a blade. In contrast, mine softened despite the desert heat bearing down on me at the sight of her.

“Hey Rain,” I called out.

“Master,” she greeted back.

“Quite a catch we’d gotten, eh?” I motioned towards the downed vessel. “Wonder what we’ll find inside.”

“We should be quick if we wish to search the wreckage,” was her blunt assessment. “There’s no telling if this ship is an independent, or whether it belongs to an entity we’re not aware of.”

“Do our sensors detect anything at the moment?”

“No,” she shook her head. “When the ship made itself known, the dust storm seemingly disappeared along with it. So far, me and EVA can’t exactly point out just why a ship of this size would be travelling in the desert by its lonesome.”

“Well then,” I turned to look at the smoking remains. “Guess we better find out quickly then.”

It would be another hour before EVA deemed it was safe enough for us to try entering the vessel. Still, we’d taken preparations in the form of environmental suits and climbing gear to better traverse the inside of the ship.

In the meantime, the technical and attack bikes were given the task of keeping overwatch of our surroundings. Of the twenty-six remaining men present, ten of those consisting of Squads Two and Five were ordered to help in exploring the vessel, along with technicians from the ConYard.

Despite Rain’s vehement disapproval, I went ahead and joined the expeditionary group. I was clad in the same suit as the rest of the men, trying my best to ignore the discomfort caused by the early evening rays as we made our way inside.

My heartbeat paced with every effort made to get into the vessel. The flames had eaten up more than half of the ship’s entirety from one end to another, leaving the front and back connected by what amounts to a thin strip of wood that had no hope of maintaining the shape of the vessel if it were upright.

Inside, we were greeted with an almost otherworldly sight. The sun’s rays didn’t really reach the ‘floor’ of the interior since the smoke from the fire had yet to fully dissipate. What little was seen, though, was burnt to a crisp, including the metal bits of what I’d assumed remained of the ship’s cannons. Large columns of wood that laid in pieces were all that remained of the ship’s superstructure, along with planks that had once been the ship’s lower decks.

The men began to spread around to inspect the deeper part. I made to follow, but ended getting a fright as I lost my footing.

CRACK!

The ground below me gave way. Narrowly catching myself on one of the black surfaces, I turned my gaze down to see just I’d stepped on.

Agony was what I saw.

Black bone. A crushed black skull more appropriately. The owner laid on its side shrivelled up in an almost perfect foetal position.

He wasn’t alone.

Were my eyes just opening, or was it just had been my own awareness not clicking sooner? I couldn’t tell. What I did know, however, was that I wasn’t just standing in a ship.

I was standing in a ship that had been full of people.

People I didn’t know, but people all the same. People that had died under the barest implication that they’d threaten my subordinates. My heart seemed to sink into my chest as more and more it dawned on me of the wrong, I’d just committed.

Something pulled on my shoulder, pulling me away from my growing apprehension. My head turned to look at the man behind me. From how close he was, I could see his eyes through the gas mask he wore. They were filled with a degree of understanding. Yet, I could tell he was mildly impatient.

Looking at the body once more, I inhaled deeply and steeled my nerves. There was no time to stay rooted in fear, was what I told myself. I could reflect on this later.

CRASH!!

Smoke filled my vision. A hundred curses soon followed.

I used a hand to wipe the soot off my visor. Against my better judgement, I willed myself forward and began climbing over beams and board, moving further into the vessel.

I nearly bumped into another man as I did so, holding both arms outstretched and grasping him for support in the dark. I must’ve given him a fright, he turned out to be quick to calm down and turned to face me. It was then I noticed that he was the leader of Squad Two. That alone was good enough to give me an idea of where I was, since the squad in question was tasked with the midsection of the ship.

“What happened!” I called out, but no immediate answer was given.

“Hey, report!” the squad leader barked out.

“The damn wall collapsed!” someone called out from deep within the ship. “Bloody hell, you are sure we should be in here?”

“Do your job, mutt!” the leader snapped. He then turned to me, expectation in his eyes.

I looked over his shoulder at the rest of the men under his charge. Most had already gotten over the recent surprise and were back to scrounging around the ship. I motioned with a nod for him to continue whatever he was doing.

By now, just about everyone involved in searching the ship was already inside. Save for two men who were tasked with keeping watch from our point of entry. The dust had settled again, and I could see more than a dozen man making their way to the back of the vessel.

Inhaling once, I turned to make my way to my own destination. That being, the rearend of the vessel where Squad Five should be trying to get find what we hoped to be the captain’s quarters.

As I stepped forward, I heard another sickening crack beneath me. I winced, but didn’t bother to look down, knowing I’d be trapping myself in another downward spiral of gloom.

Sunlight disappeared altogether as we ventured further into the depths. Our earlier efforts to stop the flames from gorging the interior had some success, seeing as how the space within these parts was completely intact, save for the obvious soot and grime that covered the surfaces.

At present, we’d already cleared most of the aft section, collecting anything worth of note such as books, documents and maps. Brief inspection of the language used proved futile and it certainly surprised me considering just how diverse the members of the Brotherhood were supposed to be.

That left with only the giant door at the far end, which reminded me eerily of the kind of door you’d find in a prison, mixed with that used by banks. The two men in charge of breaking through had just finished blowing it wide open with explosives and were peaking inside.

“Oh, gosh,” someone muttered.

Ice filled my veins when I heard those words. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop the tremors in my fingers as I climbed over what used to be an inner corner of the deck. Another sharp intake of breath was taken as I made my way over to the top, where two men peaked into a dark space.

That was when I saw it.

Piles. Piles upon piles upon piles. A crude mockery of a landfill covered by a blanket of ash.

Piles upon piles upon piles of bodies.

If there had been any courage left in me, there was none to be found now. All the strength left me as my knees buckled and I fell on all fours onto the wooden surface below me.

Only to be met with another face of agony.

I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t take it.

Rain watched as the last of those sent to search the wreckage finally came out. Aside from pale, wide-eyed complexions, the men were all safe and secured.

The same couldn’t be said for their mental health.

While many were aware that war was a cruel thing that led to many heinous acts, it was another to entirely to be confronted with ones own victims. For the militiamen who only knew how to vent their anger and get away scot-free of the circumstances, it was certainly an eyeopener to see the results of their handiwork first hand.

She’d spoken with the squad leaders on the matter. The two men were grim-faced, but were taking it better than the rest. An agreement was made to give the men the closest thing they had to a ‘day-off’ by handing them better rations and some light alcohol. The leaders also agreed on sitting down with the men and talking to them about the recent experiences.

That left only with the other problem.

He’d been the first to return, and had spent the better part of the evening sitting down as far away from the vessel as reasonably possible. With his feet tucked under him, he almost appeared like a child that’d been caught breaking something extremely valuable.

She approached him slowly. Her knee-high boots left the barest of imprints in the sand. When she was next to him, she sat down with her knees bent close to her chest, and arms wrapped around them for better support.

Together, they enjoyed the darkening sky.

“I killed them,” he croaked.

“You did,” she nodded.

“All of them,” he let out, voice falling to a harsh whisper. “There were even women and children in there.”

She gently inclined her head towards him. “How could we have known? The men acted to the best they could, given the situation.”

“DON’T PLAY DUMB WITH ME!!” he screeched. “DON’T YOU DARE TO PITY ME WOMAN!!”

Her reflex was to switch to a long sitting position. With her arms free, she punched him and in quick motion, pulled him back upright. The same arm was then used to hold him by the back of his neck.

Applying pressure, she could feel his breath hitch.

“That is not. My intention,” her voice was austere.

She increased the pressure just a bit. Not to harm, but to ensure his attention was on her. With her other hand, she cupped his chin and turned him to face her.

The eyes swollen with bottled-up grief. A face contorted in pain.

In agony.

“My intention,” she breathed. “Is not to pity you, but to put things into perspective.”

She released the grip on his neck and chin, switching instead to grip both his shoulders and turn his upper body to face her.

“You’re a commander of Nod,” she began. “Yours is a role that is coveted and at the same time abstained by those who know and don’t know of its implications. Remember that; remember always more what that entails.”

She let her words hang in the air. Alas, it only made him downtrodden.

“I’m not a monster,” he cast his gaze down. “I don’t want to be one.”

A sigh escaped her. Her own head hung low.

Gently, she nudged her temple against his.

“Then, be a man,” she whispered. “Just be yourself. This is only the beginning. You’re journey here, will shape you.”

“Into what, Rain,” he asked.

She retracted her head and placed both her hands under his head. She raised his head to face her once more.

“Isn’t that what we’re supposed to find out?”

Her Master stared at her with dull eyes. He blinked, before gently seemed to nestle his head into her palms. Acting on instinct, she brought him into a gentle embrace.

For a time, they embraced this peace, until he asked. “Just who are you exactly Rain?”

“I am your aide, Jared,” she breathed. “I am meant to aid you in your quest for as long as I’m able.”

“… I don’t trust you.”

“Then don’t. Just rely on me as much as you need to.”

The sun had disappeared over the horizon when they returned to the site. The moon was visible this time, and it castled an ethereal white glow on the lands.

The men happened to be lounging about. At some point, they had torn down more of the ship to enable easier access to the interior.

Squad Leader Three was the first to notice their approach.

“Commander, Mistress!” he exclaimed, prompting the others to rise up and stand at attention.

From where she stood behind him, she watched his head slowly turn from left to right, observing each man.

“What are you doing?”

Leader Three blinked. “We’re… waiting on you, sir. You kinda took off on your own for a bit there. We already cleared out as much as we could from the ship. Sadly, there weren’t any survivors sir. Look like the fire got them all.”

A long sigh escaped her. She continued to observe her leader, noting just how awfully stiff he was.

“… Get them out.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he clarified. “Get them out. We’re gonna bury them.”

Zero-Three spared a glance at her. She responded with a stare.

“…Well, if you say so,” the militant then turned around to gather his brethren. The two of them stood there for a while as they watched the camp getting roused into action.

“Rain, I need you back in the control room. Keep watch just in case there’s trouble,” he suddenly spoke.

“But what about you?” she queried.

“Somebody has to see to it that that these guys do their job right,” he said whilst adjusting the sleeves of his BDU. He then began walking to join the other men.

Midstride, he stopped and turned just enough to speak over his shoulder.

“I’ll be fine now. Do as I ask of you. We can talk more at a later date.”

With that he was gone.

Rain watched him as his continued his path towards the ship before breathing out a sigh. Her lips thinned as she watched him waver whilst trying to pass the makeshift entrance into the vessel.

It was only when he finally disappeared inside did she made her own way towards the ConYard. All the while, her brows were furrowed.

This master of hers was a troublesome one.

Still, she will continue trying her best to serve him, as it was her lot in this life.

A/U: That’s a wrap!

Oh gee, it seems I really like to push the rating whenever I can.

So, first blood. Yeah, that kinda happened, but what did you expect? This is the bad guy faction’s story afterall. Tragedy is an abundance, and we haven’t even reached the main plot yet.

I hope ya’ll can bear with me as we go about this. Only a couple of chapters till we reach the main points.

Now, here’s one review I wish to answer.

To Rathmore, Rain is a character whose name I took from an old visual novel I acquired recently.

Also, to all you readers, you’ll see names from different media appear here in the story and it’s all in good fun! Disclaimer, these characters in no way corroborate with their original counterparts and can be considered their own characters. Their cameos in name and appearance, but I will admit their naming will be a discreet way of telling you how their story may or may not go down.

Again, I’m not trying to be lazy or anything like that. I just want to have fun writing, and I hope you all can join in too!

And thanks for following! I tend to forget how larger communities attract attention faster. I hope we can both enjoy as writer and reader.

See you next chapter!

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: Milestone

“Approaching target,” the pilot reported. “ETA one hour.”

“Good,” she nodded, before turning to the digital table. “EVA, anything on our sensors?”

“Negative, Mistress Rain. All systems report empty.”

An invisible weight was lifted off of her shoulders. She didn’t stop the long-drawn sigh from escaping her lips as she closed her eyes and basked in the first real success they had since arriving on this world.

Ahead of them was a vast mountain range. It’s silhouette had already been visible about as early as the morning after the encounter with the barge, and over the course of the next two days had grown steadily larger until it practically took up the entirety of  the frontal viewport.

Unfortunately, that was also about where their fortunes ended. For the amount of time it took to reach their destination, they were met only with the imposing structure that was the face of the mountain. Its surface devoid of any life, and for that matter, the main reason for them coming here.

Tiberium.

Her features visibly scrunched up upon noticing their predicament. Still, it was still within acceptable limits. She had approached her master with a similar hypothetical situation, and his answer was simple and direct. That being, to deploy a primitive Tiberium Spike to extract the mineral from the ground.

Speaking of their leader, he had secluded himself in his quarters for the remainder of their journey. Occasionally, he’d make his presence known by calling her on a private link using the WMT. Other times, she’d visit him personally and get him to do something about himself.

Merely thinking of the matter only helped to worsen the annoying headache she’d been having for the past few days.

Rubbing her tired eyes, she addressed the crew through the MCV’s using the intercom box on the wall; momentarily taking the time to adjust to the appropriate setting.

“Attention,” she spoke, her voice resonating through the Crawler. “All personnel, be advised we’re approaching the designated deployment site. Once we deploy, all staff not required for building operations are to proceed with securing the immediate around the ConYard. New orders will be given based on circumstances at any given time.”

She cut off the link before turning to address the control room.

“I’m heading down to discuss with the Master,” she spoke factually. “Stay alert and inform me directly if there’s any new developments.”

“Copy that,” the pilots said in unison.

“Understood, Mistress Rain,” EVA complied.

Nodding her head, she made her way to the elevator and took a trip one floor down. A multitude of thoughts running through her head on how best to pull him from his self-induced confinement.

Blessed was the Maker; for only they knew just how much effort she would have to go through to bring out the most out of her Master. The young man had become withdrawn from the rest of his Brotherhood ever since the incident. It was unbecoming as a leader, and most certainly a liability for their future.

Indeed, if he was to lead the Brotherhood into history, then measures would have to be taken to ensure his continued integrity to perform.

As she made her way down to her master’s quarters, she thought back to their plans for the base. Both had agreed that establishing the production line and a significant military took precedence over their ability to employ stealth once they began harvesting. The desert was vast, and their scrying abilities limited. The only true method of establishing contact with the indigenous lifeforms of this world would be to presumably run into them by chance.

The trip down from control to officer’s quarters passed in a flash. Standing in front of the steel doors, she gave herself a brief moment to compose her thoughts before entering. In her heart and mind, she undoubtedly expected the worst.

CLICK. SWISH. HISS.

Her superior’s quarters…. Was exactly as the way she had envisaged. No, it was exactly as it had been for the past two days but perhaps worse.

Books upon books were piled on the desk. The shelves they originated from now devoid of burden. Clothes were haphazardly strewn in one corner beside the bathroom. Then, there was the commander himself.

His back turned to her whilst he squatted over the floor, occasionally muttering incomprehensibly to himself. He was in his undergarments consisting of white undershirt and black boxers. Surrounding him were papers and various paraphernalia ranging from pencils, pen and erasers to books and files whose positions he constantly seemed to be fiddle with. The latter of which she hoped were empty or at the very least weren’t important enough for future consumption.

It spoke volumes when he didn’t even twitch at the sound of his own door opening; lost as he was in his own muttering. Granted, the only two people with direct access to his chamber were already occupying said space. However, this wasn’t a matter that she could afford to turn a blind eye to any longer.

With the audible click of her boots, she turned right and made her way over to one of the two single seats meant for guests and gracefully sat down. One leg was put over the other, followed by crossing her arms and closing her eyes.

She was prepared to wait however long it took for her Master to regain awareness of his surroundings. What she wasn’t prepared for was her own body to sink into the comfortable surface of the seat, followed by the feeling of an entire week’s tension escape her throat with an audible, yet incredibly gentle groan.

Nor was she prepared for slumber to catch her off-guard so easily.

When she finally regained her senses, it was to the feeling of something soft and comfortable on top of her. Her ingrained instincts flared, and she felt her heartrate quicken to speed up her awakening. Dark blue eyes fluttered open to see just what had enclosed her in slumber.

A blanket. Her mind didn’t need much to process just who’s it was. Yet, when she tried to remove the piece of wool, she found that a weight kept it pinned to one side.

Her head peaked to her left to find out what caused the obstruction. She saw dull black hair, the owner leaned back and resting his body on the side of her seat, with his head slumped forward for what must’ve made for serious discomfort.

Before she could take further action, the young man had awoken from his own slumber. He turned to meet her own gaze. In that moment, his eyes showed none of the dark that had possessed him in recent time. Rather, they betrayed his comfort, allowing a ghost of a smile to form on his face.

“Happy dreams, milady?”

“What’s the time, master?”

He snorted. “EVA alerted me of our arrival. I’d taken the liberty of having the militia set up camp and begin organizing patrol of the surrounding areas. We’ve got a small base made of pre-Dawn buildings already up, and I’ve already ordered the production of more units and vehicles.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s just a quarter past one. You’ve been asleep for about forty minutes.”

He stood up and began stretching, revealing that he was still in his undergarments.

“Come,” he motioned with his towards the center of the room. “I’ve something to show you.”

Rain tilted her head, her eyes narrowed at the peculiar behavior of her superior. Nonetheless, she complied and stood up to follow, but not before folding the blanket and placing it on the seat for the time being.

The de facto leader of Nod stood in the middle of the organized mess that was the arranged stacks of books and stationeries. His knuckles on his hips whilst pride practically radiated from his being.

“Happy with your childish work, master?”

“Come now, Rain,” his smile widened. “Can’t you see the beauty of my vision here?”

“I’m afraid not,” her lips straightened. “Suppose you wish to enlighten me?”

His eyebrow raised, yet he didn’t even seem to be remotely offended. Moving to his desk, he tapped once to bring the flat horizontal screen to life, then tapped at several different places to bring about a large diagram.

Without prompt, she moved to his left. Her eyes carefully assessing the image across the large display. It took her more than a minute to understand just what exactly she was seeing.

It wasn’t just an elaborate diagram before her.

It was a layout. A plan.

Something was entered her peripheral, and she turned to see that it was a book held in his hand. The book depicted the silhouette of a man, with a large circular body as a backdrop, and an orange tint marking where the blue sky met the arid ground. What stood was the man’s eyes that were a brilliant blue.

Accepting the book, she turned it around to better read the title.

Dune. Authored by Frank Herbert.

“Quite the ambition, that I have,” Jared nodded. “Of course, I’m trying to keep to my own word and remaining a man.”

“What does this have to do with the layout?” she inquired.

The enthusiasm radiating from him dimmed. In its place, was a man close to being dismal in appearance. A line seemed to form from his lips.

“I never forgot what I said to you back then,” he turned to face her. “About not trusting you.”

“If you think that is going to affect my performance, I must say you’re mistaken,” she reaffirmed him, head tilting to the side.

“No,” he shook his head. “I don’t expect that to be the case.”

He sighed. “What I’m trying to say is that, after much pondering, I’m starting to realize my distrust doesn’t end with you. It goes as far as just about everything that I see.”

He gestured to the surroundings.

“This crawler.”

Pointed a finger to her.

“You.”

Then looked at his own hands.

“Even the men and women out there who supposedly are subservient to me by manner of a single line in a text that isn’t elaborated!”

Both palms were sent slamming onto the surface of the table.

“I can’t trust any of it!” he became exasperated, eyes cast down. “None of it can be taken at face value. Not anymore!”

With his breathing labored, he turned to face her once more. Eyes burning with pent up anger.

“If I’m going to be the head of this faction,” he spat. “Then, we’re doing this my way. Starting from here!”

He jabbed a finger on the screen once more. Rain watched with eyes set in a cold stare at her master’s rambling.

To think leaving him to his own devices would lead to this. Was it a mistake to leave him be before?

She continued observing as her superior swatted the plethora of items on the table of the edge. He then used the index and middle fingers on both hands to scale up the layout to a larger size.

That was when she noticed the wordings begin to appear on within the numerous shapes and lines that made up the layout. The more she read, the more she felt aware of the air around her.

The more she realized just what exactly he was planning.

“A city?” her head swiveled to him. “Are you serious?”

“Oh yes,” he nodded. “Whether it’d be the first of many remains to be seen.”

“That’s absurd!” she almost screamed; eyes widened into almost saucers. “Do you how much resources we’d waste trying to emulate a living, breathing settlement of that size?! Do you know how many homunculi we’d need!”

The smile that creeped up his face only served to deepen the pit in her chest.

“Who said it was going to be all homunculi?”

“… How?”

He then turned to look tap at a tab in the top right corner.

“EVA,” he called out. “Bring up the manifest.”

Her head tilted to the side as she saw a new display on screen. This being an image of a parchment that was partially burnt around the edges, and much of the writing on it was difficult to read. Not that it would be comprehensible given the language barrier.

“Give us a basic summary of the contents,” Jared asked the intelligence. Immediately, a window opened up above the parchment. In it, actual words began to appear, written in English.

“Before you are the list of items being transported on what is believed to have been a repurposed hover ship. This ship is noted to have numerous humans labelled as defective assets.”

“…. A human trafficking ring,” she breathed, realization hitting her.

“Surprised me as well,” her master commented bitterly. “They were probably taking these people to be disposed of in the desert. From some of the text we’ve managed to decipher, it seemed these people were already dead or dying. It’d explain why they were piled in the back of the ship.”

Rain had to take a moment to process what she’d just heard. Her mouth left slightly agape at the revelations being made before her. Inhaling deeply, she composed herself enough to ask a question bubbling onto the surface of her mind.

“That still doesn’t explain as to why they are so far deep into the desert, and for why they had to use such a massive ship to begin with. If those people weren’t going to be of use any longer, then why need such effort to hide their disposal at all? Surely, a lesser craft with equal capabilities could’ve done this job. The trajectory they were coming from also doesn’t make sense.”

Hearing this, Jared simply shrugged. “I don’t have the answer to that either. Based on the maps we recovered, I can only assume they were using an elaborate route in case of pursuers. That, or they were…. Discarding an even bigger load across the desert than we realize.”

Rain didn’t miss the attempt at evasion but did not press.

“So,” she looked at him once more. “What happens now? What does this have to do with a fictional book.”

Jared’s lips twitched upwards. “That, is a simple reason.”

He pressed one of the options listed on the taskbar to the right side of the screen. The previous images became minimized, and in its place was a familiar green mineral in the early stages of its own evolution.

“Nod is power,” he stated, expressing a doleful look. “Yet, at the same time, power is not necessarily Nod. To survive, and to thrive, we must build Nod in such a way that not even our enemies could not afford our guaranteed destruction without guaranteeing their own demise.”

He turned to look at the book still held in her hands.

“It is said in there, that ‘he who controls the spice, controls the universe’. So, I’ve wondered….”

His gaze turned upwards to look at Rain dead in the eye.

“Could the same be said of Tiberium? Surely, I see it as no different a path than what Nod’s previous leader did. Through Tiberium, we will unlock the full potential of humanity in this world. By exploiting its wonders, we could make everyone experience true peace through the limitless possibilities it provides us. In time, I can see even our most staunch oppositions be unable to cast away their gazes from its alluring glow.”

He then sighed. “Yet, at the same time, it could be said that we’re consorting with the demise of this world. Assuming it hasn’t already begun spreading, then we’re going to have to act quickly if we want to take the world by storm.”

“But I’m getting off track here,” he inhaled deeply before continuing. “As it stands, my current idea is to build not just a military seat of power, but also an industrial society with deep spiritual belief to which we could use to not just wage a war of might, but also economics, culture and politics.”

He all but spat out the last word, facial features visibly scrunched as he did so.

“The Tiberium harvested will be our trump card,” he explained. “So long as we can continue to harvest it, I intend to produce products of all kinds. The full details of this plan are sketchy right now, but I’m sure to better get a grasp on it in due time.”

“All of this will be a certainly grand undertaking, Master,” Rain pointed out. “Especially if we’re going to be operating without advanced automation for the foreseeable future until we could establish the required facilities to produce them.”

“Which is why we have to find out where the other sites are.”

“Sites?”

“Oh,” he looked at her apologetically. “I didn’t explain earlier, it seems.”

He then tapped the sidebar and brought up the previous image of the manifest. New icons appeared on the bar, and he selected the one below the top. A map appeared, albeit incomplete due to damage.

“This here shows what appears to be several locations of note throughout the desert. If the ship’s contents and the nature of its lack of identification are anything to go by, then all of these places will be exempt from any form of legal authority.”

The pieces began to click.

“So you intend to supplement our manpower with the captives,” the aide concluded.

“I have an idea in how to convince them,” he confidently spoke. “We’ll slowly bring them into the fold.”

When he looked at her again, she couldn’t miss the childish look in his eyes. Like a child expecting praise from their parental figure.

“So, what do you think of this?”

She thought about it. The gears in her mind performed their clicks so as to produce a sensible answer.

“I think,” she began. “This plan can hold merit, but alas you’ll need to explain to me more elaborately just why you would want a city, especially one that, as you say, would be an industrial and spiritual core for the future of Nod.”

Her master wasn’t quick to respond, but when he did, there was an unmistaken resignation in his words.

“Like I said before,” he smiled at her. “I don’t trust you Rain, and the same goes for the rest. To be truthful, I don’t even have an answer as to why I can’t bring myself to fully embrace everything I see now, but I can only feel that doing this is right.”

He pointed at the map.

“So, hate me for any reason all you want. No, hate me if you can for my own indecisiveness. Of course, nothing changes my mind about bringing those people into a city of my own making.”

A deep sorrow flowed out of Jared. It made Rain question as to whether this was one of her abilities as his perfect aide; to easily sense his emotional state. Sadly, she found no answer deep within her.

Yet, it didn’t stop her from doing her next action. With the book placed back on the table, slender fingers reached out to slip into the cracks of another’s half-clenched fist. The owner of the fist visibly stiffened, but unlike before didn’t see it necessary to retract them. She capitalized by gently wrapping the fingers around and holding it with a gentle, yet firm hold.

“I will support you as best I can. However, you must stop trying to think that you could try and distance yourself in some way from this life,” her voice soft, but strained.

She pulled the hand to herself.

“Listen well,” she breathed. “I can’t have you like this. Nod as you envision can’t be allowed to see you like this. You. Must. Live. Jared. Live and seek the fulfillment of this life.”

Raising her both her hands that were still clasped around his, she gave it her all to reach out to him.

“Our kind’s only indulgence is fulfilling your wishes. So just as you repeat yourself, so shall I. Rely on us as much as you need to see to obtain your desires, and the conclusion of this journey of yours.”

In that moment, it took all she could not to accidentally crush his hand.

“You’re right that I can’t hate you because of what I am,” her voice wavered.

“However, I’m most certainly capable of hating what you are doing to yourself right now. Is that good enough for you?””

He didn’t respond. Rain didn’t need him to. She began making her way to the door, careful not to step on the carefully built constructs that took up the center of the room.

“I’m going to check around the base. I want you to clean up; both yourself and this room. I’ll await further orders until then.”

With that, she was gone.

Cursed sun.

That was the first thought that entered my mind as I exited the confines of the ConYard for what was for all intents and purposes days. The damn fireball was sure enough cooking me using the late afternoon rays.

Doing my best to distract myself from the heat, I swept my gaze over the surroundings. At the very least, calling the place center of our future operations was a mistake. It was going to remain that way until we could further develop the surrounding areas into a proper compound. Of that, we would require a steady supply of income.

Speaking of that, I noticed an uncomfortable number of people walking around carefree without enviro suits. That was more than enough to cue me in on our situation.

I sighed. Raising my hand, I tapped the screen of my WMT and brought up the current amount of currency we had at our disposal.

10,640 units

That was all we had left. The improvised Spike would subtract another 1,250 from that sum and depending how much we needed to set up the base, that amount was not going to last.

There was also the issue of the Spike. The structure was designed to automatically subtract even more of our resources if it had trouble reaching the Tiberium below us, and it was strangely humorous to equate the extraction process to sucking up fossil fuel from the earth. Nonetheless, this whole situation was only to end up feeding my growing erratic behavior.

Speaking of which, this damn itch on my forehead just won’t go away! Where did it even come from?!

“Sir?”

I turned mid-scratch to look at the source of the voice. It turned out to be one of the militiamen.

“What?” I growled out.

“U-uhm, I was sent to inform you that the Mistress is expecting you in the comms center,” he stammered. “She said she wants you to there to plan our next move.”

I looked the man in the eye. I could tell he was a familiar one; one of the original fifty to be produced. Taking a glance at my WMT, I brought the man’s info and read his name.

“Thank you, Farhan,” I nodded. “Go back to your duties if you have any. Otherwise, get some rest.”

He stood a little straighter after I called him by name. “Would like an escort, sir?”

“No, I’ll make it there just fine.”

With a nod, he left to return to his own matters. I myself made the short trip across the sands to the building in question. The comms was meant to be the exact building from Tiberian Dawn; a bunker embedded in the earth with the satellite dish sticking out. Albeit, like everything else Pre-Dawn tech, it was much smaller and the tech involved with its function was cramped together in a confined space. The upside to this building, however, is that we intended for it to be expanded to its original size once we had a much larger resource pool to pull from.

The building was to the east of the ConYard, and within spitting distance no less. Next to it, were the field generators soaking up the solar energy from the sun. I didn’t hesitate to jog the remaining distance into the exposed entrance of the building and out of the blasted heat.

Immediately, what greeted me was a hand holding out a water bottle. I gracefully took the container and drank its contents before passing it back to the guard. Unfortunately, this was one that I didn’t know personally and what’s more he was a new face. That didn’t stop me from thanking him, to which he waved it off and ushered me further into the building.

Wiping brow, I proceeded to continue my way in. As mentioned previously, the actual operations were conducted safely underground. I opened the main entrance, a hatch on the floor that revealed a ladder that went some seven meters down.

Upon reaching the bottom, I turned around to find a narrow hallway and what resembled a watertight door at the far end. As I approached it, the door suddenly unlocked by itself and opened inwards.

Stepping inside, I was greeted with a claustrophobic worst nightmare. The ceiling barely reached two meters above me, and the walking space between the rows of terminals was just enough for one man to walk with some level of ease. Illumination came from the overhead lights along the top where the walls met the ceiling. At least the ventilation was working just fine, although I could immediately tell just how dry the air was.

“Master, over here.”

Rain was located at the other end of the room from where I entered. I made my way pass the rows of seated operates manning their stations. As I closed in, I began to make out the by now familiar shape of an electronic table, which currently projected a grid square that covered the entire surface of the table.

“Rain,” I greeted. “What’s our current situation?”

“Our perimeter is clear,” she reported. “I had taken the liberty of having the patrols deploy data posts along their designated routes. That should help us build an accurate topography of the area.”

“That explains the additional drain in our currency,” I noted.

“My apologies for not informing you.”

I shook my head. “Think nothing of it. A better grasp of the landscape is a major fundamental in establishing our defenses. Speaking of, why isn’t the Tiberium Spike build yet?”

“Subterranean sensors haven’t been able to accurately determine the exact depth of the vein as of yet,” came Rain’s answer. “There’s no need to worry, however, EVA has already confirmed that there is in fact a Tiberium vein right below us. We just need extra time for a better readout before we can begin construction.”

I nodded at every word mentioned. I set my eyes on the table below me.

The base was build with the ConYard in the center with two buildings on either sides forming a v-formation facing the desert. To the west, there were the production buildings, such as the Hand of Nod mockery and vehicle assembly facility, and to the east, as mentioned, were the comms center and field generators. With the mountain to our backs, we only had to worry of an attack coming from the south.

I brought my left hand and tapped a series of commands into the WMT. Pulling out a cord from its point, I connected it to the table’s port, creating a line that stretched from electronic furniture to the edge of the WMT close to my elbow.

The data that was sent through the line was used to update the current data presented on screen. Numerous new buildings appeared, but as these buildings had yet to be build, they were instead given a green silhouette rather than the usual red. Each building was in some way extremely basic and sacrificed form for function. There were exceptions such as those resembling ziggurat architecture, but that was because they were in line with a different purpose. What these buildings did share amongst one another, however, was how they resembled bunkers when viewed from above or at a distance.

This was the city I wished to build. The individual purposes of each building type would be hidden in plain sight; an aftereffect of having lack of décor surrounding them.

 “Alert, enemy unit sighted.”

My eyes widened to saucers upon hearing the notification. Dismissing every silhouette except for the already existing buildings, my head shot up to look at my aide.

She had just brought up the source of the alert on her side of the table. From where I stood, the gridlines showed one of the patrols marked ‘P1-C’  on the move eastwards with another X-cross behind it. Another patrol labelled ‘P1-B’ was in front of it.

“Rain, comm. Now.”

“On it.”

Bringing up my WMT, I punched in the quick command for the comm unit. I took one last look at the table to ascertain that I was contacting the right person. Two beeps later, I was able to establish a line.

“Report, what’s going on?”

“We’re under attack!”

“I’m aware of that, but I need details, soldier.”

“-hit, dam-!! We’re under attack by a giant bi- AAHH!”

“Unit Lost,” EVA reported.

At that moment, I could feel my heart stop.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!”

025 was not having a good time.

Ahead of him, the remains of a Technical shredded by sharp feathers of all things lay pinned into the sand. The crew done for.

His gaze turned up to see the giant avian that had killed his brethren. It was maintaining a circle around their vehicle for now, but that could change at any given moment. The driver, 022, continued to floor the pedal, doing their best to  to link up with the closest member of their patrol.

Their mission today was supposed to be an easy one. It boiled down to a simple ride across the desert whilst dropping the meter long cylinders that would supposedly help them better map out the desert. Then came that damn overgrown bird and thinks went to the gutter.

Its silhouette had already been seen once before, but the ones who spotted it got laughed off and the blame shifted to the heat. Now, those same two people were dead, and the rest of patrol were left in varying states of shock.

“Where is he?!” 022 shouted from the driver’s seat.

“Dunno!”

“Well, keep a lookout, damn it!”

“I’m TRYING!”

As if on cue, it began raining feathers again. In reflex, 025 slammed the roof of the vehicle with his right hand, prompting the driver to swerve sharply to the left. A lone feather clipped the rear of the vehicle, sending pieces of the left side flying away.

The upside was that the giant black bird needed to be still to let loose its lethal projectiles. Something that the gunner fully exploited by letting loose a barrage from his mounted weapon at the creature. The first three seconds of the barrage were a success, but the creature was quick to perform its own maneuvers to escape. In a show of acrobatics, it swerved in the air above the militants before coming to halt in front of them.

“Shit!” 022 barely had time to process seeing the giant avian in front of him. Time seemed to slow as he could see the individual feathers sharpening and getting ready to be let loose in front of them.

Fortunately, the creature didn’t have a chance as a rocket slammed onto its backside at the last moment. It barely had the time to let out a squawk in pain as the technical in front of it collided headfirst into its dark body, sending into the earth.

Disoriented, and reeling from the sudden strike from behind, it was helpless in the face of half a dozen technical surrounding it and pouring hundreds of rounds downrange. The lead storm was joined by four attack bikes launching their own payloads square into the beast.

The combined fury of the militiamen turned the creature into nothing than a smoking pile of dark flesh in minutes. Any sound from it was drowned out by the hail of gunfire.

Eventually, one of the leaders present ordered for everyone to ceasefire and reload. He then asked the men to call out their designations, and much to his relief they were all present, aside from the ones who died.

“Look!” a gunner shouted, prompting the others to turn in the direction he pointed. Much to their trepidation, another pair of the giant avians had appeared out of the seemingly out of thin air over the blue sky. Their loud, howling screams echoed over the vast desert.

Both creatures entered a dive, prompting the vehicles present to disperse. Unfortunately, the dust storm kicked up by the fleet blinded one of the attack bikers who then had the misfortune of ramming the frontal side of a passing technical. His saving grace at that moment was that he didn’t get the chance to accelerate and only ended up vaulting over the hood of the vehicle.

When the storm cleared out, he found himself lying on his back.

And above him was the bony head of one of the birds.

“AAA-!!”

“Unit lost.”

Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!

My frustration was let out in banging the hood of the semitruck I was riding on. From where I stood on the back of the vehicle, I could see the oncoming patrol group that had first encountered the unknowns. Only, they were short on one truck and one bike.

Three men dead in mere moments. And I’m riding to meet their killers.

Rain had thrown a fit when I told her I was going out to join the troops. Alas, I simply told her to shut up and led me have this. Afterall, how’s a commander supposed to lead if he didn’t see the enemy once in his life; the logic that I’d work with.

The force we sent consisted of what’s left of our vehicles. That meant another six technicals and over twenty bikes. Whoever else that couldn’t come along were left in charge of preparing the defense in case anything else happened.

From the distance, I could see as what remained of the patrol group passed another high rise. The three remaining bikes flanked the technical on their right, and kept distance to avoid a collision.

That was when I saw them.

Two giant avians. Each about as large as a small plane. Their howling screams echoed for kilometers across the barren skies. However, what stood out most was the bony white skull that protruded out of the front of their heads, and the distinctive red veins that ran across its face.

Those weren’t birds. They’re NEVERMORES.

I can’t believe it. I’m not in some no name world. I’m in-

“SIR! ORDERS!” Hassan shouted from his station on the gun.

Right! Killing comes first!

“Light them up! Technicals, bring them down. Bikes, keep moving and wait until they’re close to the ground. Everyone, keep your distance!”

There was a series of ‘sirs’ and other forms of confirmation as the two forces began to clash. What happened next was the wildest bumper car ride I’d ever experience. Only, without the deliberate clashing.

The technical I was on alone swerved left to right as it worked to avoid other vehicles in its way along with stray pinions that headed our way. Hassan’s face was set in a fixed snarl as he worked both gun and body to bring down the beasts.

“Unit lost,” EVA interjected again.

“Farhan!”

“I’m sorryI’msorryI’msorry..”

The comms devolved into total chaos as whatever semblance of order the militia had escape them. Getting a more firm grip on the side of the semitruck, I turned to try and get a good look of the surroundings. Apparently, the men were successful enough in separating the creatures from one another and keeping them in place a few meters above ground.

As the opportunity presented itself, I noticed the attack bikes had begun to make they’re move. They’d divided their numbers into two halves as they tried going in for the kill.

One bike from each group led the rest on high rises that dotted the surrounding areas. Upon hitting the last incline, one of the lead riders proceeded to fire two out of four of their warheads into one of the creatures. The creature was struck square in its right wing, and it proceeded to spin in the air before hitting the ground. It got out one last scream of defiance before the other bikes finished it with consecutive barrages.

The second group was met with a far more disastrous result. The black creature had ignored the lead peppering it long enough to notice how its kin had died, and proceeded to shoot upwards into the sky, generating a small shockwave as it did so. Its sudden departure coincided with the lead bike’s rockets being launched and in a moment of misfortune the rockets instead struck a technical dead-on. The crew barely managed to elicit a scream.

I and others watched in horror as the flames from the destroyed vehicle rose up into the air. However, another important fact remained.

The targets those rockets had been intended for had escaped.

“Scatter!” I yelled into the radio.

Alas, it came too late.

A shadow loomed over my vehicle. I turned to look up just in time to see a familiar silhouette and bone white mask above us. Before I could alert the rest, I watched as its wings spread, but rather than strike with pinions, it did something else.

Like an actual eagle finding its prey, it swooped in and grabbed us. Metal groaned and men screamed in surprise as the technical was raised above ground. I barely managed to comprehend our impromptu flight before it suddenly released us. We were meters above ground by then.

Then my vision went black.

There was pain.

Pain all over my body, most notably my back. The air was hard to breathe, and I felt my face pressed into the coarse and rough sand. I knew not just as to why I suffered like this, but I knew something else.

I needed to get up.

Gathering my strength, I used both palms to raise my upper half out of the sand. I shook my head wildly to be rid of the grains around my face, before wiping any residual around my eyes. I opened both my eyelids to inspect my surroundings.

The technical I’d rode in lay upside down with the forward end touching the ground. Both cabin and gunner’s post were empty. I didn’t understand why this was the case at first.

Fortunately, I was given a reminder.

Something blotted out the sun. For a moment, I caught myself between pressing my face again into the soil, or flipping myself onto my back to see what was blocking the light. The latter won, and I willed myself to flip myself over, albeit sluggishly.

That was when I saw it.

The boney white plate with red veins. The four eyes with no pupils staring at me with what must’ve been interest. I watched, in mix of horror and fascination, as this creature of death looked down on me with what must’ve amounted to ‘eat or not to eat.’

Raising its head, I watched as it raised one talon and flashed its claws on me.

…….

Oh, God. This was how I die wasn’t it.

Alone. Killed by my own hubris. A man who didn’t allow himself to believe in his circumstances.

At that moment, I only wanted to cry out in objection over this foul fate. However, what I only found was resignation…. And hate.

So much hate. And only one image came to mind when I thought of it.

Blue eyes, and golden locks of hair.

Damn. It. All!

Damn this life. Damn the thing that brought me here.

“DAMN YOU RAIN!”

I didn’t shout. I screamed. With how sudden it was, I suppose even something like a beast of darkness could get taken off guard. That split second of confoundment was all it took for the fates to change course.

For the creature soon found itself assaulted by a hailstorm of lead. It screamed in anger at the source, but soon found itself stuck from behind as an explosion caused it to lose balance and collapse forward.

A tug on my shoulders alerted me to another presence. I looked up to see my driver -Iosef- as the man began dragging me out of harms way. Looking back, I watched just in time to see Sergiu come into view, firing an M2 Browning he held close to his hip whilst using his belt as a means to hold the barrel safely.

From all sides, many more men came rushing in and began climbing the limbs of the beast like ants. A lone, daring technical even rode up the backside of the beast and used the weight of the vehicle to press the creature’s head into the sand. Screams, insults and gunfire were casted towards the beast like a spiel of curses. Their focus being on the eyes, joints and the neck.

By this point, Iosef had dragged me far enough to lean me on the door of the upside down technical, before he himself collapsed on his back. I turned to regard him, and he righted himself just enough for me to notice the blood leaking from his temple. He turned to regard me, and for the first since this debacle started, I saw a ray of joy.

It came in the form of Iosef’s smile. Wide, from ear-to-ear.

“Hell of a way to start the war, eh, commander?”

I scoffed. “I expected a little less in the way of flying.”

Somehow, that got the young militant to laugh. An honest to God laugh that filled me with warmth. Our moment didn’t last of course.

A final scream from the beast made both our head turn. I felt a tingle of fear that it would try one last fit of rage. But this became unfounded as it collapsed once more and never to rise again.

The technical that had ridden over its back now lay on its side. Most of the men I saw were relatively unharmed save for bruises and looking roughened up. These men also were busy surrounding the beast and spraying it some more with what remained of their ammo.

Eventually, the beast’s body began to dissipate, fading into its signature mist that rose into the air. The militia looked upon this phenomenon with awe, until one of the men openly complained.

“That’s just unfair, man.”

It was another two hours before we arrived back at the base.

Standing right in front of the ConYard, with a small entourage behind her, was my expressionless second-in-command. She didn’t even seem to bat an eye as the lead vehicle came to a stop with meters to spare in front of her. Nor did she respond in any way as  the men behind her moved to help assist the wounded and take over driving the vehicles to a designated parking area.

I got down from a vehicle that was behind three others, wincing as some of the earlier pain flared yet again. With great care, I began walking to the front where she awaited me. At the same time, the rest of the men began to disperse; my orders, and presumably Rain’s too seeing as how there was a growing lack of activity around us.

I spared a glance through the gaps in-between the throng of people, and noticed Hassan being carried off on stretcher. The man had apparently thrown quite a distance away from me and Iosef. Miraculously, he suffered no apparent injuries, but the fact he hadn’t woken up once meant that something was still obviously wrong with him. I was left with only my thoughts and prayers for him.

As I approached her, I noticed that behind the neutral look, there was inherent hostility. I suppose given how I’ve acted, that isn’t too surprising. That did leave me with some options.

Play the part of the naïve boy who didn’t understand a person’s care and concern.

Or play the part of an ass.

The first was too damn cliché, and earnestly the latter made even less sense.

That only left me to face the music.

However, if I had to listen to an awful tune, the I’ll very well preform an awful dance to match.

As the distance between us lessened to only a mere meter apart, I was quick to give her my orders.

“Anywhere but in between the le-,” I was cut off by a flare of pain in my left shin. My balance flopped and I found myself on my knees.

After that, I was expecting to get whacked and be scrutinized.

What I wasn’t expecting was the embrace that followed.

In those evening hours, I felt…. Struck for a lack of a better term. I’d felt something similar before earlier today when the first casualty was reported. Yet, this feeling was a lot different compared to the one I felt then.

“What did I tell you,” she began, tightening her embrace. “About living.”

“That I was to seek fulfillment in this life,” I answered back, a smile blooming on my face. “Didn’t I achieve that today?”

“Today’s actions had nothing to do with finding your resolve to live. If anything, you nearly found a cause for the opposite.”

Suppose I could’ve continued this back and forth of words. Yet, again, I wanted to avoid platitudes. That brought me back to the thing I said earlier at death’s door.

To emphasize my point, I enveloped my arms around her, and whispered with the softest voice I could possibly use.

“I hate you Rain,” she seemed to stiffen in my arms. “I came so close to getting snuffed today, and the only I could conjure in my mind was you. The way you claim to be on my side without a shred of evidence. The way you continue to gently nudge me into becoming something I’m not; something that I think no one whose actually sane would want to be. I hate all of it.”

Gently, I removed her from our embrace and slowly cupped her face.

“I hate that you were fundamentally right all the while I couldn’t come up with even an empty rhetoric. I hate that I have to rely on you to perform a duty that I never asked for, much less actually wanted.

But all the same, I could never ask for a better aide and companion. So please, continue staying by my side for as long as you can.”

I looked into her eyes, and perhaps it was the rays of dusk playing tricks on me, but I figured I saw what looked like a watery surface staring back at me. It was difficult to tell, and this along with how she sunk her head into my chest made it impossible to ever know.

“At least try not to compromise your safety next time, Jared.”

“No promises.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

The night seemed to pass by in a flash.

Soon after, Rain insisted on having me checked up for serious injuries. After getting multiple insurances I was fine, I asked her to see to the base defenses and, for the moment, denied long distance patrols. I also told her that I had an idea just where we were, and what exactly had attacked us. Further elaboration was to be saved for the next day.

I was tired.

As I lay in my bed, the day’s events played in my mind. What had begun as a test on my character, turned into a visit with death. The mere thought of which sent my heart pounding yet again.

Still, I could no longer deny what is expected of me. For better or worse, Remnant was on borrowed time. A Tiberium deposit was one thing, but an entire vein spelled early disaster brewing within the foreseeable future. That left Nod with only what…, years? Decades at best?

And here I am with the faction that by all accounts is hellbent on fostering its growth.

I groaned as I realized the scope of work ahead of me. Yet, unlike before, I felt no issue with it. No mistrust so to speak.

If this is the kind of life expected of me, then so be it. Let the world of self-proclaimed bloody evolution meet a force of conversion of which devours entire worlds. I will show them the path to salvation.

If not through words than through force.

Peace through Power.

The sun rose on a vast mountain range.

At the foot of one such pillar of the earth, a shepherd gathered his loyal flock.

His sheep were mere imitations. They were loyal hounds without need for a leash. Many were wary, but all were willing to lend an ear to their master.

Together, they stood with the mountains to their back and manmade constructs to their front. The shepherd himself was on a small crate he was using as a stage. His uniform was clean and crisp from the previous day’s trials, and by his side was his most loyal companion.

And so, one man begins his self-aggrandizing speech.

“Brotherhood! We! Are! Reborn! Again!

The cycle of life! Has brought us here together!

Before you I stand! Though, I will tell you now once more. I am not Kane!

I am but a man! No more than any other you will meet out in the world!

And you! All of you! You stand before me reborn! In imitation of Men!

But fear not! For you all still stand here today, as my brothers and sisters!

And together! We! Are! Nod!”

The gathering nodded in approval and sang songs filled with elation and bubbling glee.

“From today onwards! I shall vow to see the end of all things!

And you all! Shall accompany me! For we! Bring! Salvation!”

We! The Children of Nod! The Successors of Kane! Are chosen to enlighten this world with true power!”

The man pointed behind him, and a tower erupted from the earth, reaching a staggering fifty meters into the air. It’s base widened into a dome shape with numerous panels rotating around the cylindrical base the further up it went.

“Behold! The Technology of Peace! The Proof of Kane’s Vision!

Tell me Brotherhood! What is our mantra!”

“Peace Through Power!” was what they cried out!

“Louder!”

“PEACE THROUGH POWER!

 PEACE THROUGH POWER!

 PEACE THROUGH POWER!”

“One Vision! One Purpose! My brethren! To War, Enlightenment and Salvation!”

And so, with those words, a new nation was born in the world of Remnant.

To its enemies, they were the place where the shadows thrive.

To those indifferent to it, they were the ones who walked among monsters.

And to the few who called themselves its allies, they only knew them as masters to past, present and future.

A/N: Yow, that was longer than I thought. I hope this chapter brought you justice.

So here we have the end of the prologue. We can begin entering to the part everyone’s waiting for. Sorry if some of you felt it was dragged, but I feel a story could only be done right if given time. This is doubly so since Nod’s going to reach far and we’ll be dealing with many homunculi POV, probably. We’ll see.

To snipervtk4, hope some of the stuff written here answers your questions without spoiling anything. I will point out that we’re not TOO far back, but its good enough that Oobleck’s class is gonna be interesting if we delve into it. Also, thanks for giving me food for thought on bad guy justification. I did some studies on different villains and I found one to use as a basis for Nod in this fic. DOOM!

Next chap, manhunting! A nation can’t run without a workforce after all! A free one is the best!

Chapter Text

A man called Marcus once said, “Nature made the fields and man made the cities.”

A simple sentence, but with plenty of room for elaboration.

For one, the cities of man are only as relevant as the men who made it possible. Cities are vast, but that sheer size is only as intimidating as the number of people you could squeeze into its individual cracks without room for complaint from the tenants.

Nod’s first city was a in a bit of conundrum when it came to residents. Rain was right that such an undertaking was unnecessary when I already had homunculi at my disposal. Theirs was loyal with no faults and will literally die if I ordered them to; faction appropriate be damned. On top of this, just about everything on the base was automated, and what wasn’t could easily be handled by homunculi produced with specific maintenance skills easily.

Alas, all I could do was insist my orders be done, and leave it be at that.

Every day since I gave my speech, the Brotherhood worked tirelessly to help build the base in preparation to begin our first forays into Remnant. With an idea as to the kind of threats we were facing, me, Rain and EVA had a lengthy discussion on all immediate base defenses that could be constructed.

One of the options presented were the Gun Turrets and Sam sites used extensively by the Brotherhood in TibDawn. These were approved without question, and using new data received from the sensor posts deployed by our patrols, we were able to arrange these static defenses along with smaller bunkers armed with .50 caliber quadmounts. These turrets may appear old fashioned but were far better suited in suppressing and countering smaller, nimbler targets. Alongside the larger 105mm cannons used for serious ground targets and tight patrol schedules, it was unlikely for us to be suffering casualties outside of serious incursions.

These changes went parallel with the quantity of manpower required to make it possible. Over time, the number of homunculi skyrocketed from less than two hundred to more to six hundred. Granted, a significant number of these were dedicated to other areas outside of combat such as logistics, engineering and medical.

With these major changes, there were also smaller ones. Seeing as we now knew the kind of threats expected to face, there was no need to hold back our capabilities with faux humility.

The first major quality of life change I oversaw was replacing the milita’s autoguns with actual OldWorld armaments. Namely, the Autovmat Kalashnikov; a favorite weapon of rebels, insurgents and any other lowly groups not financially equipped to spend on deadlier weapons in the market. In particular, I had the GF3 model produced as I liked the black color scheme.

Leader privileges had its perks.

Second was actual combat vehicles at our disposal. While the technical and alt attack bikes may see action for a little while longer, it would be foolish to not begin producing proper fighting equipment. Hence, the M2 Bradley was introduced as an answer to sturdier Grimm types along with plans to introduce actual Nod TibDawn light tanks within the year.

To round up these changes, Rain had pushed for improved homunculi to take the field, mainly in the non-combat sectors. These men and women differed from the previous generation due to benefitting from ‘better education’ and ‘living circumstances’ back in their old lives. The real, more appropriate reason, however, was that they were simply built to handle more complex tasks and assignments with less risk of causing mishap. For combat purposes, however, I still stuck to the militia mainly for how cheap they were.

All in all, it took us over a month to complete these changes. Unfortunately, the amount of Tiberium being pumped out by the Spike wasn’t the issue.

It was the nature of the Tiberium itself.

Needless to say, I was deeply frustrated. It wasn’t like the crystals were flawed, mind you. It was that they were described to be ‘dormant’ for some reason. The currency we’d get as a result of this was almost half of what we should be getting. White, who had been ‘promoted’ from senior medical to leading Tiberium expert, had explained it in simple terms that this may have to do with the lack of minerals to leech off of the soil, given the arid environments. Nonetheless, what Tiberium was extracted could still be off use provided we double downed on the refining process.

As a result of this revelation, I’d given White his first task which was to find a way to revitalize the Tiberium Vein. As much as it would haunt me to think just what might happen once it starts spreading, the survival of Nod took higher priority, and we needed the emerald crystal to be at its best to guarantee that.

With each sunrise and sundown, I watched as the barren grounds at the foot of the mountain begin to alter. A basic concrete pavement was laid down to act as the first layer for further expansion. Actual residential buildings were also erected around the same time -mostly at my pestering- and I could tell that the men were grateful to no longer having to resort to using tents and prefab shelters.

Plans were drawn up for a wall to hopefully deter the inevitable future Grimm attacks, alongside blocking out sandstorms. The budget for that was rather high. Hence, we opted to leave it for now until we had attended to other matters more pressing.

It is now the thirty-first day in Remnant. A full month since we came here, and for me, a full month since I found myself at the head of one of fiction’s most notorious villain factions. It would also be the day we began our campaign in earnest.

Our first operation would be to investigate several locations which we suspected to be the sites of belonging to slavers. Based on translation of the recovered documents and literature from the destroyed hovercraft, it was revealed that someone had found small deposits of Dust -Remnants main resource- across the desert. The slaves hence are being used as labor force.

When the matter was approached with the squad leaders, a general consensus was agreed upon.

Nod was going to make this as an example for the future.

“Take care of yourself now.”

“Come on, don’t make it sappy, please.”

“You didn’t have a problem before when you openly hugged me after getting off stage, a month ago.”

“That was a month ago. This is now. I’d rather not give the men anymore ammo against me.”

Two hands reached up to cup my cheeks. Their owner gently tugged so my face would face hers. I was forced to stare into two blue eyes against my will. Yet, I couldn’t bring the slightest strength to avert my gaze. Rather, there was a blooming feeling in my chest that made me smile.

“I’m looking forward into reading your exploits, commander.”

“As I you, Rain.”

She released me from her hold. We then walked pass one another; I towards the interior of the ConYard and she to the Comm Station.

My aide was staying behind to maintain the base. She’d also would have the task of overseeing our other projects here, as well as taking charge should the need arise.

Even as the distance began to grow, it didn’t dissuade me from taking glances over my shoulder to see if she was still within view. The thought that our current tasks would set us apart the furthest from one another did no favors on my mind. Granted, many of those who were travelling with me were from the same bunch that had accompanied me across the desert, but that did little to ease my discomfort.

As I reached the inherent brain of the structure, I found out that the operators were already at their stations doing final checks on their respective systems. Despite the nod of acknowledgement from the radar operator and a brief ‘sir’ from the pilot, I didn’t seem to feel as if my loneliness was any less than before.

….. No matter, I have no room for pitiful acts now.

Walking to the intercom, I dialed to broadcast to all decks of the structure.

“All hands, prepare for departure. Non-associated personnel, evacuate the ConYard immediately. Pack-up protocol is being engaged.”

I repeated once more before turning off the mounted device. With that done, I took quick strides to the front between the pilot seats, taking a deep inhale as I did so.

My head turned to the man on my right.

“Bring her up.”

Nodding back, he keyed in the protocol. A familiar rumbling occurred around us, and I watched in awe as the space of the control shifted and folded into itself, transitioning in both apparent and discreet manners to accommodate the mobile form of the structure.

Even after witnessing it every day of our travel across the desert, seeing the ConYard’s transformation in action never ceased to amaze me. As a matter of fact, I still go to sleep on more pleasant nights thinking that I’d wake up to find myself on a hospital bed, either crippled or dying. Yet, the more I indulged in the world, the less I found it likely to be a dream.

“Pack up complete, awaiting orders sir.”

Thoughts began to dissipate as the pilot to my left unknowingly intruded into my moment. I looked at him with a straight face.

“Follow the nav given,” I stated. “Bring us there.”

He nodded stoically and proceeded with my instructions. Deft hands skillfully maneuvered the quadruped machine out of its hold. Even from within the confined space of the control room, I could hear the groans of the gears as well as the hiss of sand getting displaced.

The viewport in front of us shifted and we went from facing the mountain to facing the open desert once more. Even with the confined view, I could still discern the small shapes of a small patrol out in the distance, alongside the concrete pavement below that was on the verge of being swept under the sands.

Nodding in silent appreciation, I took a moment to ponder before deciding to raise my left hand. The display for the WMT was waiting for me, and I didn’t hesitate accessing contact for the comm center.

“This is Terror One, we’re mobilized and exiting the base. Escorts should be following close on the flanks.”

“Confirmed, Terror One. Base defenses report no hostile activity at this hour. You’re free to proceed. May providence bless you.”

“Stay safe in salvation,” was what I replied back. The moment the link was cut, I walked to the display table on the right side of the room. My mind working to distract itself from troubling thoughts.

Safe in salvation.

Something I was beginning to note was how much I seemed to try and overwrite Nod’s established lore with my own. Each time I did this, I felt a constant feeling of elation from it. It was something I couldn’t exactly place, but I had to be careful to not let it get into my head.

Were my own speeches working too well?

Shaking my head again, I brought the MCV’s rear cameras. My focus was on the one that was pointed right behind us towards the now shrinking base. I took my time staring at it, and the large spire further back, that stood as a monolith to our cause and power here in this world.

Underneath the afternoon sky, the place casted a rather rundown look. With how each day that passed, more and more sand had gotten stuck on the walls of each building and the entire base seemed ready to sink into the landscape as a result. This proved to be another troubling thought, so much so that I had brought up the nav on the table to confirm that we had the exact coordinates of the base saved in case we came back to nothing.

“Commander,” EVA suddenly interjected. “It is going to take considerable time to reach the operations area. Recommend using this opportunity to plan ahead for the oncoming scenario.”

I eyed the roof of the vehicle, imagining a giant eye looking down at me with what must’ve been some manner of concern. Tempted as I was to retort, one good look at my surroundings was all it took to make me realize that the virtual intelligence had a valid point, much to my own disgruntlement.

With a sigh, I dismissed myself from the control room. I wasn’t interested with any other happenings within the crawler, and so I decided my time would be spent in my room doing the only other activity I had in my alone time.

Reading.

It still confounded me just how many literature pieces were sitting on the shelves at the back of my personal quarters. Stories from ancient Greece and the Orientals, to late twentieth century sci-fi dominated the upper shelves, whereas works from well-known philosophers, spiritual figures and thinkers dominated the lower ones. Naturally, there were topics I preferred over others, but that didn’t dissuade me from having a go at least for the first few pages.

As I skimmed of over the various titles of display, I ended up picking Dune from the shelf, and continued reading from where I left off.

Getting comfy on my office seat, I settled for what was going to be a long voyage.

It took us a week to reach our first destination. The site of our first operation lay westwards and so we followed the length of the mountain range until we reached it.

The crawler’s escorts were the first to report the sighting of what appeared to be a settlement at the foot of the mountain range. Imagery was soon provided using the camera mounted on the technicals, along with drone footage in the air to substitute this worlds lack of artificial satellites for remote viewing.

Based on visuals presented, it was an even worse-off place than I thought. There were actual structures, but also camps and tents made off what had to be canvas, animal skin and ropes. Some people weren’t any better as what little could be seen shambled in leather used to conceal their forms, but there were also others with proper attire for the desert and they had firearms.

I studied the live images from the control room. My mind shuffling through every scrap of trivia about the show that I could remember in order to pin down just where we were in the timeline. I would’ve thought we were far back into the past considering the place was no more than a walled-off feudal settlement with a few significant details.

Mainly, the guard towers at the front and on each corner were the standard, oppressive kind found in just about any media, alongside the simple sheet metal walls surrounding the settlement with barbed wire coiled around the top. The perimeter took up a half-square at the base of the mountain, and upon zooming out, I could make out structures that were almost invisible even through the camera lens due to the rust coating on the walls.

“EVA,” I called out. “Any idea of our first move?”

“As you’re aware, commander. The settlement is not alert to our presence. If we wait for a later time of the day, we may be able to launch a raid that would better catch the defenders off-guard.”

“If I may interject, commander,” a feminine spoke up. “We may gain a better hand if we send an emissary to negotiate with the locals first.”

I turned to look at the source. From where I stood on a shorter end of the table, I could see that it was the radar operator who had seen it right to interfere.

“Care to elaborate,” I queried.

“With all due respect, I’m sure our superior arms will guarantee dominance in a fight. However, our objective here is to liberate the slaves and convince them to our cause. Starting a fight right off the bat won’t achieve that. Rather, they’ll be as likely to run away as they would if given a chance under their current masters.”

The lieutenant’s logic was sound. Yet, I was given little time to ponder when another voice got itself involved.

“That’s risky lieutenant. An emissary would need an armed force for protection, and that’ll be a dead giveaway we may be planning something. The Brotherhood needs to conserve as much manpower as possible. Besides, we’d lose the element of surprise if we sent diplomats in.”

This prompted the operator to turn and glare at the pilot.

“I’m sure our battle brothers are more than capable with brawling with a few low life’s armed with shivs and crude ranged weapons.”

“Oh yeah, then what about a few dozen then? Frak, what if the slave drivers managed to drive those people into a frenzy? Gun or no, there’s no way our people are going to last long enough for back up to arrive.”

“Fitting words for a man who died before getting to pro-,”

“Enough,” I declared, forcing the two to turn back to their stations. The tension in the air was now palpable.

I had to suppress my sigh. It really shouldn’t surprise me that the men would start getting on each other’s throats.

My attention was turned back to the screens on the walls. There was still one too many variables at play that we didn’t know of. Although, what remained certain was that we needed a way in.

If force wasn’t the answer, then what if….

“EVA,” I summoned the intelligence. “What would people value most when stuck in the desert?”

The sun was low in the horizon when a small convoy consisting of six technicals crossed the open space in front of the enclosed settlement. The third vehicle in this convoy was unique in that it had its main armament removed for extra space. This allowed six armed men to sit more comfortably on the flatbed, whilst the leader of the troop stood proudly holding the railing along the roof of the vehicle for stability.

As they approached the gates, the watchers on both towers stared down in full alertness. By this point, a messenger had been sent running further into the settlement to alert the superiors.

One of the watchers leaned over the low wall of the tower and proceeded speak up with a gravelly voice.

“Who are you people?”

“…,”

“I said,” he tried again, his voice became laced with frustration. “WHO THE HELL ARE YOU LOT!”

His hand worked the bolt action he held. The archaic weapon was a relic of the old war and had seen better days. Yet, it was still more than capable of inflicting pain if needed.

He trained the rifle on the lead vehicle, particularly the man standing on the back. Amidst the darkening sky, there was only a black silhouette for which to set his sights on, but height elevation played to his advantage. No doubt, if he missed then he was certain the watcher in the other tower would get him. By then, the rest of the camp’s defenders would arrive to reinforce them.

A flash of red pierced the dusk.

Caught up in his focus, he was briefly blinded by the glow. Panic set in and he adjusted his aim to where the source of light came from.

He was nonplussed at what he saw. Suspended diagonally in the air was what looked like a staff. It had a spiral that ran from one end and ended just slightly pass the middle. What was most notable was the red glow of the spiral, illuminating the dark hand holding it along with the cowled visage of the owner.

If before the watcher was infuriated, then now he was more than alarmed.

The light of the staff had served to reveal that it had been more than just some no-name convoy that had stopped in front of their gates. In fact, said convoy was armed to the teeth, and each vehicle was jam packed with armed men wearing mismatched sets, most notable were cloaks, parkas and ponchos. A symbol could be seen but was difficult to discern underneath the red luminescence.

“Oi, what you seeing up there!”

A voice snapped him to attention. Switching to the wall on the right, he looked down to see the camp commander looking up at him.

“Not sure, boss. They’re not talking!”

“Well, shoo them away then!”

He had to bite back the cringe. “Don’t know if it’s a good idea, boss. They look like a pretty tough bunch out there!”

“We wish to exchange.”

The air turned cold. The heat from the sands seemed to turn frigid from the words that reverberating through the air.

Turning back to the front where the convoy was still parked, he noted the staff no longer in the air and instead aligned with the height of the figure on the third vehicle from the front.

“We wish to exchange.” It repeated.

The watcher stood there unsure what to do. His rifle that had been a source of guarantee at one point seemed no more than a fancy stick now. His thumb and index played with the bolt and trigger respectively as tried to reassure himself.

“…Open the gate.”

He had to take a double take at what he heard. Peering over the side of the tower, he noted his superior staring at the gate with his knuckles on his hips. Around him, there were half a dozen men, each voicing their own protest at what seemed like an act of insanity.

“I said opened the Gods damned gate!”

The man’s words quieted the protest of his subordinates. With great reluctance, the crank that kept the gate shut was pulled and the sheet metal that was the gate began to move to the side.

With equal parts fascination and trepidation, all eyes watched as the boss of the operation walked out with his most trusted men tailing behind him. Even despite the fact the men were armed, clad in full armour and having Aura, there was a distinct nagging in the back of his head that something just didn’t feel right.

A brief spike of alarm resonated when the two lead vehicles suddenly reversed; one to the right and the other to the left, leaving only the third vehicle with the staff wielding individual. The approaching group had to stop briefly as the third vehicle suddenly moved to the side, and its passengers began to disembark.

By now, it was fairly obvious that the hooded one was a leader, but the watcher along with those in the camp couldn’t hear what was being said unlike before. It should be noted that the light of the staff had dimmed so that it only covered the area surrounding the two parties. At the same time, another feature of the staff was revealed, partly due to the light bouncing from the sands.

A hand holding a sphere upwards, akin to an act of triumph.

While the guard had seen his fair share of intimidating graffiti, this particular instance felt distinct.

Whatever exchange was being had, it nearly became tense when the men accompanying the staff-wielder moved to pull something from the vehicle, prompting the boss’ men to reach for their swords. Before they could draw, their superior raised his hand to halt them. The outsiders returned with boxes, which even from this distance seemed rather heavy considering the sand kicked up when they touched the ground.

There then passed a moment of silence as the two groups stared at each other, before the boss motioned one of the men to check one of the boxes. With shoulders still squared for a fight, the fighter in question took careful steps to one of the boxes and opened the lid to check inside.

‘…light?’ was what the watcher internally thought upon seeing a brilliance emanating from within the box.

Soon enough, whatever was inside had gotten the fighter excited. Their loud voice could only be heard in bits and pieces, but what he caught had to do with ‘cooling’ so to speak. Said fighter then passed something to the silhouette of the boss, and he watched as their figure brought it close to their face.

More talk happened, but now the previous oppressive atmosphere was beginning to fade. The red light from the staff also seemed to dim in its intensity to a more comfortable tone, and what finally sealed the deal was the bark laughter from the boss.

Eventually, all seemed to go well, and the two groups began to disperse. The boxes were left behind, and one of the boss’ men immediately called for a few other men to help carry them. As the boss and his band returned, the light from within the encampment served to reveal there were altogether six boxes with two men carrying each.

“Oi, boss,” someone called. “What was that about?”

“Just some interesting clients,” he replied. “Get some slaves ready for transport. They’ll be coming back in the morning.”

“And what’s in the boxes?”

The second question made the leader stop and turn on his feel, his face set in a straight expression, the questioner feared the worst was coming. What didn’t help was when the former threw something with the flick of his right wrist, prompting the other man to catch it out of reflex.

A scream echoed, but nothing else. Slowly, he opened his palm and checked just exactly had been thrown his way.

“W-what…,” he sputtered.

That was more than enough for the rest of the men to start crowding around the catchers. The boss laughed once again, the happiest he seemed to be in months.

“Go on, have a taste,” he said. “ ‘Cause sometime tomorrow, we’re ALL gonna be enjoying this shit!”

A commotion grew from the gathered men, their curiosity winning out. In their eyes, this was as miraculous as the finding of a new Dust vein in this blasted desert. So far away as they were from civilization, working to guard and whip the damn slaves into digging deeper, along with the occasional Grimm incursion from both desert and within the mountain. A chance encounter with another group should only spell trouble, or that they’d been had.

Yet, as he watched his associates begin to celebrate over their new found luxury, he couldn’t help but worry. Granted, it was still better than the usual pissed off look everyone had on other days. However, the watcher in the tower just couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d walked into a Deathstalker’s reach.

Alas, who was he to question. He was just a grunt with a shooty stick.

“They took the bait.”

I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. I watched through the drone cameras as the ‘diplomatic’ party began to return.

“Excellent work, Boman.” I then switched frequency on the WMT.

“All squads, be ready. Our strike begins at 2200 hours.”

“Acknowledged.”

With that out of the way, I returned to viewing the constructed 3d projection of on the holographic table. Based on the reconnaissance of the drones, the camp and mine housed the slaves and security forces respectively. After some discussion, it was inferred that should an uprising occur and that the guards failed to suppress it, then the thugs would hide themselves within the minds and leave their rebelling slaves out in the open desert. Considering the Grimm were a factor, that would leave the people to a slow and gruesome death.

Following this deduction, it was reasonable to believe that some form of long ranged comm existed to inform the masters. Fortunately, we didn’t even have a need for a complicated plan in finding it, seeing as how one of our drones accidentally stumbled on its frequency waves by accident. One of the control room operators assured me that they could jam the signal once the engagement began, assuming it wasn’t outright destroyed to begin with.

Hence, all that’s left was to execute the other half of our plan.

“I can’t believe that worked,” the pilot remarked.

“Would it kill you to have a little faith?” the radar operator smirked at him.

“I was raised to never believe strangers in the alleyway,” he bemoaned whilst shaking his head. “This is that, but like, bigger and not involving syringes and vapes.”

“That’s rather surprising,” I joined. “I thought Nod took advantage of the social instability for recruitment.”

He snorted. “Yeah, and who do you think makes that drive work? Smart people like us.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were of privileged background,” the radar operator quipped.

“… Nod does have its own schools and civil aid infrastructures, you know?” the pilot glared at her. “They filter out the smarter and useful ones from the rest. It just so happened they knew I was a good driver since I helped my pa with deliveries after school.”

“Must’ve been impressive if they made you a crawler pilot,” I noted.

“Well, yeah I guess,” he shrugged. “Back then, I just wanted the benefits since they’d look after the old man even when I was gone.”

“Didn’t he worry for you joining the Brotherhood?”

“We… didn’t have much to lose after mom passed. We had each other, yeah. But it wasn’t the same, you know? It didn’t help that he never remarried, and that the weather just kept getting worse every day. All that mattered at the time was not losing him too.”

A warm feeling overcame me, and my smile widened to better suit this sensation.

“Well, I’m sure he’s grateful for your efforts in seeing his comfort.”

“…. Yeah,” he nodded. “I hoped so too.”

I then turned to the radio operator. “And what about you?”

“Born and raised in Nod,” she spoke with pride. “I had the courtesy of being raised within an orphanage in Cairo. The closest thing I had to parents would be my instructors and Kane himself as my patriarch.”

“Must’ve been quite the cult life,” I dared myself to speak.

“Not exactly,” she said. “Your pilot speaks the truth that Nod tends to scrutinise when separating the wheat from chaff. Many of those who served the upper echelons believe in Kane’s reasoning more so than his charm alone.”

‘Interesting,’ I internally mused.

It is be said that the actual Nod that existed both and before the arrival of Tiberium was many things. Villain, scheming and never with good intention. Theirs was a faction that used everything at its disposal to achieve its objectives.

Yet, I suppose they did in fact do some good when it mattered. For the life of a human was short, and many would choose to solve their present hardships rather than a future they couldn’t see.

Tonight, was a full moon, or at least as close to a full moon as this world could get. Staring up at the fractured satellite, I couldn’t hold back a shiver as I thought of well… the other, less known things about RWBY. I remembered how, like many others, I chastised the show’s faults, however the same couldn’t be said now that I was in it.

Man could never hope to leave this world whilst their society remained fuelled by the literal remains of their past selves. However, Tiberium would change that, and it was only a matter of time until the Brotherhood found out how to reinvigorate the Vein, assuming the crystal doesn’t achieve that itself.

A momentary chill passed me and I clenched my hands to stifle the feeling. A hand grabbed me from behind and I turned to see it was Sergiu.

“All is prepared, sir. We proceed on your word.”

“Eager to spill blood, I see,” I spared him a smile.

He shrugged. “It’s just the jitters.”

I was tempted to tease further, but whatever words I had died in my chest as my awareness was brought back to my current surroundings.

Obviously, by now we’d built a small attack post to better facilitate our operations. In addition to the vehicles and men that had accompanied us, we built new ones that brought our total strength to a grand fifty vehicles with men three times that in number. Overspent perhaps, but I was always an aggressive spender in-game.

Our plan was simple, technicals and bikes will assault from the south, east and west. Thus far, our sensors had yet to detect any external force approaching whether it be man or Grimm. Nonetheless, I opted to prepare a reserve force consisting of five M2 Bradley’s along with spare technicals and attack bikes who were at the ready to intercept in case anything happens.

Around me, there were all manner of men from gunners to operators waiting eagerly for the moment to strike. Not wanting to disappoint them, I mentioned for Sergiu to return to his unit before marching up the dune that served as a nice obstruction to shield our base from camp’s the line of sight.

“Fighters, arm up!” I heard someone shout, at the same time I began my ascend to the top of the dune overlooking the mining facilty.

Reaching the top, I took a moment to compose myself before observing the land below me. While the light from the broken moon didn’t serve much in the way of illumination, I knew well enough the general position of the other two groups. Their numbers safely hidden behind the rises and perhaps just as eager to strike.

Exhilaration filled my being. I felt, and felt the moment of violence fast approaching.

This is it. I told myself. No going back now.

Indeed, whatever happened tonight, there will be no excuse for it being an accident or mishap. This hour, lives are going to be loss, and it will be I who gave the order. Yet, I did not sense my spirit wavering but rather it felt burning.

I caressed the device in my hand. A simple detonator for the air-fuelled explosives hidden away within each of the crates given to the camp’s guard force. By design, they’d detonate with enough force to blow a single story house sky high. Or in this case, guarantee the death of plenty of thugs whether they had Aura or not.

Spinning to face the assembled men, I carefully regarded as many of them as I could. Even underneath their veiled visages, I could tell they were just as eager as I was to get this under way. To practice the very arts that defined their old selves. A chance to be free. Free to do as they are meant to. Kill and fight those that stand opposed to their brotherhood and its plans.

And who was I to withhold them.

Raising the detonator high in the air, I thumbed the button. A high-pitched beep was heard before a resounding boom, and then the area behind me became alight with an orange glow.

I then howled.

My cry, though incoherent, was more than enough to get the point across. Dozens of men howled along as they rode pass me on iron steeds and into the light behind. Some of those that passed closer, I could see the wildness that had over taken them. The sheer glee of being able to embrace jihad in its most raw form.

As the last vehicle passed me, I slowly turned around to regard the view of the camp once more. What awaited me was a breath-taking sight, pass the panic screams of the occupants and the sound of sporadic gunfire and battle cries amidst the roaring flames burning at the foot of the mountain. A beautiful glow, whose trail reached far up and into the night.

It was a moment to be etched into memory.

Sergiu’s vehicle was rocked once more as they ran over yet another person. He’d hoped it was not one of the slaves, but considering they were already entering the compound for the mining site itself proper, he just assumed it to be one of the combatants caught in the headlights.

He and his squad were part of the south group. They and half of the southern group were tasked to sweep along the main road leading to the facility at the base of the mountain. They were expected to rendezvous with the east and west groups who had breached first and went up ahead.

The plan was simple in that they would clear the slave camp of defenders and immediately begin shepherding them to the base. In the meantime, the bulk of the armed forces would kill any surviving guards, if not at the very least hold them off until the evacuation was complete.

Given that the entirety of the mining facility was up in flames, he assumed there was little in the way of them having to ‘hold off’ against a possible counterattack.

“Who the hell still uses wood for building?” someone voiced on the comm.

“Some rich fattie with a peabrain that’s who.”  

“Frakkers can’t even have it in them to pay for a decent rig.”

“Cut the chatter, we’re here,” Sergiu interrupted.

With a series of ‘sirs’ the comms went quiet. Each vehicle either fanned out or separated into groups of four along with accompanying squads in order to better cover the area. Stepping out of his own vehicle, the acrid smoke was what immediately assaulted his senses. His eyes watered, and breathing was difficult, yet still he pushed through the foul air.

“Don’t bother with the buildings!” He addressed his squad. “Just keep the streets clear and shoot anything that doesn’t have a Tail!”

He barely made out the shouts of confirmations pass the roar of the flames.

An oppressive silence filled the air after as the squad and their technicals began their thorough patrol through the facility. The silent agreement among them was to get the matter done with haste so that they could leave just as quick.

Sergiu was of the same mind, but that was more so he didn’t want to be reminded of that incident with the barge. Even though it made him seem weak, the fact was he never got used to killings like these. The same couldn’t be said for others, however.

CRASH!!

The militant was broken from his misery when a building to their right collapse, causing all of them to turn and face the sudden disturbance.

Out of the rubble and what remained of the entrance, a number of figures began to appear. Blackened and shambling, some were quick to collapse whilst others continued to walk a bit further away. One even managed to turn their way…

… and reveal the burnt skull he had for a head.

It raised its arms, and this prompted one of the men to pull the trigger. With a brief rapport, the figure suddenly lurched back and fell to the ground.

A moment came to pass for the men of Nod to process what they’d seen, but eventually, upon realising it had been a living corpse, they slowly moved on. Similar scenes began to repeat as they went through the rest of the site.

Apparently, the air-fuelled bombs didn’t deliver instant death as their commander had hoped. A good number of guards were found wading through the streets in sheer agony from grievous burn wounds. Those few with functioning sensory organs turned to face them, only to earn either a bullet or a full magazine in them. In a rare instance, some might even try to run but would never make it far.

With their task done, they gathered at the to leave. Most of the militants had gathered and all sported a new camo pattern made of soot. A solemn atmosphere filled the air, as squad leaders swapped reports while their men took a moment to relax.

“Ah!”

Hearing a scream of pain, they turned just in time to see a lone man standing on the main road leading into the still burning remains of the mining facility. He wore armour of the ornate kind, a bastardisation of a knight’s armour from fairy tales. Below him was the body of a militiaman, having been slashed across the chest by the long clever held by the armoured man.

It didn’t take as second to put the two pieces together, and the militiaman were quick to respond with a barrage of lead. Their foe responded by charging forwards and closing the distance far faster than a man should.

Appearing in front of the closest individual, the young fighter barely had time to process the threat before the cleaver came down. Not wasting time, the swordsman brought the weapon in a low swing upwards to his left, catching another fighter. His rampage was interrupted when he was tackled from behind by another and held in place.

“Shoot him!” the militant screamed before a vicious headbutt sent him flying back.

The remaining fighters were quick to form a semi-circle and poured their combined firepower into the swordsman. In their panic rage, they didn’t notice their bullets bouncing off the man due to an invisible barrier. Alas, the barrier itself barely lasted seconds under concentrated fire, and soon enough the man was jerking violently from having been punctured by an uncountable number of rounds.

Eventually, the bizarre swordsman finally fell onto his back. Not taking chances, the fighters encircled him and poured more led into his already shredded body, particularly his head.

Another moment of silence soon passed. The gathered forced turned their collective gazes towards the dying flames, expecting more men like the sword-wielder to appear. This proved to be half-right, as a group of five appeared, only far less armoured than the first and wielding an assortment of weapons from clubs to cleavers.

One of them made to scream to something in his tongue, but was cut-off mid-sentence as the militia opened fire. This time, the squad leaders coordinated their units and with the proper aid from the technicals’ heavy machine gun, three of the oncoming threats were gunned down before they could close in.

The last two were disastrous for the closely packed fighters. No less than a dozen men were cut down through the coordination between the two sword-wielders before the rest had the chance to back away and opened fire once.

With their advantage loss, one of the two sword-wielders used their own body as a shield to allow the other to get in close. As their comrade’s body fell to the earth, they let out a war cry and gripped their weapon tightly to try above them, the sole intention they had was to take as many of these assailants with them to the afterlife.

Alas, they would not fulfil their intention as a technical rammed into them and dragged them across the ground underneath the vehicle. Barrier or not, it was clear the sole surviving warrior was dazed and in his moment of incoherence, the militia closed in and opened fire point-blank into them.

Once again, there was quiet in the chaos. Through clenched teeth, each militiaman responded when called by their superiors. After staying long enough to ensure nothing else appeared from the now fading blaze, the troops began to mount their respective vehicles and leave.

“How many?”

“Thirteen sir,” the ashen covered man reported. “They had that Aura thing you spoke off. Shrugged off AK fire like it was nothing at first.”

I rubbed my eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry for not coming more prepared then. Get some rest, you and the rest earned it.”

Sergiu merely nodded and trudged off towards his men. Breaking my gaze from, I looked around me at the gathered assembly of people.

And realised the sheer magnitude of the error in my plan.

I had known that slaves would imply people with next to no rights of living; their very lives hinged on just how kind their master was and how much he saw them as actual human beings.

All of the suppose characteristics of a slave were in full display right in front of me. Deprived of joy, malnourished to the bone and practically incapable of independent thought. The look in their eyes lacked any sort of light, just a resignation that their collars were given to a new hand.

I looked at them, and for the first time in a very long time I found it in me to do something I hated.

Pitying.

The mere thought this feeling was enough to make me sick. It made me sick of these people who I spent time, resources and manpower to free and make my own. It made me appalled and all the more so feeling like I WASTED it all.

Footsteps alerted me to another, I glanced to see it was the diplomat I’d sent earlier that day. He was a dark-skinned man, and the last interaction we had was the brief talk we had over his task in reasoning with the guards.

“Yes?”

“They’re not fit for transport. We’ll need more medical personnel and resources before we can safely bring them back to the base.”

“That doesn’t sound like a serious problem to me.”

“…The slaves aren’t just the problem.”

I turned fully to face him. “Then what is?”

“It’s us sir. We can’t handle them. Look behind you.”

He gestured with his staff towards the masses. They had been gathered into a circle with the militia stationed around them, armed and ready in case anything happens. With the operation done, additional light sources had been erected to better help in navigating around the dark. The scene before us looked like the start of a horrific act.

“Anything we do now will be a complete and utter waste of our time. Even if we managed to bring them back to base, the fact is it’d be a miracle if they lived longer than a year. Also, may I remind you that the base is currently rather understaffed and definitely lacking in civilian infrastructure. This whole endeavour is a complete waste of our time.”

“Watch your tone, diplomat.”

“I’d watch mine if you take time consider your own goals.”

He then stood a little straighter and placed a hand across his chest.

“I serve Kane and the Brotherhood. However, as our messiah is absent, I have been informed it now falls upon you to lead our people. While it is a certainty for newly appointed leaders to make a lot of mistakes, it is more important that they learn fast and be proactive about it. All I ask is that you take the time to consider on your next course of action.”

As abruptly as he came, so too did he leave. I watched as he began to give a speech using the in-built translation device in his staff as a medium. All of it done of his own accord and without my permission.

I certainly felt aggrieved that the homunculi would do such a thing. Unsure of how to vent, I kicked the sand below me and marched off back to the ConYard.

I ignored all the greetings and salute as I marched back to my room. I gave a brief instruction to EVA of what to do and to oblige the diplomats request before I sat down in my chair and asked to be left alone.

Fiddling with the options on my table, I brought up the communications link and called the base. Three tones later, a familiar face popped up on screen. She was surprisingly still in uniform at this hour, albeit she was missing her usual beret.

“Master, good evening. Is there something you need?”

“Just how big of an idiot am I, Rain?”

“What happened? Did the operation go wrong?”

I let out the sigh I’d been holding and my head dipped.

“We succeeded, but I had no idea that ‘they’ would be in such a terrible state. The diplomat said that it was going to time to make them able for transport. Time we certainly don’t have.”

“The flaws in your plan were always there, Jared. There’s a reason I kept trying to dissuade you.”

“But why! Why did it have to be like this?! Why can’t it be things just be easy for once!”

“…. Because that’s what being a leader is about.”

I turned to face the image of my aide on the screen. Inhaling deeply, she then continued.

“As I’ve said before, my people live to serve you to the best of our abilities. It just so happens that you’ve chosen this path out of your own wanting to make a city and that comes with all the problems of one. What I can advise you, however, is to take the time to explore all available options and proceed with your goals.”

“…. These need people need help. What can be given to them?”

“Name it, and Nod will provide. We have access to the most powerful resource on this world. You yourself have already witness it first-hand.”

“The Technology of Peace.”

“And it is as you say, the Salvation of This World.”

From there, the topic began to change to a more mundane setting. We both gave updates on our respective fronts, and I chastised Rain on her sleep schedule. She ended rolling her eyes and shutting the link, but not before sending me a small smile.

I was left to my own thoughts for a while, and I took the time to contemplate what must be done. When nothing outside the obvious came to mind, I immediately went back outside.

Just as I opened the door to my quarters, I found a familiar face awaiting me on the other end. He certainly looked just as surprised as I was.

“Commander,” he greeted.

“Diplomat, just the person I needed.”

I asked him to walk with me and to give me the details on the newly freed slaves. Our path took us to the elevator, and we headed down.

“…. The newly created medical personnel are hard at work in assessing the state of health of the people.”

“Not enough. Get them food and water. I also want the militia to make their faces visible. I’ll have the transports prepared first thing in the morning.”

“But there’s no guarantee they can be moved by then,” he protested.

“No need to move,” I clarified. “It’s meant to be shelter. A moving shelter at that.”

The doors opened and we stepped out. I stopped halfway just to turn and face him.

“You were right when you said I needed to reassess my directives.” I spoke. “Which is why I need you’re aid more than ever now.”

“And what might that be?” he queried, raising his eyebrow.

“The people today and in the coming times are going to act as the flesh of Nod. Whereas the homunculi will be the bone and mind of our organisation, but it will be these people that outsiders will look to when discussing about us.”

Holding him by both shoulders, I went on with my elaboration.

“Do you understand? Nod in Remnant isn’t going just remain as a shadow organisation operating within anarchy. It’s going to be an entire state that operates on clandestine principles, and it is these people that will show that it works.”

“But how certain are you that these people won’t betray us?”

I smile. “Simple answer, my good man. We just have to convince them not to.”

I left it at that and continued marching out. My head was spinning, but it was the good kind of spin. The kind which only comes when one is certain there to be plans to be set into motion.

Who knew there would be so much to do in this line of work? I guess that’s what makes it exciting.

A/N: Another one out! Geez I’m surprising myself in how fast I push these out.

Not much to say this time. Nod begins to make waves in Remnant, whilst its leader learns the sheer depth of the body of water its swimming in. All in all nice stuff.

Perhaps excited is not the right word. However, I view as an author’s duty to see this through, and I feel like that’s the right mindset to take as I set forth into making more chapters.

Anyways, a sincere request for reviews and a good spread of the word for this story!

See you next chap!

Chapter Text

“Here,” I stretched out my hand, a long bundle held within my palm.

A pair of smaller hands reached out and warily took the thing in my palm. Eyes wide and mouth slightly agape at the prospect of what they were getting. Their form -consisting of unkept hair and rags- quickly vanished into the sea of people behind them.

I lost sight of them after a second or two. Blinking, I let my view gradually broadened, and I took stock of the lengthy line of people waiting to be handed out their afternoon meal.

Men in ponchos and cloaks patrolled along the circumference and between the crowds. Their veiled forms hiding the weapons either clutched loosely in their hands or hanging on straps over their shoulders. Most of them had their faces visible; an intentional act to not distress their charges while still keeping them wary.

Aside from these men, there were also other individuals moving amongst the crows. Their forms less robust and, to keen observers, slightly smaller. These people were busying themselves assessing the health of the people and to a certain extent attempting to establish a bond with the various groups.

“Move aside, please,” a feminine voice asked.

“Oh, right.”

Quickly, I moved aside and allowing the person behind me to continue. The figure that took my place was shorter than me and wore the same kind of veil that covered them head to toe like those who were attending the throng. In their hands was a crate full of bundles that were set down and were being handed out quickly to the awaiting people.

She and I weren’t the only ones attending the crowd. Altogether, there were two dozen or so newly made operators whose job it was to bring the malnourished crowd of freed slaves up to stable levels for transport back to base.

Operator was perhaps the wrong term. Rather, they were a hybrid specialist of sorts. The full outline of their goal wasn’t something I’d given proper definition when I requisitioned them from the Hand. Alongside this objective, they were also tasked with building up a level of trust with the population to make it easier for them to be integrated into the fold.

When her job was done, she quickly moved to the side and allowed the next person to begin distribution. It was at this moment I found myself following her.

“Any particular reason as to why you’re not involved in other duties befitting your station?”

“A chance to intermingle with the soon-to-be people of Nod isn’t bad.”

“I highly doubt freed slaves make for a good civilian workforce, sir.”

I shrugged. “It’s a start. Better them than already free people with their own will and aspirations.”

Our short journey took us into the gaping mouth of the ConYard, our destination being one of the crash seats used for in-between ‘packing’ transformations. Immediately, I dropped my rear on one of the vacant seats and pulled down the scarf I’d been wearing up until this point before taking a swig of the canteen hanging on my waist.

I turned to note that my ‘partner’ had taken her own seats. She too pulled down the front of her veil, revealing the youthful face; almost child-like in appearance. From underneath the long cloth, she pulled out her own canteen and drank generous amounts before finishing with a soft sigh.

“How long?” I asked out of the blue as we sat in silence.

“Another day, commander. Surprisingly enough, Benedict didn’t find any serious traces of contaminants or disease we have to worry about. There’re no trackers either. It’s only the people for the most part remain wary of us.”

“They have every right to be suspicious, considering that some are going to be put to work again when we get back.”

“My Sisters and I have talked how best to approach some of your propositions regarding the future of the families. It goes without saying that we need you to hold off on raiding the other slave sites until we can prepare a proper work schedule that suits the populace.”

“Time is not something we have on our side, I’m afraid.”

“But we’ll never achieve syncretism between our beliefs and that of these people. Slaves or no, it is as you say, this is the best chance we have of learning how well these people reciprocate our ways before we start to expand outwards.”

I went silent for a time as I regarded the information giving. Short, vague but arguably within expectations. The fact was I wasn’t working within conventions here, and instead branching off to do my own thing based on what I assume the Brotherhood would do. Suffice to say, I was walking on thin air.

A pair of shoes hitting the floor alerted me to my companion’s departure.

“I have to oversee the transit plans one more time. I’ll send the report to your desk on the latest physical assessment later.”

“Right, take care Khayriyyah.”

“As you do, Commander.”

I watched as the figure walked away and out of the ConYard. Her form being much smaller to the point of being almost child-like. Again, another intentional act.

Khayriyyah and her sisterhood were something I conceived after a long talk with EVA, Rain and the Diplomat, Boman, over the best way to earn the populace trust. The general agreement was that the need for new operators that are able to handle both domestic and social affairs along with the capability to project high emotional empathy to better earn the populace’s trust. Their loyalty remained unquestioned as they were working towards the Brotherhood’s and by extension my goals.

An alarm from my WMT alerted me to the expected return of the patrol group. Almost immediately, from where I sat, I saw a technical appear over a dune followed by half a dozen others as well as accompanying bikes. This group’s return also heralded the return of another group that I knew had been patrolling in the opposite direction.

I stood from my seat and approached the parked vehicles, bringing up my hood along the way to shield myself from the hot climate. The militia gave me space, and some saluted me to which I returned with a nod.

Sergiu was in the midst of discussing something with his fellow squad leaders. One of them noticed my approach which prompted the leader of Squad Three to glance behind him. A quick dismissal, and the man turned on his heels to face me.

“Commander,” he greeted.

“No new development?”

“Nothing,” he shook his head. “The mining site is vacant, and we’ve already cleared out what we can from the structures.”

“What about the mine itself?”

“It’s still open if that’s what you’re asking.”

“And the patrol group?”

“Same thing. There’s nothing worth noting.”

Lingering unease assailed me at the lack of reaction from the world.

Why weren’t we facing consequences by this point? Was what I wondered.

I could forgive the lack of a response from the slavers since we might have caught them at an opportune moment, but the lack of Grimm was for certain to be a sign of ill-omen. Post-attack, I had expected this area to be swarming with Grimm of all kinds like piranhas. Yet, this was day six and there was still no sign of them.

“Sir?”

My inner turmoil disturbed; I addressed the expectant man once more.

“Nothing, good work today,” I tapped him on the shoulder. “Get some rest. Same with the men. We leave early tomorrow.”

He nodded and left. As the men began to disperse, I took a moment to figure what I wanted to do next before deciding to climb up the same dune that the technicals had crossed over from earlier. The view from the top was the same as that night.

In the early evening sun, the slave site still looked just as imposing as it did that night. However, now that it was devoid of life, the place held a foreboding air about it. The buildings had turned into charred husks, the camps and erected tents where the helots used to live had been mostly trampled and crushed by the Nod patrol groups that had returned the day after. The only thing that lay consistent was the mountain, tall and looming and more so without shadow.

My rear found itself planted on the hot sand below. By now, I knew just how long I could afford to sit in the heat without risk of complications and until then. Time passed, and my mind began drifting between the now and the after. Of the uncertain and the absolute.

“Eeep!”

Their squeak was what I heard first, followed by the sounds of panicked shuffling. Taking a glance, I was met with a curious sight.

A lone figure, definitely a child, was trying to climb up the slope. Helping them seemed unnecessary as they were already nearing the top, having clambered up barefooted.

The sight of the little one’s feet on the burning sand caused a twitch in my heart.

Eventually, through sheer force, they’d made it to my side. Even underneath the tattered cowl used to protect themselves, I could make out the trepidation from being watched. Clearly, they were aware I’d noticed them.

Sparing a glance below, I noticed that the rest of their kin was being shuffled back to the temporal camps. Unlike their old abodes, these tents were made out of synthetics and were by far more uniformly in their appearance. As to how they’d snuck out, they apparently didn’t as two men were trailing behind them. A mere look from me stopped the two in their tracks, but they were nevertheless vigilant.

My sight returned to the child, and my head tilted pondering what they wanted. I didn’t have food on me, and my canteen was close to empty by this point.

For a minute, they just stood there, puckering their lips, shuffling their little feet in place. What caught my surprise was when she bowed.

Unintelligible speech followed, I had next to no clue what was said, but I’d been around enough children before to know what was being said was from the heart. I nodded at every word even when they began crying. Raw emotion unfiltered and dripping with every bit of pain from a lifetime of bondage.

Ugly wails began soft sobs as the child finally composed themselves enough to reach for something within her rags. A soft glimmer was seen that made my heart skipped a beat, my shoulders unknowingly tensed.

Yet, I was proven otherwise when they revealed it to be a stone of sorts. Correction, it was a corundum, a variety of colours reflected from its surface which gave it a unique shine.

One glance told me all that I needed of what the child wanted out of this. Where there was once anguish, there was now a light, a spark of great purity. It was more than enough motivation for me to accept her token.

Carefully, I picked the object from their palm. Internally wincing when I noted just how thick and rough their hand actually was. I made to elaborately inspect the rough stone, even giving it a few rough flicks with my finger for added flair.

Satisfied, I stored it into one of my BDU’s pockets. I looked at her again, staring into her eyes…… and I nodded. I didn’t bother to see the child’s reactions as I motioned for one of the militiamen to approach.

He and the other man looked at each before the former shrugged and walked up to me.

“Sir?”

“Your canteen, give it to me.”

Naturally, he gave me an inquisitive look, but nonetheless complied. I gave the canister a good shake and guessed it was still half-full. Opening the top cap, I handed the thing to the child.

Warily, they took the canteen and after a few test sips, began drinking its contents in earnest. Upon handing it back, I gave the container another shake and guessed a quarter remained still.

‘Good enough,’ I thought.

The child was momentarily taken by surprise when I used what water remained to wash the child’s feet. Tried as they might to avoid it, I eventually just started grabbing her ankles one at a time to wash each foot.

I took amusement from the youngling’s spooked expression after I was done. Checking the time on my WMT, I realised I’d spent more time in the moment than I would’ve like. Gesturing with my head, I motioned for the child to return to their people to which they seemed just as eager to do so.

With immense curiosity, I watched as they ran down the slope and back to the encampment. At the same time, I handed the canteen back to its original owner and wordlessly began making my way down as well.

Thoughts of my plans for tonight were simple; I’d clean myself, call up Rain for her daily report, and then discuss one last time with my staff of tomorrow’s intentions.

As I entered the lift, my hand drifted to the stone in my pocket, and gently caressed it. What should’ve brought some feeling of elation, in reality was serving as a reminder of what’s to come.

Afterall, kindness almost never comes without a price.

“…..the newly expanded pavement is complete, we can begin the actual expansion of the subterranean structures. Engineering is still trying to determine the best layout so as to not disturb the Tiberium mining division.”

I nodded.

“Are the defences holding up well?”

“Yes Master. Truthfully, there hasn’t been much -if any- engagement happening since you left.”

“… I don’t like this, Rain. It doesn’t add up with what I know.”

“Are you afraid that there could be something amiss we aren’t aware of?”

“Remember how I told you of the Mt. Glenn incident?” I queried, earning a nod. “While I’m fairly certain we’ve yet to earn that level of notoriety, the fact of the matter is we should be experiencing an increasing number of base incursions by now. Even if it’s just mindless hordes lumbering our way.”

“I’m afraid there’s little in the way I can do to assuage you fears, Master. The Crawler still remains the most advanced piece of equipment we have at our disposal. Furthermore, you should be aware that we are again approaching the redline.”

I winced. “Don’t remind me.”

Redline. The word in this case meant we were going to go bankrupt if we’d push our spending anymore. It was something we both noticed the right before I departed for the mining complex. Naturally, the week spent waiting for the freed workforce to be healthy enough to be moved did some good for us as it allowed our capital to recover.

“That reminds me. Would erecting another spike increase our resource generation?”

“No, I’m afraid,” my aide added with a shake. “The current spike’s base coverage has already expanded over a large area. A second spike would just be redundant. More so, we still haven’t solved the issue with the dormant Tiberium.”

Right, that. “I can’t believe there could be such a thing as stunted Tiberium.”

“Could be worse, Jared. We could’ve been ended up having to wait for a meteor to crash land.”

“By then I’d just end up renaming the Brotherhood into something more to my liking.”

“Oh, really? I wonder what ever that could be?”

I snorted. “Something other than a weather phenomenon that’s for sure.”

I caught her smirk. “See you when you get back, Master.”

“Same here,” I replied, then cut off the link.

I leaned back into my office chair and sighed. Who knew running an evil organisation would be like running any other organisation. Namely, everything still needed time to be carried out or processed.

Oh well, at least there’s no paperwork this early on, was what I thought but dare not say openly.

Tapping a new command on my desk, I continued reading through the reports from the various sub-divisions forming under me. It was mostly related to the health of the former slaves and the happenings among the militia, but the start of something more cohesive was there and growing. I had to make a mental note to do organisational restructuring once we got back from our mission.

Sometime would pass, and eventually I couldn’t ignore the call of sleep. I showered one last time before heading to bed. Perchance, should I dream, then I hope to God that it wasn’t something ludicrous.

The eighth day.

Everyone in the base was up early. There was a steady buzz of activity around the ConYard as structures were scuttled, tents and utilities were stored away, and vehicles were brought to life.

From where I stood below the edge of the ConYard’s roof, I noticed that even the helots were making themselves useful here and there. Boman watched over them with a small entourage, but outside issues with the language barrier, the extra helping hands were quick to pick up on the basics of storing items and furniture away.

Two hours after dawn passed, and we were ready to leave. The helots were boarded onto modified trucks that were based on the Ural 4320 model.

Hearing footsteps behind me, I turned to see Sergiu approaching.

“Sir, we’re ready to move on your orders.”

I nodded. “Any news this morning?”

“No,” he shook his head. “All quiet as usual.”

I bit my lower lip hearing this. “… Be ready to move fast.”

He nodded and brisk walked ahead of me towards his awaiting unit. At the same time, Boman approached me, face maintained in a cool expression.

“The slaves have boarded the transports. I’ve done what I can to explain where they’re going and what they’re future holds. Other than that, their lives are in God’s and Kane’s hands.”

“Excellent. You should board one of the transports yourself, diplomat. Should anything happen then the people would know who to look for.”

“Oh, and where would you be in the meantime?” Boman asked, eyebrow raised.

“The control room, of course. It’s where I belong in this.”

He nodded and turned heel towards the fleet of vehicles rearranging into formation.

“Oh, and Boman,” I interjected, making him stop and turn his head to glance at me.

“They’re not slaves anymore. They’re our people now. I expect you to hold them to that level.”

I didn’t manage to see his facial expressions, but I did catch his delayed nod. With nothing better to do, I turned heel myself and disappeared into the depths of the structure.

“All stations are secured and ready for pack-up, commander.”

“ConYard systems are green across the board.”

“Detecting no weather anomalies today.”

The control room was a flux of reports. Most of which was just people expressing eagerness to leave, and I found myself in agreement.

“Pilot, pack us up. Let’s go home.”

“Roger that,” the man answered. A familiar whirring and groaned filled the air as the structure rumbled out of the sand.

One week, I internally remarked.

One week to arrive. One week to finish. How slow, how sluggish.

I fought to keep down the frustration of the length of time that had passed. All those stories never captured the reality of how movement actually worked and now I was wallowing in the truth that felt like mud in my hands.

And to think we’re expected to do this again, I chastised. Briefly, I thought of possible, faster ways to accomplish the goals I sought to do.

“Alert, enemy units sighted.”

What?!

Stomping to the table on my right, I brought up the 3d map of the surroundings. The sudden atmosphere shift immediately turned into even more frustration at what I saw.

Three arrows with x-crosses overlapping them. They were on an approach towards the remains of the complex.

I turned to the radar operator.

“Get me drone footage now!”

I then turned to the pilot.

“Set us down!”

Frantically, I brought up the comm channel on my WMT.

“All units, we have hostiles approaching the complex. Standby for possible engagement.”

A new tense atmosphere had settled over the control room as each individual worked their trades. The radar operator was the first to report back.

“Getting visual now.”

Live footage appeared on a display above me and I observed the oncoming crafts.

“What are they?”

“Looks to be two light attack craft and one heavy weight. Similar to the slave barge but lacking the sheer size.”

Processing this, I then turned my attention to EVA.

“Is the formation ready to move?”

“Yes, commander,” the intelligence replied. “All units are on standby and await your orders. The slaves are not aware as of this time.”

“They are our people now, EVA.” I corrected. “Relabel them.”

Using a finger, I dragged the display to focus on the amassed vehicles.

It was agreed upon that the mass migration was to be done in a three by two column formation, with Bradley’s taking the flanks and bikes forming a much larger, loose circle further away and surrounding the column. Groups of techincals consisting of two to three squads of militia patrolled around the front and back of the column with intention of diverting attacks and buying time for the rest of the formation to escape should the need arise.

There were around five hundred people onboard twenty-one transports. A force thrice that number guarding them. Against three unsuspecting craft, it was downright overkill.

“Does the enemy have backup?” I asked the radar operator.

“Negative, nothing on the drone feeds.”

‘So not an investigation party,’ I inferred.

If that were the case….

“Ice 4 and Ed 2, break formation with Scouts 3 through 7. Intercept that group. No survivors.”

I watched two blocks, and four arrows break from the formation. Given the distance, the six technicals and dozen bikes were able to regroup into a single, smaller formation whilst on the move.

A sigh escaped my lips. A feeling burrowed into me; the kind that often followed dire consequences. Taking my eyes off the oncoming engagement, I turned to walk to the front of the Crawler.

Folding my arms, I stared ahead into the empty plains once more. Occasionally, I’d hear bursts from the comms, and snippets of the ongoing battle could be heard. I had no doubt in my mind that the men would emerge victorious and -hopefully- unscathed. Yet, that wasn’t what bothered me.

The arrival of the crafts, regardless of the fact they were unaware of our presence, meant that we were getting a reaction. The world was, in small, insignificant ways, reacting to our actions. Surely enough, this group’s disappearance and combined with that of the complex would earn the ire of the owners who would no doubt prepare for the worse.

While I have no doubt Nod will win so long as we were thorough in plan and action, the matter that concerned me was control. Even now, the Brotherhood struggled under my leadership just to steal and ferry slaves back. If so, what would it be then when we come across a major settlement?

All of a sudden, I had the feeling I’d just gotten smaller, and more… devoid.

“Enemy destroyed. Mission accomplished.”

EVA’s sudden report snapped me from my pondering. I turned and walked back to the table. Lo and behold, I was right and that the interception group had suffered next to no casualties. The drone visual feed was broadcasting the wreckages of all three ships, with the militia visibly cheering.

Nodding at the sight, I ordered that the groups conduct a thorough search and gather what they could from the remains. For a moment, I gave some more thought as to what I want to do next before flipping the comm on my WMT.

“Boman?”

“Yes, commander.”

“The enemy is vanquished. Begin the migration.”

The silence that followed was expected.

“… Pardon, I must’ve not heard you right. You’re saying that you want us to start journey to the base without you?”

“Yes, and I won’t be back until I’ve dealt with the other slave sites. I’ll be leaving the administration of the base to you and Rain until I get back.”

“… Commander, I have to frankly say that what you’re asking is downright dangerous. Not only will we be isolated from one another, but without the crawler, we won’t be able to establish the necessary infrastructure to support the populace. The existing structures at the base won’t be able to support any more than what we currently have.”

“My order is absolute, diplomat. Don’t challenge it. Head back to the base with our people this instant and await further commands. I’ll inform Rain what to do in preparation for your arrival.”

“….”

“Do I make myself clear.”

“…. Yes, my commander.”

I cut off the link and took a moment to recompose my thoughts. After, I called the militia leader out in the field.

“Ice 4, anything?”

“We found nothing worth noting except for what happens to be empty cargo containers on the largest craft, sir.”

‘A scheduled shipment then,’ I mentally inferred. ‘Then, we have no time to waste.’

My gaze fell on the pilot once more. “Set us a course for point Beta.”

The pilot nodded and began the packing up the vehicle once more. I then returned to the active call.

“Rally your men to the crawler once more. We’re going on campaign.”

“Yes, sir.”

With my intentions expressed, I was left not much else to do but wait until we arrive at the next site. In the meantime, I had only my mind to entertain me via replaying the endless number of scenarios that may unfold once I inform Rain of the change of plans.

At some point, I started to feel that felling the slavers was an easier task than facing my aide’s ire.

Let it be said that Rain’s oral skills hit just as hard as her physical strikes. It took me the better part of fifteen minutes of hearing her lectures before I managed to interject and explain what I felt I needed to do.

As mentioned earlier, Nod was starting to make waves in this world. Had we made ourselves scarce immediately after the raid, then I would’ve just opted to improvise in how we handled ourselves on the second mission. However, that wasn’t what happened, and we ended up encountering the enemy once more. I felt that it was more prudent to take advantage and continue with raiding the rest of the sites.

Regardless how small it was, had that shipping group managed to find out the state of the complex and reported back, then we would end up losing a certain degree of the initiative when introducing ourselves to the world. According to my rationale, ‘someone’ would know that there exists something in the desert, and this may or may not end up being a prompt for investigation.

In comparison, should we make the first move, then we could shift the blame somewhere else. Raze the small, illegal operation and make it seem that it had always been in ruin. In my mind, the difference between taking immediate action and procrastination was too great a disparity.

Yet, Rain didn’t back down despite this. Her points regarding my sudden brash decision were sound, and I could understand the level of frustration I was going to subject her to by doing this. Alas, she wasn’t the only who could be a nuisance, and I countered back by saying the same thing I did to Boman about my orders.

Our journey took us south this time. Another week passed, and we found what looked to be a small village built in a large circle. A lone tower dominated the centre, and the place partly reminded me of a panopticon, but lacking levels and depth.

Analysing the site took the better part of half an hour as our drones observed the settlement from above.

“Sir, permission to speak.”

“Permission granted, operator.”

“I don’t think a false bartering is going to work here like it did last time.”

“Me neither. That’d be too easy anyways.”

Looking up, I addressed the intelligence.

“What do you think EVA? Should we prepare to do a frontal assault?”

“I advised against so, commander. A direct assault would directly put the slaves into the crossfire. Furthermore, resulting casualties would be difficult to replace.”

Clicking my tongue in annoyance, I returned my gaze towards the developing 3d image of the settlement.

This wasn’t a game. Throwing bodies into the grinder won’t work and would in fact be in direct opposition to what w- I wished to achieve. Gradually, I began to realise how we got lucky during the raid on the mine.

Yet, we couldn’t afford to just leave the settlement either. It was best to assume the garrison was large enough to warrant a serious commitment with our current force. Departing it for the next site would effectively mean we’re leaving a rogue element to run freely behind our backs. In addition, we’d lose what remained of our incognito status just as much as if we engaged in wanton destruction.

“If I may, commander?”

A new voice spoke. I could detect the faintest trace of an accent. Turning to look at the source, I noted it was the co-pilot of the crawler. Contrasting his partners Aryan features and bulky build, the co-pilot was stocky and hard brown hair. His face also looked sullener compared to the fierce gaze of his contemporary.

I nodded for him to proceed.

“We could engage in a faux siege. Bait the defenders into thinking their surrounded and have their communications cut off.”

“That’s an interesting gambit, Bertholdt,” the pilot interjected. “But then what happens after?

“Well, so long as we keep them thinking that way. We can afford to have our efforts go elsewhere.”

Pilot’s comment aside, I gave what the man said a good thought. It was definitely plausible. A brief check on the resource tab of my WMT showed that we’d managed to replenish a moderate sum for which to pull from, and the next slave site was also a week away.

With building speed, a plan began to form in my mind.

“EVA,” I called. “Cue a Hand and VAF.”

It took us three days of lying in the sands before an opportunity presented itself for us. This came in the form of an approaching fleet of sandskimmers. Altogether, there were seven crafts, and they were none the wiser as they appeared over the horizon.

Having laid in waiting for a while, our force was able to conduct a brutal ambush. Loud and very apparent just as we wanted.

As expected, the slave site’s garrison sallied out to face us. Only to run into the rest of our force that was twice their size and had the terrain advantage. Needless to say, the mauling we gave made them think twice before coming out again. Yet, just to be sure, I had ordered the attack bikes to blow the watchtowers on top of having their communications jammed.

With the immediate threat of the site rendered defunct. I was quick to order our immediate departure for the third site. A token force remained to keep up the appearance of the settlement being besieged at all times.

“Enemy base sighted.”

Before I gave the word, the blank screen above me flashed and was replaced with an image of the encampment. Even at first glance, it was easy to tell that this place differed from the previous settlement. Namely, from the sheer number of vehicles present.

“This isn’t a slave camp,” my features scrunched. “It’s a motor pool.”

“Recommend that we eliminate the base and all personnel, commander,” the radar operator interjected.

“Isn’t there any other way?” I openly asked.

“Afraid not, sir,” the pilot joined. “This is war. Only one side gets the rights for the scraps. You of all people should know that.”

I sighed. A part of my self-awareness chastised for such open display, but I couldn’t give a damn given how heavy everything felt lately. I just felt tired at the moment.

“EVA,” I called. “Get me a base up and start production queue B. Hand out attachments to the militia.”

“Affirmative. Building and upgrade in progress,” came the curt reply.

Sucking in the stale air of the control room, I took a swig of the canteen on the edge of the table to my right. Bitter coffee splashed down my throat. Not that refreshing, but definitely focus enhancing.

We’d managed to cut down from a week to four days in reaching the next site by travelling through the night. It was tiring, and nobody including me had slept in at the last couple of days. The anxiety in the air was just a direct result of that, and even now I could feel my heart pounding like a piston.

My eyes fell on the outline of the site in the distance. Unlike the mine and encampment, this site had clear flat terrain for kilometres all around. It was by virtue of us appearing in the night that we escaped detection, and even then, dawn would break soon and somebody will notice the strange structure in the distance.

Having known of this beforehand, I spent the previous two days planning and came up with three solutions for the problem. Now, all that’s left is for the militia to do their part.

Their part….

“MI does the dying; fleet does the flying.” I muttered.

Outside the crawler, the militia gathered around the newly built Hand of Nod mockery.

Men disembarked and leaders rallied to discuss the immediate plans they were to carry out. Time was not on their side, and if they wanted to maintain the element of surprise then they only had within the hour to attack.

Still, that didn’t they had to scramble.

Most of those present were seasoned killers by now. While lacking in formal training, they had tasted blood and the glee of fighting. In their hearts, they had the will to carry out their superior’s orders.

Alongside their chosen men, the squad leaders walked into the Hand to pick up the newly manufactured gear they needed for the battle ahead. Ten minutes later, they came out holding crates that were dropped on the ground in front of them. Immediately, the men congregated and waited for each crate to be opened.

Before that, one of the leaders climbed on a crate and gave a short impromptu speech on what they could expect in the battle ahead and what they were supposed to do. It was only after that they began the distribution.

For the upcoming fight, each squad was given a limited number of attachments for their weapons; two grenade launchers and one flame thrower attachment. The rest of the squad was either given additional grenades or carried extra ammo for the assigned specialists.

Aside from that, their goal was rather straightforward.

Total wipe and no mercy.

As soon as the men were ready, all of those assembled immediately boarded the technicals or bikes and set forth to the base. There was no backup force this time as their commander wanted as much force committed to the attack as possible. Additional units from the hand were expected to arrive as time went by, but as far as everyone was concerned, they were all that was available for the fight to come.

Sergei once more sat in his technical. His fingers drumming his rifle. Tapping his chest with other hand, he checked himself just in case he had left something, but alas nothing came to mind.

“What I’d do for a smoke right about now.”

The leader turned his head to the driver. Like him, he came from the eastern bloc of the old world. Albeit he didn’t know him personally there.

“Maybe if this mission goes well, we can ask to see if our dear commander can approve for some fags.”

The driver barked. “That wuss would probably flat out deny just because ‘smoking bad’ or some shit.”

“Smearing of any kind against an officer warrants severe punishment, Thirty-three.”

“Don’t give me that numbers shit,” the man growled. “I am Stana, and I’m a follower of Kane.”

“And that you will always be,” Sergei affirmed.  “However, if only you’d happened to be to actually listen to our commander’s speeches, then you’ll know that he has no intentions of replacing our prophet.”

The driver scoffed. “Tell that to the generals after Sarajevo.”

Sergei remained silent at this. While his life was ended shortly after the fall of Temple Prime, he was around long enough to know of the growing power dispute within Nod. His and the death of many others can be said were a direct result of this infighting.

Yet, thinking about those men and that of their commander…

“I can assure you this. I don’t plan on letting things pan out as it did before.”

He said that didn’t he? A promise, that was he made… Didn’t their old leaders also….

“.. Hey! Snap out of it! We’re close!”

Stana slammed him across his chest with his palm. Snapping out of his thoughts, he shook his head to clear out the doubts and focus up front.

Sure enough, the motor pool was large enough to the point they could make out details in the buildings. Already the alt bikes had rushed ahead to let loose their first volley.

Pressing an index to his comm bead, he radioed his squad.

“Weapons high and at the ready, men! No survivors!”

The first to strike were of course the attacks bikes and their volley of unguided rockets. Without a specific target in mind, most of the bikers simply opted to hit whatever looked to be important at the time, which included watchtowers, guard posts, emplacements and exposed fuel stores.

The effect was immediate as massive eruptions engulfed the outer areas of the motor pool. Aura or not, those caught within the blast either died consumed by the flames, the shockwave or the shrapnel and debris that were launched by the blast. Only those within the inner areas and to the south were spared, but even then, the suddenness of the situation left many disoriented.

With their part in the opening done, the bikes parted to allow the technicals to push through. Like a battering ram, the lead vehicles punched straight through what remained of the northern gate and headed straight toward the inner areas. Occasionally, individuals would wander into the way of the vehicles and get run over for their folly, much to the annoyance of the drivers.

Upon breaking through the flames, the horde of vehicles began to break off into smaller groups. Each with a simple task in mind.

Those stopping at the centre of the motor pool began making drive-by shootouts of the surrounding buildings. Grenade launchers were used to their fullest to blow holes into the numerous structures around them, each was followed by long bursts of the technical’s heavy machine gun for added guarantee. Militants would be dropped in groups of three or four to scour the ruins for surviving stragglers.

Some went straight for what was assumed to be the residential areas. The power of the flame was put to liberal use as the men with flamethrower attachments mounted on their AK’s sprayed the buildings they passed by with streams of fire. Occasionally, a garrison’s barracks would be identified, prompting no less than three vehicles to encircle and let loose their respective torrents of fire. Those unfortunate enough to escape their burning abodes were gunned down or run over. Eventually, when the fuel for the fire began to dry up, the men used conventional grenades to flush out the remaining survivors.

What remained went the furthest and began striking the remaining, untouched areas of the motor pools in the south. They were joined by the attack bikes that still had spare rockets and together, they made efficient work in reducing the other half of the motor pool to burning cinders.

The morning sky was filled with the roar of fire, the booms and repetitive cracks of violence…. And also, the screams of those afflicted.

Sergiu was on the ground. Without a word spoken, Stana’s semitruck followed by his side along with the other two vehicles and their accompanying infantry.

His eyes burned. His nose clogged. Breathing was very hard amidst the intense smoke. Yet, these things didn’t burden as much as they should have.

Afterall, they were familiar sensations. Familiar warmth, familiar actions, familiar settings.

Even now, he could hear and see things within the dark clouds and these for were recognizable enough for him to guess which was friend or foe.

If the figures are breaking something or cursing in familiar tongues than don’t shoot.

If they cry and plead in any way than put them out of their misery.

The first were numerous, and seeing these shadows at work brought back memories he’d hoped would’ve stayed buried.

The second were just as numerous and seeing them was like looking into his nightmares.

High pitched screams in the air he silenced by pointing his guns and pulling the trigger. Arms reached out, some too close forcing him to lash out with kicks and jabs with his weapon before filling them with lead. Roving groups of figures would occasionally appear in front or to the sides, and for a brief moment, he was reminded that he wasn’t alone in his actions and that his fellow brethren were there to aid him.

Point. Shoot. Move and repeat.

The cycle over and over again as they laid waste to the circuit and snuffed out anything but the raging inferno.

He would turn his head to the back and take heed of his men. Every so often, a pair would break away to throw grenades into the nearby houses. Sometimes, they’d encounter a more fanciful building that was still standing -or at least partly- and they’d break in and sprayed the interior with automatic fire. Like the greater act being performed, these smaller cycles would repeat again and again.

Eventually, they would come across an intersection on the right. Acting on present rationale, Sergiu ordered Stana’s vehicle to follow him to check the new street whilst the rest held the position behind him. Four men took up the rear behind the technical, following closely.

Crash.

At the halfway mark, something burst through a wall on their left. Armoured head to toe just like the one at the mine albeit this time with a spear.

The technical’s gunner didn’t wait as they opened fire. However, the armoured man was just as fast and threw his weapon towards the militant. The weapon struck true below the man’s ribcage and nearly sent him flying from the vehicle.

Sergiu barely had time to process these events on top of the armoured man jumping from the front of the vehicle and onto the flatbed. The four men that had been trailing behind the vehicle had at first been startled over the gunner’s sudden demise, but soon found little trouble in pointing their weapons and shooting.

Bullets bounced off the coloured barrier of the warrior. The man’s response was to grab his spear and then jump off the flatbed and into the centre of the group. Grabbing the nearest man, he smashed his nose over his knee before swinging the edge of his spear over another’s temple. A militant behind him tried unloading point blank onto the spear-wielder, only for the man to lean right and allow the projectiles to pass him and strike the man behind him. Stunned by what happened, said militant paid the price with the spear being thrust through his head.

All of this happened within a manner of minutes. Movements that simply blurred into one another and hardly traceable with the naked eye.

The spearman got into a stance. They made to advance onto the next vehicle but noticed shuffling below to their left. Gazing down, they noticed the man that had first been snafued propped on one shoulder with his weapon pointed at them. With a quick pull, the militant 7.62 calibre rounds upwards.

Unfortunately, poor grip and body position meant many of the rounds went wild. The spearman was quick to thrust and impale the militant through the heart, twisting their weapon for added pain and forcing the gunman to drop his rifle and frantically grab the shaft.

Pulling the weapon up with a roar, the spearman held both dying body and weapon high in the air. They stared forward and watched with satisfaction as the other men began to shrink back along with their metal contraption. Said roar became a gleeful laugh as advanced step by step.

Their advance would be cut short when their vision was engulfed in flames. This was followed by a familiar sensation of projectiles pelting them.

Having forgotten the two men behind him, both Stana and Sergiu had been quick to take initiative. The former grabbed one of the weapons of the fallen; an AK with a flamethrower attachment and proceeded to let loose the flames. The latter was quick to enter a knee stance and fire with absolute precision downrange.

Seeing this, the remaining squad members added their own fire downrange. Care was taken to avoid another friendly fire case, but this didn’t stop each individual from unloading their entire magazine into the spearman.

The effect was immediate as the armoured man’s barrier burst apart. Another spray of flames made them start screaming in agony.

Rifle continued to be administered until the figure finally toppled over, a burning corpse indistinguishable from plate and flesh. His polearm fell as well, but two men were quick to catch it and set it down carefully for the sake of their kin.

Despite the state of the corpse upon closer inspection, the squad leader didn’t hesitate to stomp on the head hard enough to break the brittle surface, followed by a tight horizontal spray from one end to the other. To his side, Stana added his own insult by spitting on the corpse.

Danger gone, but more men dead. A sigh escape Sergiu as his gaze turned towards his surroundings.

The burning buildings and men were now all too familiar.

To him, these were just another evidence of the kind of familiar hell he’d walked into and had no want to stay in for long.

“Everyone!” The squad leader called out. “Form up and let’s move! We will mourn our brother’s later.”

“…,”

For a while, the soldiers merely stood there, shackled in place. A burst of gunfire shook them from their stillness.

“I SAID, MOVE IT YOU MUTTS! YOU WANNA DIE, GO AHEAD AND THROW YOURSELVES INTO THE DAMN FIRES!!”

Their leader’s outburst finally got the remaining members of the squad into action. They began by collecting the bodies with the exception of the spearman whom they threw into the nearest burning building. Amazingly, Stana’s gunner had survived getting impaled, albeit he was bleeding out severely when they found him.

Sergiu watched on as the men picked themselves up. He spared a look at his driver who was attending to the injured gunner as best as he can while another man inspected the mounted machine gun.

A blare from his comm bead alerted him of a development. It couldn’t have been at a worse possible time.

“All squads! Retreat immediately! Repeat, retreat! You’re about to be overrun!”

“What?! Why!” someone shouted back.

“Grimm hordes sighted! Their inbound for the motor pool!”

Well that just fucking fitted.

No! No! No! No! No! No!

NO!

NO!

NO!

Crack!

DAMN IT!

The glass below me cracked. The light projections flickered for a bit but somehow managed to maintain their projections despite the damage inflicted.

Pulling my hand back, I brought both my palms and ruffled my hair as I let out a half-growl, half sigh. My head itching after hearing the latest development.

Of all times, the Grimm had to strike now. Just when we were committed to the assault. For reasons I had no idea why, the damn beasts had decided now was the best time to come for a buffet and, goodness, they brought their entire family along!

At a range of forty-two kilometres and closing, there was not one but two Grimm hordes approaching fast. EVA has set an estimate of fifteen minutes before the fastest of the beasts reached us, and an additional ten for when the rest of their kin caught up with them.

Right now, given that the bulk of my forces were committed to the current assault, the ConYard was practically defenceless save for one or two units on standby for the rest of their group to be completed.

I turned to look at the pilot. “Get us packed! We’re leaving!”

“EVA,” I craned my head upwards. “I want a sensor post dropped right below us. Convert it for comms and to handle the drones.”

Finally, I looked at the radar operator. “Keep watch and inform me as the situation develops.”

All of these orders were met with their respective confirmations. My mind hardly registered as I brought up the WMT comm.

“All units, head west. All bikes, engage with the enemy and stall them. Technicals, prioritise bringing the wounded first.”

With all of it said and done, I was left to simply observe and prepare snap commands if the need arises. Yet, I found troublesome thoughts trying to worm its way up my spine.

Had we overextended?

What about the siege group and the migrators?

Was the base suffering from attacks?

More and more of these maggots began to breed and make their way into the back of my head. I could taste it now, and I was damn near tempted to start biting my tongue.

Then, there was this god forsaken itch on my head!

“Sir, we have a situation.”

I eyed the WMT. That voice was Squad Two’s leader, wasn’t it?

I raised the device and spoke, “Report.”

“Sir, there are numerous slaves and unarmed personnel here. They’re out of the buildings like ants. What do we do Sir?”

“….,”

“Sir, Sir! Respond! We need orders.”

“Ignore them and get out. Don’t stop for nothing!”

“Get them out of the way, dammit!”

He was pissed.

Pissed at the fact he had to get roped into some damned boy’s fantasy. Pissed that he was in servitude to a mockery of the brotherhood he served faithfully all his life. Pissed that he couldn’t even get any fags because his superior was an ‘oh-so-noble’ soul with dreams of being better than the one who truly was above and beyond them all!

PISSED THAT THESE RAGGED SHITS! JUST WON’T GET OUT OF THE DAMN WAY!

By Kane, he could’ve run over these idiots if it didn’t risk the guy on the back bleeding out whatever blood was left in him. That, and there were too many people on the streets that it made it difficult to manoeuvre to begin with.

He slammed the glass behind him. “Get these guys of the damn road! How the fuck are we gonna get out?!”

Nothing happened at first. Then gunfire erupted behind him on the flatbed. This had the almost opposite effect by making the mob drop their heads. A second burst flew this time over their scalps, and that was all that was needed for them to clear the way.

The driver of the technical didn’t hesitate to gun it right after that. He had heard over the radio of the direction they needed to go, and his squad leader confirmed as much. His vision became a blur of corner after corner as the vehicle went from between Gears 3, 4 and 5 repeatedly.

‘Maintenance is going to be a bitch,’ he grumbled to himself.

“Stana! Turn left up ahead. We’ve got friendlies on an adjacent street.”

Looking left, he found the leader’s words to be true enough. Barely, he could make out the shape of a technical between the gaps. Now, just how good he could make that turn was the question.

“Look out!”

Shit!

She had no time.

This place was burning.

Captors and bonded were fleeing.

She had to take the chance. This was perhaps the only time they’d have to escape.

Her will was the only source of strength to move her bones.

It fed on her desire, one she kept bundled and fed well at all times.

The times were not easy, but she managed to make do even if it hurt her body in many places to do so.

Besides, there had been people too. Guards that were of want. Fellow bonded who still retained some lingering humanity behind their eyes.

On days that she thought things were unbearable. The source of her will drove her on. Even now it did so as they ran past huts and tents that contained so many memories.

Her feet trampled on white sand. It burned, but she was used to it. The smell was something else. Even in all her time here, she never thought she’d wade through black clouds this thick.

It made hard to see.

Perhaps, that was why she couldn’t react in time when the bright light grew closer.

She had no time to react as the light swerved and was replaced by a strange white surface that took up her entire view. It crashed into her with immense force that it sent her flying.

Pain erupted from her back, and it became hard to breath.

But it did not matter….

Her bundle was more important. Such was the terrifying speed that she had no time to shield herself.

Working past the pain, she took a look…

The world went silent.

He could feel the churn in his stomach. Breathing was hard, it made his stomach want to empty its contents. Both his feet felt so damn cold at that moment, He didn’t know why.

….. It was because of that figure. It had to be.

Why the hell did they have to stand in front of a speeding truck? Where was the common sense? Just why, why damn it?!

It made no sense, and neither what he did next.

The burning touched his nose and eyes once more as he stepped out of the truck. AK in hand, he made his way around the front and towards the right of the vehicle, hoping to catch the figure.

He found the figure, and something else.

Before him was an upright skeleton. It was black-skinned, almost unnaturally so. What little hair remained only accumulated around the edges of the ears and back. It wore rags just like those slaves their ‘commander’ had so wanted to save so badly. It held something in its arms, a bundle if he wasn’t mistaken.

Howls permeated the air, past the crackling of the flames. He paid no heed to them.

Eyes trained on the figure and its closely held cargo, he approached with the barrel pointed down. The figure took notice and turned to regard him with beady eyes and swollen, blistered lips.

Worry left him. Entranced as he was at the sight.

The figure then turned back to the bundle, which had turned soggy for some reason. Steadily, they rocked the bundle and blew sound through their mouth like a flute made from a rusted pipe.

That was when something filled him. A feeling, or something else, and it had wanted him to leave the figure. It pleaded with him, ordered him, did everything it could to not get him to look at what the figure held.

But he looked anyway.

And within the bundle, broken, and severely disfigured, there was no mistaking the shape in it.

That feeling from before…. It didn’t leave, it died. He was left alone, and in this moment of isolation, he felt something brush with him.

He made to run.

Before he could break into a sprint, there was a sudden pull and the feeling of him being dragged into a confined space. Obviously, he fought back, but his weapon was missing, and the cold state prevented him from having a proper reaction. For his folly, his lower jaw was rocked hard.

The heat of the world returned too, somehow.

“Get a fucking grip on yourself, soldier!” Sergiu’s roar ringed in his ears. “Close the damn door! We’re leaving.”

Wordlessly, he closed it, and he felt the vehicle accelerate ridiculously fast in a short time. His body swayed in his seat without the harness to arrest his momentum, yet this didn’t bother him.

For in the corner of his eye, even if for a brief moment, he caught the figure still sitting behind the corner, rocking a lullaby for the deceased.

The remains of the assault group made its way quickly out of the remains of the motor pool.

Or what we assumed at first to be a motor pool.

If it had been something else altogether, then it was apparent that we will never know now. Not with the place up in flames.

Not with the Grimm bearing down on them.

The last of the Nod militia arrived just as the Grimm entered. Some made to follow us but were easily dissuaded in favour of an easier meal. Even still, I didn’t dare let us stop until we were so far away that the smoke from the settlement was a thin line on the horizon.

The crawler fell onto the sand. The quadruped had reached the closest it could ever be to being tired. Its crew was no different, and even I found myself down on one knee, holding onto the side of the projection table for dear life.

“Status,” I sucked in my chest. “Are we in the clear?”

“Confirmed,” EVA declared. “No hostiles within the immediate area. Our forces are also relatively safe, but in need of aid.”

I nodded, then slowly made my way to the intercom.

“All crews, stand down. Maintenance and repair teams, begin damage assessment. Medical crew, exit through the rear and get a triage unit up and running.”

My strength left me, and I lay with my back to the wall below the intercom. I pulled both my legs up and simply sat there for a while.

“….,”

“You said something, Bertholdt?” I heard the pilot asking lethargically,

“… I want a drink, Reiner.”

“… Yeah, me too,” the pilot turned to me. “What do you think, commander?”

I looked up from between my knees to regard the man. Morality called out to me to decline, but one look at those around me within the room proved otherwise.

My mind overrode my sensibility, and I was aware that if these men were at their breaking point, then the same could be said of those down below and outside the crawler.

“I want a list,” I swallowed. “We’ll start dispensing at night fall once the area is cleared.”

“Okay,” the pilot nodded. “Bless you, commander.”

With that done, I lowered my head and embraced the darkness. Not for a long time, definitely, but just long enough that I could get fresh once more and start walking again.

My job wasn’t over yet. The men down below need to be debriefed, and we still needed a plan on what we did next.

The only thing I knew for certain was that I wasn’t going to like the explanation I got. Afterall, it came down to that moment of realisation from earlier.

That the supposed ‘giant motor pool’ was not simply just that. For if the open comms weren’t enough, then the visual feed from the drones were ample proof of the sin I’d done.

And what’s worse, I was starting to feel less and less remorse.

Oh God, what sort of monster was I slowly becoming?

A/N: CUT! Another publish! Man, this was tiring but fun to do! Suppose this chapter was a big roller coaster, yeah? Fun times I guess.

We’ll get to the wider scope in due time. A story unfolds best over the course of chapters.

Chapter Text

‘There should be a science of discontent. People need hard times and oppression to develop psychic muscles.’

Gravity worked against the norm.

For a brief moment, my feet were lifted off the steel floor as the Crawler flopped onto the earth with an audible thump that could be heard and felt within me. Both my hands reached to the surface of the projection table to help secure my landing, to mild degrees of success seeing as how I was still bent over one knee.

Still, I was grateful my reflexes had saved me from any unwanted harm. Taking a deep breath, I surveyed my surroundings.

Curse the red light, it favoured me poorly now under the current circumstance.

“Report,” I called out.

“Locomotion engine is strained but operable,” the co-pilot spoke across the shoulder.

“She’ll hold, but we need a breather sir,” continued the pilot. “Plus, there’s no way we’re gonna be able to go through that forest without a scratch if we push it.”

Perking up at the man’s words, I stood up and made my way to the front. Leaning over the space between the two seats, I looked out and was partly amazed at what I saw.

Tree. Actual trees! Each about as tall, if not taller than the crawler itself. It was truly an otherworldy thing to see after seeing nothing but sand and heat for months on end. Alas, I could not tell if there was soil and greenery below us, given the elevation of the control room.

“Sir, focus,” a voice came from my left, strained. “We still need orders.”

Hearing this, I shook my head and muttered a soft apology to him. I immediately ordered for unpacking, followed by immediate disembarking of medical staff.

“EVA,” I summoned. “Status report on our forces.”

“Latest Grimm attack has resulted in additional six percent decrease in force strength. Current forces are reaching upper levels of combat ineffectiveness.”

Thinning my lips, I nodded at the given assessment. As the cursors and figures appeared on the now cracked surface of the table, I noted just how smaller the circle covering the crawler had gotten.

For days non-stop, we’d been fighting the Grimm horde ever since they exorcised us from the motor pool assault. It was mostly delaying engagements and elaborate diversions to draw them away long enough for the crawler to gain distance, but still the losses were mounting, especially since there was no time to rest for more than an hour before having to move again.

At some point, our luck to a turn and some of the horde turned to go elsewhere. What remained was considered manageable by the militia. The toll for the journey, however, had still been enforced in both men and ordinance along with rest and comfort. It didn’t help that I pushed for a forced march for yet another day or so, which was how we ended up here. Now, everyone was tired from the relentless pursuit and battle.

 “…. Build a Hand and VAF,” I ordered after some thought. “Whoever is not injured, tell them to dig in. Everyone is to assume they’re standing duties, otherwise.

“Affirmative, commander,” EVA complied.

I straightened my posture before sweeping my gaze over the control room.

“Well done, all of you,” I breathed. “Try and get some rest after this.”

“… Will do, commander,” drawled the pilot.

A brief pause later, I exited the space and into the adjoining hallway. Without stopping, I went straight to my room; a silent prayer was made so that I didn’t encounter anyone else along the way. One that held up until I was safely behind the doors.

The moment I heard the familiar click of the lock behind me, I was quick to vent out all the build within in me a long, cracked sigh.

“RAAAAHH!!”

A fist sailed the air, striking the wall with a dull thump. The force reverberated and sent the fist recoiling back with a flare of pain in tow. Another sigh barely escaped me, this one mixed with the faintest whimper.

Not bothering to take my seat behind my desk, I crashed into the sofa on my right, throwing my head back as I did so.

‘More than a month out in this dustbowl and for what?’

Really, I guess I was stupid to think that this would be simple. Yet, I guess I really should’ve seen this coming.

‘First the journey, then the Tiberium and now this!’ I gleamed back to the recent developments.

My palms reached up to press on my eyes.

Just what the hell am I doing right now anymore?

This was never going to be easy. That much I knew from the start. But to think we were reduced to this? Just savages going about robbing helots for no reason other than so and so? It was and will always sound stupid.

Part of me now wondered, what would’ve a real commander of Nod do at this point?

Slavik? He would’ve somehow found a breakthrough and smashed his way across the desert.

Marcion? Probably talked his way out and eventually got the desert-folk to side with him.

And those were just the named ones. What about those like Karrde? Or the Insurgent from the third game. Hell, what would any other Nod fanatic do, period?

Goddammit, the question just pissed me off!

Another breath exhaled.

“Sorry to do this to you, Kane. Hell of a leader I am.”

‘Hope that thing that sent me here is enjoying his show.’

Simply thinking of it was enough to send a new spiral of woe to merge with the storm raging withing me. I silently fumed; the sides of my temple pressed to the point of aching whilst my heart felt even more clenched.

What was it? Minutes? Hours? I didn’t care, and perhaps not those outside. A thought crossed me, and I figured they must’ve built grudges against me by now. Loyalty was stint when done under coercion, which by now they must’ve been feeling. I should know, since it was certainly something that I’d pick out if I didn’t feel like I wasn’t making any meaningful headway.

And right now, the amount of progress felt severely lacklustre.

Oh, who was I kidding….

Throwing my weight forward, I got up and headed towards the desk. Particularly, my attention was pulled towards the black hard drive still slotted in. The mere sight of it, strangely enough, stirred something other than simmering indignation.

Close to half a year, eh?

I shook my head from the thought and activated the console with a hard tap of the power button. Perhaps it was a sign of my own slips, but apparently the device wasn’t even turned off properly but left in standby mode. Ignoring this, I began doing something I hadn’t done in a while. Namely, sifting through the extensive knowledge stored within the compact storage device.

Whether it happened to be a sign or not is up to debate, but what first appeared on my screen was by no means coincidental.

"...Nod operational doctrine states that commanders should control the tempo of combat operations, avoiding direct contact with the enemy until the time and place are just right. Stealth, speed, mobility, force composition, and operational flexibility are the key to success..."

Excerpt from Tiberium Wars regarding Nod Tactical Doctrines

To one whose played the game where this quote was specifically written for, this was about as familiar as someone telling you how to play your favourite toy. Anyone who has played Nod.in the game knows that you either won fast or outlasting everyone else. The Brotherhood does not have staying power otherwise, and often ends up on the receiving end of an Ion Cannon strike or an armored fist shoved up the ass, courtesy of GDI’s superior armour. I sincerely doubt this changed even with the Scrin.

Wait, hold on.

Stealth, speed, mobility, force composition…..

My mind replayed all the previous engagements we’ve had up until this point. While certainly not unwarranted given the circumstances, there was a certain absence that only now I was starting to realise.

It left me feeling rather hollow.

My mind drifted much to my own dismay, and sadly I couldn’t immediately piece together what exactly I felt that was lacking in the current situation. Yet, this matter was giving me something to focus on other than my own inadequacy and it certainly was a serendipitous gift on its own.

Standing up, I went to get myself cleaned whilst thinking more on the matter.

Alas, the answer would continue to escape me, but it didn’t stop me from thinking up ways to improve. Of which, I immediately sought out the services to make it happen.

Thinking more on the matter of the current methodology of war led to some interesting conclusions.

Conclusions that highlighted how lacking we were as a fighting force.

With what little cognizant I had for war; I knew well enough that it usually meant having the most reach in the field. He who struck first had the better chance of grasping victory as they say.

Out of what I remembered in my days surfing the Internet, I came to remember one form of artillery that dared I say would best fit the current criteria we needed to wage war.

The French Caesar Self-Propelled Howitzer. A mobile artillery consisting of a 155mm cannon mounted on a six-wheeler with a range of forty kilometres – sixty if operated by elite crews and upgraded. This weapon was fast enough to keep stride with our existing complements whilst being destructive enough to lay waste to any targets under ten minutes.

In other words, this was Nod’s bombardier artillery unit from the first war brought to life.

I watched as the first of these vehicles was being gestated within the mechanical birthing pit that was the Vehicle Assembly Facility. Built in the likeness of Nod’s War Factories, these inferior copies were fitted with enough to produce whatever vehicle template was uploaded to the computers built within the pit. The crew, however, was still trained at the Hand and would have to make their way to the pit to pick up their assigned vehicle. Only after it has been moved that the next vehicle was made, and the process repeated.

Just like the previous times, the VAF was on the right side of the ConYard’s entrance whilst the Hand Mockery was on the left. The fifty or so vehicles we had on our disposal were parked right in front of the entrance, ranging from alt bikes to Bradleys.

Standing to the side, I watched with rapt fascination at the sparks and flashes occurring below me. The way the lights danced and bounced off the walls reminded me of fireworks I’d seen and played with in my youth.

That seemed so long ago now. It made my heart sink.

“Some masterwork stuff, right?”

I whipped my head around. Heart skipping a few beats at the voice.

There, standing rather laidback, was a man, barrel chested and looking like he could bench lift stones if he wanted. Much different than the rest I’ve seen, he wore no poncho or hoodie. Instead, he had a basic combat uniform, black coloured with a grey undershirt. Most notable, however, were the bandana tied around his neck and along with the goggles slipped between his belt and trousers.

Chewing the air in my mouth, I turned back to the pit.

“Hey, come on. No word?”

“What’s there to be said? Not like it matters anyways.”

“Hey,” a hand tapped my shoulder, earning reflexive shrug from me. “Don’t be such a pissface. We’re all brothers here, right?”

I looked back at him, doubt slowly forming.

“… Do you know who I am?” I asked, earning a rather long look in return.

“Pfft, yeah,” he tried smiling, eyes darting away from me for a moment. “You’re… one of the guys, right? A part of the crew for the howitzer.”

A hand had slowly snaked its way to the sidearm by my side. Carefully done in such a way that it was easily mistaken for me just nonchalantly putting a hand to my hip. Selling it, I raised an eyebrow and began speaking off-handed,

“Close,” I emphasised with a sniff. “I’m part of engineering. Just got sent here to make sure everything is running smoothly.”

“…. Oh,” he mumbled.

“Yeah…”

“So, uhm,” he scratched his head. “You’re not my crewmate then?”

“No, I’m not.”

We stood there silent for a while.

“… So why the covered face?”

My lower jaw shifted beneath the balaclava. Truth be told, I hated the sense of smell. It was the one part of me that gave me grief under the worse conditions. Normally, it’d be entirely non-existent from the rest of my situational awareness, but today of all days it was acting up and I deduced it had to do with the flora that bordered the desert; the first ones we’d seen in months.

“Hey!”

I snapped out of my thoughts, as we both turned our heads in the direction of the voice. There, running towards us, were five men. Each wore similar to the first man, albeit some sported gloves covering their hands.

The man at the head of the group. He looked rather irritated.

“Where did you think of going off to?”

“I-I just thought it’d be better to wait here-”

“You missed the damn briefing, idiot,” he glowered. “Next time, try and wait a bit before letting your ass muscles do the decision making for you.”

Hearing this, I stepped between the two.

“Now, that wasn’t very nice of you,” I pointed out. “Was the meeting that important that you have to gnaw at him like that?”

The man in question -short-cropped black hair, and green eyes- looked at me.

“And what’s your problem?” he puffed himself. “Get lost if your part of the crew.”

“I’m here to make sure that all is well with the latest addition to Nod’s arsenal,” I spoke matter-of-factly. “And it’s clear now that there are apparent impurities within the first model that need to be listed for review.”

I’m guessing this guy was a lot smarter than I gave him credit. That, or he might’ve had an even shorter fuse than the rest. Either way, he was out to make it clear just who was taller than who as I suddenly found myself off the ground and held up by the collar of my BDU.

“Now listen here smartass,” he growled. “Fuck off, or I tear that sack off your face and give you a nice face changer.”

Holy, this really isn’t my day.

I could feel the knuckles in the hand holding me up pressing against my collar bone. Yet, any form of fight-or-flight refused to kick in as my mind still tried to process the fact that I’m one step away from being assaulted by my own subordinate.

I’d understand if the muscle man behind me couldn’t recognise me by chance, but this guy? Just what the hell was wrong-

Wait, he said sack….

My balaclava again? I understand the other guy not recognising me, but why the hell couldn’t this guy recognise his leader as well? Shouldn’t my voice be a dead giveaway?

Any basic answer I could bring forward was rudely cleared away before it could manifest clearly in my mind when the hand that held me suddenly loosened its grip, resulting in me dropping back down on the beachgrass.

Down on one knee, I was quick in swinging my head up. A quick appraisal of the situation alerted me that a fight was starting to break out. The man that had first greeted me was now squaring off with the leader. Around him, the rest of the crew was circling him like pack-oriented predators.

“I’m gonna make this good,” said the leader ecstatically, his stance balanced on the balls of his feet. “When we’re done, you’ll be my big bitch to do what I plea-”

“Enough.”

All six heads turned. Five sporting various forms of ill-intent. One with a mix of annoyance mixed with worry.

What they saw had them immediately going from one expression to another.

All eyes were on me and my unconcealed face. My balaclava in one hand and the other, my WMT raised to further emphasise my position. I looked from one face to another and noted the brief bewilderment turned fear-stricken look.

“Atten-”

“Shut up, no one told you to speak,” I snapped at the leader, who had reset himself and now stood ramrod straight.

I looked at the rest, noting their irresponsive behaviour.

“Line up for inspection,” they moved at my order, forming in a line to the left side of the leader with Muscle Man forming the tail end of the formation.

The men were now mostly stone-faced. Yet, if they think that was going to save them now, then they had another thing coming.

“You,” I called out as I approached the leader. “Name and number.”

“1930-Frank.”

“Rank and role?”

“Unit commander, I’m in charge of ensuring the gunnery crew perform to their utmost capacity in and out of combat.”

I nodded. Turning to the next man, I repeated the same questions.

Followed by the next man, and the one after him until each had their share of rhetoric questions asked. By the time I had reached the end, I knew their names and roles.

From left to right, they were Frank, Ezaz, Masih, Gagan, Gaizaz and Egor.

I nodded, my mind digesting the information in the background. I felt the features around my eye tense as the response from within me surfaced to the forefront of my mind.

“You all, define yourselves as soldiers.”

They nodded.

“SO WHY DO I SEE DOGS!”

They winced.

“You!” I thrusted, palm up and fingers forward. My attack sent straight to instigator and then receiver. “And you! Why call yourselves soldiers, and then go on to pick fights, like mutts in the damn garbage dump!”

I paced slowly; long strides matched by my squared form. “You think that just because you lot came out lucky from the tube that you get to decide whose more tougher than who?”

“…,”

“ANSWER ME!”

“SIR! NO SIR!”

“THEN START ACTING LIKE IT!”

The muscles on my face pulled as I felt a certain pain flare from my neck. No, it was accurate to say my throat was starting squeeze.

Focus. Use the pain. Snarl at one!

Whipping to look at them, I caught Ezaz and Gagan glancing my way. The stare was miraculously well-timed, and they went back to their thousand-yard stare.

It was also around that moment, that a loud bleep sounded. The whirl of hydraulics drew my attention and I turned to see that the CAESAR had finished fabrication. It sported the signature grey tint of Nod’s vehicles; particularly the ones used in the First War. Curiously, there was a certain haze surrounding the vehicle, and I inferred that this must’ve been the access heat still escaping the surface of the vehicle.

Turning back to look at the men still standing in line, I pondered for a moment just what to do.

Perhaps, the whole leadership thing was starting to get to me. That, and the fatigue and stress was definitely not helping by further warping the twistedness that were my own thoughts.

“Get out of my sight! All of you! I’ll have something special for you lot later.”

They didn’t show hesitance. A simple salute and they were gone. For a brief moment, I caught Egor’s look and there was no escaping the certain look of hurt in his eye.

My sight continued to remain vigilant until they were across the ConYard and disappeared behind its immense size. Only then, did I allow myself to bend forward.  

Pain. Wheeze. Choking.

It had taken me every bit of my will to not let the pain show.

Never once, did I ever thought I’d had to push my voice that far. I’d had my fair share of tantrums and lash outs, but even those don’t seem to compare to this.

‘And these are probably going to get more frequent, aren’t they?’

The thought wasn’t pleasant, but alas it was just another reminder how little control I really had right now.

Deciding to take my focus somewhere else, I turned my gaze towards the Assembly Facility.

And the mobile artillery still awaiting its crew.

Releasing a pained sigh, I brought up my WMT.

“EVA,” I called, voice sounding like grain. “Get me a new crew for this CAESAR.”

“Training.”

“… Oh, and EVA?”

“Yes, commander?”

“Give me a basic summary on troop morale and opinion on the current situation.”

When talking of militia, discipline was by far the least relevant quality about them.

That isn’t to say some groups couldn’t be whipped into shape given time and effort, but the whole point of these bands of armed and violent was that they could be used as a cheap blunt instrument by commanders to avoid having to risk losing more qualified and expensive troops in less relevant theatres.

Still, what I saw upon approaching the grounds around the Hand was nothing short of revolting.

Smokes. A thick scent of what must’ve been garlic. Also, lots of ammonia from having around a couple hundred bodies in close quarters.

There were tents erected and a few campfires. Aside from that, there were close to none in the way of fighting positions or anything army related for that matter. As a matter of fact, most of the men didn’t seem to be doing anything productive.

Why the hell were they just lounging around?!

Pain filled me. Albeit this was different from the one that still lingered in my throat. It wasn’t caused by an external stimulant. Rather, something more indirect; an incorporeal sting.

For a time, I stood there watching the coming and going through the camp. Watching as these… men, stumbled and dawdled almost without a care in the world. My breathing, deliberate and weighty.

It intrigued me still that there was yet to be a single soul that noticed the short man with the balaclava over his head  just standing there. I’ve yet to reason why they can’t notice me with a visual obstruction covering my face, but I wasn’t going to let the opportunity slide in seeing the men with my own eyes as they truly were.

And boy, their words were amazing in how treasonous they sounded.

“What do ya thin’ ‘s doin?”

“Probably bitchin’ to that chick of ‘is.”

“Man, I thought we were goin’ to be seein’ new places man! Not dick around shootin’ a buncha freaks and sand boys.”

“Very sure he has better prepare for a rat hole to go to. Little guys like him don’t last long as commanders.”

“…. Guy sees corpses a first time, and he cries. CRIES! Ha! Little bitch that’s what he is.”

Round and round the string of insults and bad mouthing went. Unaware that the one they were talking about was standing right there, with nothing but a cloth sack to cover him. I briefly wondered where those men from earlier were, and whether or not they’ve yet to spread the word of the earlier incident.

No matter, fiddling with the WMT, I made preparations to handle their crimes immediately.

“Oi.”

I turned to look behind, and there I saw a man with a wide and burly physique. His green eyes glared at my dark ones. His light brown hair was just growing out of his buzzcut.

“What do you think you’re doing just standing here?” he said whilst closing the distance. “Got something to say?”

Punching in the confirmation for my orders, I turned to fully face him.

“Something like that. Happened to be sent by the boss if that’s what you’re wondering.”

He snorted, a small tug noticeable at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, well took your fucking time. Sergei just left with some of the leaders to find him.”

 “Really now?” I raised an eyebrow. “Guess I’ll have to go see what else he needs then.”

I made to move past him but, the moment I neared, a hand reached out and arrested my movement. Its iron grip kept me in place.

“Who the hell are you?” the man asked.

“Just another guy with orders, why?”

“Then why you packing that?”

He looked down, and I didn’t have to guess he was referring to the WMT. I’d figure somebody would eventually notice the one device reserved for higher ranking members, but I didn’t foresee it in this way.

“Its just a tool for work, man.” I tried -unsuccessfully- to pry the hand from my shoulder.

“Bullshit,” he growled, tightening the grip ever so slightly.

“And what is it do you want to hear?” I glowered. “That I’m a fresh middleman here to boss you around in place of the commander?”

“Maybe,” he breathed “but I wouldn’t be acting like this if that were the case.”

“Then what is it?”

“Bottom line is, I don’t like you, and you know what I do to people I don’t like?”

“What? Wait, hold on, I gue-”

Pain. Blooming pain. Just above the belly button. My vision blurred, but the sudden stimulant moved my head downwards for me and I caught the sight of something long being pulled back from my stomach area.

Time seemed to slow, and within that moment, a few things swam through my head.

My fight-or-flight had kicked in. In other circumstances, I’d hesitate to lash out even after a blow due to the repercussions it’d have with law enforcement.

Except, this wasn’t the case here. This was Nod.

In Nod, only the strongest survive.

The present returned. I felt the beginning of a stumble occurring. Seeking to correct this, I leaned forward; legs kicking the ground the moment I knew my weight was now front heavy.

Caught the guy by surprise, did I? Cause I wasn’t expecting him to fall flat on his back from my impulsive strike.

Strike. Yes, I have to strike while he’s down. Where though? The chin, yes!

Don’t think, just do!

SLAM!

Ah, fuck! My fingers.

SLAM!

Shit, that was the teeth.

SLAM!

Hit!

I coiled back for another strike, but that was when a loud clap sounded, and I began seeing both stars and blackness at the same time. Just barely, I registered a burning pain around my ears.

Oh, and I fell to the side of the man I was beating. Not good.

Was this what a real fight felt like, I thought? It really did feel long when it wanted to…..

Ow.

My upper jerked. I wanted to vomit. The black thing from earlier was back and had once again tried to impale me through the stomach.

This time, however, I could see that it was in fact linked to an even bigger, broader black object.

BRACE!

Forcing through the pain, I raised my arms. The wider ends facing the black mass that hovered above. Just in time, I began feeling the blows, but whether because of adrenaline or previous pain, the blows just weren’t registering the same. That wasn’t the problem though.

The real problem was that they were trying to get past my arms.

Equal parts claw and swing. Their frantic blows, reinforced by immense strength, made quick work of my weak form. There was no holding back, the first blow all but crushed my nose inwards.

No time, I had to survive. I had to live.

My arms had been thrown to the side and laid limp. Slowly I worked to find something I could use from my flanks.

As this happened, I tested the rest of my body. The waist and below were quickly invalidated. My opponent just too big and me uncertain for them to be of use. My head could move, but with the pain swimming through my skull, I had no certainty just how many blows I could avoid.

….. Was this guy gloating?

Sure enough, somehow my hearing was returning. I could barely make out what the man above me was saying.

“…..weak! All weak! When I’m done with him! I’m gonna make a point to get into that ConYard! And tear that whimp a new one! Who’s with me?”

…. Okay, I’ve heard enou-

Ow!

I pulled back my right hand as pain erupted from it.

Wait, pain, from my hand?

Reaching out, I tried searching for the thing and sure enough there was that pain once more. Ow! Shit, what the hell was thing?! And was it hurting at the back of my hand when its my palm facing the ground?

No matter, no time to think anyways. Whatever this thing was, it clear fit into my palm which was enough. Holding it close, I prepared my return strike, fighting through newer eruptions of pain as I did so.

The fool’s head was still turned to his surroundings. I guess a crowd must’ve gathered. A part of me wanted to wait, but considering what he said earlier, I opted to be the one to strike first.

Oh, and of course there was the knife slowly being unsheathed from his waist.

It was fortunate that he didn’t press his weight on me. Hence, all I needed was to bend my knees and plant my feet to push forward on the ground.  I’d also taken particular notice to a certain bump on his throat.

My first counterstrike was to pinch said bump. Using the gained momentum, I shoved him back down, so now it was I who was on top of him. With a slap, I forced whatever was in my hand down his mouth, then used my left hand still around his neck to close it.

He screamed. The man started screaming. I relished it.

The euphoria in my mind, cleared the fog surrounding it. Glee turned to fascination then horror.

The thing in my hand earlier… had been a scorpion.

A GODDAMN SCORPION!!

I looked at my hand and sure enough it had swollen. Then I turned to the man below me and noted that the creature’s tail was still protruding out of his mouth and giving him a number of nods.

Acting on instinct, I turned over before taking him by the back of collar and shoving him into the ground; I myself unwilling to remove by hand what I’d forced upon him. Thankfully, it worked and he managed to spit back out the creature.

I then took him by the head and crushed his face on the creature.

I didn’t make the same mistake as he did and made sure to sit on him. My smaller frame worked to my advantage, and I doubt he could do much with me right between his shoulders and above his heart.

Letting go of his head, I let him rise just a bit. The now dead scorpion had acted on reflex and stung his cheek. I then pressed him down hard with my swollen right fist.

Again, I did this.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Again, and again and again. Until eventually, something stopped me. I turned, and there standing was another man.

Not just any man, I realised. It was Sergiu!

Turning back down to the other man still immobile below me, I gave a good look to make sure he didn’t try anything funny. Only when the pressure began to build from my arrested hand did I stand, but not before pressing down on the ground one last time with a left stomp.

Eyeing the leader of Squad 3, I could immediately tell he was murderous. The homunculi only was restrained from killing me, because of the WMT on my wrist. I wondered though…

“You have less than six words to explain why I shouldn’t spray you where you stand and mark you as a casualty for the commander.”

Ah, there it was! Now, then….

“Day Two. MCV stuck. Croatia. Sarajevo.”

Hearing those words, I had already expected him to not immediately grasp the meaning. I waited until past the fifth blink when I continued.

“I took Hassan.”

Reality hit him, and he would’ve taken a step back before I halted him by holding with the left collar.

“We will discuss things in private,” I whispered harshly.

Pushing him back, I turned to look around. Sure enough, there was a crowd around us. They looked equal parts livid, but also wary of what had been done to their brother.

Time to spin it even further then.

I pulled up the man I’d beaten, forcing him on his knees and revealing the swollen face with its minor bug-ridden infestation.

…. Okay scratch that. It was a serious one.

His face was covered in at least ten to fifteen nymphs. I could barely make out the sobbing.

Looking at the crowd, I could see they were equal parts, distressed and disgusted.

That won’t do.

“Water,” I looked behind at Sergiu and his cohort by extension. “Give me water, hurry!”

A canteen was passed to the front. I snatched it, open the cap, and began pouring generously over the man to wash him from the filth. At one point, I’d force his mouth open to drink, then force him to spit the water out in an act of parodying gargling water.

It was a messy kind of work, but it sure enough did it in clearing his face from the nymphs. He still needed medical attention though.

Turning to Sergiu, I motioned for him to take the man away, and sure enough he didn’t hesitate. Along with two other men by his side, they rushed the wounded man into the ConYard.

That left me, alone. Alone with all these people.

Only now did I pull down the balaclava, revealing the face they were compelled to follow. The broken, beaten face.

A wave of surprised washed over the militia. Gasps, whispers, and mutters.

“Brothers,” I called. “You disappoint me.”

Almost immediately, all went silent.

“I placed my trust in you,” I continued. “As you should have in me. Alas, I was mistaken.

I carefully eyed them. Gauging their looks.

“NONE OF YOU! ARE! NOD!” I screamed. “YOUR ALL WORSE THAN IMPOSTERS! YOUR JUST DEEFCTS!!”

“WAS THIS WHAT ALSO CAME OUT OF THE VATS?!” I gestured to the surrounding encampment. “TO LAZE ABOUT, DRINK AND FAGGING FIRST WITHOUT A PROPER DEFENSE?! IS THAT IT? IF YOUR LOOKING TO DIE, THEN TELL ME AND I WILL HAVE A BULLET IN YOUR EACH OF YOUR HEADS. OTHERWISE, YOUR WORTH NOTHING!”

They winced. Good.

“Nothing,” I lowered my voice, feeling the pain in my throat from earlier reaching its peak. “Not good for war. Or upholding anything. Far too useless for Nod.”

“Die,” I tilted my head. “Leave by dying, if your all dissatisfied with my leadership. You all said it yourselves right here, in front of me. Hell, one of you picked a fight with a superior officer. Even if it didn’t happen to be me, that still warrants punishment.”

The crowd looked uncertain now. Guess it was time to close this up.

“One day,” I raised my hand. “I’ll give you one day to decide whether you wish to stay in Nod, or out of it. Assuming you’ve made your conclusion earlier than this, then I implore you to off yourselves ahead of everyone else. Oh, and don’t assume I wouldn’t know if you tried anything funny.”

On cue, pillars rose from the earth. The act scared the men, but even more so was the red beams of light that erupted from the side.

A laser fence.

“Your time starts now.”

“Just what the hell were you doing out there, sir?”

“Doing a discreet inspection of the troops, what about it? Like the new look I got?”

“… Sir, you do realise that you’re alienating the men, right? They won’t take this lying down they will be as likely to go after you as they are your enemies.”

“And what do you expect me to do? Take it lying down? Let them insult me as they please?”

“Nod is not just all muscle and bruises, sir. We do have professional arms and services to deal with this kind of misconduct.”

I wanted to snap again, but the words died in my gut.

He was right.

I’d screwed up, and along with it, the stability of the Brotherhood.

“…. Power is a hell of a drug, Sergiu.”

“Then get it under control, because things won’t be getting easier from here on out.”

I sighed. I turned to look at the man by my side; the one I’d mauled to ‘prove a point’.

He was unconscious. The stress from the incident having sapped him of his strength. Not to mention the poison running in his veins, which left his face swollen.

“How bad is it, Doc?”

Benedict looked up from where he sat next to me.

“Well, I can say that its not the worst thing I’ve treated. You should let me tell you of the ones who come in from the brawling cages in India. Now, those were some real nasty stuffs.”

The man in white was finishing the last bits of treatment on my right hand. The pain from the toxins was gone, but it still was rather swollen in its own right. A syringe was jabbed in and soon I felt the pain begin to subside.

“I meant the soldier next to me, here.”

“Oh, Stana?” He tilted his head at me, eyes blinking. “Well, I can say with certainty that he’s in no danger. But I can’t say how fine he is. He’s definitely had quite a number put on him.”

I nodded.  Looking at the militant, my mind betrayed me as it recalled the things I’d done to him.

It made me sick. A haunting thought came to mind.

“I really could’ve killed him.”

“That you did, sir,” Sergiu affirmed.

“Holy shit.”

I heard a sigh.

Our little group of three went silent. Save for Benedict who began putting away his tools and cleaning up after his work.

“….I need to fix this.”

“That you do sir.”

I looked at Third Squad’s leader. “So how, do I make up to them?”

He shrugged. “Hell, if I know, sir. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to come up with?”

With that he walked out. The doors to the sterile room opened and closed with an audible click.

Another sigh in the air, this time from me.

“You’re tired, sir,” Benedict stated. “Perhaps you ought to get some rest.”

“I’m going to lay with a bed of knives, Benedict.”

“A bed is still a bed no matter the surface, sir. Ignore the discomfort as best you can. You’re gonna need it for tomorrow.”

I stared at him. So badly, I wanted to open my mouth and pour my woes. Yet, the action never came. Instead, I stood up and straightened my BDU.

Before I reached the door, I looked at the unconscious form of the soldier, Stana I believe he was called. I noted the rise and fall of his chest. The way it seemed unsteady as if he was forcing himself to breathe whilst asleep.

The sight made my head feel heavy, and I walked out of the pristine white room that was the doctor’s space with eyes downcast. The moment I walked out, a hand reached up and I rubbed my eyes. Wincing slightly as I realised it was my right.

From there, I made my way up to my quarters. I took extra care to make sure the door was locked as well as ordered EVA to make sure that nothing would bother me unless it was seriously important. I also double-checked and confirmed that the laser fencing would last until 0800 hours.

Checking the time, that gave me around a solid seven hours of sleep.

At least, that was what I hoped.

In reality, I was quick to get up after I found my mind drifting to the day.

My heart throbbed, and I felt the air cold and piercing. My feet carried me from end to end within the space of my abode. The numbed pain pressed against me and made every movement feel like going through rubber.

Never before did I feel more caged in my own room than I did now.

Giving up, I took to seating behind my desk and pulling up the data files. I looked into everything and flicked past plenty of words and lines. The brightness of the screen was alluring in of its own.

Contrasting with the unlit room, the blue wording over grey background made me feel connected to the insects drawn to lamps. It was in that moment of desperate search for distraction that I discovered something hidden within the depts of the Documents tab for the platform.

Command & Conquer 3: Tiberium Wars

….I stared at the program. Stared long and hard.

Then I laughed.

Not the humorous or ironical. Just an empty laugh. It came out in loud hacks, like I was forcing my lungs out.

 When it finally stopped, I looked at the app on the screen….

And I tapped it.

Chapter Text

Light.

Noise.

Squint.

Irritant.

These were the things that aroused me from slumber.

The first thing I did was press my lips together to stop anymore drool from leaking. Shaking my head, I forced myself to adjust to the harsh light of my desk screen.

My eye twitched at what I saw.

Another lost match.

Damn, and I tried really hard too. Goddamn, Scrin AI. I hated it, and I really should’ve known better than to set it to Steamroller. The game was always rigged against me whenever that happened.

‘Still, it was a good match though,’ I reasoned.

It wasn’t that far from the truth. The fourway free-for-all at Dustbowl went well. As per usual, I went for the economic-slash-tech rush and locked the centre of the map with Emissaries, and Disruptor Towers. A line of obelisks with Flame Tanks on patrol that turned the ruined town into a no-entry zone whilst I worked to establish more Refineries and Harvesters for resource gathering. I would’ve won too if not for one small detail.

The Commando.

THE GODDAMN GDI COMMANDO!

The bloody flea got away with blowing more than half the main base before the Flame Tank got him. From there, things took a down spiral when the AI decided to gang up on me and-

Wait a moment, what the hell was that noise.

“Alert, our base is under attack.” Came the monotone drone of EVA.

Well, shit.

I almost didn’t bother wearing my full BDU.

Tying my belt, I stormed out of the room and headed straight to the elevator.

Rain shower.

What sounded like pings and clatters echoed across the ceiling. Only, I was fairly certain that wasn’t water that was splattering on the hull.

“Incoming transmission.”

“Commander!” Sergiu’s voice resounded amidst screams, shouts and distant roars. “We’re under attack! It’s the Grimm!”

“Which direction and what comp?” I asked bluntly.

“The east!” he clamoured just before another screamed sounded. “Their coming from the damn east! We’ve got birds circling us and their skewering everything!”

“Get your men out of dodge! I’ll….,”

The elevator doors chose to open at that moment. My attention lapsed and I came face to face with the last person I’d wanted to face.

His face still looked unnatural from the wounds, but I could still see his wide-eyed expression. His attire -standardised for the current militia- consisted of a black short-sleeved T-shirt over dark grey pants along with complementary Y-suspenders.

We stared at each other. My heart racing and throbbing even harder than before. Unable to find words for one another at that exact moment.

“Sir, sir!” Sergiu’s panic filled the comm.

“Nothing! In cover now while I get us some AA!”

The man took my words as his cue to shuffle inside the small space of the lift. I didn’t begrudge him and soon the doors closed, and we continued moving.

A single glance at the panel confirmed my own carelessness. Time was short and my men were dying. Yet, I could still find the time to be carelessness to press for the wrong fucking floor.

I turned to look at the man beside me. He looked to be impassive to my presence, or at least he seemed to be trying. No matter, our recent violent history was but a splash in the chaotic sea outside.

Gently, I prepared the Beretta M9 still holstered on my waist. Seeing as how I was going down; I may as well take command from the ground. There was not a moment to waste, and it wasn’t like I couldn’t improvise with just the WMT.

The doors opened and we both walked out. I made to pull the gun…

And immediately had to will myself to not drop it due to the sudden burning sensation.

It would seem as if the painkillers had worn off. I looked down and sure enough my hand still looked pretty swollen as well.

I breathed, recollected myself, and looked ahead towards the end of the hall.

Halfway there, stood the man I’d bruised. His face was somewhat calm and collected, but his tense shoulders and angled body betrayed the underlying anxiety and tension from looking at me.

I raised the gun, cocking it.

“….”

“….”

A whirl in the air. A hand lashed out to try and catch the flying object mid-air. The man looked to see the handgun now in his palm. Glancing back, there was now a bewildered look plastered on his face.

“Get out there and do your duty, soldier,” I glowered. “Don’t stop until every last one is dead.”

My voice carried across and when it reached the militant, he snapped to attention and saluted.

“By your orders, commander.”

Stuffing the gun in his trousers, he took off running. I followed at a more sedated pace.

Even from underneath the protection of the ConYard’s roof, I weary of the impacts across the hull. Personnel were running to and fro looking to busy themselves with their own duties. Occasionally, sparks would burst from the roof, and the small streaks of light would make their way to the bottom to sting someone or land harmlessly on either cloth or steel.

I made my way to the end of the gantry that faced the outside. The scenery before me wasn’t pretty.

The vehicles were mostly wrecked, mainly all the technicals and bikes now resembled pin cushions. Further in the distance, I could see the Bradley’s firing their main armaments into the sky in what looked to be a hasty attempt at fighting off the fliers.

Illumination came in the from off either the bursts from the IFV’s or the crimson glow of the laser fences.

Speaking of…

“EVA, how long will the fences last?”

“Currently, they are expected to remain online until 0700 hours.”

“I don’t see any movement beyond them. Are we dealing with only flyers now?”

“Negative, visual instruments have confirmed a large Grimm force inbound from the east.”

‘So those beasts have caught up with us.’

It wasn’t hard to figure out which direction they’d come from. No, what concerned me was what exactly was coming after us.

“Cue the production of as many AA turrets as you can. Deploy as you see fit.”

“Understood, building in progress.”

I then switched channels. “Sergiu, you there?”

“Loud and clear, commander.”

“Where are you?”

“We’re in the Bradleys,” a moan sounded in the background. “We have wounded on board and can barely fend for ourselves.”

“Move to the ConYard, now.”

“But commander, the wounded.”

“You won’t save them if you don’t move. Now hurry!”

Around that time, the anti-aircraft began sprouting from the ground around the ConYard. Unlike the missile batteries used in the First War, these resembled the point defence turrets mounted on modern naval ships and consisted of a single gatling gun with the ammo pod above with a single targeting lase in between the two. For obvious reasons, they had dual function as both antiair and anti-personnel.

Almost as soon as they appeared, the guns whirled to life and let loose a brilliant trail into the night sky. What were once low howls became shrieks as the turrets made short work of the flying Grimm. Two minutes of constant barrage, and there were a number of audible booms sounding as the hostile lifeforms began crashing down to the earth.

“…Sir.” Came the compliance from the radio.

Over the other end of the motor pool, I watched as a number of shapes began to move. Minutes later, the first of the armed transport arrived; their forms scarred and, in some places, pricked with abnormally large pinions.

What I saw next made me grimace.

The first transport didn’t hesitate to roll up the gantry and into its depths followed by others. Only when they reached the dead end that was the wall of the building did they stop and drop the rear hatch.

Men rushed out screaming the likes of ‘Medic! Medic!’ along with the audible anguish of the pained and dying. However, these figures were quickly brushed away in my mind as I looked towards one man.

Sergiu came down, sporting a nasty wound over his left arm. Sweat and blood stained his uniform, and his heavy breathing was apparent. He looked around, lost and clearly shaken.

Nearing him, I demanded. “Report, what happened.”

His eyes snapped to me. “Grimm fliers sir. Nevermores came screaming out of the black. We were caught off guard.”

“I thought I told you to get the men in shape and defences pulled up.”

“We did! But the attack came too sudden and those on duty just couldn’t warn us all in time!”

My fists shook despite the pain it caused me. Inhaling, I continued.

“How many are still able?”

“… I don’t know. Just about most of us got grazed whilst running to the vehicles,” the militant swallowed. “I don’t think you’re gonna find many healthy men, sir.”

I slowly nodded at every word said. Looking behind him, I immediately regretted it seeing the state of those onboard. The first thing coming to mind was that many weren’t properly bandaged and their collective blood practically flooded the floor.

My sight drifted down as I thought long and hard to our current predicament.

Caught unprepared and trapped, with a crippled force strength to boot. The option was clear. There are men that were going to die tonight. However, that didn’t sound as bad without implication. No, these men knew that death was always hanging above them.

It was the fact that they were being sent to an unworthy death that would aggrieve them. Humans can be taught to accept death, but dying pointlessly was another story.

No, death wasn’t the problem here. It was me.

I needed to be removed.

Inhale, count to five, exhale. Repeat.

One…. Two….

“Gather as many as you can,” I looked at the militant squad leader once more. “I’ll have more men and wheels being made.”

I didn’t wait for Sergiu to respond before turning to walk away. My destination was outside. A quick look at the emplacements told me that the skies and surrounding area were clear for now. Many a man were now emerging from the wreckage and other Bradleys that couldn’t fit into the ConYard to seek medical aid.

As I walked, I began issuing production queues fluidly through the WMT. Infantry, vehicle crews and even extra medical and technicians were all being requisitioned through the Hand. The VAF wasn’t idle either as we still needed replacements for just about the entire light vehicle fleet. I counted my blessings as well when a basic skim through the damage assessment tab revealed that none of the three buildings present in the base were damage beyond superficial levels.

However, it soon occurred to me that I’d been walking with little destination in mind, and through my own frustrating realisation; there was an equally disturbing fact manifesting.

Walking between each and every vehicle, I would find no less than two corpses.

Behind me, were three men who tried to rush away on bikes but failed.

At my flanks were two technicals, neither of which had been able to flee. The bodies of the crew had been pinned down on the hull by enormous pinions; the victims locked in a state of panic and rage.

More and more such scenes filled my vision as I went between the aftermath in pursuit of the object of my search.

I started to feel lightheaded.

Eventually, I found at least one of the technicals had survived the carnage. I made to run towards it. Until…

“Oh…,”

A low sound in the air. With the dark still surrounding me, it was hard to make out just where it had come from. The furious beating of my heart was the only other partner aside from the noise.

“Oh…,”

The sound repeated, but now I could distinctly make it out to be a whimper. Focusing on the ground surrounding me, I eventually found the source.

It was a lone man. Lying face first on the ground with a pinion impaled through his back.

I wasted no time in rushing towards him. Kneeling, I took a look at his wound and immediately my heart sank. With movement bordering on clumsy, I lifted the edge of his poncho to inspect the wound.

A solid hit to his lower back, and worse, he’d been bleeding for some time too. A look at his face and sure enough the light was fading. Alas, it wasn’t fast enough.

Rationality put aside; I pulled out the pinion trapping him on the ground -earning a low, wet moan- before carefully flipping him over. Half-expecting him to be incognizant, I blinked when his eyes met mine. A clear. intensity behind them.

“Sir…,” he spoke, low but clearly defiant.

“Yes,” I responded.

“They got me good…, didn’t they?”

“Nothing can be done, just… keep calm, okay?”

“With respect, sir,” he choked before continuing. “That’s a shit way to comfort.”

I pressed my lips.

“But… even so,” he clicked his tongue. “Thanks…. And sorry f-for not being the best I could be.”

He coughed, hard. What spilled forth from his mouth was not flehm but crimson.

“I-I’m s-s-sorry. I’m s-sorry. I’m… I’m.”

I shushed him. Moving out of instinct, I immediately wrapped around him, and held him tight.

“You were better than I could’ve asked for. Priceless. And I pray that more like you could come to carry your will.”

“… agan.”

“…Pardon?”

“Can I?” he asked, voice sounding like a whisper. “Can I… try again, please?”

His hand reached to clasp the back of mind. I did the same in return with my other hand.

“You have my word,” I spoke brief, concise, and with a nod.

Whether he knew or not, I never knew as with a final sound -crossed between a groan and whimper- the dying man went limp in my arms. His eyes rolled back.

I felt… hurt. Stained. The ground below me felt warm and I looked down to stare at the hole in the man’s lower body, barely visible underneath the low light.

With his grip going slack, I freed one hand and reached down into the wound. A part of me that felt sick made me hesitate to touch it. Yet, steeling myself, I swiped my hand over it, feeling the warm liquid smothered over my hand.

Bringing said hand up, I observed the dark stain now present on my palm and fingers feeling the morbid fascination for them.

‘Was this, a living death?’ I asked internally. Not knowing how else to manifest my question.

My ears perked at the sound of crunching. I looked up to see none other than the man whom I’d bruised and given my handgun to earlier this night. He now wore a full getup and had a cloak wrapped around his form and an AK47 in his hands. His head was on a swivel before settling to look at me.

Me who happened to still be on the ground holding the dead man.

‘Need to cover myself!’

Working on synapses, I began undoing the fallen militant’s poncho. The fabric was turned into a makeshift shroud for the man before I dragged him to the side away from the likelihood of being runover by a vehicle. I made to stand before I remembered just what the dying militant wanted.

‘To try again,’ he said. Was that even possible? Perhaps….

No, there was no time to ask or search for a possible solution. However, what I could do for now was fish out his identity, which was a simple matter given the standard dog tags on his person. Shoving it into a pocket, I stood up and continued to my actual intention.

Opening the door and a quick glance at the interior proved that the vehicle was mostly unscathed. Startup was simple since my WMT had the added function of producing the blade of a key as I required it.

“What are you doing?” someone asked.

I glanced up and saw the other militant from earlier now standing outside the driver’s door. We stared at each other a bit before I resumed starting up the vehicle.

With a growl, the engine came to life. A gentle press on the accelerator and I watched the needle on the tachometer rise. I ended smiling despite everything else happening.

Nostalgia has a hell of a timing.

“Hey!”

I was interrupted by banging to my right. I looked and saw the irritated face of the militant.

“What do you want?”

He blinked. “Me? The hell is wrong with you? Where do you think you’re going in this?”

… Right I didn’t think too much on that.

I took a glance at my WMT. Sure enough, the production queue was still ongoing, and painfully slow at that. Then again, it made sense given that these buildings worked strictly off the power provided by the ConYard.

Which, now that I think of it, was a pretty bad flaw as far as mockery buildings go.

Still, I found an excuse forming in my head and turned to look at the man still waiting.

“I’m taking some men to try and run a diversion.” I answered.

“… You’re crazy.” He muttered after a brief pause.

I stiffened. Reaching out with a fast limb, I grabbed him by the neck of his cloak and pulled him right into the door and pressing him to its surface.

“Listen,” I hissed. “I’ve got more than a hundred armed men still alive in that oversized bug in front of us. More than half of which could join our friend on the ground over there at any given moment. I don’t care if you think of me as a cunt or a looney, but if you’re feeling ballsy just say it and I’ll THROW YER RIGHT INTO HORDE MYSELF!”

“Bu-”

“SAVE IT FOR SOMEONE WHO FUCKING CARES! MAYBE YOUR DAMN MESSIAH MAY SAVE YOU IF YOU PRAY HARD ENOUGH!”

Throwing him away, I pressed the gas pedal and got into gear before shooting off. Stopping not for hare nor dare until eventually I found myself in front of the ConYard.

Tents were erected. Their presence was a serious concern given the earlier attack, but seeing the number of men being attended to from behind the windshield alone made me reconsider trying to rebuke the medical crew.

I stepped out of the four-wheeler. Turning my head to the wind, I put all my focus into hearing.

Sure enough, there was howling. Not a moment later, a loud screech filled the air, eliciting surprised gasps and screams from those present.

All heads turned to face the other end of the base where the Hand was. The black figure could barely be seen through the dark, but was concerning was the bony plates protruding from its body and the fact that it was inside the perimeter.

The thing was steaming from where the laser fences had dissected the creature into pieces. Behind the energy fences, more and more of the dead creature’s kin began to gather.

And they were in the midst of encircling.

They came. They crawled. They ran. They jumped. They howled. They barked. They screeched.

It looked as if the dark had come to life on its own. Alive but with the soul intent of extinguishing other life. Humans in particular.

And they were eager.

“Oh man,” someone said.

Those standing or at least able to do so began staring in blatant horror as more and more red eyes began piercing the dark beyond the fence. A few counted muttered prayers of gratitude that the barrier once thought to imprison them now serves their aegis.

Growls, howls and chitters rumbled from the blanket of night. No less than half a dozen sizzling, and yelps filled the air in a short period as the Grimm tested the perimeter of the base.

“We’re so fucked,” someone blurted out.

Another got on their knees and began praying. Many more soon joined him.

“….. and in the days to come, the dark shall consume us. But in His vision, a future of prosperity shall emerge. Thus, we pray for the strength of arms and will…”

Between the kneeling figures, a lone individual shifted through the crowds and walked to the fence, passing the Hand as they did so. They walked until they stood mere meters from the energy barrier protecting them from the outside.

Their presence didn’t go unnoticed. A dozen arms tried to snake their past the gaps in the light. Sounds double that number and intensity followed said limbs; some in frenzy, others in pain. Most clawed and scythed the ground in front of the individual, far too wary of the damage the crimson light could do.

In response, the individual only stared back at the monsters outside…. And sneezed.

Shaking their head, they muttered a low curse over the dust kicked up by the limbs before turning heel. Their new destination was in front of the Hand, and the men coming out of it.

The newly made homunculi sported mostly overalls and medical garments. Their gaze casted to the creatures beyond the barrier and then to the figure in front of them.

Orders were given by the individual without a sound of discomfort.

‘Restore any vehicle they can find still salvageable.’

‘Aid those already present in tending to the injured whilst preparing for new arrivals.’

With a hand to point them in the right direction and a sharp ‘Go!’, the assembled men ran off. The figure turned down to look at the device wrapped around his left arm and noted the production queue on display before nodding silently and turning to walk back to the tents.

There were men assembled now. Many sporting some form of injury or another that had been treated. Their bandages contrasting their dark uniforms.

Darks eyes regarded each and every one of the men present. Noted the fear in the eyes of the men. Noted how they clutched their weapons tightly.

“You all see what’s awaiting us out there,” he spoke, tone level but with a hint agitation. “I’m asking you this. How many of you want to live? A raise of hands.”

All raised, slowly. The figure nodded once more.

“Then stay here,” he said firmly. “Stay and keep close to one another. Maybe you’ll live a little longer if you work together.”

Those assembled blinked before turning to regard one another. Eventually, one of them spoke up.

“What are you doing then, sir?”

“I’m heading out. I’m taking the fight to them.”

This earned a reaction. The men assembled stirred and rumbled at the words spoken.

All except the questioner.

“You out of your mind, kid?!” he exclaimed. “Do you see what’s out there! Those things are gonna turn you to shreds the moment you take a step out!”

“There’s still one technical that works. I’ll have more than-”

“That’s not fighting. That’s running!” someone shouted.

“Bastard is just trying to save himself!” another roared.

The rest of the crowd joined. They marched on the individual, disregarding the fact that they couldn’t harm him even if they wanted to so long as they could see his face.

Mid-pace, they stopped, a hundred beastly roars filled the air. The crowd suddenly being reminded that they weren’t alone this night. Some backpedalled as the horde outside began howling.

While others held a look of mixed fear and apprehension, the individual instead still kept their back turned to the sounds. They regarded the noises for a brief moment, before turning to face the crowd; face morphed into an intense mug.

“I stand here, with only my body and tool, and a vehicle I sported claim to only recently,” he jabbed a finger at them. “On the other hand, you lot, armed and reasonably trained, are the ones cowering in fear and picking on the easiest target for your insecurity.”

The individual paused to breath. “I won’t ask of you. I’m ordering you. Stand. Stand and fight!”

“The time has come once more warriors of Nod!” A hand waved over them. “You who stood against the might of one world! It is your time again to stand firm! To die standing!

His soldiers should never buckle or scream in impunity against the world.

His soldiers cry havoc!

HIS SOLDIERS MUST RAGE!”

The extended hand pulled back and became a fist.

“It’s not enough to live! Fight! Strive! Die! That is my order! That is what YOU will be doing under me!”

Inhale. Release. “I’m going out to cause a diversion. It’ll give the Hand more time to produce fresh Brothers to aid us.”

With that, the individual marched through the crowd. They didn’t even need to force themselves through as the crowd parted like a sea.

Making their way past the triage tents, they barely noticed the multitude of gazes looking their way as they passed. Many of which had mixed awe and bewilderment. The individual ignored or didn’t notice these gazes as they broke through and into the clearing on the other side.

There, they stood. The semi-truck they’d procured earlier in front of them.

Along with a man standing on the back and inspecting the gun.

“What the hell are you doing?” they asked.

“You drove off with an empty Ma Deuce, sir,” the man answered. “Figured I may as well do a quick check since I’m loading it.”

With a click, the charging handle was locked in position. The man looked through the gun’s sights, rotating the weapon on its mount before briefly turning the weapon to face the individual.

Despite having a barrel pointed at him, the individual remained unfazed. Instead, they took one step forward, then another, and eventually walked to the door of the driver’s side. The man on the gun continued following with his aim until he no longer could, then settled with returning the gun to a forward position.

The two then enjoyed the silence that followed, save for the occasional growls and howls of the night creatures. A brief moment later, the engine ignited with a rumble, and the individual leaned back into his seat, eyes closed for a brief moment, a drawn-out breath escaping him.

“…. You can get off now, if you’re done.”

“With respect sir, I can’t do that.”

“Why?”

“Who’s going to man the gun?”

“You know that this could be a one-way trip, right?”

“Yeah, and wouldn’t staying here be the same thing but longer? Also, that would be against my orders. Wouldn’t it, commander?”

The individual turned to look behind, they noted how the man was kneeling in order to see them through the glass slide. Gone was any trepidation. In its place, was a rather… simple look to him.

“…. What’s your name, soldier?”

The man pondered before replying, “Nod militant number-”

“I said your name, not that numbers crap.”

The man blinked, a certain glint in his eyes.

“Stana, my commander. My name is Stana.”

“Stana,” they repeated. “Well, Stana, I know it’s not much, but I’ll say this. I hope those balls of yours don’t slow us down. We’re going to need every bit of speed for what I have in mind.”

The militant barked. “Be at ease, sir. I happen to be a master at the art of balance.”

“I’ll hold you to that until I could place an order for a strong brew.”

“Ha! Just you watch, sir! I’ll show you and these black freaks what a real warrior can do!”

With that, he stood and walked back to the gun. Taking his place, he bellowed.

“Gunner! Ready and waiting!”

What is the fear of death?

A calling? A reason? Just a approximation or outlook of what we call the end?

For me, it was just common sense.

Common sense to look at the possibility of a finish, and say, ‘to hells with!’

Which is impressive avidity for what I’m about to do. Or maybe it is irrational glee?

I’d driven to the edge of the base that had the least amount of Grimm. EVA was handy that way. However, ‘least amount’ still meant a shit ton of eyes looking at us.

They growled just as much the engine of our vehicle rumbled. The white plates of protruding calcium sticking out underneath the illumination of our vehicle headlights.

My heart felt like piston as I shuffled uneasily in my seat.

“Stana, you think you can clear us a way?” I asked my gunner and newly made companion through the comm.

“… I can try, but no guarantees,” he said, the uneasiness palpable in his voice.

I breathed as I thought of a way out of our immediate predicament. Until movement at the flanks caught my eye.

There, two men walked past our vehicle. As they reached the front, they turned, revealing the rifles in their hands held in front of their cloaked forms.

Rifles with flamethrower attachments.

A wave of pressure descended on me. I looked to my sides, and sure enough. More figures had appeared. Some with similar weaponry, others less visible, but I knew they had the same model of AK because it was I who had requisitioned them.

The new arrivals surrounded the vehicle from all sides. Looking through the rear-view mirror, I could see my gunner begin to shuffle on his station; a hand reached down to the pistol still held in-between his trousers.

THUMP!

My head swerved to see what had hit us. The first thing I noticed was the bearded man and the weapon pressed against the door; the butt end up to the trigger being visible above the doorline.

We stared at each other. Despite how irrational it was given the current circumstance. In the end, one broke the silence.

“You going to take the gun or not?” Sergiu asked.

“…,” hesitantly, I reached out and took the rifle in. Barrel raised and pointed to the roof, I made to inspect the weapon. From the furthest corners of my mind, I recalled how to check the safety, pull the magazine and set the charging handle; in what must’ve been my most retarded moment yet in this world.

Once done, I placed in the seat next to me. I turned to look and sure enough, Sergiu’s less than neutral face was staring at me.

“Took your time.”

“Can you blame me? This isn’t the time to be handing napalm to kids.”

“But you’re not a boy; you’re the commander. And we need orders.”

Orders.

Something filled the place between breasts. I looked in front, then to the opposite end of Sergiu, and finally behind through the rear-view mirror and sure enough…

Through the dark, I saw something else. Glints: small, luminant stars that were in pairs and levelled.

Stars that shone in radiance.

Radiance that was pointed. Expectant.

A breath escaped. It felt… shaken.

“Sir? You there? We don’t have all night you know?”

I turned to look at the man standing outside to my right. I took note of his features. Noticed how calm he was now.

Deep down, I absorbed as much of that look as possible into my own being.

“…Make a way for us.” I began after some thought. “Gather any you can and bring those Bradley’s to bear on the east side, by the Hand. I’ll have EVA shut off the upper half of the fence to give you room to fire. Should you see a chance, advance out of the base and destroy every last one of the beasts.”

One firm nod was all I got in response. Sergiu then turned and began barking orders to those around him. There was activity and men running to and fro.

Two more men with modified AK’s ran to the front. Together, the four men brandished their armaments and let loose a stream of fire towards the beasts outside, past the crimson bars. The tongues of heat had an immediate reaction on the bunched-up monsters. Those closest were afflicted with a painful death, while others scurried back from the flames.

Seeing this, I brought a hand to my earpiece and sent orders to EVA. A second later, and the two topmost bars from the fence deactivated. My gunner took initiative and began firing; first in long, sweeping bursts and then in short, sporadic ones.

The sound of brass casings clinking on the flatbed behind me was like a countdown. As I awaited the moment to floor the pedal, a series of thumps on my right once more interrupted my focus.

“Hey, wait for us.” another accented voice sounded on the comms.

Blinking, I was about to question until I noticed bright lights behind me. Looking through the rear-view again, a rather serendipitous sight awaited me.

‘There were other functioning ones?’ I questioned in my mind upon seeing the other semi-trucks gathering behind mine.

Bringing a hand to my ear, I asked, “Identify yourselves.”

“Sir, Squads 33 and 26 at your command,” the voice replied. We’ve got 50 cals and flamethrowers at your disposal. Ready to bring the wrath of Nod on your enemies, sir.”

“Your numbers are mixed up. Are you reformed units?”

“Pretty much, yeah. But make no mistake, we’re not in the mood die laying like dogs,” the voice growled. “Let’s teach these ugly mutts what a true force of power can do!”

I fought back a curve at the corner of my lips.

“Then, follow me and stick close.”

I received a couple of ‘sirs’ just before Sergiu intruded through the comm.

“Commander, we’re ready to begin on your mark. I’d make it quick, looks like the beasts are on to us.”

I snarled. “Roger, standby.”

Switching to a more general frequency, I gave my next instructions.

“Commander to all units and EVA, be ready to break the encirclement. Let’s break them, Brothers!”

“Yeah!”

“Let’s kill them!”

“We’ll make them suffer!”

“EVA, kill the two more of the upper bars, now! All units, suppressive fire!”

Two more cross horizontal bars dropped. The erupted into a cacophony of noise ranging from loud drums to drawn out roars. Heat washed over the front of the semi-truck, accompanied by a bright, orange light that left me blinded.

It was by far the most brilliant spectacle I’ve gotten seen up close and personnel.

Eventually, it all died down and my senses quickly recovered from the brief overload. In its place, there was the loud crackling of flames accompanied by the agonised screams of perhaps dozens of things that had been caught by the inferno that now filled the space beyond the laser fences.

“This is our chance!”

“Go! Go!”

“EVA, kill the fence! Everyone, move on me!”

Acting without thought, I floored the pedal and watched as the meter swung clockwise. The men that were standing in front of us parted quickly to the side.

The vehicle lurched forward, and I found myself thrown in my seat. I barely registered the moment we passed the fence and into the open, torched ground beyond.

Everything else after felt like an entirely different person behind the wheel.

Stana cursed underneath his breath as the vehicle slid hard to the left. All but swinging his chest, he brought the gun to bear facing the base.

Every fibre of his being told him that this was a one-way ticket back to oblivion. However, the thought didn’t make him shrink. Nor did he felt disgruntled by it.

It just made him eager.

Maybe it was just the almost non-stop fighting going on all week.

Maybe it was just the strange, upsetting feeling he had after found out the truth behind the beatdown earlier in the day.

Or maybe, it was just because he finally saw the familiar look in his superior’s eyes.

It reminded him of someone else.

The truck bounced. They’d hit something. He looked to the rear and sure enough, there was something rolling on the ground. The two vehicles behind his were quick enough to evade. Interestingly enough, he noted there was another trio of technicals following behind theirs. He barely caught the briefest glimpse of the laser fence flashing back to life as the second group past.

“We’re out in the open, don’t be fooled by the clearing!” their leader’s voice sounded through the comm.

The truck came to a sudden swerve and halt. They were a good distance away from the base. The tallest tower that being the ConYard looked to be around half-the size of his thumb. He could hear the escorts do the same and maintain position behind the lead vehicle.

Adjusting himself, the gun was swung to face eleven o’clock. Stana squinted through the dark, trying his hardest to see just where the monsters were.

There was no doubt, the monsters were swarming the entire perimeter. White plates reflected the red of the laser fence almost uniform like the back of a reptile. It was imposing to say the least. A number reaching couple of dozen, perhaps four or five? He couldn’t tell, and it definitely wasn’t his problem.

Big flashes and thunder erupted overhead past the beasts. The Bradleys Sergiu was bossing were doing their part to stem the tide, but more importantly draw attention.

“Shit, just look how many are there.”

“Probably a good hundred.”

“The fuck we gonna do against that?!”

“Shut up! And stay focussed!”

No time for second guesses, damn it! They needed to focus. Hopefully, the brat had something up his sleeve.

“Sergiu, you see any big ones?” the boy’s voice sounded through the earpiece.

“Need to be a bit more specific, sir!” replied the squad leader, voice audibly strained.

“Any one of them that isn’t joining that damn frenzy!”

“… No, no, I don’t see it!”

 He barely heard the ‘goddamn’ and he was fairly sure that was coming from the cabin and not the earpiece.

“Everyone, eyes out,” the leader spoke. “We’re looking for any Grimm that aren’t joining the fray. It has to be further away from the base.”

Dawn was no where in sight, but the change in the air was there. Even with all the carnage, the sensation was unmistakable for one such as he. Spending the better part of one’s life living in the woods due to homelessness has that sort of effect.

The faintest of blue. A colour not of dawn, but twilight dominated the air. Ah, the familiar sensation.

‘No,’ he shook his head. ‘Not the time for reminiscence.’

 “Commander, ConYard Control,” a female voice sounded through the earpiece.

“Go ahead, Control,”

“I have something further to the east. Drones are showing what looks like a small pack, but its holding position.”

“Roger. Anyone got eyes on it?”

Numerous gazes turned away from the besieged base and to the right side.

“…. Can’t see shit,” someone else replied over the comm.

“True that,” their leader agreed. “Control, we need you to guide us to the target. Relay the directions through EVA.”

“Commander, we’re advising against that. That pack is close in proximity to the horde. You won’t cross the distance undetected.”

“Then, what options do we have? Are any of our artillery units available?”

They had artillery? When did that become a thing?

There was a long silence. One that was unwelcomed as the crews watched the ongoing carnage near the base. The Bradleys had stopped relentlessly expending ordinance downrange and were now taking turns and performing switches amongst themselves. Long licks of flame could still be seen erratically once every other moment or so.

“Confirmed, commander,” the operator suddenly replied. “Unit 001 has just returned to active status. They’re moving into position.”

“… Who’re the crew?” the leader asked, sounding strangely wary for some reason.

“That would be the First Artillery Batch under 1930-Frank.”

“Alright then. We’ll hold position until the artillery is set.” He replied, sounding almost distant.

Stana took two deep long breaths. The air filling his lungs did nothing to calm him. Rather, it served only to jolt his bones. Not an unwelcome sensation at the moment.

Cram!

Heads snapped toward the noises. Much to their awe and horror, the sound was coming from the fences.

Not even a split second after, chaos filled the comms.

“Their tearing the fence! Their tearing straight through the fence!”

“Don’t piss yourself! Start firing!”

What was once cyclic, returned to full blast as the base defenders began unleashing fire and lead into the living dark. The crimson lines that once permeated some semblance of safety were now beginning to buckle under near invisible force.

“Alert, our base is under attack. Base perimeter security failing.”

‘No kidding,’ he thought.

“Control, status on that artillery!”

“They’re deployed and preparing to fire- wait…”

Oh, no…

“Dammit!”

“Speak to me, Val!”

“Pack is on the move! They’re escaping the artillery’s target zone!”

He could hear the loud, exaggerated breathing through the comm.

“Which way they’re headed?”

“… They’re current path will lead them straight to you, sir.”

….

The sentence was not lost on him. He knew even before it would be said of what must be done now. The commander’s next words confirmed as much.

“Copy, moving to engage. Have Artillery One focus on the hostiles breaching the base,” he stated. “Sergiu, use any means necessary to force the enemy back. I’m giving you temporal command until otherwise.”

With that, the vehicle surged forward without so much as a warning. Using the stand, Sergiu braced and righted himself quickly. Sparing a glance behind, he saw the other five technicals quickly catching up.

“Every technical behind me, be ready to split on my mark. Fire as soon as you can.”

There was no reply, but he doubted the commander was worried.

Afterall, they could already begin to make out the distinct bone plates in front of them. Even more noticeably, were the eyes of the beasts that reflected off of the illumination of the headlights.

“Split!”

That was all the warning the gunner had before the semitruck swerved to the left. Working with the momentum, Stana depressed the trigger of the machine gun as the truck sped by with an arm’s-length to spare by two others. A nice, long burst swept across the dark mass in front of them. Even with the loud thumps of the weapon filling his ears, he managed to catch the roars of rage and frustration along with the faintest smell of something most foul.

Stana tracked the beasts, his sight never leaving the horde. Only, when the unthinkable happened that he released the butterfly trigger.

He watched as a wolf-beast at the rearmost of the pack suddenly jumped and managed to land on the hood of the last vehicle in the formation, causing one of the militants on the flatbed to fall overboard in the process. Much to the horror of the remaining crew, said beast began clawing the driver’s cabin and ignored the gunner and his other companion as they began firing point blank into the monster.

The two technicals closest to the carnage added their own desperate fury into driving away the creature. Alas, it was to no avail as the creature broke through in three swipes. It followed up by pulling the driver from his seat and began gorging into him.

“AHH- AHHHH- OH GOD! HELP-”

Agonised cries from the driver were cut off in mere moments as without a master, the technical swerved and crashed, unable to balance itself with the immense weight of the wolf on the front. Those who were on the back got thrown off into the sand….

…. And became perfect prey for the rest of the pack that had pirouetted and caught up.

“Unit lost.”

Sucking in his gut, Stana did his best to ignore the horror unfolding over the comms.

“You monsters!” someone roared!

With a loud screech, the two remaining technicals of the second group executed a U-turn and began heading in the direction of their fallen brothers.

“What’s going on back there, Sergiu!” the leader replied.

“We lost one! Crew is being eaten alive!”

He heard a curse before the conversation shifted.

“Control, do you have eyes on the pack?”

There was an unnecessary pause before the operator spoke. “Confirmed sir. Their holding position as of now.”

“Okay, have Artillery One fire now!”

What!

He turned his head behind to glare at the cabin.

“Sir, the men-”

“I’ll handle them. Do as I say and get Artillery One to fire now! Notify me when they start shelling!”

Below, the floor began to turn once more as the technical executed its own U-turn. The escorts behind following suit as they made chase for the group further ahead.

“All units, engage the enemy. Pull back when I give the order!”

Whether or not the two vehicles and their occupants heard the words of their leader was left unanswered. Brilliant flashes and bursts of flame were the only indicator that the monsters had noticed the pair. A moment later, one of the vehicles was flipped over from the front. The second vehicle made to escape but was literally held in place by a massive claw before meeting a similar fate when it was bowled over from the side.

Widening his stance, Stana adjusted so that he had a comfortable pose to look through the iron sight. He pondered on turning the knob and switching to single fire, but deciding against it as he should have at least half of the ammo box to burn through still.

The two remaining escorts took their own initiative to evade-and-engage the monsters. Whilst the beasts were preoccupied in gorging on their latest kills, the two vehicles sped past whilst spewing fire at them. The now flaming hides were perfect illuminated and Stana wasted no time in opening fire. The other vehicles joined in suppressing the beasts.

“Artillery One, firing for effect!” the voice called.

“All units suppress!” the leader ordered. “Don’t let them scatter!”

The world in front narrowed until it only consisted of his sight, the irons, along with the flash of the barrel. Occasionally, he’d see blooming orange, the black mass that was his target or a pair of red lights in the dark. Despite this, the militant never wavered. Rather, he fell back and trusted his instincts to guide his shots.

A sharp whistling screech was his only warning before the earth erupted and a violent wind blew. He had to stop firing and brace himself to not fall off. A hand reached up to pull his cloak close to him when he felt granules of sand bombard his face. Soon after that, it dawned upon him that there was a ringing in his ears.

“…. -se fire! Cease fire!”

Fighting through the high-pitched sounds assaulting him, he straightened the gun and prepared for a possible threat. He noted that the technical had stopped moving during the barrage.

Dust clouds made an already low visibility situation worse. However, as his sense of hearing returned, the first thing he noted was a lack of bestial roars. That, and there was also a lack of crimson eyes staring murder at him.

“Commander, confirm the targets’ elimination, over?”

“Standby,” the leader replied. “Stana, anything?”

“No,” the gunner replied curtly. “I don’t see anything.”

“All vehicles, report.”

There were series of noes across the comms. Stana pondered for a moment, before deciding to trust his gut instinct and relax.

Eventually, the dust settled, revealing all that remained of the pack was a series of craters and scattered bone plates. A breath escaped the militant’s lips at the sight.

“Control, we got them!” the leader cheered.

“Great work, commander, but don’t rest yet. We’re getting reports that the Grimm are breaking off from the main assault. Suggest joining up with the base defence forces and routing the remainder.”

“Confirmed.”

‘Here we go again,’ thought the militant. Sparing a quick check of the ammo box, he noted that it was practically empty. He rectified this by changing the box with one of the spares secured on the floor of the flatbed behind the driver’s cabin.

“You ready to go back there, Stana!” his leader called.

“Give me a sec,” he grunted. This night’s stress was starting to get to him already. Alas, sleep will have to wait for now.

A minute later, and he was ready. The charging handle was pulled. The knob turned, setting the gun to full auto.

“GO!” he cried.

His leader didn’t waste a moment in shooting off. The rest of their escorts following suit. Stana’s mind went into autopilot from there. Absentmindedly hearing the chatter on the comms.

With the intensity of the horde weakening along with fresh troops from the Hand, they were beginning to turn the tide. The rest of the artillery guns were manned and in the midst of shelling what remained of the Grimm. The technicals began splitting up around this time. Breaking apart into two groups that began making short work of strays and splinter groups whether it be with guns or the simpler act of running them over.

Soon, more technicals and even attack bikes began sallying out. The latter proved integral for facing the larger Grimm that didn’t die fast enough with bullets alone. The horde eventually was reduced to mere bunched up pockets. Sergiu would take initiative to sally out with the Bradley’s at that moment. Infantry following up behind the IFV’s and made use of both flamethrower and grenade launchers to immense effect.

To say this whole process was cathartic was stretching it. It was more downright tedious after a certain point.

Hours actually must’ve passed by, because he began noticing there was a brightness growing above him. Looking up, he noted the twilight ambiance. He took a guess and looked in a certain direction. Sure enough, he could see the dawn approaching.

The technical suddenly stopped as they approached the top of an incline. A moment later, the engine died and there was the sound of a door opening and then closing. He looked down to see his superior walking out, stretching his back and letting out a quiet mewl. He then proceeded to stand there whilst staring in the direction of the light.

Stana looked, his awareness returning to the surface for the first time in a while. It also brought along with it a question.

“What are you doing?” he blurted.

The question left his mouth before he could process it. By then, his leader turned to address him. Light was slowly creeping up one side of his face whilst the other seemed to grow darker.

Yet, he could still the strange smile.

“I…. like this,” he answered.

…. What?

“Sir?”

“Hm?”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

He had to prod; the vagueness of the reply weighed his head to one side. In response, the smile seemed to grow on the brighter half.

“… I guess you could say this is some kind of afterglow,” his superior clarified. “I might not be processing things right, so don’t mind me.”

Stana hummed. Although he wasn’t satisfied, he assumed that was about as close to the answer as he would get.

The two then continued to stare at the brightening horizon. It was a moment that felt out of place to him, but thinking about it more, that felt unpleasantness may perhaps be the combat adrenaline talking than him. Hence, he opted to continue to enjoy the lull for the time being.

It was this lull that got him to ask a very important question.

“Commander. Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“What are you even going doing here?”

“Enjoying the peace after the battle of course,” he rejoined. “You fell asleep on the back or something?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I meant more on the lines of -well, what are you doing here, in this world?”

“Care to elaborate?” the man requested.

“I think it’s obvious to everyone by now that you don’t seem too cut-out for this job; leading Nod I mean.”

“Oh? Does this have to with how you smashed my nose in just yesterday?” he prodded.

“Only because I didn’t know it was you, sir.”

“And that’s something to be looked into,” he switched topics. “Did seriously not recognised me? Considering more than half you lot back then were wasted, I assumed that it was just the bottle talking.”

He shrugged. “If you must know, I rarely drink in public, sir. Besides, too many piss-faced donkeys loitering around at the time anyways.”

“Nice to see some of you with common sense.”

“Thank you very much sir,” Stana expressed.

“You’re welcome,” his leader turned to fully face him, the light of day on his back made it a tad harder to discern his expression.

The sigh he heard however, wasn’t. “And as for earlier question. Safe to say, that the answer I’ll give won’t be beneficial towards you. On the flip side, I can tell you this. Cometh night or fate, I assure you that so long as we have the means, I don’t intend for our Brotherhood to be anything less than what we were before. We will make a change here, somehow.”

“By change, you mean through Tiberium, sir?”

“No,” he objected. “More than that. The crystal is indeed essential, but it is just a catalyst. A catalyst that requires proper care and instrumentation if you want to produce the right results.”

Even obscured by the shadows, he could tell that the man was smiling. It then hit him.

If he replaced this man with a deep tan with another that had a much lighter complexion that lacked hair but had a goatee, then there was no doubting just what that smile entailed.

This wasn’t just a man who was out of place. This was a man who wanted nothing to do with his current situation, but all the same will do anything to deliver the outcome he wanted. No matter the means.

And here he was at the forefront of this man’s rise.

“…Stana? You okay there?”

He shook his head to clear the bizarre image. Looking at his commander, he could now make out the curious look mixed with mild concern.

“Come again, sir?” he asked.

“I was saying something but then you looked to have spaced out. Everything ok there?”

“Y-yeah,” he stammered. “Just the light playing tricks. You were saying sir?”

The man didn’t look convinced, but nonetheless repeated himself.

“As I said, you and your brothers have a place and duty. Your just as much an instrument into what is to come as I am the maestro. I need your help, Stana. You, and all the others. We can’t afford to be caught in-fighting like before.”

The leader took steps until he was right next to the technical and then raised his right hand to the militant. The act left him bewildered.

“Play your part, and I’ll do mind. Deal?”

Blinking. Confused. He said the first thing that came to mind.

“You’re a strange and very weird man, sir.”

Still confused. Stana did the only thing that felt right and shook the man’s hand. He reached down past the wrist and clamped his hand around the other’s forearm.

“But, for now, you have my will for you to command and direct as you see fit.”

“That’s all I can ask for,” spoke the leader with a sincere smile.

After that, they departed the rise and headed towards the base. Stana was quiet, and so was the commander. The former was certainly tired, and he assumed likewise with the latter.

Yet, a part of him kept thinking back to the -in his mind very heretical- image conjured earlier. It troubled him to think as so, despite deep down knowing all this time that it was just a constructed memory from a different man. A man whose identity he had inherited and proudly wore as a spiritual skin. Even after after the dialogue he had with his present leader, that notion still remained unchanged.

He thought a bit more, but in the end, he dropped the matter.

It wasn’t in his place to think.

He was a follower of Kane and the Brotherhood. Always has been. Always will be.

But for now, he’ll follow this man. This Jared if he remembered right.

For it was the only thing that made sense in this strange new life.

We entered the base through the same way the Bradleys had exited to join the fight in the night. Albeit I suppose that didn’t matter given that the laser fence had finally lost power, leaving only the tall steel poles that once projected the perimeter.

The compound was a mess for lack of a better word.

New tents had been erected and there was a host of new personnel running about. Fresh militants were out on patrol or helping to salvage and recover equipment. Medicals applied healing arts to their charges, and the occasional technician could be seen making their way through the crowds with tools in hand.

With great care, I manoeuvred through the throngs of people and to the motor pool. It was apparent that we weren’t the first to come through, and that made it easier for me get it done with.

After I parked and made sure the vehicle was secured in its place in the motor pool, I decided to head to the Hand of Nod to satiate my curiosity. Having seen the building on my way in earlier, I was reminded of what the dying militant had said to me before he passed on. If his words could be made true, then perhaps I have a new trick up my sleeve.

However, I wasn’t expecting the number of eyes watching me as I slipped through the crowds. I knew that it was expected that subordinates pay respect if a leader was up close or passing by. What I didn’t fully grasp was why everything went still as I walked across the space on my way to the aforementioned building.

There were dozens, no, hundreds of eyes on me. My head was on a swivel, and I did my best to keep it controlled even as I noticed Sergiu approaching me. The man had definitely seen better days as evident by the bandages he now wore.

“Commander,” he greeted.

“Sergiu,” I replied.

We stared at each other. The pounding of my heart threatened to make me quake. To resist, I made dialogue.

“Any reason for approaching me?”

“None too important. Just thought I’d give you this.”

He raised a hand and I steeled myself for what was to come. In the corner of my vision, I only barely made out the tense form of Stana. His face set in a tight expression.

Alas, it proved unnecessary as Sergiu’s hand came to a diagonal place across his chest. His posture straightened and, in his eyes, I could see a look that made me feel warm.

“What you did last night was nothing short of brazen, sir,” the squad leader grunted. “That could’ve gone sideways, and we’d all be dead now.”

“I did what I-”

“I’m not finished,” he interrupted. “As I was going to say, don’t do that kind of stunt often. We can’t afford to lose you. Not here. Not ever.”

I blinked. Finding myself at a loss for words, I looked around and much to my own amazement, I found that others had followed Sergiu’s example. Even Stana, the man whom only yesterday I’d beaten brutally, was giving me a chest salute.

“You’ve got a lot to learn, sir,” Sergiu continued. “We’ll help what we can. Just give us the word.”

“….”

I was at a loss for what to say. I continued regarding the men around me and the one in front of me. Uncertain on how to proceed, I opted for a simple, cordial reply.

“I’m honoured at you praise and concern. Let’s make it right then. My brothers, we must reorganise and be ready to move.”

“The times will not yield.” I forewarned.

A/N: It’s been a while. Kept you waiting, huh?

Not much to say, but I’ve had time as I was reading this chapter to reflect and build a new mindset for writing.

I’m not giving up. This is all part of my own experience.

Chapter Text

2/2/2025 A/N: With thanks to the aforementioned, I have taken the time to begin adding brackets to signify how much time before canon a new chapter takes place. This in no small part is to help better the readability and comprehension of events that take place in the story on the road to the starting point of RWBY.

In a chain of command, responsibility and accountability are clearly assigned; each manager has their own ultimate oversight and responsibility for a group of employees performing a specific function.

Rest was important for recovery.

It didn’t matter if it was fatigue, sickness or injury. Natural law was dictated such that if one in any of these three categories were related then the individual should by all accounts be given the time to recuperate in order to bring their full potential to bear once more.

Which was why the two men who found themselves standing at the entrance to then ConYard were rather reluctant to answer their most recent summons. Even if, the one calling for them had proven to be within the realm of respect, if barely.

“You got any idea why we’re getting called?” One of the two asked.

“No,” the other figure nodded. “Figured you’d know considering your recent promotion.”

“Like it means anything to play bodyguard. It’s punishment. Has to be.”

The other individual mirthful chuckled. “Don’t be so riled up. Pray hard and you may find yourself playing chaperone for our glorious leader.”

“What happened to -and I quote- ‘don’t do something brash like that again’?”

“You say like it’s going to stop His Enigmatic-ness from acting on his own whims.”

“Whatever,” the first one shrugged. “Let’s get this over with.”

The two were silent as they made their way up to the control room of the ConYard. Thankfully, it was a far less complicated journey than it would’ve been otherwise. Such was the wonders of prefab space and military pragmatism, even when applied to a giant city builder.

Generally speaking, there wasn’t much grandeur when it came to meeting their leader within the confined spaces that was the brain of the ConYard. There were the two holographic projection tables along with additional monitors from extrusions right above each appliance. Operators quietly went about their tasks, offering little concern for who just entered.

Of course, there was also their commander. His back hunched over the table on the right overlooking a map. The details of which escaped either of the men as they came in.

Standing a short distance away, they both snapped to attention.

“Morning commander,” the second individual greeted, taking the lead. “Squad Leader Sergiu and Militant Stana reporting as ordered.”

Turning to address the new arrivals, the leader smiled. “Morning gentlemen. Sorry to disturb your sleep so early, but I figured I’d get this over with early, so you’ll know what’s expected.”

“Not at all, sir. It’s honour you’d entrust us with whatever you wish to say.”

Their superior rolled his eyes. “Roll back on the fanciness, Sergiu. You too, Stana. I just want to let you both in our next move.”

Both men gave a simple ‘sir’ in response. Taking it as their cue, the stiff poise of attention was slackened to a certain degree. However, they suddenly became alarmed due a sudden sneezing fit coming from their commander who brought a palm to his face and looked away in response.

“Ahcoo! Ah, shit…,” he let out a strained curse.

“You alright, sir?” Sergiu asked, worryingly.

“Yeah,” he waved off whilst clearing his throat. “Just need to get some rest after this. Ignore me.”

He then clapped his hands together. “Anyways, the reason I asked you to come here, is to officially announce the new organisational structure I’ve spent planning out since yesterday.”

Hearing this, both men perked up.

They watched as their leader turned to pick up something from the table behind him. It was revealed to be a box with a top lid. He held the thing close and just above his waistline.

“Now, before I open this, allow me to address something. First off, you’re both relieved of your current duties.”

“…. What?” both men spoke in unison.

A smile curved up the leader’s face as he addressed the one to his left.

“Sergiu, for your continued service as my go-to liaison in the field, I hereby promote you to Militant-Captain. It’s your full-time job now to lead the troops in the field as well as relay all info from soldier to superior. It is effective immediately.”

He then addressed the man to his right.

“Stana, your bravery is noted; regardless how dangerous it can be both to you and those around you. I owe you big time for your service as my gunner. I like to see what you can do with improving that behaviour by making you, my bodyguard. Also, in place of the previous leader, I’m placing you as Militant-Sergeant of Squad 3. The entire unit will also be transferred to act as my personal guard.”

Before they were given time to process their new stations. The commander opened the box to reveal two sets of medals.

In the hearts of both men, a sudden frost washed over them.

Sergiu was the first to speak up. “Sir? What is this?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” He almost gushed. “These are a sign of your merits in the field.”

The two men, still speechless, opted to take their time in appraising the two marks that were laid neatly within the box.

Each medal was a single bar with a set of two triangles arranged horizontally on each end. Both men recognised these as the Veteran’s Rank. The lowest of three that could be earned on the field.

It was a high honour for anyone to receive such an award regardless. Such was its sacredness, that officer ranks above a certain threshold were banned from being granted it. Only those who survived over long periods out in a battlefield dominated by mass fabrication and patented armies were allowed to receive it. In practice, the rare trooper to reach Heroic can expect even those close to the Inner Circle to pay attention in their presence.

And here was not one, but two such medals being given out.

“No,” Stana shook his head. “This has to be some sort of joke.

“No, it isn’t soldier,” the leader stressed, his face settling in a frown. “If anything, its overdue and I’m neither overselling it nor undermining its importance. So, take it.”

Sensing the demand, both men were quick to pick up their respective medals. The underside had a simple pin to fashion on their fatigues. It was only after both men had their medals fastened securely did they noticed a third item within the box. That being, a chamfered triangle, but in place of a scorpion tail there was an upward arrow.

The symbol of Nod’s officer corps.

Despite some hesitance, Sergiu reached for the badge. Unlike the medals, the badge had to be sewn on. Alas, such details mattered little for the moment.

Nodding in satisfaction, their commander closed the box and placed back on the table’s edge with an audible thump of faux leather on metal.

“Now, that’s done. Let’s get to the real work,” he motioned to the table. “You can gawk over your rewards after.”

Both men wordlessly moved to his sides. Sergiu stood next to the length of the table whilst Stana occupied the breadth and had the light from the windows to his back. Together, they observed the map on display.

“I’ll make this simple, men,” he began. “We’re going to continue with our original objectives. All that’s left now is the fourth point, which is about a day’s away.”

“That’s fine,” Sergiu agreed. “How long before we move?”

“Three days, no less,” came the curt reply. “Anymore, and we risk another incident like the night before.”

Stana shook his head. “Sir, some of the guys are still in bad shape. If we move too soon, it’s gonna be hell for them.”

“There’s no choice on the matter. This place is compromised, and we effectively will be wasting time and possibly more resources waiting for everyone to be combat ready. I’ll see if medical can come up with a solution.”

He then tapped commands on the map, causing to expand and show the current mapped region. On one end, was the main base located at the foot of the mountain range. On the other end, almost two-thirds across the table, was what the two assumed to be their current location as well as another marked point with the label ‘P4’ above it.

“I’ve an idea where we are, and, with that knowledge, I plan to act on it. Starting off, we need to take P4 in order to set up a forward staging area into inhabited territory.”

“Inhabited sir?” Sergiu repeated.

“Yup,” the leader confirmed. “Somewhere in these forests should be human settlements. I can’t say how many or where since we don’t have enough data yet. However, what I can say is that these settlements come and go all the time because of Grimm and otherwise. If you thought that Grimm attack we faced was the worst, then you have yet to see what’s waiting for us in there.”

Both men went quiet at the explanation. Their superior took this chance to tap another panel on the interactive surface.

“Once P4 has an outpost established, I plan to go back the way we came and see about establishing more outposts. These firebases will be the start of a logistics path. Until we improve our circumstances, assume that air support won’t be a thing for now.”

“Of course,” Stana rolled his eyes. “Not like that was ever a thing back in the Old World anyways.”

“…. There’s something I need to ask though, Commander.” Sergiu interjected.

“Go ahead.”

“Where do I,” he queried, whilst pointing to Stana. “And him, fit into all this?”

“Good question. Simple answer is that I need you both specifically to run additional work whilst the plan you see here is put into motion.”

“And that is?”

The commander took a brief moment to ponder, eyes flickering into empty space before speaking. “Unit reorganisation, I suppose that’s the term I’m looking for. That, and I need to run some special tests to see if the overall outcome works in our benefit.”

“Care to clarify, boss?” Stana joined in.

“The first half would be your job, Sergiu,” he addressed. “I need you to pick men who you think are best suited for long posting on these bases. Specifically, I need men who have nerves of steel and don’t get easily stressed whilst being alone out there.”

He then turned to the other man. “Stana, while your job technically means you’re going to be next to me at all times. The real point of your position is to have it so your directly under my command without interfering with Sergiu’s leadership. You answer straight to me unless otherwise.”

“So, what, I’m sort of like your errand boy or something?”

“Poorly worded in a sense, but yeah,” he admitted. “This isn’t degrading you, mind you. Any orders I give you are absolutely vital for the future plans of the Brotherhood no matter how strange they may seem I need people I can rely on when the time comes. As my personal retinue, it’s your job to make it happen.”

Stana was still as a statue as he digested those words. Visibly swallowing his spit, he slowly nodded as the reality of his position sunk in.

Acknowledging this, the leader took a deep breath before continuing.

“Val, join us.”

The two soldiers looked in the same direction as their commander. An operator seated in the corner on the right side of the room, next to the pilot stations stood up. She walked up to them and took her place opposite Sergiu on the other end of the table.

“You called, commander?”

“Yes, it’s time to enlighten the men on our findings. I’m sure they’ll appreciate the news we’re about to bring them,” the commander said with a smirk.

“Likewise,” she returned the look with her own. “Anyways, this is a recording from the drones from the attack last night. Now pay attention as I switch between visual settings.”

Three pairs of eyes looked up and watched the screens mounted on the stations above. Both militants winced when they saw the horde that had threatened to wipe them out the night before. Briefly, they could see the dust clouds from when the raiding group had left the compound to try and break the attack. Yet, there was another thing that became apparent.

Whenever the visuals switched to infrared or night vision, the screen barely showed anything. Granted there was movement, and the base was still clearly seen in a chaotic state, but then….

“Why can’t we see the Grimm, sir?”

“Because, simply put, they apparently don’t generate heat or reflect light well for that matter.”

Stana began shaking his head before rubbing his eyes. “You gotta be fucking kidding.”

“Language,” reprimanded the leader.

“Whatever, sir,” the militant rolled his eyes.

“Considering this phenomenon,” continued the operator, unperturbed. “I’ve placed a request for our forces to be immediately refitted to better combat this threat.”

She tapped a few panels, and in place of the map, there appeared the image of a set of monocular goggles.

“These visual goggles are equipped for low light environments as well as a motion perception setting. Their batteries allow them to function up to ten hours at a time before needing to be replaced.”

“This alongside a partial rebuilding of our local forces are going to be integral for the upcoming engagements,” interjected the commander. “This is also where both of you are going to commit to the integral roles I explained earlier.”

Though it wasn’t openly said, the looks in both men’s eyes told that they were starting to grasp the exact nature of their newly anointed duties. Even so, their leader simply opted to continue on and give a briefing on their immediate tasks.

“Stana, you and your Squad are going to be given the first batch of the goggles along with a fatigue adjustment. I want you to do a long-ranged patrol and put the new equipment to use. In the meantime, Sergiu, I need you to establish an organisational structure amongst the militia. I also need you to gather the fresh troops that were produced by the Hand and start getting them up to speed on handling themselves out there.”

Stepping back from the table, the commander regarded those present with a look of severity.

“Survival now rests on us getting our asses in gear and meeting our now familiar threats head-on. Dismissed!”

There was a loud thud, before all three Noddist saluted in synch, complete with a sharp ‘Sir!’.

While technically speaking the conventional ranking system did exist and was used rather banally within the ranks of both Nod and GDI. Any member of the armed forces from the Old World (TibWorld as it can be referenced) would recognise that those ranks held very little in way of influence when compared to the Field Veterancy rank.

The advent of mass fabrication came at the expense of the common soldier. Whether intentional or not, the enlisted came to be seen as almost as expendable as the equipment they used. Almost, being a keyword.

Nod tried to overcome the limitation of the human factor through automation, but that led to the Firestorm Crisis. At the end of the day, it was still Nod’s human army -even with GDI aid- that prevailed against the Threat of CABAL.

A common consensus reached by military analysts and some groups within the military was that a greater level of appreciation had to be shown for the men and women who survived these extremely dangerous scenarios. Hence, the Field Veterancy system.

While initially scoffed, it will later be held as sacrosanct amongst enlisted and field officers alike. Its presence meant a great deal of importance as by being awarded one, you were regarded highly and were expected to be held by utmost respect even by those a multitude of ranks above you. By the time one reached the legendary ‘Heroic’ Tier, they can expect even colonels to hold open doors for them, and generals were expected to listen to their words with utmost care.

Of course, that’s if they ever reached that rank.

In reality, the estimate survival time of a GDI light infantry in the worst possible period of the Second Tiberium War was three days. Deaths are a possibility whether it be from some form of exposure to Tiberium, hazardous environment or simply the alien wildlife. Often, this was before they come into full-scale engagement with the enemy.

“This damn thing’s itchy.”

He spared an unamused glance to his right, noting the head covered by a shemagh. A hand had snaked up underneath it to scratch the sweat-drenched skin. With a sigh, he shook his head and resumed his watch through the binoculars.

Ahead of him was a large structure surrounded by a two-and-a-half-meter high wall. Both manmade constructs had definitely seen better days if the claw marks and pinions still embedded onto its surface. He ignored these in favour of observing the guards on the walls.

Many of which he noted were sporting injury, but clear attempt was made to hide it in the form of clothing of any kind. Unfortunately, he noted that the side effects were clear discomfort. Evident in how the guards kept reaching for their wounds and either rubbing or massaging them, which seemed to serve them no good if the scrunched-up faces were any indicator.

It was a clear day, but the winds were blowing which served their purpose in this case. They’d parked the bike a good distance away and climbed up the large sand dune under the cover of civil twilight. They’d dug themselves in and since then the sand had gradually veiled their forms save for their arms and heads.

It was a waiting game since then as the two scouts continued their observation.

“Do we really have to stay here all day? My ass is starting to fill up with sand.” The man beside him whined.

“I can teach you a trick to solve that,” he offered.

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s called ‘shoving it up your ass’. If you’re lucky, it’ll clog your mouth as well.”

“Alright, alright,” he raised his palms. “Sheesh.”

“Keep your hands down, fool!” the man snarled, despite it not matching his hushed tone. “You wanna give us away!”

Immediately, his partner lowered himself down as flat as he could into the dune. The man could only let out a low, frustrated sigh as he resumed observation. He noted a sudden influx of sentinels on the walls. One guard stood at the head of a troop and spoke to another. After that, those already present turned to leave the walls whilst the new arrivals took their place.

‘Another change,’ he noted. The event was jotted in a small notebook that he pulled from his sleeve.

“Hey,” his partner spoke.

“Yeah?”

“You ever thought we’d get promoted?”

“We’d just did four days ago, numbnut.”

“No!” his partner whispered harshly. “I mean, you’d ever thought that we’d actually survive long enough to actually get our own teeths?”

“I don’t see your point, and what does it matter anyways? It’s just a piece of metal pinned on your uniform. Not a goddamn reusable ticket for the TibFab,” he rebuked.

His partner scoffed. “You kiddin’ me, man? Tell you what, I’m gonna finish this op, and I’m gonna make it back to base somehow. Just watch, I’ll flash every damn person my teeth and you’ll get to see how much you love not being in the spotlight.”

“Sure, sure,” he rolled his eyes. “Just don’t scare all the kids at the playground, alright? Wouldn’t want you blacklisted for revival just because they mistook you for a harasser.”

“Up yours, man!” The second man snapped.

The two went quiet for a while and more time passed. Until once again, the partner opened his rather chatty mouth.

“So how do you find the boss?”

“You mean the commander?”

“Yeah, him,” the partner shifted his body, trying to be rid of discomfort. “What do you think of him?”

“He’s our commander,” he responded pointedly. “What else is there to say?”

The other man licked his lips. “Well, I actually found kinda lame at first, you know? Still do by the way. Just way less after that thing he did with the truck during that freak night.”

“Surprised you know anything considering I remember you bleeding out on the grass,” the first man snidely remarked.

“Hey, I didn’t lose that much blood, alright!” he spoke indignantly, still mindful of his volume. “It wasn’t that deep and most of the blood came from my soaked pants.”

“Is that another way of saying you pissed yourself?”

“Yeah, real funny, ha-ha,” his partner let out a snort. “Just answer the damn question.”

He took a moment to ponder; his mind still mostly focused on observing the movements of the guards on the walls.

“The young lad has a lot of room to grow. I won’t say he’s the worst considering his circumstances. Afterall, an actual Nod Commander may not even have bothered addressing us as men.”

The other man nodded slowly as he digested the words.

“True, true,” he repeated. “Guess he does beat some of the guys I know from back then.”

“Oh, do share.”

“Well, there’s that asshat of a major who led us on a while goose chase across the mountains in Bulgaria. Bastard actually wanted to cut his losses and run but he had this absolute unit of a captain whom I’m pretty sure was crushing on the poor man hard. I’m not even talking about a love kinda thing, but absolute hate…”

As his partner preoccupied himself with his retelling, the scout took the moment to zone him out entirely and focus on his main reason for sitting out an entire day cooking under the sun.

His superiors had zone him and his partner along with four other groups of two for this assignment. It was a straightforward stakeout where they were tasked with moving ahead of the MCV and its escorts to observe the enemy’s activities. So far, the results of their work were rather mundane given what they’ve faced.

Deep down, he found it kind of morbid that he was looking forward to killing humans again. Then again, seeing a man torn apart alive maliciously by what amounted to an oversized dog wasn’t something that can be considered mundane evil. It even surprised him, when he reflected on the deaths, he’d seen so far, that he felt unnerved by each one. Coming from a regular in Nod’s forces and one involved in more than a few village burnings, not to mention the Tiberium Crisis he saw firsthand, it spoke a lot.

Eventually, the hour of dusk arrived. Whilst the guards began to move into the night shift, the two took their chances to slide down the face of the dune facing opposite the settlement. From there, it became a slow, mildly frustrating journey back to their hidden vehicle as they fought the cramps around their bodies that had built up over the course of the day.

Around fifteen minutes were spared for a quick meal and refreshments before they started the bike and rode off. His partner at the front whilst he rode passenger on the back, making do with what little spacing the modified mountain bike offered.

As they rode, the scout pondered on the inevitable battle that was to come. There was the straightforward assumption that it could play out like all the other ones they’ve faced until now. Yet, a part of him found itself thinking otherwise.

Wisely, he kept that part prushed to the far back of his mind.

“Looks like a Zoo Tower.”

“A what?”

“A Zoo Tower. World History. Basically, they build these things to fight off air raids.”

“Did they work?”

“Yes, but they didn’t win the war if that’s what you’re hoping.”

Sergiu let out an affirmative grunt as we observed the structure projected on the table. It was around fifteen meters high with a ten-meter base. Four blocks were linked at the base and linked by a rather thick column was a wide circular plane above that formed the top. Using drones, we confirmed that the top of the tower had fixed artillery with visible outriggers. Strangely, there was nothing to indicate that there was any form of communications station on the roof.

“Are we sure there isn’t comms traffic out there?”

“Affirmative, sir,” one of the operators responded. “We’re picking up nothing but our own out there.”

“Drone footages show nothing resembling electronics sir. There’s basic electricity from what can be assumed to be a generator, but its only being used to power lights for the most part sir,” Val interjected.

Sergiu breathed in, then he turned to me and asked, “How do you wish to do this, commander?”

Nibbling on the knuckle on my right index, I thought hard on what I wanted done. While the most obvious answer would be destruction, there was the equally enticing probability for diplomacy.

Currently, the ConYard was north of P4. We had both the Hand Of Nod mockery, and a VAF produced with a laser fencing around the perimeter with modified CIWS at the ready.

Our scouts had returned safely and right on schedule. Their initial reports complemented our own assessment. Bottom line is that the inhabitants of Point 4 were not in top shape and had suffered an attack same as we had days ago. However, unlike us, they knew that they were the last of their kind and wouldn’t be expecting reinforcements anytime soon. At least, that was my best hope for the situation.

The more I thought about it, the more it bit into me. Due to the circumstances I’d led us into, we still knew very little on what we’re facing. The disaster at the motor pool that was Point 3 failed to give us any information.

“I need to get inside.”

“Sir?”

Ah, crap. Did I speak that one out loud? Screw me.

Blinking, I turned to face a rather visible perplexed look. My head of the armed forces was staring at me with visible confusion. His once shaved scalp was starting to be covered by growing light brown.

“… I-We need to get inside that compound,” I addressed. “I don’t want this place to be razed. I want to try diplomacy first.”

“But what for, sir?”

“Answers,” I clarified. “I need more info on our current whereabouts and the date of the current era. It’s vital to know this early if we’re to advance further beyond the desert.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Sergiu stared at me with a deadpanned look. “You’re talking to the wrong person. Militants aren’t exactly the kind of people renown for being sociable and friendly.”

“I am aware,” I nodded.

“So why tell me this?” the captain nudged. “What’re we supposed to do?”

Teeth sank into the hard surface that was the joint of index. My mind sifting through chemical signals to correlate an appropriate response. Once again, whether deliberately or not, I allowed these thoughts to be let loose.

“Just be yourselves for now. I’ll let you know when I have something in mind.”

We’d deployed the new base at least eight kilometres out from the settlement. Frankly, we were abusing the high dunes of the desert way too much, but this was one sort of boon I wasn’t shameful of using.

Sergiu had every right to doubt me. The militants spawned from the Hand were wonderful in the sense they provided cheap offensive force compounded by the fact we were facing technologically inferior defenders who lacked any form of command hierarchy. Alas, no advantage lasts forever, and I didn’t want to see just how far we could push our luck.

In a private session, I had EVA give me a tally just how many men we’d lost. Much to my heartbreak, we’d already past the triple digits some time ago. We’re at two hundred and thirty bodies and counting. Not counting those grievously wounded in the recent Grimm assault.

Yet, as much I wanted to mourn, I knew that it wasn’t meant to be. The words of the dying militant from that night had nagged at me for some time during the aftermath of the assault. Was it any form of surprise anymore that those words would be proven true?

Indeed, I couldn’t believe it myself when EVA revealed that there was a feature to bring back dead personnel. Fake resurrection if you will. The dogtags came with basic form of data record of each and every personnel. I’d ask why I wasn’t informed of this, but EVA remained silent. I suspect there is still more for me to learn about these homunculi than meets the eye.

Speaking of homunculi, I do think Rain might know more, but the fact was we were too far away from the base now to maintain consistent radio contact. I do wonder if she’s alright.

In any case, the sooner we finish our current business here, the sooner I can get back. My nerves are getting frayed from all this leading business. Not to mention, we were in no shape anyways to advance any further than we did now.

That leads me back to my current frustration. How were we supposed to get in without causing a ruckus? No, more accurately, I wanted answers to the current timeline and status. An isolated village may seem like a bad idea at first, but even a small glimpse may reveal more than we expect. Afterall, everything leading to this moment at least points to us being in RWBY’s past, but how back were we was my question.

Without answers, I felt rather useless. Uselessness leads to frustration. Hence, I acted upon it.

I was in shock.

I laid on my back. The wind knocked out of me. My vision swam. Breathing was hard, but not something I could ignore.

I needed to get up.

Work through the pain. Work through the pain!

My back forwards. Upper chest rising up with my hands pressed to the ground, supporting my rise.

A black boot slammed against my torso and for a brief moment everything went black. Something warm filled my lips. I felt my top incisors sinking into something soft. A pull threatened to send me back on the ground.

No! I can’t give in to it!

Both my hands reached out and I made to hug the offending appendage still planted on my stomach. One. Two. I found what I was searching for and pulled my upper half towards it as best I can. My new position was awkward, but I couldn’t afford to give a damn.

Twist! Fighting the pain and the boot sinking further into my intestine, I made to roll. Through the dark, I could at least make out something falling over. It was hard to… just… discern, but I knew that the thing that had fallen was a good thing. It was opportunity to stand.

I breathed in. The action made me want to barf. Forcing past the pain though, I was rewarded with my vision returning.

Just in time to see my opponent beginning to stand.

Against my better judgement -or any for that matter- I launched myself at him. Kicking the ground, and with both arms raised wide open. The attempt was less than perfect, and I found myself just over the man’s left ribs. Nonetheless, I grappled with his back until I found and clamped both arms around his neck.

If my action bore any effect, it was moot. My opponent simply rolled onto his back crushing. I was slow to register his hand on my ears as he pulled, gaining a scream as I was forced to release my grip. He took that moment of inaction to get up and turn. A hand lashed out for my forehead whilst the other-

“Halt!”

My opponent went stiff. Through ragged breaths, I studied the veins pulsating on each hand. I struggled to hold off the blood seeping from my lower lip. The thought of drinking it was revolting.

What passed for an agonising minute must’ve gone by before the victor released their grip and stood up. The same hand that had been poised to strike me before was now reached out to aid me. I gave it a brief stare before deciding that there was no harm in accepting the offer.

Rising to my full height, I quickly lifted my balaclava and spat out the blood accumulated in mouth. A rather large mixture of saliva and crimson stained the sand to my right. Ignoring this, I turned to look at my opponent.

His high cheek bones and fair skin was a common trait I found amongst those in his squad. His hair was styled into a neat crop top, but what separated him from the rest of his brethren was that he stood a head and a half taller than me. A stark contrast to the usual half a head or one head taller than me.

Also, unlike me, he barely appeared strained from our scuffle. Sporting an upward curve of his lips, he looked like a hound that had barely started to enjoy its latest toy. In response, I kept my shoulders tensed and poised. Ready to jump-

“Boss,” a voice called. “Enough. Don’t go starting a round you can’t win.”

I turned to look at the voice. Stana stood there, his shemag stuffed into the neck of his fatigue. Along with him, at least four others were flanking him.

Right. I wasn’t fully alone.

Something slammed onto my right shoulder. I snapped my head forward, just in time to see the absolute unit of a man give me the most blood-freezing smile I’d ever seen.

“Enough kiddo,” the man’s deep voice reaching into my soul. “That was good fight. More, and you crumple like stick.”

I sniffled but made no point to rebuke. It wouldn’t make sense anyways. My point inciting this brawl wasn’t to put me in Medical.

Spitting once more, I wiped what blood was still on my lips with my forearm. I took a moment to admire the thick line of crimson on my lower arm, before moving to the semitruck a short distance behind me. The backdoor was opened and on the flatbed was a simple steel box. Opening it, I took one of the canteens and took a nice long swig of its contents, but not before tearing off my head cover and throwing on the floor of the flatbed. A rough sigh escaping my lips after taking a long gulp.

Hydrated, I felt my awareness return to normal levels. I took stock of the ten men milling about around me. Some were keeping watch, but most were just relaxing and there was also the man I’d fought with who was nursing his own wounds, how little that was.

Something filled my peripheral, I had to do a double take and turned to see Stana to my right, a hand extended and holding a canteen.

“Drink,” he offered. I showed him the one in my hand, but he only gestured me once more.

I had my doubts, but I decided to take him up on his offer and grabbed the offering. One sniff, and I made a guess that it at least wasn’t entirely alcoholic. Glancing at the militant once more, I then proceeded to chug the down whatever drink I was handed.

Hot damn

My eyebrows shot up at the sizzling sensation in my mouth. Wound aside, the taste was straight up nectar, considering I’d lived on plain water months now.

“Like it?” the man next to me asked.

“What is this?” I asked, turning towards him and noting the blatant smirk on his face.

“Lagidze from Georgia,” the militant answered. “Some of the guys weren’t too happy with the booze restrictions, so Iosef got around to issuing something else for us.”

“And I wasn’t informed of this because…”

“Oh, you were technically informed,” he defended. “We told the techs it was part of the privilege of being your bodyguards.”

“Stana…”

“Kidding! Iosef just pulled favour. That lady in the ConYard was nice enough to approve the requisition.”

I gave him a look, clearly displeased by their actions. Still, I guess for something like this. If it helps keep the men’s mind off the stress from being out here for so long, who am I to complain. I’ll probably still look into it with Val though.

“So,” Stana spoke up, sitting himself on the floor of the truck. “What brings us out here, sir? Aside from getting to see you beaten to a piss that is.”

“Just wanted to clear my head out. That, and figured a showing myself around more would help keep the men from getting the wrong ideas about me.”

“I fail to see how losing a brawl helps that way, sir.”

“It’s a matter of presentation, Stana. Men follow men, no matter how twisted or weak their superior is. Occasionally, an honest to God superior breed emerges and men flock to them for guidance. Don’t see myself as that, but damn if I don’t prove a point of my own.”

I chugged what remained of the special drink down my throat. Warm iron could still be tasted; mixed with the soda-like drink. The empty bottle was set aside between me and the militant.

“So, what now? We ride back to base?”

I was going to answer, before a scream interrupted the calm atmosphere.

“GRIMM!”

All eyes followed a hand that was pointed behind me. Hastily, I clambered across the flatbed, ignoring the alarmed shouts from the other. Fishing out a small pair of binocs from my pocket, I observed a dot on the horizon.

Sure enough, it was a Nevermore. Standard variant. Large avian. It didn’t seem to be on the alert though. Strange.

“Orders sir?” I heard Stana next to me.

Lowering the binocs, I regarded him. “Get us back to base.”

He nodded and yelled out my command. With the exception of bracing my hand on the roof, I directed most of my focus inwards.

All the Grimm up to this point had been travelling in huge groups. The only exception being the pair encountered months ago at the main base. It could be coincidence that we’re encountering so many, but given what I did understand of these monsters, then it may have to do with the emotional negativity build up.

I deduced that it must’ve been a combination of our raids, and the already present despair from the slaves. The latter was just a powder keg we’d come to light.

Still, if the Grimms were going to appear in hordes… Then perhaps….

Yes, that could work!

 “This is bloody stupid.”

Flashes and thunder lit up the night sky. The moon was still nowhere to be seen. Not that it would’ve helped the men who waited anxiously within the depression. Ahead of him, the beleaguered settlement was bright with the constant firing of dozens of weapons as the inhabitants fought for their lives.

Sergiu flipped the NVG upwards. Sparing a look around him, he noted the faces of all of the men now formally under his command. In a twisted sense of nostalgia, he realised he now recognised too few of them. Wariness and a deep sense of disregard were plastered amongst a good number of them, with the exception of some who were fresh from the Hand.

Pulling a cigarette from his pocket, he lit the stick and took a long drag, relishing in the burning sensation. Three -or was it four? - inhales was all it took to finish the stick before he threw the remainder on the growing, not bothering to stomp the flicker.

Descending from the slope he used to watch the lightshow, he made his way down into the throng of men. Most gave him a wide berth, and occasionally a man would nod in his direction out of respect. He walked a good ten minutes and climbed over a dune before reaching the small base set up. The ConYard was mostly shrouded in darkness. Yet, this fact didn’t bother as his real destination was a small light source a short distance down.

His leader stood behind a heavily modified technical. Unlike the others, this was openly sporting the Nod Scorpion Tail. Its grey exterior was also in contrast to the brown and tans used by the other trucks. The flatbed was taken up by a mix of electronics and also proper seating for what once was Squad 3, now turned bodyguards for the leader.

Like the rest of the militia, there weren’t that many recognisable faces left, but he still knew at least four of them personally. Still, each gave him their own nod of respect as he passed their perimeter.

“Sir, Grimm have engaged the settlement,” he spoke up whilst approaching.

The young man looked up from his WMT. “Already? Neat. Guess it’s time to begin.”

“You sure this is right, sir? It could end messily if we’re not careful.”

“Risks need to be taken, captain,” came the reply as he watched him climb atop the back. “We can’t learn if we don’t take them. Besides, chances are those locals won’t be willing to waste ammo once they realise that we’re here aiding them. Otherwise, well, I guess you’ll get to enjoy the artillery show.”

With a single call, the men surrounding the technical began to gather and mount the vehicle. Stana spared him a glance before climbing up the back and taking his seat. With nothing else to do, Sergiu began walking back to the assembled men.

“Hey, Sergiu!” he heard his leader called.

He turned, and even through the dark, he caught the radiant smile on his face.

“Stay safe out there, alright!”

He hadn’t an answer. Simply nodding to assurance, he resumed his walk back. The groan of an engine coming to life filled his ears as he crossed the dune.

‘That trip back to base couldn’t have come any sooner,’ he thought.

“Commander to Control, come in.”

“Control, standing by.”

“Op is a go. Tell Archer to begin volley.”

“Copy, standby.”

……

“Archer firing.”

“Confirm. I’m ordering Warrior to move out.”

“Roger that. Permission to speak commander?”

“Go ahead, Control.”

“You sure you want to be out there, sir? It’s extremely risky.”

“Confirm. Don’t worry, this won’t be a habit. Just let me have this.”

“Understood. Control going silent. Will inform you if anything arises.”

“Roger.”

“Livi, come in! Livi!”

“Livi’s dead! They got him!”

“… Who’s left up there?”

“…”

“Hello? Amaz? Come on, speak to me. Anyone, PLEASE!”

“…”

Try as she might. There was no answer. A sinking realisation soon hit her. Everyone up top was dead.

“HAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!”

A loud crash and buzz filled the air as the radio equipment was pulled up from its place on the table before being smashed back down with enough force to cause the table to collapse. Raising it up again, the process was repeated again and again until the only thing left was the handles on the front panel with a few knobs that managed to survive the abuse.

Unable to vent her rage no more, Tulip broke down crying. Her voice reduced to soft whines and the occasional screech.

This was it.

This was happening.

Her people were finished and there was nothing that could be done. There would be no help coming. Not from home, or from their closest neighbour. The kingdom was an even bigger no, and it wasn’t like they even knew this place existed to begin with.

Kuju going silent should’ve been a dead giveaway. By the time the first Grimm attacks started, they should’ve begun packing up and hauling it for the woods. Perhaps they may even get lucky and find their old home once more.

But no, of course not. Their leader Tenne of course had to make a stand. A stand and for what! What did they even have to lose leaving the desert?! The Dust mine? Screw that, there’s Dust everywhere. Worse comes to worse, they can just try their luck with raiding again.

‘Suppose it doesn’t matter now, though,’ she thought. ‘Not when the old mutt is already dog bones now.’

Vivid images of their ‘valorous’ leader’s remains still kept her awake at night. The fool had tried a noble charge with his closest companions to break one of the attacks, and it had backfired horribly for that matter.

Merely thinking about it now, that agonised look wasn’t something she’d want plastered on her face. Broken in mind and body, the unholstering of her weapon -an old, rusted six shooter- was but a passing notice in her mind. The pointing of that weapon under-and-behind her chin was a bit harder, but doable.

She had to do this. She didn’t want to die at the hands of those monsters. Her minds eye worked on overdrive replaying every story she heard of the brutality that was a Grimm getting their hands on a human. When complimented with what happened to Tenne, it made all the more easier to pull back the hammer.

“Ma’am!”

“GO AWAY! KEEP FIGHTING!”

“Ma’am, you need to see this!”

“I SAID GO! GO AND FIGHT!”

“THERE’S SOMETHING HAPPENING TO THE GRIMM! YOU’VE GOT TO SEE THIS!”

The man’s roar was enough to jolt her from her self-euthanasia. Gripping the gun hard to avoid dropping it, she turned and stared blearily behind her. The man wore plate underneath a long trench coat. His exposed head bled from the right side of his temple, and there were stains on both of his sleeves. A rifle held by the forestock in his gloved right hand.

“What?”

“There’s something out there and it’s attracting the Grimm. You’ve gotta see this!”

Her murky mind was having a difficult time coming up with a response. Perhaps against her better judgement, she holstered her weapon once more and followed the man out.

Brown eyes darted to the sky as she exited the safety of the tower. Immediately, her mind noted the lack of projectiles raining down on them. Her heart hammered in her chest for the moment a giant pinion would strike either the ground, herself or the man beside her, but it never came.

Just as she was about to openly question, she saw something else.

A shooting star. Or perhaps something resembling it. While she never personally saw one even in her youth, she did know enough that the bright lights were supposed to fall down and not up.

Moreso, shooting stars don’t move headlong to collide with a flying Grimm. She also doesn’t remember them bursting into small, radiant stars.

The explosion in the air was something a tad more familiar, and she instinctively ducked. It was loud, she’ll admit that, and apart of her was glad that whatever struck the Grimm wasn’t aimed at her or the base.

A hand patted her shoulder as the man began to urge her to the walls. For the first time in the past few hours, she felt something other than fatigue and building despair filling her. It was a light feeling, but it still made her queasy.

Following the man up the ramps and onto the battlements, she had a vast view of the desert below. She and a half dozen of them watched the phenomenon happening below, sharing the same awe at what they were seeing.

From the peaks of several dunes, more of the strange stars shot out. Their light illuminating dark silhouettes too far to be discerned. Below, more shapes -much larger and more visible- sped across the sands. From their backs, great tongues of flames were spat and many a young Grimm panicked despite the presence of humans nearby; their animal instincts overriding their monstrous ones. Caught like animals on the trail, some went stiff, and were either rammed or killed by gunfire.

Gunfire…..

It clicked to her. There was a rapport of gunfire, and she was sure it wasn’t her men shooting. For the most part, it sounded like machine guns, but she didn’t know any that could fire with such a heavy rattle. The other rapports were also not happening her hearing.

That was when she heard a whistling in the air. A sharp, sudden whistling followed by the loudest explosion she’d heard in her life. The snap-boom bellowed across, but it was the flash that made everyone’s heads turned left. Though they didn’t catch the moment of detonation, they were able to see the consecutive shots.

Such was their power, the light served to turn night to dawn. She could see, for the briefest instances, the shapes of the other guards on the other side, closer to the explosions, all of which had ducked for cover.

It was too much. All of it. The horde. The strange shapes. All of it was too much.

So, she did the only thing she could do.

Curl up to her knees, lean against the wall… and began to mewl.

“Good hit! Good hit! Enemy’s breaking!”

“Warrior 1-3, in need of support! We’ve got six of them on our asses!”

“Warrior 1-3, turn right on my mark. Warrior 2-2 will assist. Mark!”

“Archer is turning to fire. All units clear the east end. Warrior 1-4, 2-5 and 2-7 get out of the firing zone!”

Endless spiel of reports, requests and orders filled the radio as I watched the tempest of battle unfold below. To say I wasn’t impressed and awed at how much improvement was being shown would be bad on my part.

Everything I saw was how I would exactly picture a Nod force being made to engage.

The new and improved Technicals served as proper fast moving fighting vehicles with armed and experienced men at the helms. The Browing machined gun was replaced with the much lighter, Russian-made Kord machine gun and was mounted on a turret above the passenger side of the driver’s cabin. The flatbed now sported storage and was modifiable. The current loadout being two ‘proper’ flamethrowers on either side that spewed much hotter flame than the adhoc infantry-scale ones. On top of a reinforced front, the roaming vehicles were veritable rhinos with flaming wings.

Stinger teams were the most welcomed addition to the Militia. They used a modified version of the FIM-92K that used a datalink with ConYard drones to fire. Due to how manoeuvrable the Grimm fliers were, I decided to forego with the idea of RPGs and went straight for what’s worth. Within the first half an hour, the Grimm had effectively lost their air support.

Bikes rode through the fires and much larger technicals. The basic design remained relatively the same, that being based off of a mountain bike. However, like the Stingers, the new warheads used sported a proximity fuse function. Dangerous, yes, but it was an overwhelming vote that convinced me to go through with the upgrade. The only real addition was the issuing of machetes for the riders along with special holsters for easier access to their sidearms.

Then, of course, there was the artillery. Destructive and morale breaking. The CAESARs were being put to full use in erasing the largest clumps of foes. 155mm cannons leaving nothing in their wake.

It wasn’t just awe, but beauty incarnate!

“Quit gawking, sir. It making you look bad.”

Lowering the binoculars, I turned to look at Stana to my left, not bothering to hide my glee.

“Come on, man. You gotta at least admit that we’re looking at cool stuff out there!”

He snorted. “Believe me, it stops getting ‘cool’ once you’ve heard it enough times.”

“Yeah, we’ll see,” I mumbled, whilst raising my WMT to look at the real progress in data form.

According to the device, we were doing far better when compared to the previous engagements. Out of two hundred and fifty men, we had two-fifths engaged in the valley below. A hundred in reserve while the rest were part of the off-map battlegroup. The experience of the men was showing in how they were able to systematically neutralise the Grimm by dividing and eradicating them piece by piece.

If things go well, then I was certain to get what I want out of this.

“Commander, be advised. Grimm sighting near your position. Seventy clicks out”

Blinking in surprise, I brought a hand up to my earpiece. “Repeat Control, Grimm sighting where?”

“South Fifty degrees East. Counting four, six. Wait, hold on.”

My brows creased. “Control?”

“… Sir, we may have a situation.”

“What’s wrong?”

“If the drone visuals are right, then we have an unidentified species on our hands. Unknown estimate, but they appear to be a worm variant.”

‘Figures it couldn’t be that easy,’ I thought, mulling over the latest development.

“Control, get me four Bradley’s from reserve.”

“Confirm, sir.”

“And tell them to bring as much flamethrower fuels as they can. Rendezvous at my position ASAP. Also, divert Archer Five and Six to my command.”

“… Understood sir.”

Removing my hand from the earpiece, I turned to address Stana.

“Let’s get moving. Those boneheads won’t wait themselves.”

“So what sort of football bat you’ve got for us this time, boss?”

“… What?” I asked after a brief look. The leader of my bodyguards gave me a roll of the eyes whilst checking his AK. Around us, the rest of the squad were undergoing similar motions.

“Plan I mean,” he inserted the magazine with a click before checking the safety. “You’ve got a weird ass plan, and I wanna know it before we hit enter whatever Charlie Foxtrot you’re hoping for us to survive.”

“Oh,” I said, my mind still registering whatever slang was being used. “I was just gonna make a firewall so that we could let the artillery do the work.”

“And if it doesn’t work?” he pressed.

I shrugged. “We’ll cross it when we get there.”

The semi-truck came to life. A moment later we were off. The driver following a combination of my directions and information being shared to me from both operator and EVA.

“Fuel’s been dumped, sir. We’re un-assing from here.”

“Got it. Head north and hold behind the line. Engage the enemy once within range.”

Through the green filter of my binocs, I watched the last of the militia mounted the trucks and left. The only ones remained were the nine men all across the almost two-kilometre line of fuel on the sand. We would be cutting it close, but I didn’t want to risk the flammables failing to ignite if we had poured them too early.

“Control to Commander, Grimm contact in three mikes.”

“Confirmed. Everyone ready?”

“Warrior 3-1 to 3-4, standing by.”

“Archer Five and Six, standing by.”

“… This Stana, my squads ready. Let’s just get this over with.”

A part of me wondered why my bodyguard leader didn’t use a term. Then I realised he didn’t have one. Internally, I cursed at my blunder.

“Contact in one mike.”

Decreasing the magnification, I was only barely able to make out the approaching shapes. Damn, those things were fast, whatever they were. I could only make out the dust cloud left in their wake.

“Sir!”

“Light it and run!”

From my place on a high rise a certain distance away, I watched as the members of the Stana’s squad lit up the fuel on the ground. They were spread out across the line, each with their own lighter to ensure there was full guarantee the plan worked.

The night became so bright, I had to pull away from my binocs. The flames weren’t necessarily high, but they were wide and that was what I was hoping for.

Stana’s squad barely cleared the proximity of the line. My own command truck being their escape engine. At the same time, the Grimm worms that were on the other side of the flame wall either leapt or dove straight into the flames, only to come out on our end in agony. A few of the wolf variants that had been following them suffered a similar fate, except for those at the rear who managed to come to a halt.

“Archers, loose! Loose! Warriors, engage!”

The four IFV’s from the reserve surged forward and engaged. Autocannon fire racked the sand and shredded the beasts still immobilised from the flames. Dismounted infantry joined the fray and added their own suppressive fire. Overall, the reserve group kept a good kilometre or so distance in case of a need to get away fast.

Soon after, a familiar whistling filled the air and the ground erupted with a deafening boom. The suddenness of the situation was what finally broke the Grimm and sent them running.

“Look at them run!”

“It’s what they get for messing with Nod!”

“ALL HAIL THE FURY OF BROTHERHOOD!”

The sneers and jeers across the comms was a tempting thing to join. Alas, a commander had to know when to mingle and when to stay apart.

An audible rumble broke my reverie as I looked to see the approaching command vehicle. The headlights blinded me and I gradually began to shift to the side away from the glare. The sound of doors opening followed by a dull thud of boots striking the sand alerted me to the occupants’ dismount.

“Sir,” a very aggrieved voice sounded. “Remind me to expand your bodyguard detail.”

“Oh, what for?” I asked.

“So that I can lump whatever stupid idea you have next time onto some other poor sod instead of me.”

I rolled my eyes and shrugged. “I’ll think about it.”

“Do you realise how close we were cutting it there?! I swear, any longer and we’d be hauling a flaming tire with us!”

“Well, you can take it out on the next brawl then,” smiling to myself, I returned to looking at the burning line. I was aware I was not alone as the other ten men joined me.

Someone whistled. “Quite the sight right there. How did you that was gonna work, sir?”

I shrugged. “Mystery, that’s what it is.”

“You know, there’s definitely stragglers out there. Shouldn’t we chase them?” someone else asked.

“Our forces are stretched as is, and I don’t want to send men into the dark and where the drone range doesn’t reach. Besides, by the time they rally, the main force would be finished, and we can coordinate the clean-up crew then.”

“Commander, Control.”

I pressed the earpiece. “Go ahead.”

“Warrior Actual reports enemy eradication around P4. Mission objective achieved.”

“Copy that. Let’s proceed to next phase. I’m pulling back to pick up the Diplomat.”

“Confirmed, Commander.”

Breathing in the warm air, I turned around to face the semitruck.

“Time to head out guys,” I beckoned. “Our duty awaits.”

“Off we go into the next rathole,” Stana grumbled.

Everything had become eerily still in the past half an hour.

Someone had forced her to gather her wits and give out orders. She did as ask with lifeless automation. Injured were treated whilst bodies were piled. Those few still capable maintained a form of vigilance along the walls.

Her worse fears were founded. The gunnery crew at the top of the tower were all dead. She and just about everyone else knew those on top had little chance of survival since the timed-fuse shells were depleted many moons ago. If anything, it was a testament to their ferocity that those groundside were spared for so long -up to an hour and a half- from being attacked by the flying Grimm.

Currently, she was hearing her new aide list out the casualties. His predecessor having lost his head from a pinion.

“….Krimm, Sinn, Reg, Aryl and Harl’s squads are all dead. Taupher’s dead, but two of his squad mates are alive. There is a note here that there’s a survivor from Jas’ squad, but the medics are still pending whether he’d survive. Men from the East wall are the only ones mostly spared.”

The aide read line after line whilst occasionally flicking to the papers and bringing the clipboard closer to read hastily added memoirs. Only when he reached the end did he turned to look at her. Light brown eyes looking solemnly at unfocused green.

“Ma’am?”

It was gentle query. He only barely noticed the tilt of her head.

“With all due respect, I need clarification that you heard everything I said.

“….Yeah,” came the faint whisper. “Yeah, I did. Good job.”

He sighed. There would’ve been a follow-up remark, if not for the sudden shout of alarm.

“Movement! It’s the whites! They’re coming to the north gate!”

Immediately, all activity came to an almost grinding halt. It took a second for it too click to everyone just who was approaching. When it did, everyone either scrambled for a weapon, or began climbing up to the battlements once more to observe their suspicious saviours.

Both leader and aide were part of the two dozen or so still able-bodied men that gathered on the walls. They could see the brilliant white lights coming towards them from a hundred and fifty meters out and closing fast.

“Wonder what they want?” a gruff voice asked.

“Maybe they just want to say hello?” a meek voice replied.

“Bullshit! Why now? It’s already been more than hour since they left!” a brash voice answered.

“Probably hunting stragglers,” a fourth, wizened voice added. “Either that, or they had to double back and prepare their welcoming committee.

As the lights neared the base, the brilliance became too much and most of the men had to squint to avoid burning their eyes. The lead vehicle came to a stop some fifty meters from the gate. Then, suddenly, illumination died.

The darkness that appeared before them was like looking into a more. The few surviving senior fighters began to instinctively reach for the triggers of their firearms. Younger ones had their postures lowered, ready to duck behind the safety of the metal for protection.

Silence reigned. For a moment, it felt like the world beyond the settlement was lost altogether to a black void.

It was only then a figure emerged. Their robes seemed to blend perfectly with the background. The only slimmest of resemblance to a man can be said. Mainly, in terms of having feet and hands. One of which was holding a long pole. The upper half of which was a strange spiral that reached slightly pass halfway down the length.

The figure moved forward and became further illuminated in the light. Its cowled visage sported no befriending features. In fact, it hardly looked human with its overflowing robes giving it a ghostly appearance. It made many of the men begin to fidget.

“Whoever you are, what do you want with us?” A veteran asked loudly. “We ain’t got nothing to offer you!”

‘It’ stopped moving immediately. The atmosphere became suffocating as the few inhabitants stared at the strange, robed figure. One young, unnerved fighter was ready and willing to pull the trigger. Until….

The figure used its free hand to reach up and pull the lips of its cowl down. Where there used to be black mass, there was now a identifiably human visage. One that had a natural frown placed on it. The effect was immediate as many relaxed ever so slightly that their apparent visitor was a fellow man.

An extra two steps forward were taken by the man. As he appraised the wall and its guardians, he suddenly began tapping his staff on the sand below him. Once. Twice. Thrice. Each and every sentinel stared curiously at the man’s actions.

That was when a crimson glow began to bloom along the length of the spiral on his staff. A low, humming sound could be heard filling the air. The man’s face was bathed in the red light emitted from his accessory.

“My brothers,” a strange voice boomed. “Peace be unto you all this night.”

The voice came from the man, who followed up with a bow. When he rose up once more, he seemed unfazed still by the many armaments bared at him. Carefully, he regarded those on the walls before speaking.

“Why would you threaten a fellow man? To what I have brought to be given this untoward reception?”

“You tell us!” barked the same veteran from earlier. “You guys were the ones who massacred the Grim with guns, flame and whatever the hell that did the explosion! What’s to say we’re not next, huh!”

The man on the ground regarded the veteran. “Oh, and, if what you say is true, then how come I was the one who was sent here rather than my more armed brethren?”

The veteran would’ve snapped back if his leader hadn’t stepped up to the task.

“Well, whatever it is you offer, it ain’t worth it! Just go and tell whoever your boss is that he can FUCK OFF! Else, I tell my boys up on the tower to blast you off!”

Loud roars erupted amongst the men as they began adding their own chant of insults at the strange man below. Yet, the individual did not seemed one bit fazed despite this.

“Even if I were to offer you food, water and medicinal aid? Does your senselessness know no bounds that you will turn away a helping hand?”

A new silence settled over the defenders. The proposition of the booming voice was heard clear and with no room for error.

As if on cue, new figures appeared behind the dark man. They carried crates that were placed to the side of each man. Once all of the new figures had retreated back into the blackness, the individual knelt and opened the closest crate with his free hand. He pulled something out from the within the crate and brandished it in the air.

It was a bottle. That much could be said. Without much room to give thought, the figure opened the cap and poured the contents down onto the sand. Even under the crimson light, the action was clear for all to see.

“I give you the gift of water,” spoke the figure, extending a hand to the opened crate. “Food and medicinal. All for free and more.”

The light from the staff died down, yet they could still see the silhouette of the man through the dark. Voices stirred amongst the defenders as they questioned what to do.

Some would want to ignore the offer and chase the man off.

Others would rather accept the gift and tell the man off.

A minority dared to see the full package the man was offering.

In the end, necessity won over and they decided to send a few brave souls to collect the crates. The northern gates were opened ever so slightly, and five men rushed out to collect a few of the crates. They passed the strange individual who still remained standing in the dark. Up close, they could see his face that seemed to blend into the dark. Unwilling to stay outside for long, they rushed back into the safety of the compound.

Behind the walls of crude metal, they opened the crates to inspect the contents. True to the man’s words, there was food, water and basic medical supplies that were so desperately needed.

All sense of control was soon lost.

Having gone weeks in the heat with no resupply and strict rationing, many of the men began to forego their reasoning and scrambled for the supplies, especially the water. Pushing and shoving, bottles were snatched and either drank or simply poured over themselves, drenching their uniforms. Mumbles of blessings and miraculous gifts circulated the defenders.

She who had first confronted the mysterious individual along with her aide still standing there, and all three came to the same conclusion.

This needed to stop.

“Hey,” she called out. “Hey, listen. You need to stop.”

No response.

“Hey!” she called, harshly. “I said stop. I order you to stop!”

“Back off!” one of the men snapped back.

“Stop damn you! Get a grip!”

“Back off bitch or I blow your brains out!”

A rifle was jammed in her face. At the same time, a sharp whistle echoed in the air and a few more heads turned to see that the two remaining men on the wall aiming their own rifles at them.

“Step away from the crates,” came the calm, sharp command from the veteran.

Some of the men began to slowly inch back, bewildered. However, there were some who stood their ground.

“What are you doing?” one asked.

“Ensuring everyone’s safety. Now, step away from the crates and let the lady and her aide handle this.”

Blinking at first, the man processed the order before shaking his head.

“No,” he said. “No. You.. You want all of this for yourself, don’t you! You want to hog whatever’s here for you and chase the guy outside away!”

“That’s not what we’re trying, lad. Calm down an-”

“Shut up!” he lifted his rifle. “Just shut up! I’m sick of you, that brat and the whore!”

Others began to follow and soon all six had raised their own rifles at the three.

“It’s all for nothing!” he continued seething. “NOTHING! All those months standing in the sun and for WHAT! Just for a little bit of Dust and a quick buck?! I’m tired of it all!”

“THEN SIT DOWN AND STAY OUT OF IT, BRAT!” roared the veteran.

“NO, YOU!!” shrieked the guard in response. Caught as he was in his hysteria, he failed to realise that he had clenched the fingers holding his rifle. The index firmly in place over the trigger.

Bright flashes filled the air followed by the distinctive crack of rifles. There were screams heard and, if one had keen ears, they could hear the sounds of flesh being torn from the body. Panicked, enraged screams filled the air, adding to the cacophony of noise.

The violent orchestra lasted a mere six seconds. A finale in the form of a man falling over the edge of the walls heralded the end of the performance. Following a brief hush, an audible whine of metal was heard.

One half of the gates was opened. A man was seeing pushing it outwards away from the compound. He pushed it until the sand formed a wedge on the opposite side and halted his advance before collapsing on the ground. Behind him, others lumbered out, a few openly dragging their bodies.

From the dark, silhouettes emerged. They quickly rushed to the men who’d opened the gates. Said men showed no attempt at resistance as they were gently manhandled onto the ground. More and more silhouettes began rushing pass and entering the compound.

The robed individual was among those who stepped into the compound. Under the illumination of the compound’s lights, one could make out his olive-toned skin and shaved hair. His expression was set neutral despite the state of disarray seen within settlement.

Bodies both alive and not were everywhere. He noted the ones lying next to his right, and assumed they were the source of the earlier shootout along with the one on the right. He could hear shouts as the militia began giving out orders and callouts in securing the sight. They were, of course, little concern to him.

Bringing a hand to his earpiece, he pressed it to call his master.

“Commander, this is Diplomat.”

“Go ahead.”

“Area is secured. We’ve gained entrance.”

“Copy that, I’m on my way. Try and find some clues as to what the place is while you’re at it.”

“Understood. I’ll see to it done.”

Turning left, he opted to begin his search that way. He didn’t make it pass a few steps when he felt something grasping his ankle below him. Looking down, he noted that the body on the ground was still barely alive.

“C-can’t…. have it,” she gargled out. His ability to understand wasn’t hindered even with his staff inactive. It was a mere ploy afterall.

“Such heroic nonsense,” he remarked apathetically in the local tongue.

Raising his staff, he sent the tip striking down.

I didn’t think the sight would still unnerve me.

I was in the compound now. Stana had parked the vehicle just to the side of the east gate, which was still barred it seemed. I guess no one had bothered to open it. Stepping down, I beheld the destruction around me.

The death and destruction shouldn’t have been this level of disturbing anymore. I’ve led this campaign for more than several months now. Months! So why did the scene before me now still make my stomach churn.

Bodies pinned to the walls and floors, blood seeping and forming pools on the ground or dripping over the edge. Damage in all manner from claw marks to more pinions. The clear sight of hastily erected tents meant to treat injured.

I didn’t get why I was still so disturbed. I hated it.

“Sir?”

I looked at Stana, his face looked rather solemn.. tired.

“Diplomat Raziq awaits us within the tower.”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Let’s go.”

We made to walk. The rest of my bodyguards following in line behind me.

“You don’t look so well, sir,” Stana remarked.

“Never been better, my friend. Never been better,” I droned.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

We entered the base of the tower. I was quick to notice the simple architecture of the interior, with a single stairway that followed a spiral up to the top. Another thing I noticed was the Diplomat homunculi sifting through various parchments.

“Commander,” he greeted.

“Raziq,” I replied back cordially. Extending a hand, I was given a single book with a leather cover. How cliché, I thought as I spared a nod in gratitude for the man.

Within the book was mostly the alien language that I’ve yet to fully comprehend myself. Still, I recognised some pieces such as what appeared to be crudely drawn maps alongside torn pieces from authentic diagrams. There was also hastily scribbled ledgers and addendums in some pages. I felt a twitch in my chest when I noted that the last written page had a dark smear at its bottom.

“It would appear as if you were right about this being a slave mining operation of some sort.”

“Oh, really? Do tell.”

“The slaves were mostly those who had no means of escaping financial bankruptcy. A note we recovered from the office suggest that these people had to be desperate and signed for a life of manual labour thinking it’d pay off their debts.”

“That didn’t work as well as they’d hoped.”

“Most certainly not indeed.”

“And these guards?”

“Mostly ex-military looking for a job. There was a note of a different group working with them, but I have yet to identify or make certain as to this group’s whereabouts.”

Nodding, I handed the book back to the Diplomat.

“See to it that you do. I don’t want loose ends on this op.”

“Understood.”

Satisfied. I left the Diplomat to his own works whilst I went back outside. I blinked to clear out the bright glare of the new morning. Apparently, dawn had arrived.

Someone cleared their throat next to me. Looking to my left, it was Sergiu. The man looked no worse for wear, with the exception of the bags under his eyes.

“Anything for me, captain?” I asked.

“Not much, sir,” he replied with a shake of his head. “We’ve secured the settlement, and the Sisters are assisting the survivors.”

“Am I sensing a ‘but’ in there?”

“Truth be told, I don’t see how there’s anything left here that could be off use. The tower is ready to fall apart at any moment. The walls are practically shredded -not that I find them particularly sturdy to begin. I say we just torch this place and set up a proper outpost elsewhere.”

That was… sound. However, apart of me didn’t feel like it was the best decision. Hence, I gave a counterproposition.

“For now, focus on cleaning this place up. I don’t like bodies strewn about, and we still need to gather any and all clues so that I could formulate our next plan.”

Sergiu gave me a stare, but I found no malice in it.

“Understood, sir,” he turned to leave, but then looked at me once more.

Left to my own thoughts, my gaze fell to the surroundings. Apart of me ached seeing the destruction, and the sinking feeling of guilt soon began to strangle my heart once more.

Afterall, that horde wouldn’t have struck the settlement if we hadn’t goaded it to do so.

Through the exhaustion of a night’s worth of excitement, I laughed hard at a revelation I learned later on.

According to the dates, slavery had only been made illegal some twenty years ago. For the sake of context in this journal, that means the Brotherhood was dropped no less than sixty years from canon.

My poor men must think their leader was insane now. Well, I guess that’s as close to normal as is.

Still, I’d openly say that I’d had enough of this exhausting trip as is. I’m tired, and so are the men. I’ll adjust accordingly and instead have fresh, carefully made troops assigned for outpost duty. It’s the least I could do for the rest.

We’ll stay here for a week at least. The walls will be repaired and replaced in sections with prefab ones. The antiair guns on the roof of the tower were to be thoroughly dismantled with missile teams will taking their place. As we’d be leaving this place for extended periods, I approved the construction of small scale TibReactors for powering the base and its new defences.

All in all, despite plenty of hurdles, this campaign can be considered a success somewhat. I’m sure hoping to get back to Rain soon. With the recent discovery, there was a lot that needed to be discussed.

A/N: This chapter went way longer than I expected it to. However, I don’t regret it one bit!

Next one will reintroduce an old, reedited version of an old chap. I’ll probably take a break before continuing this story. Once more I thank everyone who’s stayed with me until now. No, this isn’t a straightforward ‘Nod’ bashes the world story, but I have a clear goal of what I want to do. No worries fellow brothers, you’ll get to see Nod’s arsenal soon enough as we progress.

And to that one guest reviewer that asked.

Rain’s physical appearance is based on an old Visual Novel called BaldrSky.

Another OC mentioned was Dr. White, and if you’re still not familiar, try looking up the name Walther White.

Again, I do this strictly for fun and they have little to no tie in with their source material.

Until next chap!

Chapter Text

Light.

Noise.

Squint.

Irritant.

These were the things that aroused me from slumber.

The first thing I did was press my lips together to stop anymore drool from leaking. Shaking my head, I forced myself to adjust to the harsh light of my desk screen.

My eye twitched at what I saw.

Another lost match.

Damn, and I tried really hard too. Goddamn, Scrin AI. I hated it, and I really should’ve known better than to set it to Steamroller. The game was always rigged against me whenever that happened.

‘Still, it was a good match though,’ I reasoned.

It wasn’t that far from the truth. The fourway free-for-all at Dustbowl went well. As per usual, I went for the economic-slash-tech rush and locked the centre of the map with Emissaries, and Disruptor Towers. A line of obelisks with Flame Tanks on patrol that turned the ruined town into a no-entry zone whilst I worked to establish more Refineries and Harvesters for resource gathering. I would’ve won too if not for one small detail.

The Commando.

THE GODDAMN GDI COMMANDO!

The bloody flea got away with blowing more than half the main base before the Flame Tank got him. From there, things took a down spiral when the AI decided to gang up on me and-

Wait a moment, what the hell was that noise.

“Alert, our base is under attack.” Came the monotone drone of EVA.

Well, shit.

I almost didn’t bother wearing my full BDU.

Tying my belt, I stormed out of the room and headed straight to the elevator.

Rain shower.

What sounded like pings and clatters echoed across the ceiling. Only, I was fairly certain that wasn’t water that was splattering on the hull.

“Incoming transmission.”

“Commander!” Sergiu’s voice resounded amidst screams, shouts and distant roars. “We’re under attack! It’s the Grimm!”

“Which direction and what comp?” I asked bluntly.

“The east!” he clamoured just before another screamed sounded. “Their coming from the damn east! We’ve got birds circling us and their skewering everything!”

“Get your men out of dodge! I’ll….,”

The elevator doors chose to open at that moment. My attention lapsed and I came face to face with the last person I’d wanted to face.

His face still looked unnatural from the wounds, but I could still see his wide-eyed expression. His attire -standardised for the current militia- consisted of a black short-sleeved T-shirt over dark grey pants along with complementary Y-suspenders.

We stared at each other. My heart racing and throbbing even harder than before. Unable to find words for one another at that exact moment.

“Sir, sir!” Sergiu’s panic filled the comm.

“Nothing! In cover now while I get us some AA!”

The man took my words as his cue to shuffle inside the small space of the lift. I didn’t begrudge him and soon the doors closed, and we continued moving.

A single glance at the panel confirmed my own carelessness. Time was short and my men were dying. Yet, I could still find the time to be carelessness to press for the wrong fucking floor.

I turned to look at the man beside me. He looked to be impassive to my presence, or at least he seemed to be trying. No matter, our recent violent history was but a splash in the chaotic sea outside.

Gently, I prepared the Beretta M9 still holstered on my waist. Seeing as how I was going down; I may as well take command from the ground. There was not a moment to waste, and it wasn’t like I couldn’t improvise with just the WMT.

The doors opened and we both walked out. I made to pull the gun…

And immediately had to will myself to not drop it due to the sudden burning sensation.

It would seem as if the painkillers had worn off. I looked down and sure enough my hand still looked pretty swollen as well.

I breathed, recollected myself, and looked ahead towards the end of the hall.

Halfway there, stood the man I’d bruised. His face was somewhat calm and collected, but his tense shoulders and angled body betrayed the underlying anxiety and tension from looking at me.

I raised the gun, cocking it.

“….”

“….”

A whirl in the air. A hand lashed out to try and catch the flying object mid-air. The man looked to see the handgun now in his palm. Glancing back, there was now a bewildered look plastered on his face.

“Get out there and do your duty, soldier,” I glowered. “Don’t stop until every last one is dead.”

My voice carried across and when it reached the militant, he snapped to attention and saluted.

“By your orders, commander.”

Stuffing the gun in his trousers, he took off running. I followed at a more sedated pace.

Even from underneath the protection of the ConYard’s roof, I weary of the impacts across the hull. Personnel were running to and fro looking to busy themselves with their own duties. Occasionally, sparks would burst from the roof, and the small streaks of light would make their way to the bottom to sting someone or land harmlessly on either cloth or steel.

I made my way to the end of the gantry that faced the outside. The scenery before me wasn’t pretty.

The vehicles were mostly wrecked, mainly all the technicals and bikes now resembled pin cushions. Further in the distance, I could see the Bradley’s firing their main armaments into the sky in what looked to be a hasty attempt at fighting off the fliers.

Illumination came in the from off either the bursts from the IFV’s or the crimson glow of the laser fences.

Speaking of…

“EVA, how long will the fences last?”

“Currently, they are expected to remain online until 0700 hours.”

“I don’t see any movement beyond them. Are we dealing with only flyers now?”

“Negative, visual instruments have confirmed a large Grimm force inbound from the east.”

‘So those beasts have caught up with us.’

It wasn’t hard to figure out which direction they’d come from. No, what concerned me was what exactly was coming after us.

“Cue the production of as many AA turrets as you can. Deploy as you see fit.”

“Understood, building in progress.”

I then switched channels. “Sergiu, you there?”

“Loud and clear, commander.”

“Where are you?”

“We’re in the Bradleys,” a moan sounded in the background. “We have wounded on board and can barely fend for ourselves.”

“Move to the ConYard, now.”

“But commander, the wounded.”

“You won’t save them if you don’t move. Now hurry!”

Around that time, the anti-aircraft began sprouting from the ground around the ConYard. Unlike the missile batteries used in the First War, these resembled the point defence turrets mounted on modern naval ships and consisted of a single gatling gun with the ammo pod above with a single targeting lase in between the two. For obvious reasons, they had dual function as both antiair and anti-personnel.

Almost as soon as they appeared, the guns whirled to life and let loose a brilliant trail into the night sky. What were once low howls became shrieks as the turrets made short work of the flying Grimm. Two minutes of constant barrage, and there were a number of audible booms sounding as the hostile lifeforms began crashing down to the earth.

“…Sir.” Came the compliance from the radio.

Over the other end of the motor pool, I watched as a number of shapes began to move. Minutes later, the first of the armed transport arrived; their forms scarred and, in some places, pricked with abnormally large pinions.

What I saw next made me grimace.

The first transport didn’t hesitate to roll up the gantry and into its depths followed by others. Only when they reached the dead end that was the wall of the building did they stop and drop the rear hatch.

Men rushed out screaming the likes of ‘Medic! Medic!’ along with the audible anguish of the pained and dying. However, these figures were quickly brushed away in my mind as I looked towards one man.

Sergiu came down, sporting a nasty wound over his left arm. Sweat and blood stained his uniform, and his heavy breathing was apparent. He looked around, lost and clearly shaken.

Nearing him, I demanded. “Report, what happened.”

His eyes snapped to me. “Grimm fliers sir. Nevermores came screaming out of the black. We were caught off guard.”

“I thought I told you to get the men in shape and defences pulled up.”

“We did! But the attack came too sudden and those on duty just couldn’t warn us all in time!”

My fists shook despite the pain it caused me. Inhaling, I continued.

“How many are still able?”

“… I don’t know. Just about most of us got grazed whilst running to the vehicles,” the militant swallowed. “I don’t think you’re gonna find many healthy men, sir.”

I slowly nodded at every word said. Looking behind him, I immediately regretted it seeing the state of those onboard. The first thing coming to mind was that many weren’t properly bandaged and their collective blood practically flooded the floor.

My sight drifted down as I thought long and hard to our current predicament.

Caught unprepared and trapped, with a crippled force strength to boot. The option was clear. There are men that were going to die tonight. However, that didn’t sound as bad without implication. No, these men knew that death was always hanging above them.

It was the fact that they were being sent to an unworthy death that would aggrieve them. Humans can be taught to accept death, but dying pointlessly was another story.

No, death wasn’t the problem here. It was me.

I needed to be removed.

Inhale, count to five, exhale. Repeat.

One…. Two….

“Gather as many as you can,” I looked at the militant squad leader once more. “I’ll have more men and wheels being made.”

I didn’t wait for Sergiu to respond before turning to walk away. My destination was outside. A quick look at the emplacements told me that the skies and surrounding area were clear for now. Many a man were now emerging from the wreckage and other Bradleys that couldn’t fit into the ConYard to seek medical aid.

As I walked, I began issuing production queues fluidly through the WMT. Infantry, vehicle crews and even extra medical and technicians were all being requisitioned through the Hand. The VAF wasn’t idle either as we still needed replacements for just about the entire light vehicle fleet. I counted my blessings as well when a basic skim through the damage assessment tab revealed that none of the three buildings present in the base were damage beyond superficial levels.

However, it soon occurred to me that I’d been walking with little destination in mind, and through my own frustrating realisation; there was an equally disturbing fact manifesting.

Walking between each and every vehicle, I would find no less than two corpses.