by Nathan Ward
Murdock raised his hands and yanked at the front of his uniform, tearing it away from his flesh and revealing his muscular body, covered in thick crimson that continued to pour from the multiple wounds while Enrique watched in a state of shock, a shock that begun to worry Murdock while his eyes remained fixated on his body like he couldn’t believe what he had witnessed. Captain Murdock lowered his gaze to his own chest to catch a glimpse as all of his wounds mysteriously begun to close up, concealing themselves like a spell of magic being cast over him. “What the fuck have you given me, Joy?” Murdock questioned, remembering the agent she administered to him after he had been beaten to a pulp by Captain Jordan.
The treatment must have been dormant within him, ready for use again...Murdock welcomed his new found surge of strength that instantly refueled his limbs as wounds closed entirely, leaving behind a faint tender scar as a reminder.
Enrique now looked worried, as he witnessed Murdock get up off the ground and on to his feet once more. His muscles tense and larger than before, there was no sign of mercy in his gaze, just vengeance burning from within like a phoenix reborn from the ashes and ready to rise in fire...
The Captain took one final look in to the remains of Enrique.
“I’m sorry,” he stated.
Then Murdock struck his fist into the side of his head, ripping it clean from the metal exoskeleton embedded beneath his flesh. The head landed among the black smog and fire while its body fell to the ground, heavier now in death as it landed with a thud that rang of finality. Enrique had been defeated at last, Murdock confirmed to himself, looking down at the semi robotic corpse, knowing this had been the only option, and feeling not a trace of regret.
From behind the curtain of thick, choking black smoke, Mike and Steph suddenly emerged, dragging the remains of a body along the ground; Murdock caught wind of what was happening and leapt into action, running over to assist in the rescue attempt.
“Michael! Steph! Are you alright!? Where’s the General?” Asked Murdock, panicked by the sight of the flames as the three of them continued to drag a burnt body from the fire.
“It’s him, this is Lynch…” Michael said, looking down towards what appeared to be a corpse.
Murdock observed, carefully trying to identify Lynch as Steph tried her best to gently wipe away the smoke flesh and traces of blood from his burnt face.
“If that’s…if that’s Lynch, there’s nothing any of you can do for him,” Murdock stated plainly…
But Michael and Steph didn’t look like giving up as they applied pressure to his wounds.
“Michael! He has no fucking legs man! There's nothing left of him!” Murdock roared, as emotion took control of him, shaking him to the core at the sight of the once powerful General and what remained of his damaged body..
Michael turned his gaze to the lower half of General Lynch which no longer existed; all that was left of him was a torso, head and arms with no apparent sign of life. He was bleeding out slowly, the heat from the blast having sealed some of the wounds, terribly injuring internal organs in the process, but at least the bleed was slow enough to give the General a fighting chance...
“No one was ever meant to survive a blast from one of those grenades, he gave himself for us…Now you have to let him go!” said Murdock, removing his damaged helmet from his head and dropping it beside him.
“No, we're not giving up...We can try, we can bloody well try…I’m sick of losing people, Murdock!” Steph cried, “He saved me...Now I'll save him...I will, he's not going to die," she looked down at the General's closed eyes as her voice trembled, “You won't die, Lynch...I promise!”
Then she fell to her knees, tenderly cradling the terribly wounded man in her arms as she placed her hand on to a bald scalp where all Lynches silver locks had been burnt away. His face was raw from the flash of the blast, in places scorched skin oozed where flesh had blistered, he was no longer the man who had ordered Steph to hide as he kept her safe, now he was barely recognisable, his body maimed from the blast as he lay motionless in her arms. But still Steph held on to him as defiance burned in her eyes.
“We can try, we have to try! Give us hope…just give us a tiny bit of hope, Murdock. Finish this war!” Ordered Steph, as her and Mike's sights climbed towards the exhausted face of their Captain, the last man standing in the war between the UNA and the Human race, a war where only one victor could emerge...
Chapter 40: The fight must go on
Murdock turned away from the inferno that blazed on and as he did so, he placed his hand upon Michael's weary shoulder as a form of symbolic gesture, a sign that the future would be in safe hands if he truly did believe in him, like the way Joy had - but her fate remained unknown to the captain, although it was obvious that the UNA had now begun to near the upper levels. All he could do was hope on the slither of chances that she’d managed to save herself, before the level was breached and overturned by the troops. Perhaps Joy was alive. That was all he could reasonably consider as that shard of hope remained lodged in his thoughts.
For a moment he felt as if he was a failure as he begun a battle weary march towards the broken wall situated at the end of the corridor, setting a course for the oval room where he knew Houghton would be waiting for him with her royal guardsmen. But the prominent thought of failure was all too disconcerting, even though he had warned that it was going to be dangerous, and that there was no way of predicting the outcome, he still felt as if he had abandoned the people that meant the most to him as he walked the lonely steps on the path towards more of this, more slaughter, more struggle, with only his subconscious to keep him company, to keep him sane as the city continued to fall apart around him as flames rose high and bright in to the morning sky as if it seemed destruction would be claiming its title as ultimate winner in the ugly matters of war and the death and ruin it brought in its wake…
But as Murdock approached the window, from beyond the fire, hope slowly crept forth like it promised to grant immunity to all the chaos around it - the impossible face of Sasha which suddenly etched itself to the back of his eyes, so even in closure he could still see her staring back at him, he could finally grasp on to the memories that were once buried deep, thought lost forever and remember that when the battle was finally over he did in fact have something to live for and something to fight for, and that thought was all he needed as new hope sprung to life in the man worn out by warfare. The thought of Sasha brought an out of place smile to his beaten face as he leapt through the second broken wall, returning to the room in which Houghton had remained, as predicted by Murdock with her guards stood at ease behind her, all six of them.
“Captain?” asked Houghton, unsure of whom she was looking at as Murdock’s body was covered in his own fresh blood and hidden beneath shadows as black as the night sky which had now begun to lift as the morning sun rise approached, riding the distant hilltop.
Murdock moved from behind the shadows and in to the eerie tangerine glow, grabbing his sword off the floor as he moved closer, slowly, carefully towards the centre of the room which was softly lit by the mixture of blazing fire and icy blue skies.
“Commander…” Murdock confirmed, nodding his head towards Houghton as he came to a sudden stand still, observing the surroundings and casting a glance to each of the guardsman's unearthly eyes.
“Not entirely what you were expecting, I can tell.” Murdock added, meeting Commander Houghton’s gaze with one of pure despair, while a mix of blood and sweat gleamed on his partly exposed body where the uniform had been ripped away, how very human, this sweat and this blood, how mortal – and yet not so, after he had survived so much more than a mortal should survive...She was thinking that, processing it in her cold analytical steel head, he could see it in the way she regarded him in silence...
That state of silence lingered as Houghton scanned Murdock's body with her luminous glare, casting a faint blue beam of light up and down his torso, it was impossible for this human to be stood there,
she thought as her readings detected the damage that had been inflicted by Enrique’s weapons and not to mention the quantity of blood that now stained the tiled ground of the tower as well as what remained of his uniform, which stuck around his waist and to his legs, drenched by a mixture of bodily fluids.
“You should not be standing, Captain…” said Houghton in a raspy uncertain tone.
“Quite right, you are. Something has gone very VERY wrong on your part here my friends, because when I was treated for similar injuries once before - it happened to take place inside one of your facilities.” Murdock reminded Houghton, “You have so much control and advancement that there really wasn’t any need to think about what would happen if it fell in to the wrong hands, it wouldn’t be a logical scenario from such a great height of power, would it?” he added accusingly, with an increasing rage burning from deep within him as he stood just a couple of meters from Houghton’s grasp.
“We have evolved to be accepting of lacking logical explanation” Houghton replied, and that was all she got, because Murdock was not done yet.
“Perhaps that all happened a moment too late, all that was needed in the end was a gentle touch from a harmless soul, one that may no longer be with me or perhaps she is! And she is the one you have to thank, Commander! For I am the vessel of your own undoing, you handed us the ingredients and we baked a cake, there’s simply no bad without the good!”
Murdock followed this declaration with a sharp swing of his sword towards Houghton’s head, taking her by surprise as she attempted to process where the UNA had gone so horribly wrong, but the royal guard stepped in without a second to spare, lodging their staffs together in a defensive formation which deflected Murdock's attack, launching a flurry of bright golden sparks into the air as the two compounds collided against one another.
Murdock was once again fuelled by an impossible force, like a tidal wave of raw natural power that could only be the effect of the treatment that was used on him during his near death encounter at the Fort, after his brutal run in with the captain named Jordan which turned into a gladiator match that he had hoped he would never have to take part in again, but as time seemed to freeze around him in this moment of aggression, he felt as if the worst was still to come, knowing the royal combatants wouldn’t just walk away, they had a duty of protection without the understanding of right and wrong.
Murdock suddenly disengaged his weapon, lifting it up and over the enemies staffs and down through the torso of the sixth unsuspecting guardsman, slicing apart the navy leathers and the cybernetic components embedded inside. The guard instantly lost all of its power and balance and plummeted like a broken doll down into the littered ground which was already stained and covered in debris.
Murdock took a subtle retreating step to regain his composure and fighting stance, readying himself for the next strike from the opponents that had already begun to circle him, lowering their staffs and pointing them in towards his body, limiting his movement and placing him in a rather vulnerable position, he realised this as he cast his sights around him, watching their every move as they circled in unison, like sharks surrounding their prey as they waited to strike.
The war for the city had begun to come to an end as the sound of explosions and Howlers shrieking from fatalities diminished in the urban streets, the blasts lower now, smaller, far off, the shrieks fading out and carried off on a wind that carried with it the stench of burning corpses. But the flames continued to rage on, purifying what was once a thriving hive of life, overturned in just a couple of heavy progressive years.
Normality was now something that made even less sense, but the sound of Steph and Michael praying for Lynches recovery brought things into perspective, as Murdock listened in, during a moment of unfiltered silence while Michael moved Lynches body in to the neighboring room, away from the fire and closer to Murdock, who had wandered knowingly in to an uneven death match, but numbers had never remotely phased him, it was time that always used to slip away, especially when staffs were suddenly lunged towards him triggering a chain of evasive actions which came naturally to the captain, anticipating each of the bladed jousts that neared his bare chest, it just seemed to throw his train of thought which was already two tenths up on the opposing enemy before they launched their attack, he had to take that time back, it was crucial to the outcome of the conflict and right now he was well and truly on the ropes...
Murdock knew time was running out and he had a brilliant plan mapped out in his head, but he couldn’t gain the courage to make the move, knowing how painful it would be, so instead he continued to weave in and out of the five guards staffs as they continued to advance, holding a roughened battle stance, jousting their weapons towards Murdock's body in an untiring motion, like cogs gleaming with efficiency, outclassing the human who only had a limited supply of energy no matter how well reserved it seemed at times. They moved relentlessly, unending, a reminder of the might of the UNA...
The captain could feel Houghton's eyes burning against his flesh as he turned his back to her - which was enough of a statement to sum up just how threatened he felt, to not even feel the necessity to look his enemy in the eye, let alone their general direction, however his concentration was still assigned to the royal guard, which he knew he had to dismantle and fast, judging by the lack of hesitation in their progressive advances.
Murdock could make out the faint outline of one of the incubation chambers lurking just a few meters to his right hand side as he raised his sword to deflect a glancing strike by one of the guards, so carefully he took a step, countering and stepping in a formulated motion until the chamber had come in to arms length.
The Captain made a sudden and surprising attack, pressing the sole of his boot
to the chest of the closest guard, launching it backwards and against the back of the inner chamber, where its body collapsed hard to the ground. Murdock dived at the opportunity, swinging the door around the front and crumpling on to the face plate of the droid. What was left of its head made a loud pop and a frantic burst of fiery sparks ejected from some inner components, before the rest of its body slumped even further, sprawling itself along the floor in a definite state of failure.
There were just the four guardsmen left; Murdock observed as he quickly reached down for the long disarmed weapon which had fallen among the debris.
His right hand was still clenched to the handle of his trusty sword as he knelt, but as his body rose back to the height of the android guard he let it slip through his fingertips, freeing both hands to take a tight grasp around either end of the lightweight staff.
“We’re fighting fire with fire here boys!” Murdock claimed as his fallen sword shimmered at his feet and neon blue reflected in his eyes.
The man that hadn’t stopped, the warrior that thrived off the thought of helping those in need around him launched what was left of his body into a final round of combat, twirling the length of the staff around his hand and against the defensive guardsmen, knocking them off their stride as they attempted to move in for an attack. But Murdock took a grasp of every opportunity, smashing each end of the weapon against the androids heads, leaving no chance of regaining composure, cancelling the crucial counter strike that must have been ticking over with every fierce pounding.
Murdock whipped the staff in a horizontal motion, slicing the tip along each of the droids necks, piercing the delicate wiring and tubing feeding down into the torso system. All four guardsmen let out a thunderous grinding sound of failure that crashed down in unison, which almost sounded like a cry of pain to Murdock as he stood observing the bodies while blue lubricants and crimson fluids poured from open ends, polluting the already chemically stained floor.
The Captain could still feel the glare of Houghton’s eyes being cast from behind the fallen bodies of the guardsmen as she watched on into the centre of the room where Murdock was once again stood.
He had now begun to wonder exactly what thoughts, what android processes now ran throug
h her manufactured mind as the UNA Empire begun to crumble right in front of her eyes in a ball of blazing defeat. But her face remained stiff and cold, unprovoked by the captains victory over the royal guard which he naturally found difficult to comprehend as his eyes climbed towards Houghton’s rigid face plate, it left a sour taste at the back of his throat and a curdling dark mass in the pit of his stomach that churned up an overpowering sense of fearfulness, uncertain of the commanders next move which seemed to bury itself away, deep within the void of her augmented mind.
This is what it had come down to, what it was always leading towards since the day that the captain separated from the UNA ranks and led the humans to a greater cause that had taken the efforts of every single one of them, even those who hadn’t made it, like a piece to an ever expanding jigsaw or a stepping stone to a much greater journey: The End was finally set in sight…
Chapter 41: The Royal Guard
Murdock turned away from the inferno that blazed on and as he did so, he placed his hand upon Michael's weary shoulder as a form of symbolic gesture, a sign that the future would be in safe hands if he truly did believe in him, like the way Joy had - but her fate remained unknown to the captain, although it was obvious that the UNA had now begun to near the upper levels. All he could do was hope on the slither of chances that she’d managed to save herself, before the level was breached and overturned by the troops. Perhaps Joy was alive. That was all he could reasonably consider as that shard of hope remained lodged in his thoughts.
For a moment he felt as if he was a failure as he begun a battle weary march towards the broken wall situated at the end of the corridor, setting a course for the oval room where he knew Houghton would be waiting for him with her royal guardsmen. But the prominent thought of failure was all too disconcerting, even though he had warned that it was going to be dangerous, and that there was no way of predicting the outcome, he still felt as if he had abandoned the people that meant the most to him as he walked the lonely steps on the path towards more of this, more slaughter, more struggle, with only his subconscious to keep him company, to keep him sane as the city continued to fall apart around him as flames rose high and bright in to the morning sky as if it seemed destruction would be claiming its title as ultimate winner in the ugly matters of war and the death and ruin it brought in its wake…