by Marc Mulero
“Welcome home, old friend! And praises to your resilience,” Blague greeted.
Lito neared Blague with a hyena’s grin before wrapping him in a warm hug. “I didn’t think it was possible, but I have even more respect for you than I did before. This is no easy task, hermano.” He then patted Blague twice on the back.
"Hah, tell me about it.” Blague withdrew from the embrace to look Lito in the eyes. "But it is the struggles that we endure that make us more effective, if we survive them.”
"I'm learning that lesson the hard way," Lito said solemnly.
Kentin and Milos pushed past Blague and crashed into Lito to welcome him back, dissolving his seriousness instantaneously. Laughter followed - innocent, much needed laughter. He mussed their hair before snatching Kentin to try and swing him into the air.
"'Ju got heavy, amigo!"
"Well, me and Milos have to get strong if we're going to protect you," Kentin replied.
"You're almost there.” Lito smiled, approving of the boy’s charm. He planted Briggs’ son back down to the ground and shook out his own hands pretending like they were hurting.
The Mohawked commander then moved on to greet Eugene and Sabin. With exaggeration, Lito held his hand high and swooped in to give the mopey sniper a hearty handshake. "Good to see you," he said, pulling Eugene in for a hug.
"You too, Lito. Congratulations on Bulchevin," Eugene praised.
When Lito turned to acknowledge Sabin, their faces drained of all color. A deep groan from behind them made their skin crawl, then the thump of a body against concrete made hair stand on end. It happened so suddenly. In the midst of a wonderful reunion, Blague had collapsed.
Drino awaited his handpicked squadrons with one leg bearing down on a partitioned bench. He slammed the chamber of his Gatling gun and flipped the weapon to rest on his knee like a marauder staking his claim on a new kingdom. Perfectly groomed blond hair shined like a coat of glossy paint in the locker room’s light, labored breath spoke to his impatience, and muscle twitched under newly tailored combat attire. He flexed to test its elasticity and figured his squads were late because they were doing the same. As much as it pained him, he hired Kenna - the ambitious coordinator - to revamp the Sin fighter uniform to be more in line with his standards.
There are no more victims here, only soldiers. Now, when we invade, our enemies won’t see a mess of ragged beggars. They’ll see a new contender. We’ll rebrand ourselves and bleed our enemies. The murdering will be in the thousands. Only this time, my arsenal will be pointed in the right direction.
He punched his tightened abdomen, right where he’d suffered his most severe wound.
Healed, finally. One more scar to prove that I haven’t yet finished. I have more Hiezer generals to cripple before my time is up. Give us your best from those guarding Nepsys, Eldra, so I can crush them all.
Drino eyed his soldiers filing into the weapons storage unit, which served as a locker room for the battle to come. He was surrounded like he was heading the ‘Kumbaya’ of a campfire, only his song wouldn’t be to bless others.
Hardened soldiers, fresh paint under eyes, squad leaders with chins held high: their commander should’ve been proud. Chella in particular, the woman who’d lost her husband in battle, had risen into her own. Weathered beyond her years – a drawn, gaunt face like a ghoul that was once quite pretty… now a thin concoction of muscle twisted around bone. She wasn’t singing the same tune any longer either. No more pleading for God to take her. Now she only listened for it to be sung by her enemies.
With her rifle facing north resting between open legs, she hyped herself for war. All soldiers wore their Sin mark exposed from the strap of flesh left bare within their new design, a decision that Volaina would have detested if she knew; no stealth missions would succeed with blue fire burning for all to see. This design had a different motive, though: to bolster a visual war drum and let their enemies know what marched against them.
The mission was simple: save those Templos’ hides, forge a new alliance, form fresh ranks against a common enemy. These fighters were eager. Ready. They fell easily into their organized squads with a fluidity that came only with experience, a chemistry ignited by comradery. Huddled at a perfect distance apart like a living organism, the next best thing to the Aura’s hive mind. They were pumped for whatever was to come next.
"The Hiezer generals are ruthless, calculating tormenters. I should know, I was one of them," Drino revealed, compelling all eyes to fall on him. "When motivated only by a mission’s success, collateral damage becomes a comfortable compromise. So beware, Sins, do not underestimate our enemy. They’d abandoned their humanity when they took oath. The only way to beat them is to do the same."
Drino silently paced up and down the locker room, emanating a familiar barbarous intimidation from his battle-hardened demeanor. His physical therapy and recovery training displayed prodigious results, causing his slight increase in muscle mass to aid in exuding a more menacing image.
"Sir," Chella looked up inquisitively. "How did you wind up a Hiezer general?"
Drino stopped his pace in front of Chella, staring down at her in admonishment. "If you were anyone else… I'd slap you across the face to keep you focused."
Her expression hardened, willing to accept the blow if necessary.
"But you've shown more determination and commitment than any soldier I've ever known. Ascending to squad leader within record timing allows you an answer to your question. Hell, it might give all of you some additional perspective on the enemy.” His eyes cycled through the room like he was stalking for prey.
"I climbed the ranks just as you all are striving to do. It was a cruel path to take. The Hiezer elites wind up carrying out unthinkable tasks, tasks that could blur the line of morality." He bent down to glower at a fighter. "I've taken many innocent lives under the premise that I was reducing the number of defilers that threatened civilization." His subordinates were visibly uncomfortable to be in such close vicinity to their commander, since it usually translated into public humiliation or a beating. "That premise stuck with me all the way to the rank of general. It justified my lust for blood, my war-bound mission, just as I'm sure it justifies the actions of many other generals today."
"Sir,” Airos said, while raising his hand.
Drino stepped over to the squad leader of Y, his silence breeding fear.
"Sir," Airos called again after a brief pause, nervously anticipating his commander’s response. "How… how did you come to switch sides?"
Drino yanked Airos by the collar off the seat to meet his brutally scarred face. "Bold question, boy.” He grinded his teeth to flex his jaw. "I made a choice to disobey a direct order from the Ice Queen, herself.” His hand opened to drop Airos back down. “I didn’t make the decision lightly. No, my squad mates were my kin, war was my life. You all must remember rumors of the Caldros Herd… the largest rebellion of the last decade.” He looked to see most heads nodding. “Well, my orders were to infiltrate Caldros and end his legacy right in front of him. A task that could only be dealt by the Devil, and one that can only be served by his minion.
“The night in Phaeus was a frigid one. I remember knowing the weight of my weapons only by sight – fingers, arms, everything was numb. Into a war camp we would storm. Kill, clear, repeat, using their fires to find blood in our veins again before snuffing it out and ransacking the next. It went on all night. We could torture without letting a peep escape into the air. Onward, collapsing tents and huts like wrecking balls… until near the very end, we found the hut with three lanterns – exactly how his was described, their leader, like Blague is to us.
“My squad stormed on all angles so there was nowhere to flee. One of the children shit himself from fear. I remember my men laughing – more of the Devil’s minions. Then I kicked the door down… the worst of them. There he was, Caldros, standing there with his wife and two sons cowering, boxed in, cornered.
“All I saw was red. His rebel
lion had claimed the lives of six of my finest soldiers. So, without a second thought, I shoved Caldros aside, grabbed his wife by the hair and crushed her skull with my brass knuckles." Drino held up his metal encased fist. “Then Caldros charged me. He wasn't his usual composed self, leaving me no choice but to react the only way I knew how. My body acted on instinct, as it did many times over. I overpowered him and rung his neck, nearly snapping it off.
“The rage died down after my second kill and all that was in front of me was gore. I looked back to my soldiers guarding the door, both of whom were looking away, pained. It was at that moment I realized what I had become, what years of war transformed me into. A thought flashed through my head, that the Hiezer directive could, in the best case, only lead to hell on earth. So I turned on my soldiers by abandoning my order and letting my brass knuckles fall to the floor. I stared his tortured kids in the eyes, feeling remorse for the first time in my career, until my soldiers dragged me out. I should’ve been put to death for not killing his kids and directly disobeying Eldra, but a highlord spoke in my defense and sentenced me to exile instead. After all, my squad did succeed in ending that rebellion."
The Sins were speechless. The mystery shrouding their commander was unveiled to expose an even worse reality. No one faltered, though it was obvious they wanted to. A few nervous glances here and there, maybe a gulp, but Drino kept on to sate their fears.
"There is no coming back from my detestable acts. When Blague heard the news that a Hiezer general had defied the Ice Queen out of some sense of moral obligation, he could hardly believe it. But this mark on my arm was all the proof that was needed.” He showcased his shining tattoo.
"For some reason, this world won't let me die. I've endured sixteen bullets, seventeen stab wounds and slashes, and flames, and yet I still stand before you to do all that I know. To fight. Only this time, I will carry out my missions for the right reasons, knowing full well that hell awaits me no matter what I try to correct." He stopped in place at the center of his fighters’ circle.
"Soldiers, follow in ending what I helped create and crush the generals that murder blindly." Drino slammed his fist into a locker. "What are you waiting for? Get to your aircrafts and meet me on the battlefield!"
Chapter 12
Sabin hovered over Blague’s unconscious body, staggering about from aircraft turbulence. Solemn eyes judged the Sin Leader, who looked anything but peaceful. There he was upon the floor - clenched fists, strained muscles, and a swirl of lines on his face from tightly shut eyes.
"Was it wise to bring him?" Sabin asked, raising his head to look at Eugene.
"'Under any circumstances' were his exact words," Eugene replied. "Besides, medic Hosarn cleared him. We just can't wake him up."
"No shit." Sabin slapped Blague's face for the hundredth time. “He’s been out cold for three days straight. Is he in some sort of coma?”
The jet rapidly shifted to a vertical descent, jostling everyone on board to test their balance. It felt like a free-fall amusement park ride of the Old World, or a skyscraper elevator zooming too quickly. Ears popped before pressure realignment kicked in and then thud, a hydraulic bounce from landing toyed with their stomachs.
“No, Hosarn described it as a state of hibernation. Ayelan does strange things to the body, but I suppose that’s a small price to pay for such a long life.”
"Uhh, I prefer my natural timeline. Life seems to be getting stranger by the day for this poor guy.”
Eugene flipped his rifle into his grasp. “A part of me has to agree with you. I feel like I’ve already had more than enough time here.”
“Always have to make everything a moody drag, don’t you?”
Eugene scoffed, “Shut up.”
The sound of feet rustling in the next compartment picked up, some muffled shouts in between. Squad formations, Eugene could tell, and the tense nerves before battle - the energy was palpable.
“Whelp, I guess we carry out the mission without him," Sabin said disapprovingly, noting that the jet had powered down. “Farewell for now, sleeping beauty.”
Eugene took a few steps and slid open the doors to the cargo hold. “It’s time,” he told the group of fighters. “Important reminder: this is a covert operation until further notice, so stay low.”
Sabin was the first down the ramp, dashing off of its side and jumping down into the mud. Mars followed closely behind, silent except for his eager panting, the same as a hunt. It was a beautiful night for it too, if not for what was about to spoil it. Swaying trimmed treetops flashed hints of the full moon above, roaring winds spat rain from heavy leaves. Perfect conditions to mask a predator.
The hunter was in his element, crouched, hidden behind a redwood in the night. Jet engines bellowed at either of his sides while thrusters scorched the weeds. Then came the Sins, filing out in a hurry just as they practiced, dabbing mud on their exposed marks like they’d been warned. Not a sound after the jet powered off, no muck ups as they came closer to their planned ambush. All was taking shape.
Eugene pressed an eye to his scope and inched into the sludge, like a lion on the prowl.
“Volaina’s timing is spot on.” Sabin pointed far ahead at the Hiezer silhouettes preparing to enter the Centric Crater.
“There’re hundreds of them. I’d be surprised if they didn’t trip the alarm.” Eugene motioned for him to trek onward.
“They have someone on the inside, Willzy Binge something or other,” Sabin said. “I would bet any number of coins that he’s guiding the Hiezers in.”
“We have visual of the advancing troops,” Lesh announced through intercom.
Eugene picked up his radio. “What’s the count? How many generals are we dealing with?”
“Three. Volaina just confirmed that Trillus is one of them.”
“All squads, advance with caution,” Eugene directed. “Volaina, if after the Hiezers take the plunge into the Crater you spot any scouts, take them out. We’re thin on silenced fighters.”
“Copy,” Volaina acknowledged.
“Rodest, how’s the mud over by you?” Sabin asked.
“Very funny, Sabin,” Rodest replied from Senation.
A smile crept across the hunter’s face. “Are you equipped to contact the Rogues? The Hiezers are beginning to advance.”
“On your word,” Rodest replied. “The signal is secured.”
“Right, and when you do, don’t forget to mention Willby Bunsinator,” Sabin said.
“What?” asked Rodest.
“Willard Hinge,” Volaina corrected, “the traitor.”
“That’s why I like you Sins, only one name to remember,” Sabin said dryly.
On Eugene’s mark, the Sins advanced into the tamed forest from all angles, like nightmares coming to life in shadow, stopping robotically in unison as they met their next checkpoint.
Sabin kept his golden eyes fixated beyond the trees, where the Hiezers commenced their descent into the massive pit. Once the last Hiezer profile faded from sight, he found an opportunity and took it. He and his wolf both padded atop the muck, String Blades and fangs out, gaining speed. A twinkle caught the hunter’s eye in a far corner peeking from a tree - a scout. Mars growled, confirming the threat.
“Volaina, your three-o’clock. Drop him,” Sabin spoke into radio while keeping haste.
Eugene slowed his pace to a cautious step and peered through his scope, backing Volaina in case she missed her mark.
“Have some faith, Eugene,” Sabin said quietly through radio, noticing the sniper’s retreat. “I need your cover once I hit the Crater.”
Eugene sighed, lowering his weapon and quickening his stride.
Sabin heard a dull thud followed by a splash of sludge.
“Dropped,” Volaina confirmed.
Eugene patrolled the field like a sentry gun. A hundred missions under his belt awarded something extra – his peripherals. Anything that moved… a squirrel, a leaf, anything, he knew about it, and knew when to turn.
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All clear, he thought to himself before dedicating his aim to Sabin’s blitz. And as if his talking to himself prompted the others, Lesh, Volaina, and their squad advanced from the far left, weaving between the shrubbery and vine, silently weeding out Hiezer scouts on the outskirts of the Centric Crater.
Eugene’s eagle eye was keeping note as overwatch, just to make sure. Then it moved to Drino, who trudged on his right with three squadrons fanning out from behind him.
A tingle made its way through the sniper’s body, raising a trail of goosebumps down his arms. The chemistry within the group gave him the same satisfaction that he felt on his first mission with them, reminiscent of the memory that Jen had reawakened for him. He refocused on the commander at the forefront, whose half-cape flapped behind him, and readied to do his part.
Something winked beyond them - night vision goggles scoping the area.
The hunter dove just in time, avoiding the scout’s sight before rounding behind each shrub he passed. Grooves of wet bark dug into his back while he peeked slowly from behind a tree, and Mars ducked low beside him, piling his weight on his hind legs, ready to pounce over a bush if his master called for it. They stalked quietly, relishing in the silent rush before the kill.
A branch snapped underfoot of an oncoming Sin, causing the Hiezer’s flickering goggles to swing. Obviously panic-stricken, the guard reached for his receiver, but Sabin used the distraction to his advantage and kicked off of the sturdy trunk while loosing one of his spinning blades. It curved like a boomerang around a line of trees to hone in on its mark. Metal clacking against bone proved that the razor’s edge bit deeper than the wolf could have. The force of the glaive had slammed the Hiezer’s head back into wood and left him gurgling and sprawled upon the boggy ground. Sabin raced forward along the path of his wire and whipped it to free the disc out from the Hiezer’s neck; it splashed blood the whole trip back into his glove.