by Marc Mulero
Eugene, focused on ten things at once, saw a familiar flash of fire radiate from his peripheral, the source being Volaina’s muffled rifle. It was like a silent movie, because as he traced the trajectory of a soundless spark, he caught a glimpse of the armored body falling near the Crater’s precipice just as quietly. The operation was now in motion. Two… four… six squads were about to be at the general’s heels. And all of it was threatened when he realized that one lone hunter was ahead of the pack, who’d cleared enough ground so they were no longer within earshot of each other. A curse spat under his breath.
“Sabin, slow down. There must be more patrol at the top,” Eugene whispered through radio. “We need to scope out the situation first!”
“Are you kidding? By then the advancing elites will’ve infiltrated the Rogue headquarters. Just cover me, Eugene,” Sabin said back, now within a few feet of exiting the forest.
The hunter broke past the plain of mud and stomped fresh, wet tracks onto the rocky terrain. He barreled head first toward the cliff of the Crater, where two guards stood watch for Rogue activity in the other direction. The enemies must’ve felt urgent steps at their backs because they spun with pointed rifles, only to be met with hot lead mid-pivot, sending them both twisting down.
“My kills,” Drino’s voice haunted through the receiver.
The hunter shrugged, sheathed his weapons and picked up more speed, abandoning caution on his plunge down the first slope of the Centric Crater. A shadowed abyss of sunken land was layered like the inside of an onion, about a mile wide and deep, speckled with black and gold bodies sneaking deeper and deeper down its pits. The view took Sabin’s breath away. His heedless dive yielded a space too vast and enemy numbers too great for a favorable outcome.
He took refuge behind one of the oversized boulders that decorated the first ring of flat land, then beckoned his wolf. Mars sprung on signal, darting in a zigzag pattern down the slope to come meet him.
Feeling his heart beating in his throat, Sabin knew that he may have jumped the gun. His hand was shaking as he reached for his device. Silent curses all the way, “Now,” he whispered forcefully, “Rodest, alert the Rogues. The Hiezers are already four layers deep!”
Eugene set up his post at the tip of the outer rim, gaining an aerial view of the hunter’s position and all that he just warned them of. He watched Sabin click off his radio and then felt the unease of him freezing as still as a corpse.
“No,” Sabin said to himself. His breath caught in his chest, fingers prickling with numbness, jaw clenched so tight that a tooth might crack. All because a cluster of pebbles – which may as well have been boulders - trundled down the knoll that the duo had just trampled through. “No,” he repeated… closing his eyes, wishing it away. Silence before a curse when he heard multiple sets of footsteps accelerate from a lazy patrol to an alarmed sprint.
One Hiezer traced the beaten path, completely alert and ready. His rifle targeted a moving object made of fur. It didn’t matter if it was a random animal. Orders were orders. Kill anything that wasn’t a Hiezer. Anything. And then came the rain.
Sabin lunged for Mars with both of his arms and yanked him to safety while silenced bullets kicked up gravel, just shy of puncturing the beast’s skin. “Ahck!” he grunted lowly, each stream helping to peck apart the rock that veiled them. “C’mon boy!” He pulled a blade with one hand and restrained his companion by the collar with the other. They were being showered with debris, so much so that he wondered if the clips were endless. But finally, it stopped. Firing ceased, and Sabin peeked low to gauge the Hiezer’s positioning before letting his disc fly.
“Go, boy.” He released his grip on Mars’ collar, drew his second glaive and stepped out mid-swing.
He hurled his reaper like a discus, using the momentum of his throw to whip back the first and bring his enemy’s bone fragments along with it. The airborne blade twirled against a guard’s neck like a buzz saw on wood, fanning blood on its way.
Mars curled under one wire and over the next like a show animal in a circus, only he wasn’t going for applause. A pounce as deadly as his master’s blades landed with the third guard being knocked to the floor. Jaws of steel then snapped over the flat of the Hiezer’s trembling gun as he fought the wolf’s strength… all while Sabin pulled back his weapon, and with both in hand, tossed them high up behind him before curling into a high-powered somersault. He looked like a scorpion for a hot second as his String Blades lashed down like a sprung trap, quieting the complaints of his grounded enemies with two edges cleaving their skulls. Mars won his duel at the same time, overpowering his opponent to make a mess of him, ending the close call.
The hunter peered over the ledge of flat land to see if anyone was alerted to the commotion above. Hiezers kept about their business, and so he spoke into his receiver and reported, “We still have our cover.”
“I see that,” Eugene responded.
“All teams, breach the layers. Hiezers are scattered in squads. Let’s finish these fuckers.”
Lesh leapt down the slope leading to the first layer of the Crater, landing a quiet tumble that ended with two feet on flat land. Three strides moved her to the first boulder, and four to the next, all soundless. Not even the air was disturbed. A fist went up to signal Volaina and her crew crouched over the precipice above, and off they went to the next point like they were tethered to a string.
A brief gold shimmer heeded her, revealing a curious guard monitoring the depths ahead, further proving that the Hiezers hadn’t expected company from the rear.
The generals are taking some precaution. Too bad for them, they should have left more than a single guard at each post.
Lesh crossed her arms, reaching for two knives at the nethermost side of her ring and signaled for Volaina’s next descent. She then rose from her crouched position and kept a keen eye on her target, arching her back and contorting her torso to wind up her swing. The knives flew ahead of the airborne assassin, who was so sure of her aim that she raced down to claim her prey before he was touched by the blade. They sailed, one trailing the other, both en route to offer a quick death.
The Hiezer groaned from a knife puncturing the nape of his neck, more in shock than in pain. Before he could try to move, the second blade slid deeper into the same mark like two darts on a bullseye. There he stood, nerves severed from the neck down, heart pumping blood through a faulty track while teetering at the edge of the cliff he was guarding, threatening to dismantle the entire stealth mission with one wrong sway. But Lesh dug her heels, sliding to an abrupt stop over gravel and snatching the lifeless guard’s neckline before his dive down the ridge. Beads of blood spilt from the point sticking out from his neck, dripping to the rocks below before she yanked him backward and ripped the fangs free. She held up three fingers to communicate the number of guards on the next layer below, and then formed another fist, signaling to take them out.
Volaina steadied her aim to comply when suddenly the burst of a flare gun went off overhead, firing upward from the first layer of the Crater.
Lesh's head jerked from the sound, before her eyes followed and reflected the flare’s ascension into the sky.
"Fools."
Shouts and commands from frantic Hiezers and their generals resonated throughout the inverted dome.
"You check to make sure they're dead. You always check!" Drino scolded before releasing the soldier by his collar. He walked over to the wounded Hiezer who had fired his flare and put an unsilenced bullet through his head. "Cover is blown, all teams open fire!" he broadcasted.
“Coe Delrick of the Templos Rogues has tapped into the frequency,” Rodest announced.
A barrage of bullets shortly followed, lighting up the sky as both sides fought for their lives. An array of commands could be heard from any section of the ringed canyon, creating chaos while Drino’s squads dispersed out on his order. The Sin attacks were no longer restricted to those wielding silenced rifles, for every armed soldier worked to end
the Hiezer assault.
“This occurrence seems pre-orchestrated by both sides,” Coe said suspiciously. “But we will accept your assistance nonetheless.”
“Of course you will,” Sabin said. “We’re laying our lives on the line here, you jackass.”
Bullets whizzed uphill toward Drino’s squads. Heads ducked, commands were given, but the blackness of night took away order, leaving much of the battle up to chance as Sins peered down to return fire. It was like staring into the face of death for some. Sins fell… Hiezers fell. It was chaos. Only the few equipped with night vision were able to gain some kind of advantage. Thin supply was better than no supply.
“Sir,” Airos screeched, a night vision patch illuminating one eye. “Confirming that there are no Sin fighters directly below us, only Hiezer elites.”
Drino deadlifted his massive Gatling gun and heaved it over the ledge in acknowledgement. With bared teeth and manic joy, he jammed down the trigger, letting fire erupt from his churning cannon.
“End them!” Drino roared over the resounding clatter of his gun, flashes of fire flickering light over his scarred face. “Not one of them infiltrates this base. Kill them all!”
The hot areas were lit with open war. Drino hopped onto a rocky slope and slid as he held down the trigger, exposing himself to the Hiezers below, but creating enough havoc to force them into cover.
“X, Y, charge with me!”
The Sin commander huffed… not the I’m-tired kind, but the I-can’t-get-there-soon-enough kind. Ten more downhill stomps to flat land. Finally. He dropped his gun to let it cool, took refuge behind a boulder, and held his device up to his ear to listen to the ongoing chatter.
“I repeat: forces are gathering at the entrances,” Coe said, the clamor of footsteps sounding behind him. “We will wait on your word before we open the hatches.”
“That may be exactly what they want,” Volaina said. “I have eyes on a crate that two Hiezer guards are hauling, most likely containing explosives.”
“Understood,” Coe responded. “Then I will deploy Special Forces through our escape routes to provide you with assistance.”
“Things are heating up out here,” Sabin snapped, the sound of bullets polluting the background. “Please shut up and do things.”
Drino put down his radio and looked back to see that his teams weren’t following. To his dismay, he caught a glimpse of one of his troops with his hands behind his head.
“Z, get to the position of X and Y, immediately,” he boomed.
Drino felt nothing of fear or worry. All of that skin had shed when he became a Hiezer general. The only human layer that had ever grown back since then was his conscience. With a sense of duty to his soldiers and a deranged sort of joy within himself, he grunted after every hunched step back up the slope. The grave danger of his squads kept him digging his heels deeper, hauling his one-man arsenal to reach the top, not at all aware of the position he’d end up in.
One giant step launched the brute commander back onto flat ground to disrupt the Hiezers and free his wrangled squads. He blitzed the enemy closest to him, wrapped in tunnel vision like a bull charging red, ending his assault with a set of brass knuckles jammed into his target’s temple. Black shreds of a mask’s fabric tore from the bludgeoned strike that killed on impact, and the lifeless body became dead weight as it was lifted to shield what came next. Drino opened fire wildly to gift his squadrons the moment they needed to retrieve weapons and resume battle, feeling the vibrations of bullets finding homes in the bag of meat.
“Murder them all!”
Drino halted his fire to hear footsteps pounding up the slope from behind. Thump. Thump. Thump. He grinded his teeth, knowing he only had seconds left, and kicked the human shield with the force of three men, bowling it into the Hiezers in front of him and pivoting to lunge at the nearest guard. His brass fist clanged against a rifle. The pressure would’ve broken a normal soldier’s wrist, but in this case the metal bent – the force of his punch knocking it straight to the floor. As the guard looked down, dumbfounded, at his now empty hands, Drino’s other fist was already rising straight up. An uppercut sent him flying and tumbling back. With no time to waste, Drino dove frantically like a wolf, an overgrown one, or perhaps a werewolf, managing to stay one frenzied step ahead of Hiezer aim, charging in too close for the guards to regain composure.
“That’s enough!” a muffled voice shouted, followed by the appearance of a man walking with his rifle targeted at Drino’s chest. He had four guards at each of his sides, and another batch working to disarm the Sins.
Drino lowered his clenched fists and tensed his jaw, his body nearly hemorrhaging from all of the adrenaline. The remaining fighters finally lowered their weapons once they’d realized their commander had been captured.
“Ex-general Drino, what a sick twist this turned out to be,” a general spoke, displaying a prominent white claw etched onto the leather armor around his neck.
Drino recognized the general’s mark, but chose not to speak. He was barely able to hide the disgust imprinted on his face.
“Your snipers above are about to be overrun. Your failed ambush is but a setback. The Rogues will fall,” the general said, keeping the barrel of his gun aligned with Drino’s heart.
“We’re all on borrowed time,” Drino proclaimed harshly. “That goes for every one of us who helped push this agenda blindly.”
“To think I fought beside you once,” the Hiezer said, shaking his head at his old comrade. “Others spoke of you being on the Defiler List, but I just couldn’t accept it, until now. You deserve a traitor’s death.”
Drino lifted his chin. “I won’t falter again, Ruden. So, I would work quickly if I were you,” he challenged with a grin and then spit on the Hiezer’s boot.
General Ruden surveyed the crowd of nervously twitching Sins, looking for the most dedicated, fiercest. Someone to break their ranks, someo-
“You!” he called out immediately after laying eyes on her. “Step forward.”
Chella dropped her gun, her frown deepening, eyes to Drino, then to the general.
“Stop… right there. Good.” He clapped her back. “Very good,” he dragged out his words for effect. “Now,” he nodded to Drino, “give her your knife. No… that one. I remember it. Had no idea someone as ruthless as you could be superstitious, old brother… hah!”
Chella stood with unforgiving eyes upon Ruden as a Hiezer took Drino’s knife and forced it into her hand.
“Don’t eyeball fuck me, rebel. We got work to do, so pay attention.” Ruden lifted his chin. “You see the soft spot, right there? Open it.”
Her brow furrowed.
“No, no. Don’t give me that. You know what I’m asking. Open the neck of this spineless deserter you choose to follow. No stalling, we don’t have all night. Many more of you to wipe off of the bottom of my boot before I’m done here.”
Chella’s chest expanded and contracted more noticeably with each passing second. She was okay with death, had come to terms with it, was even ready to find her husband again in the afterlife. But she wasn’t ready for this. Betrayal on the grandest scale.
Every time she tried to hold her breath, all she could hear was her heartbeat, all she could see was a masked madman pulsing in her vision.
“Do it now!” He frightened her by the abruptness. “Before I change my mind and put a bullet in each of your comrades’ heads instead of detaining them,” he warned, signaling the rest of the Hiezers to ready their weapons.
One step forward. Her thighs felt like warm jelly. Another step. She was going to faint, for sure. But eventually, tumbling around in her thoughts, reluctantly, she stepped behind her commander and raised a shaky arm to level the blade against his throat.
Her brow furrowed again. It was weird how calm Drino was, like he was ready too.
“She almost looks excited to end your life,” Ruden lied, exacerbating the situation.
Even with the sharp blade touching his skin,
Drino refused to waver.
You would take me now, before correcting so few of my wrongs?
The powers that be answered Drino’s question in the form of a creeping member of Squad Z rising from behind the general and his henchmen. Shuffling feet alerted Ruden, who made the mistake of turning his head.
Chella quickly dropped the knife into Drino’s hand; he lunged to knock the tip of Ruden’s rifle upward before the gun blast could rip through him, exchanging the attempted shot with a stab to the general’s trapezius. The blazing gunfight was brief, leaving the remaining Hiezers to fall one by one, until all barrels were pointed to the general, forcing his surrender.
Drino delivered a jolted punch to Ruden’s gut and picked up his device. “Snipers, watch your six!”
The sonorous blast of Eugene’s rifle kicked and another Hiezer fell. One by one, those creeping up the slope like ghouls spawned by night were stripped of their lives. He was a guardian angel, shifting position to watch wherever it was that the hunter and his beast treaded. Alas, blood still flowed uninterrupted in the duo’s veins, allowing them to scour further down to the thickest depths of the Crater.
There it was - below the next layers. It all led to what had to be Rogue headquarters. A large, protruding peak stemming from deep underground, like a pointy pearl within an oyster. It looked natural at first, made by whatever underground beast pulled the sinkhole from under the earth in the first place. But a closer look revealed the rock had been shaved, carved by human. It was like a gigantic tent made of bedrock. The Hiezers must have figured the same, because that’s where they stopped. Their objective was now in reach.
Drino’s radio warning of potential ambush was overwhelmed by the melody of war, drowned by the sniper’s continued flexing of his finger, the hunter’s culling blades, and the wolf’s vicious attacks.