Reapers: The Shadow Soldiers

by Josh Collins

  The momentum from the hit caused Burns to stumble backward, and he could hear bits of visor glass crackle and split as they hit the floor. Indeed, Gambi had damaged his display system. It could still be accessed, but it flickered and buzzed.

  Breathing hard and feeling a bead of sweat running down his brow, Burns looked over his shoulder at his unbeatable foe. The man stood, prosthetic raised, ready to deal an incapacitating strike. Burns could possibly counter it, but he didn’t know how much longer he could last afterwards.

  Suddenly, he saw Brosi leap from his position behind Gambi. Using his thrusters, the man landed a crushing blow to the back of Gambi’s head.

  Gambi grunted as he turned and swung at Brosi. The man dodged that attack but not the follow-up kick to the chest. Gambi then slashed upwards across Brosi’s right shoulder before finally striking down quickly across Brosi’s left thigh. The man let out a howl as he crumbled to the ground, blood instantly pooling.

  “Brosi!” Burns shouted, suddenly gaining some resolve and standing. Brosi needed pressure on the wound before he bled out.

  Activating vertical functions, Burns ejected the charged leg right into Gambi’s side, sending the man across the room and colliding hard with the glass walls. They cracked but did not break.

  Burns then knelt down next to Brosi. The man put a hand up, and Burns grabbed it.

  “We need to get you medical attention,” he explained.

  “Don’t worry, boss,” Brosi assured him, pulling his hand out of Burns’. Burns then realized he now had something inside his hand. It was the spike pin. Brosi had managed to swipe it off Gambi’s belt.

  He then heard some shuffling from behind. Turning, he saw Gambi had recovered and stood.

  Burns pulled off his buggy helmet and grabbed the severed end of the shotgun from the ground. Gambi lightly chuckled as he saw Burns’ battered face.

  “I do remember you,” he began. “You were the soldier who was injured. I wondered what had happened to you and that medic that saved your life,” Gambi murmured as he and Burns began slowly walking toward each other.

  “You want to know what happened?” Burns growled, eyes flaring under the cover of his long, matted hair.

  “Do enlighten me,” Gambi mocked, using the words as a distraction as he attempted to strike Burns across the face. Dodging the attack, Burns jabbed the shotgun shard into the prosthetic. The hard-light shield quickly dissipated, leaving Gambi powerless.

  Unhinged, Burns threw an unrelenting wave of fists at Gambi’s head like it was a punching bag.

  “You really want to know what happened?” Burns yelled. “You—you killed her!” he screamed painfully, blood spewing from his face as he continued his onslaught on the defenseless terrorist. Every vicious strike across the man’s face came with a sting of pain but also a feeling of irresistible freedom. He’d waited so long for this—nearly twenty years, and it was everything he had hoped for. Gambi managed to last a lot longer than the normal person, but that was only an aid to Burns. It kept the fantasy alive. The more punches he could throw, the better he felt. Society didn’t appreciate this—society didn’t understand such violence—but he didn’t care. He had begun to see a mirage of faces of the people that had been killed on Mardius, each of them fueling an even more primal rage in Burns’ attack. This was justice—this was true justice.

  Then Burns saw Evelyn. He expected that image to be what tipped him over the edge, except he felt no rage…only sadness. Gambi stumbled back and collapsed to his knees. Burns looked down at the man, at his broken and bloodied face. For the first time, they both understood what the other militants had been saying. The Reaper was truly here.

  “I only wanted freedom,” Gambi whimpered. The comment struck Burns to his core. He suddenly lowered his guard, realizing he was slipping back into his old, violent mold. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to kill in the name of vengeance—not again. He stumbled back a little. He didn’t know how he had been coaxed into it.

  Suddenly, the entire observatory shook, causing Burns to lose balance and stumble into one of the glass walls. He looked out, and he saw that the Duchess had been struck by the cannon, though he had given no order for her to descend. Perhaps Admiral Partinger really was an idiot.

  Turning back to the observatory, he noticed Gambi had stood.

  “And freedom we’ll have!” the man shouted, gaining more resolve. “The last of your oppressive ships will fall! Silverset will be returned! The Dominion will be defeated!” he exclaimed, spewing blood.

  Burns attempted to move, but Gambi kicked him back against the glass, which had yet to break. It was, however, weakened from bullet holes. One more strike was all the glass had left.

  Burns still held the pin in his hand. The Duchess may be struck down, but with the cannon off, they could land gunships. It wasn’t lost—he just needed to outlast.

  “You aren’t giving anyone freedom,” Burns explained, trying to buy time. “You’re only making people afraid!” Gambi’s face crinkled a little, irritated with Burns’ assessment of his mission. The distraction had worked nonetheless; Burns had bought enough time. Brosi had fought through the pain and crawled up to the control panel. It was over. The Dominion had won.

  Having enough, Gambi dealt the final kick to Burns’ chest. The glass broke through as Burns chucked the pin across the observatory to Brosi. The man caught the pin and inserted it into the EUC. In the meantime, Burns had activated what was left of his thrusters and managed to stabilize long enough to grab onto a stray wire hanging out of the battered observatory. The strain caused his wounds to flare up, but he was hanging on.

  Meanwhile, Brosi had injected the spike into the uplink. Gaining access to the EUC, Brosi tapped the screen and reverted the cannon to its natural programming. He then removed the spike and snapped it half. The cannon’s new directive was locked, and it was no longer targeting incoming ships. The Dominion could finally land reinforcements and overwhelm the remaining Collective. Silverset was well on its way to freedom.

  Gambi, however, was sent into a fit of rage by this defeat. Unthinkingly, he charged forward at the defenseless and injured Brosi.

  Burns saw the whole thing through the clear glass floors of the observatory. He attempted to pull himself up to assist, but the strain on his wounds was too much.

  Gambi soon reached a defenseless Brosi, and it didn’t look good. Burns looked away and immediately heard the crack of a pistol.

  Looking up again, fearing the worst, he saw that Gambi had been stopped in place. The man then collapsed, revealing Brosi holding a smoking pistol.

  Burns was astonished. David Brosi’s had just killed the most wanted man in the universe. Adrenaline lowering, Brosi realized what he’d done and threw the weapon away like the plague. This must’ve been his first kill.

  Burns continued to look at Gambi’s corpse, which had begun to cover the clear floor in a pool of blood. He couldn’t believe the man was actually dead. He just wished another man’s innocence hadn’t been destroyed in the process.

  A loud crash then took Burns out of his thoughts and rattled his bones. The fallen Western Duchess was crashing into Fort Ledger.

  He lost grip and fell another few feet before catching on again, only the strain this time was on the wire. It had begun to fray.

  “Colonel!” Burns heard Brosi yell from above. The man was peering out of the busted window.

  “Brosi!” Burns yelled back. “You gotta’ move—the Duchess will tear this place apart!”

  “No man left behind, sir!” Brosi maintained, grabbing the wire and attempting to pull Burns up.

  However, they hadn’t moved fast enough. The tower was soon hit by the cruiser. The stem snapped in half as the observatory began to fall. Burns held on to the wire as tightly as he could. The elevator cables managed to hold steady and keep the observatory from completely toppling over. However, the sudden change in momentum caused the wire to snap.

 
; Brosi instinctively jumped out of the observatory to catch the wire, but he was too late.

  Without any fuel canisters left, Burns began to free fall to the shattered remains of the Duchess below.

  Hanging from what was left of the observatory, Brosi could only watch and hope for the best.

  THE FUTURE

  Awakening with a pulsating headache, Burns instinctively gasped for air. He had blacked out before he hit the ground and had no idea how he’d survived. Yet, he had.

  Attempting to stand, he quickly realized he was trapped under several tons of indestructible metal plates at the very bottom of the Duchess’ ordnance storage room. He had little oxygen down here, and his gulping breaths weren’t making it any more plentiful.

  His only hope was a tiny hole at the top of the wreckage. He could vaguely see light shining through the darkness up there. He’d not be able to reach it—the wreckage was too heavy—but he may be able to get enough oxygen until a crew came to clean up the wreckage.

  Even then, a crushing negativity began to overcome him. By the time the crews were cleared to clean this up, he’d be long gone. Either from slow asphyxiation or dehydration. He had no hope.

  He attempted to shift around a little, trying to get comfortable and await his death, but he was really trapped. It didn’t seem like that was going to be a possibility.

  If it was any condolence, Intelligence certainly wasn’t going to bug him down here. Gambi was dead too. He really did have the peace he longed for. Yet, perhaps for the first time, Burns realized he didn’t want peace that bad. He actually didn’t mind a little conflict, once in a while.

  Suddenly, something fluttered down from the bright hole at the top. At first, Burns thought it was ashes or a smaller plate of metal. As it continued to flutter down from the heavens, he realized that it wasn’t those things at all. It was the portrait of Evelyn. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He’d thought he’d left it on the Syncopate. It must have been on him after all and came out as he fell. He really couldn’t leave it behind these days.

  The portrait lightly landed in front of him, Evelyn’s bloodied face facing his.

  He expected the portrait to comfort him, but instead it felt like it was taunting him. Something had changed. He no longer saw it as warm. All he could focus on was the blood around the corners and how it had gotten there. That wasn’t how you were supposed to remember the past. He realized it then.

  This portrait wasn’t Evelyn’s legacy—it was Burns’ greatest horror. It was delivered to him by his worst enemy and carried by him during his evilest of times.

  It shouldn’t have surprised him when the portrait suddenly burst into flames. This somehow made him feel a little relieved. Though it didn’t last long, because now there was a third way he could die. The lack of oxygen hadn’t completely eradicated the ordnance fires. Though, being burned to death was probably a lot quicker than the other alternatives.

  What a terrible convenience.

  As the flames closed in, Burns began to struggle to get free. The plates were heavy and he was very tired. He couldn’t even budge them, and he quickly gave in. It was no use.

  He then felt a rattle and heard a pop. The pressure from the fire was shifting the plates. They could be moved off him or on top of him.

  In fact, shortly after, one of the pieces came crashing down. He lunged as far away as possible to avoid it. It impacted hard and then fell away from him.

  He tried one more time to get free, figuring it was pointless to give up now when he had fought so hard in the past. Plus, the shift may have moved things around enough for him to slide out. With all the strength he had left, he grabbed an adjoining piece and pulled hard, desperately trying to get his legs free. It was to no avail. He simply couldn’t manage it.

  Frighteningly, the fires had reached him. They began to burn his suit first. The armor and flight suit were treated to repel fire, but it wouldn’t last long. Things were getting smokier as well. As sweat poured down his forehead and matted his long hair to his face, Burns coughed uncontrollably. The light at the top was getting dimmer and dimmer.

  Then, as all seemed to be lost, he remembered something. The flares. His team had been sent down with flares to notify the Western Duchess to land after the cannon had been deactivated. They hadn’t used them though. He remembered distinctly what pouch they were in.

  The pouch was trapped with the rest of his body underneath the plates. However, he may just be able to reach it. It was his last option. Sliding his hand underneath the plate, he pawed around for the pouch. It was tight down there, and he had very little room to operate, but this had to work.

  The fire now began to sear off parts of his flight suit and melt his armor. Soon, they would become part of him. The thought of that amount of pain encouraged him to paw for the pouch even more.

  Miraculously, he managed to find it. Biting his lip to better concentrate, he flicked open the clasp and reached into the pouch. Grabbing hold of the compact flare gun, he began to pull it out. The gun couldn’t be made as thin as his hand, so it scraped between his legs and the bottom of the plate. He could still manage to budge it, so he pulled as hard as he could, making progress every once in a while.

  His eyes had started to seriously water from the smoke, and the fire had now begun to sting his skin. Worse yet, the light at the top was even smaller. The plates were shifting. He had only minutes.

  Pulling the gun harder than he ever had, he let out a growl. Much to his relief, this got it. It popped and slid out from underneath the plate to freedom.

  Wasting no time, he pointed it toward the ever-shrinking light and fired.

  A bright light shot straight up and out of the carnage, through the hole, and into the expanse of Silverset’s gray, cloudy skies.

  If they were still alive, his teammates had to have seen it. They would come looking for him, he knew it.

  The fire and the smoke continued to grow, but Burns was less agitated by them than before. That’s when he realized that this was what hope felt like. It wasn’t a for sure thing. It was just a hunch. A bright light that you knew wouldn’t give up on you. Before, he couldn’t feel it because he hadn’t trusted anyone. Everyone he had put his hopes in had gone away, so he had stopped doing it. Now, it was all he had and it felt good. It felt right. They would come.

  He closed his eyes. His life was out of his hands, and he felt confident. Hopeful—like all those he had saved.

  A rattle and another pop caused him to quickly open his eyes. It sounded like the structure was coming down, but a few seconds passed and nothing happened. He then realized that the light at the top was a lot brighter than before. A lot.

  Through the smoke, his eyes made it out. A person was down here with him. As they peered from the shadows and came into view, he realized it was Shamera. She’d seen the flare, pushed open the hole, repelled down, and came to save him.

  “Are you ever not going to need a rescue?” she joked, removing a small fire extinguisher and coating the whole area with soft foam. It would buy some time.

  Throwing the extinguisher aside, she inspected the plates. They were still quite stuck. Burns didn’t know how she was going to bring down a lifting crane. Even if she figured it out, it’d probably take hours. Yet, that didn’t seem to be her plan.

  She knelt down and grabbed the lip of the lowest plate. There was no way she could lift it, unless her armor had been boosted. Brosi only had the one cartridge, and that was in Burns’ helmet. Unless, of course, she’d found his helmet and removed the cartridge. He knew instantly, that that was what she’d done.

  “No!” Burns shouted, not wanting her to risk her life on his account. “Don’t do this! It’ll kill you, Shamera!” She only shook her head and began to lift.

  “Can’t hide in the shadows forever,” she murmured as she began to make some progress. It was an unbelievable scene, an average person being able to lift that many metal plates. It must have been over a milli
on tons. He was frightened. This would almost certainly kill her. This was way past the capabilities even he dared to push the armor. When he’d used the functions himself, he’d held back. He could have run faster than he had or leaped higher, but he’d restrained himself. She wasn’t restraining at all.

  It worked though—soon the plates lifted a few feet off the ground and Burns’ legs were free. Being trapped under for so long had caused them to go numb. Walking was going to be trouble. Thankfully, Dominion reinforcements had repelled down as well.

  They helped Burns to his feet and then webbed him to their ropes. Once he was attached, they gave a thumbs-up to the top and he was pulled up.

  He looked down as Shamera began to release the plates. At first, it was a controlled release. Then she lost control and the plates dropped. She was out of the crushing radius but was thrown to the ground. Burns was near the top, but he could tell that she wasn’t okay from the way the other soldiers were tending to her.

  Burns was then grabbed from above and pulled out of the hole by Brosi, whose leg injury had been wrapped up by some bloodied linen.

  “It’s good to have you back, Colonel,” the man exclaimed, putting his arm around Burns’ shoulder and helping him to his feet.

  “Wait, wait!” Burns grumbled, not wanting the man to walk him anywhere until Shamera came out. Brosi understood, probably better than most. Despite the pain and the burned flesh, Brosi and Burns waited for the others to come out of the hole. The minutes passed, but Burns didn’t give up hope.

  He soon felt a decisive breeze from behind as a Libertarian class gunship touched down. Burns expected a team of airmen to exit, but only one person was aboard. Her brown hair fluttered around her fresh face as she leaped off the gunship and onto the tarmac. It was Index. She’d probably been waiting for days to deploy like this. Burns smiled slightly. He’d never thought he’d be glad to see her, but these were strange times.