The First: EVO Uprising

by Kipjo Ewers

  “Let’s get something straight.” He brought out his instill fear bass voice. “There is no co-leader; there is only one leader. Me. I’m the adult, you’re the child… I run this team… you’re part of the team who I give some extended authorities to because your brain pan is a lot bigger than our current Three Stooges. However, you still do what I say, and if you don’t like it then you can take your toys and your gadgets and get off my base… and the next time you decide to grow a pair and challenge me like I put a ring on your finger. I will personally throw you off this base… are we clear?”

  “Sir… yes sir,” she snarled.

  “I don’t give a damn if you’re Spock smart, you ain’t grown,” he snapped at her, “now we leave at 0900 hours tomorrow morning. I’m giving you the authority to make sure everyone is up, in gear, and on that deck by that time. If they’re not it’s on you. Are we clear?”

  “Sir… yes sir,” she answered with grinding teeth.

  Rogers marched off leaving Erica in a state of anger and hurt feelings. She stormed off in the opposite direction muttering something none too pleasant about the Sergeant.

  CHAPTER 8

  0500 hours the next day:

  Rogers rose out of his bed as if it was another day and hit the floor executing his routine two hundred push-ups. By right, he no longer needed to do any push-ups based on his physiology that would allow him to do them into next week without tiring; push-ups however kept him disciplined, reminding him that he was still human.

  He rose back to his feet, walking into the bathroom of his quarters and ran ice-cold water over his face. He then took a razor to both his skull and face for a quick clean up. He finished off his regimen with a thorough brush and floss.

  After a last rinse and spit, he headed over to where he placed his fatigue and gear after checking it last night only to find that it was gone, and replaced by something else. Where his military fatigue and flak jacket use to be was a black bodysuit with a body armored looked to it. Embossed on the front right breastplate was his rank as Sergeant, while both shoulders of the outfit bore the Regulator Eagle symbol. Rogers narrowed his eyes in bewilderment as he ran his hand over the material. Aside the from the breast and spinal plates, which had a rubber like feel to it, the rest of the suit seemed constructed from an extremely light and soft fabric.

  “Maxine!” Abe barked looking around.

  “Good Morning Sergeant Rogers.” She came over the audio system in his room. “How may I help you?”

  “What the hell happened to my gear?” he yelled.

  “The Miss had it replaced last night while you slept,” she responded.

  “What?” he barked. “How?”

  A holographic image beamed down from one of the micro cameras in the room replaying the comical event that went down under his nose as a duo of miniature Doozers snuck into his room while he slept taking his uniform from off the table replacing it with his new uniform before scurrying out as he turned over during mid-snore.

  “Where is it?” he howled.

  “She had it incinerated,” Maxine calmly responded.

  “Incinerated?” he roared in disbelief.

  “Yes sir, incinerated,” she repeated.

  “Where is she?” Abe reared his teeth.

  “She has instructed me not to give you her location,” informed Maxine. “She will meet you at the expected mission time with the team up and ready. She has also instructed me to play for you a recorded message. Shall I play it now, sir?”

  “Play it!” ordered an infuriated Rogers.

  “Good Morning, Sergeant Dooshbag,” Erica’s voice rang over the audio system. “By now you’re probably throwing a hissy fit because I got rid of your old duds. Get over it. You may run this team, but I am still in charge of facilities, tech, and gear for all operations, and I’m sorry gramps your gear is severely outdated… Desert Storm was last… last year. Before you is the latest in high-grade body armor designed by yours truly that I like to call IMPACT armor. It’s a million times stronger and more resilient than the stuff you’re use to wearing. It can withstand a direct hit from a 120mm KEW-A2 cartridge, and is resistant to both sub-zero freezing and 6.6 million degrees Fahrenheit. Considering who you are sending us up against is a bazillion times worst, it would be in your best interested to suit up. Sorry about torching your other gear, but I really didn’t want you to have another option… at least I made you a new matching beanie… see you 0900 hours… sir.”

  “She’s just a child.” Abe ran his mitt down his face. “She’s just a child… she’s just a child.”

  0845 hours:

  Rogers marched into the hanger all business decked out in his new gear. He wore his new black military beanie hat low as his team stood in line minus Lady Tech for inspection.

  Hard-On stood at attention wearing a similar outfit to Rogers in blue, black, and silver with the Regulator symbol also imprinted on the shoulders of his outfit. His boots were also similar to Rogers but in a deep blue color. Around his waist and right leg he wore a belt and holster system housed his sidearm. Rosanna stood next to him wearing a blood red and purple leotard version of their outfit also bearing the Regulator symbol on both shoulders. She also wore matching fingerless tactical gloves, and a sidearm and belt set up similar to her brother’s outfit. On her feet, she wore a form of open toe shoe system in purple and red that covered a portion of her shins, ankle and foot up to her toes, which made Rogers look her in the eye.

  “Sir,” Rosanna swallowed, “she said it was so I would not have to compromise the use of my abilities, sir.”

  Rogers nodded as he walked up to Blitz wearing a different version of their outfit with a glowing blue electrical grid pattern to it. Like everyone else, the shoulders of his outfit was adorned with the Regulator emblem. He wore black metallic bracers and boots with the same glowing grid pattern as his outfit. They were used to assist him in regulating his power output. Unlike his teammates, he did not carry a firearm. His abilities would either damage or render them useless in combat.

  “Where’s…” Abe began to ask, looking for Lady Tech.

  A large booming sound interrupted him and made all three facing him step back and look up.

  “Right behind you old man,” rang Erica’s voice.

  Rogers turned around to another booming sound, forcing him to look up as well. Erica sat in its three-fingered and thumbed left palm as it carried her. It stood a humongous sixteen feet tall with two hind legs similar to a cat or a dog. Like the android sisters it had white lights pulsating a powerful energy source, unlike the sisters a large one glowed from its breastplate. Its armored plating was a shiny chrome black with neon green flames like one would see on a supped up tuner car; Erica’s personal touch as she wore a skintight gray and silver plug bodysuit one would see in an anime cartoon. Like the rest of her teammates, each shoulder displayed the Regulator emblem.

  “What the hell is that?” Adrian was the first to break the silence.

  “This people is S.A.M.” introduced Erica, “S.A.M. wave to everyone.”

  “The goliath machine gave a cheerful wave with its free hand, unnerving everyone except for Rogers.

  “Okay,” chimed in Rosann, “what the hell is S.A.M?”

  “S.A.M. my good people stands for Synthetic Armored Mech;” informed Erica. “He’s my personal armored mobile suit.”

  “You mean you can ride inside of him,” asked Oliver, “like in Gundam?”

  “I do love a man who knows his anime,” smiled Erica, “but you are correct. S.A.M. here adds exponential muscle and firepower to our little team, which we desperately need.”

  Rogers donned a sardonic smile as he gestured for her to come down so that he may have a word with her.

  “Down please, S.A.M,” Erica nervously coughed knowing the conversation would be very unpleasant.

  The large armored mech slowly dropped to one knee, placing its creator gently to the ground. Lady Tech slowly strolled over to the Sergeant as if bracing
for a switching. He leaned forward forcing her to recoil backwards.

  “I warned you, if you try to test me… you’re going to lose,” he calmly whispered to her. “Torching my uniform was strike one, your fashionably late grand entrance was strike two… you want to break Limp’s record over there?”

  “Sir… no sir,” she swallowed hard.

  “Then move your tail and fall in,” Rogers ordered with a bass filled voice.

  Erica quickly scurried over to Oliver standing next to him and stood as straight as possible fighting through the embarrassing lecture she received. Rogers took one last look at the gigantic armor whose chest expanded as if it was breathing as it looked back at him. He shook his head as he turned to address his team.

  “Now that we’re done admiring each other’s Halloween costumes,” he began, “based on the debriefing which you all should have read we are heading to an uncharted man-made remote island in the South Pacific. There are civilians on this island, some of them are America, which means we do not bring a firefight unless necessary. This is strictly a recon mission and nothing else… is that clear?”

  “Sir, yes sir!” all four howled.

  “Alright then, get your gear and let’s load em up,” he gave his final order, “five minutes people, move it!”

  Four and a half minutes later Rogers boarded the Tornado taking a seat in one of the swiveling passenger chairs, strapping in.

  “Uh, excuse me, sir,” swallowed Adrian, “shouldn’t somebody be up there with her?”

  “I can’t fly a plane,” Rogers answered plainly, “can you?”

  Hard-On instantly transformed into metal form but not before Rosann quickly reached over touching him. She then grasped a metal portion of the seat transforming to a metallic form of her own. Adrian looked over to see Oliver grasping the armrests of his chair as if he was about to tear them off. A very ironic scene considering the electricity wielder seemed so comfortable in the air.

  “Dude,” he asked cocking an eyebrow, “you afraid of flying?”

  “Dude, I’m afraid of crashing,” Oliver got out.

  Adrian showing compassion took off his crucifix chain handing it to him. Oliver quickly grasped it, giving it a kiss, and then held it tightly as he grasped the armrest again.

  “Thanks, man,” Oliver said as he braced himself again.

  “Alright ladies,” Lady Tech announced over the PA system, “normally I would push this baby to get us there in under an hour. But considering it would be rude to show up unannounced during breakfast time, we will be cruising the normal speed to get us there by lunch. So sit back and relax. Next stop, our funeral.”

  The roof of the hanger opened as the Tornado was elevated to topside via the platform elevator it rested on. Daylight shined through the cockpit of the craft as Lady Tech went through final checks. The powerful engines whined and erupted sending gusts of wind and dirt everywhere. “Change the Game” by Jay-Z featuring Beanie Sigel and Memphis Bleek filled the cabin. Everyone in the cabin area looked at one another in disbelief save for Rogers who leaned back and tilted his beanie down to get some shut eye.

  Lady Tech’s head bobbed to the music as the Tornado went vertical into the air. Dominant rear thrusters replaced the V/STOL as the Tornado rocked off towards its destination.

  ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜

  1215 hours:

  Almost four hours later the Tornado entered the no fly zone around Sophia’s island. Erica quickly cut the music getting everyone’s attention, while waking a slumbering Rogers, who was out for majority of the trip.

  “Look alive people,” Lady Tech’s voice sounded over the PA system again. “We have reached the point of no return. We’ll be coming up on our destination in five minutes.”

  The trio, along with Rogers, looked outside their respective windows to get a view of the massive land mass that was an official ghost to the rest of the world.

  “Holy,” was all Adrian got out.

  Rosann followed up with “Wow.”

  Oliver who finally settled into his seat just sat there with a look of amazement of how beautiful the island looked from his viewpoint.

  Sitting in the middle of the snow-white sand of the beach that circled half the island like a crescent moon was a gargantuan highly polished black granite stone with the words “Welcome to the Sanctuary” etched deeply within it. Fresh tropical vegetation covered at least ninety percent of the island. Integrated within the forest and foliage were large highly constructed huts the size of houses and mini mansions with what appeared to be solar paneling on the roofs. The team could view specks of what appeared to be people pausing to look back up at them.

  Lady Tech’s bio signature tracking system pinpointed Sophia’s location as she piloted the Tornado to the far side of continent size island’s beach where there appeared to be new housing being constructed. Children running around on the beach playing tag stopped to look up in wonderment as the Tornado flew over them looking for a place to land. A bunch of women of various ages, sizes, ethnicities, and backgrounds sat at the edge of the beach to sunbath and get their feet wet looked up as well, and then at each other with worried looks wondering who was coming to disturb their peace this time.

  ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜

  A young pale slender male covered in tattoos with piercings through his lip, nose, and ears sporting a purple Mohawk ran through the construction site of the new hut homes with a frantic look on his face. Some of the workers yelled at him telling him to watch it as he almost bumped into people and knocked over some building material as he rushed up the stairs of one of the newly constructed huts.

  “Sophee!! Sophee!” hollered the panting young man.

  On this day, she wore a bright yellow and black bikini top with blue daisy duke shorts, which displayed her extremely tone and womanly features. Her eerie glowing blue eyes and bright smile underneath her long jet-black dreads greeted the frazzled young man trying to catch his breath.

  “Hey Zeek,” she chirpily responded.

  “Soph,” he coughed fighting to get air, “there’s... a ship…”

  “I know,” she chuckled, “just catch your breath and calm yourself.”

  “Never... seen anything like this before,” he gasped. “Looks like we’re being invaded!”

  “Doubt that,” she smiled, “but why don’t you do me a favor and quietly ask everyone on the beach to calmly head back to the village for me.”

  “You got it Sophia,” he nodded ready to help.

  As she watched a hyperactive Zeek run out of the hut again to do her proud, an older man, fourteen years her senior, and several shades darker with a cue ball look and peppered beard in a simple white tank top, jeans, and construction boots walked up to her holding a board in his hand.

  “Trouble?” he asked.

  “Don’t think so,” she turned to him, “but why don’t you take everyone back to the village as well for a break... just in case.”

  “We can stay and help you know,” he gestured.

  “If I need help,” she smiled, “I’ll scream.”

  The man just grinned at her little joke of reassurance.

  “All right people,” he howled, “lunch time, back to the main village!”

  As everyone departed, Sophia strolled out standing at the open door of the hut, watching as the now hovering ship descended on the remote side of the beach several yards away. Despite the great distance, the force of the VTOL’s thrusts sent sand in her direction. Shaking her head with a smile still on her face she returned to work.

  ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜

  Back at the landing site, the Tornado’s crew disembarked and began securing the perimeter around their ship, while Lady Tech scanned the beach for the location of the inhabitants and their target.

  “Save for those
two over there,” she pointed, “everyone else is back at the village, and our target is still in the new construction.”

  “Doing what?” Adrian asked.

  “Working,” she shrugged.

  “So what’s the plan, Sarge?” he turned to Rogers.

  “Recon.” Rogers looked at him wondering if he was sleeping during the debriefing. “Which means you sit your tanned ass here, while I go have a conversation, and the next time you call me ‘Sarge’ instead of ‘Sir,’ I’m going to pound your sorry ass into the ground like a tent peg.”

  Rogers walked off as Hard-On glared at him clutching his fists with sheer frustration.

  “Is anyone else getting really tired of this shit?” he lashed out, looking around.