"So," Ratt whispered, eyes wide as he studied the woods, "where to from here?"
"I think... this way." Maya pointed up ahead and to her right. "There should be a trail, then a pond, and a pagoda beyond."
"Potoda?" Ratt inquired.
"An old-style building. A foreign castle, used by Emperors," Maya explained.
"That explains a lot..."
"Enough chatter. Be quiet and stay on your toes," Lucy scolded without looking back. "My Lady, I hate it, but you must lead the way. I will be beside you."
Maya stepped up to Lucy and then proceeded. Lucy followed closely, scanning the shadows of the trees for movement. Her machine ears picked up the snap of a twig from behind a wall of shrubs, and she alerted the group by dropping into a squat and raising her pistol. Maya and Ratt froze in place, holding their breath, eyes wide.
A deer stepped out from behind the shrubs, chewing a wad of vegetation. Everyone exhaled. The creature studied them as if bored, then wandered off in search of more things to eat. The trio took a moment to collect themselves and then pressed on.
Maya's memory proved true, which Lucy supposed said something about Warbak's mind. Precise, exact. That isn't normal, she thought but decided not to complain. Maya led them to the manicured path she’d known would be there, and soon it led them to a pond. As they approached the banks of the water, it rippled to life as a swarm of greedy Koi fish rushed at their arrival.
"Everything here is tame," remarked Ratt.
"It only looks like the natural world," Maya explained, "but it's planned. Planned and controlled. Every tree, every fish. They were put here with intent. Their growth, their whole existence, life and death, carefully maintained and controlled. That is how Warbak sees the world. He wants all the Earth to be like this."
"He wants it to be perfect," Ratt said.
"Perfectly fake," Maya corrected. "He's insane. I know that now. He replaced his citizenry with robots. He won't stop with Home either. He means to betray his masters, betray the Harvesters."
"Yeah. Lemme know how that works out for him," Ratt said.
"My Lady, there!" Lucy interrupted and pointed out across to the far side of the pond with the tip of her Macuahuitl.
In a clearing in the ubiquitous trees rose a microcosm of the Ziggurat, skinnier and more stylized. It was made from wood and carved with delicate arches and sloping angles. While framed in dark wood, its walls were a blend of stacked, cut stone and soft white paper.
"The pagoda," Maya confirmed. "Ratt?"
The kid adjusted his goggles and fished his N-Tab out from the satchel he wore. After a few taps on the screen, he clicked his tongue and nodded. "Yup, you were right, Maya. The signal is coming from in there."
"Then let us finish this," Maya said and led the way.
"Hold still!" Miller hissed through his clenched jaw as he tracked a flying Hopper above. "Got to lead 'em." He squeezed the trigger of his heavy machine gun and fired a long burst into the sky. His shots popped off, climbing into the air as the weapon itself numbed his shoulder pocket with its rhythmic thumping. "Got ya!" He called out loud as his bullets connected with the soaring jock. Just in time, he thought when he released the trigger and noticed the barrel of his gun softly glowing. He glanced back up out the window to confirm that his hit was good and smiled broadly when he saw the power armor spiraling out of control as it plummeted to the ground, eventually crashing into a ramshackle building and exploding.
Having no need for a glove or mitt, as his hands were as much machine as the weapon itself, Miller grabbed the hot barrel and gave it a twist and pull, removing it and setting it off to the side. He fetched a replacement barrel from his webbing and was about to drop it in when he heard the crash of splintering wood from downstairs.
"What the—?" He turned from the window just in time to see a Sniffer leaping up the stairs that led to his perch. It was too fast and would have him. He knew it, and he suspected the machine-dog knew it too. Nevertheless, combat veteran instinct clicked on and, dropping the rifle, Miller shot his hand down to the grip of the pistol he knew was there. As his thick metal fingers closed around the pistol, the Sniffer made one last leap, a pounce that would bring it right to Miller's feet. The grizzled vet flinched and pulled back, even as he drew his sidearm. The metal-clad hellhound came down on the landing at the top of the stairs... and then began to sink. The weight of the creature compromised the rickety flooring of the hovel, shattering the rotten wood. The Sniffer's clawed paws flashed as it tried to find some purchase to prevent its fall, but its efforts proved to be in vain, and it fell back down to ground level, twisting and howling.
Miller quickly recovered from his shock and stepped to the edge of the gaping hole, took aim, and fired off four rounds before the Sniffer finished falling. The mecha-dog landed with a thud which was drowned out by another six rounds from Miller's double-barreled pistol. He paused, then gave it two more shots, for good measure.
The echo of the last two shots rang in Miller's ears even as the house fell silent. He narrowed his eyes and scanned what little of the downstairs he could see. He looked to the stairs—he could make it if he jumped—but then thought better of it after recalling the Sniffer's fate. But they travel in packs... and where there are Sniffers...
There is a Handler.
A voice not his finished the thought, ringing in his skull as if a ghost inhabited the space between his ears and spoke through a megaphone. He felt it too, more than heard it; the voice of the other. Miller doubled over, his head splitting in blinding pain, and dropped his pistol. It clattered to the floor below, landing next to the slain Sniffer, but Miller neither heard it nor saw it.
And now, you will be scrubbed, the voice said, and then Miller felt a psychic uppercut to his brain. His hands shot up and clenched both sides of his head like a vice. He thought he was screaming, but he couldn't be sure, for all outside sound now sounded like an electric buzz. His vision, too, began to shift and blur. Colors changed, and what could only be described as static filled in the spaces where natural shadows fell.
"But how?" Miller called out. Or rather tried to. In his mind, the question formed, but his mouth emitted only a garbling groan. "The Purge... that means that the Handlers..."
Aren't human? Aren't alive? the other in his head asked. Another uppercut. Miller cried out once more as blood pooled in his eyes and began to run down his cheeks. He wobbled, tipped, and fell on top of the ruined Sniffer.
I assure you, Sgt. Miller, traitor to the Republic, I am more alive than you will soon be.
The last thing Miller saw before his vision completed devolved into buzzing lines of flashing colors was the Handler stepping out of the shadows, flanked by two more snarling Sniffers.
That was too close! Jon tipped the wings of his Hopper towards the sheer face of the Ziggurat as a stream of glowing plasma flew by him. The discs missed him by mere inches and splashed onto the outer walls of the Zigg, instantly melting the steel alloy and setting fire to the insulation beyond. Jon straightened his body and craned his neck to look straight up, then pulled into a steep climb, skimming the Ziggurat like a dragonfly over water, chasing its evening meal. He felt the heat of the melting and exploding steel just below him and knew his adversary would make the slight correction is its aim any second. So close was he to the walls he climbed, Jon was unable to turn around and face the Spartan pilot; if he tried, his wings would collide with the Ziggurat itself. Got myself into a pickle here.
Suddenly the plasma assault stopped. Paused more like it, Jon thought and knew the moment had come. The jock on his tail would correct his lead and resume fire. In three, two, one!
Jon cut all power to his thrusters and reached out with both hands to push off the face of the Zigg. As expected, his opponent re-opened fire, the discs now landing higher. Jon flipped backward and away from the city-fortress as the pursuing Hopper raced by him, slowing down and reacting to Jon's aerobatics a moment too late. Jon was falling, back parallel to the earth be
low when he locked onto the enemy, once the pursuer, now the pursued, and opened fire.
The power armor and the Spartan inside exploded in a brilliant ball of melted steel and fire. Jon fired back up his thrusters and pulled away from the Ziggurat, not wanting to get caught with his back up against the wall again.
The edge of the Zigg's corner approached, and Jon banked off it, zeroing in on his mission, the north-eastern obelisk. A trio of Hoppers occupied the space between him and it. He saw them, and they saw him, and the sky erupted in an exchange of plasma fire.
Jon was alive, on fire, almost completely at one with his machine, matching the robot pilots every step of the way, deftly dodging what they threw at him while returning fire of his own. His eyes caught the puff and flash of a mini-missile launch. Anticipating the attack spread of the smart projectiles, Jon slowed his thrust, waited for the volley to spread out, and then gave his engines full throttle, barreling into the space between the missiles like a suicidal madman.
The maneuver worked. Jon shot through the collapsing ring of missiles, and as he came out the other side, the missiles, in their attempt to intercept Jon, all collided with each other and detonated harmlessly in the air. Rolling in place, Jon shot down the launcher of the missiles and sped by the other two, even as they altered their courses to give chase.
Jon was rapidly approaching the sphere-adorned obelisk. He glanced up to gauge the distance and get a feel for the timing, then ceased his rolling, his back facing the earth, and started shooting behind him. He clipped one of the two Hoppers almost instantly while the second easily outmaneuvered his shots. Knowing he was out of time, Jon rolled back over so his belly faced the ground climbed just seconds before he would have collided with the tower. His target, the sphere, loomed into view and Jon slowed his climb, preparing to drop the cluster of Weaver sacks. He moved into position and had just released the package when a disc thrown from the last pursuing Hopper cut into his suit.
"Argh!" Jon cried as his Hopper spun from the impact. It was a glancing blow, only managing to tear away some armor and burn him. I still have my leg, thank the gods. And I'm still flying. Jon regained control of his spinning suit and turned to face the incoming Hopper. As the enemy popped into his HUD, it released a volley of missiles.
"Shit!" Jon managed to get his guns up just in time, and while flying backward at full speed, shot down the advancing missiles. This one is good, better than the others. But how, if they're all robots?
It was only then that Jon noticed the unit number on the wings of his adversary: 451-223.
Hegna.
"You're gonna have to try harder than that, Hegna!" Jon called out over the speakers of his suit as he banked right and tucked into another barrel roll, the last of the missiles having been shot down. Hegna, or what used to be Hegna, paused in mid-air, doing nothing as Jon raced towards the sphere, hammer in hand. Is it malfunctioning? Or did it recognize its old name? Jon wondered, then dismissed it as providence. Unhindered, he closed the gap, tipped slightly to the left and swung for all his worth as he blew by.
The sphere shattered, releasing a third explosion of light, sound, and spirit.
Almost done, Jon thought and raced for the last objective, ignoring the stunned Hopper behind him.
It was too easy. No one or no thing stood in their way as the approached the yawning open door to the pagoda. Lucy didn't like it, not one little bit. Having reached their destination, at least within reason, Lucy bade Maya resume her place behind her and once again led the way forward.
Cautiously, Lucy stepped into the darkness, expecting anything and everything. As she entered the pagoda, she glanced left and right and was surprised to find nothing, save two pedestals upon which potted miniature trees sat. Up ahead stretched an austere hallway, lined with sliding panels of wood-trimmed paper. At the far end, a set of rosy wooden stairs. Light illuminated the hall as she entered it, Ratt and Maya close behind. The bulbs themselves were hidden by unassuming molding, and otherwise, the hall was bare. She paused before going on, waiting for Ratt to inform her as to the exact whereabouts of the signal.
"It's upstairs," Ratt reported, a hint of apology in his voice. Lucy nodded and continued to probe the hall.
They were about halfway to the stairs when Lucy heard the unmistakable scruff of one the hall's panels sliding open. She spun around, fast as a striking snake, pistol ready. It was Ratt that had slid the panel open, apparently unable to restrain his curiosity.
"I nearly shot you," Lucy barked. She would have continued in her scolding of the man-child, but all anger fell by the wayside when Maya gasped. Lucy lunged forward, putting herself between her Lady and whatever was behind the now open panel. When Lucy saw it, she too gasped.
Behind the panel was a small cubicle space, in the center of which knelt a wretched creature. A breast-less, naked female form, without eyes, hands, or—as it turned out upon closer examination—legs. Her lips were sewn shut with thick black cord but, sensing the arrival of people, she began to moan pitifully. A series of clear tubes and metal-braided electrical wires draped down from an udder-like half-sphere on the ceiling and were attached to various places across the quasi-woman's body. The poor soul had obviously been experimented on, cybernetically, as indicated by the robotic-looking receptacles on her bare chest where her breasts should be.
Maya began to cry and covered her mouth to keep from making too much sound. Ratt, showing unusual bravery, went to her and turned her away from the ghastly scene, allowing her to cry into his shoulder.
Lucy knew what this was. She had been here, long ago.
"The bastard," she hissed. Lowering her pistol, she stepped forward into the cube. The quasi-woman twisted grotesquely, raising her hollow eyes and stump-like arms and moaned again, begging for mercy. "I'm so sorry," Lucy said and with a swift sweep of her Macuahuitl, ended the woman's miserable existence. "Come, this is nearly over," Lucy said and led the others to the base of the stairs.
Vowing to come back down and check behind every panel once their mission was accomplished and Maya was safe, Lucy slowly ascended the stairs. The landing opened up into a large room, nearly equal to the outside dimensions of the pagoda, but which also wrapped around behind them slightly, where in the center of the wall another sliding panel beckoned. As in the hall below, lights awakened and softly lit the room. They were not alone.
"Welcome to my humble abode," Warbak called from his throne on the far side of the room. "I've been watching your approach for some time. Good lord, but you are slow. Would you have gotten here faster if I told you after your arrival that I wouldn't attack you until you got here? Do you have any idea how bored I grew watching you tiptoe through the forest? Ah, but that always was your style, wasn't it, my dear? As silent and deadly as a jaguar. Oh, how I've missed you."
"Ratt?" Lucy whispered, ignoring Warbak for the moment. As the lights in the room grew, the shadows along the room's perimeter took form. Two rows of black chrome devils stood guard the length of the chamber, from stairwell to throne.
Spartans.
"The signal is being broadcast from behind us," Ratt said shakily, his knuckles white as he attempted to unconsciously squeeze his N-Tab to death.
"Go with him, my Lady. I will hold them off," Lucy ordered without looking back. She waited to hear Ratt and Maya scurry off, Maya leaving her with a "Be careful, Feroz Pantera," and then took two steps into the room, raising her melee weapons into a chambered, ready-to-strike position. Her tail began to slowly sway back and forth, like a cat preparing to pounce. "Come on then. If you missed me so much, let's get reacquainted."
Warbak smirked. "Haven't you heard? You're old news, Lucy. You've been replaced. Improved upon." Warbak raised a hand and gestured broadly at the unmoving Spartans. All at once, a red glow appeared in every one of the demon-skulls’ eye sockets. "I'm going to enjoy watching my new toys tear apart my old one."
Lucy replied with her pistol, surprising Warbak with her speed and hitting him right between th
e eyes. The back of the throne exploded and showered the far side of the room with dust and chunks of marble. The Spartans leaped to life, sharpened claws and forearm lasers raised. Lucy jumped to meet them, but not before noticing that Warbak was gone. Gone like a ghost, as if he were never there in the first place. A hologram? But then—
Why, I'm waiting in here for the nerd and the little dancing girl, of course, Warbak said to Lucy telepathically and then laughed. Lucy cast a quick glance back at the sliding door. It was closed, with Maya and Ratt on the other side.
"No!" she screamed as the Spartans closed in around her.
By the time Taylor reached the ramp and rushed onto the southern highway, the Shanty was in full pandemonium. Rebel fire from all over the slum was shooting down Hoppers even as Hoppers were firing missiles into the city. Based on his experience, the field looked to be about even.
He ran up the ramp and then across the highway, shooting off a rocket here and there when he saw the flash or line of tracers erupt from a building below. He never missed a shot, and nothing the rebels had could begin to touch him. If only the rest of my company were still kickin', we'd squash this uprising like stepping on a June bug with a jackboot. Liking where he was currently at, three-quarters from the ramp to the Zigg, Taylor ceased running and walked his Mech to the edge of the highway. He looked down upon the Shanty with a sneer on his lips.
"Miserable pukes," he said and began to rain down a hail of .50 cal bullets. Houses and stationary vehicles disintegrated under the punishment. There was no place for a terrorist to hide.
Suddenly an explosion flashed from over by the Ziggurat. Shit, that's right, Taylor scolded himself. So overjoyed at finally being able to do to the Shanty what he’d always wanted to do to the Shanty, he had forgotten about the fly he was supposed to swat.
"For glory and State," Taylor said sarcastically. He didn't imagine it would matter much if the last sphere was broken or not. Most of the souls were already free, and the Harvesters sure as shit weren't coming to collect.
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