Too much inspiration to not do this! Follows "A Meeting of Heroes." Compared to that, became longer and somewhat more serious / darker in tone. Naming each chapter after a (metal) song became an essential part of the writing process and helped to define the atmosphere in each, though sometimes trying to choose just the right song stalled the writing severely!
Thanks to:
- AgentUrsa for the Agents of Metal category, original inspiration and being an FF writing buddy!
- The two who I overheard discussing very passionately a certain type of character, and the idea got copied in here!
- Manowar, Iron Savior, Avantasia, Judas Priest, Nargaroth, Burzum, Battle Beast, Bruce Dickinson, Sabaton, Metallica, Hammerfall, Gamma Ray, Iron Maiden, Reverend Bizarre (+ Ghost for the alternative song for ch. 31) and DragonForce for the chapter title songs!
Enjoy!
-ArmageddonClan
...
Chapter 1 – Heart of Steel
Kim heard the rumble of the motorcycle engine as it started. It was odd how things had to repeat in life. Of course Erik had to have a motorcycle too, like Viktor before.
She could have been riding it as well. To some unknown but possibly satisfying destination. But no. Her insecurity and misanthropy had been in the way.
Lately she had had this paranoia that she was being compared unfavourably, that unfair expectations were being placed on her. From this thought she always flashed back to the trip from the cargo train yard, to the short stay at a cheap inn, which they had used to get their bearings after the immediate aftermath of the soul infection incident.
Her mind probably exaggerated it, but what she most remembered was the redhead, Jo, resting against the guy – who Kim remembered as the programmer, though he actually wasn't – looking far too happy and content and in love. These were supposed to be hardened ex-Agents like Erik, but apparently looks could be extremely deceiving. The paranoia was that Kim was expected to become the same, though she never could.
And the worst part was, that this was all in her mind. If Kim actually thought of how Erik behaved, there was little factual evidence to actually support these fears. Rather, Erik was just as stoic and silent as ever, and in actuality was fine with Kim being just the way she was. But the mind made it real. Kim assumed that whether real or imagined, the paranoia was eventually going to sour whatever was between them, and to prevent damage she purposefully acted as blank as possible, and mostly refused to give any sort of affirmation beyond the physical. Erik was patient, but his patience couldn't be infinite.
The sound of the engine lowered, as the clutch disengaged and the wheels started to roll, then the sound began to fade away.
Kim looked at her reflection in the mirror of her small and primitive flat. She thought to have aged visibly by the incident. It was no surprise, really. If she remembered right, she had been killed, her soul removed and digitally purified. After coming back to life, she had activated a reactor acting as a teleport, which had transported her and the Renditioner (housing both Erik's and Viktor's souls) into another dimension. Then, after events she couldn't clearly remember, but which possibly involved combat, she had returned.
From the fragmented memories, comparing notes with Erik, and most importantly because the unnatural events had stopped, they had to have succeeded in whatever they had done. So like the two who liked to cuddle far too much, they had to be heroes. But Kim couldn't bring herself to enjoy the victory.
On the positive side, Kim thought that this was not yet the point of no return. Just another wasted chance. There was going to be another, if she just got over herself.
She looked at the bass guitar standing in the corner of the room. Right now it represented everything that was disgusting and wrong with the world, and she did not want to touch it, though it was still early evening and playing it would not have brought complaints from the neighbors. Rather, she was probably going to go for a masochist-level run to empty her mind completely.
...
The camouflaged all-terrain vehicles advanced through the forest at almost dead slow speed. The target would soon be in visual range. It had taken months of following obscure leads to discover its location, but at last it had been confirmed. According to the intel, there would not be any sophisticated countermeasures or detection mechanisms; it was just as any low-level survivalists' and gun nuts' compound. But the task force wasn't taking any chances; their own scanners were running at full power, scanning the whole EM frequency spectrum for any abnormalities, in addition to radars and radiation detectors.
In case the occupants would be alerted, and managed to activate the craft and use its weapons, the situation could turn to bad quickly, though. Each of the vehicles had been fitted with a powerful electromagnetic pulse device that should be able to render it inactive, but that was just according to theory from the Air Force technicians. Of course launching the EMP would disable everything electronic within the radius, but they still had their men and conventional weapons.
The options for this raid had been considered carefully. A direct insertion by helicopter would have been possible, but the noise would have certainly alerted those inside. Soon, it was time to exit the vehicles and proceed the rest of the way by foot.
In ultimate charge of this operation was the MSA – Majestic Security Agency. It started where other agencies stopped, handling extraterrestrial and dimensional threats, and the recovery of evidence related to those.
Its special agent Sebastian Hall, medium built and with dark hair just over the length of the agency's standards (tolerated because of his performance) sat in the second vehicle, wearing a headset and eyes fixed on the military-grade laptop from which he could see a real-time display of the mission zone.
The last couple of nights leading to the operation had allowed little sleep; Sebastian knew he was practically running on coffee and adrenaline.
Hopefully, soon it would be all over. He wasn't in charge of the actual military side of the operation though – for that there was Major Gunther Jäger. He was a bull of a man, nearly two metres tall, and Sebastian did not exactly feel comfortable around him.
MSA had lately failed – by acting too little and too late – in two major incidents, which had not done good to its reputation. In fact, its whole necessity was being questioned, or the possibility of there being moles or traitors inside it. Both incidents had appeared to resolve themselves, but there had been unknown actors in play. The most visible clue was the unauthorized sky broadcast in December 2012, proclaiming the "Agents" victory over "SCEPTRE", but this could have been misdirection. At that point the issues at hand had not been deemed MSA's territory, so they had a late start. And so at least six months had been wasted after requesting the necessary information from the other three-letter agencies.
Sebastian had prided himself on always doing the best he could during the eight years he had served inside the organization. He wasn't aware of any corruption. But it was possible he had not looked hard enough.
He knew those inside the compound would not suffer a pleasant fate. It would be better for them - of course worse for the operation - to in fact die in the raid. The use of enhanced methods of the highest degree would be a given, to discover the identities of anyone else involved in the theft of the craft, and to determine if it was in any way related to the incidents. A complete success in this regard was the least MSA could do to repair its stature. To tie any loose ends.
...
Four hours earlier
As the evening skies grew darker, only the chill of the wind, the endless road stretching before him, and the rumble of the powerful engine beneath brought comfort to Erik.
He cursed himself, for getting too much ahead of things in his mind. He thought to have been patient, but apparently he was still pushing too much. For instance, suggesting the duo doom metal project had not gone over well.
Fuck. Erik just could not understand.
On a whim, he decided to head to the place he had not visited in months. The forest compound. If nothing had changed, Torzu and Gorehound from the disbanded Shadow Unit still lived there. Those he could always rely on, and commiserate with.
It was also a chance to see the well-concealed Identified Alien Craft again, though he probably wasn't going to fly it anymore.
