I own nothing. Thank you all for the reviews. I plan on finishing this story in the next two or three chapters. Be forewarned, the later chapters may include a very explicit lemon (sex scene)

Home of Darius Mason,
Bastion, Mars

It was almost noon when Darius finally woke up the next day. He spent the first few hours of the day nursing a fortunately mild hangover and getting himself cleaned up, shaved and looking like less of a drunk. Once he was done and had eaten a fairly small breakfast, he threw on a clean black tank top and brown cargo pants then stepped outside onto the streets of Bastion. The citizenry had calmed down significantly from last night and were mostly at home, sleeping off massive hangovers or just recovering from their exhausting experience over the past days. Because of the lack of traffic to slow him, Darius made it to the small armory in Bastion fairly quickly. Frank was already there, wearing a lightened version of the standard Red Faction kit. It got hot as hell deep underground where the Plague eggs had been left so Frank was wearing a simple tank top under his body armor.
"Morning."
Darius grunted as he walked past him, stopping at a locker with Mason, D. printed on its front.
"Morning,"
Frank returned, slinging his rifle across his back and stuffing spare magazines into his the pouches across his armor breastplate. Darius threw on a similair breastplate to Frank's as well as some armored shinguards that linked onto his boots. He strapped an ammunition bandoleer around his waist and filled every pouch on both it and his armor with extended magazines for his rifle. One of the things he'd learned during a particularly bad fight in Marauder territory was that the Plague's creatures required a lot of ammo to bring down. His rifle's barrels were red hot by the time he'd finished that fight and he'd had to take ammo off Marauder corpses several times. The constant magazine changes caused by pouring rounds onto numerous targets were what did in a lot of soldiers. The Plague would send its weaker members ahead as cannon fodder then attack more viciously once the Red Faction or Marauders' ammo was depleted and they had to change magazines.

Slinging his own rifle across his back like Frank's, Darius began digging deeper into his locker, brushing equipment aside until he found a small black case. He pulled it out and flipped open the lid, looking down at the old EDF Pistol inside. It was a beautiful weapon and was in great condition, especially considering its age. Kara had given it to him for his last birthday. Trying not to think too much about those memories, he slid the pistol into its holster on his thigh and took three full magazines for it, the added weight barely noticeable. At last, he stuffed a few energy bars into his pockets, strapped a medical kit onto his hip and attached a large water bladder to the back of his armor. Dehydration and heat exhaustion could kill a soldier just the same as a bullet to the head or claw to the throat, the only difference was the time it took and what could prevent it. He'd learned a lot during his engagements with the Plague.

Closing his locker with a slight sigh, Darius turned to Frank and shrugged,
"Let's go."
he said. Frank simply nodded in reply and lead the way out the back door of the armory. An APC and a squad of eight other Red Faction soldiers awaited them. Surprisingly, none of them talked to Darius or otherwise bothered him as he clambered in and sat down. Perhaps it was the look in his eyes, tired and impatient. Perhaps it was understanding. Many of the soldiers had lost loved ones to The Plague and still weren't ready to talk about it. Hopefully, this final cleansing of the Temple would give them an outlet for their pent up rage and grief.

As the door sealed shut, Darius leaned back and closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep. It would be a long ride after all...