Chapter 2

Blood

I sat alone in my personal armory, though it was little more than a repurposed closet in my dorm room barely ten feet deep and six wide.

I slid a hand over my bolter smiling as I felt the smooth metal nip coldly at my skin. The end of its barrel was black from use and no matter how many times I took the weapon apart, performing its daily maintenance and cleaning, it always smelled of gunpowder. I could not bring myself to dislike the smell, our old Quartermaster had always demanded our war gear be in pristine condition, but I liked a little wear and tear on my weapons and armor. I could name each scratch and nick. I could remember the time and place a new blemish made itself know on my bolter. I'd never named my bolter, there seemed no point.

My hands stopped. The bolter was a weapon therefore it needed no name other than a word to describe its function, much like me. I was a weapon, but I was a weapon with a name. I recalled how my brothers and I had numbers, not names, before the 8th Nova clash. One through one hundred, one hundred Astarte's each with their own number. We had all been born within days of each other according to our instructors, I was among the last, yet we were all so different. Except for the Commander, he had been alive long before us, fighting the Nova in the 7th clash.

For twenty years we'd trained and fought wars together with the Commander under the orders of our instructors, and for twenty years my brothers died off. They were weak our instructors told us, the Commander saying they died so we could live and learn from their deaths. By the time the 8th clash came only nine of the original hundred lived, I included. I was still just Marine 4 then. The Commander "could not have been more proud that you all made it so far" he said.

I shook my head to clear it,

A weapon does not question, think, or feel, The Commander's voice echoed, you are a weapon. I am a weapon. I stared at my bolter hollowly now, no longer smiling. The Commanders words had become less of an order now and more of a comfort. I was a weapon, a tool of destruction meant only to be used by others and nothing more, but Dr. Aoi had taken it upon himself to name me.

When I returned from the battle and gave my report to the Pandra heads they dismissed me without orders. They'd simply forgotten. I wandered the facility aimlessly, no one stopping me, until Dr. Aoi found me. He talked to me about Kazuha, and said how she thought it seemed wrong not to give us, the Astartes, names. So he named me, a weapon, Wren. I could not fathom his logic.

There was a knock at the door to my room,

"Enter." I called out. Replacing my bolter on its stand I stood up and exited the closet, gently shutting the door. The front door opened and Chiffon stepped in accompanied by a girl with long brown hair and wearing what must have been a uniform at some point. Her shirt stopped just below her breasts, exposing the majority of her midriff and a pair of alarmingly tight shorts that barely covered her crotch and rear. I thought these were soldiers, not cheerleaders,

"Wren-kun," She said stiffly, "I am here to retrieve you for a combat exercise to evaluate your skill. The headmistress asked to add you to the ranking system and be treated as a Pandora."

"It's about time," I growled, ignoring the honorific, "Who am I matched against?"

"Her," She said, gesturing to the girl, "This is Trish McKenzie. Unfortunately there was a bit of an incident last night involving Satellizer and one of our juniors who was originally meant to fight you, Ingrid, but she is currently in rehab. So Trish volunteered to test you." I grunted disapprovingly,

"Will I be required to wear a swimsuit?" Chiffon frowned,

"No, why?" I shook my head,

"Nothing," I turned to Tris, "When do you wish to fight?" Tris laughed boisterously, breasts bouncing wildly,

"How does now sound," She grinned cocking an eyebrow, "or do you need time to work up the courage to fight a Pandora?" I twitched,

"You seem to be very proud of your body." I scoffed, "I wonder how well it breaks?" The girl bristled, fists clenching,

"The hell did you say to me?!" She yelled, taking a step closer. Chiffon pushed her way between us,

"Alright hold on! This is just a friendly duel, not a challenge!" Chiffon glared at me, "Now if you two could calm down we could do start this like human beings."

"A friendly duel between human beings," I scoffed walking to my closet, "Speak for yourself." I walked in, followed by Tris and Chiffon. I activated my power armor's activation switch, popping its front open, "I am not so weak to be called such." Pressing myself into the armor it snapped close behind me, hissing as the suit pressurized, "Nor am I so naïve to think duels friendly." I donned my helmet and checked the suit's systems, "Now let us fight."

They took me for a short walk across the academy which is when I realized it may have been a mistake to don my armor and weapons before reaching the arena. I walked behind Tris and Chiffon towering above them in my armor. My bolter was magnetically bound to the small of my back, chainsword at my hip, and bolt pistol just below the sword. It looked like they were parading me about as if I was some sort of escort. Pandoras and Limiters stared, whispering to one another though I could hear them clear as day,

"Isn't that the last surviving Astarte?"

"I thought they'd all died?"

"He was saved by the Hero of the 8th Clash right?"

"Weren't they close?"

"Is he a new Limiter?"

"What's his name?"

"Does he even have a name?"

"He'll die like the rest."

I muted my speakers, tossing their words to the back of mind to fuel the fury for the coming battle, a growing crowd followed behind us as we walked. Chiffon and Tris were speaking to each other, I could care less. They lead me inside a large building and down several hallways to a pair of blast doors. Chiffon turned to me and I unmuted my speakers,

"This is where you'll fight," She gestured to the doors, "Victory will be decided by KO or surrender, paramedics are already on the scene in case of severe injury." Tris nodded, looking up at me,

"Why do you need that armor? Scared I might give you an ouchie?" She cawed, stepping up to the blast doors as they slid open to reveal a massive empty room. Glass windows ran along the tops of the walls, I could see hundreds of faces looking down into the area. I quieted my thoughts, exhaling slowly. Chiffon's mouth moved. I disregarded her, stepping through the doors. The ground shaking as they closed behind me.

You are a weapon. I am a weapon. You do not think, you do not feel. I exhaled again, focusing my eyes on Tris.

Her mouth worked though I could not hear her words, they did not matter. Two long swords materialized in both of her hands, a dual wielder. I detached my chainsword, slowing my breath, body relaxing. I balanced on the balls of my feet, sword arm out, grip firm but loose. She was already in her battle stance, but still talking.

I could tell she was left-handed and right footed. Her eyes looked glued, unblinking, to my facemask, a straight forward type of fighter that charged headfirst at the enemy. She was confident, her weapons hung loosely at her sides, her hold on the swords relaxed, she expected to make the first attack. Her muscles were well-toned, strong but not oversized she was flexible and had the strength to hurt. But could she take it? I couldn't spot any injuries or scars on her skin, most of which was already exposed. I'd heard of medical science in the academy being so advanced it could regenerate tissue without leaving scars but I wasn't entirely sure of its validity. She was extremely confident, cocky almost. I could guess she had not yet taken any serious wounds, or even seen real battle for that matter. The distance between us looked to be fifteen to sixteen feet give or take a few inches either way. She knew how to handle those swords, I could tell, but how well?

She did not have any glaring weaknesses, nor did she seem weak, but all enemies could be defeated if you hit them right, it was time to stop observing.

That was the first two seconds.

I bunched my muscles together for an instant, leaping at her with as must power as I could muster closing the distance between us in an instant. I'd caught her mid-sentence by her surprised look.

I brought my chainsword around, Tris twisting towards me and under the swing, her counter already coming. Thinking to take advantage of my large size she leaned close as she directed a jab at the joint just above my right thigh. I let momentum carry me, turning, and her blade skidded off the back of my thigh. I kicked off with my right leg, planting my left, and holding my right parallel to the floor. I watched as I came around, leg slamming into Tris's side. She guffawed loudly, expression warped by agonized surprised, I could hear the musical cracking of bone. She flew through the air, crashing into the wall in a large crater.

Her head lolled to the side, blood gushing from a head wound, hair turning bright red from the blood. She sat there a second before her eyes shot open, looking up. The terror that reflected in her eyes from what she saw filled me with a dark pleasure that made my heart race and skin prickle. I had not watched her sit dazed and unconscious in that crater. I did not stand idly by to marvel at the results of my athleticism dumbly believing I was victorious due to a single well-placed blow, I pressed the advantage.

In an eye-blink I dashed after her, squeezing the trigger of my chainsword it came to life, ready for its first meal in years. Her lips peeled apart to scream as I impaled her with the sword and it roared with vicious glee, veraciously tearing into her soft flesh for the blood and gore it had been kept from for so long. It had grown tired the black and disgusting oil I used to clean it and the tasteless gasoline upon which it required to fight in battle as it did. It had gone too long without the sweet taste of fresh blood or bathed in its forbidden warmth. I could feel the elation of the sword through my hand, relishing in its ecstasy as if I myself was lodged in her torso devouring her greedily. I pushed the weapon deeper and deeper letting my prey's screams and lifeblood wash over me like a hot misty shower.

I yanked the sword from her, nearly tearing her in half, so little flesh remained to hold her together. I raised the chainsword into the air still revving at full power, spraying blood and gore across my armor and onto the wall. An animal roared its victory at the spectators, as if daring them to challenge it. The Animal had longed so long for battle. It had been caged away in Pandra for too long, learning of pointless banter and fighting worthless machines for play, took keep it entertained. Too long had it gone without, the Animal yearned for true, frantic death.

"STOP THE FIGHT!"

I awoke covered the blood of a Pandora, others flooding in through the blast doors with their weapons drawn. My sword falling silent as it returned to its place at my side. I looked down at Tris. Her midriff was no longer a soft and seductive icon that the opposite sex yearned for. It had become a grisly example of my skill. Shredded organs hung down from the hole with blood still pouring forth. Tris herself had fallen silent from the shock, mouth gaping wide leaking blood and her eyes glazed over. The ends of my mouth curved into a smile that bared my teeth at the girl. Pandoras rushed past me, crying out, some pointed weapons at me, others watched from above in horror.

I could only feel the exhilaration of a kill.