Forgive this trash chapter. I rarely write any sort of action, so I'm trying to reach out here and there to get better. So apologies for this rough attempt.


They were stationed at a watchpoint built into the cliff face. It was a rickety structure, consisting of an open-air tower and a rope bridge connecting a mud hut that housed communications. One misstep and it was a long way down to the ground.

Rider was resting on his knees, peering through one of the holes drilled into the tower's metal barricade. They were miles above a rainforest's canopy. He shivered, recalling how he, and the two other Riders assigned with him, had to trudge through noxious sludge to reach their station. Hacking through and sneaking around packs of rabid carnivores lurking in the shadows, both animal and plant matter.

The whole planet might as well have been nothing but bones and flesh, to at least match the horrors living on it.

He could say the precarious assignment was worth it however, if he could manage to get a decent look at the planet's horizon. He usually found that even the most unpleasant of missions become bearable once he caught sight of how the sun(s) painted colorful hues into the waking sky. But the putrid, moist miasma produced by the resident flora made even that a chore.

Rider sighed and clipped the cartridge out of his sniper, plucking out the top bullet. He turned it around in his hands, honey light from the hanging lamps glistening off its bronze surface. He mainly lived out in the void of space, so he relied heavily on an automatic laser handgun. Orbs of concentrated plasma tended to be more efficient in Zero-G than metal bullets.

It was rare for him to use ground forces issued guns, few of the planets he's been sent to had the gravitational pull appropriate for such weapons. It didn't matter though, he was still trained rigorously in handling his planet's vast arsenal. Anything that can kill, he's adept in.

"Quite a shock in weight, huh?" One of his companions ducked low and crawled to sit beside him. An Attack model, serial number 758-2. One that traveled around the system, judging by the thick accent. "Makes you a lot more aware of what you doin'."

"That manner of speech is unconventional. Correct your vocal system before I have to report to Med." And by protocol, he did have to.

Thankfully, 758-2A knew that too and fixed his voice with an overly dramatic cough that made Rider roll his eyes.

"Operator 593 is busy clearing the chatter from the computer, so it'll be a bit before we can receive any new orders." 758-2A cocks his head to the side with a thoughtful look, "We also won't be able to hear any emergency broadcasts that might try to connect in the meantime too."

Rider could hear the underlying worry in his companion's words. He slipped the bullet back into the cartridge and reloaded his sniper. He rested a hand on 758-2A's knee. He couldn't offer assurance that nothing was going to happen, but he did want the younger Rider to know that he did have his back.

758-2A understood the gesture and smiled at Rider.

"Thanks," He said.

Rider heard a cuss coming from the hut and the Rider inside scuffling. Concerned, he and 758-2A quickly pushed themselves up to run to comms. Before they could, a disheveled 593-O leaned out the doorway.

"Something just knocked out our feed. Our whole damn network is nothing but white noise!"

Something inside the hut blared and 593-O threw his head back in.

"It's the radar. Someone tripped a motion sensor, they're climbing up here!"

"You figure it's them?" 758-2A cautiously poked his head over the barricade to glance down the cliff face.

Before either Rider or 593-O could respond, a gunshot grazed 758-2A's brow. Just barely saved from lodging into his head if Rider hadn't pulled him back down in time.

The bullet nicked one of the lamps before getting stuck in the roof. Rider acted quickly to reach up and take them down, throwing them over his shoulder to drop to the forest floor before a lucky shot could make the whole tower blow up.

"Darva, you okay?" 593-O was squatted down, using the door frame as cover.

"I'm fine," 758-2A responded, casting Rider a look of gratitude.

"Names are prohibited." Was all Rider had to say.

"I'm going to route the short-wave radio to ground command. We need clearance to engage." 593-O turned back into the hut.

"So, we're supposed to sit here with our thumbs up our ass?" Darva flattened himself against the metal barricade.

Another shot splintered the tower's wooden floor and again got stuck in the roof.

"Whoever's attacking is getting close fast." Rider reached up to his headpiece, toggling a switch.

His vision was briefly obstructed by sharp lines forming interlocking conclaves. The shapes solidified into a hardlight helmet projected around Rider's head. It tinted the sickly yellow world into a more tolerable hazy blue. It was still an annoying affect but Rider learned to deal with it.

A Rider could take a multitude of injuries, most that can destroy a living thing, so long as they weren't to the head. If a Rider lost an arm or leg, or even their eyes, it wasn't a hindrance. They could simply cannibalize the necessary parts from downed Riders. Or even from similar life forms. But they couldn't do anything about a busted head.

Rider stood up and set the barrel to aim down the curve of the mountain right below them.

He could see a shadowy mass inching its way up to them. He peered through the scope and scoffed at finding it only made the shape more difficult to discern.

"This is useless." He clipped the scope off, and instead relied on his superior vision as a scout based model.

"Easy 1-E," Darva fiddled with his wristband. Rider knew that it was a standard Attack model's shield projector and was glad to know that Darva was ready to protect him with it. "You're too valuable to die from getting cocky."

He couldn't afford to give a proper response, too focused on picking out the finer details of their assailant.

The attacker was eighty kilometers below them, having just crossed the lip of the curve. If Rider was to take a shot he better had to do it soon before it got too close to aim from the tower.

"Op! Do we have anything?" Darva shouted to 593-O in the hut.

The Operator shouted back, "Command is getting authority transferred over to them from Mothership. Give me literally just a minute!"

"One midosyte… Two midosyte…" Darva grumbled sarcastically under his breath.

The sun was peeking over the horizon, casting an obnoxious glare but Rider was grateful to be able to finally make out what it was that was climbing its way up towards them.

Rider's chest clenched at what he saw.

"It's one of them. Pesvion."

"Shit." Darva hissed before shouting the new information to 593-O.

Pesvion; one of the planet's native species that lived deep in the rainforest below. Intelligent enough to qualify for a civilization, but still dumb enough to have rejected a partnership with his homeworld.

The Riders were originally sent to the planet to negotiate with the Anthropod species, but upon arriving to find the species hiding away somewhere, they were ordered to spread out to different stations and scout for them.

Rider could see the Pesvion's mandibles clunking together, it's hairy body matted with dirt and sludge. All six of its legs skittered against the stone, only able to hold on by stabbing its claws into the mountain.

The Pesvion lifted its head up and saw that Rider was aiming down at it. He could faintly hear it screech, but it was mostly numbed down by the wind.

Rider felt pity as the Pesvion tried desperately to hurry its ascent. It took a chance and leaped upwards to skip a good chunk of distance before slamming back into the rock and repeating. It had no other choice, as Rider could see the bomb strapped on its back. Every other jump, it would reach a leg back to draw out a pistol and frantically shoot at Rider.

"It's a suicide bomber." He told Darva.

"Thirty-ni-Oh for fuck sake, really?" Darva threw his hands up, snapping them back down with a hiss as his right hand got shot.

Rider didn't move, letting the bullets either pierce into him or glance off the helmet.

"This is getting tiresome." He commented.

"Op! It's been a minute!" Darva shouted out just as 593-O leaned out the doorway.

"Orders are shoot to kill."

Rider brought the socket into his shoulder, and concentrated on the periodical swell of his trigger finger. The Pesvion managed to get within 120 yards below them.

An easy and relatively short shot.

Rider could see just how the bomb was implanted into the Pesvion's back. Spots of the protective layer of hair were shaved off, exposing a ring of green skin, puckered and infected around the wires jabbed deep into its back.

Poor thing had no choice but to try to kill them.

Rider timed the shot in-between his heartbeats, relishing in the recoil that left his usual handgun wanting.

The Pesvion apparently anticipated it as it leaped up from its spot. The bullet ricocheted off the stone into oblivion, sending up a shower of flint.

The Pesvion landed back down with another horrid screech. One that sliced through the air and made Rider's ears ring. He flinched and instinctively cupped his left ear with a hand.

He was quick to realize what a mistake that was, snapping his attention back to his target only to find that the Pesvion wasn't climbing up to them anymore.

"Look out!" Darva warned Rider, bringing up a shield to guard him.

The Pesvion had mustered up all its strength to make a tremendous push upwards to clear the gap between them. Rider could see that the sheer force of the jump wretched its back legs out of socket. It shot up past the Riders and a dozen feet into the air above them. It most likely aimed to land on the watch tower's roof.

Rider heard the tell-tale beeping of the bomb and dashed back onto the rope bridge to get a clear shot at the Pesvion falling belly first to the roof.

He kneeled, lined up the shot, and didn't even wait for his heart to finish a beat before firing. It made the recoil feel like someone took a hammer to his chest but he ignored it.

The shot sailed true and imbedded itself into the bomb.

The explosion rocked the station, and Rider and Darva sprinted across the bridge to comms as it took out a chunk of the tower. They slid inside just as the bridge burned away behind them.

Darva muttered a prayer of gratitude that the hut had a separate foundation. Rider propped his head against the wall and sighed out relieved.

593-O whistled at the spectacle, "That was pretty cool. Nice job, Setsuna." The Operator gave Rider a pat on the shoulder which he did not appreciate.

Rider and Darva glared at 593-O, sharing a thought.

'Operator models are useless.'