Chapter 21: The Angel of Death, Part II
"Men like you built the hydrogen bomb. Men like you thought it up. You think you're so creative. You don't know what it's like to create a life. All you know how to do is create destruction and death..." from the movie, "Terminator 2"
Morasi, Verusa
January 2, 2016
1800 hrs
Sasha Masson looked up at the sky as the massive craft began to pass. She looked with a curious eye at the Looking Glass, who for all intents and purposes still kept her hostage. To drive the point home, he dragged her back inside and closed the balcony door. Sasha then noticed that he'd barricaded the doors with the drawer.
"I've never seen anything like that in my life. How did they...?" Sasha wondered.
"Who knows? But if I were a gambling man, I'd put my money on whoever has to destroy that thing. Well, I'd better get going." said Tenenbaum...in a rather sarcastic notion. Sasha stopped him.
"Wait a damn minute! You come here, you kill everyone that's with me...and you tell me a bunch of stuff that I don't even know is true or not...and you expect me to believe just like that?" Sasha shouted at him.
Tenenbaum scoffed. "I thought you were a smart woman."
That got Sasha riled up even more.
"Be realistic! You show up spewing all this garbage and expect me to just get it now? What do you want me to do?! What do you want?! I'm being pulled in a million directions and I don't know what to do! Unlike you, a lot of us don't have the luxury of being able to cope with the wrong kind of truth in a little while!" said Sasha...in a mixture of near tears, anger, and confusion like no other.
The Looking Glass put a hand on her shoulder.
"I was like you once; confused, hurt...emotionally drained. I didn't know what to do. I was lost. Then I realized I had a choice to make. I could have stayed dead, but I didn't. I wanted to change the world. It was then I became something more than a man...I became a legend." he told Sasha. But Sasha wasn't buying it. She threw his hand off and pointed her index finger right at his face.
"You became nothing but a murderer and the kind of person who deserves the same fate that you claim my father and his men do!" shouted Sasha.
"...you're right. You're absolutely right. But it doesn't change what happened. Tell me Sasha...do you like the world you're in?" asked Tenenbaum approaching her.
"You want the truth?!" Sasha shouted at him, arms akimbo, "What's the point? When this war is over, this country will be nothing but a ruined shell of its former self...just like it was long ago. Osea and her allies will leave us to rot while they leave oil refineries to finance their own countries! My child would have nothing but hardships. Does that answer your question!?"
Sasha's heat began to radiate off her skin...but the Looking Glass wasn't even fazed by it.
"Interesting. You're not far off." said Tenenbaum. Carlo wasn't a fool. He knew exactly what Osea intended to do...and so did this twenty-something girl. Sasha looked incredulous.
"What? If...you know that's going to happen...then why do you fight? If the future in your mind is about the same...then why?! It's an exercise in complete insanity!" Sasha fired back.
Tenenbaum backhanded her and slammed her into the floor.
"If you don't want the world to be that way, then do something about it!" shouted the angry Tenenbaum. Sasha's eyes bulged and she bared invisible fangs.
"Fuck you! You're the one who speaks of change! Damn it, why don't you do something about it! Go then, and challenge my father if you wish! I won't stand in your way! But we can't all make the same choices! I'm not your kind of person!" Sasha shouted, with tears in her eyes. Tenenbaum pointed his silenced pistol right at her and then moved it right to her left eye.
Sasha, once again, felt like an insect to be stepped on by this man. She was shaking at this point.
"No. You're a coward, Sasha Masson. Hundreds of thousands of people had to die to be your father! So many people had to die for to you to even exist! You owe them your help as far as you're concerned!" said Tenenbaum.
But Sasha refused to believe it at this point. This man wasn't credible...sure the pieces fit to the puzzle, but the picture he was describing could have been totally different.
"You act as if you're life has made one bit of difference! Be honest...it hasn't! That's why you keep torturing me! You have no ideology outside revenge. Someone like you...all you know is death! If you truly want it...then go take it. I dare you." said Sasha, with every bit of poison in her voice.
It was then that the Looking Glass realized...that Sasha was right. In truth, his life had made very little difference in the grand scope of things. Sure he'd led the Resistance...but would that bring about change in the long run? No one had ever taken him to task on that statement...until now. But he couldn't admit that it was that fear that drove him. He'd attracted so many to his cause for revenge...but as the leader, his vision may have been warped by all the years of being a paid assassin; a cold blooded murder.
The Looking Glass had torn apart a lot of lives in twelve years in a lot of twisted, vicious ways. He was paid to kill a White Crow dissenter once...he murdered him in broad daylight right in front of his pregnant wife and little child. Just pointed a gun at his temple and blew his brains out all over the market in San Ava. He killed a man while he was at his son's birthday party. He threw a man off a twenty story building right on top of his new car. He slit a protesting man's throat right in front of his daughter.
He never killed innocent people. But all the blood and death he'd inflicted for the White Crow, only to be betrayed by them had removed any empathy Carlo had for its members. Yet in the face of this Sasha Masson, he relented and conceded a terrible truth buried under blood and money and revenge.
Finally, he put the pistol away and lifted her off the ground. He even started to straighten out her tussled hair, an act which Sasha thought was a bit creepy. He finally responded in a calm voice.
"I would...but I require your help." he said.
"What do you want me to do?! I want this war to end, but I can't trust you. I won't trust someone who kills for a living. I know someone who can give me a straight answer..." Sasha began.
"Who? Your uncle!? He's just as guilty as your father. He was in Orchid too. He did the same things I did, to an extent. We did the killing, people like your uncle had the receipts." interjected Carlo.
Sasha was confused and hurt now. She would not believe it. The things about her father she possibly could believe. But Graysel...there was no way he could have been involved. No way in hell was Dise Graysel, her mother's brother, involved with that horrible group of war criminals!
Could he have been though? That was what mystified her so much. It completely caught her off guard.
"I understand your distrust of me. But I do have something that will give you the sheer horrifying precision of what really went down years ago." said Tenenbaum, handing Sasha a small pink book.
"What is this?" Sasha said, flipping through the pages.
"This is a diary written by Portia some years ago. It was written during the construction of their so-called super weapon...the Tower. They did some terrible things during the construction I found it in the house of an associate of Portia...one who I killed. But don't feel bad for him...he deserved what he got."
Sasha nearly had a heart attack. He wasn't lying now; this was for real.
"This is Portia's writing...and all the drawings she'd do. She had a habit of just drawing on documents...but..." Sasha said eyes darting around. Suddenly, the Looking Glass handed her a cellular phone.
"Here...take this. If you wish to accept the truth, then call the number on the phone. When you call...ask for Windrom. You call for Windrom because there is no Windrom. You wait...I'll call you from a secure location..."
Suddenly, Tenenbaum was caught off guard when the door began to bang with the sounds of men outside. It was then that the Looking Glass had made a tactical error in not killing all the guards after all; or rather, making sure they were all dead. Sasha almost laughed. This so-called consummate assassin may have not been that good after all.
"Open it! Open it! She's still inside!" said one of the voices outside. It did not take a rocket scientist to figure this one out. The guards had caught up to the Looking Glass. The door banged as they tried to force their way through the barricaded door.
"Looks like you got a bit sloppy..." said Sasha, with a smile. The Looking Glass merely scoffed.
"They've got nothing. They can't kill what they can't catch!" he said.
Tenenbaum pushed Sasha to the floor and ran to the window. Sasha had noticed the rope around his waist and his shoulder. She had deduced he intended to jump off the roof and repel down to escape...or something of that sorts. He quickly secured the rope and Sasha, not even bothering to even follow him, clutched the book she held.
"By the way Sasha...you've got a terrible taste in music!" said Tenenbaum, jumping off the balcony. Sasha replied in kind with a middle finger and a sneering look.
By the time the strangely black uniformed guards burst through the room, the Looking Glass was all the way to the bottom and running away. The lead soldier banged his fist against the wall.
"Damn! He got away!" the man shouted.
"Are you alright, miss?" said one of the guards, helping her off the floor. He looked kind of young for a soldier.
"Yes...I'm fine." replied Sasha.
"Let's get her out of here. The boss isn't going to like this. She's going to be pissed." said one of the other guards.
"Huh?" Sasha asked. Sasha was confounded. Who the hell was…she?
"This is Unit 3, Unit 5 is down, I want a full lock down of the city. No one gets in or out without our say so." said the black uniformed officer.
Of course, neither Sasha nor the Looking Glass knew that William Masson was dead. Sasha clenched the diary to her and then put it in to her bag as she was hurried out of the hotel room. Once she emerged into the hallway and the adjacent areas, she saw the blood and corpses of the entire security team scattered over the entire floor. How he did kill them while she slept was a total mystery to Sasha. But at this point she didn't care. She was still alive. She only hoped Ammon was still alive. But there bigger things afoot than the fate of Ammon Kaida...
Over Disra
January 2, 2016
1802 hrs
Before David Lovecraft took up the mantle of Blaze years ago, one question he always had was this: Could the sky shake? Blaze found that out the hard way years ago. But now he had felt it again. Then again, perhaps it was the shaking in his soul. It wasn't fear, but uncertainty...or was it really fear?
"All units, we have an incoming message from command." said Scion, the AWACS.
Much to the chagrin of the Razgriz couple: it was the voice of Lucien Jackson.
To all allied units, listen to me now. We are facing an attack by a extremely large aerial battleship. Combat capabilities unknown. Your orders are simple: engage and shoot down this aerial titan before it touches the city of Disra...without fail.
Now David was fully convinced that Lucien had some stake in this. Lucien Jackson was a CIA guy who worked behind the scenes. He was not a direct, face to face guy. So why was he giving a direct order now? Did he really have the authority to make such an order? But David and Kei both knew better. It all became clear now. Jackson really was just Cohen's personal capo.
Jackson was an extremely powerful government man and reported to no one but President Mary Cohen. Needless to say, Lucien Jackson may have been pulling the strings behind the entire war all along. General Howell was probably was never in charge and every decision could have been made by him. That would explain why the Southern Alliance suddenly had such high powered weaponry.
That would also, and more importantly, explain the sudden move to Disra rather than securing Valuria. It just seemed like something Lucien Jackson would do. Forty thousand dead civilians in Valuria and Jackson wanted to take Disra...and just like that, it happened! David and Kei may have been hoodwinked once before by this man...but now he was just simply insulting their intelligence. He wasn't even being discreet anymore. Now it was clear this war had turned from one of necessity to one of convenience. All they had to do was destroy Dispater and that would be, as they say, all she wrote.
But that wasn't important now. There was some massive weapon bearing down on the squadron and the city.
"Aerial battleship? What the heck is that?" Fisch asked.
"I guess they don't want us to have Cylaron's investment." Kei said.
"Whatever. Let's just blow this thing and go home!" said Polly.
It took a few tense minutes for anything to show up on the radar. It was a deathly silence as the unknown lay out there in the darkening sky. David looked at the horizon, having attempted to make a mental image of what he was expected to see. All of the sudden, David thought that this was like the part in a movie where the drums start beating and the music becomes freaky and creepy as the "known unknown" approached them ever so steadily.
"The craft will be within range of attack in three minutes." said the AWACS.
It was long few minutes for Hans Grimm. If David had a picture of what this thing was, then Grimm had none. All this time, he thought only about avenging his would-be wife losing her legs by that damnable electrical monstrosity; one that still at large. But no fear came over him. Only anger came over his soul. It was bad enough that incredible weapon was still out there, but suddenly...they had another! It was complete madness.
Suddenly, Grimm could only see the silhouette of what looked like a massive red colored triangular razor in the sky. Grimm couldn't believe the size of this thing. It looked like a massive imitation of the Arkbird...and its length was only less than half a mile. This was no Arkbird...that was for sure.
"What is that?" asked Grimm, almost in total shock.
David wondered the same thing. But as David laid eyes upon the massive craft, suddenly...he could see lights from the front of the aircraft. David did not need to be told what this was. He'd seen this once before on the Arkbird. He would not be caught by surprise again.
"Get out of the middle! Spread it out! Spread it out!" David shouted.
No one in Wardog needed to be told twice, especially Kei Nagase and Hans Grimm. One just didn't question Blaze's flight IQ. That just wasn't done. He said something and they did it because they knew what the hell he was doing. And Wardog had the mutual respect for each other and as such followed suit because they all knew that David knew what he was doing...as he trusted them.
Upon David's realization that whatever that light was indicated trouble, everyone began to maneuver to the left and the right on their own. The other Allied pilots in the air were a bit dumbfounded by this maneuvering, but they realized if the experts were doing it...why wouldn't they be doing it? More importantly, why were they not doing it already?
Just as David expected there to be...this light was trouble. And almost seconds after he'd called it, the light became a beam of blue laser death. It was out of character for the Versuans, of course. Usually, they expected purple blasts of death. But this was something way too familiar to David, Kei and Grimm. Grimm was the first to have a connecting of the dots...of sorts; it almost looked exactly like the laser from the Arkbird six years ago!
"What the hell was that?!" Polly shouted.
"Never mind that, there's more coming in!" shouted Andrew.
A group of short firing lasers repeated the same thing as everyone began to maneuver to avoid them. The Allies behind them were not all lucky to avoid them. Some were lost; vaporized by blue lasers of death. Lillian tried to disbelieve this. It all seemed so wrong now. First electrical blasts, then scattering missiles, now lasers! What else could go wrong?
"The unidentified craft has slightly increased its speed," said the AWACS, "They're firing those lasers from five points. 350, 360, 010, 020 and 030."
That told David everything he needed to know about this craft. Whatever the hell it was, it was firing lasers in a rather narrow area.
"Let's give it a wide berth to the left and the right. Stay out of the center." said Cormorance.
Suddenly, the radar lit up with all kinds of planes flanking the gigantic...object. Suddenly, it came into view and what a view it was. There was nothing beautiful about it. Kei knew that all too well. This battleship, whatever the hell it was, looked like something that was designed to inflict all kinds of hellish havoc. This wasn't like the Arkbird and its deceptive beauty. This thing was a blood-colored razor-sharp killing machine...and they hadn't even come in full contact with it.
It was hard to describe it. It was almost flat, but long with wings that looked similar to that of a Mig-29s's wings. Yet the body folded in like a B-2 bomber. It had tail fins like an F-15 would, but they were narrow and long. All along the top of it was a series of "razor"-like pieces. It wasn't particularly wide, but it wasn't particular small either. This was a big ship...and was already very menacing.
"Holy God." David heard one of the Allied pilots say on the radio.
"How the hell do we shoot this thing down?" asked another of the pilots.
The man formerly known as Blaze was staring down the barrels of some massive airship bearing down on the Allied formation. The woman formerly known as Edge saw the same thing. They both nodded to each other and they both thought the same thing.
How the hell are we going to get out of this one?
But the deer-in-the-headlights approach wasn't going to work. So they decided to figure out what to do having dealt with these craft before. Though Cormorance was the lead, he had never seen anything of this caliber before. But Blaze and Edge couldn't say too much lest they reveal who they really were...
"Artemis, if you and someone else help keep the fighters off us, we can figure out a way to destroy this thing." said Blaze. After some time...
"...okay. Preston, me and you! Let's go get these bastards!" said Alou. Why Alou picked Grimm was beyond David's thinking...but he had no time to think about that. As Grimm flew away, the only question was...now what?
If those were lasers...then they had to be eliminated first. But David knew that the enemy probably doubled up on everything. So he thought that there may be two sets of lasers; one on the top and one on the bottom. Not to mention the ones in front. Then there were the AA defenses, engines...then the bridge itself. But bringing this thing down was going to be no simple challenge. It was a much different animal than the Arkbird...but a similar type of thought was needed in order to bring this thing down. He took a quick reminder of the types of planes everyone had.
But suddenly, everyone had to maneuver because of the enemy planes approaching them. David and the others had to get separation fast. They were going to need their entire ordinance to bring this thing down...and they needed some help to do it.
"Okay, here's the deal. Ava, you and Lillian destroy the lasers. Andrew, you and Polly try to nail the engines if you can."
Lillian spotted all the flak clouds above and below the razor like ship. She was taken aback at the sheer size of this thing. She also knew that her plane was not equipped for this kind of warfare...especially with flak guns this close to the action.
"How are we going to get through the flak!?" Lillian asked desperately.
"I got an idea...Jonathan, you have bombs right...why don't you use them! Drop them along the top of the ship to knock out their AA fire." said Cormorance.
David shook his head. He already had that plan thought out. Though he had to give Alou credit; for all his "ulterior motives"…he was a smart man.
"It's not much of a plan...but we'll have to try it. Good God, this is insanity in a can." said Grimm.
"And I don't think it's going to work twice either..." added Kei, nervously.
And they'd yet to see the true power of the craft...
Aboard the Azazael
January 2, 2016
1802 hrs
Zerran Makin was stunned at his work. For years, he'd worked on perfecting the power of the Dispater. With the help Doctor Zorba, he'd constructed and designed the super-tower of the Dispater. The Dispater was divided into two parts, the superstructure and the Tower itself. The tower was the size of a skyscraper that was protected by the circular superstructure containing the massive amount of radar dishes, SAMs, anti air guns, transmission towers, electrical centers, and power plants. Inside the Dispater was the daisy chained..."RAID-like" module; a massive X-9A core made up of sixteen individual modules that combined could increase the Dispater's power on an exponential basis.
It was the most brilliant weapon ever conceived. Despite his reservations about Percival and Zorba, Makin had done well with his work. That is until General Ignis and the men and women of the Demogorgon Facility surpassed him. And still, the Allies had found a way to counter that massive tower to some degree.
Ignis surely had done well with his work. Making had no idea how they did it. The Azazeal was true work of technological art. It was the greatest aircraft of the millennium. Makin had heard rumors about how they built it. Some said they canalized designs and pieces from the countries that had already tried to build such flying titans of their own. But that didn't matter now. What mattered was that this craft could signal the critical change in momentum that Verusa desperately needed.
And yet, it would never be a full victory for Makin. The biggest hole to fill in his life was his son...and he had been dead for weeks. Despite knowing that his son had died in some bizarre freak collision, he felt the pangs of vengeance once again. It had come to haunt him when he was at the Dispater; now he had another chance. He hoped that his son would be proud of what he was doing now.
The craft was going to set a new benchmark for the "state of the art". There were six X-9A modules, a dozen surface-to-air missiles, five rail guns, and a ton of AA guns. Not to mention the swiveling lasers above and below the massive ship. Then there was the big rail gun. The bridge was protected by powerful glass, resistant to most, if not all, heavy caliber bullets. The only thing that could crack it without doubt was some kind of a fast moving object of considerable size; an object like a plane. But what were the odds of that happening? After all, why else would they have put the anti-air defenses on the airship?
Makin wasn't in command of the ship; rather, a General Varro was the skipper of this vessel. Makin, and many other people in the White Crow, liked Varro. He was sadly underused as the war went along, but now he had a purpose. No, he had a more important purpose than simply doing a job. He was in charge of trying to swing the war back towards Versua's side. That was some job...but Varro wasn't afraid of the task.
Makin always liked a man who was in total control of his situation.
"We're approaching the target area, sir. We've finished the first volleys, and the Allied air forces around the city have begun moving toward us."
"Excellent. All stations, this is the bridge, commence Azazeal Stage One. Ladies and gentlemen, you know what to do." said Varro.
This craft had certain..."stages". This stage was the normal one. Everything was in functioning in perfect order. All the stations were intact and everything was going smoothly. The plan of the Allies being drawn out was playing directly into the game plan for this situation. Once they'd swept the skies over the city, they could focus on the city itself. Their main goal was to avoid the outer areas and do whatever it took to force the Allies out of the city. Since the city had surrendered peacefully, indicating the intent of treachery, the entire city was considered hostile. Neither Varro nor Makin had any problems with that.
After a few tense minutes, the planes escorting the Azazael began to fan out and accelerate towards the approaching Allied planes.
"Allied planes approaching!" said one of the operators.
"Open up all gunnery ports! Fire away!" Varro ordered. Makin stared coldly at the officers working.
"Well, now it's either immortality...or nothing at all." said Makin, eyes like icebergs.
Over Disra
January 2, 2016
1807 hrs
David Lovecraft had faced down titans once before. The Scinfaxi, the Hrimfaxi, Cruik, the Arkbird, the SOLG...but Blaze had never seen anything like this. Whatever this elephantine ship was, it was surely more destructive than anyone had ever laid eyes on. David suddenly saw what looked like a swiveling laser on the top of the craft! It was firing at an upward angle, but could only stay at ninety degrees. David informed everyone to stay in the middle. But there was yet another problem. There was nowhere that was truly safe. They were taking fire from all directions; they were even being harassed by fighters from behind.
The entire craft buzzed with missiles, lasers, and flak all around it. The firing was relentless as it continued on its rather quick pace to the city. The ground was being as damaged as the sky around this gargantuan flying machine.
David's original plan had been shot down...so a new one was needed; and quickly. They needed to concentrate on one thing at a time. A plane could survive flak...but not a straight blue laser of death. But what to do? There were still enemy planes around, and they were going to need the missiles for them...but it was clear that this...flying titan was going to require some serious firepower.
"All aircraft focus on the offensive weapon systems of the airship. Go for the lasers and rail guns first." said the AWACS.
"Easier said than done!" shouted Andrew.
"How do I target this thing?! Nothing's giving off a radar signature." said one of the allied pilots.
"Just set your missiles to the vectors called before. Call it out, and we'll try to guide you in for the attack." Scion told all the pilots.
Scion began calling out the coordinates to the aircrews.
However, that surely was easier said than done. Andrew Fisch punched in the coordinates and now came the hard part...focusing on the central rail guns. There was one problem; well…there were actually four or five problems. The first problem was actually targeting the damn lasers. Next, he had to dodge the enemy planes swirling around the massive craft. Then, he had to dodge the hail of flak above and below and in the middle of the craft. Then, he had to actually to dodge the lasers. Add to that...Andrew didn't even know if his missiles would even do enough damage. But he knew the answer. Well, he knew it...but it was Polly who called it in.
"Any Allied units near the...front..or whatever the frock this thing is...get right in front and start blasting away at this thing!" said Polly.
For the first time in the war, Wardog was about to enjoy and alpha dog status. Just as he said that, several other planes from other groups had already began to fire at the locations where Scion had indicated. Andrew had already targeted two of the guns and fired before having to evade incoming enemy missiles. But he was able to see a rather modest explosion from two places in front of the craft.
"Well, that's two down." said Andrew.
Blaze and Edge came perpendicular to the craft, and Edge caught one fighter that was approaching them from about fifteen miles out. Blaze didn't see it...because he didn't have to. Edge fired her Sidewinder and fell in behind her husband as he tried to work out some strategy on how to deal with this thing. Andrew was near them, and he saw Dragon do something that was just insane. It was seriously "gnarly", as Andrew described it.
He just came down and dropped bombs on the top of the airship, just ignoring the flak and just blowing through there. They were some heavy bombs too, as they exploded along the top and took out a few of the defenses on top. Soon other pilots were doing the same thing...though they weren't as lucky. Now the Allies were in a rhythm, pounding the ship with everything they had.
But that so-far-so-good line was only temporary. He should have known better than to assume things were alright, because they were not alright at all. He took a quick look at his radar screen as his window filled with black clouds of exploding shrapnel. The radar was screwing up and it became wavy and warped. That only meant one thing...
"Oh, snap!" said Fisch.
That got everyone looking towards the craft...and no one needed to be told what to do. No one in Wardog needed any more information. They'd been briefed about the possibilities of the enemy equipping those X-9 weapons on their fighters and other aircraft. And that was the way they hoped it would remain: a possibility. No more. Cormorance deduced that they would use the X-9 in the same defensive matter as the Ajax in the Ceres Ocean.
The allied aircraft began to move away from the Azazael as some kind of purplish shield came over it. David was incredulous. How in the world did they do this?
Everyone went nuts. Some Allied aircraft crashed into the barrier and were subsequently fried.
"What the hell is that?!" asked one of the Allied pilots.
"It's got some kind of protective...electrical shield over its hull; pull up! Pull up! Stay away from it!" Cormorance shouted.
Grimm was worried at this point. He was still turning above the craft with Cormorance. He hadn't been that successful at actually making any kills, but he did his job of keeping the planes away from the allied units. He found himself suddenly upside down but he was still following Artemis. He quickly took a glance at a picture of his love, Lauren Weiss, and then angrily looked for more enemies to take on. He was burning though the sky now and he intended to do whatever he could to ensure that his mysterious aircraft would burn on the ground.
Then things took a shocking turn...literally.
Grimm was too lucky. In fact, a dozen or so aircraft were way too lucky to avoid it. David saw it, but Grimm did not. All around them, electrical pulses ripped though metal, friendly and enemy. It was way too fast, but they were lucky to be alive.
"Allied Squadron wiped out! What the hell was that!" shouted the AWACS, in a temporary loss of control.
Cormorance had quickly deduced that this attack had been some sort of a pulsing electrical attack similar to what occurred during the skirmish above the Ajax in the Ceres Ocean. Soon, there were a lot less planes in the sky...enemy or friendly. They'd even wiped out some their own allies!
David was utterly incensed by this. It was clear this was an enemy that was unconscionable and ruthless beyond any means. Something seriously wrong must have been happening in their command structure to not even value the few loyal people they had. But then again, their goal of clearing the skies was somewhat of a success. But suddenly, the warping went away. David figured that it had to...recharge or something.
And as if that ace in the hole wasn't enough...then suddenly the bottom of the aircraft began to open up and revealed some long, narrow, mechanical, and spiky tube. David was beneath it, still trying to get an angle, trying to work out some form of attack. Suddenly, two enemy planes forced him away from the aerial fortress.
"What is that?!" Polly shouted.
The craft began to list right and suddenly, the tube began to fill with blue light. The tube began to glow and from its bowels came a...pulse of some sort. David saw it fly past his plane and hit a part of the city. The massive explosion took out several factory buildings. David and Kei both took a spot check on the area. The area was filled with trucks and tents bearing the Cylaron logo. People were running for their lives below.
"Good lord! Look at that, Captain! Those maniacs! What are they doing!?" shouted one of the Sotoan planes.
"Insolent bastards! They're going to burn the city!" said the obviously recognizable voice of Serena Batiste.
"That's over near the Cylaron plant!" shouted one of the Yuke Allies. David saw it release another pulse, and this time a series of oil tanks went up in a mixture of flame and electrical pulses. David wanted to kill that thing...but...there was a problem.
David just...couldn't get a good shot. The remaining planes were still hellbent on staying in the fight. This was utterly confusing to David. They'd fragged some of their own allies...and they were still willing to fight? Perhaps this group was handpicked as the most hardcore, insane members to escort this craft.
"Take that big ass gun out! Now!" Andrew started yelling, as if he was in command or something.
For some bizarre reason, Kei Nagase had found some common ground with the enemy. That common ground came after this mysterious weapon arm started firing at the city. They'd blasted a whole group of Cylaron-occupied buildings and tents. The fact that they'd already set up shop in Disra indicated just how obvious their intentions were. Never mind that those people had families; Kei knew they represented a cold, harsh reality of Osean Corporate cruelty. But Kei's concern was the people inside the city. They were the people who stood to be taken advantage of by Cylaron and their respective corporate allies.
But how to destroy that big gun?
Suddenly, as Kei flew alongside Blaze, the Azazeal's big gun began to swivel towards them. Kei sharply pulled up and David followed suit as it fired its pulsing weapon yet again. But this time, they were so close that the air around them began to shake their planes. Kei only had three missiles left, having wasted one and used up three others on other targets. The craft was heavily damaged, but it still kept going.
"Da...I mean, Jonathan, keep me covered! I'm going to hammer that damn laser with what I've got left!" said Kei, who almost gave the secret away...yet again. Kei was getting annoyed with herself.
Both flew some distance away from the menacing aircraft and Kei began to rocket towards the craft. Rage drove her focus. Rage for her daughter's death at the hands of these people. It was then that she realized that Cormorance had been right about the Versuans.
Apart from all this weaponry they have, their leaders will not drop a dime in the mouths of the mostly starving population or money in the hands of the poor.
"Look out!" David shouted.
David quickly pushed left and launched yet another Sidewinder at an approaching enemy plane. That was enough to drive it off and Kei continued on. Navarro, in the backseat, targeted three points with the remaining Sparrows on Kei did not have her attention diverted for the last critical moments. She fired the last of her three missiles, each detonating along the side of the rail gun. With that action, it simply exploded. Kei didn't know it, but that cannon was attempting to fire yet another round. As it blew, it began to descend. In a premeditated course of action, the remains of the cannon collapsed right over a part of the outskirts of the city. There was a sense of false hope when it began to lose altitude.
"It's falling!" shouted Grimm.
"No, it's just trying to level itself out!" said Cormorance. Sure enough, the plane finally leveled out and even increased its speed.
"All remaining units: get some hits in around the cockpit area immediately! Don't let that ship get further into the city's airspace." said the AWACS.
"What about the people inside the city?" Kei asked. She was still struggling with her feelings on the Versuan people, however she didn't want a repeat of the tragedy in Valuria. This only made her furious as the Versuan Government showed her yet again they had no regard for their own people.
"Evacuation is underway from the central area…but it probably won't do much good if it crashes in downtown Disra." Scion said.
David had one good shot at the bridge and he knew exactly where it was. He called it, and fired the subsequent missile towards the bridge. The Sparrow did not require heat, so he could simply point and shoot it, just keeping his lock on the plane. He was some three thousand feet above it. He tried to slow his airspeed...but that wasn't that wise considering the incoming fire. David almost had a scare when an enemy plane got a lock on, but Grimm dealt with it quickly. For once Grimm was in the right place at the right time.
"Damn, what the hell!" David said, his penultimate missile wasted on the bridge attack.
It was clear to David that this thing was not going to go down easily. Apparently, the remaining fighters still hung around and they were determined to keep the fight going as long as possible. This did not make any sense to Blaze. Then...David finally realized the purpose of this mission. It was a suicide mission. They were going to take Disra with them...
Aboard the Azazael
January 2, 2016
1818 hrs
Makin wasn't sure how much more they could take. They'd inflicted some damage on the enemy, but they still came on and were picking apart the ship. They were on a tear now.
The Allies didn't realize it, but this flying fortress was suffering. The Azazeal had taken critical damage, but it was still flying. Alarms pierced the air all around them. Varro and the uninjured crew were trying desperately to keep the massive bird in the air. They'd inflicted severe damage to the Allied air forces and caused all kinds of havoc in the city. But it was those pesky few survivors (including the Deceiver aces) that were still staying in the fight. It was those pesky few who were doing most of the damage. But try as they might, they could not bring this massive bird down. The Azazeal would not go down without a brutal fight.
Makin was the most worried of the crew on the bridge. Perhaps the pilots and the bridge crew were not showing the worry. The rest of the ship was going ape. There were wounded and dead all over the place. Areas of the ship had collapsed...but it was still flying. Makin could not tear his eyes from the battle all around him. That is until a hand grabbed his arm.
"Sir, you'd better come with me. I'll escort you to the pods." said a female officer. Makin was incredulous.
"What's going on!? We're still in the fight!" he protested.
"We're about to enter the final stage! We're getting all the wounded off the ship as fast as we can!" said the woman.
Making looked at her as if he was insulted she'd even ask that question. But, despite the look, he responded tactfully. As he did, he noticed the female officer had a noticeable limp. Why would she be concerned about him? Then again, she was one of the staff officers from the Demogorgon.
Calmly, he said, "No. I'll stay here. Evacuate yourself. You'd just slow me down."
The woman looked at him, and then limped away without asking any questions to wherever the hell the pods were. The ship shook again but it was not strong enough to knock Makin off his feet. Makin didn't want to leave as he wanted to see this through the bitter end. He owed it to his son to do so. He'd only wished they'd been able to get closer to the city.
"Final Stage...so be it." said Makin.
Makin knew exactly what the "final stage" was. The final stage's results would be similar to that of the Ajax. It was simple: the self-destruction of the entire ship. It would ignite the X-9s' of the entire craft, electrocuting everything on the ground and at their altitude in a ten mile radius. More than enough to destroy all of Disra in one shot...and all the Allied forces in the city. With some luck, it could even cook the crude oil underneath the city. The people and soldiers of Disra were less than nothing anyway. They'd betrayed their motherland...and they deserved death for their actions.
"Ladies and gentleman, we are preparing to enter the final stage. If anyone wants off the ship before it blows, now is the time to bail out!" said Varro to the men and woman still on deck.
But no one moved from their stations. The crew only replied in unison: Abara Vivo Verusa! Long live Versua; they would rather commit martyrdom than surrender. Varro looked at Makin, who had shouted it with the crew.
"I'm surprised you stayed on. So, I guess this is the part where we all become heroes." said Varro to Makin.
"A hero can die. Heroes are forgotten General, but legends never die. We will die legends!" replied Makin.
Now came the easy part. They only had to get to the city center. That only required a simple flight correction. There was nothing but suicidal confidence on the bridge. Makin had stayed, which was a bit out of character considering his cynical nature. But he'd thrown that out of the window for a chance to strike fear into the hearts of the Allies. The Allies were damaging the craft, but their attack was fading away. They were running out of steam, and more importantly, missiles. What could stop them now?
Over Disra
January 2, 2016
1819 hrs
Makin nor Varro had ever heard of Polly Elbe from Boston, Osea. She was around the craft trying to stay alive...and it was this woman who'd decide things. The Allies were trying the best they could. However, they could...not...get...this...damn...aircraft to go down!
It was so fast, Polly didn't notice it until it was too late. A bolt of that dammed man-made electrical storm had grazed Polly's airplane. Once it hit the plane, Polly felt a piercing, unbearable pain. That blast should have destroyed her airplane. But it did not; instead, it mangled and burned her left arm and leg. Polly was tough, however. She didn't notice it, but quite a few circuits had been burned...very important ones. But as she stayed upright, her life flashed before her eyes.
If someone told Polly Elbe that she'd be in the air force fighting some massive aerial battleship, she would have believed it...assuming of course, one told her that when she was in a drunken stupor. Though the "Harpy" had probably spent most of her life in a drunken stupor…
She'd grown up in a broken home with a father who drank too much and a mother who had rage issues. Things did not bode well for Polly Elbe growing up and it never did. She, like her father, took up drinking at an early age. It wasn't a problem for Polly back then. Her father didn't give a crap about much as he drifted from job to job, and her mother was always angry at something. Her parents didn't care so much about Polly, as they thought she was just a burden. They didn't care and Polly didn't care either.
So Polly ended up going out at night on occasion, but then she stayed longer and longer. Eventually she got in trouble, and nearly got killed as a passenger in a drunk driving accident that killed an old couple. She escaped the big vehicular manslaughter charges but was sent to a special Rehabilitation center. It was more like a military boot camp or a hard, federal prison. Lights out, the yard, people screaming in her face, the showers...
Polly never forgot those memories.
While she was there, she never got the sense of any concern from the people who lorded over her. She instead found it in the people she was serving with. They became a true "band of brothers...and sisters". Eventually, Polly got out and while on the flight back home, she looked at the scenery and over the horizon. It was then she decided to be a pilot. She was eighteen; it was almost an eternity ago.
She breezed through the Air Force Academy...though that was a relative term. She graduated a few spots from last in her class. The only one who did worse than her was Andrew Fisch, who she ironically shared a class with. But she was used to punishment, long hours, and little sleep by now. But she had a habit of just being in the wrong place at the wrong time...and just generally doing stupid, maverick stuff. The only thing that impressed her instructors was her toughness.
They could kick the crap out her and she got back up and asked for more. Those five years defined Polly Elbe. Despite her faults, she brought it every time. Her instructors knew she was a tough and hard-nosed pilot, but she was not a quality leader...and they knew it would prove limiting in her career. It didn't take Polly long to find out how limiting...
It was that same toughness that was her downfall in the service as she tended to be stubborn and her old drinking habits caught up with her. That reason was why she bounced around from squad to squad. But she'd found a home now with this motley crew of pilots, each with their own faults and strengths. And despite any previous reservations with them, she was willing to die for each one of them. Lillian, Cormorance, Andrew, Preston, Ava, and Jonathan.
She was about to get her chance. The others just didn't know it yet.
She could barely the fighter she was in. It was amazing she had any control at all since the F-16 was like an expensive dinner plate when it came to fragility. She couldn't even control her left arm anymore. It was horribly burned now and even as she tried to pull the eject handle with her right hand...it didn't even work when she pulled it. The circuits to it had blown completely. No ejection. It was easy to tell since the reserve switch didn't go either. Polly knew that if the reserve switch wasn't working...you were pretty much screwed since it took something seriously weird to make that not work. Perhaps that X-9 lighting crap had fried the connectors...
But it didn't matter now. The telemetry was a mess and the only thing still working were the engines. There was no way she was going to make it back to base on a torn up right wing. Not even the landing gear worked. Polly Elbe was going to die soon.
Polly had noticed her friends finally managing to pick apart the craft, but they couldn't get to the engines or the bridge...as of yet. Several Allied planes had been lost while they tried to get in hits around the bridge.
"Polly!? Respond! Are you alright?" asked Lillian.
But Polly didn't say anything. If she couldn't eject...then she at least planned to take someone with her. She wasn't sure there if there was a Hell, but at least she wasn't going to go alone if there was. But who would serve as a good travel buddy? She didn't have any of the manual reversion controls that an A-10 had. So she was only going to have one shot at this before she lost all power.
Then it hit her! This giant ship would be the prize and if she could take the whole crew of some mysterious battleship to Hell with her...
But how? She took a page from one of her favorite movies...she was going to bring the entire ship down by taking out the bridge. Her plane would serve as some human and metallic battering ram of sorts. But she was going to need some help.
Polly Elbe took a brief look over her life.
Let's see...accomplished something important: check. Sampled every liquor known to man: check. Got laid a few times: check. Left everyone better than I left them: check...I think. Talked to Mom and Dad: check. Will and testament complete: check. Is war is in the bag? I think that is a big check. Time to go out in style!
"What is she doing?!" Jonathan yelled.
"Eject!" said Andrew.
Polly could see the top of whatever the frock this craft was. She was approaching it from the front and off to the left at about 8,000 feet above it. The craft had taken plenty of damage...but no one could hit from the cockpit as of yet due to its defenses. Luckily, another purplish lighting blast from the craft erupted right in front of it. It was time to make her move. It would not work twice. If she missed...oh well. She'd be dead anyway. She tried to ignore the excruciating pain in her left arm. She let go and set the throttle to maximum. She had plenty of height. She had all the factors in place. She was going to crash right into that damn craft. It was a rather fitting tombstone.
"Polly! Get out of there now!" said Lillian. At this point, Lillian was in a state of absolute panic. The last person she wanted to see die was Polly Elbe. She'd seen enough people die…and to lose her friend would have been unthinkable.
"I can't get out of my craft. I've tried everything." said Polly.
"Keep trying! Don't give up!" Fisch shouted. Now Polly was annoyed.
"I just said I tried everything!" Polly snapped.
"Shoot out the canopy!" Fisch shouted out.
"Oh yeah, like this pea shooter is going to break through plastiglas!" said Polly. Polly had ruled that option out since the cockpits were designed to stop all low caliber rounds and a few higher caliber rounds from the outside and inside.
"I can barely turn this thing but...I think I can..." said Polly.
"Try landing on the road." suggested Ava.
"I can't. Nothing works except the engines and the right turn." Polly said.
Nagase's blood turned cold. She'd seen this once before...over the skies over November City. It was just like Chopper's fate. She held on to a fleeting hope that it wouldn't turn out the same way. But she was wrong. Then, Nagase saw her begin to fall towards the aircraft.
"Polly...what are you doing!? Polly!" Lillian shouted. Lillian had noticed that she'd pointed her nose right into the path of the oncoming airship.
"Captain! Do me a favor and distract the AA around the bridge for me! Quick!" said Polly.
"You got it! Good luck!" said Cormorance. That was what Polly liked about Alou. He'd do whatever was necessary, no questions asked. It was as if he knew what she was going to do now.
Polly had noticed the trailing flak as Cormorance quickly zoomed by. She gave him a fleeting salute, even though Alou was unable to see her. Lillian and the other still hadn't figured it out yet!
"Thanks, Artemis...and don't worry about me! I've got a date with the flying saucer. I'll save all you guys a seat in Hell!" said Polly, almost laughing with her words.
Polly's only regret was that she didn't have a drink to celebrate the occasion. The Azazael was only a hair's breath away from downtown. She pointed the nose down and put on the full afterburner; but halfway...it gave out. Yet it didn't matter. Polly laughed all the way to the scene of the crash. Her last thoughts summed it all up. The last thing she heard was Lillian Izzo calling her name.
"Polly!" Lillian shouted.
It wasn't such a bad life after all...
Polly Elbe's world exploded...and everything went dark.
David saw the entire terrible event as he crossed underneath the Azazael's right wing. He pulled up and to the right, climbing back over the top of the flying fortress. Then he saw Polly somehow maneuver her fast falling plane right into the bridge of that craft. As she did...
Makin took solace in one thing. There was no solace to be had; only truth. He'd done so much for the motherland and now all the sacrifices he made meant nothing. He looked up as the craft crashed right into the observatory. No one but him saw it coming. He accepted his death as he closed his eyes. It was at that time that Makin realized he had failed his son. His world went dark as the errant craft crashed into the observatory.
Kei didn't quite see Polly crash into the bridge, but she saw the results. The entire bridge exploded and for a minute, nothing happened...then...things went the way it should have. The craft began to list a bit, and finally tip over to its right. Luckily, it was high enough that its collapsing form missed the entire center of the town and continued to fall east towards the outskirts of town. Lillian turned away from the crash...unwilling to look at the inevitable results.
The tip of the right wing crazed the ground and broke off, hitting the ground with an immense thud which caused the panicking people below to believe that an earthquake was in progress. That knocked the massive machine onto its back as it did a lazy roll...and finally crashed into the ground on its back...just on the edge of the city. In a display of sheer power, the ruined craft exploded in a shower of flame and electrical blasts. But it was nowhere near the intensity that it was intended. The Azazael was finished.
The man formerly known as Blaze let out a sigh of relief. But his head sunk into his instrument panel upon the realization that Polly was not coming back.
"It's going down! It's going down! We did it!" said one of the Allied pilots remaining.
You did it? You did nothing, Kei thought. The Allied pilots...rather, Allied hangers-on, had no business celebrating this one. After all, Wardog did all of the work. They destroyed the lasers and that huge rail gun and the defenses! And it most importantly of all...it was Polly who gave it the coup de grace.
Now she felt totally insulted...but she could say nothing to protest.
"Wow...did that really just happen?" said David, almost unwilling to believe what had just occurred.
"Yeah...I guess I have to slap myself to stay awake." said Lillian, turning back into the formation.
"So long Harp...at least you got a heavy ass tombstone to go with it." said Fisch, struggling to find words...something seriously out of character for the man they called "Jacks".
"Yeah...so long, Polly." Lillian said, barely containing her emotion. Then she just let it out
"Sorry." she said, still breathing rather laboriously.
David cursed now. Now he became angry at the Versuans. The hate filled his soul again. The very fact that the Versuans just refused to quit was wearing on him. Far too many people were dying that didn't have to. David, of course, had no idea that the Versuans were attempting to self-destruct the craft over downtown Disra, but...it was a moot point if anything now.
Grimm felt exactly the same when Chopper died all those years ago. Now Grimm began to feel sick. Once again, he'd been helpless to prevent such a sacrifice. Once again, people were dying that didn't need to. Once again, they were going home with fewer pilots than they took off with; it was déjà vu.
Though, Nagase had different emotions all of the sudden. She turned off her radio and started laughing a bit. Even though she was dead, she'd gone out how she'd probably wanted to. Not to mention that Polly Elbe was the same person to the bitter end. She was just snide and she didn't change for anyone...even when she knew that death was coming. What made the deaths of Polly Elbe and Alvin Davenport totally similar was that Kei was never expecting Polly and Chopper to be the kind of people to commit martyrdom of any kind. But neither one of them had any choice, now that she thought about it.
And strangely, but important, Nagase had taken solace in the fact that Polly actually carried the state secret of Kei and David's bizarre intercourse game to the grave...
Polly's death was driven home when Grimm, who had been lined up with Lillian, Cormorance and Fisch in a formation, flew off to the right. No one said a word, as everyone knew what that was. It was the old missing wingman formation. They'd done it before, but this time Grimm did it himself...even though he knew little about that Polly Elbe. But at least he was doing something for someone other than himself...
Bright Hill
Oured, Osea
January 2, 2017
0200 hrs
President Cohen disliked these late night calls to Lucien Jackson. These time zones were a killer. But she'd gotten used to late nights during this war. His intelligence division, Section Seven, had been working overtime as they tried to work out the details of the war and information that could save lives. But victory was not coming cheap and people were starting to grumble. That was what bothered Mary Cohen the most. She never liked sending people to die for Osea, but truth be told...Versua gave them no choice.
The "blood for oil" campaigns had heated up again. It couldn't be helped. When Grunder collapsed in 2011, Cylaron had entered into a partnership with Dyne-Drive Armorworks, the new military munitions producer of Osea. It was a lose-lose situation. Now every Democratic, left-winged rat from Oured to Kansas came out of the wood works to pile on Mary Cohen. Cohen had been literally running on empty the past few days, surviving off energy drinks and coffee for hours at a time.
But that wasn't important at the moment. She was awaiting that secret, but all important phone call in some back room in the
"Lucien." said Cohen, not needing to even pause.
Madam President. How are you this evening?
"Well, the left-wing wolves are at the door. But so far, things are going fine. Though I wish it was at your time and not two in the morning." said Cohen.
Well, we can't all have what we want. How's the family?
"Wonderful...and I'm not just saying that."
I can say this. We're this close to victory. We're right around the corner. But...the bad news is that our current strategy for destroying the Dispater is going to be rather costly, even more than we originally thought. We're expecting a twenty eight percent survival rate.
Cohen raised an eyebrow in shock. "Holy Christ. We've already lost a lot good men in this struggle."
We're going by a lot of information we already have...and its not much. Mr. Clarke is arranging a meeting with the leadership of the resistance, but their role has somewhat diminished since Operation Antares. I won't lie to you; the Dispater's key information is on lock down. At least the Versuans are doing that right. But, when this war is over and everyone's gas prices are lower...no one is going to be complaining.
"But Jesus H. Christ, Lucien...twenty eight percent!? That is completely unacceptable!" said the President.
Don't be getting soft on me, Mary. We just need to win, old friend…at any cost. After all, why the hell do you think I brought those pilots into Wardog?
"I don't care. We can't afford to be treating everyone as expendable at this point!"
We're all expendable to some degree. Why do you think I selected such those two emotionally racked pilots from the Razgriz...and a group of nut jobs and castoffs?
"Then you better double your efforts. We're taking all kinds of flak for this blood for oil situation. Let's not drown in it."
Tell that to the White Crow. They don't seem to care about their civilians anyway. They're lighting more of the oil wells on fire, attacking their own cities. We're doing the best we can...
Cohen raised her voice an octave, to let Lucien know who was really in charge.
"I don't give a rat's ass about the Versuan people! I care only about John and Jane Somebody who had to bury their nineteen year old soldier because he couldn't dodge superheated electricity. So do your goddamn job...and do it quickly." she said.
I'll get on it.
Cohen hung up the phone and simply walked out of the room. At the end of the hall, she passed by two Secret Service agents who merely nodded to her. She only gave a half nod in return and went back to work. It was going to be yet another sleepless night in Oured.
Karbala, Versua
January 2, 2017
1845 hrs
Sueltana Devia looked out of the window of the ready room. She had been there for some time, waiting for her heroes to return from the darkening sky. She knew that the city where they'd flown had surrendered. Their people realized that the fight was an impossible one. It was typical of the way kids would have their own particular feats of strength. Perhaps this land wasn't as tough as it claimed to be. Sueltana always hated that about people. But at the time, there was no reason to panic. The war was coming to a close.
Or was it?
Sometime before, everyone went nuts. There was plenty of yelling and screaming, cursing and blasting of jet engines. Something had gone wrong.
Sueltana could only hope her benefactors, a word Ava used once, were alright. She expected the obvious result of seven planes returning to action. Soon, after everything had calmed down, the planes began to return. Sueltana counted each one as they landed. But this time...there was a shocker; this time there were only six planes...not seven.
This fact told Sueltana one distinct and brutal fact: someone had died along the way. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that one out. The squadron's designated rescue helicopter had not left...and six planes were returning. There were no sand storms this time; as Sueltana learned from Mr. Alou, there were south of the areas prone to massive sandstorms. And most important of all, the squadron never returned until their job was finished. Someone had died out there...but who?
Sueltana had seen an absurd amount of death and destruction in her life. She'd lived with watching people die and she'd tried to get used to it. War is an ugly, terrible business, said Jonathan once. But now, in the face of the obvious, she learned something important about herself: there was no such thing as getting used to death. That fact was made all too clear when she saw the returning pilots. As she watched with a tearful eye, she saw the six pilots approach the building from the ready room window.
Ms. Elbe was dead. She was not among the six approaching.
The approaching six drug themselves like they'd emerged from days in the desert; their eyes were heavy, their body language was a mixture of anger, exhaustion and sadness. They looked beat up. Sueltana couldn't bear to see it. She ran from the ready room and down the hall. She buried herself beneath her bed to cry her eyes out in privacy. She didn't notice her own rather audible wailing. She covered her ears and closed her eyes, refusing to believe what she had seen. She tried to block it out of her mind. It seemed strange...because the people she'd developed a bond with, Jonathan and Ava, were still alive. But something about Ms. Elbe sent her over the edge.
She kept her eyes closed for a long time. She closed her eyes hoping that it was some horrible dream. It seemed so stupidly ironic to try to attempt this. And it was then, that she realized how twisted her own mind had become. A million images flooded into her brain, images of death and destruction. Visions of the aforementioned showed up in her mind; some of which weren't even true memories of events. She found herself being shaken from her nightmare by a set of hands. Sueltana couldn't understand what was going on until she looked up and found herself in the embrace of that pretty Ava. Sueltana wasn't sure how she found her, forgetting that her screaming had woken up the dead.
"It'll be okay. Shhhh...It'll be okay. You're going to be alright." said Ava. Ava deeply wished this girl was her own. She wouldn't abandon her now.
Sueltana could finally breathe again...but the horrible feelings were still there. She tried to shake herself from the embrace of Ava...but she could not. She decided not to resist anymore. Sueltana did not know what to feel anymore. Was this world truly a cold, evil place filled with only a handful of good people...or was it the other way around. Was this Versua such a nightmare that it stood out as a complete aberration (another one of Ava's big words) in the world?
Had Sueltana's entire life had become nothing but a nightmare?
She couldn't think about it too much now. She didn't want to know. She'd realized she'd found the one place that was the escape from the nightmare. It was this place and these people. This woman who held Sueltana in her arms like the scared child she was. Ava didn't even care or hesitate. She just did it. She did it without quarrel...as if Sueltana was her own daughter. Regardless of whatever reason...Sueltana finally felt like herself again; and she knew one distinct fact: she didn't want to leave now.
That was the only choice considering the alternative. Versua had long become a nightmare at its very core. She wanted to stay with these people for the rest of her life.
Next: Chapter 22: The Passion of Sueltana Devia