The sound of battle was all around. Guns were firing, chants were shouted, screams were heard. They'd been fighting the horde of fauna for forty minutes straight and the tide didn't seem to end. A Sky Ravager came spinning towards Archangel's position, three Banshee carcasses gunking up its rotors. He could see the pilot's helmeted face for a half-second before they crashed into one of the SPARKs functioning as AA.
"The left flank is running low on heavy munitions and the center and right flanks are completely exhausted," Abaddon reported to her superior over comms.
"Tell Crusader to get her people supporting the right flank and Mox to the middle,"
"Affirmative," the War Dog said.
"Subcommander," Kwan said, breathing heavily.
"Go ahead Kwan,"
"Something's wrong. Very wrong. The plants out here are releasing some sort of spore, it's clinging to our armor and disrupting our camouflage systems...wait a minute. Movement, thirty degrees North. Shit, it's the rogue Na'vi. Open fire! They're fucking everywhere! Mors watch your left! Cover fire! AHHHH..."
"Kwan?" he spat into the comms. "KWAN!" he shouted, "Damnit. Command, this is Archangel. Reapers have met resistance, potentially KIA. How is the second line looking?"
Before he got a response a pack of Viper Wolves charged through a breach made by a Thanator. Unfortunately, the creatures charged while most of the people behind the defensive line were reloading, so the defenders were forced into melee. Riflemen triggered their bayonets and slammed them into the hearts of the beasts. Big Boy slapped one aside with his Beam Cannon before slapping in a new plasma clip and emptying the weapon into the animals. One charged straight at Archangel. He evaded its lunge at the last possible second and slammed his hand into its gut. Thanks to his suit's enhanced strength he tore through the flesh and gripped its intestines. He tore them free and in a fluid move wrapped it around the beast's throat, leaving it to choke on its own guts.
The gap was filled almost as quickly as it had been made, but it showed they were being ground down. Soon they'd have to fall back to the Neo Human line, a prospect he didn't enjoy. The Neo-Humans were not equipped to deal with a battle like this. Hell, the Psi-Terrans hadn't even anticipated this type of fight. "Boss!" War shouted over comms, "You're missing the fun! Get out here!" The War Dog had placed himself on the frontline and had somehow not been killed yet. "If this keeps up, I may be forced to join you War," Archangel said.
"Hahaha," the man laughed, "You do that. Come here, you alien bastards! I AM WAR!" To his right, about two hundred meters down the line, he saw a Viper Wolf corpse go flying followed by a loud howl approximation. He snapped his attention to the map of the battlefield and focused on War's identifier. He was charging into the mass of enemies. "Dumbass," Archangel cursed.
"They're breaking through, right flank is collapsing!"
"Gargoyles three, seven, and nine are down. What's left is falling back to rearm,"
"Medic!"
"WAR! Get back here you moron!"
"Stay with me! Don't die on me!"
Archangel tuned out the screaming. "Monolith, do you read?"
"Yes, Subcommander. What is it?"
"I am authorizing the Sleeping God Protocol,"
"Repeat, execute the Sleeping God Protocol?"
"Affirmative. Eywa's preservation is not worth any more human lives. Put the damn tree down,"
"Sir yes sir. Repositioning for orbital bombardment of the target, eta thirty minutes,"
"Copy that," Archangel said. Thirty minutes would be too long. More men and women died by the second. "This is what you get for playing nice with aliens," Daemon said, rising from a corpse he had been inspecting "You tried respecting them, and now this happened,"
Archangel ignored the man, focusing on the battle. On his hud, War's ID tag turned from blue to red along with dozens of others. Many began to flee from the line, retreating to the second line. And from the trees, the rogue Na'vi joined the fray. Neo Human coil guns and their antiquated ballistic rifles barked and collided with Psi-Terran armor.
"How many more need to die? Daemon asked, "How many more of your comrades need to give up their lives because you won't do what you need to do?"
"You don't care about our people," he said aloud, "You just want out,"
"That's true. But you care, which is why you are going to let me out," Daemon laughed. Archangel took in the scene around him. The dead and the dying. The animals feasting on his comrades. "Fuck you Daemon," he said turning from the line. "Fighting withdrawal," he calmly ordered over comms. More lights turned red as he marched for the hangar.
"Where is he going?" Selfridge asked as he saw Archangel enter the hangar on the cameras. He looked at Huntress and she was pale as a ghost. "That fucking moron," she cursed running for the door. She was stopped by a guard at the door. "The boss wants you to stay here,"
"He is waking him up Pestilence!" she shouted at him.
"Can you blame him Lexi? We're getting slaughtered out there,"
"And when we take the genie out of the bottle we can't put him back. Are you willing to risk that Daemon won't kill us all for fun?" The man's facial features were hidden behind a mask shaped like a screaming, boil covered, face, but the silence was enough to tell that he was scared.
"We're not going in alone," he finally said. He went to a weapons locker and removed several sidearms. "Everyone not doing anything is coming with us," he said, tossing a pair to Huntress.
"That includes you Selfridge," she said, tossing him one of the sidearms.
"I'm not a soldier," he tried to protest.
"Your able-bodied and over sixteen. You've been conscripted, welcome to Xcom," the woman jested, "Now let's go,"
A group of twenty people made their way to the hangar. It was filled with wounded men and women as well as SPARKs being repaired and gunships being rearmed and refueled.
In a back corner, Archangel had removed a crate from a loose panel and had discarded his armor. There was also some large syringe at his feet that made the other Psi-Terrans uneasy. An orange liquid dripped from the needle into a small pool on the ground.
"Archangel," Lexi said, holding her weapon up. He ignored her, moving a chest plate of some kind to his chest. Then the most horrible sound Selfridge had ever heard erupted from the armor plate. Metal grinding against bone as flesh tore. And Archangel didn't even flinch.
He began to do the same with a pair of gauntlets when Huntress approached. "Archangel put them down," she told him. He ignored her and the gauntlets began their horrific cry. He reached for a piece that looked to go on his leg. Huntress dropped her gun and grabbed his arm. "Arch, stop," she told him. He turned his head to look at her.
"Let go bitch," he snarled as he threw her aside. She hit the ground a slid several feet. Weapons snapped at him again. He continued to place his armor on. "Arch, please," she begged. He stopped with a horned helmet in his hands.
"Arch gave in," he growled putting the helmet on, "I'm back in town, deal with it,"
"Daemon," Lexi spat.
"Ni fucking hao bitch," he laughed as the helmet began to drill into his skull, "And I'm here to stay. So unless there are more complaints, I've got blueskins to kill,"
No one lowered their weapons. He looked at Huntress. "I'm being alerted on comms that our men need backup. So...are you going to leave them leaderless? Or will you let me do my fucking job?"
"It's not your job," she said, grinding her teeth.
"Is it not?" he asked, "Here I was thinking I was the Subcommander of this fine band of idiots and rejects,"
"Archangel was, not you," Huntress spat. Daemon laughed, or Selfridge assumed it was laughter.
"I don't think anyone cares as long as we survive," he told her, grabbing several knives and placing them on his armor. They must've been magnetic since they sat where he placed them. "So if your done being a bitch I'm going,"
She fired a shot that passed by his head by an inch. "You're slipping," he laughed.
"Stand down," she told him. Screams erupted from the front of the hangar. "I don't have time for this," Daemon said, "Pestilence if she pulls that trigger again, shoot her,"
The man stood still for a moment before turning the weapon at Huntress, "Sir yes sir,"
"Pestilence!" Huntress yelled.
"I'm not going on his shit list," he said, "I've still got a family to go home to,"
"Good man," Daemon said. "Now, its time to make some murder,"
Author's Note
Sorry for taking so long. This fic is not dead, I just was suffering from something worse than writer's block. Too many ideas. Mostly for different stories but I couldn't sit down and work on this for so long, it felt like I was making a paragraph a day. I wish I could put in more but I can't. I'll try to get some more done with this story by the end of the month and I intend to finish it before posting any new stories (save for one-offs). I hope everyone is doing well in the world, despite what is happening, and to anyone in D.C., I hope that the danger is far off from you right now. Thank you for reading and please leave comments criticisms or concerns to help me make this, and future stories, better for you.