The end of the United Earth Directory has come and gone, the time of the
Terrans has ticked by, and a new generation has emerged...
Location: Protoss Hospital Camp Perimeter Patrol
Planet: Dionide
Time: 12 May 2067, 1545 hrs.
A group of Protoss zealots marched in ranks around their assigned patrols, followed closely by a few Dragoon soldiers. With their Psi Blades online and plasma cannons fully charged, this lone patrol was ready to defend against even a medium-sized assault force. With several plasma turrets dug in and online, the defensive barrier was even more effective, in combination with a new prototype troop bunker for the Dragoons. The troop of soldiers stopped momentarily for a few visiting seismologists and geographers to take measurements on tectonic plate motion, and other relevant research. Seismographs were brought out, and the scientists began to dutifully conduct their research under the protective eye of the troops.
Unbeknownst to the troops guarding the scientists, a squad of snipers lay encamped roughly 500 yards out from the post. As the Marine snipers lay prone in the grass, raising their new model silenced rifles to their shoulders. Laser-sights painted the heads of the exposed Dragoons, the whole group unsuspecting of any enemy presence. A crew of Ghost scouts, approximately 12 or 13 soldiers, began to move from a forward tactical base almost 1000 meters away from the central facility. Quickly making their way through the underbrush a nearby band of forest. Snaking there way through the surrounding cornfields, they stopped abruptly as the field stopped, blending into open pastures and farmland. Ducking low, they kicked on the stealth generators, crawling prone through the 100 meters of lowlands. Holding their positions, out of range of the plasma cannons and visual acquisition, they signaled to the snipers to commence fire, and began their charge to the post ahead, silenced pistols and sub-machineguns armed. Rifle reports sounded one after another, spurts of blood spraying out from the Dragoon's bodies. The scientists dove for cover in the few seconds to snipers took to reload, but the Ghosts were already there, opening fire at the overwhelmed force. The snipers were keeping the scientists and Zealots pinned down, and the Ghosts actively taking them down with the machine pistols and SMGs. Bullet salvos were fired in sequence. When the snipers took the time to reload the Ghosts would re- open fire, continuing to pin down the broken Dragoon and Zealot forces. As the SMGs ran down on ammunition, side-arms were drawn, and the Ghosts charged, bullets flying over the cornered force, blood, hydraulic fluid, and cryostasis liquids were flying through the air, staining the crop fields.
With a roar, a troop of Vultures entered the fray, concussion grenades firing into the holed up Zealots, and the few remaining Dragoons. One Vulture, flaming and primed to detonate, was abandoned almost at the bunker, and careened into it in a raging fireball. The roaring engines of an approaching Reaver squadron overwhelmed the bloodcurdling screams of the Protoss emanating from the bunker. Fleeing Vultures were caught between fire from their own snipers and the suppressive fire of the Reaver squadron. The Ghosts were overwhelmed by the sudden reinforcements and fled, opening fire with C-10 canister rifles and side arm pistols as they hastily retreated. The sudden roar of plasma engines drowned out the Terran call for help as three Corsair fighters and an Observer moved in on their position. The Corsairs took aim at the now-uncloaked Ghosts, their plasma cannons decimating the small force almost instantaneously. The snipers began to open fire on the hovering Corsairs; a lucky sniper shot knocking out ones rear rudder, sending it plummeting to the ground in a spin. The snipers tossed down the discharged sniper rifles and removed SMG rifles from their side arm holsters, randomly spraying down cover fire as the earth-shaking explosions rocked the battlefield. The cheers of the Marines and few remaining Ghosts accompanied the whir of hydraulic lifters reached the battlefield. Charging Goliath mechanized walkers were followed overhead by three Valkyrie-class missile frigates. H.A.L.O missiles streaked through the air towards the absconding Corsairs, the Valkyries were in hot pursuit, a flood of missiles tailing the Corsairs back to their helipad. The last of the Corsairs impacted with the ground in a blood red orb of flame. As the Valkyries assaulted the fleeing Corsairs, the charging Goliath's had stormed the Protoss bunker under a fierce layout of fire. Bullets impacted against the reinforced Plexiglas composite and the reinforced titanium hull. Ricochet was flying everywhere as the Goliath's plundered the bunkers, their Vulcan auto cannons and RPGs jolting the Protoss within their bunkers. A squadron of dropships lowered several platoons of Elite Special Forces Marines, which entered the subterranean bunker array. Headlights activated and safeties off, they entered enemy territory.
Shifting their view constantly from left to right, watching for the notorious floor and wall traps, the Marine platoon entered the hostile territory of the subterranean bunker facility, darkened by the blackout caused by the raid. The large Marine force was in territory they had no recon for, let alone any idea of what forces were remaining and what was booby-trapped. Moving cautiously through the facility, they were only obeying orders. Scour the bunkers for any data on Sergeant Malliard, the POW located in this quadrant. The SAR team, followed by its technical expert squad, the ragtag team of computer specialists, slowly traces their steps through the facility. A careful Marine caught a barely audible clang of metal, and motioned for his comrade's to turn about and watch their rear. A Marine cocked back the gas-launched grenade launcher on his C-14 Impaler and braced the assault rifle against his shoulder, with an audible hiss, a fuze grenade clattered down the hallway, and the Marines took cover within their suits as a large explosion filled the corridor. Four Dragoons, two heavily damaged, popped around the corner, plasma cannons firing. The flag trooper quickly brought up a prototype energy shield, activating it with a whir as the blue energy bolts impacted of the riot shield. Marines in the front opened fire in echelon formation, people out of ammo or wounded moving to the back for fresher reinforcements. The large force quickly over took the enemy force, and they slowly continued forward, stepping over the smoldering remains of the Dragoons. A long hallway stretched out before them, although dark, four blue torched burned at the end of the tunnel. In a quick flash of light, the blue orbs were dashing forward, accompanied by four long staffs of energy. A trooper called out to his fell troopers "Zealots!" and they opened fire. The grenades and bullets impacted off the armored troopers, but a Ghost target the charging Protoss with his Canister rifle, smashing the Zealot troopers into pieces. Pieces of flesh and metal burned in the corridor, lighting their way down the corridor. When the company reached the bend at the end of the tunnel, opening the access hatch on the first bunker, they were blinded by sudden natural light flooding in from the bunker rifle slits. With a metallic click, they heard the reinforced blast door close behind them, blocking the only exit. The soldier's could hear a stifled whir as a small motor activated, a large blast door opening to their right, and four undamaged Dragoons stepped out into the bunker. With a hum, the Dragoons' plasma cannons kicked in, and the Marines dove for cover amid ricocheting blaster fire. Bullets impacted against the Psionic shielding as the Marines returned fire. Two Ghosts, cloaked and hiding, charged the assaulting troopers, bringing their Kevlar combat knives to bear on the attacking Dragoons. Slicing across their main hydraulics line, a spurt of blue cryostasis and hydraulic fluid spray into the air, splashing into the Ghosts' lenses. With a low chuckle and a smile, one of the Ghosts spat on the smoldering carcasses of the Dragoons, and with a low sigh, the blast door blocking their exit opened, and they resumed their search throughout the channels uneventfully. A company commander and his squad leaders sat for a moment to rest, and discussed their mission amongst themselves.
"Commander, what exactly are we doing in these bunkers?" Questioned the Blue Squad Leader.
"Upper brass has sent us grunts on a reconnaissance and intelligence mission. In that base to our north..." The commander motioned toward the still unprepared hospital prison, "...lies a Terran prisoner. We are ordered to take the facility by a combination of force and stealth, and detain our comrade and escort him home."
"This large an assault force for one sole prisoner?" The Green Squad Leader inquired.
"I'm not quite sure of the reasoning myself, son. But I was told he was a medical detainee and requires removal to a Terran facility."
The soldiers shrug and continued their trudge to the hospital, hoping to breach the underground entrance while forces move to the top to defend against the coming siege.
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Running quickly through the halls of the facility, brushing by a few bewildered scientists, a Protoss security officer was rushing through the halls, carrying a ream of paper in his arms. His mad dash knocked several researchers and technicians over. Bounding into the security office without announcing himself, he stood before the watch commander.
"Sir! Terran forces assaulting rearguard Omega perimeter. They decimated the security line and breached the fence to the facility!"
The watch commander narrowed his eyes at the private, and sent him off, sounding the alarum for battle stations. In a flurry of lab coats and armor, scientists evacuated themselves to the safety of the blast shelters and the soldiers made their way to the plasma cannon batteries.
Following the rush of the lab coats and charging armor, three cloaked Ghosts tagged behind the rush of Protoss, hurrying toward the nearest exit. The ground shook suddenly, and the stampeding Protoss tumbled over each other in chaos. Explosive shells were detonating on the armored walls of the facility, but were shredding the worn armor quickly. Concentrating his thermal goggles in the direction of the blast, he saw the signature of a siege tank, and the troop hurried their pace toward the exit on their maps. Stepping out into the open field beyond the first blast door, two well- placed sniper shots disabled the other two Ghosts. Malliard stopped in his tracks and raised his hands up. Obviously whoever was shooting either knew they were coming or had detectors out. Glacning quickly, he saw a few Marines nearby moving toward him, firing sporadically at charging Protoss forces, which were quickly gunned down. Two medics tended to the wounded Ghosts, a soldier holding his side arm pistols to their heads.
"You two are under arrest under Protectorate Doctrine 8A; deserting the scene of the battle, and recieve a designation of absent without leave. Also, you are charged under Doctrine 12E; failing to obey orders from higher command, and Doctrine 43T; causing the accidental or purposeful death of a fellow soldier."
The MP officer read him them their rights as members of the armed forces, and carried them off on the stretchers. Malliard glanced off to his left and saw a line of disarmed Protoss marching toward a makeshift prisoner's camp. Curiously, he saw the siege tanks continuing to shell the facility. Shrugging, he looked back to the CSM (command sergeant major) in charge of this detachment, and smiled coyly.
"Sir..." Malliard saluted to the superior enlisted man, "...those two indeed caused the death of the Lieutenant, and forced me out of the camp. I assumed they were following under the orders of my corps commander, as they had stated, and followed them as requested."
The CSM nodded nonchalantly and motioned towards a waiting dropship. Boaring the vessel, they lifted off and sped toward the tactical base 30km distant.
Looking down, Malliard could see the destruction this lone battalion had caused. Burning hulks of stacked yellow armor and death Zealots littered the battlefield. Onyl a few Terrans lie dead or wounded on the field, and most had already been retrieved by the medical corps. A construction battalion was laying charges on a nearby series of bunkers, and with a resonating detonation they went up in a column of flame. Soon, the dropship landed in a makeshift airbase, and he was escorted off of the vehicle by two overly aggresive MPs. He reached a nearby barracks, and was tossed quite careslessly into a barren room without any furnishings over then a wooden bench and a pillow.
Quickly, a door opened from the wall and a surly major general stepped into the room. Malliard quickly rose to salute the officer, and he motioned for him to sit. Quickly, the walls changed a deep, almost crimson, shade of red around him, and the major general pulled his sidearm, placing it to Malliard's head.
"Under executive order 82 of the Protectorate Marines Doctrine of Law, I have been ordered to execute you on the grounds of treason and espionage. Also, under executive order 32, I have been orderer to execute you under authority of the Adjutant of the Marine Corps for the protection of our sovereignty and our respective miltaries. If you have anythign you wish to say before you are executed, your request is denied."
In Malliard's mind, those words were spoken in a slow, monotonous, droning voice, stretching out the syllables of every word. With each spoken word his anger grew, his eyes narrowing, the veins pulsing as they grew bloodshot, the iris tinting to an eerie bright red, and his arm shot out, diving under the extended gun arm of the major general. He squeezed on the cartoid artery, and pulled down sharply, cutting off the blood flow away from his head. He fell to the floor instantly, unconscious.
A rush of rage and aversion coursed through his veins, his blood red hot. He charged at the bolted door, and with a sharp crack, the lock splintered and fell from the door. A surprised duo of MPs looked up, guns trained on Malliard. He charged towards toward the MPs, dodging their spurts of bullets in a zigzagged roll. He took the soldiers by their heads and crashed their skulls together, both men bleeding freely from their scalp, lying unconscious. Malliard retrieved his confiscated Psi blades as well as the MPs sub-machineguns. He chuckled to himself and bolted toward the exit, rushing past startled MPs who senselessly fired after Malliard. Malliard grin maniacally and turned on his heel, charging two more guards, knocking them to their asses with sharp blows his his elbows. He quickly squeezed the triger to his SMGs, three-round-spurts of bullets emptying the MPs chests. He let out a demented laugh as he charged straight into the guard post, and quickly cut down the surprised guards with his Psi blades. Blood splattered the safety glass, and a nearby guard sounded the alarm before Malliard put a bullet in his head. Typing quickly onto the nearby computer console, he located the triage bay and cut open the door with his Psi blades. Quickly dashing towards the east wing of the facility, he was blockaded by a row of MPs sporting riot shields and C-14 rifles. Quickly opening fire on the stunned Malliard, their bullets bounced at his feet as he dashed towards the wall, scaling the high wall, running sideways across the wall, leaping nimbly across the riot shields. Before the bulky armored troopers could turn around, he quickly put three round-bursts of bullets into their heads, the bodies slumping over agaisnt the shields, the floor a river of blood. A mad chuckle parted his lips and he continued his charge towards the medic bay. Three ghosts sporting prototype plasma sabers; Terran mock-ups of the Protoss Psionic blades, charged the suprised Malliard.
Dropping his SMGs, he activated the more reliable and powerful Psi blades. Parrying the charging Ghosts' attacks, he spun on his heels, crouched low, cutting the lead Ghost's legs out from under him. With a cry of pain, he fell to the floor, defenseless as Malliard plunged the blade into his chest. Flying sparks diverted Malliard's attention back to the fight as he saw a raised saber swing downard at his head. Dashing backwards quickly, the Ghost's blade sliced the dead soldier in half vertically, the two parts falling away. Laughing maniacally, he continued to parry to attacks. As the soldiers brought their blades to bear on Malliard, he caught them in his own two blades, and lept into the air, placing a roundhouse kick to the two stunned soldiers, knocking their heads together. He plunged one blade into a Ghost's neck, swinging the other against the second Ghost's neck, severing the head from the body. Stepping into the abandoned medical bay, two Ghosts lay defenseless in their beds, fluid tubes pressed into their veins. Pulling them from their harnesses and Ivs, he carried them over his shoulder to the exit. Dashing nearly two hundred meters away from the facility, he saw a well-placed Arclite shell bring the medical bay to its knees as it collapsed under the explosive shell. Continuing to sprint toward the treeline, he dashed into the cover of the forest, resting the now-conscious soldiers against a tree. He smiled softly, the red glare in his iris now gone, strangely calmer. He sat down, resting quietly as the soldiers glanced curiously at the winded Malliard, and shrugged, and fell back asleep under the safety of the forest.
Location: Protoss Hospital Camp Perimeter Patrol
Planet: Dionide
Time: 12 May 2067, 1545 hrs.
A group of Protoss zealots marched in ranks around their assigned patrols, followed closely by a few Dragoon soldiers. With their Psi Blades online and plasma cannons fully charged, this lone patrol was ready to defend against even a medium-sized assault force. With several plasma turrets dug in and online, the defensive barrier was even more effective, in combination with a new prototype troop bunker for the Dragoons. The troop of soldiers stopped momentarily for a few visiting seismologists and geographers to take measurements on tectonic plate motion, and other relevant research. Seismographs were brought out, and the scientists began to dutifully conduct their research under the protective eye of the troops.
Unbeknownst to the troops guarding the scientists, a squad of snipers lay encamped roughly 500 yards out from the post. As the Marine snipers lay prone in the grass, raising their new model silenced rifles to their shoulders. Laser-sights painted the heads of the exposed Dragoons, the whole group unsuspecting of any enemy presence. A crew of Ghost scouts, approximately 12 or 13 soldiers, began to move from a forward tactical base almost 1000 meters away from the central facility. Quickly making their way through the underbrush a nearby band of forest. Snaking there way through the surrounding cornfields, they stopped abruptly as the field stopped, blending into open pastures and farmland. Ducking low, they kicked on the stealth generators, crawling prone through the 100 meters of lowlands. Holding their positions, out of range of the plasma cannons and visual acquisition, they signaled to the snipers to commence fire, and began their charge to the post ahead, silenced pistols and sub-machineguns armed. Rifle reports sounded one after another, spurts of blood spraying out from the Dragoon's bodies. The scientists dove for cover in the few seconds to snipers took to reload, but the Ghosts were already there, opening fire at the overwhelmed force. The snipers were keeping the scientists and Zealots pinned down, and the Ghosts actively taking them down with the machine pistols and SMGs. Bullet salvos were fired in sequence. When the snipers took the time to reload the Ghosts would re- open fire, continuing to pin down the broken Dragoon and Zealot forces. As the SMGs ran down on ammunition, side-arms were drawn, and the Ghosts charged, bullets flying over the cornered force, blood, hydraulic fluid, and cryostasis liquids were flying through the air, staining the crop fields.
With a roar, a troop of Vultures entered the fray, concussion grenades firing into the holed up Zealots, and the few remaining Dragoons. One Vulture, flaming and primed to detonate, was abandoned almost at the bunker, and careened into it in a raging fireball. The roaring engines of an approaching Reaver squadron overwhelmed the bloodcurdling screams of the Protoss emanating from the bunker. Fleeing Vultures were caught between fire from their own snipers and the suppressive fire of the Reaver squadron. The Ghosts were overwhelmed by the sudden reinforcements and fled, opening fire with C-10 canister rifles and side arm pistols as they hastily retreated. The sudden roar of plasma engines drowned out the Terran call for help as three Corsair fighters and an Observer moved in on their position. The Corsairs took aim at the now-uncloaked Ghosts, their plasma cannons decimating the small force almost instantaneously. The snipers began to open fire on the hovering Corsairs; a lucky sniper shot knocking out ones rear rudder, sending it plummeting to the ground in a spin. The snipers tossed down the discharged sniper rifles and removed SMG rifles from their side arm holsters, randomly spraying down cover fire as the earth-shaking explosions rocked the battlefield. The cheers of the Marines and few remaining Ghosts accompanied the whir of hydraulic lifters reached the battlefield. Charging Goliath mechanized walkers were followed overhead by three Valkyrie-class missile frigates. H.A.L.O missiles streaked through the air towards the absconding Corsairs, the Valkyries were in hot pursuit, a flood of missiles tailing the Corsairs back to their helipad. The last of the Corsairs impacted with the ground in a blood red orb of flame. As the Valkyries assaulted the fleeing Corsairs, the charging Goliath's had stormed the Protoss bunker under a fierce layout of fire. Bullets impacted against the reinforced Plexiglas composite and the reinforced titanium hull. Ricochet was flying everywhere as the Goliath's plundered the bunkers, their Vulcan auto cannons and RPGs jolting the Protoss within their bunkers. A squadron of dropships lowered several platoons of Elite Special Forces Marines, which entered the subterranean bunker array. Headlights activated and safeties off, they entered enemy territory.
Shifting their view constantly from left to right, watching for the notorious floor and wall traps, the Marine platoon entered the hostile territory of the subterranean bunker facility, darkened by the blackout caused by the raid. The large Marine force was in territory they had no recon for, let alone any idea of what forces were remaining and what was booby-trapped. Moving cautiously through the facility, they were only obeying orders. Scour the bunkers for any data on Sergeant Malliard, the POW located in this quadrant. The SAR team, followed by its technical expert squad, the ragtag team of computer specialists, slowly traces their steps through the facility. A careful Marine caught a barely audible clang of metal, and motioned for his comrade's to turn about and watch their rear. A Marine cocked back the gas-launched grenade launcher on his C-14 Impaler and braced the assault rifle against his shoulder, with an audible hiss, a fuze grenade clattered down the hallway, and the Marines took cover within their suits as a large explosion filled the corridor. Four Dragoons, two heavily damaged, popped around the corner, plasma cannons firing. The flag trooper quickly brought up a prototype energy shield, activating it with a whir as the blue energy bolts impacted of the riot shield. Marines in the front opened fire in echelon formation, people out of ammo or wounded moving to the back for fresher reinforcements. The large force quickly over took the enemy force, and they slowly continued forward, stepping over the smoldering remains of the Dragoons. A long hallway stretched out before them, although dark, four blue torched burned at the end of the tunnel. In a quick flash of light, the blue orbs were dashing forward, accompanied by four long staffs of energy. A trooper called out to his fell troopers "Zealots!" and they opened fire. The grenades and bullets impacted off the armored troopers, but a Ghost target the charging Protoss with his Canister rifle, smashing the Zealot troopers into pieces. Pieces of flesh and metal burned in the corridor, lighting their way down the corridor. When the company reached the bend at the end of the tunnel, opening the access hatch on the first bunker, they were blinded by sudden natural light flooding in from the bunker rifle slits. With a metallic click, they heard the reinforced blast door close behind them, blocking the only exit. The soldier's could hear a stifled whir as a small motor activated, a large blast door opening to their right, and four undamaged Dragoons stepped out into the bunker. With a hum, the Dragoons' plasma cannons kicked in, and the Marines dove for cover amid ricocheting blaster fire. Bullets impacted against the Psionic shielding as the Marines returned fire. Two Ghosts, cloaked and hiding, charged the assaulting troopers, bringing their Kevlar combat knives to bear on the attacking Dragoons. Slicing across their main hydraulics line, a spurt of blue cryostasis and hydraulic fluid spray into the air, splashing into the Ghosts' lenses. With a low chuckle and a smile, one of the Ghosts spat on the smoldering carcasses of the Dragoons, and with a low sigh, the blast door blocking their exit opened, and they resumed their search throughout the channels uneventfully. A company commander and his squad leaders sat for a moment to rest, and discussed their mission amongst themselves.
"Commander, what exactly are we doing in these bunkers?" Questioned the Blue Squad Leader.
"Upper brass has sent us grunts on a reconnaissance and intelligence mission. In that base to our north..." The commander motioned toward the still unprepared hospital prison, "...lies a Terran prisoner. We are ordered to take the facility by a combination of force and stealth, and detain our comrade and escort him home."
"This large an assault force for one sole prisoner?" The Green Squad Leader inquired.
"I'm not quite sure of the reasoning myself, son. But I was told he was a medical detainee and requires removal to a Terran facility."
The soldiers shrug and continued their trudge to the hospital, hoping to breach the underground entrance while forces move to the top to defend against the coming siege.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------
Running quickly through the halls of the facility, brushing by a few bewildered scientists, a Protoss security officer was rushing through the halls, carrying a ream of paper in his arms. His mad dash knocked several researchers and technicians over. Bounding into the security office without announcing himself, he stood before the watch commander.
"Sir! Terran forces assaulting rearguard Omega perimeter. They decimated the security line and breached the fence to the facility!"
The watch commander narrowed his eyes at the private, and sent him off, sounding the alarum for battle stations. In a flurry of lab coats and armor, scientists evacuated themselves to the safety of the blast shelters and the soldiers made their way to the plasma cannon batteries.
Following the rush of the lab coats and charging armor, three cloaked Ghosts tagged behind the rush of Protoss, hurrying toward the nearest exit. The ground shook suddenly, and the stampeding Protoss tumbled over each other in chaos. Explosive shells were detonating on the armored walls of the facility, but were shredding the worn armor quickly. Concentrating his thermal goggles in the direction of the blast, he saw the signature of a siege tank, and the troop hurried their pace toward the exit on their maps. Stepping out into the open field beyond the first blast door, two well- placed sniper shots disabled the other two Ghosts. Malliard stopped in his tracks and raised his hands up. Obviously whoever was shooting either knew they were coming or had detectors out. Glacning quickly, he saw a few Marines nearby moving toward him, firing sporadically at charging Protoss forces, which were quickly gunned down. Two medics tended to the wounded Ghosts, a soldier holding his side arm pistols to their heads.
"You two are under arrest under Protectorate Doctrine 8A; deserting the scene of the battle, and recieve a designation of absent without leave. Also, you are charged under Doctrine 12E; failing to obey orders from higher command, and Doctrine 43T; causing the accidental or purposeful death of a fellow soldier."
The MP officer read him them their rights as members of the armed forces, and carried them off on the stretchers. Malliard glanced off to his left and saw a line of disarmed Protoss marching toward a makeshift prisoner's camp. Curiously, he saw the siege tanks continuing to shell the facility. Shrugging, he looked back to the CSM (command sergeant major) in charge of this detachment, and smiled coyly.
"Sir..." Malliard saluted to the superior enlisted man, "...those two indeed caused the death of the Lieutenant, and forced me out of the camp. I assumed they were following under the orders of my corps commander, as they had stated, and followed them as requested."
The CSM nodded nonchalantly and motioned towards a waiting dropship. Boaring the vessel, they lifted off and sped toward the tactical base 30km distant.
Looking down, Malliard could see the destruction this lone battalion had caused. Burning hulks of stacked yellow armor and death Zealots littered the battlefield. Onyl a few Terrans lie dead or wounded on the field, and most had already been retrieved by the medical corps. A construction battalion was laying charges on a nearby series of bunkers, and with a resonating detonation they went up in a column of flame. Soon, the dropship landed in a makeshift airbase, and he was escorted off of the vehicle by two overly aggresive MPs. He reached a nearby barracks, and was tossed quite careslessly into a barren room without any furnishings over then a wooden bench and a pillow.
Quickly, a door opened from the wall and a surly major general stepped into the room. Malliard quickly rose to salute the officer, and he motioned for him to sit. Quickly, the walls changed a deep, almost crimson, shade of red around him, and the major general pulled his sidearm, placing it to Malliard's head.
"Under executive order 82 of the Protectorate Marines Doctrine of Law, I have been ordered to execute you on the grounds of treason and espionage. Also, under executive order 32, I have been orderer to execute you under authority of the Adjutant of the Marine Corps for the protection of our sovereignty and our respective miltaries. If you have anythign you wish to say before you are executed, your request is denied."
In Malliard's mind, those words were spoken in a slow, monotonous, droning voice, stretching out the syllables of every word. With each spoken word his anger grew, his eyes narrowing, the veins pulsing as they grew bloodshot, the iris tinting to an eerie bright red, and his arm shot out, diving under the extended gun arm of the major general. He squeezed on the cartoid artery, and pulled down sharply, cutting off the blood flow away from his head. He fell to the floor instantly, unconscious.
A rush of rage and aversion coursed through his veins, his blood red hot. He charged at the bolted door, and with a sharp crack, the lock splintered and fell from the door. A surprised duo of MPs looked up, guns trained on Malliard. He charged towards toward the MPs, dodging their spurts of bullets in a zigzagged roll. He took the soldiers by their heads and crashed their skulls together, both men bleeding freely from their scalp, lying unconscious. Malliard retrieved his confiscated Psi blades as well as the MPs sub-machineguns. He chuckled to himself and bolted toward the exit, rushing past startled MPs who senselessly fired after Malliard. Malliard grin maniacally and turned on his heel, charging two more guards, knocking them to their asses with sharp blows his his elbows. He quickly squeezed the triger to his SMGs, three-round-spurts of bullets emptying the MPs chests. He let out a demented laugh as he charged straight into the guard post, and quickly cut down the surprised guards with his Psi blades. Blood splattered the safety glass, and a nearby guard sounded the alarm before Malliard put a bullet in his head. Typing quickly onto the nearby computer console, he located the triage bay and cut open the door with his Psi blades. Quickly dashing towards the east wing of the facility, he was blockaded by a row of MPs sporting riot shields and C-14 rifles. Quickly opening fire on the stunned Malliard, their bullets bounced at his feet as he dashed towards the wall, scaling the high wall, running sideways across the wall, leaping nimbly across the riot shields. Before the bulky armored troopers could turn around, he quickly put three round-bursts of bullets into their heads, the bodies slumping over agaisnt the shields, the floor a river of blood. A mad chuckle parted his lips and he continued his charge towards the medic bay. Three ghosts sporting prototype plasma sabers; Terran mock-ups of the Protoss Psionic blades, charged the suprised Malliard.
Dropping his SMGs, he activated the more reliable and powerful Psi blades. Parrying the charging Ghosts' attacks, he spun on his heels, crouched low, cutting the lead Ghost's legs out from under him. With a cry of pain, he fell to the floor, defenseless as Malliard plunged the blade into his chest. Flying sparks diverted Malliard's attention back to the fight as he saw a raised saber swing downard at his head. Dashing backwards quickly, the Ghost's blade sliced the dead soldier in half vertically, the two parts falling away. Laughing maniacally, he continued to parry to attacks. As the soldiers brought their blades to bear on Malliard, he caught them in his own two blades, and lept into the air, placing a roundhouse kick to the two stunned soldiers, knocking their heads together. He plunged one blade into a Ghost's neck, swinging the other against the second Ghost's neck, severing the head from the body. Stepping into the abandoned medical bay, two Ghosts lay defenseless in their beds, fluid tubes pressed into their veins. Pulling them from their harnesses and Ivs, he carried them over his shoulder to the exit. Dashing nearly two hundred meters away from the facility, he saw a well-placed Arclite shell bring the medical bay to its knees as it collapsed under the explosive shell. Continuing to sprint toward the treeline, he dashed into the cover of the forest, resting the now-conscious soldiers against a tree. He smiled softly, the red glare in his iris now gone, strangely calmer. He sat down, resting quietly as the soldiers glanced curiously at the winded Malliard, and shrugged, and fell back asleep under the safety of the forest.