Disclaimer: Please read disclaimer at beginning of first three chapters.
Blue Dragon X: Thanks for the review, and thanks for writing "Fantasy Thunder." A while back, tell me if/when you'll do a sequel.
BTW, sorry for the long wait, but I made this action-packed chappy extra long for your reading enjoyment.
Final Fantasy XIII
Nobody likes the Savannah of the northern east continent. Red-orange soot formed a self-grown carpet from Kenro to the Muspell plateau, from the Middle Ocean to the Wyrm Mountains. Sure, since this is a Savannah and not a pure desert, life is abundant, but even they look like they've seen better days. Reedy bushes and shrubs make up for the sparse population of trees that on average, can be as far as 40 miles apart from each other.
Chocobos in the area took on a dirty brown color for their environment, and were much more feral than their cooler climate cousins. Their animosity was drawn from days without food or water. This didn't stop them from falling prey to the nimble Cactuars, who used the flightless birds as their nourishment.
Of course, the Black Cactuar Mercenaries thought nothing of this harsh Eco-system's cycle as, while mounted on nine of their own tamed Chocobos, charged south across the desert plain to kick off their so-called "Suicide Mission."
Goran, Roan, and Emilene and their Chocobo mounts flanked Cid as they sprinted across the afternoon desert. As hard as the sun beat down on their more winter-hardened persons, the wind in the faces of the part-time warriors provided adequate arctic substitute for them as the temperature reached it's 100 degree mark.
"The Niobe River Delta's just ahead boys and girls!" Cid shouted over the collective footsteps of the birds. "Here comes the hard part!"
"Hard part? I don't like the sound of that!" Goran shouted back at the jived El-Tee. He didn't hear him, but Goran would have had felt some mutual fear if he had known that Cid would have indeed agreed with him.
There was a noise of thunder that quickly drowned out what little skepticism there was...
Over a craggy hilltop was truly a sight to behold on any soldier's tour of duty. What were once just traces of smoke over the horizon proved just to be hair growing from the head that was a battlefield.
There at the foot of the hill, a two-mile wide collective of islands forming a heavily sunlit marsh in the middle of the Savannah separated opposing sides of the war zone. To the west was a rocky, sand lined river, with life seemingly growing out of the water's edge and onto the banks as many as 20 meters inland.
To the east of the delta was an ocean cluttered with two dozen warships, randomly firing between each other as enemy lines soon mixed in together, forming a confusing melee as cannons fired seemingly at totally randomized trajectories. For all the Cactuars knew, the enemies may have been fighting amongst themselves rather than against each other.
On the north side of the swampland, the Kenrovian Fighting 74th Infantry division, despite it's brutal artillery barrage against the Muspelis the morning earlier, were getting hammered three times as hard as their neighbors to the South. 100-meter wide craters coated with glass, which for many centuries was sand until a matter of weeks ago, or days...Or even hours ago. Molten slag lay within these craters, whether they were swords, rifles, parts of cars or tanks, or even pack howitzers, were left entirely up to the imagination of casually observing newcomers, for they were so severely melted, no one could tell what they were.
On the South edge of the Delta, the Muspeli seemed to sit idly by as their opponents were getting hammered by a virtually invisible enemy, an enemy that dropped a blob of radiant green energy randomly on the frontlines with devastating precision.
This slab of "Solid Energy" vaporized an artillery column at the outermost edge of the line. Goran could make out men's outlines before a great green flash enveloped the column and replaced the land with black glass.
In a horrific twist, the temperature generated by the "shell" was so high, that once the artillery pieces had liquefied, steam emanated from the blob-like hulks... Wait! That's not steam! The titanium making up the cannons was turning from liquid into gas. The superheated titanium spread slowly across the field and scarred the earth beneath it, any men it even came near, let alone contacted, burst into flames, as well as tents on the front. They didn't even need to breathe the burning cloud to be destroyed, merely get in close quarters with it.
"This here's the hard part folks!" Cid warned as his Chocobo slowed in fear. "Follow me west, we's gonna try to cross away from enemy lines!"
The Chocobo train took a tight veer to the left as they approached the marsh. They couldn't afford to make a 'suicide charge' real suicide, so they would sprint lengthwise across the rear flank of friendly lines before crossing the next river ford.
To his side, Roan could see many a man in Safari like gear as they charged from place to place, spreading orders and reports throughout the confusing battlefield. Orders that seemed contradictory from equal ranking officers further hampered the efficiency of the Kenrovians as a rain of thunder continued to fall out of the sky.
Emilene grimaced as many a scream was cut short by additional shelling from across the marsh. Explosives and shrapnel sent dirt flying for a solid 50 meters, even splashing on her skin and shorts. She was half expecting a burnt chunk of metal shrapnel to have severed several vital arteries by now. Of course, self preservation and determination took higher priority than fear, so she hugged her Chocobo mount for dear life as Yates, riding right at her side, guided her and her mount across the battlefield.
As the number of soldiers thinned, so did the shelling, but the three heroes were no less scared for their lives. The Black Cactuars provided no comfort, but they all knew they had a mission, and so they mushed their chocobos forward until the last waypoint long disappeared behind them. Even as the last soldier disappeared over the horizon, The squad could still see hot, green, flashes burst like lightning before their very eyes. It was then that Cid came to a halt, and with him, the entire force. Right there, were a series of ancient stones carved out of the riverbed, still jutting out of the current.
"We's crossing over here kids." He indicated the stony bank. "Time to drink big guys." He ordered the Chocobos.
Without warning, all the Chocobos jumped out of line and set foot in the river. Goran almost lost his balance and bobbed awkwardly as his mount bent it's long neck over and dipped its beak in the river. He could clearly see its beak rapidly open and shut and it's throat expand and contract as it took in precious life enriching water from the wide river.
Of course, Goran was the lucky one, Roan's Chocobo was even more exhausted than its friends. It waded deeper into the river than it's comrades.
"Whoa hey, not so deep. Get back to the shore." Roan vainly tugged at the reins on his mount.
Once the Chocobo's legs had completely submerged into the stream, it bent it's legs... And had a seat in the torrent for a long overdue cooldown, dunking Roan to his chest in the river.
"Dammit you overgrown Ostrich get me out of here!" He complained as he tugged even harder than before.
It was for naught, he ignored the Gun-wielding pre-adult and dunked his head in the Niobe for a sip.
"I warned the bloody fellow that GONK wasn't in as good shape as the others." Nigel mused. "Never go with the first one you see I always say."
"Like the first door you opened at the Radio tower at the Wyrm Mountains?" Cid mused on an earlier mission.
"That was some freakin' luck you had there findin' us an escape chopper." Rickles said in memory of the near failed mission.
"That was different!"
Emilene couldn't care less about the argument at hand, she tugged on her Chocobo's reins and followed Roan's mount: GONK into the slow waters. Roan hadn't even tried to swim away from his bird but bobbed gently on and off his saddle as his own weight tried to stay strong against the current. He looked over his shoulders as a swishy, splashing noise caught his ears. He saw Emilene and her Chocobo wading into the river after him. The silver haired girl held out her hand to the pre-adult, offering him a ride back to shore.
"Hey, it looks like you could use a lift out of there."
"No shit, this guy's acting like he lived in a frying pan his whole life!" He complained as the Chocobo rapidly shook it's wet head, splashing more water onto Roan as he sat in the water.
"Then just leave him up to his business and get on, FLOD here has room enough for two more." She indicated her mount.
Roan grabbed her hand and pulled himself onto the Chocobo's side.
"Is that a weird way of telling me I'm fat?" He mockingly answered.
She giggled the tan man made room for himself behind her. He stopped for a second to shake out one of his ammo bandoleers.
"Wark!" FLOD said before gently pecking at GONK's neck. "Waark Wark!" He said as if warning the other creature.
"Wark, Waark!" It finished with an annoyed hiss. The gesture sent FLOD on his way back to shore.
"Hey, what do you think you're doin' comin' back here?" Cid shouted out as Roan and Emilene noisily emerged from the river. "We want to get to the other side of the river!"
"Damn it!" Roan whispered, not wanting to get soaked again.
"Let's get a move-on KLUG!" Private Steele tugged on his mount's reins as he still drank. "You can come back here once we get camp set up!"
His beast of burden finally responded as it jumped a few feet into the air and nearly knocked the football player off his saddle.
"Hey Steele, I think KLUG could use a few more sips, we'll meet up later!" Tex advised as his Chocobo: GRAU, led the Southerner across the Stepping stones of the Niobe.
"We won't go that far behind the bank, we'll set up a nice campfire before we do any scoutin' 'kay?" Steele's sidekick, Rickles insured.
"Come on you dumb F&ck! Get a move-on!" Steele warned his mount.
"Word of advice Private..." Nigel warned, "Respect your Chocobo, or he'll kick your ass."
"Word of advice Sergeant." Rickles warned. "Don't say that to a caveman who's a 3-time winner of Annual Chocobo wrestling contests in Kalevala."
"You learn something new every day Rickles." He looked at Goran, Roan, and Emilene, still mounted on their two Chocobos, not really doing anything.
"Chaps, go on ahead, the rest of us will cover the rear as you cross." Nigel ordered.
"Sorry sir." Goran said as he tugged the reins and sent himself across the river.
"And Roan old chap, don't worry about GONK, or the other Chocobos for that manner, they can find their way back home." Nigel added.
"You mean we're giving them up?" Goran's surprise was none too pleasant.
"We'll need to be a tad more stealthy if we're going to find the 'Phantom Train.' Their noisiness will just give us away every time we go covert." He explained. "Once we set up camp, they're heading straight for home."
"How will we get back to Kenro when the mission's over?" Goran asked worried.
"We'll figure that out once we arrive in Muspell, in the meantime, just get across the desert, we've got a call of duty ahead of us." He indicated the river and the desert beyond.
"Now cross chap, we haven't got all day!" He reiterated his orders.
"Yes Sergeant." He said complacently. "Gidyap." He ordered his Chocobo.
The flightless bird stood and stretched upwards from its rest. It took a powerful step forward off the bank of the river. It seemed to bounce across the River's rocks as it skipped its way to the southern bank, following it's three comrades that have already crossed.
There was only a gentle splash as the Chocobo slightly lost it's footing and nearly slid itself into the river. Fortunately, the graceful animal was well enough coordinated to keep nothing more than its toes from sliding under the water. The bird maintained it's balance and continued to jump across the stream, as it's other six friends followed it.
With the bank cleared, and the sun now on the western side of the sky, the gang continued their trek across the Red sooted sands of the Savannah. Unlike the marshy plot that grew around the Niobe Delta, the landscape around the team was unscarred by war and free of pestilence. Though the latter came from the short supply of plants considered edible to most destructive insects.
A pair of small tan moogles flapped their little wings to fly to the group. The social creatures were prone to loneliness of the outback setting of the environment. Emilene, who couldn't help but notice the eagerness of the furry, white critters and smiled.
She tugged on FLOD's reins.
"Alright, slow down FLOD, we're getting some new passengers!" She tugged tighter until the bird was down to a walk, watching as it's collective went off ahead of it.
"Get on guys, I don't bite." She indicated the furballs.
The first Moogle hovered over and slowly landed in front of her lap, or what would be her lap if her legs weren't kept separate by the way she was sitting on the saddle. The second moogle took it's position on Emilene's shoulder and made a quiet cooing noise. This made Emilene smile, taking her mind off the sun that was no longer overhead, but to her side. She took a moment to carefully lift her left arm and scratch the belly of shoulder mounted creature, working her way across the furry stomach and up to it's fuzzy chin and throat. It happily exposed it's chin, sticking it's head in the air for the unorthodox massage.
Emilene took her right arm and made sure the other moogle would be satisfied with a nice rubbing of the head. A rattling purr echoed out of the moogle's throat, it was pleased to be treated to such generosity.
Emilene suddenly stopped and frowned, she gently pushed both moogle's off, raising her shoulder to encourage one to fly off and then picking up the other and letting it fly off the Chocobo.
It would be dusk in an hour or two, and the group was getting way ahead of her as their shapes got smaller and smaller on the horizon. She turned her smile back into a grin and looked at the confused moogles.
"It was nice to pet you, but I have to go. Take care." She waved with one hand as she tugged the reins with the other. FLOD took a few steps forward to let his rider adjust and then broke into a run after 5 steps. The moogles watched curiously as the short-time pet owner rode away into the distance.
They decided to continue their quest for edible insects after she disappeared into the horizon...
With the sun down, the Savannah had come to life. What was once windy silence has been replaced with the call of crickets and nocturnal birds. Desert dwelling lizards had emerged from the Earth as though it had bore them itself, ready to feed on those crickets. The Chocobos and Cactuars had rearranged their priorities and gone into hiding, rewarding themselves with sleep for surviving the day.
The only Cactuars still awake were the arbitrary "squad" we have been following all this time. The gang had their backs to a hollowed out tree, long since dead from abuse by its termite inhabitants that abandoned it so long ago. Roan cooked a marshmallow on a stick up close to the fire, wedged between the hulking Steele and Rickles, as everyone else relaxed, and Private Yates was nowhere to be seen, having been sent to scout before a fire had even been made. Using the dried up branches that rotted naturally off the dead trunk, the 8 men and one young woman had started a camp fire to spend the next few hours around before heading right into enemy territory. They wanted to wait until they were certain every base within a hundred miles was asleep and inactive. The real challenge however, was staying awake themselves at that dark hour.
Emilene and Goran's crimson eyes gazed vacantly at the starlit sky. Since they were 5 and 8 respectively, they had never laid eyes on the inky white dotted sky at night. Storms in Aleuma were nightly occurrences, and since they moved to Port Eric and later to Aleuma, they never got to see what the sky looked like at night.
"You ever try counting them?" Nigel pondered aloud to the siblings.
"What?" Goran slipped out of his trance.
"The stars lad." Nigel iterated.
"...Too much work." He grunted before attempting to return appreciating the distant giants.
"But have you even tried boy?" Cid asked, not that he was interested, but wanted to make conversation.
"I haven't seen stars since I left Kalevala." He answered. "When Mom died, Dad wanted to go out and see the world, he settled for Port Eric until his time came."
"Wait a sec... You're from Kalevala?" Cid leaned to his side, having lost his interest in the first subject.
"Our Mother was secretary to the Leonidan State Minister." Emilene filled in.
She hesitated before continuing.
"She was killed by some Apartheidists when they tried to bomb the State Minister's car in the Capital: Kalevala..." She lowered her head. "...They say whoever did the bombings was trying to prevent stable race relations with the Wolfen population..."
"You guys were around during the race riots?" Cid asked tactlessly.
"Whoa, Cid, I don't think they-" Tex warned his commander before Goran interrupted.
"Well, the bombing itself didn't kill our mother, she was hospitalized less than an hour later and was in a coma for a day and a half..." He groaned before continuing.
"Someone found a reason and strength to throw a concrete block through her first floor window."
"...Well... That sure is gay ain't it?" He surmised.
"You were always one for tactfulness el-tee." Tex ad-libbed as he produced a flask of gin from his belt.
"Its not like that alone makes you a good officer." Goran said.
"Say what?" Cid didn't really take kindly to Goran's words.
"Sure, I know what Drill sergeants are like and all, I don't need to see one in person to know their jerks, but you really have to work on your demeanor. I don't know how these guys respect you with all your jive-talking and how you've been able to outrank old man English over here." He indicated Nigel.
"Hey, that's only because he used to be a Major, foo'!" Cid insisted.
"I'm ashamed to say what happened." Nigel said with a plain but straight face. "It's a long story."
"And another thing..." Goran continued. "How come you don't have a gun, what kind of soldier, let alone an officer, goes into battle empty-handed?"
The other four Cactuars looked at Goran, a little confused for a second, but then only shrugged.
Cid raised his hands revealing he was wearing black leather gloves with steel linings going over the areas on the finger bones stopping at the fingernails. Small, bolt-like knobs protruded ever so slightly from the metal linings, to provide extra pressure whenever it's wearer, Cid, decided to bust some heads with them.
"Guns are noisy enough when other people fire them kid, and swords are just too messy. These two hands are just fine and dandy with me." The Lieutenant defended.
"Wow, those things look like they'd hurt a lot!" Emilene exclaimed at the sight of the twin gloves.
"Oh don't be ridiculous girl, my hands are always safe with the shock-absorbers these little guys have." Cid corrected.
The two teens looked at the el-tee with disbelief.
"There are shock absorbers in there?" Emilene couldn't see how they'd fit in the thin gloves.
"Funny thing, the glove itself is the shock absorber, made from some secret Ryu plastic-metal hybrid that those guys keep to themselves along with pretty much all the world's secrets."
"Those were made by Ryu? Aren't they supposed to be like, isolationist or something?" Emilene was really surprised now.
"That's the thing, they's just isolationist, not xenophobic. There is a difference other than spelling between those two words, y'know."
"So you're saying you got these from them yourself?" Goran probed further.
"I used to do a lot of interspecies wrestling east of here in Yggdrasil before I returned home to join the Army. Those guys make a lot of custom shit, so I asked for these gloves as part of my wrestling costume..." He paused. "Those sure were the days."
He turned his attention back to the stars with glassy eyes.
"Just don't eat their Sylkis Spices, shit, my tongue couldn't taste a thing for days." He shuddered and changed the subject.
"I don't know about you, but no difference in body chemistry can make me believe those guys can down one of those things, let alone the 3 dozen the guy in the table next to me ate." He added.
Down by the fire, Steele and Rickles flanked Roan by his right and left respectively as he roasted a marshmallow on a stick like a good little camper. The two hulks were pestering the messy-haired man with questions since the fire had started, and their brutish but sarcastic demeanor put Roan in no position to object.
"How does a little old stick like you carry that big bad belt-fed, huh?" Steele said as he practically sneered the question about Roan's gun out of his mouth.
"I bet he can do it cuz' he's psychic, hey, try calling him some of your names Steele, I bet he'll light you on fire like a Wolfen at a lynch mob!" Rickles said in vulgar speculation.
Steele let out a high-pitched monkey-like laughter, almost psychotic in nature, save for it's relatively quiet tone.
"Even better, you try it Rickles! I'll be able to see what he does, and then I'll tell you once I put you out."
They both laughed, though Rickles' laughter was considerably creepier."Y'know, I haven't said a word to either of you two since we sat down here, and I intend to keep that going. So if you didn't come over here to roast marshmallows with me, you can go back and piss off your own buddies." Roan warned.
"Hey, pestering our squad got us down a rank before, and I can't go any lower than Private." Rickles eagerly corrected Roan.
"I used to be a Sergeant Major 'til I started shooting stuff other than the crap on the targeting range." Steele added.
"Hey, you should have figured out that Captain Rhodes might have needed that spare tire for his jeep." Rickles reminded him.
"Ah, the guy's a dumb f%ck anyway, I bet he hasn't gotten over it yet."
"After 9 years... You're probably right." Rickles threw in his two cents.
"All done." Roan whispered as he removed the crispy white blob from the searing heat.
It peeled off when another stick, commandeered by Rickles, jabbed into it's gooey inside and pulled it onto his own stick. He giggled and immediately ate the white blob right off... The wood fragments and the searing heat notwithstanding. Steele and Roan both laughed.
"Rickles, I think there's something to that Karma bullshit after all." He laughed before Rickles grabbed enough composure to jab the PFC's left hand with the burnt end of the stick. Steele retracted it and dropped his own stick with a start.
"Aye! The hell was that for!?"
Rickles spit out the piping hot marshmallow.
"I just proved you right Steele, that's what that was for." He answered before breathing onto his hands to see if his breath had become too hot.
"There's a burglar in the mart!" A distant voice shouted, drawing everyone's attention to their right.
Cid grinned, he knew who it was.
"Right on time Yates... Right on time!"
True to his anticipation, the scrawny Private Neville Yates darted down a hillside through a patch of dried up brush and gracefully leaped over a large fallen branch to his Fire Team. In his left hand was a silenced Automatic pistol, and the other, a large, heavy looking brown leather duffel bag. These did nothing to weigh the scout down, or hinder his balance as he returned to his teammates with his Reconnaissance results.
"What's the word Yates? Is it lights out there yet?" Tex immediately interrogated while Cid got out of his seat.
"Now hold on a second Corporal, he didn't even say if he found any bases Tex, give the man some time to breathe first!" Cid instructed Tex.
"Quite the contrary sir!" He took two deep breaths. "Just one and a quarter kilometers South of here is a huge Muspeli camp. There are several bunkers and a pair of airstrips, not to mention tents as far as the eye can see. It's lights out time, so there's bound to be some useful intel we can pick up from there!" The Private summarized.
"And you guys said we was lost!" Cid mockingly replied to his underlings. "Steele, grab the other bag, and boy..." He indicated Roan. "Put that fire out. We's leavin'."
"Boy?" He said with a sneer. "I'm 20 for your information!"
"I rest my case."
"Don't argue with him Roan, we have a mission to carry out!" Goran cautioned his friend.
The tan-skinned warrior groaned and picked up his belongings.
True to his word, Yates led his squad to the enemy garrison in only 17 minutes. There, exactly as he described, was camp Tonberry. The Stronghold seemed to stretch all the way to the horizon, with the eastern side of the camp consisting primarily of as many as 1,500 makeshift tents the size of greenhouses with a brown-tan camouflage scheme. The other half of the stronghold was a permanent base, with wooden barracks and concrete-reinforced bunkers, not all of which were above ground. A large gap between the buildings, and a large radio tower, indicated the location of the twin cross-airstrips.
Needless to say, Camp Chocobo had nothing on this place...
"Merciful bitch Rickles, do you call that a 'camp?'" Steele worriedly examined the stronghold through his binoculars.
"Geez Steele... There's got to be a whole Brigade living there."
"A whole Brigade... How many men make up a Brigade anyway?" Emilene asked her brother.
"Ordinarily..." Cid answered on the swordsman's behalf. "...Four to five thousand."
"Four to five thousand?" Goran said barely suppressing an "eep."
"We can't all go in." Cid deduced. "Even with light's out, patrols are gonna be thick in there. Only a few of us can go inside."
"I realized that too sir." Said Yates adding his two cents. "So I already took the liberty of infiltrating the laundry room at the edge of the camp."
Yates put down the duffel bag he had carried back to the gang. He slowly pulled the zipper open, just to be on the safe side, and revealed the bag's contents... Four greenish-brown Muspeli soldiers' uniforms, with all standard desert warfare gear, and even three green circular caps with black sun block visors sticking out of the front, and Cid had his very own officer's cap.
"I found a size fitting myself, you Cid, Rickles, and our new friend Goran here."
"Why do I have to join you?" Goran questioned.
"You need to start throwing some of your weight around chap, I thought this would be the most prime opportunity." He answered.
"You can't be serious! Even if they see me in uniform, I'd never be able to be convincing, they'd know I'm a spy the very first minute I got in!" Goran objected.
"Oh I wouldn't be too sure of that dawg, I know the perfect Trojan horse tactic that'll leave those M-bastards none the wiser..." The small afroed man smirked.
"Tex, make with your malt liquor bottle and empty it most of the way. Everyone that Yates didn't get a uniform for: Follow Sergeant Nigel Southeast, according to the map, there will be a dirt road leading to a railroad crossing. Find handcart and bring it over there, then hide in the bushes, some auto patrols might be coming, and you can't expect it to be us, or you could find yourself in a world of hurt. Nigel's in charge until I get back. As for the people coming in with me... Anyone know the words to 'Cuz' I'm A Man?'"
The Sergeant and his second in command, a Corporal, were the only two guards posted at the Northeast entrance of the Northern Desert's Camp Tonberry. Having been charged with the duty of watching the easiest route into the base. They watched with unwavering vigor as the night passed them by, not the least bit interested in stargazing, and well aware of their duty.
Spies could not be allowed entry into the camp, the only instance that any enemy infiltration unit had successfully penetrated the walls, had already been detected before he left with any valuable information, he was captured and sent south to the Political Prison at Fort Dis. However, punishment did not cease at the demise of the intruder, all the guards charged with perimeter duty, including himself, had been rounded up and subjected to not only a -3 rank demotion, but subjected to fourteen uninterrupted hours of "disciplinary action."
The Sergeant shuddered and paused to look down at his two off-colored thumbs, since their original dismemberment was undone using ground Ryu horn powder and some cure spells to regenerate the lost extremities. Unfortunately, their condition was brought on by long since infected stubs, which not only made the replacements discolored, but the new digits were not as flexible, and went numb frequently. Those interrogators were sick, but the Sergeant saw no reason to admit it, for it, as well as other actions carried out by the armed forces, had been standard military protocol for the 15 years that President Katarno had established his power.
His recollection of history was interrupted when 4 desert troopers, walking with their arms overlapping each other's shoulders, walked down the dirt road to the front gate. From right to left, the cadre consisted of a fat, balding black haired man with an unkempt beard, a scrawny mustachioed man with a red handkerchief bandana around his neck, a black officer with a small afro, and a young white-haired boy in his extremely late teens carrying a nearly empty glass bottle labeled: S'MORE SCHNAPPS.
The foursome were clearly drunken, they were dazedly singing some random country bumpkin song to no one in particular. The fat one even waved his hip once or twice at one of the high notes of the song they were chanting.
"Never wake up early in the morning..." They sang cheerfully.
"Don't get drunk till late at night."
"Don't believe in oooverworkin'."
"And I never treat a woooman right!"
"Cuz' I'm a man..."
"Cuz' I'm a man..."
"They're as drunk as monkeys." His subordinate pointed out the obvious.
"I like to be the center of attraction..." They suddenly stopped their song as the young soldier held out a bottle to the stern Sergeant.
"Take it now." The "drunk" officer ordered through a slew of giggling. "He ain't that generous when he's sober!"
The Noncom rudely confiscated the bottle out of the gray-haired Private's hand and placed it on the counter in his post.
"Run along you drunkards, I'll speak to the Colonels about your "liaison" in the morning." The Sergeant snarled.
"Maybe I can 'tell' him you've been pissing on camp grounds, Sergeant." The officer of the group countered.
The Sergeant said nothing, but his look was of grave irritation. He did nothing to stop the Tipplers entry into the base.
Little did he realize, he'd lose more than his thumbs next time...
Three minutes passed before the Perimeter guard and his crony were out of sight, the foursome's awkward stumble turned into a sprint off of the main road and in between two wooden barracks. The three Cactuars and Goran had now found a perfect spot to discuss their next move. They avoided huddling and unholstered their weapons of choice, except Cid, who was empty-handed.
"Time to split up boys." Cid started.
"Wait, where are we gonna find our info? I'm not really skilled enough to infiltrate any radio stations, and I have no idea what to look for!" Goran objected.
"You've got to be kidding!" Rickles covered his mouth, lined up with an amused grin.
"Cut him some slack Rickles, he's new to this." Yates warned his only equal in the Cactuars.
"Who said we were gonna look in them bunkers?" Said Cid. "We've got the less guarded crap right where we can walk in 24/7/52!"
"What kind of 'less guarded crap?'"
"Toilet paper." Yates whispered.
Goran couldn't believe his ears.
"...Toilet paper?" He repeated incredulously.
"Geez, what are you kid? A parrot?" Rickles said, now truly annoyed.
"You'll see sooner or later, now let's all break up and leave no stall unturned! When we've cleaned all the water closets, we're leaving, don't stop to pick up stragglers. You though Rickles, stay behind and hotwire one of the vehicles at the motor pool. Try to use one that's inconspicuous, like a command jeep, I don't think they're just gonna let anyone waltz out of here with a BFG Carrier tank." The Lieutenant summarized. "Picking up stragglers is your job Rickles, we're on our own otherwise."
"Way ahead of you El-tee." Rickles whispered before hastily saluting and leaving the group behind.
"Alright, now let's find ourselves some TP, remember, leave NO stall unturned." He reminded before he departed.
"Wait, you still haven't explained-
Goran was cut off as Yates grabbed his shoulder.
"Now's not the time for questions lad, just look for the toilet paper and get it over with!"
Then without so much as a "good luck," Yates hastily departed in the direction opposite of Cid.
"No one ever cuts me any breaks." He thought irritably.
He peeked back out to the road he took into the camp. There were only two barrack housings on the other side spaced pretty far apart, 25 yards in fact. In between and past them, a shack with a door with a crescent moon carved into it was positioned against a chain link fence. No soldiers were present on the straightforward path to the shack, and Goran saw no movement whatsoever in his peripheral vision. Remembering he was in enemy uniform, he slowly and casually strode the 15-yard route to the outhouse, which common sense had now dictated to our hero, was a bathroom. He slowed to a tip toeing pace however, when he noticed the distance between the two barracks provided a space for campfires, and that several burnt patches of ground could give away his presence if stepped on the wrong way...
(CRUNCH)
He froze on the spot... He saw that he had stepped on the charred gray remains of a former log.
No one rushed him... There was no ambush...
Silence...
He began to breathe again at last.
He continued his quick tip-toe-trek to the outhouse, a goal he reached in a matter of seconds.
He reached for the knob and hesitated again. What if someone was using the bathroom inside? Surely they'd notice trouble was brewing if he started searching through the commodes for TP.
He dwelled on the conundrum for three more seconds before formulating a legitimate excuse. It was then that the stall door creaked open and the false Private slid through, quietly shutting the portal behind him.
Goran's composure eased when he saw the dark room, the light was sufficient enough to see that aside from a sink and a strategically positioned mirror just across from him, to the left, three wooden stalls concealed working toilets ready for use. He sprinted across the plain concrete floor to the first, already open stall. He was disappointed almost imminently, for while the toilet was clean and essentially "healthy to look at" the toilet paper roll was empty. It still bugged him as to what the significance of such "luxuries" posed strategically to the mission at hand.
He shrugged, figuring Cid would tell him later, and moved to the next stall. That door too, was open, but this time, hanging from the roll by a thin rope, were a cluster of multi-colored papers ready for "wiping up."
He lunged for the roll and removed it from its handlebar without factoring in the angered man behind him.
Goran was violently grabbed on his shoulder and spun about face to meet a surprisingly young Colonel, an unfeeling looking man with blonde hair and intimidating blue eyes. Judging by the less than happy Corporal behind him, the Brigade commander had come for a late-night dump, and had not wanted to deal with the possibility of intruders while by himself.
"What are you doing with this?" He sternly raised the hand Goran held the "toilet paper" with.
"It's for my Captain!" He lied. "He has dysentery!"
"Your mouth says yes-yes, but my fist says no-no." He cruelly joked as he pulled back his arm to leverage a punch to Goran's face.
Goran clenched his eyes closed just before a hard thwack came from behind the Colonel. There was no punch and for a fraction of a second, Goran thought he'd passed out until he opened his eyes to see the Colonel looking away from him at the black-bearded bald lug that stood before a now unconscious Corporal on the floor. Taking advantage of the distraction, Goran raised his own fist and as the Colonel turned back to his hostage. He was met with the swiftest uppercut he had ever experienced, and let go of Goran, spinning back and landing flat on his face like his Corporal, whom also happened to be lined side-by-side with his superior.
"These guys sure go to a lot of trouble over toilet paper." Goran stated the obvious as Rickles ran into the third stall for some more of the TP.
"You have no idea." Rickles retorted as he emerged from the stall with the goods.
"I've got a ride, let's get goi-
He paused mid-sentence and looked down upon the two enemy soldiers.
"Just a second." The Private said with a raised index finger.
Laying down the objects in hand, Rickles took the Colonel's right hand, and the Corporal's left and outstretched them, placing them on the buttocks of the opposite soldier.
"Hehehe..." The perverted Private giggled.
"You're really creepy, y'know."
"I've gotten better!" He defended.
Outside, the Swordsman and the balding Private hustled past several desert weathered jeeps until they came across a convertible jeep that looked like something made in the 40's. It was a large jeep, with enough elbowroom for a group of seven. It was almost perfect for the next phase of the mission.
"Nice pick, wouldn't you say?"
"Not really." Goran threw in his opinion.
"Well, tough, I already have her hot-wired."
Goran added no further objections to his list of complaints as he jumped shotgun. Rickles pulled back the plastic flap on the steering wheel support and then tugged on a wire. With no keys, he was still able to start the engine.
"Everyone's already at the RV point, Cid and Yates flew the coop already."
"That was fast." Goran surmised.
"Well, they said it's because they overheard that these army goons had just received some real toilet paper." Rickles informed.
"What do you mean real?" He asked, now even more confused with this recent escapade.
"I'll show you once the sun's bright enough." He promised.
Rickles pressed the gas pedal and the jeep pulled out of it's parking space and passed the neglectful night watchman. By the end of next week, the Colonel of the 54th Infantry Brigade, and four enlisted men were never seen or heard from again.
"My shirt's getting caught in so many places on this brush." Emilene silently whined.
"Shh, those two standing in the middle of the road might not be the gang we sent." Tex warned the teenage girl.
Of course, Nigel and Steele, standing only 12 feet away, were conversing with the two "Muspeli" men in plain sight. Dawn was only minutes away, and while Muspeli and Kenrovian uniforms were difficult to discern even from a scant few inches away in the dark. Roan, Emilene, and Tex weren't taking the chance just yet that the two newcomers were in actuality, Cid and Yates. They remained concealed in some dried up woody brush, made of dried bushes and branches. An unpaved dirt road lay to the side of the bush, and just a few feet away from both of them, were a pair of railroad tracks stretching to both ends of the horizon. A mounded trail of gravel swimming beneath it to provide the stability it needed.
On the Railroad Crossing, a dusty, but well maintained handcart stood still for the last few hours, having been located on a siding 30 meters down the line and brought to the crossing by the strongmen Steele and Tex. If the mission were to continue as smoothly as planned, it wouldn't be at rest again for much longer.
Then a white light appeared at the end of the road, as it brightened, the four men on the road, all turned their attention to it. It didn't take any of the collective longer than 2 and a half heartbeats to run to a bush opposite of the side of the road Tex and the two "civies" he was charged with protecting hid.
The source of the light, which appeared to be like one star by itself from a distance, gradually melted into two circular stars that were positioned horizontally opposite of each other. The distinctive whir of an engine's motor hummed in with it and as the source of the lights began to slow, a faint screech of brakes could be heard not far away.
It stopped a scant 3 feet from the handcart on the crossing and the driver and passenger of what was now very clearly a jeep spun their heads ninety degrees to his left and right respectively. They then returned their vision back to the abandoned handcart on the crossing's tracks.
"They've got to be here." Rickles concluded.
"You're right, this is the spot on the map he indicated." Goran said. "Crossing 17!" He pointed to a wooden sign in front of the tracks of which he quoted.
"We have your ride Lieutenant Scipio!" Rickles said to what only seemed like nobody.
"Nobody's here." The familiar commander's voice replied.
The twosome unbuckled their seatbelts and opened the door to their jeep, and left them open. Rickles stopped a second to turn the engine off and followed suit.
"All clear men, let's continue." Cid smirked as he and his three cohorts emerged from their hiding spots in the bush.
"Where's Tex and the others?" Goran asked with a mixed tone of worry and intimidation.
"It's awright kid, we're in the other bush." The hick Corporal said as he stood out of his own hiding spot, which Roan and Emilene emerged from as well.
"Cid, we were able to find some 'normal TP' when we were on base, we left it in the glove compartment for you." Rickles reported.
"Good work Private, but I'll have to go over it later, Goran here's comin' wit' me on the cart while everyone else gets on that jeep and goes to the next crossing."
"You want me to have all the fun don't you?" Goran asked sarcastically.
"I see someone's on to me." Cid grinned as he walked to the handcart.
Steele replaced Rickles in the driver's seat and the latter took shotgun. Tex however, had crammed himself between him, allowing the other four people in the back of the large jeep to make some more comfortable room. Yates removed a map and then wedged between Steele and Tex to review the next phase of the mission.
"This road intersects at this same rail line 40 kilometers southeast." Yates began. "The 'Phantom Train' frequents this area as a stopping site for its front shellings. Goran and Lieutenant Scipio will take the hand cart south and search for the presence of the train itself."
He drew his finger across the map to the next railroad crossing.
"We'll stop here, right at the edge of the tracks. We'll essentially have the train 'surrounded, and we'll be able to board the bloody thing and fry the cannon and the engine pulling it right to hell." He finished with flare.
"Ok... And we know the train is out there now... how?" Roan asked suspiciously.
"Turn you're head back north in about two hours, those guys are shelling the front more than once a day, but always on an unchanging schedule. You'd think there was a bloody thunderstorm going down over there." Nigel informed.
Steele watched as Goran and Cid began pumping the handlebar on the handcart. As soon as the handle moved, the car itself moved out of the headlights and to the east into the desert.
"Go on Steele, you don't have to look both ways now." Nigel shook the brute's shoulder.
"Maybe if I got a little sleep tonight I'd have the energy to look both ways old man." The snobby PFC floored the gas pedal and jerked all of the passengers, even himself, back into their respective seats.
2 hours later... post dawn...
It was only fifteen minutes after their leave that the first rays of the sun blazed across the desert sands and the steel tracks coursing across it. The wildlife was now aware that predator and prey alike were out and about in the heat, and were now on the move.
Of course, one special case involves it being hard to discern the predator from the prey. The vicious cycle between the Black Cactuars and the so-called Phantom Train.
The Cactuars could be seen as pack animals, hunting their lone prey, strategically in separate groups instead of one thoughtless rush.
The trick however... Was finding the prey.
A figure in red toiled over a wooden hand car on the barren railroad tracks as his counterpart, a purple-jacketed black figure, sat lazily on the edge of the cart. He was whistling through a small thin metal bar with holes poked through the middle that produced various whistling tones when blown trough... Yes, it's a harmonica, and the noise ironically, was getting on the younger red-garbed pre-adult's nerves.
"Will you drop that harmonica and help me with pumping this thing!?" Goran angrily moaned to the Lieutenant.
"Now relax boy, you's younger than me, so you got more spunk. I think you're doin' just fine on your own." Defended the lazy Lieutenant.
"Hey, I'm 19, and you're only what? Thirty?" The Teen snarled.
"Hey, respect your elders boy, don't be a smart ass."
The cart slowed to a halt alongside a short rocky cliff, with concealing foliage at the top of the steep hill.
"I take it going any further is out of the question isn't it?" Cid asked tactfully.
"Well, when you don't help out yeah..." He said out of breath as he joined Cid in sitting out the ride.
"How'd you get to be a Lieutenant with your lack of work ethic?" He tactlessly continued.
"Hey, if I knew the answer to that kid, I'd be God, and the last time I checked, Gods do not talk jive." The Lieutenant commented.
"You're just saying that so you don't have to admit you're lazy do you?"
"Shi-it boy, what's with you an' all your questions?"
"That's only been my second question to you all day."
"No, I mean last night during the raid, and the campfire before that, haven't you ever heard of curiosity killing the cat?" Cid corrected.
"You asked me, to raid a Muspeli stronghold... For toilet paper!"
Cid didn't get a chance to answer before a voice atop the hill drew their attention upwards.
"Programming current targeting coordinates Captain!" A disciplined voice called to what only seemed at the time to be no one in particular.
"Set the power level to 45% Sergeant, I want the shells to be powerful, but I don't want to waste power cells on an overkill." Another voice sternly commanded.
"No need to tell me twice Captain, I set the power levels on the way out here. Just as you commanded before... Targeting coordinate entry complete, no errors, adjusting rail incline now." Replied the first voice.
A mechanical whine sounded over the brush, and through the reeds at the top of the hill, a white, three-pronged metallic structure materialized as if it had been a lioness, hiding in the bushes for the careless gazelle that came to close to a watering hole.
As quickly as it had appeared, it stopped, still difficult to tell the true details of it's appearance, or its origins.
"Holy shit... It's right on the siding next to us!" Exclaimed Cid.
"Ready!"An alien humming and flashes of crackling green electricity on the structure followed the command.
"Holy shit!" Goran exclaimed with a start.
"Duck and Cover!"
They hit the dirt right on the Captain's next order.
"Fire!"A whistle like rocket sized firecracker cracked the air like a shell whilst accompanied by a divinely bright-white light (phew, what a rhyme) sent forth another green messenger of death to the battered Niobe front.
The soot on the ground for miles kicked as high as an inch into the air. The force of the launch was so powerful that not only did Goran and Cid fall to their sides, the front of the handcart fell slipped off the tracks. Even the mount of the war machine moved back several feet before whatever was anchoring it to the ground finally countered the force.
"All right, one shell for this morning's session ought to be enough for the likes of them. Engineer, take us back to home base."Almost as quickly as he had issued the order, the unseen Captain and his artillery piece moved forward. The chugging sound of a locomotive could be heard from in front of it...
There was no mistake; the duo had found the Phantom Train!
The lieutenant and the swordsman got up into a sitting position and watched the railgun disappear behind the reeds atop the hill.
"H-hey, I know this place from the map, there's a junctioning track right up ahead, we can follow them right to their station from there!" Cid jumped to his feet.
"We'd better get this back on track!" Goran followed his lead.
Both men ran to and grabbed the edge of the rail car. Lifting the front end into the air and lining up the wheels until they sank back onto the tracks. As soon as they did, they boarded and pumped the handles like there was no tomorrow.
3 miles south: Crossing 18...
Sitting precariously on the desert crossing was a jeep with seven familiar fighters inside. Bushes surrounded the tracks and the road; ready to conceal any would-be guerillas that were on a little train-spotting mission. Guerillas like Roan, Emilene, and the Black Cactuars... Did I mention Roan was getting whiny under the morning heat?
"We've been roasting here for the last 45 minutes and Cid and Goran haven't shown up yet! I can't believe you're trying to pass this off as a plan!"
"Rickles, chap, why couldn't you have gotten a jeep with a roof and roll-down windows? The wind here is getting rather noisy." Commented Nigel as he ignored Roan.
"Easy, none of them had working A/C." He said like it was the most important thing in the world.
In the back seat, Yates scanned the northern horizon for what seemed like the eighth time since their arrival after dawn. There was no sign of life before the horizon, not even a chocobo print in the dust. Save for the silhouettes of the Wyrm Mountains on the eastern edge of his vision.
The eighth time fortunately, proved to be a charm. For as he was about to take a break, over the further of two rolling hills in the distance, an ever-growing cloud of gray smoke puffed from behind the mound. Before Yates knew it, a metallic black and red figure peaked out from behind the rocky hill. It was obvious what was coming; a train was heading through!
"Sergeant!" He yelped as he lifted his binoculars off his head and handed it down to Nigel up front.
The elderly former Major stood as much as he could and still balance in his cramped front seat. He aimed his scope northward and beheld the same sight as Yates. A steam locomotive was shooting down the tracks from less than three miles away. Trailing behind it, was none other than several brown and olive colored camouflaged cars, carrying who knows how many angry Muspell men.
"Steele..." Nigel warned the driver. "Back up. We don't want to become railroadkill, and we certainly don't want to be spotted either, get us back."
Midway through the orders, Steele had already gotten the Sergeant's message and pulled the shiftstick into reverse. The car slowly pulled backwards and concealed itself from the train behind the bushes.
"Let's hope they haven't seen Cid yet."
Nigel's fears would later be relieved by the fact that although now that his superior and his mentee had made it onto the same tracks as the mysterious express, they were seriously falling behind. Human strength proved worthless in a race a handcart and a steam engine and the duos falling behind proved it. By the time they had made it to the base of the first hill before the crossing, the mysterious train had already begun its own ascension of the second hill to the south... And their stamina was draining to half-empty.
"Faster kid, that loony engineer ain't waiting for us!" Cid barked at the civilian.
"I guess that's a mixed blessing..." He panted. "If he had stopped for us, we'd be getting in a trap for sure!"
"Kid, I'll make a soldier-boy outta you yet!"
"Shouldn't we be worrying about the train?"
"Relax, we'll catch up wit' it!" Cid sputtered.
Goran didn't even have to pay attention to know that nothing was further from truth. As the small rail car reached the top of the hill, the train had already half-disappeared over the second hill...
"I'd love to see how the gang's doing without me now!" The Lieutenant tried to get his mind off the imminent failure.
Five minutes of uncomfortable silence had overcast the Black Cactuars as their jeep sat with its engine running behind the bushes. So far, the silence hadn't been broken, not even by a train, especially not the one that should have rumbled past the seven right now. Naturally, at this point, the mercenaries were quite unsettled.
"Steele, pull up, we need to take a look around." Ordered Nigel.
"And get splattered over the next 20 miles of railroad track Sarge?" The Hulking PFC cautioned.
"We'll have to take that risk if we're going to see why our train isn't on schedule."
"The things I do for money." The lummox groaned and pulled the car forward.
With one unanimous look to their left, the mercs saw nothing on the tracks ahead, no trail of smoke was visible in the sky and the tracks were as clear as day.
They turned to their right to encounter the same, empty sight, no smoke, no whistle, and most of all, no train.
"Well boys, either we missed a hundred tons of metal zooming by us or the sun got in our eyes." Tex surmised. "How'd we miss something like that?"
"Penny for your thoughts chief, it's called the 'Phantom Train' for a good reason." An annoyed Rickles answered.
"But there definitely was a train there, I saw it." Emilene defended. "We all saw it didn't we?"
"Well, come to think of it, there's no such thing as group mirages." Yates ad-libbed his two cents as he examined the northern horizon with his binoculars. He was met immediately with the site of two figures, one red and black, and the other purple, emerge over the horizon on a handcart.
"Hey look, it's Cid!" He shouted as he waved the rest of his comrades in arms.
The other end of the tracks was no better a sight than the confusion at the crossing. An exhausted Cid and Goran froze their cart at the top of the second hill where they last saw the train, only to be met with empty track as far as the eye can see.
The swordsman Goran, collapsed on his knees as his body gave out under its very own weight. The more battle hardened Cid however, was able to stay standing, but he leaned heavily on his knees as he took a series of shallow breaths. With the train gone, there was no reason to continue forward, and thus their motivation destroyed.
"Well kid... It looks like you really blew it this time."
"What do you mean ME? What about you?"
"Hold that thought, I see something up ahead." He said noticing a small black object down the road.
He picked up a pair of his own personal binoculars and followed his line of sight to the object. He imminently recognized it as the same jeep Rickles had carjacked earlier that night, and all seven men and woman were huddled up... And looking right back at them.
"Well kid, at least we found our team again."
It was time to rendezvous...
"Tex, hand me your canteen." Yates asked as he lowered his binoculars momentarily.
Despite the two-rank difference between the men, Tex politely took his metallic water canteen and handed it to the small Private. Yates looked at the sun's current position in the sky and attempted to discern its position in relation to his two friends on the other end of the horizon. With only five seconds to process all that information, He held the canteen high up into the air, and shook it calculatingly as to reflect the suns rays whenever necessary.
"H-h-hey kid, Yates is sending Morse code!" Cid whispered what may have well been shout.
Goran slowly climbed to a stand and divided his attention, and the faint flashing on the horizon.
"What's he saying?"
Cid was silent for five seconds before answering Goran's inquiry.
".…...Head...for our...position... We'll come to...you too... meet us halfway..." He translated the signals.
"Then let's-
"Wait-wait-wait, more!" Cid held out his hand to stop the young adult mid-sentence.
"Will...bring...toilet...paper..."
Cid's binoculars shook a bit as the sound of someone face-faulting rattled the aged handcart.
A ten minute walk downhill reunited the two groups as they sat on a rocky outcropping on the side of the tracks where the handcart now rested. Many men sat taking a break under the mid-morning sun, trying to think of explanations of what just happened just a scant 15 minutes ago.
Goran however, was having no part of it, upon arrival, Steele had bluntly shoved his loot from Fort Tonberry against his chest, half-expecting he knew what to do. It was dark whenever Goran had gotten a clear chance to examine the TP, so he never got the chance to take a closer look.
...And boy did what he saw when examining the toiletries puzzle him to no end, it was weird enough that he was earlier able to tell they were multi-colored, but the typewriting and dating on the slips proved one thing... This was not any brand of toilet paper he'd ever seen.
"Okay... outdated platoon rosters; ration shipments; Training schedules... What kind of toilet paper is this?" Goran skeptically asked the mercs.
"I'll tell you what kid." Tex spoke. "Real toilet paper is 'bout as rare as ice cubes here in the Niobe, and the Muspeli want to destroy all documents they can as soon as they have no relative use, they use whatever they can get their hands on."
"I was quite surprised when I found the real deal in the first stalls I examined." Yates explained. "Apparently, the camp commissar must have licked a lot of bloody boots shiny in Katarno's cabinet to get it."
"Let me guess..." Roan speculated. "You were thinking that by grabbing that shit-wiping gear, you could find some clues about the Train's whereabouts?"
"Now you're catchin' on lad." Nigel smiled.
Emilene walked up and sat at her brother's side, reading over his shoulder as he went along.
"Just look at these supply requests, they must date back six months. Sixty tons of Concrete; 3,000 Steel reinforced I-beams and support structures; 3 tons of mining explosives, 2,000 kilometers of fiber-optic cable..."
All six Cactuars looked at Goran at that moment like he said the f-word in front of an auditorium full of pre-schoolers. Goran didn't notice their gazes, but Emilene did, and she sure felt uncomforable, for she felt like she was feeling the staring for him.
"...This is just a list of building supplies, I don't see-
"Um, Goran." Emilene interrupted him.
"What Emilene?"
"I think you're on to something."
Cid interrupted the two and walked to their side as well.
"What was that last thing you read about boy?"
"It says two-thousand kilometers of fiber optic cable as the fourth item on the list, but I don't see where you're going."
Cid didn't answer, only grinned.
"...Oh no, I know that look from a mile away! What plan do you have now Hannibal?" He sarcastically asked as he lowered his head.
"Hey Steele," he called, ignoring the worry of his new charge. "Why don't you play in the sand near the tracks wit' your bayonet?"
Steele unsheathed a long, serrated knife from an upside-down sheath on his chest, confused at first, but once it had emerged completely from its holster, the PFC smiled and giggled in that trademark laugh.
"Oh boy boss, you're a genius!"
The Muscleman jogged to the side of the tracks next to the trio parked nearby and squatted over the loose, rocky, red soil. With a jump, he stabbed the earth with the bayonet and dug into the loose crust. He systematically scrounged the knife through the dirt, his strength, combined with the already weak soil made the dagger go through the dirt as if it were made entirely of water...
Until something underground snagged the blade ever so slightly.
He bent the knife sideways, carefully trying to keep the bayonet from losing it's surprise catch. As the blade surfaced, caught on its top flat end, was a thin black cord, no wider than a number two pencil. It was coated in red soot from what seemed like days, months, possibly even years ago...
Of course, if the document was any indication, and indeed it was. It was probably the second answer of months...
As the Cactuars and company sprang to their feet at his discovery, Steele tugged on the cable and it seemed to lengthen as more of it found its way to the surface...
The Cactuars had their lead...
As morning turned into noon, the Cactuars and their three charges followed the bulky mercenary and his cable along the desert tracks, past many a tree and bush. Two hours of following the cord had led them far, far away from the jeep and the handcart and out into the untamed Savannah, kicking up dust and creating an unrecognizable shuffle of footprints in their wake as their seemingly fruitless search continued.
A junction had come up ahead by the time the wire had shifted radically to the right... Underneath the gravel mound supporting the train tracks on top.
Even with his gladiatorial strength, Steele knew he couldn't pull the wire through gravel, wood, AND metal.
"Hey El-Tee, I think this is finally going somewhere!" He said stating the obvious.
The nine warriors crossed the track and leapt down to the right side where the second, off shoot track peeled off from the main line. Goran, sensing the need to pull around his weight, unsheathed his temporarily neglected sword and stabbed it into the ground.
And on his first try, he peeled the same cable right out of its shallow bed and took it in hand, yanking Steele's current job from him. He sheathed his blade and then tugged the wire to follow their so-called lead.
As the sun left its high-noon position, the scenery from before was slowly but surely replaced with a wide, rocky canyon stretching 15 meters into the air, curving into a rolling downward position as if to give the illusion that the stone was being sucked into the path below.
And as if things hadn't been strange enough for the frontiersmen, Right at the end of the path was a dead end. An orange buffer stood at the end of the tracks, and 5 yards behind it was a wall of ancient stone covered by aged rocks, trapped in the long dry soil for centuries at a time. Hardy shrubs and resilient moss lined the area in between.
"Aw, All that power-walking for nothing." Emilene moaned at the taunting development.
"Now may we take a breather Lieutenant?" Roan whined in inquiry.
"No way kiddo, we followed that cord here, we ain't stopping to pussy-foot while Muspell sends the PT out to nuke our lines, we haven't even looked around yet!" Cid countered.
"What's to look at, there's nothing to see here but lots and lots of rock!" Emilene shouted, starting the rare cycle of losing her patience.
"Ah-ah-ah!" Yates began to correct the teen. "Never just glance at something miss, investigation is the key."
As they argued, Goran silently and slowly stepped through the dry field to the stone wall before him, with Steele looking curiously at the surroundings around them. Goran stood before the monument of time with a rather curious glance, gently placing a hand on the canyon wall. He knew that there had to be something about this place that had to do with that cable, there was something important here. What could it have been?
As he contemplated various scenarios in his head, no one saw Steele unsheathe his bayonet again from behind our hero.
He stared nervously for a second, wondering if he could make his mark with the oversized knife in his right hand...
Who was he kidding, he's the Black Cactuars weapon specialist for crying out loud!
He wound up his arm back and focused on his target... the target in Goran's direction. He needn't worry about any choking here. He eyed the white-haired teen evilly as he moved his hand across the hillside, and without hesitation threw the dagger forward...
Goran jumped as Steele's bayonet smashed into the canyon wall right between his right arm and his head. He turned his head around and did an about face as the middle-aged man behind him walked menacingly toward him. Without thinking, Goran's hand willed the White Katana out of it's sheathe and took a step forward, readying to do battle with the traitor before him.
Despite the fact that he was only walking, Steele fast approached the startled youth as he took the traditional arched battle stance of your typical swordsman...
The fight would never come...
As though oblivious to the one-edged blade, the giant walked past Goran and shot his arm out to his knife. Goran was taken aback, what was going on in this guy's head?
Instead of pulling the blade out of where it stuck, Steele pulled it downward. There was little resistance as the canyon wall shuddered and shook as soot came loose from the vibration.
Wait a second, shuddered?
There was a slight crinkling sound as the "rock" shook from its arbitrary carving by Steele, the other Cactuars, not believing what they were seeing. Whatever Steele had just slit, it was NOT rock, not by a long shot. The material was some sort of fabric or tarp, specially textured to look like the desert background and disguise whatever it was hiding...
It was time to find out what...
Steele sheathed his bayonet and slipped both of his fingers into tarp, revealing a network of metal bars behind it. After examining the hidden structure, the man grabbed the metal itself, and before they knew it, the wall's right side opened outward, revealing a cave entrance within.
The unit crept into the space one by one and shut the door behind them...
The cool cave was a refreshing change from the withering heat outside, but it was miserable dark, and even the guide lights proved to be no match for the intense darkness of the cavern.
However, when the gang looked down, they had plenty of light to notice something intriguing...
Right at their feet, starting from the very doors they entered, a new set of train tracks led into the bowels of the cavernous tunnel...
And as their eyes followed the tracks further inward for them, they saw a recognizable form underneath a pair of suspended catwalks...
A massive, black steam locomotive with a loud red cowcatcher and wheels up front loomed from the other end of the cave. A short, foot-tall smokestack stuck out of the top of the locomotive's cylindrical body just a few feet behind the headlight, which was suspended from the front and center edge of the locomotive's body. Suspended on the roof of the engineer's cabin at the back of the massive engine, was a mounted machine gun with bullets powerful enough to eviscerate all but the strongest tank and fighter armor. Behind the locomotive was a permanently attached coal tender car, loaded to the top with the fragile black soot source for its fuel.
But on the front of the iron horse, was a psychologically intimidating sight. A shield Emblem held in place by the image of a Griffin on its right, and a Chimera on its left.
Underneath the coat of arms, was the image of a ribbon, with the motto of Muspell written on its image...
Fatherland of mankind"Ladies and gentlemen." Cid declared. "Meet the Phantom Train!"
I soooo wanted the chappy to keep going for a while, but my first day of school it tomorrow, so I figured I'd end chapter 4 here and continue this sub-plot in chapter 5. Read and review here now people, and may you be patient enough to wait for me!
"Cindy! The TV's leaking!" Brenda Meeks- Scary Movie 3