Thanks to Thereisnobrain for reviewing. Sorry for the wait but I have numerous stories to update at once, also I have far too much coursework on my hands, I probably shouldn't be writing right now, ah well.

Chapter 10: Sacrifice

Andrusha Ivanov, An A.O.H regional commander for several major Russian cities, watched the lights; buildings and large fires of Cheboksary quickly grow smaller as his transport rushed from the battle scene.

When it became clear that the Alliance of Humanity was losing the battle, he couldn't get out of the city fast enough, now that he was out of the metaphorical firing line however, he felt no relief, only outrage and shame.

The machines, the fucking slaves of humanity and their do-gooder accomplices had just chased him out of his home. Now he and a handful of his staff ran like frightened children to the most fortified location, desperate to be out of reach of the New Order bogeymen. Soon there wouldn't be anywhere left to run to.

He shuddered at the thought, he knew all too well what the New Order would do if they ever got their hands on him, no mercy was spared for regional commanders, all were instantly deemed war criminals and a grisly demise awaited them, preceded by peerless agony awaited them.

There were rumours of research centres, where the machines would take war criminals and test their bodies again and again to see they could survive multiple punctures in the flesh before their body gave us, or how much weight a bone could take before it shattered.

He shuddered again. That was what would happen to him before too long, the war thus far was a disaster. All the A.O.H forces could do was serve as delay the enemy advance through allied holdings and inflict single digit casualties on the New Order forces. Territory was being lost with each passing week, mutiny and desertion was commonplace in the conscripted ranks, (only this morning he had heard of another transport that had been hijacked by treasonous soldiers and taken over to New Order territory. There were 2000 soldiers onboard, 2000 less soldiers to help stave off defeat. God only knew how many of those would join the New Order's ranks.

When the UN representative had first approached him and offered the position of regional commander, Ivanov had thought he'd died and gone to Heaven. Five cities placed under his control, power over the police force, completely above the law. He could do whatever the hell he wanted so long as he kept the population in line.

In the corner of his eye, Andrusha noticed his personal advisor glaring at him, it then occurred to him that he was smiling at pleasant thoughts, he banished them and cursed himself for his carelessness. His face reverted to its previous dour expression.

"Fuck." Muttered Gennadius Petrova, former head of security at Ivanov's former residence. It was the seventh time he'd muttered that or a similar expletive.

"Stop your whining!" Snapped Ivanov.

A few heads turned in his direction, but most people were too lost in their own terror or depression to care about raised voices.

Silence passed for a few moments, the sky overhead as black and filled with stars, a welcome change from the orange, seemingly apocalyptic sky of Cheboksary. Below the transport lay picturesque snow filled scenery. The natural beauty seemed to radiate a calm that Ivanov didn't feel.

The door to the passenger compartment opened, someone stepped through that Ivanov didn't recognise.

"Sir," she said, addressing him, "A message just came for you, marked for your eyes only."

"I'll view it later." Came the scornful reply, Ivanov didn't feel up to doing anything except sitting down and wiling the world to leave him alone.

"It's marked urgent sir."

He turned to glare at the messenger, he put as much malevolence and contempt into the glare as he could. He wanted to exact vengeance, in any way possible and on whoever was available, for the loss of Cheboksary.

The woman responded with a far more menacing 'Don't fuck with me' glare of her own. After a few seconds, Ivanov pushed himself to his feet.

"Very well." He said as professionally as he could.

With one hand, the new arrival gestured him down the corridor towards a computer terminal in a secluded area of the transport that was typically used by the crew.

After fitting a pair of ill-fitting headphones on his head, Ivanov hit the flashing 'play' button.

Immediately, an image of Zachary Timmons appeared on the screen. Timmons was one of the UN's many messengers. He was by all accounts, a scheming, bottom-feeding weasel who'd sell his children, (if he had any), to slavery to accomplish his goals, which basically consisted of power, wealth and respect.

He was also smiling.

"Andrusha," the message began, the voice filled with sickening satisfaction, "Tough break with Cheboksary, I'm sure that you did everything you could to keep the city out of enemy hands, ah who am I kidding? I'm sure you ran for cover as soon as word reached your ear that the barbarian hordes were advancing on the gate."

Ivanov's eyelids flew up. A certain level of forced discretion was always used with the A.O.H's ruling bodies. He had only heard this tone of voice used one before, when a fellow Commander was to be scape…

Grim realisation set in, Ivanov's face suddenly went pale, it seemed that death may come sooner then he thought.

A small laugh from Timmons snapped Ivanov's attention back towards the message.

"We can't really afford to have people entrusted with the safety of an Allied city abandoning it in a sudden moment of cowardice now can we? We have standards to uphold. That is why it has been decided that you are to be our latest scapegoat." He laughed again, "Look on the bright side Andrusha, you get to be a dead hero as apposed to a living coward. We've got people drawing up stories for the news as we speak. You know 'Our valiant commander who led his troops valiantly against overwhelming odds', things like..."

Ivanov ripped the headphones from his head and threw them at the monitor. He would be dammed if he was going to be arrested and then executed after landing.

He knew that there was a parachute in one of the aft compartments, if he could get to that, granted he'd never used one before, but how tough could it be? He thought to himself, and what choice did he have?

He swung around, and instantly found himself face to face with the woman who had informed him of the message, now however, she was smiling at him, and pointing a loaded gun at his head.

Andrusha Ivanov had one brief moment to realise what had happened, and that most, if not all of his staff had probably been in on this assassination plot, before his brain, blood, skin and shattered skull fragments decorated the computer screen, where Zachary Timmons was laughing yet again.

To be continued.