Hello people, hope you're having a great day, and that most of you are enjoying your time off from that terror know only as the public school system. Think I managed to get this chapter out in neigh-record time, and hopefully by doing so I haven't diminished the quality of it at all.
Anyway, to those of you kind enough to review.
Farr2rich- I'm glad you liked the chapter, and I hope you enjoy this one too. My sympathies to you about your computer, I know how fickle these contraptions can be at times, particularly when it seems to realize that you are in a hurry. My thanks to you for letting me use your utility belt, as I needed something to allow Damas to quickly switch from one kind of Eco to another. (bows)
MariaShadow- Thank you for the compliment, my battle sequences are really about the only thing I think I can write really well, and I was always a little disappointed that the game never went into detail about such an important event.
Xeno-Freak- Glad you enjoyed the battle, and I'm sorry if I somehow irritated you with the Halo stuff that I've thrown in. As far as Praxis is concerned, he strikes me as the kind of guy who did all the wrong things for all the right reasons, if you know what I mean, and I'm actually toying with the idea of some sort of redemption type deal towards the end, as while I was rather upset at how he died, the way in which he did proved without a doubt, in my mind at least, that he's got guts. What do you think?
Paska- Thank you so much for your advice and ideas. As far as the plasmite grenades are concerned, Keira's gauntlet vibro blade has actually given me the idea of using a "sonic" grenade that she'll develop later that will eventually replace the plasmite ones. Basically it creates a high-power sound wave literally capable of turning something's bones into dust, and it usually can't be stopped by armor, unlike plasma. Also, thank you for the Ak-47 and the frag grenades, I think I'll probably put them in the sequel that I'm trying to put together, as I noticed that the Wastelander equipment seemed...more crude and primitive, if you will, than what Haven had at its disposal. Thanks again. (bows humbly)
Exardas- Yeah, it's like I told Paska, I just couldn't think of anything that would do the Haven military justice, as you never see them in a true traditional battlefield type situation, and the game doesn't exactly do into great detail about their tactics and weapons, if you know what I mean. I'm glad you like the story so much, and please let me know what you think of this chapter if you get the chance.
Lunatic Pandora1- Yeah, in hindsight, I suppose his name was sort of morbidly appropriate for that situation. And truth be known, I was a little disappointed as to how easily General Grievous fell to Obi-Wan, as the Clone Wars cartoon made him out to be something of an unstoppable killing machine. To Quote Kid Al-mundi (the cone headed Jedi, who was a survivor from Grievous' initial attack) "Granted, we were exhausted, but when was the last time someone stood up to five Jedi, and held his own?" Also, about D.J. being a berserker, when you put it in that light, and I think of what is going to cause him to make his first appearance in his evolved form, I would have to say that you are definiately correct, he will be berserking, at least as far as the K.G. are concerned.
Shakai- Glad that you liked the chapter. As far as Damas dying, I'll leave that up to your imagination, and yeah, Jynx is in the game, he just doesn't play a big role in number 2, so I thought I'd go and give him a bigger part, seeing as they never really went into detail about him. (just to warn you, he's a little different in this tale). Also "Might controls everything, Dante, and without it, you can protect nothing, least of all yourself." (hehe, Virgil kicks so much butt)
daxter the otsel- I'm not so sure about outdoing myself, but thanks for the vote of confidence. As far as your question was concerned, there have been a lot of prison stories done, so if you do one, try to put a twist on it that no one has seen yet. On the other hand, I can't really recall all that many stories about the whole banishment deal. It's really up to you, but I'm certain you'll do great which ever one you choose. (hope this was at least somewhat helpful to you)
ChibiSess- Sorry to do that to Damas, but I had to get him out of the picture somehow. And don't worry, Torn will feel plenty guilty, and things are about to get even worse for him (this is the chapter covering the coup, and it'll also explain how Torn got that injury that I hinted at at the end of chapter nine). I'm also glad that you liked the idea of Damas being a Channeler, as I'd always assumed it had been something hereditary, (plus, at the very end, and in some of the sequel, I plan on explaining how and why the original Channelers came about). One last thing, if by some chance you do draw a picture of Damas, could you let me know where you post it?
Light-Eco-Sage- Expect to see more blood and gore in this chapter, as it is the one where I ruthless kill off about ninety five percent of the OCs that I've thrown in to flesh out Torn's background. (I've noticed that in both this and my other tale, that my won characters have a very high mortality rate for some reason, (cackles insanely)) Hope you like this one as much as you did the last one.
SRHumphry727- I'm glad you like the story, and the twists that I've managed to think up in my demented and insane mind, may they hopefully not become too outlandish. (laughs nervously) Hope you enjoy this installment.
To those of you who read, but did not review, I hope you liked it, and please be certain to let me know if you spot anything that could be improved.
To those sad and pathetic lawyers who have to cruise through here looking for a frivolous lawsuit to try and instigate, I don't own this, or any other character not of my own creation, so bugger off and consider getting another job.
That done, here is the next chapter.
&
A Delta's Honor, Part Three: Our Finest Hour
He felt numb as he sat down within the drop ship, looking past his brothers, past the steel walls that he was confined within. While the others had removed their helmets, Torn kept his on, for the simple reason that he didn't want them to see their beloved squad leader cry.
For that was indeed what he was doing. He wept, something that he usually attributed as a weakness and attempted to squash at the first moment he felt it, or at least made certain that no one was watching. But this time, he couldn't hold back, and the tears silently poured down his face. He cried for Anton and all the other Deltas that had given their lives, seemingly in vain, on this terrible day. He wept for the loss of life in general, knowing that so many hadn't come back, whose corpses would now forever lie where they had fallen. And tears were shed as he realized that one of those bodies, doomed never to be recovered and brought home for the grieving loved ones, was King Damas himself. Their great and fearless leader had fallen to save them, when it was they who would have, and should have, gladly died for him. To top it off, he was the one designated to have to break the news to his wife and little kid.
How was he supposed to do that? How did one go up to a three year old boy and explain to him that the loving father he knew wasn't coming back?
Delta Forty Two continued to ponder that seemingly impossible challenge as the battered army heading back for Haven, utterly and completely defeated.
The ships set down in their designated areas, the Halcyons heading over to the industrial district and dropping off the tanks and men onboard, while the drop ships set themselves down in the various residential areas throughout the city. The one that he was on landed in the main square, which was right where the chaos was.
The rear hatch opened, spilling light into the compartment. The infantry regulars piled out, their eyes scanning the crowds, looking for members of their families. The civilians did the same, frantically searching and calling out names, hoping against hope that the owner of that name still drew breath.
For Torn and his squad, he knew there would be no such calling, for none of them had family to speak of, at least in the literal sense. The squads were his family, Jynx, Hunter, Ackerson, and all the rest, they were his siblings, his brothers and sisters. But even their losses had been disastrous. Never before in the history of their elite squads had so many Deltas perished in a single operation. Torn could recall, with infinite clarity, Samantha's broken cry as she was crushed by the strike of that Torresques tail, Anton's defiant scream of rage as he detonated his leftover charges in a final desperate bid to kill the thing. He would never see them again in this plane of existence, never spar with them, run through a drill or a mission together with them, never line up with them on the parade ground, they were gone.
He realized that people were staring at the other members of his squadron, and he understood after a moment, that it was because they had taken off their helmets. The public usually, as in never, saw the Deltas without them being completely outfitted in their gear. It must have surprised them to find out that there were actual, living, breathing elves underneath those eerie helmets. For once, it seemed, that their training and equipment was a curse, rather than a blessing.
Captain Errol hadn't been in the minority when he had referred to him and his men as windup toy soldiers, because that was what most people thought of them as. The way they were trained to be able to work perfectly without the need to speak to each other, they was they could take an Eco bolt through the arm and not even flinch, and stare certain Death in the face so easily, led many of the populace to simply assume that they were some sort of android or robot, a machine without feeling. They just didn't realize that they were people too, people who felt pain, people who had failings, who weren't perfect…people, who despite being able to stare Death in the face, still mourned and wept when he claimed one of them.
Torn suddenly realized that while he had been lost in his thoughts, he had unconsciously been trekking towards the palace with the rest of his squad. The Queen, her son, Ashelin, and a few Praetorian Guards stood at the grand entrance, their faces somber, with pain etched into their features. That pain, was about to increase tenfold for two of them.
As he began a slow trek up the stairs, the Delta popped the seal on his helmet, and finally removed it. He saw Ashelin's eyes dart over him, no doubt relieved that he seemed alright, as there was an enormous amount of carbon scoring on his armor from where he'd been hit by enemy fire. However, most of his attention was directed on Queen Alicia and Prince Alex.
The little boy was tugging at his mother's dress, asking why he couldn't see his dad with the other soldiers. His mother on the other hand, simply looked at the squadron of elite soldiers standing in front of her, and seemed to understand. Tears manifested themselves, and a noticeable slump came over everyone else. Finally, Torn managed to swallow the lump that was in his throat, and stepping forward, his head bowed in grief, told her of her Husband's fate.
"He covered the army's retreat, Ma'am." he said, his voice quiet and broken, before kneeling down to the toddler at her feet. "He told me to give this to you." and he gave the boy the amulet that had been passed down from parent to child since the days of Mar.
Then, unable to say any more, the Delta turned and led his squad inside.
Ashelin found him in the training room, still clad in his armor, and beating the living daylights out of a punching bag. The Delta's face was contorted in rage, and he screamed incoherently as he vented his pent up feelings on the bag. For several minutes, she just stood there, watching Torn unleash Echani martial arts upon it, until it could finally take no more, and a well placed roundhouse kick practically tore it in half, the sand inside of it spilling all over the floor.
"You did your best." she said quietly, causing him to whirl around in surprise.
"No, we didn't!" he snarled, after he had gotten over his shock, and realized just how out of it he had been, to let someone sneak up on him like that.
"You can't blame yourself for what happened." she said, walking up to him and placing her hands on his shoulders in an attempt to comfort him.
"He did it for us." Torn muttered, bowing his head. "But why couldn't he understand, we're soldiers, we're suppose to protect him, supposed to die for him," he suddenly clenched his fists in anger, "it isn't suppose to work the other way around!"
For once, Ashelin was at a loss for what to do, as he broke free of her grip and went over to another punching bag, before starting up another fierce combat routine. Finally, she did the only thing she could think of at the time. She walked over, and held it, steadying it to help him out.
"Someone once said, whenever you think things can't possibly get any worse, reality has a way of proving you wrong to the point of breaking the laws of physics." Torn said, staring at the ground once more.
"Dare I even ask?" Jak inquired, a frown on his face as he wondered how in the world things could have gone more downhill than they had.
Though, deep down, he knew what was going to happen: the coup, he just didn't know exactly, how, it had happened. He also felt a tangible sense of grief when he learned of Damas' fate, despite his remarks about not caring earlier that day. The dark elf couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he felt a strange sense of familiarity when the Ex-Delta across from him talked about the late monarch, a bond he didn't understand. For the moment, though, he simply shrugged it off and returned his attention to Torn's story.
"Less than a week after our assault on their home, the Metal Heads decided to pay us a visit." Torn muttered, shaking his head and sending his dreadlocks flying. "They hit us hard, and ripped through the outer Shield Wall, before we finally managed to stop them. But that part of the city was pretty messed up by the time it was all over with, as you've seen." He remarked, referring to Dead Town, in all its decay and whatnot, before quietly adding. "We loss two more Deltas in that area."
"Why weren't you getting any more?" the former Channeler asked. "I thought you said there were always supposed to be sixteen of you."
"Training a Delta took a lot of time, and we'd never loss so many so quickly." the Underground soldier answered, "Walon had his hands full trying to get us back up and running again."
Once more, the Ex-Delta paused, and took some time to organize his thoughts, before continuing with his story.
"A few months passed, and slowly, Praxis started changing." the tattooed commander said, looking Jak straight in the eyes. "He became obsessed about making Haven stronger, about making us powerful enough to make another assault on their nest, or something along that line, anything to put them out of commission permanently.
"Eventually, Praxis started gaining more influence with the council, things started happening, and laws started getting passed. Freedoms were restricted, all that other stuff. Well, eventually, some people had enough, and started fighting back."
"So the Underground's been around since before the coup?" the former Channeler muttered, somewhat surprised by this.
"Yeah," the tattooed commander confirmed, "but it didn't really get underway until after Praxis assumed control, as most of the people were a little hesitant about all but declaring war on what was left of the monarchy."
"When did you get involved with them?" Jak asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
"I'm getting to that." Torn said, before continuing with his compressed history lesson. "The coup happened on March 15, 2560, at two forty P.M."
"Beware the Ides of March." Jak muttered so quietly that Torn couldn't hear him.
"Colonel Walon had taken the Delta trainees on a routine drill to eliminate a small Metal Head patrol that intel had caught sneaking around in the Wasteland areas out near the strip mine, but the whole thing was just a ruse."
"How so?" the dark elf inquired.
"So Praxis could be sure that he had all ten of em on the same transport ship that just happened to run into some problems, if you catch my drift, and having our C.O. along for the ride sweetened the deal." the Ex-Delta spat, his voice full of cold hatred. "After that, he and the majority of the Krimzon Guard revolted, and turned on the rest of us. Most were caught off guard, and got waxed before they had time to defend themselves. But, for those of us who did figure out what was going on…" he paused, his eyes shinning in a bitterly triumphant way, "we made them pay dearly…"
Two of them, green as a spring day more than likely, rushed around the corner, and just as quickly were sent to the realm of the Grim Reaper by Mendoza's rifle fire. Delta Forty Two was next to him, ducked down behind a makeshift barricade and was currently busy reloading his M-404. Once that task was accomplished, he peaked back over the barrier, and angled his rifle towards Krimzon Guard that he could see backing himself against the wall closest to him. He didn't shoot the soldier, however, but managed to get the burst close enough that the rookie made a stupid move: he swung himself out into the open.
Torn wasted no time in putting a trio of Eco bolts into his stomach, right in a small cap that his armor didn't cover, causing him to drop out in the open like a sack of potatoes. The wound would be fatal if the boy, as that was pretty much what he was, if the screams were any indication, didn't get treatment. However, that was exactly what Torn had wanted to do, create a serious but not instantly fatal wound. The majority of the blood colored soldiers that were being thrown at them were newbies, most of them just out of boot camp, and in the small squadrons of half a dozen or so that they were in at the moment, were absolutely no match for the two very much entrenched Deltas.
They were also prone to letting their comradery override their common sense. Unable to stand his buddy's cries any longer, one of them dropped to his stomach, and tried to crawl out and retrieve his squad mate. It was admirable, but even the Deltas, who did everything in their power to rescue down comrades, made it a point to make certain that all hostiles had effectively been neutralized before attempting such a maneuver. It would be a mistake that would cost the other boy his life, as a single rifle bolt bored its way into his temple.
Torn supposed that he would later regret having to use such a dirty tactic to try and eliminate his enemies, but this was war…a very different kind of war than what he was used to. And throughout this conflict, which if his H.U.D. clock was correct, was dragging its way into hour number two, a single message repeated itself through his brain, something that had been virtually hardwired into it since his indoctrination into the Delta Squads: protect the Royal Family at all costs.
There was a sudden flare of light off to his side and he realized that Mendoza had just primed a grenade. The other grey armored warrior chucked it, putting a bit of a curve into his throw, which resulted in the explosive bouncing off of the far wall and rolling over out of sight.
"Holy drek! Grenade!" he heard one trooper scream, and there was a few seconds of chaos before the explosion occurred.
Once again, the elven screams that echoed throughout the corridors testified to a growing death count. It also had the added effect of granting them a few moments reprieve to pull their senses back together, while using their comms to try and find out how things were going elsewhere.
It was about an hour later, when things finally started to go downhill. Praxis' own elite troops began showing up, veterans who had survived the disastrous assault on the Metal Head Nest and who knew what they were doing began to lead the attack, and the two Deltas found themselves barely able to hold onto their position. Still, they fought back stubbornly, the very fierceness of their resistance keeping their foes at bay for a time.
But, it was not to last.
On the fourth charge of these elite troops, one of them got lucky, and managed to stick a grenade onto Mendoza. Time seemed to slow, as it always did, when such tragedies happened. Delta Sixteen didn't panic, swear, or cry out like most did, he just calmly threw down his rifle, and leaped over the barricade, sprinting towards the advancing enemy. Caught unprepared and off guard by this suicidal blitzkrieg, they stood stock still as the grey armored warrior jumped into their midst. Torn watched, helpless and horrified, as the grenade detonated, and outlined Mendoza with harsh blue fire, before enveloping him entirely, ending his life and the lives of ten others who had been close to the Delta at the time.
Torn was paralyzed for what seemed like hours. He had lost comrades before, watched them die from afar as Anton had, unable to bail them out, and had had a few even die in his arms. But they had always left this life fighting the enemy, the Metal Heads. Never before had one of his brothers or sisters met Death at the hands of a fellow elf. That small detail, which made all the world of difference, left him unable to think for a second. Once that unit of time had passed, however, a murderous rage seized him, and a feral scream tore its way from his throat.
Reaching down, the elite warrior cocked his M-404, and fired. The first plasmite grenade hit the enemy on their right front, and blew almost fifteen of them to pieces. He cocked and fired again, this time angling the shot so that it would hit the Krimzon Guards that were coming around the corner to try and overrun his position. They were on their way to the next life before they even knew what hit them. His fury seizing control of him, Torn forgot about common sense, and heedless of his own safety, charged out from behind his cover, tramping over the bodies of dozens of the K.G. that had accumulated during the battle.
Turning the corner, he found the enemy, still trying to recover from the brutal counter attack that he had thrown at him. Needless to say, they were not expecting this apparently psychotic soldier to come running at them, let alone shoot two more plasmite grenades into their midst. Fury still not sated, Torn began firing off bursts from his rifle, finishing off anyone unfortunate enough to survive the initial blasts.
But, the Delta's righteous fury was to be short lived, as what appeared to be hundreds of the traitorous Guard came pouring in from the far corridor. Common sense finally managed to get a word in edgewise, and Torn was quick to realize that he would be joining his brother very quickly if he didn't get out of the way. Part of him still wanted to remain however, but he managed to override that suicidal thought. He wouldn't be able to avenge the death of his friend by joining him so soon.
So it was with a tear being burned away by anger, that Delta Forty Two retreated back down the hallway, firing as he did so, while several bolts connected on him, but thankfully didn't penetrate his armor. He fell back past the barricade where he and Mendoza had fought so hard for so long to hold off Praxis' men and women, pausing just long enough to toss away his nearly empty weapon and grab the one his brother had dropped when he had been hit by the grenade.
From there, he quickly charged backwards through a door, sealing it behind him and making certain to fry the controls while he was at it. That would buy him a few minutes, for he was now in one of the rooms that had long ago been designated as a defense area in the event of an attack upon the palace. And as such, the doors had been made of a solid foot of Titanium-A, meaning that the K.G. weren't going to be blasting through it anytime soon.
It also meant that there was an armory in close proximity to his current location. Putting aside his grief for Mendoza until after the current crisis had been dealt with, he went in search of some more ammo, and the possibility of some more devastating firepower.
He had little difficulty in locating the armory, though hauling everything back proved to be both time consuming and exhausting. He cursed his luck, wishing that the Praetorian Guardsmen who had been in his sector hadn't been wiped out so quickly by the surprise attack. Still, he would not despair, he had a battle to help win, and a brother to avenge.
Torn had been busy during the past twenty minutes, and had managed to set up some rather nasty little traps all over the room, with a final surprise left back in the armory in the event that he had to pull back. Rule number ten: if necessary, employ a scorched earth policy, don't leave anything behind that your enemy can take advantage of.
He'd also been keeping a rather close eye on the comm. chatter, and from what he'd been able to gather, the others weren't doing so hot either. Hunter and Ackerson were holding on to the northeastern area of the palace, backed up by Praetorians and a few K.G. that had remained loyal to the queen, while Jynx and Delta Thirty Three, Rachel, held the northwestern sector. For the moment, they were hanging on, but Praxis was quickly realizing that he'd overestimated the ability of his rawer soldiers, and was starting to send in more highly trained elite divisions to try and force the loyalists back towards the Throne Room.
Bringing his mind back to the task at hand, Delta Forty Two looked over the weapons that he'd brought in. He had some reloads for both his BR55 and the under slung M-404, a few submachine guns for when they got closer, a scatter gun for when they really started to get friendly, and a fuel rod cannon that he wasn't about to leave behind for the enemy to claim or to be blown up. In addition he'd also managed a nice collection of both flash bang and conventional grenades, the excess of which he'd rigged up with a few laser activated antipersonnel mines.
He smiled grimly at the worked he'd done so quickly, and felt genuinely sorry for the first poor sap to step through door number one. The laser mines were simple to activate and generally quite reliable. They consisted of two parts: the explosives package and a sensor, while the other part was a laser beam generator that was aimed at said sensor. After activation, should the beam be broken in any way, form, or fashion, the person or thing responsible for that would be in for a rather nasty surprise. While nowhere near as powerful as the Havoc charges that had been used in the assault upon the nest, they were rather notorious for the amount of high velocity shrapnel they could fill the air with.
It was a good thing that he had worked fast, as it was not another five minutes before the telltale sounds of a door cutter could be heard. Instantly, he tensed, and ducked down slightly, as he had little doubt that the enemy would be opening up the party with a few flash bangs of their own. The door was suddenly forced open, and sure enough, he heard the clank of something hitting the metal floor. There was a flash and a roar, and then the first ranks swarmed in.
Where they ran right into the rigged up traps. The first of the mines went off, and wet splattering sounds echoed throughout the room as elves were turned into something that normally came out of the business end of a meat grinder. However, there was no subsequent rush through the portal that led into the room, and so Torn knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was facing high level veterans. It sickened him that people who had served the Royals for so long would so abruptly turn upon them, not to mention have the audacity to strike down members of his family.
And so it was with great relish that he fired off his first burst at an elf who stuck his head around through the open door, trying to get a visual on what was going on. The burst didn't connect with the red armored soldier, however, it did manage to take his ear off. After that, no one moved. However, Torn zoomed in with his marco binoculars, and if the shadows were to be any form of a give away, he realized that the now one eared trooper was not alone. Carefully angling his rifle, he cocked the M-404 as quietly as he possibly could, as his foes would doubtless know that sound, and fired.
His aim had been off just slightly, and as a result, the Krimzon Guards had about two seconds warning as it hit the ground with a 'thunk' and bounced once before coming to a stop just outside the door way. Some got out of the blast radius, some did not, and those that did found themselves under a furious assault by the Delta. Veterans though they were, most had never seen one of these grey armored soldiers in action before, and as such, while well trained, weren't exactly up to snuff, so to speak.
Still, Torn was no fool, and knew that he'd been in for a rough time if he was going to try and hold this place by himself, no matter how heavily armed and entrenched he was.It happened before he knew it. A frantic message came in from Ackerson, that they'd been swarmed and were falling back to the Throne Room, and that everyone else needed to do the same thing, or else the possibility of being outflanked and cut off was going to be a very real possibility.
"Jynx, did you copy that message?" he growled over the comm., grunting as he shifted the weight of the fuel rod cannon on his back.
"Yeah, but it ain't happening." the pyromaniac shot back, and torn could hear muffled gunfire coming from where he was.
"Jynx, they're going to flank you and your men, you and Rachel get out of there, now!" he shouted, not wanting to lose anymore of his brothers or sisters.
"Hate to break it to you, Leader-man," Delta Sixty Seven replied tersely, a bitter edge to his voice, "but Rachel's down and so are the Praetorians, I'm holding this area by my wee onesy!"
"Then what the hell are you waiting for?" Torn practically screamed, desperation in his voice. "Fall back, now!"
"I can't do that sir, there's too many of em, you won't be able to hold off this assault if they bring everything at you at once!" Jynx retorted as an explosion echoed over the comm. "And we already emptied the armory behind us and used most of the ordinance. This hallway's a choke point, and the only area where I can even hope to keep em busy long enough for you guys to get things sorted out. At any rate, We sealed the door behind us, and I got a few homemade goodies for the first few how manage to get through, so you should be good to go."
"Jynx, pull out now, that is an order!" Torn shouted frantically, only to have to fight back sorrow when he got his reply.
"I'm sorry, Sir," the demolitions expert said, his tone that of one who had resigned himself to death, "you're breaking up and I didn't catch that last transmission…"
The comm. line when dead, and he knew that Jynx had switched it off. He was hopelessly outnumbered, and couldn't possibly deal with all that was going to be thrown at him, and he knew. Yet still, he had stayed, knowing consigning himself to death in a desperate bid to buy them enough time…just like Damas had.
An Eco bolt exploding near his head caused him to snap out of his sorrow filled thoughts. He turned around and saw a trio of K.G. that had gotten ahead of the rest of them, probably scouting ahead to see if there had been anymore booby-traps laid out for their comrades. That burning rage filled him again upon seeing them, and he swung about, and fire from the hip, shattering the facemask of the first K.G., and hitting him at a point in his skull that literally resulted in the elf's head being blown apart, spattering the area with bits of bone and brains.
He then dove to the side, firing as he did so, catching the second soldier in the chest. Unfortunately, the enemy's armor held up to the attack, so he was forced to adjust his aim slightly as he finished his roll, and his next shot hit the elf square in the face, and he dropped.
At the same time, the third one of the troopers had been busy firing on him, but his superior armor had absorbed the Eco bolts and the elf had nothing more to show for his work than a few more black marks on the Delta where he had managed to hit him. Opting to try and conserve some ammo now that most of the threat had passed, Torn reached down with his right hand, and gripped his curved knife. With a flick of his wrist, it sailed end over end towards his foe.
A moment later, the man hit his knees, trying in vain to find the strength to tear the dagger from his throat.
"That was for you, Jynx." Delta Forty Two muttered, his voice broken.
He then ran over, retrieved his weapon, before doing a quick about face and heading back in the direction of the Throne room. And his keen ears did not miss the unnerving sounds that he had heard coming from around the corner. The enemy was catching up, and he knew it.
The doors slammed behind him as he rolled through, putting one last, heavily reinforced barrier between him and the revolting army. As he was getting to his feet, he looked around at the others who were in here, most trying to reinforce and barricade the door.
He felt his gut sink as he looked around and saw them. They had less than two hundred people in here. Granted, most of them were Praetorians and Hunter and Ackerson had managed to make it to the final fallback point in one piece, though their armor was covered in scorch marks and carbon scores where enemy shots had connected. He couldn't see their faces, but he knew by the slight slump of their shoulders that they'd heard the entire exchange between him and Jynx, and now knew without a doubt that they were the last of their family. Though considering the size of the enemy force, they likely wouldn't be for much longer.
The rest of the soldiers were a handful of K.G. regulars who had remained loyal to the queen. For the most part, they were untried and untested, not even sporting their first scars of battle.
Still, he thought, as handed his fuel rod cannon over to Ackerson and placed the rest of the weapons down on some supply crates that had been salvaged, if they were going to die, they would die fighting, and he personally aimed to take as many of these traitors with him as he possibly could.
"How did it come to this?" Queen Alicia suddenly inquired, shaking her head as she looked down to her son, who quite frankly looked scared to death. "Lieutenant Commander," she abruptly inquired of Torn, "what odds do you give us?"
"We'll do our best, Ma'am." he said wearily, the hours of fighting and the lost of the other Deltas finally starting to wear him down.
The Queen of Haven frowned, being smart enough to realize what that meant. She abruptly sighed, and a soft crying sound filled the air as Alex began sobbing, understandable considering that he was only three. With a motherly smile, she picked him up and cradled him, rocking him gently and planting a small kiss on his forehead in an attempt to comfort him.
"Perhaps if I just surrendered to him…" she mused suddenly, "perhaps then he'll let you and the others live."
"Every one of us will give our lives to stop them, your Majesty!" Delta Forty Two growled, thumping his fist against his battered armor and gesturing to the other soldiers. "And at any rate, even if you were to surrender, I don't believe that the General would allow for us to live, he's not that stupid."
The Queen looked at him, a sudden understanding coming over her. These troops, even if she were to give herself over to her brother, would still be killed. Not out of malice or spite, but simply because Praxis would remember with whom their loyalty lay, and that was something he would not be able to afford. If that was to be the case, then there would be another person to die here today, the little boy that she was cradling in her arms.
"If that is his intention, then I have one final order for you, Delta." she said, before abruptly thrusting out her son to him. "I want you to take Alex, get him out of here, find someplace safe."
"What?" Torn replied, before waving his arms in protest. "You can't ask me to do this, your Majesty, please." begging as he looked over to his two remaining brothers, who were watching the conversation as they readied their weapons.
"I gave you and order, soldier," the Queen said icily, glaring at him, "and I expect you to carry it out."
Reluctantly, he accepted the young prince, and looked over to his squad mates. Why did fate show him this cruel mercy? Why was he going to be the one to have to do this while his brothers remained behind to die? Why not Hunter or Ackerson? They were his men, his brothers, it was his responsibility to look out for them, make certain they survived. This went against every instinct that he had.
"You're the best one for the mission, Sir." came the calm voice of Ackerson over his private comm. channel, as if reading his mind. "Praxis' forces are swarming all over the city and he's declared martial law. You always had the highest scores in urban combat, so you've got the best chance of getting the job done."
"But what about you guys." he asked, his voice hollow, wishing he could deny what Delta Twenty Eight had said.
"You needn't worry about us, Danny," Hunter joined in with his Russian accent, calling him by a joking variation of his first name, "someone has to watch your back and give you enough time to get clear. And I for one," the marksman said as he got up and walked towards him with a submachine gun and a bandolier of power packs, "intend to make this Delta Squad's finest hour."
Reluctantly, he traded his BR55 for the DC-17, knowing that the rifle was too large to use effectively with one hand, and threw the ammo bandolier over his shoulder.
"They're starting to break through!" came a shout from one of the Praetorians up by the door.
"Time to get you out of here, Sir." Ackerson said, walking with Hunter up to the thrones and pulling them away to reveal an ancient trapdoor escape route, built in the event of just such an emergency.
The heir to the throne in his arms began to cry and reach for his mother, apparently understanding what was about to happen. The Queen of Haven said a quiet goodbye to her child, and then Torn forced himself to move towards that door, ducking down to get inside of it.
"Guys…" Torn began, but found himself overwhelmed by his emotions, and unable to continue.
"Good luck, Sir." Was Twenty Eight's reply, while Oh Five gave final words of "Good hunting."
With that, the door slammed shut, and a lift started rapidly moving down, away from his brothers, and probably into the jaws of Death.
It had been one of the most difficult fights of his life, getting has far as he had, and his armor showed it. Praxis' troops had been everywhere, and only by ducking in and out of back alleys and side streets had he managed to get as far as he had. Alex hadn't helped very much either, as getting in a firefight while holding a three year old that you'd sworn to protect with your life complicated things considerably. To his credit, though, the kid was smart, and knew when to stay quiet.
Nonetheless, things weren't looking good at the moment. They were currently tearing down through the slums, which had fallen into severe disrepair following the attack on the Metal Head Nest, as Haven's defense had taken a significantly higher priority. As a result, this sector wasn't patrolled as heavily by the K.G., and it was largely a gang ruled turf. However, Torn had been counting on the fact of the Delta Squads' reputations to keep any petty members and what not away, and so far that philosophy seemed to be working.
However, eventually, their luck broke and a Krimzon Guard trooper had spotted them, and had quickly called them in. Now, ever soldier in the whole freaking district was closing in on them. At that moment, a couple of six man squads came out of on of the adjacent streets, and Torn quickly pivoted about using his body to shield the young child in his arms, while leveling his DC-17 at his adversaries. Two had dropped, holes steaming in their armor. As they returned fire, he leapt into an alley next to where he was, being careful to not harm Alex while he was doing it.
Having bought himself a few seconds, Torn peered around the alley, looking to see what he could take advantage of. He quickly spotted a couple of old plywood crates that were now empty of their cargo. He ran over and ducked behind them, placing Alex down and putting a finger in front of his visor in order to tell the young prince to remain quiet. Something that would prove unnecessary, despite the fact that the child was shivering in fear.
The day had grown late during their flight, and now in the darkness provided by the slum buildings, Torn was thankful that his low light vision mode kicked in, which would give him an edge over the enemies superiors numbers. He looked down at his submachine gun noticing that the ammo on it was low, and he slipped in a new pack, before peeking up over the create he was behind.
He smiled grimly as he saw a small error made by his enemies. He could vaguely see a foot at the alley entranceway. This meant, if they were to follow standard procedure, that they were evenly split up on both side of the entrance way, and that they'd be trying to come at him in that fashion.
He didn't have to wait long before it started. The first two spun around while a third did a rolling leap to get in the middle. What they received was a plasmite grenade and a furious retaliation from his special forces weapon. His visor went dim for a moment to compensate from the sudden burst of light that the grenade created, and then he started to move forward, leaving his cover behind as he realized that they were likely to have grenades of their own, and he could not afford for them to start hucking them at him with the heir to the throne in the vicinity.
The strategy worked well, despite everything, and his superior urban combat training enabled him to take down his opponents.
Until the last one came at him.
He had the markings of a corporal on him, and was carrying a scatter gun. Torn, who had been crouched down and in the process of reloading when this guy had popped around the corner, threw aside his unloaded weapon and grabbed the gun, knowing that in its battered state, the odds of his Katarn armor stopping a scatter gun at point blank range was slim to none.
He wrestled back and forth with the K.G. trooper, trying to keep that thing pointed away from him. Slowly, he found himself winning.
But then, the entire day of fighting took its toll, and Torn slipped up.
His adversary suddenly reversed the direction of his pull. And, while Torn managed to compensate, there was a slim window of opportunity in which to fire, which the trooper took advantage of. While the Delta did get the gun pointed away from his chest by the time the shot came out of the barrel, he didn't get it all the way clear.
Pain surged through him and he suddenly couldn't feel his left leg anymore. Suddenly finding himself unbalanced, he leapt forward, bringing his foe to the ground with him. The brief flash of agony leant him a strange clarity, and while struggling to keep the enemy pinned beneath him and unable to fire off another round, he reached for his knife, unsheathing it and bringing it up.
Never aim for the heart, Walon had always told them. People didn't die nearly as quickly as you would think from such a wound, and a dying enemy could still take you with him. They'd always been instructed to go for the throat or the head, which was exactly what Torn did.
The blade came down, its expert crafted edge shearing through the light neck protection of his enemy, and plunging in up to the hilt. Killing an elf, an adversary, in this primitive fashion, awoke that feral rage for a third time, as he remembered that these people had now robbed him of his family, his life, and those he had sworn to protect. His screams distorted by his external speakers, He took the dagger out, the waning light reflecting off the red blood on it, and he brought it down again, and again, until he lost track of how many times he had plunged it into the man.
After about a minute, some rationality finally managed to work its way back into him, and he realized that his foe was quite dead. However, what puzzled him was the fact that he still couldn't feel his leg. His answer came when he sat up, and couldn't seem to finish getting up. Reaching down, he at last was able to understand why, and looking back a couple of feet, was able to see the remnants of it his leg, where the scatter gun blast had neatly taken it off just above his kneecap.
Then he understood why he really hadn't felt any pain after the initial surge. The rapid loss of blood was sending him into shock, and lacking a field medkit with some Green Eco to stop the bleeding or any other means, he was probably going to die very quickly. Such was his reasoning as he leaned back against the dura-crete wall of the building.
To top it off, he heard a rhythmic stamping of armored boots upon stone, and when he at last managed to look back up, found himself staring down the business end of a K.G. rifle.
Well, it looked like he would be joining his brothers after all. He closed his eyes calmly, waiting for the shot that would end his life. For what seemed an eternity, he waited, until at last he heard a blast. However, he realized that he was still very much alive after that, and opening his eyes back up, saw the K.G. squad taking aim at something up on the rooftops. However, caught by surprise and in a narrow space as they were, they were quickly cut down by this mysterious ally.
Well, whoever they were, they appeared to be friendlies, and maybe that meant he could get some sleep, he'd never felt so tired in his life. Still, he needed to stay awake just long enough to turn the prince over to them.
On both sides, down the fire escapes of the buildings, they came, and he was somewhat startled by their appearances. Bandanas and headbands covered most of them, and they were dressed in rough, civilian clothing, many of them sporting tears and whatnot in them. Their weapons were defiantly military grade, though, and he wondered where civilians had managed to get them.
He heard vague conversation between them and he realized they were talking about Alex. So, they'd found him, that was good. He listened as closely as he could over his growing fatigue, struggling to keep awake. They were addressing someone called "Shadow" or something like that.
His ears then picked another sound up, and he realized that someone was walking over towards him.
"Hey, I think this guy's still alive!" he heard the person shout.
There was a hurried scramble, and the last thing he could remember, before his world at last grew dark, was a short elf with a mustache staring down at him, with what appeared to be a log through his hair, of all the strange things.
He was suddenly aware of a return to consciousness, but he didn't open his eyes, at least not initially. Aside form the fact that he was quite surprised to find himself still alive, he was able to keep a relatively clear head. He listened, and thought he heard the breathing of someone sitting not to far from him, and his hands felt what appeared to be clean sheets. Slowly, he cracked his left eye open, and could see someone sitting in a chair next to him. It was all he could do not to have said eye shoot all the way open once he realized that it was the same elf that had been looking down at him as he had blacked out. However, what surprised him more than that, was to find out that this elf had green skin, and that it hadn't been his night vision giving him that appearance.
"You're very good at pretending to still be asleep." the elf replied, and chuckled slightly when the Delta made no response. "You can stop playing around, I noticed the change in your breathing rate."
Slowly opening his eyes the rest of the way, Torn sat up in the bed he was on, staring over at the strange elf.
"I suppose some introductions are in order," he began before standing up and walking over to him, "I am known as the Shadow, but you may call me Samos if you would prefer."
"Torn." he said bluntly, before getting to a more pressing point. "How am I still alive?"
"Partially because of my healing skills, and partially due to sheer, dumb luck. You lost quite a bit of blood, and we almost lost you a few times." Samos responded. "Oh, by the way, you've been out of it for about four days now."
"Any news from the palace?" Torn asked, still hoping he could deny what he knew in his heart to be true.
"I'm sorry…" the Shadow said, bowing his head.
The older elf then stood up, and placed his hand on his shoulder in a comforting manner.
The weight of what had happened had finally set in now that he was out of combat, and it came crashing down on him, crushing him beneath the burden. Ackerson, Hunter, Jynx, they were all dead. He was the last of his kind. The pain hit him in the heart like a dagger, and then Torn did something he'd never done in the presence of others: he wept.
"Samos called it 'survivor's guilt,' and said that I'd get over it eventually, but that it could take years." Torn said bitterly, and before Jak could ask him, rolled up his left pant's leg, revealing a limb composed of wires and metal. "Something some of the technicians made for me, though Keira later came along and made it a lot better than it was."
"I'm sorry for what happened to you." the dark elf said, feeling a strange bit of sorrow, some for Torn, some for the young Prince now sitting on the briefing table, his own childish eyes downcast and teary all the while trying to ignore the sudden image of the green hair elf that appeared in his mind's eye. The sorrow was something mirrored by his inner demon, if its spoken thoughts were to be any indication.
"Praxis soon set himself up as 'The Baron' after that, and he became a different person." Torn said abruptly, staring off into space. "The General I fought alongside of at the Nest was nothing like the person currently choking the life out of this place…far as I'm concerned, the officer I would have died for never came back from that disaster. And I wasn't the only one hurt, either." he continued, nodding down to Alex. "He hasn't spoken a word since, like he's got a bad case of post traumatic stress syndrome."
And then the Ex-Delta fell silent, and Jak thought he saw a tear make its way down his face. Deciding it was best to leave the commander alone with his sorrow, he pivoted about, and left the room, heading to mull things over, and get some shut eye.
&
Well, there you have it, Torn's past in a nice, three chapter mini series. This accomplished, the next chapter will likely be a few weeks down the road, timeline wise, and you'll see how Keira is doing, and Jynx will also explain how in Hades he is still alive. After that, it'll be off to Mar's Tomb.Dear Heavens, I think I actually did this whole thing without putting myself down...that's a first...
Any way, I hope you have enjoyed this conclusion to Torn's story, and please feel free to let me know what you thought, be it in the form of criticism, flame, or especially ideas and suggestions.
Thanks for your time, and I shall now leave you with a random quote.
"There are some people that we indiscriminately associate with evil, namely among these being pirates, IRS agents, and people whose names begin with 'Darth'"