Love Child

fadingshadesofpurple

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. It's all copyright Naughty Dog/SCEA.

Chapter 5. An Unwanted Surprise

"Damn it!" Ashelin screamed in frustration, slamming her fist into a nearby wall as she did so.

"Relax, Hon," Bekka, who had followed her loyally from Onin's tent to the closest doctor, stood outside that said doctor's office, trying to desperately comfort her friend.

"Relax? Relax? How the hell am I supposed to relax? I not only find out that I'm pregnant, but I don't even know if the father is alive or dead. All I know is, if he were here right now, alive and well, I'd kill him. Absolutely kill him! I mean, what would he say? Worse, what would my father say?" As this flurry of words came forth from her in frustration and anger, she paced about furiously, and Bekka watched her, shaking her head slowly.

"Who says you gotta tell your old man?" Bekka cocked her head forward.

"What! Not tell him? Are you crazy? He'll find out when I start showing..."

"You can learn to conceal it.."

"Learn to conceal it, yeah, that'll work," she muttered back sarcastically. "Aww..what am I going to do now, huh?"

Bekka came forward, and laid a gentle hand on her friend's shoulder in an attempt to calm her down. "You'll think of something. No, we'll think of something, so don't worry..."

Meanwhile, in the wild snowy mountains North of Haven City, Torn was dealing with a nightmare in terms of snow and Metalheads. He stood in his office, a large room that overlooked the entire drill platform practically, and glared out the window at the snow that fell freely from the sky. This would be their third major snow storm in two weeks, and that was only more bad news for Torn's post: more snow would make it harder to stop any Metalhead attacks.

He had learned this the hard way when, on just the second night of his new post, a blizzard came to the drill platform, bringing with it furious winds and cold temperatures along with the snow. His men, sent to guard not only the entire drill platform, but the men who worked the drills that pulled up the fresh eco, found it not to their advantage. The drill platform workers would drag up huge barrels of eco, and the soldiers would stock them onto the Baron's well equipped Eco Tankers, which would take the eco to the palace, and anywhere else it was needed. The winds pressed against them, the snow fell in droves, lowering visibility to near blindness.

It was all seeding grounds for a Metalhead attack, and many of the soldiers there, including Torn, knew it, so no one dared to breath the words "It could always be worse."

For no one had to in order for things to get worse.

Twelve men had fallen: 5 soldiers and seven workers, before anyone knew that the Metalheads were launching an attack. Torn acted as quickly as he could once it became clear that Metalheads were in the area, dishing out orders to the those under his command to guard the eco tankers and the precious eco being delivered to them, while the workers worked double to load the barrels of eco into the tankers as quickly as possible. No easy task with the winds blowing as they did at that time.

Even with the new awareness, Torn lost nearly half of the men he had brought with him to the post in that first storm alone.

Afterwards, he was given a break.

Then the second storm came, and the casualties rose in numbers yet again.

The Baron, after both those storms, recieved half of his ordered quota of eco. Furious, he had contacted Torn in a rage, demanding that patrols be doubled and more caution taken during storms. While Torn argued his position that more men were needed for this task, and that the Baron needed to send these soldiers as quickly as possible. The Baron won out over Torn's pleas, refusing to send him the men, and blaming him fully for the losses. Furious at his own helplessness in the situation, he found that his reputation was slowly dying within the Baron's eyes.

He was also learning fast that the Metalheads were clever bastards who loved to camoflage themselves behind large snowstorms before attacking their targets with all the fury they could muster.

This brewing snowstorm, Torn could see from his window, would bring "promise" of another full-blown attack that he would have to deflect, even with the limited amount of men and supplies he had.

"Damn you, Baron Praxis," he muttered under his breath.

"Sir?" one of his men, standing patiently behind him the whole time, caught his attention. Torn turned to face this man, and found a soldier so covered in snow that he resembled a snowman in crimzon.

"Reports?"

"Yes. It doesn't look good. The winds are increasing, and the snow's worsening. It looks like there will be another blizzard."

Torn closed his eyes, momentarily cursing what he already knew to be true. "Then we must be ready for an attack at all costs."

"Yes, sir."

"With the snow being what it is, the best way to sense the presence of a Metalhead attack is through sound. We can hear them better than we can see them, even if they're using cloakers, which they often do. So keep your ears pealed, and be prepared for a full-scale attack."

"Yes, sir," the man nodded, and then ducked out of the office.

With that, Torn headed for his own personal armory, and bundled up for the storm and the battle that he knew in his very being would come. Stepping out of his office into the open air, the blast of cold wind nearly knocked the wind out of him. No matter how many layers of clothing he wore, or how much winter proof armor he donned, he still found the cold seeped through to his very being.

Only one thought stopped the cold midway: the thought of her, the warmth of her lying next to him. He longed to see her more than anything else, not merely just for conversation but to apologize for the way he had acted the last time he had seen her.

He had been angry, not at her, but her father, as he was infuriated with the proud dictator now, and he had chosen to take his anger out on her during the last time they had been together. How foolish on his part; he should have realized that he might never see her again. That he might lose his life in this god forsaken hellhole where snow and wind were the only company you could find.

That, and ensuing Metalhead attacks.

He looked to the cloudy sky above him; looked to drill platform beneath and around him.

How many would he lose tonight in this battle?

And would his own life be taken as well?