Ch. 2: Enemy of my enemy

AN:

Wow. I was surprised how many people took an interest in my story so soon. A special thanks to the two that reviewed and those who favored my story and I want to thank you for being supportive. Thanks to everyone who took the time to read my story so far. I apologize for the mistakes in Ch.1. I do not know how I overlooked Harlem when I know it is Harlan.

The other minor mistakes, oh and the Replica thing. To be honest, I never considered them that interesting besides how awesome some of their armor looks in the first and second game. So, I just assumed that they were all from the same "batch" so to speak. For the story, I am referring to the Variant VII Replicas.

A quick note for the rest of the story: I created Alpha 1 just to have some fun and I promise he will be nothing more than a constant supporting character. Consider him a wingman for Becket.

"Aristide? What are you doing? We have to stop Alma." I looked from the squad's communication liaison to the president of Armacham. I nearly cried out in concern when I saw the handgun in her grasp. The way she held it was what worried me. She was too casual with it, like someone who was so absorbed in their own false reality that they were bound to do anything to stay in their denial. Stokes, finally noticing the weapon, backed away from the older woman. Strapped to the chair, I could only observe the scene helplessly as the cold and calculating executive tried to explain her scheme.

She said with a somewhat desperate tone, "That is exactly what I plan to do."

Stokes retorted back, "Becket is not strong enough without the amplifier. She will absorb him." Personally, I believed that no matter how amplified any individual's psychic abilities became, that he or she could stand up to Alma in a psychic battle. She was just too powerful and the disturbing fact was that she was getting stronger by the minute.

The crazed woman replied with an emotionless tone, "And then we will lock them away."

Nausea hit me as my head began throbbing. I panicked, but not because of the argument raging mere inches from me. I could feel her approaching and because of Aristide, I was now defenseless. I tried to warn them, but as I went to speak, I was suddenly sprayed with Stokes's blood. I gagged as traces of her blood invaded my mouth. The taste of iron nearly caused me to dry heave but I forced myself to swallow the invading liquid. I saw the young blonde soldier collapse onto the hard metal floor. I mentally swore as another member of my squad fell.

I had seen horrific sights in my previous assignments. I knew how vulnerable and fragile the human body was. However, what I had seen on this mission was infinitely beyond what I had suffered through in the past. This was not combat. This was slaughter. Aristide was addressing me, but her words failed to register with my auditory senses. Nothing she could do to me was even remotely close to what the mother of the apocalypse was capable of doing to me. As if on cue, I noticed Aristide glance off somewhere behind me.

Before I could blink, the being that had been hunting me since my arrival in the city was before me. The throbbing in my head intensified to the point that I had to concentrate just to prevent blacking out. I was mildly disappointed when my stalker did not mutilate the woman who was ultimately responsible for my living nightmare and the demise of my squad members.

Fatigue hit me as the realization that every drop of blood and sweat that Dark Signal had shed, after being thrust into a situation that its unprepared members had no business being involved in, had been in vain. All our sacrifice and this was how the story ended? She finally had me on a proverbial silver platter. I was a soldier who was about to fall in battle without even firing back at my attacker.

I felt no fear as I scowled defiantly at the demon as she stalked towards me. She seemed to be having difficulty containing her excitement as her physical appearance sporadically shifted from the disgusting malnourished hag to the extremely attractive seductress. I waited for her to do what she had before my eyes to Griffin and Fox. Instead, she moved closer to me.

In my peripheral vision, I saw Aristide manipulating the control panel. The sphere prison sealed as my tormentor leaned in as if to embrace me. I started to struggle against the straps as I realized with indescribable dread that she was indeed about to force herself onto my defenseless body. "No!" I yelled as she descended upon me.

"Michael? Michael! Wake up!" Alma's haunting melody pulled me from my torment. The obsessed demon of my nightmare was replaced by the worried woman who was snuggling against my now sweat soaked Dark Signal attire. I shook my head to clear my still frantic and racing thoughts so I could think clearly. I was breathing heavily as I turned sideways so I could sit up with my legs over the side of the bed.

While I tried to get my reeling body back under control, Alma simply laid her head against my right shoulder. After my breathing noticeably relaxed, I heard her humming the simple melody that the music box she so adored played. There was something abnormally relaxing about her voice whenever she hummed a melody. Finally, with a deep breath, I managed to smile weakly at my constant companion. With concern still in her voice, she asked with her mind, "Nightmares?"

My smile increased briefly before I replied, "You know the answer already. I did not wake you did I?"

Her concerned expression morphed into a wispy smile before she replied, "I do not sleep remember?"

A knock on the door interrupted our lighthearted conversation. I called out, "Enter."

An unarmed Replica Heavy Trooper, who I immediately identified as Alpha 1, opened the door and a small mass ran around him. Our daughter jumped into Alma's torso and both were sent back against the mattress. I heard giggling behind me as I telepathically questioned the white ceramic masked trooper about the situation. With the standard robotic tone due to the voice modifier built into his mask, the trooper audibly responded, "Sorry to disturb you, Brother. The VIP requested an escort to a safer location." The drawback to the Replica's generic nature was their inability to report specific details.

Even this particular trooper, with the identifying telltale shrapnel damage on his weathered mask, that has fought alongside me in every single battle that I have been in since our paths crossed, is still bound by his programming to behave like a Replica. However, he has free will unlike his brethren, with the only other exceptions being Foxtrot 813 and technically Lieutenant Stokes since the original Keira had been killed by Aristide and the current one was a clone created by Fettel.

Most notable of all was the past that he and I had shared long before I had returned to Fairport as a Delta Force Operative, which was not revealed to me until after he and I had already become close. Of all the troopers, I trust him the most. I will even bet my life on his loyalty and fighting prowess. As such, I have appointed him to the position of being a constant bodyguard of my daughter, who thinks of him as her uncle, now that combat missions against various Armacham installations and personnel are over.

Most of the time, our daughter clings to her mother so Alpha 1 and I are as inseparable as Alma and I are. However, whenever Alma and I find ourselves having an intimate moment, Alpha 1 will entertain our daughter with stories of the adventures that he and I have had. I nodded at him before I said, "Understood Alpha 1. Standby for further orders."

My friend replied with his distorted voice, "Order confirmed. Awaiting further orders."

I looked back behind me to find Alma in her child form consoling her frightened daughter. With a gentle voice, I inquired, "What is the matter? Did something scare you?" My daughter lifted her head from where she had buried it into her mother's chest and looked at me with her piercing grey eyes. In my mind, I saw flashes of her memories. My heart sank as I realized what had frightened her. Like her oldest brother, her mind was immune to Alma, but she was able to look into her mother's mind.

I knew firsthand how dangerous that was. There were some places in her warped mind that were too dangerous for even Alma to venture. Alma read my thoughts and hugged our daughter closer to her. I placed my gloved left hand on her back and started to rub her trembling form. The whole scene reminded me of when Alma first started to win my allegiance as she helped me escape from the amplifier. I let my mind drift back into my memories.

"Why everyone hate?" The red dress clad child demanded with a sorrow-filled tone. I watched transfixed as she transformed from the unstoppable killer into a fragile child. Her eyes went from being lit up like hellfire to being dull and full of agonized sorrow. She collapsed back onto the amplifier wall, slid down its surface until she was sitting against it at its base, and then buried her face in her hands. To have said that I was shocked would have been an understatement. The being that was the stuff of nightmares and horror movies was sobbing.

Between sobs she said, "Daddy hate. Mean people hate. Sons hate. You hate." She looked back up at me and asked with a broken, desperate tone, "Why?" I stood from my kneeling position. I still wanted to make her suffer, but I also needed to escape from this device. Since I was one of their experiments, I knew that Armacham was unlikely to let me out anytime soon. My superiors had most likely labeled me as missing in action so I could not count on any assistance from the U.S. Military.

Assuming that Morales was still alive, I could have contacted him and advised him of the situation. However, either this device or Alma was interfering with my com link. As bitter as I was about Alma's actions, I realized that it was not her I hated. What I really hated was Armacham. That company was ultimately responsible for everything that had happened. Alma, Paxton Fettel, the Replicas, Project Origin, the explosion, my squad's demise, the deaths of my fellow Delta Force operatives in the Armacham Headquarters, and the deaths of the innocent residents of the Auburn district; it was all their responsibility. My ego was getting me nowhere. I needed help and she was the only one willing or able to help me.

Besides, as much as I wanted to deny it, I was becoming more and more attached to her. Perhaps I had been so blinded by my own fear that I had failed to see the overall chain of events. Armacham, or in this case Aristide, had done everything possible to make me as irresistible to Alma as they could. The poor girl had probably been driven absolutely out of her mind as I continuously fought her off. Especially considering that she seemed confused about her own attraction to me. After all, when I first encountered her in the penthouse, she was definitely surprised that I was even aware of her presence. She had the emotional range of a child so obsession was the only way for her to react to what she was feeling. As for that thing growing inside of her, I would worry about that when it became an issue. My first priority was to get out of this facility.

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend." I said calmly.

Confused, Alma asked, "What?"

I turned to her and explained, "We have a common enemy. Armacham must pay for what they have done. Get me out of here, and I promise I will do whatever you want me to." In an instant, she was standing before me. Her eyes were ablaze with sinister joy and she beamed up at me with an ominous smile. Her legs were covered with fresh blood up to her knees and the helm of her dress was peppered with dried blood. I could feel the miasma surround us once more, but this time, I did not feel threatened.

She asked with a flat voice, "You promise?" I knew I was at the point of the no return. I could either accept my place at her side or remain trapped here until Armacham came for me.

I sighed before I replied, "Alma, get me out of here and I will burn the world if you want me to." Giggling, she disappeared in a cloud of ash. Before I could look around for her, I collapsed onto my hands and knees in agony as severe pain erupted inside my head. I grasped opposite sides of my head as I screamed. My vision went out of focus as it also became tinged with the same orange color that it had when I was on the cargo tram. A red aura enveloped my body and I felt the urge to vomit. "Alma." I managed to choke out.

I heard her whisper in my mind, "Almost done. Don't fight." The pain doubled in intensity and despite my attempts to stop it, I blacked out.

When I regained consciousness, I found myself lying prostrate on the metal floor. My body ached but I also felt a strange yet welcomed feeling of strength. My eyesight had returned to normal. I groaned as I started to haul myself to my feet. I started to stand but my right knee buckled. Before I could fall, two small arms caught me from behind. Using her for support, I finally managed to stand despite the protests by my joints. After waiting for my legs to settle, I wheeled around to face her. She had an innocent smile and she was rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet.

With a raspy voice, I asked, "What did you do to me?" She casually glanced over to the chair and then back at me. I understood her gesture but I asked just to make sure, "You amplified my psychic output?" She nodded in response. I smirked before I said, "Let's do this." Giggling, she disappeared. I returned to the chair and then examined the floor just to the right of it. Luckily, my assault rifle was still where I had left it. I bent down and retrieved my firearm. Examining it, I was relieved when it was still functional. Unfortunately, when I released the clip, I saw that it was empty.

With an annoyed tone, I muttered, "Of course it is empty." I reached to my ammunition pouch. As if to further irritate me, I found that all of the ammunition that I had scavenged was gone. I nodded my head before I remarked, "And fuck no I do not have any spare clips. That would just be too easy wouldn't it? Hell yeah, ammunition is for pussies."

Before I could rant about how asinine my situation was, I heard the sound that I had been waiting for more than any other sound in my life. The spherical prison I had been contained in finally unsealed. Nearly jumping out of the tiny space, I exited the amplifier all while secretly wanting to unload an entire magazine into the chair and then toss in a frag grenade just for good measure. I spotted Alma over by the console and made my way to her. I paused at the side of Stokes and knelt down.

Softly, I said, "I'm sorry." Upon standing, I saluted her one last time before I walked across the bridge to the other side of the room.

As I reached Alma, she asked me, "So what first?"

I replied, "Regroup." I then spoke into my com link, "Morales do you copy? Over."

I saw his image in my HUD as he replied, "Who the fuck is this?"

I responded, "Santa Claus. Who the Hell do you think it is? It's Becket."

There was a pause before Morales said, "Bullshit. Becket is dead."

I sighed before I said, "Redd called me Bucket."

I heard him laugh and when he responded, I heard the familiar comradery in his voice. "Damn Becket! I knew you were a bad motherfucker, but I had my doubts that you would come out alive. Where is Stokes? Did you beat Alma?"

I started to walk out of the room as I explained, "Stokes is dead. Listen, I say we call an abort on the mission. We need to regroup. Are you still in the city?"

Alma walked beside me as I made my way through the airlocks and walkways. She would occasionally run out ahead of me and skip along. Morales said, "Stokes is dead? Fuck this shit man; I am with you on the abort. ATC attacked in force when they got wind of what we were up to so I had to retreat. The APC is still operational but this city has turned into a free-for-all. ATC is slaughtering civilians and engaging Replicas all over the place. Then, of course, there are those…people, or at least I think they are people. I have not encountered very many yet but the last group tried to suicide bomb the APC. Not to mention the fact that the entire city has been quarantined. Becket, please tell me you have a plan to get out of here."

Looking at Alma, who had stopped to gaze at me when she heard the last sentence that Morales had said, I smiled before I replied, "We are not leaving yet."

Confused, he replied, "We're not? Why? Did you find something worth saving? Becket, what about Alma?" Alma's carefree demeanor suddenly became one of intensity as the sound of multiple boots impacting the metal floor alerted both of us to approaching ATC soldiers.

I said to Morales, "I will explain later. Quick, where are you?"

He replied, "Underground garage at the intersection of 7th and Maple." Alma ran over to me as the soldiers' voices drew closer.

I said to him, "Got it."

Looking at my new ally, I requested, "Alma, intersection of 7th and Maple. Can you get us there?" She nodded and grasped my right leg. ATC soldiers arrived at our location just in time to see us disappear.