Chapter 12: Wear and Tear

When Baird came to, it was to utter silence. Darkness pressed in on him from all sides, so absolute he wasn't sure if his eyes were even open or not. The only thing that told him he was still alive was the pounding headache. The blonde man groaned and tried to rub his head to alleviate the throbbing in his head, only to find a great pressure on his chest and right arm. The weight on his chest made it difficult for him to draw a full breath, the chest plate of his armor likely the only thing that had saved him from being crushed to death. And then, the events that had transpired before his little nap came to him.

Oh shit! Sam! He thought frantically. Using his free left arm, Baird shoved and pulled a collection of concrete chunks off of him, enough to expose his face – and catch a mouthful of dust in the process. The taste of ash filled his mouth, and Baird coughed and sputtered to clear it. As he cleared the rest of the rubble off of him, a little light filtered into the bunker from above. Baird looked up at the sky and noticed that a full moon was struggling to pierce a thick wall of clouds, meaning that several hours had passed. All around him, concrete chunks and broken rebar littered the room. The open night air was exposed in several areas, proving that the Hammer of Dawn was well above what the Pendulum War era bunker could take. The column he and Sam had taken cover next to was mostly whole, though the same could not be said for three others in the room. Baird managed to stand, though aches and pains in his legs told him he probably had a few bruises. Focusing on the pile of rubble in front of him, Baird dug until he found a head of black hair, and noticed with some alarm that there was blood mixed into the hair.

"Oh crap. Sam, Sam you gotta wake up!" He said urgently, clearing more space his squad leader. Sam didn't respond, her eyes closed and breathing shallow. She was alive, but the head injury was bad. Baird cleared away more concrete, and began slapping Sam's face firmly.

"Come on, sweetheart. Wakey wakey! Rise and shine!" Sam's eyebrows furrowed, but she didn't open her eyes. Baird shook her shoulders roughly, and got a little more reaction out of the Kashkuri woman.

"Ugh... go away, Baird. I'm trying to sleep..." Sam groaned, pushing his hand away halfheartedly. Baird shook his head for a moment, then went back to shaking her.

"No sleep for you princess. With that head wound, you may not wake up." Baird slapped her face more gently this time, and managed to get her to open her eyes. Baird ignored the slight glow he felt in his chest when her brown eyes met his; he was just glad she was alright.

"You're not the first person I'd expect to wake up next to, but I'm not complaining." Sam said slowly, blinking her eyes blearily in an attempt to wake up. Baird ignored the comment and grabbed her arm, pulling her into a seated position.

"It takes a concussion for anyone to admit I'm likable. Ungrateful bastards, all of them." Baird muttered as Sam looked around slowly.

"Where's Pad and Cole?" She asked, clutching her head and staring at the blood it left on her palm. Baird tore his eyes away from his injured partner long enough to scan the room for the others. Where HAD they gone? There weren't any piles of rubble large enough to conceal the two, and there were no corpses around that Baird could see. Everywhere the ceiling had fallen, the ground was covered with a thick coat of ash. And in that coat, Baird noticed a couple boot prints near the edges.

"Those bastards left without waking us up?" Baird said indignantly. I mean, Pad sure, but Cole abandoning them? Impossible.

"We don't know what happened to the Locust. They could be securing the area." Sam said slowly, her voice echoing her wooziness as her eyes rolled. She struggled to focus, but the world went by quickly, and her sense of time was off. One moment she would hear Baird talking, the next everything would rush forward, as if she was skipping ahead on a video. The feeling gave her a sense of vertigo, and she only barely caught what Baird said.

"...gonna be okay to move? You look rough." His voice was tinged with worry, something that made Sam smirk despite the circumstances.

"You're uglier than I am, blondie. The faster we find transport, the faster we can return to base." She huffed as she attempted to push herself up, but her vision swam and the strength left her arms. Baird caught Lima's squad leader just before her head hit more concrete, but she was clearly out cold.

"Hey! Come on, don't check out on me now." Baird urged, placing his ear to her mouth to detect breathing. The blonde mechanic was relieved to hear her soft, rhythmic breathing, but it meant she was down for the count. As long as he kept checking on her, Sam would be fine.

Outside, Baird heard the deep rumble of an engine turning over. He turned to look toward the source of the sound, hoping it was Pad and Cole. If the two had managed to locate their Packhorse, the road back to Ephyra would be a lot easier to travel. Baird cleared off the rest of the debris that covered Sam, then picked her up and slung her onto his shoulders into a fireman's carry. Their Lancers were nowhere to be seen, and they honestly could stand to replace a rifle or two. Despite the collapsed ceiling, Baird was still forced to make his way topside through the doors they had barred earlier to prevent their scaly friends from coming in and getting better acquainted. The fact that said doors stood unlocked and open meant that Cole and Pad had definitely gone somewhere. Baird hustled up the stairs and out into the open depot, and the sight of it nearly knocked him down.

The world was gray. The resulting explosion from the Hammer strikes had knocked down all but the strongest structures, and stripped the walls from the depot. Baird stood in the ruined skeleton of the building they had taken refuge in just hours prior, and the first thing he noticed was the ash that fell like snow. Flakes of the stuff floated on the wind and fell from the sky like a sheet of death. It covered everything, turning the world monochrome in conjunction with the overcast skies. In the direction of Char, a huge cloud bloomed up into the sky, yet he could see where it touched the ground. The impressive skyline of the once great Imulsion trading city had nearly been leveled, and many buildings had ceased to exist. Baird lifted a hand to brush away some ash from his hair, and froze when he realized what it could be. Grubs, animals, dirt, and humans – all converted into these flakes of nothing. The thought made his stomach turn.

A creak of metal pulled Baird from his thoughts, and he turned to see Pad standing on the ruined crossbeams of the tower they had planted the recording equipment on. The camera in Pad's hand was clearly ruined, but he pulled the black box that held the memory unit with little difficulty. The aged South Islander's face was grim, his eyes hooded as he did his best to ignore the utter Armageddon that surrounded them. The implications of what they were seeing was just too much at the moment.

The rumble of the engine Baird had heard drew nearer, and he saw the Packhorse pull around a toppled boxcar, its headlights casting dancing shadows as the ash continued to fall. Baird walked toward it and was pleased to see Cole open the driver side door. The ex-thrashball star normally filled with exuberance and mirth stared stonily at Baird as he approached.

"Hey Cole. You doing okay?" Baird asked, opening the rear door to place Sam inside where she would be safer.

"Let's just go, Baird. I'm ready to see some people that are alive." Cole's voice was subdued, and he refused to do little more than lean back in his seat to feel Sam's wrist for a pulse. Once he was satisfied that she was alive, the mountain of a man leaned back in his seat and waited.

Pad opened the passenger side door and hopped in, a distant look in his eye as he stared at the small hard drive in his hand.

"Let's get out of here, lads. We've seen enough death for one day." He nearly whispered, and the worst thing was that Baird heard it clearly. The rumble of the Packhorse did little to drown out his words, and nothing else contested the sound in this deserted plane. When they had arrived, the rustle of wind blowing through the trees and the occasional bird call had kept a low thrum of the place, a way for Baird to tell that life was there. Now, the few empty gusts of wind that penetrated the encompassing nothingness did little to set Baird's mind at ease. So he did what was best: he crossed over to the other side of the Packhorse, climbed in back, and leaned Sam against his shoulder as they rolled out. The woman smiled slightly in her sleep as she slumped against him, and they left behind the dead world they had created.

Hoffman stared hard into the mirror, looking for any signs of change. Age had become familiar to him, and every new wrinkle was a mixture of pride and inevitability. Today, he search for the markings of a monster; pointed teeth, red eyes, anything that would match what he felt like inside. The death tolls were still rolling in as his Gears began to comb the destruction outside, yet he had yet to leave the CIC. Three days had passed since the Coalition's man-made inferno engulfed Sera, and there he sat. Hoffman's reflection betrayed only sorrow and regret, both personal and professional. From his standpoint, his job as a member of the Defensive Staff meant he was to save as many COG citizens as possible. Instead, he had turned a key that had condemned billions to death. His personal pain cut as deeply: Margaret had not made it back to the safe zone. In the midst of the aftermath, he had quietly checked all outposts at the edge of the plateau to see if his wife had returned. All reported no contact. Victor had killed his own wife, and the survivors of their artificial apocalypse looked to him for answers.

Solomon Bardry had taken one look at the destruction they had wrought and quietly retired to his office. The story goes that an hour later, an aide came to check on him, only to find that the Chief of Staff had painted his wall with gray matter. The line of succession was short; Hoffman was in charge now. Other than Chairman Prescott, there was no one left to issue commands, no higher power to hand down orders. The one in charge of the Coalition's military was staring Hoffman in the face.

He hated it.

A knock on the door shook Victor from his regretful thoughts, and he pulled his soft cap on.

"Come in." His gruff command had lost none of its bite. The door opened fully, and a blonde woman in an officer's uniform and wearing an earpiece peeked into the bathroom.

"Colonel, we've got recon images from Char. Lima Squad made it back in one piece, but their squad leader was injured." Anya Stroud reported. The blonde CIC officer had inherited her mother's strong jawline and elegant features, what some would call 'battle beauty'. Her reassuring voice had led many Gears from the cusp of death and back to safety more times than anyone could count. She had taken account of nearly every casualty lost to the Locust, and compiled the death count for every operation. Hoffman loved her like the daughter he had never had, and it wouldn't do for her to find him moping.

"Is the injury serious? I know Sam looks indestructible, but I need her not dead." Hoffman's concern was noted in his voice. Anya thankfully shook her head.

"Their bunker collapsed during the strike, and she took a decent chunk of concrete to the head. She says she's fine, she just can't remember the taste of ice cream." The humor was appreciated, but it failed to earn a smile from Victor. He had no right to grin, not as a murderer of billions.

"More's the pity, because I doubt we'll see some for a while. What's the status on the Ravens?"

Anya frowned at that. "Gettner has been looking for every possible alternative, but there's no way to filter enough ash from the intakes to allow the Ravens to fly. At least, I think that's the problem; she used words I'd never even heard before when she reported in." That made sense, at least. Raven pilots were crazy by default, but the seasoned pre-Locust veterans were a few clowns short of a circus. Gil Gettner had adopted the mother hen role and taken the remaining Raven pilots under her wing, assuming de facto command over the Coalition's remaining air assets as both head mechanic and squadron leader. If Gil said it wasn't flying, it wasn't flying.

"I'll speak with her about anger etiquette. She doesn't get to be madder than me. How long have you been on roster, Lieutenant?" Anya had the decency to blush, and her eyes averted from Hoffman's gaze.

"Since twenty-five hundred, sir." She mumbled. Hoffman shook his head.

"Fourteen hour shifts are admirable, Lieutenant, but I need you in top shape. Find someone else to take post, and go catch some shut eye. We've got a lot of work ahead of us." Hoffman tried to conceal his care with professionalism, but Anya had worked under Hoffman since the raid on Aspho Point. She grinned in appreciation, and he could see the tiredness in her eyes.

"Yes sir. I'll try and find Harper; he's due to back already." With that, she closed the door, and Hoffman heard her heels clicking against the floor as her measured pace took her away from his den of grovelling. Anya was an excellent CIC officer, but her dedication to the job and the Gears under her care often left her working over shift. It was a welcome sacrifice, but Anya was better off rested than pulling double shifts.

Hoffman sighed heavily and slowly counted to ten, then finally looked away from the mirror. He was the head of the COG Army, and they didn't need him cowering in a bathroom while the survivors mourned their losses. Hoffman opened the door and walked out, and nearly bowled over a Gear passing through. The blonde Gear dodged to the side, and a familiar sneer crossed his face.

"Hey, watch it Colonel! We don't have to put you in a wheelchair already, do we?" Baird snarled, and continued on his way. On a normal day, Hoffman would have had Baird's guts for garters, but the Hammer strikes had drained him of his normal ferocity. Hoffman watched the mechanic continue down the hall and out of sight, thankful that no one else had seen the display of insubordination. Still, it would do to see what the rush was.

Hoffman followed the hall where Baird had dashed off in such a rush. The only thing in that direction was the medical wing anyway. Hoffman made his way there, and opened the door just in time to see Sam slap the shit out of Baird. The Kashkuri woman was bedridden, but she still had the strength to give Baird a good one across the face. In their own corner, Cole and Pad watched with barely veiled amusement. All four had bandages here and there from some cuts suffered during the Hammer strike, and Sam's head was wrapped from her concussion.

"What the hell was that for?!" Baird demanded indignantly, one hand cupping his face and the other clenched in a fist. Sam wasn't backing down either, her Brown eyes flashing dangerously.

"I told you, just because I'm out cold doesn't mean you can go around like you're in charge! Pad's second in command of Lima, not you!" Apparently, Baird had taken a few liberties on their return to base, but the report hadn't made it to Hoffman's desk yet.

"While I'd hate to stop you from knocking the tar out of Baird, I'm going to need you to enlighten me on what happened, Sam." Hoffman said, making himself known from behind Baird. The blonde man scowled, and walked over to the corner where Pad and Cole were standing. Hoffman looked down at Sam and crossed his arms.

"Well, I'm listening." He prompted. Sam scoffed, and shot another heated glare at Baird.

"When we got back, Baird had me rushed to the ICU as soon as we stopped the Packhorse. Apparently, we had several critically injured Gears that had to wait because the trauma unit was dealing with me. I get knocked on the head, and suddenly I'm the most important case?" Sam growled at the last part, sending more hateful looks at Baird. Whatever measure of bonding the two had shared in the field had obviously gone up in flames once she'd heard of his efforts. Still, Hoffman couldn't fault Baird for the effort. The ICU triaged care as needed, and if they didn't boot Baird out for bringing Sam in ahead of the other cases, that meant that she had been the worst off.

Hoffman looked toward the corner where the men of Lima were standing. "Gentlemen, I'm going to need a word with your squad leader. Go see if that download on your camera is done yet." Cole and Pad nodded, but Baird refused to budge. A smoldering glare from Hoffman got the blonde man moving after a few seconds of defiance, though he did send one last look toward Sam before all three of them walked out. Once the others were out the door, Sam released a breath she didn't realize she had been holding.

"You shouldn't be so harsh on him, Sam. He did it for you." Hoffman said gingerly, pulling up a rolling chair from near the wall. Sam scoffed again, and her eyes went to the ceiling.

"Sigma and Alpha Squads both had men with gunshot wounds and one had a broken leg. I hardly think a bump on the head is more dangerous than that. Baird made a decision that could have cost us men, sir." Her tone was clipped and frosty, just like her biological father whenever he was pissed. It seemed that no matter who raised you, some things were just genetic.

"Sigma and Alpha Squads both survived. Do you honestly think Dr. Hayman would have tolerated something minor in her ICU? She'll kill you with kindness, for sure, but the call was hers. Don't take it out on Baird." He counseled. "Your injuries were worse than you make it out to be. You're lucky your even awake right now."

Sam blew a raspberry at that. "Luck is for the birds. He still should have left the call with Pad." Sam turned her head away from Hoffman, but the bald colonel could see that the whole ordeal wasn't what was bothering her. Something else had crawled up her duff.

"You mind skipping all this operational hooha and explaining what really has you going like this? You seem to be dead set on hating Baird, whether you have a reason or not." Hoffman crossed his arms, waiting for Sam to turn around. The woman was quiet for a minute, but then she slowly turned her head back toward Hoffman.

"He's acting...different. I remember talking to him when I woke up after the strike, but I don't remember exactly what I said to him." Sam admitted. "Since then he's been acting strange. He checks on me a lot more, and I catch him standing around when normally he'd be off fixing something or eating babies." That caused a muffled chuckle from Hoffman, though he disguised poorly as a cough when she glared at him.

"I don't see why that's a reason to constantly be on his ass like he'd shot your dog." Hoffman prodded. A faint blush crossed Sam's features, entirely out of place and all the more telling.

"I think he might have gotten the wrong idea from...whatever I said back there. Baird's a great guy once you get past all the snarky comments and whatnot, but until now I haven't really noticed how much he's done." Sam fidgeted slightly. "I know there used to be a pool going around about me and him, but after the strike... I dunno. I can't make sense of it."

"Well, I can see why anything positive coming from Baird should be treated with concern," Hoffman started with a smirk, "but you two have been tied at the hip since before Emergence Day. Do you think being stuck together for that long might have actually convinced you that's he not a total bastard?" Sam's eyes widened at his implications, but then she shook her head fervently.

"No. Not going to happen. I like Baird and all, but I've got more important things to do besides shagging my squad mates. I still have to find Dad." She said resolutely, staring at the ceiling again. "And we still have to win this war. After that, maybe I can train Baird to play nice for everyone. But until that day comes, he's my friend. Nothing else."

Hoffman sighed when he heard that. Of course, Sam was going by the book and placing the whole world before herself. If she wouldn't slap him like she had Baird, Hoffman would bring up the similarity between Sam and a certain Fenix that stomped around the base.

"Did I ever tell you about my time as an NCO? Before the commission, just before Anvil Gate?" Hoffman asked. Sam shook her head, and the colonel shuffled in his chair to get more comfortable.

"I was getting ready to go to Officer Candidate School, and I was seeing an enlisted woman at the time. We were both respected by our men, and she took better care of me than I ever deserved. Once I was accepted into OCS, I had to end things with her or risk my commission. After that, I met Margaret later on, and we took off from there." Hoffman paused. "I loved Margaret very much, and losing her has hurt me more than any wound I have ever taken. But even a happily married man can look back sometimes and have regrets."

"Margaret's gone? I'm so sorry, Vic...I didn't hear." Sam's anger softened into guilt, and she mentally kicked herself for assuming she was the only one having problems. Hoffman patted her shoulder.

"I'd like to say it's okay, but I don't think it's hit me yet. Margaret put up with me for far longer than any sane woman deserved to. But in the end, when they announced the Hammer strike, it was too much for her. She left, and then she never made it back." Hoffman quietly ducked his head, battling the turmoil within him as he struggled to restrain the guilt and the grief he still suffered. Margaret's loss was still fresh on his heart, but Sam needed his counsel now.

"I feel guilty for even bringing up the time before, so soon after she has died. But Margaret had always approved of my previous relationship. She'd said that myself and my former interest were two peas in a pod. An angry, shouting pod." Hoffman smiled at that, but there was little mirth in the expression.

"Who was it?" Sam asked, and Hoffman chuckled.

"You've met her before, in basic. She taught you how to sneak." Sam's eyes widened considerably at that.

"Sergeant Mataki?!" She asked incredulously.

"The very same. Bernie and I went through so much together, we wound up tackling each other a few times before we even realized what had happened. Even now, years later, I still wonder what happened to her." Hoffman gripped Sam's hand comfortingly. "I'm not encouraging fraternization, and I don't know what kind of relationship you have with Baird. But I will say this: this world is too dangerous and unforgiving for you to push people away. Baird means well, and he's looking out for you. Considering the prickly bastard hates everyone else, that's more praise than you give him credit for. We don't have much time for regrets these days, Sam. Not with monsters kicking our doors down." With that, Hoffman stood from his chair and rolled his shoulders. Sam looked down thoughtfully as she considered his words, and the way Baird had been acting since he'd carried her back from the ash.

"I'm not going to just jump in bed with him, Vic. But I guess, he does have some endearing qualities..." She allowed. Hoffman laughed at that.

"You've tamed a mouth as fierce as Dr. Hayman, and you consider that endearing. Kids these days." Hoffman turned and walked back towards the door, throwing one last look behind him at the bedridden woman he'd watched grow up.

"Get some rest Sam. And try not to break Baird. For once, he actually means well." Hoffman said, and walked out the door.

Sam stared after him for some time, his words echoing in her slightly damaged head as she considered what he had said. Baird had been by her side since the start of her military career, with a few gray areas where he had been assigned other stations. That was how he had met Cole. But no matter what, if he was in the area, Baird always came looking for her. She was something he actually like in what he perceived to be a very shitty world. She had been so caught up in following orders and looking for Naruto that she had never looked twice at the way Baird treated her. And considering his social approach to everything was to flip it the bird or shoot it, she could see how there might be something he hadn't told her.

I'm getting ahead of myself. Sam thought, ending that line of thinking right there. Just because he treated her well didn't mean he was looking to hook up. If that were the case, half of the Gears she'd fought with would have lined her bunk with roses and chocolates...if there were any chocolates left. With nothing left to do but lie in bed and ponder, Sam leaned her head back to rest. Soon enough, the outside world went dark, and she slipped into a dreamless sleep.

An orderly, a squat middle-aged woman too old for combat, opened the door again, and began the process of refreshing the supplies of the room: replacing blankets, emptying rubbish bins, and making sure that Sam's linens were clean. So studious was the orderly in her task, she didn't notice the man sneak in behind her and take a seat next to Sam's bed. Baird looked down at his partner in crime with a frown, wondering why she'd chewed his ass this time. He was a total dick to more people than not and he knew it. Hell, half the civilian population recognized him on sight, and either asked him to fix something or got ready for a tongue lashing. But that was Baird being himself. Around Sam, somehow she just didn't deserve the bite in his words. She'd been a mystery to him at first, as had anything connected to her surrogate father. But over time, she'd ceased to be the woman raised by a living weapon, and had become his squad mate and friend. Considering his list of friends was comprised of two people, it was a small miracle she was still alive. From popular opinion, not many could handle Baird.

The orderly bustled out with a couple trash bags a not even a look back, leaving Baird and Sam alone in the room. The blonde man looked down at Sam one more time, then stood up to leave.

"Get well soon, Sam." He whispered, and then he was out the door. The Packhorse needed some new parts after sucking in ash for so long. So preoccupied was Baird with his thoughts on the repair, he didn't notice the small smile that graced Sam's lips.

Chairman Prescott looked at the reports Hoffman's scouts had compiled after the strike, and he couldn't help but feel despondent. He and his administration had executed the largest bombing in history, and it had been aimed at his own constituents. His people had burned, and for what? To deny the Locust all the land except for what he could see from his office. The ashen taste in his mouth reflected that which still fell from the sky. The CIC analysts speculated that the ash would fall for a week more, meaning that they were confined to Ephyra until that time.

The strike had not been entirely obliterating, however. The foot patrols were reporting survivors in the ruins, ash-covered people huddled in gutters and wine cellars that had escaped the man-made inferno Prescott had dropped on the world. The Gears had attempted to recover the survivors and get them to safety, but in nearly every situation, they had run off before the COG could help them. The people left behind regarded the COG with fear and hatred, not that they could be blamed. In fact, a common name had already cropped up to describe the abandoned civilians: Stranded.

While the Stranded cursed and spit at his soldiers, Prescott's attention was focused on the enemy. No Locust contact had been reported since the Hammer strike, but you don't beat a subterranean enemy with an orbital strike. Odds were, they were waiting out the ash storm just like the Gears were, biding their time and licking their wounds. Prescott had reviewed footage of the Hammer strikes from teams like Lima that had set up observation points.

The destruction had been colossal.

In one quadrant, a Brumak, an immense creature strapped down with large cannons and mean as hell, had walked underneath the camera just as the strike came down. The resulting fire had reduced the large creature and its weaponry into a pile of melted slag and scorched meat. In another, a large group of Drones had been ransacking a COG supply depot, only for the wave of fiery death to turn them all to ash.

The Hammer had destroyed their enemies in every strike, but the Locust were still out there. Prescott could only hope that they would remain defeated for just a little more time. As he continued to review the reports, a knock came to his door. Three sharp strikes, confident and punctual, meant that it was Louis again.

"Come in." Louis Settile took his invitation and entered quickly, her confident stride betraying no remorse or any detraction whatsoever from her duties. It was as if the Hammer strikes didn't faze her in the slightest. Prescott knew that was not true, but she would have had her breakdown in private. The secret hand of the Chairman had better things to do than regret.

"Sir, our systems are still in shock after losing so many assets, but we managed to get in contact with our off-site research teams." She intoned as she placed a long, perforated stack of paper in front of him. Prescott set his report down and grabbed the top sheet, noticing that they were all connected. It was if this had come from a reader at some type, printing connected readouts instead of individual sheets. At the top was a series of letters and numbers indicative of encryption, and made no sense to the Chairman. As he read farther down into the second page, more comprehensible script marched across the page, and a sender address drained all the color from the Chairman's face: New Hope.

"Oh dear." Prescott said, and he read the papers as follows:

CONTACT LOST/ JACINTO CIC NOT RESPONDING/ CRITICAL SYSTEM FAILURE

REBOOTING...

…

…

COMPLETE. STARTING DATA LOG.

RUNNING SYSTEM DIAGNOSIS, OS 'NILES' OPERATING...

PRIMARY STASIS MODULES OPERATING NORMAL/ SECONDARY STASIS MODULES COMPROMISED

PROJECT COMMAND OFFLINE/

PROJECT SECURITY OFFLINE/

ASSUMING DIRECT CONTROL... COMPLETE

TEST SUBJECTS 16, 17, 18, AND 20 EXPIRED. REROUTING POWER TO REMAINING PODS/ DAWNBRINGER STASIS POD OPERATIONAL

…

…

…

Prescott breathed a sigh of relief at that: Namikaze was still in stasis. He cast a glance up at Settile, and her expression of concern indicated that there was more to be read. So he continued.

SYSTEM LOG: DAWNBRINGER.

SUBJECT SHOWING INCREASED ADRENALINE LEVELS. ADMINISTERING SEDATIVE/

ALERT: SEDATIVES INADEQUATE. SUBJECT EXITING REM SLEEP. COMPENSATING...

ERROR.

SEDATIVES FOR DAWNBRINGER EXPENDED. DAWNBRINGER PRIORITY 1. SIRE PROJECT PRIORITY 2. REROUTING SEDATIVES FROM PROJECT SIRE SUBJECTS...

TEST SUBJECTS 2, 3, 4, AND 5 EXITING REM SLEEP/

STASIS BREACH DETECTED ON PODS 3 AND 5/

TEST SUBJECTS 2 AND 4 EXPIRED/

DAWNBRINGER SUBJECT EXITING REM SLEEP/

DAWNBRINGER ADRENALINE LEVELS ABOVE ACCEPTABLE PARAMETERS. COMPENSATING...

ERROR/

ERROR/

CATASTROPHIC SYSTEM FAILURE/

ENGAGING BLACK BOX PROTOCOL... COMPLETE.

DATA LOG TRANSMITTING/

SPECTROGRAPHIC READINGS ON DAWNBRINGER BEYOND MEASURED LEVELS/

STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY OF FACILITY COMPROM5ED/

CATASTROPHIC 5Y7EM FA1UR3/

ALER7. POWER LO...

The rest of the paper was a series of dots, numbers, and an unintelligible combination of letters that clearly had been cut off mid-encryption. Prescott dropped the paper on his desk and cradled his head in his hands. The Hammer strikes had bought humanity time against the Locust threat, but now it had awoken something even more deadly. If Namikaze was active, no one in the COG hierarchy was safe. The one in the least amount of danger was Hoffman, and by his own report the first thing the two had done was fight.

"We need to run damage control. Dispatch a squad to New Hope, and get Hoffman in here." Prescott said gravely. Settile cocked a brow at that.

"Sir, he's not been made aware of what the previous Chairman was doing there. He might take it...poorly. And the Guard was largely recalled to Azura prior to the strikes. We have no squads available with the proper security clearance." She leaned forward on his desk, and Prescott looked up at her with an expression she had not seen before: fear. The Chairman's features had contorted into a hunted, fearful look that did not befit the leader of nations.

"Given enough time, he'll find out anyway. And if our intelligence on Dawnbringer is correct, neither you nor I will survive to see it. Get him in here." Prescott snapped, and stood up to face the ash covered window behind his desk. Settile's face cooled into a stony visage of neutrality, and she bowed out. They would discuss the decision later, but she would carry out his orders. He was the Chairman, after all.

Settile's muted footsteps on the carpet faded away and the door opened and shut smartly. He had not meant to be so harsh with Louis, but she didn't seem to comprehend the danger they were now in. At the very least, some closure might – MIGHT - mend the gap between Naruto and the COG to the extent that he wouldn't drown the civilians in the blood of their superiors. Several minutes passed as Prescott watched the ash fall like snow upon the city, and he almost buzzed his secretary to hurry the process along when his door opened again. Prescott turned slowly, though his new-found paranoia urged him to identify the person entering immediately, lest it be a blonde man here to end him.

"Sir, reported as ordered." Col. Hoffman stated, a look of slight confusion on his face. He was likely wondering why he had been called in, and Prescott had no idea what Settile had told the colonel to get him in the office so quickly.

"Victor, I have a mission for you. Or rather, you have a mission for Lima Squad." Prescott said as he turned, his hands clasped behind his back in his signature stance of comfortable authority. When in reality, he was shivering with a mixture of dread and anticipation. True to his nature, Hoffman's mulish nature came to the front.

"I hope we have some time to complete this mission, sir, seeing as how Lima's squad leader is recovering from head trauma in the ICU." Hoffman retorted, and Prescott's eyebrows met as he sent a cold glare toward Hoffman.

"I'm well aware of the injuries sustained by Sgt. Byrne. And we do have time, however, you'll see how important the mission is once you find out the target." The Dawnbringer file had sat in his desk for some time now, like a revelation waiting for its time. Prescott hefted the manila folder and threw it at Hoffman, who caught it with a look of surprise. When he read the title, the colonel gritted his teeth in rage.

"Right after we burn the whole fucking planet, you decide to uncork the one guy that could have prevented EVERYTHING! If we'd had this a year ago, the Locust would have been kicked right back down their holes, and we wouldn't have had to scorch the entire world!" Hoffman's voice rose in volume, as it usually did, and Prescott was once again thankful that his office had been soundproofed.

"Mr. Namikaze's disposition with COG leadership is well known, Victor. Had we freed him, he likely would have hunted down the very people responsible for our continued existence, sans your hard fighting Gears." Prescott said as he sat in his chair, steepling his fingers as he did when he wanted to get a difficult point across. "I'm well aware of Namikaze's destructive capability. I just didn't want it pointed at the people coordinating our survival. Considering the actions of our previous administration, I doubt he'd stop and let us talk it out."

"He's not some animal that you just let off a leash! He hates fighting, absolutely hates it. He would have given you a chance, but you left him locked up like some lab rat while the world burned. Now, he might not listen." Hoffman cautioned. Prescott shook his head again.

"I'm not sending a team to free him, I'm sending a team to find him." Prescott motioned for Hoffman to come closer, and handed the transmitted data log from New Hope to Hoffman. The grizzled veteran read the paper at a fevered pace, and he chuckled with some venom when he finished.

"We're not going to free him, he broke out. And you want us to make sure he doesn't wipe out the top dogs of the COG." Hoffman surmised. Prescott offered a dry look.

"You do realize that includes you now, Victor." The bald colonel laughed, outright laughed, at that.

"You've clearly never met him, Chairman. I'm perfectly safe from him. You, Settile, and all the spooks that orchestrated that entire fucked up program... not so much." Hoffman's grin faded. "So you want me to send Sam out to find her long lost father, both to bring him into the fold and to keep him from mounting your heads on a wall."

"She gets closure, he gets his daughter back, and we go back to fighting a war. In a way, everyone wins." Prescott said with a sigh. "At least, that's the plan."

"I'll let Baird know, but we'd better not tell Sam yet. If she finds out, she'll go tearing off before the ash settles, and that head injury would ensure that Naruto would be doubly cross with us." Hoffman groused, and turned to leave. He walked across the carpet and opened the door. But he couldn't resist one last parting shot.

"You could have avoided all of this, Chairman. Dalyell was the one that locked him up. As soon as you took office, you could have sprung him. He'll be very much aware of that." Without giving Prescott time to respond, Victor exited the room and closed the door. This left the Chairman alone in his office to ponder his next move, and whether he'd be alive to make it.

"I know, Victor. I know he will."

The memory of his friends' deaths, the taste of Ino's blood in his mouth, everything drove Naruto over the edge. He roiled in a sea of rage, one so potent Kurama would have been proud. That damned Madara had cost him everything, but it was Naruto that struck the final blow. As much as he blamed the old Uchiha for the deeds, it had been his hands, his jutsu, gods his teeth that had ended his friends.

That rotten old fuck! They were coming to help me, and I killed them! How could I let him do that to me?! Naruto raged, and his limbs began to twitch in the stasis pod. The memories played themselves over and over in his mind, and he watched helplessly as he ended the very people he had grown up with, the ones that had accepted him and fought by his side until the bitter end. He had killed them. Self loathing and hate coursed through the shinobi, and his sharp teeth bit clean through the respirator that kept him breathing in the tank. The IV in his arm was torn out, and he pushed the broken mask away and gagged as he tore the tube out of his mouth. With the mask gone and his source of oxygen destroyed, Naruto's adrenaline kicked into overdrive. But still, he focused on the memories.

Ino, Anko, Shikamaru... I did this to them. I can't believe I let that miserable Uchiha bastard control me like that! His anguish coursed through him, even tough he could faintly hear the alarm klaxons blaring outside his stasis tube. He focused all of the hate, all of the remorse, all of his negative feelings into two words, as his right eye pulsed power. It was a technique that had obliterated his village, one he had fought against with every strategy, and nearly came up empty. It was the technique of a man that claimed to be God.

Shinra Tensei!

In a training situation, Naruto would have pushed enough power into the technique to trigger it, and likely would have only caused a slight breeze. But the raw emotion and power that the shinobi poured into the technique had more destructive results. Gravity bent to his will, and a sphere of power cast everything around him outward. The stasis pod buckled and burst, sending that disgusting nutrient bath all over the room. The pulse continued, bending metal and shattering walls as he screamed his rage.

Outside, any onlooker would have sworn that a nuclear device had been detonated beneath the New Hope facility. The ground buckled and broke, and the building shattered before being thrown to the wind. Walls became chunks, chunks became pebbles, and pebbles became atoms as the sheer power utterly destroyed the building. When the technique finally ended, Naruto was left lying in a crater five hundred meters wide, and ten meters deep. He was shirtless, clad only in his shinobi pants and sandals. Exhausted from his forced hibernation and the effort of the technique, he could do nothing put pass out as he laid in the dirt. From above, errant flakes of ash cascaded down from on high, and the last thing he saw was one land next to face.

And then, darkness claimed him.