Corrin's eyes were flashing. Red-white light flooded his retinas as the Capital fell apart. A firm had pulled at his shirt, dragging him across the ground. He barely lifted his head, groaning. Grange's movements were stead and set. He moved with a purpose, his arms hanging behind, hold on to Corrin and Johnson tightly.
There was a crack as explosive sparks shot from the wall. The wood crumbled and fell into the open, smoky air of Glory. Grange ignored it all, pulling the two Mericans along. Corrin coughed as his eyes closed again for a moment. The sound of gun fire struck him immediately, as did the cries of the Imperials.
His loose body flipped around and Grange turned the corner. Heat was slowly creeping up his skin, raising his hair. There was a great rumble. He sensed it before it happened. The ground creaked and sighed as it bent. Then, it simply gave in. Loose, burnt out wood collapsed to the floors below, and Corrin's feet dangled from a huge hole in the hallway.
Grange turned, his teeth gritted. Corrin's head lolled to the side, examining Johnson. He felt the Martian tugging at his arm as a strain grew. Finally, out of decaying wood, Corrin was pulled up. Johnson looked horrible. It seemed as though scars and wounds were forming on him by the moment, fresh and bleeding. His mouth was wide, his eyes closed. Blood dripped from his cracked teeth.
It burnt in Corrin again. He knew the pain would go. He knew that his Rage would keep him alive…for now. The virus pumped blood furiously, clotting the exit wounds. It was to no avail. Once again, Grange was leading them across the ground. The blood continued to leak from the huge blast in Corrin's flesh. The pain was going, but the damage was done.
Alert, coolant system breach++
The loudspeaker did not lie. Corrin mumbled a warning, but Grange did not hear. They continued down the hallway. "…G-grange…" There was no pause in the Adept's movements. "Grange…we need to get out!" He screamed his voice cracking. Though he knew saving the three lives was more important, the cry had taken his breath away. He coughed, emitting blood.
He knew his friend had heard his pleas this time. Grange took a sharp left, realization striking his face.
Emergency, coolant leak is critical++
Corrin opened his eyes, only to see light. With a roar, Grange jumped. The window before them shattered, glass tearing into Corrin's skin. There was a thump as the Martian landed on the grass. Corrin followed suit, rolling across the cool lawn. In reflex, he flattened himself to the earth. There was a great blast, and an inferno of flame erupted from every window along the building. Everyone inside was dead. It was over.
He was in more agony than ever before. His entire body was screeching to be let free. Screeching for him to let go. But he wouldn't.
Slowly, he rose. No one had helped him. He felt it, the Rage, building for one last time. "Corrin!" Grange exclaimed, his eyes wide. "How…?"
"It doesn't matter now." Corrin shouted over the roar of the flame. He turned, making for Johnson. His hands caressed his friend's back as he picked him up. It was unbelievable; the feeling. He finally had his friend back. Riktus was dead. Johnson was a free soul once more. He looked back at Grange. "We have to get out of here."
Grange nodded. "Come on!" He urged, turning. "There has to be some way back to Merican lines." They silently agreed, setting off. The charred and ruined remains of the building stood as a simple obstacle now.
Corrin followed the sight of his friend's red cloak around the Capital. Immediately, the two leaped back. Bolt shots sped past them, exploding into the walls of the blown-out building. "I got you!" Grange assured, signaling for Corrin to stay back. The Martian dove out and let loose a storm of explosive rounds at the enemy.
Corrin made his way out carefully, leaning out from the wall. The sight beyond was encouraging. An evacuation jet sat ready, and heavily armed Capitalis guards fired away at approaching Imperials. Scurrying Mericans made their way into the safety of the jet as fast as possible.
"Grange, give me cover! We need to get to the jet!" Corrin bellowed, his voice conflicting with the gun shots, explosions, and firefights. Grange complied, laying down a layer of deadly firepower into the enemy.
Corrin dashing into Hell, shells streaming past his head. The wind blew threw his hair, refreshing him. He saw Merican soldiers beckoning him onwards, shouting. He did not hear them. He did not hear anything. His body's soul intention was to save Johnson.
He crossed the threshold of the plane, exhaling a bated breath. As if the man was ready, a medic hurried to his side and extended his arms. Corrin took a step back. "Sir…" the medic said, motioning for Corrin to give him Johnson. Corrin eyed him suspiciously. "S…"
"Yes, yes!" he cried. Quickly, he shoved Johnson into the Medic's arms and turned. Grange took a step onto the plane, wheezing. His leg bled slightly from a las shot. Corrin looked at the wound, worried.
"Its fine, Corrin." he laughed. Corrin nodded, and took a step towards the exit ramp. "What do you think you're doing?"
"I'm going back out there, to fight!" Corrin pleaded.
"You've got to be kidding me…" Grange spat. "You're not going back! You must be insane."
"You can't stop me now, Grange. I…" but Corrin stopped as a large, warm hand clasped his shoulder.
"It's lost, son." it was the Supreme Commander. Corrin looked him in the eyes, aghast. He opened his mouth. "No, Grant. They've taken the city. We came to find the President, but I assume he is dead." Corrin nodded sadly. There was a creak as the exit ramp slowly came to a close. "We've failed." Corrin simply stared at him. Presently, his gaze moved over the Commander's shoulder and into nothingness. "Now, you need a medic."
"No! If I'm to die, then I will! But I'll die fighting!" Corrin protested.
The Supreme Commander smiled the smile of a man who knew his fate was sealed. "Oh, we will." All eyes were upon him. "I'll explain when we arrive."
"Arrive where?" Grange asked.
"Bunker Ultimum." The Supreme Commander stated.
Corrin felt like a cornered beast. He had been staring out the back view sight of the transport plane for some time. The Imperial Army was like a horde. They were a single mass; an unyielding enemy. They came as a pack, chasing the squadron of planes that fled to safety. Corrin felt like a coward. The Supreme Commander would have to have a great explanation for forcing him to leave the city of Glory to burn.
"We're touching down!" The pilot called from the cockpit. Corrin took a step back. The pain was beginning to seep in again. He knew he would pay a toll for his actions. He was pushing his body to extraordinary action, while it had suffered greater injury than ever before.
Slowly, he sat himself down. The cushioned seat felt comfortable; a great contrast to the situation. Electro-straps tied themselves around him automatically as the plane's landing gears blew out a cloud of steam.
It went down slowly, the engines whining at the pressure. He felt the straps pulling tighter and tighter, imprisoning him. With a thud, they landed. The straps removed themselves quickly and freed him. He closed his eyes and cleared his head. An event was about to take place; an event that would change the world forever.
The sound of clean oil against metal resonated through their ears as the ramp lowered. Several soldiers stood, flanking the exit at both sides. Their hands moved in a wave formation, signaling for a quick withdrawal.
Corrin was the first out, shooting upright and storming from the craft. He was ready for whatever awaited. He heard the Supreme Commander's controlling voice from behind him. "Everyone in the bunker, A.S.A.P! I don't want any slack!"
Corrin approached the bunker, which was nothing large; simply a small, black house-like structure. Of course, his first impressions were infinitely incorrect. His eyes lingered on a man standing by the door, his body encased in full body, black armor. His eyes were reddened by helmet lenses, and, though Corrin knew the coloring was fabricated, the guard still looked rather ominous.
Corrin caught the slightest hint of a smile on the man's black-cloth covered face. The tall man moved his hand to the doorway of the bunker, which slid open on command. "Enter." The black-laden man ordered in a deep, foreboding voice.
Corrin did so, walking across the threshold and into the bunker. The interior was much as he had expected, but the sight of a stairwell hinted that more lay below. Someone pressed up against his shoulder. It was the Commander again. The man moved past him and smiled. Corrin looked around, confused and worried. What did the Supreme Commander have planned for them?
Eventually, as more and more entered, the bunker filled up. The Commander looked around. "There aren't enough of us…" he sighed.
"Several planes were shot down sir. We don't have much time." Someone in the audience stated.
"Yes, well, I don't need it." The Commander took a deep breath. "You see, we always knew this was coming; a day when Glory would fall. Imperial forces have pressed resistance in the east coast to a bare line of guerilla warriors. The west coast has been lost all together. In short, Merica has fallen." He took a step up onto a small platform. "But we were prepared. We devised a plan, decades ago. The President at that time decided that, if we were to die out, they would die with us." Corrin began to realize, slowly, where the speech was going.
"On my command," The Supreme Commander continued, "every nuclear reactor in Merica will go critical and detonate. The Imperial Army in Merican will be devastated; not wiped out, but devastated. It is all we can do in assistance to the free world."
"But sir," another Merican said, his eyes wide. "Isn't there a reactor…"
"In Glory." Corrin said, sharing a link with the Commander. This was what had to be done.
"Exactly. After I give the command, we will have two minutes. Then, it will be over." The Supreme Commander breathed a sigh. To Corrin's surprise, it sounded like a sigh of relief.
In moments, the bunker was in total hysteria. People yelled and screamed, calling out in fear. The crowd beat each other to death in an attempt to escape. Corrin moved back for the door and threw out his arms.
"Quiet!" The words came out in an absolute howl. Corrin's voice echoed across the plains outside for what seemed to be ages. A moment passed, Corrin's face red with anger and curved down in disappointment at his countrymen. "Do it." he spat. The Supreme Commander smiled.
They were all silent. The Commander turned to a small computerized machine and began to tap away at it.
Identification++
The voice of the computer rang out, a sign of the future. "Gerran, Michael, Supreme Commander of Merican Forces." The Commander said, flatly and audibly.
Voice recognition confirmed. Commencing operation Zero Hour. The countdown has begun++
Corrin called out for order. Stepping aside, he beckoned them on. "Go, save yourselves, and god bless you." There was a small buzz. "Damn…" Corrin muttered. The wall of the bunker exploded. That was when order was lost. The Mericans rushed from the bunker like a colony of ants. One by one, they were picked off.
The Imperials had arrived.
80 Seconds++
Corrin leapt into the fray. His mouth dropped. Johnson. He had stayed aboard! Corrin's eyes roamed across the bloodshed as Imperial met Merican on the grass.
60 Seconds++
"Everyone in!" the same order emerged from all six jets. Which one? Which held Johnson. He remembered the markings: "Guardian Angel." In a flash, one of the planes exploded. The motors on the others began to spin.
30 Seconds++
Then, he spotted it. A great angel, its cloak the colors of the Merican flag, was painted on the hull. He had never felt the rage like this before. He tore into the combat, ripping man after man apart.
Finally, his feet hit the cold, hard steel of the exit ramp. He threw himself to the floor as it began to close. Smiling, he saw a red-cloaked figure leap in after him.
++10 Seconds++
The plane lifted off. Corrin heard the rushing wind running through the final cracks in the exit ramp before the air-seals applied themselves. His eyes faded as the pain returned finally. It was more defined, more horrible than ever.
5 Seconds++
He took one last look up, seeing Johnson's motionless form lying across several seats on the plane. There was a great blast and a roar. The united screams of a million souls emerged from Merica as he faded into blackness.