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Killzone: Underworld

Chapter 2: Of Fire and Shadow

James...it's time to get up...

Don't...want to...too early...

James, don't make me tell you again...

Just...five more...minutes...

James, get up! Now! Move it before I-...

"I'm up, I'm up!"

Taylor awoke with a start...and immediately regretted it. Unconscious, dreaming, sleeping...whatever he'd been doing, whatever his state, he was at least mercifully free from the real world. A real world named Vekta, currently reeling from an invasion by the helghast. A real world, carrying on with its rotation to where it was now night in the south-eastern hemisphere, one of the planet's two moons shining like a pale angel. A world where Taylor was in as much pain as the planet itself

Damnit...why...don't we...have...helmets?

Taylor didn't know. All he knew was that his body ached all over, and that the only reason he hadn't broken something was likely because of his body armour. Armour that unfortunately, didn't extend to his head, which was soaked in sweat, dust and dry blood from the fall. Oh, and it was pounding like a sonic jackhammer. With one hand used to push him off the ground and the other clutching his forehead, the lieutenant managed to move up against one of the walls of the channel, exhaling all the way.

Of course, we have body armour. Very heavy body armour. But why...don't we have...

The CO shook it off. There was no use complaining. Especially when he had no-one to complain to...for some reason. Hadn't he had a squad with him when he crossed the bridge? A bridge that...was no longer there?

Taylor groaned-thinking was only making his headache worse.

It was like a dream, yet far less pleasant than his flashback to his primary school days and far less clear as well. Yet while the memory felt as insubstantial as the dew of early morning, the trooper found it coming back. He'd been leading his men over the bridge that extended across the stormwater channel, chasing the remaining helghast...yet something had happened. An explosion...it had sent him flying through the air...

But I jumped...I heard it first. But what about the rest of the...oh God...

The stormwater channel had been dry to that point. As the barely digested contents of a MRE hit its concrete, it became slightly less so.

Ten RRF soldiers. Ten men. Ten comrades. Ten people who had been reduced to being less than people, scattered throughout the remains of the crossing. Even as his stomach lurched, even as his inhaling increased for reasons other than exhaustion, Taylor couldn't look away. Not from Eubanks, his naturally dark skin now scorched completely black. Not from York, the right side of his body barely attached to his left. Not from Dennison, his intestines being the only thing attaching his legs to his waist. No...he couldn't look away from any of them. Because even if their eyes had been burnt away, even if their eyes were facing anywhere but their commander, Taylor knew the truth. He'd killed them. His inexperience had killed them. And right now, he was laying beside the bodies of the people his idiocy had murdered.

Oh God...oh God...

It was too much to take. He had to get out of here. Yet as he rose to his feet, it seemed that his body was not one with his mind. He fell to the ground, as if falling to the wall of Hell itself. No, his body said. The mind hasn't suffered enough.

Or maybe it was for another reason. Because as the lieutenant realized over the next few seconds, facing the ground might be the only thing keeping him alive...

"ISA scum...not dead soon enough if you ask me."

"How many do you think?"

"Nine, ten...what does it matter? They're like cockroaches anyway."

Helghast? Taylor wondered. They're here?

He continued to face the ground, trying to keep his breathing under control. He couldn't see where the voices were coming from and knew it would be suicide to glance at their source, but from what his ears told him, they were coming from above. Presumably the southern side, based on the general direction of the sound and dispersal of the Third Army.

"Was it worth it though? Losing the bridge just for a handful of these grunts?"

"Once the new general arrives, it'll be academic."

Taylor focussed on the words, if only to keep him from breaking down then and there. New general? As in, a replacement for Lente? He'd heard rumours of such a thing, rumours that no doubt the helghast embraced, but even so, this was a rather compelling case for it. And if what was said was true, hiding out in this stormwater channel might not be the best course of action.

Gotta get out of here...find the platoon...

Which was where, exactly? He was still in the channel, so he hadn't been fished out by them obviously. Had they assumed him to be dead, another victim of his own foolishness? Had they left him here out of vindication, a notion that the lieutenant couldn't disagree with? Or had they been ordered to withdraw? And if to, where? Anywhere but south presumably, hopefully north. Because right now, that seemed the best direction to head towards.

But how do I do that exactly?

Taylor quickly glanced around the channel, just waiting for a bullet to pierce his spine. He couldn't see any way out of the giant drain, and even if there was, chances were he'd be seen and shot before he even got back on Miller Street. Right now, the only option was to head east or west. Or, more specifically, down the open channel or into the stormwater tunnel it led into.

"Come on, we should move," he heard one of the higs say. "We'll have an armoured company moving down here within the hour."

Helghast armour? Shit...

Staying in the channel wasn't an option. Not if there were going to be tanks and goggle heads rumbling around. No...heading into the tunnel was the only option. After that...well, as dark as it would be, it would beat the infinite darkness that came with death. A darkness that had been filled by his squad mates a few hours ago. Squad mates that he had no desire to face...not yet anyway. Not until he could look them in the eye.

Which would be when, exactly? Chances are you'll die first...

Gritting his teeth, Taylor glanced up at the northern street, seeing a pair of helghast walking towards the east. It was temping to take them out, but even more tempting to stay out of sight and out of mind.

And as he stumbled into the tunnel, he did just that.

Rats...a species native to Earth. A species that had spread in accordance with its early explorers. And if the bloodied corpse of one such rodent was any indication, had spread to Vekta as well.

Figures...Versilli thought to himself bitterly, holstering his IvP-18 Tropov machine pistol as he did so. Once Vekta is ours again, there'll be more than one type of vermin to clear out.

It was a waste of ammunition at best and at worst, a siren's cry for ISA soldiers who might be lurking in the sewers of Vekta City. It wouldn't have surprised the helghast in the slightest and all things considered, luring ISA scum to his position might have actually been the best thing that could happen to him-a chance to not only shoot at moving targets, but at targets that could shoot back. After all, ending the lives of dumb rodents could only bring so much satisfaction, let alone cool his anger as to what had happened on the surface-the exploding bridge, the screams of the RRF troopers who had pursued him...he could only assume that his fellow Third Army members had rigged it to blow via bio-signatures. A sound plan in theory, but one that hadn't accounted for fellow helghast being so close to the point of detonation. So, with the rubble flying into the sky and consequently falling victim to gravity, the only thing he could do was jump down an open manhole. And, after finding that the rubble had sealed it, continue on through the sewers looking for an exit. A task at which he had yet to succeed.

Well, it's not all bad. At least I'm getting plenty of target practice.

As another rat drew its last breath, "target practice" seemed to be an understatement.

Breathing heavily, the NCO supposed there was another reason he was taking out his frustration on these rodents. All in all, they reminded him of himself. A being scurrying around in the dark, unwilling or unable to face down the larger predators. What made the analogy worse was that the UCN didn't have what it took to be a true predator-it let its enemies think it was, a delusion that had lasted until ten years ago, but it was all just for show. Just like rats-they could seem scary, but once one got past appearances, they were harmless. Right now, Versilli wanted to do something...anything to prove that he wasn't like one of the critters roaming Vekta's underbelly. A chance to show the would-be predators what a true predator was capable of.

And as he heard the burst of what sounded like a M82-G, the sergeant dared hope that such an opportunity might come sooner than expected...

"Son of a...rats! I've been shooting at rats!"

And talking out loud apparently, but that didn't shame Taylor nearly as much as what had caused him to talk out loud in the first place.

A rat. A stinking, measly rat and I'm opening fire like it's the boogy man!

Crap, even shooting at the boogy man would have been less shameful, considering that the surface of Vekta was swarming with bogymen. Admittedly bogymen universally dressed in black and wearing gas masks with glowing eyes, but bogymen nonetheless. Had there been a dead helghast lying where the rodent was, he might have felt a sense of pride, or at least grim acceptance that this was war, and it was a case of kill or be killed. But a rat? Bad enough that he'd got members of his platoon killed, but the least he could do was avenge their deaths on individuals who could be held to account for the loss of life.

Well, maybe after all the centuries rats spent carrying disease on Earth, maybe I've just avenged a few deaths that way...

Or not. The smell was bad down here, but as far as the lieutenant knew, his mental faculties had yet to be affected by it.

Steadying his grip on his rifle, the RRF trooper began moving forward again, steering his gaze away from the rodent he had murdered. Maybe it wasn't the smell that was getting to him. Maybe it was the feeling of isolation-he'd gone from the shadows of the enemy on the surface to the shadows of his own mind. So it came as a great relief when he saw a faint light at the end of his corridor. And that faint relief became even fainter when he realized that the light came from a fire, but it was situated in a room. A large room. The type of room where he could be walking into an ambush and not even be aware of it.

But I am aware. This time...

Gripping his weapon even harder, the lieutenant sprinted towards the wall that separated the passageway he was in from room at large, akin to the bottom part of a L. Breathing heavily, he felt and saw numerous dust particles drifting down, like grey snowflakes. Clearly a month of neglect had taken its toll on cleanliness. Suffice to say, it wouldn't be passing the white glove test anytime soon.

Well, as long as white gloves don't become white flags, I'm not complaining...

And all in all, Taylor found even less of a reason to complain. As he'd leant against the back of the wall, ready to take the next controlled, calculated yet still risky step into the room as a whole, he'd relied on his senses to give him any indication of what might await him-primarily his sense of sound, considering that the others were of limited use to him in regards to detecting the enemy without exposing himself. But while he had detected something, it certainly didn't the sound like a helghast. No...with its faint whine, its quivering whimper, Taylor knew exactly what it sounded like.

A dog? Down here?

The whine continued, so there was no disputing the sound. As for the source...well, not every citizen of Vekta City had made it out safely and it stood to reason that not all of their pets would have either. And with a war raging on the surface, the sewers might have been the safest option. Heck, with all the rats around, dogs certainly wouldn't go hungry down here...

Well...time to play fetch then...

Crouching down and activating his rifle's laser targeter for good measure, Taylor began moving forward. If there was a dog here, he didn't want to scare it. If the enemy was here, he didn't want to present more of his body than he needed to. Luckily, as a wagging tail behind a piece of rubble showed, it was the case of the former. The far more preferable option.

"Here boy," Taylor whispered, rising to his feet, desiring a friendly face no matter how briefly. "I'm not gonna-..."

Grr...

...bite.

It was a dog. A dog with glowing orange eyes via a mask. A dog with a metal jaw. A dog that just stared at him, growling. A dog that clearly wasn't from Vekta and as far as the lieutenant knew, no sane UCN territory in this galaxy or the next. Feeling his mouth dry faster than a cruiser at warp, the RRF trooper raised his rifle. Shooting rats was one thing. But dogs? Was it a monster naturally, or had it just been browbeaten?

Is there even a difference with the helghast?

Taylor almost wished the mutt would charge-at least he'd be able to shoot in genuine self defence. But it just stood there...growling...its head going up and down...as if...calling for its master? Its mate? Or maybe...the helghast on the walkway above? A helghast that was only now looking down...and no doubt seeing the source of the guard dog's growing...

Shit shit shit!

The CO let out a yell, his outburst overshadowed by the roar of his M82-G. No thought, no hesitation, just instinct. Instinct to pull the trigger and keep pulling it as he sidestepped towards cover. Instinct to keep firing, trying to hit the goggle head while he hoped not to get hit in turn. Within seconds, it was more a focus on the latter. The helghast was staying in place, not budging whilst Taylor was trying to do too much at once. And not being a fascist fanatic, he put self preservation first.

Just as well all things considered. As he dived down behind a piece of rubble, dust puffed up from the ground to remind him what would have happened had he stayed in one place for too long. A place like the piece of rubble. A place where, while the helghast couldn't hit him from where he stood, the dog was another story.

And as it jumped over the rubble, knocking the lieutenant down and baring his fangs at his dirt-encrusted visage, all Taylor could hope for was that the dog's story wouldn't be his last.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

Versilli wasn't sure who had written those words, but considering that it wasn't someone from Helghan, it wasn't important anyway. Still, right now it seemed appropriate. It was the best of times because finally, after hours of trudging through Vekta City's underbelly, he'd finally come across an enemy combatant. It was the worst of time however, because it seemed that a guard dog was going to beat him to the kill. Orders had trickled down to the Third Army that Helghan guard dogs were to be used in place of sentry drones due to the machines' mechanical failures, but they were still meant to act as patrollers. Here however, the mutt seemed to be about to do the next best thing-tear the human's face off.

Shame it can't be the neck...but I suppose RRF body armour has to be good for something.

Certainly the human's neck was protected, as the ISA's body armour extended to a thick neck collar.

"Bloody...mutt...off...me..."

"Save your breath human, you'll need it to scream when Fido starts tearing into you."

The trooper glanced up at the sergeant, his dirty, scared gaze meeting Versilli's cold, mask-shielded one. A momentary distraction, but it was all the time that 'Fido' needed to get in for the kill. Or, at least try to. Because as its metal jaws snapped forward, the human managed to grab its neck with both his hands, whereas previously he'd had a less secure grip around its shoulder blades. It had made its ripstoe, and the ISA grunt had parried efficiently.

But can his sword stop bullets?

Raising his rifle, Versilli supposed the answer was no. Guard dogs were efficient, but they were meant to be just that-guard dogs. Visari's soldiers would bring victory in his name. Victory and judgement. Judgement that echoed from the barrels of Stahl Arms weaponry. Judgement that, as he opened fire, as the RRF soldier tossed the dog over the rubble, tore into the canine instead of the hairless ape.

Son of a...!

Bad timing or bad luck, Versilli had at least one of the two. And as he stood there, stunned, he gave the human all the time he needed to recover and become a threat again.

"Eat lead goggle head!"

Or not. Because apparently racial slurs was the only thing his enemy could do right. True, he could fire grenades from his rifle's underslung grenade launcher, but as Versilli ducked the projectile, apparently hitting his targets wasn't among his list of competencies.

"You missed human..." the sergeant sneered.

The human smiled faintly. "Did I?"

Short answer-yes.

Medium answer-what's that groaning sound?

Long answer-wait a minute...that grenade weakened the structural supports of the walkway. So that means, it's going to...

Crash!

Collapse!

No answer came after that.

It was impossible as Versilli plunged down with the walkway and into unconsciousness.

A/N

So yeah, the first live-action ad adapted. The only one where the RRF protagonist gives the impression of being competent. XD