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Killzone: Underworld

Chapter 4: Retribution

The shield was up, the sword came down, and the two sheets of iron met.

Fine, moving, poetic and had this conflict existed over a millennium ago, might have actually been true. But it was the twenty-fourth century and no human nor helghast was actually going to use a sword or shield in combat. Yet even now, in the Second Extrasolar War, close combat was a possibility. Close combat that involved a helghast sergeant bringing down the butt of his rifle-the proverbial sword. Close combat that involved a RRF lieutenant raising his arms to protect himself-the proverbial shield. And whilst it wasn't iron meeting iron, bone and sinew were still destined to clash. Because having assumed Taylor to be helpless, resistance to his blow was the last thing Versilli had expected. And even as his arms throbbed, even as his breathing increased, Taylor had the upper hand, if only briefly. And right now, in this point of time and space, he would take advantage of it.

Or, as he grabbed the StA52, at least try to.

"Going...down..." the lieutenant rasped, pressing the rifle against the hig's neck and slamming him against the wall. The sergeant remained silent. Maybe he had nothing to say. Maybe in this last fight, there was nothing left to say. Or maybe he was saving himself to push back. To channel his own strength, grab the rifle from the human's grasp and begin firing. Because that was what he did at least. And only thanks to Taylor regaining his grip on the rifle were the sewers spared a second corpse. They weren't, however, spared bullet holes and dust as the rifle roared, its bullets tearing into the ceiling as Versilli fired while Taylor prevented him from actually hitting his target.

"Son...of...a...bitch!"

"You would know..."

"Fuck you!"

The dance continued-angel and demon, duelling between Heaven and Hell. The shell casings rained down upon Purgatory. Only when the last of the projectile's vessels did the embrace end. Having fired the rifle all this time, Versilli had the best idea as to when it would run out of ammunition. And as such, he had the best idea of using the weapon's underslung shotgun to reduce his foe's visage to bloody pulp.

And like before, it almost worked. Almost...

Taylor couldn't explain it, how he knew to side-step to the right just before his enemy fired. The shot rang out, its tone reverberating through the passage in a symphony of dissonance, but he was fine physically. Letting out a battle-cry, he did his best to ensure that Versilli would be on the other end of the physical spectrum. A side-kick...one that failed to hit the hig, but at least removed the rifle from his hands. A rifle that was empty. A rifle that, in light of the helghast's holstered pistol, was as academic as its removal.

"Shit..."

The trooper expected it to end then and there. To watch the helghast un-holster his pistol, shoot him more times than was necessary to ensure that he was dead and then...well, he wouldn't be in a position to care. Yet it was an expectation that wasn't met, a fact only realized as Taylor watched his enemy get into a CQC position. Honour? Sadism? Overconfidence? Whatever. He'd been given a chance. And as he summoned what little he remembered from his physical training, he prepared to fight. Sword to shield...man to man...or at least a spin-off from mankind...

A spin-off that, as the lieutenant found out, had a pretty painful left hook.

"Did that hurt?" the goggle-head sneered, watching as Taylor reeled back from his strike. "I hope so..."

The lieutenant's first response was to spit the blood that had built up in his throat at his foe. His second response was to jump back as that tactic proved its worthlessness and the fascist continued his attack. The fight had barely begun and already he was on the defensive. RRF body armour provided more protection than its helghast equivalent, but it had been designed with projectiles in mind. CQC was another matter entirely, and the helghast could throw numerous blows at his face and lower body, with Taylor lacking the speed and agility to hold his own.

"Do you feel it?" the helghast sneered, grasping the lieutenant's fists as he made a sortie, kicking him in the gut the next second and regaining his posture in the second after that. "Closing in around you?"

"Go to Hell."

"Only after you."

Which, as his fist made contact with the lieutenant's nose with a sickening crack, seemed fated to come sooner than later.

The trooper stumbled backwards-blood spurted out of his nose, his vision was blurry and something, likely the hig's foot, made contact with the back of his left leg. He gritted his teeth, regretting it as a fist made contact with his mouth. All in all, the only relief he felt was when he tumbled backwards, saved from falling on the cold hard floor by a railing. A railing that was all that was keeping him from falling him into flowing sewerage below.

"Filth to drown in filth..." the helghast sneered. "It's hard to tell which is more repulsive..."

Taylor remained silent-his vision was blurry, his face was aching and his left leg felt like it was going to give way. Better to let the helghast think he had the advantage. Better to let him gloat while he regained his strength. Better to-...

Click.

"...what?"

Even through the blurred vision, the trooper could see the pistol pressed against his forehead. Even with his face bloody and bruised, he could feel the helghast's hand against his chin-the next best thing after taking his neck, which his armour prevented. Even with...no...he couldn't feel much else. Only...it...closing in around him. Inevitability.

"I'm through with you..." the hig said simply, pulling back the firing mechanism. "And that's all I've got left to say..."

Taylor wanted to say something...anything...an insult, a retort...anything to let him go out in a blaze of sound that amounted to more than just a gunshot. But he couldn't. Wouldn't. Not because of the pain. Not because of inevitability. No...it was because deep down, on some level of his consciousness, James Taylor felt like he deserved to die. Deserved to meet the same fate as his men. Deserved to perish as Vekta fell to plunderers and...and...

"No!"

Vekta deserved more. Even if he didn't. And with a sudden movement, he grabbed the helghast's pistol, the shot ringing out but again missing his target. Grabbed the helghast's arm as he was pushed over the railing. Grabbed fistfuls of dirty water as both soldiers fell into the river of sewerage, carried along in its flow.

A flow of inevitability...but also one that would lead to an exit...

He was swimming in filth while tangling with filth and as a result, Hans Versilli felt...filthy.

The struggle...eternal...as inevitable as the flow of water itself, as continuous as water's cycle. Nothing could break it-not the residue the water carried, not even the individuals swept along in its current. All they could do was go with the flow, and hope that by the end of it, only one would make his way onto dry land.

The NCO snarled, making his way over to the RRF grunt as best he could in the current and reached out for him. Not for contact, not for comfort, rather only out of the desire to grab his neck, shove his head underwater and hold it there for as long as possible. In this regard, the human had made it easy for him, having removed his body armour in what was presumably an attempt to keep it from dragging him down. A wise course of action, but one that was ultimately futile.

Futile...so similar to inevitability.

It was inevitability that the trooper fought against. Versilli reached out, only for the CO to swing out his arm in an attempt to ward him off. It was mainly successful, and the helghast was sent reeling. He was sent back even further as the human managed to make contact with his stomach with his good leg, sending him back even further. Pain however, was non-existent. His clothing was soaked, and while that weighed him down, the increased density of the fabric gave him extra protection. Right now, the possibility of drowning was the greater threat than anything the terran could come up with.

Lost my pistol after he seized it...only a matter of time until he loses his own life...

At least that was what Versilli thought until the human grabbed him by the neck, forcing him underwater for the next few seconds until a pipe broke his grip. Yet the helghast barely noticed as water blocked his vision. The bastard had actually loosened his helmet, allowing the sewerage to seep in.

Son of a...

Swinging a fist, the sergeant gave his foe's broken nose more of a makeover.

Inevitability...it seemed to be going along the road of futility right now. Both soldiers could throw blows in the water, but such was its rate of flow, neither of them could stay together long enough to do any serious damage. Or at least that used to be the case. Because quite literally, there was a light at the end of the tunnel-the shore of Vekta City. The exit of the pipe. A removal from the stench of human excretement. And even as the human grasped at his helmet one last time, it mattered little. The grip was lost as the lieutenant and sergeant were swept out onto the sand.

It was an interesting sensation, considering that Versilli had never felt sand before on Helghan. What was even more interesting was that he could feel it at all.

But considering that his foe had managed to tear his helmet off, maybe that was to be expected...

Son of a...man, you're ugly.

Never mind the stench of sewerage. Never mind that a great deal of it had gone down its throat and left an aftertaste that felt like he'd been drinking from a clogged receptacle. Never mind that even though the sun had risen, he was freezing. Never mind that he'd made a similar comment not too long ago that led to him being strangled. No...all that mattered was that in the course of their aquatic scuffle, he had torn the hig's helmet off. And with his sunken in skin, pale eyes and striking baldness...well, "ugly" was the first word to come to mind, but it was just the tip of the iceberg.

"Lieutenant! Lieutenant Taylor!"

And thus the iceberg moved closer. Or, rather, a squad of ISA regulars.

"Sir!" exclaimed their sergeant. "We recieved your radio signal, and..." He trailed off, he and the rest of his squad raising their rifles.

The helghast...more troopers...ready to kill for me...

"Leave him," Taylor grunted, rubbing the blood and water from his face as he stared at the hig. "He's mine."

Or would be, after he got the goggle-head off him as the helghast charged into him, sending him sprawling into the sand.

"You seek to fight alone..." the hig sneered, closing his fingers around Taylor's throat. "Impressive...but even if your men take my life, it'll only be after I take yours."

"Sounds like...a fair trade..."

The helghast loosened his grip, apparently surprised at such a statement. It was all the surprise the lieutenant needed to grab some sand, toss it into the bastard's eyes and with a kick from his own leg, break the bastard's nose. Eye for an eye...sort of.

"Miss your mask?" Taylor sneered, staggering to his feet and ignoring the pain that shot through his crippled leg, the feeling akin to a serpent moving through the marrow of his bones. "Can't face me without a shield?"

"All I need is a sword!"

Or rather, two hands. Two hands that wrapped around his legs, sending Taylor toppling. Or one hand, to bring it down to the human's face...only for that hand to be grabbed by the terran's own, holding it in place while he hit the helghast with his second.

"Sir, do you need-..."

"Stay back!" the lieutenant yelled. "Just stay out of this!"

Staggering to his feet, Taylor noticed two things-that the regulars were showing loyalty he felt had yet to be earnt, and that he was moving faster than the helghast. While crippled, and seemingly in much more pain, he'd successfully ditched his body armour, leaving fatigues that, while soaked, didn't impede his movement. The hig on the other hand was in his full black, heavy uniform. And soaked with water, it was weighing him down. And given how close they were to the beach break, it would be a simple task to soak him even further.

Sea to his back, regulars to his right, rocks to his left and me to his front...bastard isn't going anywhere...

This wasn't a hunt. It was a duel. And there would be none after it.

Staggering forward with the determination of an ox, the helghast swung a punch...that missed, as Taylor ducked under it. Gritting his teeth, he dived forward, sending the two of them splashing into the freezing Vektan sea.

"Going to drown me?" the helghast sneered as Taylor took his throat in a grip as strong as he could muster. "Is that all you can amount to?"

A moment's hesitation...that was all that was required. All that was required for the helghast to kick the CO in the stomach, sending him sprawling back onto the sand. All that was required to give the non-human enough time to get to his feet, grab his foe by the neck and slam the back of his skull against the rocks.

"Gah!"

"Hurts, doesn't it?" the helghast sneered. "Always wondered why you RRF types didn't wear helmets."

Taylor grimaced...he'd often wondered the same thing himself. Wondered as much as the regulars were wondering why he wasn't telling them to open fire and pepper his foe with bullets.

They wondered because they hadn't been there in Vekta City...when he'd seen the bodies of his comrades on a surface as cold and unforgiving as this...

But Taylor wouldn't join them. The helghast would. And while the hig brought his fist down, Taylor's good leg made contact with the fascist's own first, sending him toppling. A brief respite, but all that was needed for him to get what he needed to finish this once and for all. A rock. And if he was David, Goliath was going down.

"I'm not going to drown you..." the trooper whispered. "I need something to remove your ugly mug."

The helghast remained silent. Maybe he had nothing to say. Maybe nothing needed to be said. Either way, it didn't matter. For as his foe brought the boulder down upon his face, crushing his skull, he'd never be able to say anything again.

As he fell onto the sand, exhausted, Taylor wasn't sure whether he'd be able to say anything either.