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The Saga of Kings, Book I: Hero
Written by,
Vile M.F. Slanders
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"...Tu Ne Cede Malis Sed Contra Audentior Ito… (...Yield not to misfortunes, but advance all the more boldly against them…)" -The Epitaph, always remembered; Ranger's Oath, Closing Line
-v-
Chapter II: Icarus Ascending
"You've lost it, Bastard."
"I haven't lost shit."
"Really? Get up and walk then."
"..."
"Can't do it, can you?"
"You shut that fucking mouth of yours. Just you watch. If I could learn how to walk as a child, then I can learn how to walk as a man."
"-..."
"Why do you push yourself that hard? There's no shame in accepting the reality-"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
"...You just won't quit, will you?"
"Not until I'm dead. And I won't die until I'm wearing that fucking Beret…"
"You mean this?"
"..."
"Why do want a Black Beret so badly, Bastard?"
"..."
"Are you going to answer the question, Bastard?"
"...Why did you want one, Captain?"
"I didn't. It was awarded to me, when a former Blackhat ended up KIA. I was the best candidate in the Corps, and High Command put this Black Beret on my head, whether I wanted it there or not."
"..."
"So why do you want one?"
"Because I do."
"That is not the answer I want to hear, Bastard."
"Maybe you haven't figured this out about me yet, but I don't exactly tell people what they want to hear."
"Yes, I've read your file. And after reading it, I can tell just what kind of human being you are."
"And what kind of human being is that, Captain Lewis?"
"You're a fucking egotistical, self-serving, self-righteous, ambitious, and cold-blooded psychopath."
"You read my file right then."
"You just won't accept 'no' for an answer, will you Bastard?"
"I am still a Ranger-"
"No. You're a cripple. You were once a Ranger. You're a liability now."
"Watch me prove you wrong-"
"Really? So… Say that you can put your own weight on those legs again. Say that you can somehow run five klicks straight again, without passing out from oxygen deprivation. It's not going to change the fact, Bastard."
"Watch. Me."
"You didn't hear a Goddamn thing I just said, did you?"
"No, I heard it. I just know that you are wrong."
"The fact is, Bastard… You are emotionally compromised."
"...-"
"Just. Watch. Me."
"I heard a little bird mention something about you. Something your friends in the Vets tried to cover up."
"...I'm sure that whatever it was, it came a credible source-"
"It came from Colonel Isaac Howes."
"..."
"You see, the Colonel said something about a group of Vets finding your broken-down crippled ass outside of the Tank, hands and face pressed up against the glass, with that huge fucking Magikarp of yours on the otherside. Something about you bawling your eyes out to a Goddamn fish."
"..."
"You think that you're the only Ranger to have lost-"
"-Just shut up… -Please, just shut up…"
"You're not alone, Bastard. A lot of Rangers are in the exact same situation you are. The only difference between you and them... Is that you don't know when to quit."
"...How many have you buried?"
"..."
"That many, huh?"
"...More than the entire count of personnel stationed at this Outpost, Bastard…"
"So how do you deal with it?"
"I do."
"That is not an answer."
"And nothing you've given me resembles an answer either, Bastard."
"..."
"You're lost, Bastard. The Colonel signed the medical discharge this morning-"
"-No he didn't. Colonel Howes knows me. He knows that I'm gonna walk again-"
"It's not about you walking again, Bastard. It has everything to do with your state of mind. You're fucking lost, and you won't accept it."
"You don't fucking get it… The Corps is the only thing I have… It's the only fucking thing that I have left…"
"You still have a family, Bastard-"
"-If you fucking knew my father… You would know better than to say that..."
"...-"
"So what are you going to do?"
"I'm going to prove you all wrong. I'm not settling for an honorable discharge. I'm getting my Black Beret."
"You don't have what it takes, Bastard."
"Watch me walk again."
"It's your fucking head, Bastard. Not your legs. You don't have the spine for it. I know you don't. The shit you pulled for your fucking dog and your fucking lizard proves it. You might not be half as fucked as you are now, if you would've just let them die."
"..."
"You're soft, Bastard. You would die for your own mon. What kind of fucking Ranger would kill themselves for a fucking monster?"
"Get Vauban in here. Now."
"What for?"
"You get me my little girl. You put a gun in my hand. You give me the order. And I will prove you wrong."
"Really? You would actually shoot your little girl for a Black Beret that your crippled ass will never get?"
"Look me in my eye and tell me what you see."
"..."
"What do you see, Captain Lewis?"
"...I see an imbecile with a damn good poker face."
"..."
"...So you are still intent on being a Ranger?"
"..."
"Bastard?"
"...-"
"...You know… I remember seeing you in Cerulean. Way back when. You and the rest of Team Seven. You actually looked pretty damn sexy back then, Captain Lewis. Now you look like a granny. I was five years old. I saw the Black Berets… And I saw who I wanted to be..."
"...We don't always get what we want, Bastard."
"That may be, but I'm dedicating myself to getting it, regardless of it all."
"...You're fucking lost…"
"You bet your fucking ass I'm lost, Captain. And you bet your fucking ass that I'm gonna find my way back to where I was."
"…-"
"...You better start walking soon, Bastard."
"...?-"
"...Why are you suddenly rooting for me, Captain Lewis?"
"Because you passed. The Colonel didn't write your discharge this morning, Bastard. He sent it to High Command a month ago. I put the discharge on delay until I had a chance to assess the Fucking Bastard for myself."
"..."
"We have an outfit for you. Coming straight from High Command. Completely new field for the Rangers."
"...What kind of outfit?"
"Listening, are we? Good. Dry your fucking eye, Ranger. There's no place for those tears where you're going."
"You still haven't told me what I'm doing."
"Well, well. Look at the Bastard now. All high and mighty. Hmph... To think that your ugly fucking face is going to be seen all over the Kanto-Johto regions. Hell, maybe the whole world."
"Just what are you getting at, Captain?"
"...You learn to walk again. We give you Cortez, Vauban, and Darwin. We put your ass in a uniform, Badge, and Beret. We grant you an expense account. We rewrite the League Legislation-"
"-Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back it the fuck up. What the hell does the League have to do with the Rangers?"
"I told you that it was new territory for the Rangers, didn't I?"
"What. Does. In-di-go-League. Have. To do. With me?"
"You're going to be a Trainer-"
"-Fuck no."
"You didn't let me finish. You're going to be the first official League certified Ranger. You are going to be representing the Ranger Corps in both the public and the Trainer communities-"
"-No, no, no, I do see where this is going. I'm gonna be a fucking recruiter, aren't I?"
"Something like that."
"That is not going to get me my Black Beret."
"Being a recruiter? Hell no. But becoming the Indigo League Champion might."
"...!?-"
"...What?"
"You are representing the finest outfit in the world, Zane. The Rangers. The finest outfit deserves the finest seat. We want your ass on Lance's throne."
"Lance? The fucking Dragon King? Are the Blackhats going to give me their own mon to use for kicking his ass?"
"Nothing we have can take down Lance, Bastard. He's not the fucking League Champion for nothing. You are going to have to start from scratch, and raise a squad of mon that can take out the Dragon King. And you are going to have to deal with the press too. Nothing those bloodsuckers like more than a tale of tragedy and triumph."
"I'm out."
"I'm not joking, Ranger. So don't you joke with me."
"...How the hell am I going to kick Lance's ass off of his throne? He's maintained the position of Champion for almost twenty years-"
"-Which is exactly why the Rangers think- That it's time to show the world that a Bastard can overthrow a King."
"...-"
"...The Bastard King… The sound of that almost beats Fucking Bastard… Almost."
"So are you in? Or are you out?"
"...Will I still get to serve as a Ranger? Or am I going to be a political puppet for High Command? -And most importantly… Will this earn me my Black Beret? Tell me now. No bullshit."
"Yes to all three. You will not wear a Ranger's uniform and not serve in the Ranger Corps. High Command will be influencing your influence. And as a Blackhat myself, I can honestly state… that it would be an honor to serve alongside The Bastard King."
"...-"
"...I'm in."
...
Viridian Ranger's Prime Outpost: Three months, two weeks, three days before Ranger Zane Bastard's promotion to Chief Warrant Officer.
The morning horn sounded. I cracked open my eyes. With a heavy sigh, I started kneading my temples.
"Abstain, Darwin." I ordered. My giant fucking Magikarp went dead stiff in the water. Anyone who's ever trained a Magikarp knows just how much work it takes to get the perpetually panic-attacking fish to stay fucking still for just five fucking seconds. Most Magikarp Trainers know better than to waste the necessary months required for conditioning a Magikarp out of that instinctive behavior, because those Trainers know that they'll get to see all that work go back to fuck-nothing the very next day.
I could get Darwin to indefinitely stop flopping around by my command alone. Every Goddamn time.
Beat that.
"We'll resume training tomorrow morning. Rest your fat ass up. You're gonna learn how to use that bulk for hostile applications even if it kills you. Dismissed." I transferred Darwin to his pokeball, and made my way out of the Aquatic Training Facility. As I left the Aquatic Range, I released Darwin from his pokeball and into the Tank for some R&R.
He'd earned it.
I rubbed my bruised eye sockets and groaned. We'd been at it for fifteen hours straight. Darwin had put forth his best effort in trying to satisfy his Commanding Officer's outrageous combat expectations, but the fat fucker was just a Magikarp.
Which is synonymous with "fucking useless."
Darwin was something of an Outpost joke. He was the only Magikarp that had ever served in the Viridian Forest Detachment. I hadn't exactly been subtle with my ambitions. Everybody at the Outpost knew that I was gunning for a Black Beret. Everybody knew that I wanted a fucking Gyarados. Everybody knew that established procedure wasn't good enough for Warrant Officer Zane Bastard. Everybody knew that Warrant Officer Zane Bastard wasn't going to settle for a G.I. Gyarados if he actually managed to succeed in his impossible venture of obtaining a Black Beret.
Warrant Officer Zane Bastard was going to get his Gyarados the hard way. Starting with a Magikarp.
It was probably the single vainest and most asinine endeavor that I had ever undertaken. There is a reason why the Gyaradosia are as rare as Pre-Brink pornos.
You. Just. Can't. Fucking. Train. A Magikarp.
At least not for combat. I'd actually managed the impossible. I found a role for a Magikarp in the Ranger Corps. I have successfully trained Darwin for Subaquatic Location and Retrieval, in spite of my own Colonel pulling me aside one day to inform me that I was wasting my time.
Now when he mentions Darwin, the Colonel refers to that Magikarp with all the respect due a Ranger.
But that's all moot. I want a Gyarados. And I want that Black Beret. My fellow Greenbacks are quick to point out that even if I get Darwin to evolve, it's not going to get me my Black Beret.
Of course it's not. But it's gonna raise eyebrows all across Command. As far as I'm concerned, Darwin is just another dark thread I'm weaving into that Black Beret.
Of course, when Darwin does evolves, and that is a 'when,' I'm gonna have to prepare for the worst like no other.
In the few recorded cases of Trainers evolving their Magikarps into Gyaradosia, more than half of those accounts end with the fledgling Dragon-Snakes eating their own fucking Trainers.
It didn't matter if you coddled and pampered your Magikarp for its entire life, or beat it into submission before it evolved.
That Gyarados was going to try and kill you, and you had to break the beast all over again. Only now, it wasn't a flippantly useless Magikarp. Now it was an armored-plated, pissed-off, fuck-ugly Sea Serpent bigger than a Goddamn house, and packing an arsenal of Shit-Your-Pants so robust that it would have made the Pre-Brink armories look petite by comparison.
Not to mention the attitude. Gyarados behavior only comes in one flavor: Fucking violent as hell. Gyaradosia are one of only eight species of pokemon designated under the "Disaster" classification index. Gyaradosia are so fucking powerful and ruthless that they can actually change the shape of a continent using only pissed-off facial expressions and a loud motherfucking roar.
You thought that I wanted a Gyarados for riding in parades? Reread the above line.
-That's why I want a fucking Gyarados.
Darwin is my shining star. My flawless protege. I couldn't possibly have obtained a better specimen. When Darwin fucking evolves, he's gonna be the biggest fucking Gyarados this world has ever seen. You think I'm blowing smoke up your ass? Listen to the numbers roll, baby.
You see, there's a reason for why I christened my Magikarp after the father of evolution. The average size for a healthy Magikarp Darwin's age is roughly 3'8" in length, and 58.3lbs.
Darwin is 8'9" in length, and 427.5lbs.
You can all start sucking my equally formidable dick right now. The line starts at my well-endowed tip.
That's unprecedented size for a Magikarp. And size carries over into the evolution, Gyarados. We're talking one, Big. Scary. Angry. Mother-fucking-Gyarados. I'm saying the Military's "Destroyer" Class Wailord size applies. On a fucking Gyarados.
I'm gonna have my hands fucking full rearing that monster into a Ranger.
...
So what's this fish's backstory? Where the fuck did this freak come from, and how the hell did a fucking bloodthirsty and ambitious Ranger get his hands on the closest thing humanity has seen to a cooking nuke in fifteen-hundred years? I'll tell you.
...But it's gonna cost you 2 Sandz.
Darwin is unique amongst all Magikarps. I've had eggheads such as the likes of Professor Oak and Professor Elm personally requesting my Darwin's involvement in their "groundbreaking" research. Wooho. Whatever. But regardless of my opinions regarding the use of the word "groundbreaking," the Labs actually pay me a stipend just to train Darwin. All because they want to see just how fucking scary that Gyarados is gonna be. Darwin's so fucking big that I could sell him to Chimera Industries' Waterloo Division for a small fortune.
And I still wouldn't get my money back. And I never will.
I didn't catch Darwin. I bought his ass off of some playboy angler who was actually going to stuff and mount the biggest fucking latent monster the world had ever seen.
Like I was gonna let that fucking happen.
Darwin has history in the Viridian sector. Or more accurately, Darwin is Viridian history. There's a small reservoir above Viridian's old hydroelectric dam. A favorite fishing spot for local anglers. A good place for a weekend picnic. Quiet, quaint, and safe. And this murky pool of water was home to a legend.
Ol' Crasher.
That's what they called Darwin before I wrote his dispatch and put a G.I. barcode tattoo on his tongue.
Anglers had been trying and failing to land that giant red fish for fifty fucking years. Ol' Crasher snapped every line that ever snagged him. People knew that he was down there, ripping rods right out of fisherman's hands like it was a dirty habit. And just like every fucking Magikarp that ever made it past fry, Ol' Crasher liked to make his presence known in the weirdest fucking natural phenomenon science has ever encountered.
Ol' Crasher could jump. And he could jump higher than any other Magikarp in that pool.
Nobody knows why they do it. Breaching, that is. But Magikarps just can't go one fucking day in their shitty lives without jumping out of the fucking water for no apparent reason whatsofuckingever.
They just do it. It doesn't make any sense. Not when there's a sky loaded with Pidgeotto and Fearows looking for any signs of an easy meal.
And meals don't come much easier than Magikarps.
The closest thing a Magikarp has to a natural defense mechanism is dying. I'm not shitting you. Magikarps have absolutely nothing going for them as far as fight or flight instincts are concerned. Magikarps only thrive because they can live quite comfortably in irradiated water, they can eat raw sewage like it's fucking candy, and they can multiply in the billions.
And because of those three exceptionally effective passive traits, the Magikarps can blissfully kill themselves breaching every fucking day, and their numbers will never plummet for it.
But Ol' Crasher? No bird in sky was big enough to pluck his ass outta the water. He's fucking lucky that the Braviary don't migrate over Kanto, otherwise he would never have lasted long enough to make a legend. A fucking loud one.
Yep, "Crashing." That's why they called him Ol' Crasher. When he fucking breached, the bastards in Pallet Town raised their umbrellas. Anyone within a two klick radius of that reservoir would be rendered temporarily deaf for several hours.
And anyone on the shoreline? They got treated to a natural wave pool. Hope you were wearing a life vest.
'Cause you were gonna fucking need it.
Despite his status as a fucking abomination, Ol' Crasher stayed off the national angler radar, chiefly because the people of Viridian found him first, and they kept quiet about it.
If any angler was going to land Ol' Crasher's ass, they were gonna be a native born Viridian.
Unfortunately for the Viridians, it didn't work. The guy who wrangled Ol' Crasher onto dry land was a tourist from Johto's Goldenrod City. And he used basic fucking tackle and kit to do it too.
If I was him, I'd be feeling like a Goddamn King from that moment on, all the way to the day I died.
Especially after what I paid him for that fucking fish.
It made fucking waves when Ol' Crasher got himself beached. Local news agencies, Trainers, Anglers, and even Oak Laboratory personnel were deployed to the reservoir en masse. And of course, yours truly. Ranger Zane Bastard, representing the Monster-Killing High Class.
I'd never seen a mon that fucking big in the flesh before. I honestly thought that somebody had put a Magikarp costume on a Munchlax as a joke. Ol' Crasher was so fucking huge, that he made his shitty little reservoir look like a Goddamn puddle. He had eyes the size of fucking dinner plates. I could have stuck my head into his pupils, they were that fucking big.
And do you know what I saw when I looked into those eyes?
One.
Big.
Mother.
Fucking.
Gyarados.
I saw a fish who was so damn big, that if I got him to evolve, he'd make me a meal ticket for my Black Beret.
And this fucking angler was talking taxidermy with the country yokels.
I could've killed the sumbitch. Would've been cheaper if I had.
I wasn't the only one interested in acquiring Ol' Crasher. A Researcher from Oak Labs was snivelling up a fucking storm. He wanted that Magikarp alive for research intended purposes.
I thought that the Researcher was outta his Goddamn mind.
I mean, look at him.
Just look at him...
-The Gyarados from hell.
It was so beautiful, it brought tears to my eyes.
Nope. Fuck scientific progress. That fucking Magikarp was gonna be killing mon like a Goddamn natural disaster. Or I'd be throwing my beret into the reservoir, and eating my Ranger's badge without the sauce.
I walked right up to that angler and offered him something more substantial than the Researcher's lecture on "moral commitments" and "scientific contributions."
I opened the starting bid at two-thousand Sandz.
Yeah, I know you just shat your pants. You could pay for a year's tuition at Saffron's University of Applied Pokedynamics with that much Sandz. And I was offering it for a Magikarp.
A fucking. Magikarp.
Want some advice? Don't change those shorts yet. The Researcher was about to get down and dirty.
2,500? I can beat that.
3,000.
3,125? You petering out already? What a bitch.
4,000. I ain't fooling around.
4,250? Fuck this shit.
7,800 Sandz. Cold hard cash. Right here. Right now. No waiting. No wiring. No official documents to sign. No phone calls to the bank. Consider it tax exempt. Your next three months of vacation funded entirely by the Ranger Corps, replete with a harem of top shelf whores and a first-class room on your Trans-Hoenn cruise.
And that's how I bought the biggest fucking mistake of my life. I threw everything I had on the table for a fucking Magikarp. Everybody present at the reservoir backed the fuck up, they were that afraid of catching my strain of crazy. The Researcher rushed off to try and scrounge up an excuse that could warrant matching my bid with his boss.
Nope. His boss wasn't crazy.
Ol' Crasher, sold to the handsome, newly destitute Ranger in the red beret -sporting the fucking brain illness. For. Seven. Thousand. Eight. Hundred. Mother. Fucking. Sandz.
Thank God my meals and bunk are provided as part of the G.I. Bill.
So did it pay off? We'll find out. That all depends on whether or not Darwin kills my ass when he evolves.
...Now where's my 2 Sandz?
...
I walked into the barracks. My fellow Greenbacks were still rubbing their fucking eyes. The morning horn's call was all of a minute old and these fucking Walkouts were still trying to kick the sleep.
I changed my uniform, and adjusted my beret in a mirror, and then I walked out into the fucking field while they were still bitching about the time.
My Senior Officers thought that I was gonna kill myself pushing as hard as I was, but I'll be damned if I ever gave them a reason to send me to the infirmary. You can't put a Ranger in the fucking sick bay just for having tar-black circles around the eyes. And I reminded them of that every time they asked.
You see, I'd already completed Spec. Ops training by the time my "class" came back from leave. I'd been running S-ranked Operations with the fucking Ranger Vets while the Walkouts lived the high life like civilian soldiers.
I didn't envy them for a fucking second. I was in the Corps deep. When my "class" got back from leave, they didn't recognize the hardcore gung-ho motherfucker wearing Zane Bastard's badge. I'd seen shit in my four months as a Special Operative that these puss-fucks couldn't even comprehend if you brainwashed them using every fucking B-horror movie as a medium.
I was the "Fucking Bastard," and I didn't even have to prove it.
And unfortunately… When my "class" came back, I was conscripted into their numbers.
It was a fucking slap on my dick, and I did not approve.
I was still just a Warrant Officer. A Petty Warrant Officer. And no amount of volunteering for suicide missions was going to offset the amount of time I had to put in before I could make Chief Warrant Officer.
I was treated like a Goddamn child after having lived like a savage beast for four fucking months.
I was fucking pissed with Command.
Fortunately, even though I'd lost the privilege of running the S-ranks with the Vets, I still had my Vauban; who had gone through the same shitfest picnic that I had as a Special Operative.
Only thing is, Vauban didn't really care that we'd been assigned to pussy detail.
The fucking dinosaur could get her beauty sleep now, without having to worry about getting killed by a fucking Nidorino in his rut.
I could almost sympathize.
…
"Rise and shine, Vauban." I kicked the grimy trough, rudely waking my little girl from her late morning in. She reluctantly rose from her nest in the mud, yawning as she did so.
"Come on, Vauban. Get the shit out and let's get to the fucking mess hall." I grumbled. Vauban groaned, and started dragging her feet. Vauban was taking too long in her early morning stretches, reminding me fiercely of all those fucking Walkouts still pissin' and moaning in the barracks.
No way was I letting my Vauban soften up.
I dumped the trough over with her still in it, and then I kicked the shit out of my little girl.
"Where's your fucking edge, Vauban?" I growled after I was done taking my fury out on my first mon. She looked up at me from the dirt like she was gonna start crying.
Come on, girl. Don't do this. Don't do this to me.
Don't make me really have to hurt you.
"I've been up for thirty six hours straight, grinding my fucking ass off. Fifteen of those fucking hours were spent trying to train a retarded Magikarp how to park his fat ass on a Goddamn walnut from a six meter drop. At this rate, Vauban, I'm gonna start taking Darwin with me out on patrol. At least he makes a fucking effort." I was shaking at the gills. Vauban smartened up at once, those tears were long gone.
"Walk those bruises off, Vauban. On the fucking double." I gave her another kick in the ass, but it was a light one. Nothing more than reinforcement.
Vauban and I finished our mess and proceeded to the Board. The Vets were all out hitting the S-ranks, so there was only Walkouts in the dining hall. I got out of that chattering room as soon as I fucking could. I could barely stand all the noise. Only a week ago, that hall was as quiet as a church during mess time. Back when it was just the Vets, before the fucking Walkouts came back. Vets didn't say shit unless shit needed to be said. They made the fucking mess hall feel sacred with the silent gravity of their sublime commitment to fucking excellence.
And these fucking Walkouts were desecrating my mess hall with their mindless fucking prattling. It made me sick to my core.
I was dreading to view the fucking Board. The fucking Walkouts had come back a week before rotation. Meaning that I got one week on Firewatch with a fucking Walkout before they shifted units around again, and the next Walkout I got stuck with would be for a full fucking term. So much for orientation. I blame Command for shitty timing. For that first week, I got stuck with a snickering seventeen-year old beaner by the name of Corporal Carlos Garcia. He wasn't so bad for a Walkout. He actually knew what a salute was. We didn't talk much, which was something that I appreciated, but from what was said; I got the distinct impression that Carlos had spent the entirety of his leave doing absolutely nothing but getting hammered and getting fucking laid.
I could respect that.
Now Carlos and I were soon to be parted, and the next sorry sucker who tried to call me "partner" was going to end up with a fat lip.
But when I got to the Board, and perused that fucking list for my name and designated Walkout, I quickly discarded the notion of punching my "partner" in the mouth.
"I'm gonna slit your fucking throat..."
Oh.
"God-"
Hell.
"Fucking-"
No.
"DAMNIT!" Vauban wisely chose to hide her ass, fucking fast.
My fists were hammering on that list like I was a Primeape in heat without a banana in sight to whack myself off with. I was properly fucking pissed.
"Fuck-Fuck-Fuck-Fuck-Fuck-Fuck-Fuck-Fuck-Fuck!"
-Fuck.
"FUCK!" One big ol' duke cracked the Board's wooden frame.
"Bastard? Is that you?" I recognized that nasally voice.
"YOU SPENT A FUCKING WEEK WITH ME IN FUCKING FIREWATCH, AND YOU HAVEN'T FUCKING FIGURE OUT MY FUCKING PENCHANT FOR THE FUCKING WORD, 'FUCK' YET?!"
Hi Carlos.
"No."
You smirking fuck. I almost like you.
"God… Fucking… Damnit. I just sharpened my knife too. Now I'm gonna have to throw it away after I slit her fucking throat…" I was salivating on the fucking rage high.
"Let me guess..."
Don't fucking say it.
"Carlos…" I growled a warning, but that gurning shit wasn't going to shut up.
"-Warrant Officer Amber Hail. Congradufuckyoulations, Bastard. I will salute your corpse in the finest fashion when they hang your ass for murder." Carlos pointed her fucking name out on the list, like I didn't already know that it was next to mine.
"Thanks, Carlos. Can I get your service tag number, so that I can recommend it for my jury?" The subtle menace in my voice killed Carlos's smile fucking stone cold dead. I turned to Carlos with my 'livid as fuck' face on. He respectfully backed the fuck up.
Yep. I'm the Fucking Bastard, bitch.
…
Warrant. Officer. Amber. Hail. This is the point where I should start flinging obscenities like a Mankey OD'ing on laxatives.
Problem is, they haven't invented a explicative that adequately describes that piece of shit, worthless, psychotic fucking piece of shit, fucking-
...She's a bitch, Okay?
And a cunt.
And-
…And fuck it! She's the nastiest little whiny zit that ever decided to be a human being!
Only she's not a fucking human, she's-
-Ow...
-I think I just had an aneurysm…
...Nope. False alarm. An aneurysm would've given me a headache.
And nothing else.
Amber was somewhere between twenty-five and thirty-whodafuckcares-years old. Redhead. Anorexic. Probably because of drugs-
...Oh my God, my temples are gonna rupture.
Amber was psychotic. And not in the good fun pinch-and-squeal kind of way.
Obviously, or I would have fucked her by now.
Eesh…
Scratch that last remark. I do not want to think about that ginger scarecrow naked.
Okay, third time's the charm…
Amber was a Ranger. And there was no riper candidate to serve as the posterchild to everything that wasn't a Ranger than fucking Amber Hail. It took Amber sixteen years to make Warrant Officer, and the only reason that Amber got it was because of seniority and because Command just wanted to shut her bitchy mouth up.
It didn't work.
Amber spent every day narking on her fellow Rangers for the least little shit. That Career-Walkout was so fucking useless, that the only way that Amber felt she could make herself appear useful; was to point out everyone else's flaws. You know the type. Insecurity and shitty attitudes dictate those cunts' very existence.
I do not know why Command did not simply dishonorably discharge Amber from the Ranger Corps for being a useless tattling bitch. Amber was such a fucking nark that she drove the Colonel nuts. And when the Colonel told Amber to buck the fuck up…
That stupid fucking Warrant Officer Walkout went straight to High Command with the Colonel's recommendation.
She fucked herself up but good. You do not go over your Colonel. Especially not Colonel Isaac Howes. One of the most decorated non-Blackhat Officers in the Corps, and one of the most respectable human beings that I have ever met.
After High Command was done laughing their asses off at Amber's plea for intervention, the Colonel closed the fucking filecabinet of complaints that Amber had filled with every grievance she had written in her entire career-
-And then the Colonel lit that filecabinet up using premium-aged single-malt scotch whisky and a fat expensive cigar-
-In his fucking office.
And then he had his fucking Blastoise put out the fire-
-By pissing on it.
The Colonel had turned Amber's ass over to the Corps and effectively told us-
"Open season."
"Fire at will."
Like I said, a respectable fucking man.
In her 'service' to the Corps, Amber had pissed off every gung-ho Veteran in the Viridian Outpost by ratting on them for having untied shoelaces. And they were sporting for some fucking vengeance.
Fucking Vets, man.
You think I'm bad?
Give me twenty more years in the Corps, and I can match the evil kind of fucking nasty that the Vets can pull off.
I'm amazed that the Vets didn't kill Amber with some of the shit they pulled. At the very least, Amber should have been a fucking paraplegic triple amputee. But those Vets knew what they were doing, and Amber lived through it all. Unfortunately...
But that shitbrained ginger Walkout was so fucking stupid that she couldn't figure it out and just back out of the fucking Corps.
She only had more shit to bitch about, and she was fucking oblivious to the fact the of the matter-
-That nobody fucking cared.
So how did this powerless spiteful bitch have such a fucking effect on me? Let me lay it out to you in numerical order.
One: She was in a Ranger uniform, and she had no fucking right to wear it.
Two: She was ugly as sin and acted as if her musk smelled like Milotic.
Three: She was a fucking disgrace to humanity.
Four: She picked me out.
Those insecure psychobitches always go for the fucking top class. Like a fucking Shinx snarling at an Arcanine's ankles, that fucking bitch singled me out.
It took Amber sixteen years to make Warrant Officer, and she did absolutely nothing to earn it.
I was a Warrant Officer at sixteen years of age, and I busted my ass for it.
But Amber didn't see it like that.
Nope.
Not one bit.
She wrangled my hive in the most spineless and irritating fashion that is only ever utilized by fucking sociopaths. Amber would start rolling a line of shit off her tongue as soon as I came into view, all of it covertly referring to me, before trucking it past my ass, ranting like a fucking psychopath.
"About how some people have everything handed to them on a silver platter."
Bitch.
Show me your Spec. Ops Bandanna. Right now.
What? You don't have one?
Wow.
Go get yours on a silver platter then. I fucking earned mine by starving, bleeding, scrapping, freezing, fearing, stinking, bleeding, crawling, biting, kicking, weeping, moaning, screaming, bleeding, damn near dying and fighting off one wicked case of pneumonia.
Don't you even fucking dare give me that "silver platter" shit, bitch.
I earned everything that I own.
Unlike you.
Amber was the flotsam of the human DNA sequence. Amber had so much chlorine in her fucking gene pool, your eyes would blister on sight of her. And her nasty, attitude rank, snide-ass voice would make your ears bleed. Speaking of that voice…
…
"You two done looking at the board yet? Some of us have work to do."
Amber, you never did an honest day's worth of work in your whole fucking life.
"I don't think that twerking it to a Sandshrew qualifies as work, Warrant Officer Hail."
My buttons were already jammed into the console.
And starting tonight, I was gonna be spending twelve hours a day, every fucking other day, with that fucking cuntsnatching bitch-
-For six whole months-
-On Firewatch Patrol.
If Amber wasn't dead by morning, I was applying for Canonization.
The Patron Saint of-
...Fuck it, I'd apply for Canonization after slitting her throat.
Zane Bastard of the Greenbacks: The Patron Saint of Making the World a Prettier Place-
-One Knife Stroke at a Time.
"What did you just say to me, Warrant Officer Bastard?" Amber was glaring up a fucking pussybeam right at the back of my neck. I could feel the spineless self-entitled rays bouncing off of my impenetrable good-looks.
"Corporal Garcia, you're my witness. Warrant Officer Hail just referred to me as a 'Bastard.' Now let's go write that grievance for the Colonel." I put on my slowest drawl, and made sure to whine every other syllable. Carlos was cracking up.
"Oh, you're so funny... Warrant Officer Bastard..." Amber acted as if I didn't just hand her ass to her with all the trimmings on the side. I fucking hate poor sportsmanship.
"No, Carlos is funny. I just speak the Goddamn truth, whether you appreciate it or not, bitch."
Oh yeah. I was escalating.
"I'm writing you up for that, Bastard. I was gonna let the Sandshrew comment go-"
"Why, because you didn't want your boyfriend getting wounded when you betrayed his ass?" I cut Amber off with a deadpan jab. Amber absolutely fucking hated me when I was deadpanning it. Probably because she couldn't tolerate that much, 'I don't give a fuck.'
"You're going to fucking hell, Bastard... And I'm going to be the one to send you there." Amber was alreading shaking, and I hadn't even gotten started.
"Hell? Oh-fuck-me. Hell for me is gonna be an expanse of naked Ambers, all spreading their spindly fucking anorexic legs. Please Amber. Don't send me to Hell. I don't want to know what you look like bare ass naked." Still fucking deadpan. Carlos was having a seizure, he was trying so damn hard not to laugh at a pissed-off Superior Officer.
"I'd never let you fucking touch me, you fucking pig." Amber spat that funny fucking line through chattering teeth. I almost lost my deadpan demeanor to a roar of laughter.
Really, Amber? You wanna go there?
Why didn't you just say so sooner?
To Note:
I have fucked the most slovenly of whores so dirty rotten that after I was done with them, the term "slovenly" needed to be replaced with "fucking nasty."
I've rammed my cyclopean whale up through a gasping Policewoman's thong, while I bent her over a parked motorcycle in the middle of a town square.
I once banged a Trainer who got covered from head-to-toe in Butterfree guts, after I disemboweled the winged fuck attacking her with my bare hands. That slime-encrusted Trainer was so grateful that I'd saved her ass, she let me use the backdoor.
I've porked one-eyed Vets more than twice my age in a literal foxhole. No shit. Man, those berets are fucking kinky. It ain't sexual misconduct if it ain't on the record.
And this anorexic cunt honestly thought that I wanted to screw her next?
Fuck.
No.
"I wouldn't stick my dick inside your craw even if I had Carlos dress it up all nice-and-tidy-like in an umbrella first, simply because I can't tolerate your crazy-stanky-funk." Amber shat her fucking drawers, she was so fucking scandalized.
I just tell it like it is.
"The Colonel is going to hear every word you just said, Bastard." Amber hissed when she could draw breath again.
Yeah, go right ahead.
Threaten me with that feeble shit.
"Good. I hope that the Colonel laughs just as hard as Carlos is when he hears it."
Carlos was gonna get himself killed with his shitty-ass laughter. And I was gonna be the one to string him up. You do not laugh through your fucking nose. That shit is annoying as fuck.
"Vauban, let's go. I can't stand the smell of Walkout. Especially not the scent of an Officer Walkout." I left the fucking Board and the red faced Walkouts behind. Vauban came out from under a bench, wide eyed and worried. That poor mon had faced off against a fucking Magmar before without balking, and here I had scared my little girl to death.
I'm so sorry, baby. I shouldn't have lost my head.
"Let's get to the clinic, Vauban. I want those bruises I gave you checked out. I want to make sure that there's nothing broken underneath them."
I slowed my march down, and with a jabbing finger, I indicated that my green shadow was to walk beside me. Vauban hesitantly took her spot at my calf, looking up at me with guilt pouring from her eyes.
No, Vauban it was all me. That was all on me.
You're fine just the way-
-Stop it. Now.
"Get behind me, Vauban. Monsters do not march beside their Commanding Officers." I growled fiercely, and my poor tortured girl fell into a shameful step behind me.
Good.
I didn't want her to see me fighting the tears.
...
I still took Vauban to the clinic despite my reservations. Most of the senior medical staff were out with the Vets on the S-ranks. We had more freaking S-rank missions than we had Rangers. Dangerous mon were always fucking something up, whether it was a Trainer, a Town, or just the fucking world. It all depended on the season.
Right now, it was the Nido fucking season. The Nidorino were starting their ruts, and the Nidokings were just getting out of theirs. We had pregnant Nidoqueens squirting out Nidorans in the thousands, and the Nidorina were next. Nidorina generally birthed anywhere from three to five Nidorans a season, and the Nidoqueens shat out sixteen to twenty-one. The Rangers were hustling to cull their numbers before they became a threat to the settlements again.
...
The Nidorans and Nidorinas were generally pretty skittish, so they were pretty easy to wipe out when found. The Nidorinos, Nidoqueens, and Nidokings? That was an entirely different matter.
The males, Nidoking and Nidorino, formed packs during the rut. They would gouge each other to death when they found a female Nidorina or Nidoqueen. The victor got the poon, and the losers got to bleed. Pretty fucking basic as far as nature goes.
The real Nido problem was the fucking Packs. They'd kill each other off without any hesitation whatsoever on sight of a female, but they'd attack as a group if any thing else got close to their territory. It didn't take long for a Pack of Nido to kill a human being who'd mistakenly wandered into their spawning grounds. And they didn't just hump the female members of their species either. They were so Goddamn horny that they'd fuck anything menstruating.
Including humans. We had cases every year involving Trainers who ignored our fucking warning signs and walked out into the Frontier, only to get raped to death by a Pack of fucking Nidokings. All because those stupid fucking Trainers went somewhere they shouldn't go on that special week of the month.
The Nidokings are the most dangerous indigenous species of mon in Viridian. They're extremely territorial, brutally strong and fast, and sticking with the Viridian motif; highly venomous. The Nidokings' size ranges anywhere from that of a man's, to that of Rhydon's. So we're talking a pretty fucking big mon. These scary fucks treated a Beedrill's pupae hive like an all-you-can-eat buffet, while the Beedrill couldn't do shit to them, thanks to the Nidokings inborn constitution regarding all things venom. The Nidokings are fairly rare; thanks to the fucking Rangers, I might add, but during the rut, the Nidokings come out in force.
One Nidoking is bad enough, but a twelve-member Pack?
You needed a Squad of Veteran Rangers to hunt down and kill that shit.
Which is why my Vets were fucking gone. I didn't know why the Colonel didn't send me with them. I was damn near a Vet myself, and we needed every available unit out in the field culling those sons-of-bitches back into endangerment. But instead, I was made to stroll along the established Routes on Firewatch, reminding Trainers not to wander off into the woods; because the big scary purple monsters out there were simply dying to fill them with holes, or just dying to fill a particular hole.
-With a venomous reproductive secretion that would enter your bloodstream and dissolve you from the arteries out, regardless of whether it was injected into the unnaturally bleeding hole, or the naturally bleeding hole.
That explanation usually kept people out of the fucking Viridian Forest all together, especially the girl kind of people, which is primarily why I fucking used it.
Rangers do not take kindly to sharing our women with the fucking mon.
I need to learn Latin, so that I can propose the above line for addition in the Ranger's Oath.
Because...
-Fucking inspiring, man.
…
Vauban was getting a check up from a Walkout medic named Lance Corporal Brenda Eckleson. Also known as the dumbest, sexiest broad in the whole fucking Outpost. While Brenda was checking Vauban's health out, I was checking Brenda's health out.
-And Brenda was looking even better now than she had when I'd last fucked her.
"So what were you up to on leave, Bren?" I will admit, Walkout or not, I wasn't going to talk down to those fine ass legs. You had to be a fucking Vet to be able to resist the allure Brenda's tasty thighs.
Or at least, not a seventeen year-old Warrant Officer, roaring fucking crazy with ego and hormones.
Brenda sent me a smile over Vauban's bulb, and I could feel my pants shrinking in the glow of those pristine white teeth.
"I got married!" Brenda flashed me a ring on her finger, and my life-threatening erection auto-dysfunctioned.
"Oh…"
Not what I was expecting. Brenda was somewhere around my age, younger than me I'd imagine. Most folk didn't tie down until they were settled, usually in their twenties at least. But Brenda had gotten noosed young, and as horny as I am, I still respect marriage.
Snort.
My only concern at this point... Was if Brenda still respected marriage.
"What do you mean 'Oh?' Shouldn't you say congratulations?" Brenda was a dumb shit, but damn was she was smoking.
"No, I meant 'Oh' as in; 'Oh,' who am I gonna fuck now?"
Did I mention that I'm a Fucking Bastard?
"Oh…" Brenda lit up with surprise.
Score.
"Um… Bastard… You know what marriage means, right?"
Mayday.
"Not really, no. Do you?"
Come on, roll snake eyes…
"Actually… I do."
Fuck.
"Well that's fucked. Congratulations, Lance Corporal Eckleson. I envy your lucky man."
Only for the sex. I wouldn't want to be married to your stupidity.
"Well thank you, Bastard!" Enter Brenda's big ol' dopey smile.
Goddamn, I almost feel sick for sticking my dick inside of this dumb broad.
"You're… Welcome."
No you fucking aren't.
"Vauban, you've grown a whole twelve pounds since I last measured you! What is Bastard feeding you?" Brenda was giving Vauban the the child speech, and I couldn't quite abide that.
I'm the only one who can speak to Vauban using kiddy-talk.
"Virgins." I growled. I was baking under my uniform, beating the hormones and self disgust back; and getting furious fucking angry doing so. Brenda looked up at me with a startled expression.
"You like virgins, don't you Vauban?" I gave my mon the jester's grin. Vauban knew to play along.
Burb. Said Vauban, happy.
"Good. You can eat the virgins. I can't stand the taste of them myself. I like my meals… seasoned."
Do you like my eyes twitching, Brenda?
Well, do you?
"Really, Bastard?"
You didn't even fucking notice, did you? You stupid fucking walking vagina-
"Really, Brenda..."
I give up. I'm too cynical to explain cynicism to you.
"Okay… Well, keep doing whatever you're doing with her, and Vauban will be an Ivysaur well before-"
"Warrant Officer Bastard?"
Some fucking Walkout looking for a piece of my mind just interrupted the most important, intelligent, and relevant thing to have come out of Brenda's mouth since my dick.
"Do you want something? Private?" Do I even have to clarify to you what my tone and expression said to him? Oh, he was backing up now. Yeah, my reputation as a minor Veteran was not to be fucked with.
"P-private Peter Samuels, reporting sir. I- I have a dispatch for you." Sweating at the seams. Brand spanking new Walkout. First fucking year in the Rangers.
I can't wait to pick my teeth with your head.
"If it's another cock portrait from Carlos, so help me God…"
"No! It's from the Colonel!"
Whoa. Let me find my etiquette.
"The Colonel sent you with a message for me?"
"Yeah- A dispatch… Requesting your immediate audience in the Colonel's office."
"Oh…"
…
Colonel Isaac Howes. Where to begin?
How about this:
He was the closest thing I had to a father anymore.
I'm not saying that we had a creepy touchy-feely relationship. I just meant that whenever I acted in any way, I caught myself wondering:
"What would the Colonel think of this?"
Yeah, I wanted to please him. I've got no shame in admitting it. Primarily because the Colonel was a man worthy of my respect.
Patient? You wouldn't believe that he'd served in the Rangers for forty-six years.
Intelligent? You don't make Colonel by playing dumb and kissing ass.
Decisive? A little over twenty years ago, in a situation involving a Wheezing outbreak, the Colonel ordered a Squad of Rangers to commit suicide in order to save Viridian's clean water supply. He slept soundly that night.
Honorable? The Colonel raised the biggest fucking memorial to those Rangers, and he visits it once a fucking week to pour top-shelf whisky over their graves.
A Leader? The Colonel was the best kind. On slow paperwork weeks, that geriatric bastard was out there running S-Ranks with the Vets. I actually got to serve with Colonel Isaac Howes twice in separate campaigns. Both he and his fucking Blastoise wrecked shit up.
Compassionate? No. Fuck no. A Colonel cannot afford to be compassionate. Especially not towards his regiment. But somehow, every Ranger at the Outpost experienced the same delusion that Colonel Isaac Howes actually saw us as more than pawns. We were his own little posse of amigos, and he never actually revealed it.
But we all knew.
It's really hard to explain it. I guess you would have to be in the service to understand it, but the relationship between Colonel Isaac Howes and his regiment was something deep.
An example? When I had first requested Spec. Ops Training, Colonel Isaac Howes had been dead set against it. The Colonel claimed that I was going to get killed, and that he didn't want that on his conscious. But I volunteered, and you never turn down a Special Operations volunteer. Two weeks after that request, a very haggard Colonel came into the infirmary himself to award me with my Spec. Ops bandanna.
-And to share my first "legal" drink with me.
Ever since then, I've found myself hankering towards a good, stiff, peaty, smooth scotch.
...
"Vauban, play nice with the Lance Corporal. I will pick you up from Brenda as soon as I'm done dealing with the Colonel. Brenda-"
"Yes, Bastard?"
"Make sure that Vauban gets a dose of her favorite fertilizer, then put her on R&R until I get back. You are both dismissed. Private-"
"Y-yes, Warrant Officer B-Bastard?"
"Quit your fucking stuttering. Call me Bastard. Private or not, you're still a Greenback, and Greenbacks adhere to efficiency. Warrant Officer has too many syllables. Save the rank for etiquette. We're all Rangers here."
"Y-yes, sir, War- Bastard."
"Stem the stammering, Pete. Now lead the way."
The march to Colonel Howes's office was mostly silent. The little Private was as nervous as fuck. I thought about inquiring as to the nature of the summons, but I had my doubts that a Private would know. Even so, this newbie needed to be broken in.
"So what do you do, Pete?"
"Sir?"
"I'm assuming that you joined the Rangers with an agenda. What is your intended resume?" I was being patient, but that had everything to do with the Colonel. The man inspired me with a deep sense of leadership that few others could. Normally I'd just abuse the fresh meat, but lucky for Pete, his herald had saved him from my malice.
"I-I'm ah- trying for a Communications Officer." Pete wasn't getting any less nervous.
"A radio jockey?" I asked, my voice a monotone.
"Well, just a Radio Operator for now." Pete was beginning to ease up, perhaps assuming that I was interested in his plans.
I wasn't.
"Can you tell your 'Rogers' from your 'Overs' yet? Cause I swear, if it was your ass who got me and Carlos stuck at a-"
"I just transferred from the academy! This is my second day in Viridian!" Pete was panicking fast. The kid had a natural disposition towards panic it seemed.
"Hey! Don't you lose your fucking head with me! You keep it calm and professional. Remember, Pete, your fucking ability to maintain your cool is essential to your role in Viridian. Keep your Comms clean-cut and precise, and nobody is going to die because of a mis-com." I was ready to snap Pete's neck.
"Yes, sir!" Training took over for Pete, and he answered his Superior Officer appropriately.
"Good. You keep that fucking cool. Now about this summons?" I growled. Pete maintained his composure.
"Nothing I know about. All I know is that there's a Military Aide in the office with the Colonel."
That got me wondering.
"A Military Aide? What the hell is the Military doing in a Ranger Outpost? Wanting to see what some action looks like?"
…
A lot of people in the Confederacy think that the Rangers are an extension of the Military. They couldn't be more fucking wrong. The Military and the Rangers are completely separate divisions, with completely different purposes.
The Military kills people in wars.
The Rangers kill monsters every fucking day.
The Kanto-Johto Confederacy had not been involved in any wars for almost thirty years now. We still maintained a fighting force of men and mon in the event that war would rise again, but for now, the world seemed a pretty stable place. Meaning that the Military did absolutely nothing, and the Rangers were always fighting.
Our last War had been fought with Johto, and the end result had been a Confederacy. We got to the point where neither side wanted to fight anymore, and rather than kill each other off for resources, we decided to enter an accord.
Both sides would maintain their autonomy, and neither side would attempt to exploit the other. Instead, we'd pool revenue, and fund a limited central Government for ensuring the equal interest of our two nations. We'd also support each other militarily, just in case Unova or Kalos wanted a slice of our real estate. Kanto had a need for raw materials, and Johto had a need for finished products. Kanto had the industrial know-how, and Johto had the resources.
It was a match made in hell.
We were thirty years past the date that the armistice had been signed, and Johto and Kanto still couldn't stop pointing fingers at one another, accusing the other side of starting the war.
Fucking politicians spent more time bickering about the wrongs of the past instead cooperating together in order to make a righting of the future.
But what did you expect? Politicians have never changed. I mean, they're only ambitious backstabbing pricks just looking out for their own interests. Who can blame them for fucking the rest of us over? Even in the Pre-Brink, the historical archives are filled with the most ridiculous subjects argued about for centuries, all by politicians pushing their own ethics up other people's assholes.
The historical legislation that stood out the most for me, was of course, the Gay Marriage dispute and Global Climate Change 'debate.'
Gay Marriage had no right to be a part of any politician's campaign structure. Gay Marriage was harmless, but the idiots of the old world were afraid of it. They were disturbed by someone else's sexual preferences, and they wrote laws forbidding unions between homosexuals.
Can you fucking believe that?
For God's sake, how did homosexuality affect the politician's lives?
The answer?
It didn't. But they had their own God-given morales and they were going to jam them down everyone else's throats, regardless of the fact that nothing detrimental ever came from lesbians banging each other raunchy with rings on their fingers.
If that wasn't oppression, then I don't know what was.
And Global Climate Change?
What a fucking joke.
We had the evidence staring us right in the Goddamn face for centuries, but key political leaders kept denying it on the premise that it was going to cost too much to save our world from ourselves. They may have quoted misleading scripture in order to hide the truth, but profit and arrogance was the sole motivation for their continued abuse of the world.
If I didn't hate mon so much, I might have thanked them for the Brink Collapse.
'Cause toppling us off of our high ground and teaching us fear and humility probably saved the world.
Wow… That was a little more passionate than I meant to get into. Sorry about that. But I like to think that I've learned from mistakes of the past.
I just wish that our politicians would.
…
"Alright, we're here. You are dismissed, Private. Return to your comm station." Pete and I found the office, and I gave him leave of his herald duty, before knocking on the Colonel's door.
"Come in." Colonel Howes's deep voice beckoned me past the threshold.
"Warrant Officer Zane Bastard, reporting to a summons." I stood in the center of that office at the attention stance, my eyes dead ahead. I could make out the Colonel's spectacled face leaning over his desk, and a blue Class A uniform indicated Military personnel at the Colonel's shoulder.
Pete was not joking. This cat's insignia said Lieutenant, and I could tell by his age alone that he'd only ascended to that rank via a desk job pushing papers. He was way too young to have fought in the last war. My guess? The Lieutenant was from the Military's Internal Affairs Division.
Which made his presence in the Viridian's Ranger Outpost all the more curious.
The Colonel took his time reviewing and signing whatever was on his desk, before looking up at me with a tired expression on his face. It took him a full minute of staring at me to give the rest command.
"At ease, Bastard." I assumed the rest stance.
"You're probably wondering why I called you here today, especially seeing as a Military Aide is standing presently at my side." The Colonel only spoke in a husky drawl, every word he spoke sounded heavy and abrasive.
"That is affirmative, Colonel." I answered in a voice reserved for Vets and the Colonel. No bullshit attitude inflected in my tone.
"Three reasons, Bastard." The Colonel let his breath out slowly and quietly from his nose, in what some might interpret as a sigh.
"Item number one. Warrant Officer Amber Hail handed me this." The Colonel lifted the piece of paper off of his desk.
"I don't think that twerking it to a Sandshrew qualifies as work, Warrant Officer Hail." The Colonel began a recital.
"No, Carlos is funny. I just speak the Goddamn truth, whether you appreciate it or not, bitch."
"Hell? Oh fuck me. Hell for me is gonna be an expanse of naked Ambers, all spreading their spindly fucking anorexic legs. Please Amber. Don't send me to Hell. I don't want to know what you look like bare ass naked."
"I wouldn't stick my dick inside your craw even if I had Carlos dress it up all nice-and-tidy-like in an umbrella first, simply because I can't tolerate your crazy-stanky-funk." The Colonel finished his monotone recital, and began to rub his eyes with his spare hand.
"What are you doing in the Rangers, Bastard? You could make a fortune being a Goddamn comedian." The Colonel threw Amber's grievance into his waste basket.
"Though I do not contest your claims of endowment, Bastard... I highly doubt that an umbrella is necessary." There was a tiny lift to the corner of my Colonel's mouth.
"I'm prone to exaggeration, Colonel. But when it comes to my manhood, no exaggeration is necessary." The Aide's eyes widened in shock. My Colonel just started chuckling.
"Well, that line closes item number one. Item number two." The Colonel looked up to the Military Aide. The Aide lifted a small aluminium briefcase, and placed it on the Colonel's desk. The Colonel punched in whatever combo was necessary, unfastened the clips, and pivoted the briefcase's front towards me.
"High Command has approved your requisition for a Hunter-Killer. Congratulations, Warrant Officer." I approached the briefcase, and opened it. There were two items inside. One was a pink and white paper manifest; a dispatch. The other, resting in a tight nest among the black foam, was a pokeball.
"Well, Bastard… Show me your new dog." The Colonel leaned back in his desk. I lifted the pokeball from the foam, and glanced at the dispatch's bottom right corner.
PKMN Callsign: Cortez.
"Cortez, report." I barked, releasing the pokeball's trigger. A beam of white poured out into the Colonel's office, and condensed into an orange and black Growlithe. I was stunned. I had requested a pretrained Hunter Killer from High Command, but this-
"Colonel, I thought that I put in a requisition for a hound... Not a giant scab."
This dog was fucked up beyond all belief. His entire right side was all pitted scar tissue. The corresponding side of his head was bald, and without the hair, a Growlithe's face doesn't really look all that dissimilar from their skulls.
The hound just fixed me with two calm eyes. His left eye was hazel-green. The right eye was stark purple and bloodshot.
"Cortez was not only trained by the Military, Warrant Officer Bastard. Cortez was deployed in the recent separatist skirmishes in Fuschia. He was wounded killing a enemy detachment of Grimers. Cortez has combat experience to go along with that training, and his condition does not inhibit his abilities in the least." It was the Aide speaking now, and he had something of a squeal for a voice. Despite the irritating sound of the Aide's voice, I was now regarding the hound before me with new respect.
This dog was a Veteran, and I'd just insulted his service.
"My apologies, Cortez. I had not the privilege of reviewing your dispatch before our first encounter." I met that dog's eyes with sincerity. The still pooch just swelled slowly and sighed, never blinking or changing expression.
I picked up Cortez's dispatch, and began perusing the contents.
"...It says here that Cortez isn't just a Hunter-Killer. Pathfinder too, top hound in the kennels. Huh. That'll be useful. ...Hold up… He under went the Military's Spec. Ops Training with his assigned Military Trainer?" I looked over to the Aide in awe.
"Cortez was the best hound we had in the whole Fuschia district. He went through everything, and he did everything." The Aide replied. That got me looking back at this dog pensively.
"Was the best?" I asked. The Aide coughed. Cortez never shifted.
"...What happened to his Commanding Officer?" I asked, voice getting deep. The first sign of emotion crossed that dog's fucked up face.
"Died." The Aide replied. That got my teeth gritting.
"So why the hell is this dog still alive?" I asked dangerously. Service mon are expected to die for their Trainers. We beat that into them. If a human life is endangered, it is a Service mon's explicit duty to lay down their own life in order to save that human life. Vauban was trained that way, and even Darwin was trained as such. Both the Rangers and the Military do not view our mon as pets. We are not Trainers.
Our mon are disposable weapons, and we are trained to use them as such.
"It was a domestic dispute. Not a wartime confrontation." The Aide replied, respectfully. I dropped the anger at once. Cortez was probably in a Military kennel while his Commanding Officer was out on leave. That Commanding Officer never came back from leave.
"Well, Cortez… It looks like I owe you another apology." I knelt down to one knee before Cortez, and took his fleshy jaw in a hand. I lifted his dogged eyes up to mine, and held his gaze for a moment, before finally uttering-
"...And I am truly sorry for your loss." The pooch swallowed. There was something deep to this dog, make no mistake.
There was something real deep down to Cortez.
"I don't know, Colonel. I think that High Command outdid themselves with this one. This dog is practically the Growlithe version of me. A perfect match." I reported as I rose from Cortez. This dog was incredibly quiet. Especially for a Growlithe. I was looking right at him, and I could barely tell that Cortez was in the room.
"I'm glad to hear that Cortez exceeds your expectations, Bastard. We have high hopes that you will be able to rehabilitate him into the role of a Ranger." The Colonel replied. I looked back at Cortez, trying to get him to meet my eyes again.
"I don't know how much work I'm gonna have to do, Colonel. This dog is already as much of a Ranger as I am." Cortez glanced at me. He heard that subtle tone in my voice, and his eyes answered to it.
The Call of Brotherhood.
"Pleased to hear it. Now onto item number three." The Colonel closed the briefcase, and the Military Aide removed it from the desk.
"As you may know, Viridian Outpost got lucky this year. A lot of new recruits applied to Viridian, and High Command saw fit to send them here. We're looking at record personnel numbers now, Bastard. Even if record numbers isn't enough." The Colonel fixed me with a dead stare.
"We're forming a new outfit, Ranger. Call sign Echo. Six man unit. And we need a Commanding Officer." The Colonel looked at me sternly, and the Military aide was watching me like a starving Drowzee.
Creepy fucker.
"I can provide you with a list of recommendations for Echo's CO immediately, sir." I knew where this was going, but I wasn't gonna show it. The Colonel fixed me with barest hint of amusement in his eyes.
"You are the recommendation, Bastard." The Colonel played along. He could see right to my gloating core. Finally, my own Command. Me, the Commanding Officer of Echo. I couldn't wait-
"One thing, Bastard." The Colonel cut my rising smirk off at the cheek. That wasn't a good tone.
"Echo will be comprised of Walkouts."
I dropped the mother of all F-bombs right there on the Colonel's desk. Fuck etiquette. Fuck Echo. Fuck this.
Fucking Walkouts?!
"Echo will be deployed into the Frontier. Long term sustained Patrols in sector Charlie. I thought that you might appreciate leaving Firewatch behind, Bastard. If not, I'd like to see that list of CO candidates." The Colonel was as cool as a Persian. My outburst had not shaken him, or even disappointed him in the least. The Frontier? My own squad? I could smell my promotion cooking in the Colonel's desk.
"I humbly rescind my previous statement, and at a word from my Colonel; I will duly express my gratitude on hands and knees." I told it to him straight. That got a chuckle out of both my Colonel and the Aide.
They didn't call me the 'Fucking Bastard' for nothing.
"Well then, Echo Commander, your detachment will depart this Outpost tomorrow morning at O'-Nine-hundred hours. Your destination will be Frontier Charlie. Your squad's mission will be to dust her off, and get the lights warmed up. If another detachment finds themselves in sector Charlie and in need of rest, I expect Echo Squad to have a homecoming prepared for them. On top that, Echo will secure and maintain sector Charlie. We are expanding, Bastard. It's high time the Rangers take back what's ours." The Colonel was now smiling in full, and so was I.
"Permission to answer in a battle cry." I requested. The Colonel was already chuckling.
"Granted."
"FU-UCK YE-ASSS!" I roared it at the top of my lungs. The Aide staggered back, laughing. I doubt he saw that kind of enthusiasm in the Military.
"You are to report to the Quartermaster at O'-five-hundred hours tomorrow morning for your field tack. After Second-Lieutenant Raynes clears you and grants you the manifest, you are then to report directly to my office. Skip breakfast. We'll dine over the details." The Colonel was closing one of the best days of my life, but he had a cherry to add to the top.
"Last thing, Bastard." The Colonel cut the giggles. I was all ears.
"I'm pulling you off of Firewatch tonight. You are getting some sleep, and you will make it a habit. The Commander of Echo Squad will be at his best at all times. Do I make myself clear?" The Colonel was not fucking around, and I was not gonna test him with my wits. Anyways-
-I was getting officially chalked up for R&R when I was supposed to be docked for Firewatch with Amber.
Win-fucking-Win.
"These eyes will close and they will not open until their shadows fade." I swore an oath.
"Very good, Warrant Officer Zane Bastard. You are dismissed." The Colonel granted me leave, and I called Cortez to my shadow.
"Come on, Cortez. It's time for you to meet the rest of my regiment." I smiled at the weary dog as we trucked it towards the clinic. I laid a quizzical eye on Cortez.
"Correction. Our regiment." I rephrased, looking for a reaction. Cortez's tail twitched ever so slightly. My smile grew even wider.
I fucking knew it.
...
"What the fuck is this?" I emptied the contents of my G.I. field package on the Quartermaster's counter.
A mountain of MREs? Check. Water purification unit? Check. First Aide and Trauma Kit? Check. Four rolls of toilet Paper? I was gonna need more of that if I was gonna be eating MREs, but otherwise, Check. Crash Kit replete with a compression tarp? Check. Wetstone? Check. One-hundred meters of rope? Check. C4?
C4?
Problem.
"Where the fuck is my C4?" I shuffled through all of the other useless shit, looking for my ordnance.
"Where's my Thermite? Where's my Det. Cord? Where's my ANFO?" I couldn't even find a stick of TNT in that crapshoot.
"Where the fuck is my fucking ordnance?!" I just about swept the whole pile on the floor, but the Quartermaster's lonely stinkeye stopped me dead.
"Command's requisition didn't clear you for the heavy works, Bastard. Blasting Caps and a Flare Gun is all you're getting." The Quartermaster informed me in a tone that was an inch away from forgotten patience.
"Are you shitting me?!" The Quartermaster's one-eyed glare told me everything I needed to know.
"Well that's fucked. Why don't you just give me some fucking bottle rockets and a package of firecrackers then?" Man, I was pissed. How was I supposed to blow shit up with Blasting Caps and a fucking Flare Gun?
"Look at my Badge. See that numerical code? That reads 'Sapper.' Now I know you landed a comfy position behind a counter, but even you should know that 'Sapper' means blow shit up. So why the fuck is Command handing me hairspray and matches?" I was damn near yelling at a Senior Officer. If I hadn't given her the best sex of her Ranger life, my ass would be in a holding cell in T-minus: One-veteranshitstorm.
"You're going into the Frontier, Bastard. Long haul. You're not doing an S-rank pursuit of a Trainer-killing Nidoking. You're on stake out. Stake out means quiet. Quiet means Blasting Caps and a Flare Gun. Sorry, Sapper. But you aren't getting an ounce of C4 from me without Command's approval." I should have given her props for not setting me straight right then and there, but I was the Fucking Bastard.
And the Fucking Bastard needs his C4.
"Come on, Trish. Just sneak me a pound of fun and a remote detonator. I need my fucking ordnance, and I need it now." My voice sounded fucking desperate. I was hooked on things that go boom. A demolitions junkie. The single most impressive thing about my Sapper career is that I still have all my parts in the proper order.
And after some of the shit I pulled, they should've been sweeping my head into a Pallet Town dumpster, and knocking my feet off of a Pewter City roof. All in the same damn day.
Trish wasn't having any of it. She was not falling for my puppydog eyed routine or my pouting lips.
"You can call me Second-Lieutenant Raynes... Warrant Officer Bastard."
Ouch. She'd just put my dick in impound.
And I still didn't have my fucking C4 to show for it.
"Fine. I'll figure something out." I crammed all that needless shit back into my pack with an attitude ripe enough to sour fresh milk.
I was fuming at the gills.
"Hold up, Bastard." Trish stopped me cold with that tantalizingly evil tone. I looked up from my disappointing package of shameful excuses and saw Trish handing me a holster with a sidearm in it.
I locked the fuck up.
"You're a Squad Leader now, Bastard. Squad Leaders don't go into the field without their G.I. Nine-millimeter as standard. Congratulations."
Congratulations? No. No fucking way. There was no fucking way that this was happening. I couldn't take that gun.
That thing scared the shit out of me.
You see, explosions are my thing, cause I can stand far fucking away from the chorus. I can rig a Beedrill hive with Det. Cord, and leave a ring of C4 around ground zero's outer perimeter. Then I can walk off, blow the hive, and sit on the C4's trigger until the rodeo shows up.
Mon do not take very well to explosions. I had to train Vauban like a motherfucker to keep her from cutting loose and going psycho on me anytime something went boom.
It's fucking genetic. Mon have got some fucked up genes compared to anything that evolved on Earth, and that's why they were able to kick our ruddy asses raw back during the Brink Collapse.
The Brink Collapse is also why mon fucking hate explosions so Goddamn much. It took them all of two generations to develop an instinctive bloodrage reaction to the boom. They did not like getting shot up or blown up, and that became an inherent behavior.
If I shot that gun in the Forest, even with that tiny explosion going off an inch above my hand, every fucking pissed-off mon within a five klick radius would be booking it to the point of origin looking to kill my ass.
Pulling a gun's trigger was the same damn thing as committing seppuku. The. Very. Last. Fucking. Resort. I did not want that fucking thing anywhere near me.
"You gonna stand there all day, looking like you just shat your pants... Or are you going to take your sidearm, Squad Leader?" If I didn't know any better, I'd say that Trish was enjoying my reaction.
I do know better.
She was fucking loving it.
"I'm never gonna fucking use that thing." My voice sounded foreign even to me, that's how scared I was.
"If it's any consolation, Bastard? I hope that you never have to."
Fuck you, Trish.
Fuck.
You.
…
"Times have changed, Bastard." The Colonel informed me as we tucked into an early breakfast in his office. Galapagos, the Colonel's Blastoise, was taking his morning meal as well. It looked and smelled like a bowl of petrified shit, but that Blastoise was chomping it up like it was prime rib. That fucking turtle was huge. I'd seen Galapagos in the field before, but out in the open; he just looked big. Inside a building though, that was a whole nother story. He was fucking huge. Galapagos could barely stand up straight without his shell scraping the office ceiling, and that was with his dual hydro cannons stowed.
That was one scary turtle, let me tell you.
"You would know more about the times than I would, sir." I replied. The Colonel smiled, though he seemed a little sad.
"I know that I'm an old Ranger, Zane... but I can still kick your ass." The Colonel reminded me. Galapagos looked up from his bowl of turds, and gave me a dangerous eye.
"I never meant it like that, sir. I suppose that I should have considered the phrasing of my reply." I was straight up with Colonel. I had not meant any disrespect to him regarding his age.
"And how would you rephrase it, Bastard?" The Colonel asked, returning to his serious self.
"Enlighten me." I answered. The Colonel worked his mouth.
"I guess you're not always a bastard, Zane." The Colonel sighed, and grew pensive. It was a while before he answered me.
"It used to be, back when I was your age… That the Rangers were considered the most honorable outfit in the world. People used to form lines at the recruiting office, just to serve in the capacity of that honor…" The Colonel was going back into his own past, and I was privileged to accompany him.
"Men and women, flocking to earn their Berets… Back then, people knew… People understood." The Colonel shook his head. I swallowed. I knew that recruitment was at an all time low for the Rangers, but I only saw the work that absent Berets left me and the Vets. I never noticed the emotional damage this lack of commitment could do to the oldest of our members.
"Now? We have to pamper people just to get them into a uniform. Walkouts? We didn't have Walkouts when I was your age. People understood the responsibility of that Beret. People knew that if they didn't do what was necessary, everything that they loved was going to die…" The Colonel rubbed the tip of his nose.
"And now we've got every soft-headed Trainer and their ignorant fucking mothers banging on our front door, accusing us of something called, 'Pokemon Abuse...' What the hell has this world come too?" The Colonel growled in disgust.
"They're soft, sir. Like you said, ignorant. The Rangers of the past gave up everything for these people, and they aren't even remembered for it. Worse, the imbeciles that we're fighting for these days can't even tell the difference between a feral and domestic. You let those Trainers and their mothers into the Viridian reserve, and they'd kill themselves off trying to pet a Beedrill." My voice was raw venom. The Colonel groaned, aging before my very eyes.
"Everybody thinks that the threat is gone. Everybody thinks that if we leave the mon alone, the mon will leave us alone. God help us all if the politicians ever start talking like that…" I was no longer sitting across from the Colonel. All of his borders were removed. I was sitting across from the man who cast the shadow of the Colonel. I was sitting across from Isaac Howes. I could not believe that my Colonel respected the Bastard enough to reveal this man to me.
"The Rangers of the past were too successful. We took away people's need to fear. Since that mistake; everybody has grown complacent, ignorant, unwilling, even belligerent... And my Rangers are dying off in the fields, all in the effort of trying to pick up for society's slack." The Colonel was furious, in a quiet, brooding way.
"...I saw the casualty reports, sir. And I know that recruitment isn't covering them…" I whispered. The Colonel slammed his fist down into his desk, jarring his plate of eggs. Galapagos was watching him with a calm eye. Supportive, yet separate of his Commanding Officer.
"...I need Rangers, Bastard… And I need them now." The Colonel got himself back under control.
"You might have been wondering why I took you off of the S-ranks when the Walkouts came home?" The Colonel asked. I swallowed again, and nodded.
"I did it because you are the first recruit that I've had in twenty years who understands what it means to be a Ranger. Hell, you even put the seventeen-year old me to shame. You are the lonely gem in this new generation of Rangers, Zane. And both me and High Command have noticed it. You will get your Black Beret... And you will earn it, Zane." The Colonel was fixing me with a steely eye. I freely admit to choking up right there. I was seconds away from tears. That was the most profound and touching thing my Colonel had ever told me.
"I put you back in your class's fold for a reason. I wanted them to see what a Ranger should be. I wanted someone from their generation to provide the example. I know that they're afraid of you, Zane... but I also know that they idolize you." This was getting to be too much. Anymore of this, and I would be requesting tissues.
"I need you to take the five best individuals of your class, the ones that have the highest potential… And I need you turn these Walkouts into Rangers." The Colonel popped open a bottle of scotch, and poured two shots full.
"Can you do that, Zane? Can you do what I cannot?" The Colonel was beginning to diminish. I did not want to see this great man crushed by the inequities of his shit junior regiment.
"Even if it kills me, Colonel Howes. I swear that the five you give me will be even more than me." The Colonel began to laugh, passing me the peaty morning syrup.
"Six little Bastards… Shit Zane, if you can do that… We'll end up turning Echo Squad into Blackhat Team number nine." The Colonel was laughing, and I was struggling not to cry. Both the Colonel's faith and praise meant more to me than the world.
"You're not going to be very happy with me when you see Echo Squad's candidates. I already had them dragged out of their bunks and brought before Second-Lieutenant Raynes for loadout. They'll be waiting for us when we get out into the yard. Trust me, Zane… Despite their personalities, they are the best the academy has to offer." The Colonel sighed, supping at his scotch.
"Well, as long as Warrant Officer Amber Hail isn't a part of Echo, I won't have any problems with them." I joked, laughing my ass off. It was a moment before I realized that my Colonel wasn't laughing with me. I stopped laughing and looked at the man. He was staring at me something severe. Galapagos began to guffaw. I froze, before my horrified voice could find the wind with which to feed speech.
"Oh, you gotta be fucking me-"
…
"Atten-hut!" The Yard Commander barked out as soon as the Colonel and I marched out into the early morning sun. I took my place next to the Yard Commander and his flagpole, while the Colonel saluted the Ranger's standards above me. Then Colonel Isaac Howes took his place before my Echo, and addressed the five Walkouts standing at attention in the yard.
"My Rangers…" The Colonel paced a line before my five underlings.
"You are all probably wondering what you are doing here today, dressed in your BDUs and sporting your designated tactical loadouts." The Colonel came to a halt at the far end of the line, without facing the poor sucker standing there. The Yard Commander had spread the five out nice and wide, making everyone of them feel like an island.
"There is an answer for that. When you walked into your recruiter's office, you swore an Oath before both an Officer and your nation. You swore an Oath to answer a call." The Colonel walked back to the center, and stood far enough back so that all eyes could see him.
"Do you hear that, Rangers?" The Colonel cupped a hand around his right ear. The new morning was absolutely silent.
"Listen... Listen closely…" The Commander whispered, but that whisper carried well through the quiet.
"THAT IS THE SOUND OF THE CALL, RANGERS!" The Colonel roared. My unit jumped. I found that fucking disgraceful, and I let it be known in my furious glare.
"EACH AND EVERYONE OF YOU- is a blight standing in a uniform. My uniform." The Colonel sounded pissed, and every delinquent in that line struggled to maintain composure.
"However… blights though you may be, everyone of you are best blights I have. And the best of the blights is not going to be enough, Rangers." The Colonel resumed pacing, though he fell short of a full line.
"I have had it with you fucks living the easy life. I am tired of watching you waste in my uniform. You are going to shape up. You are going to make a difference. When you come back to this Outpost in six months… Everyone of you will be a Ranger in my uniform. Or you will be buried with full honors in my uniform." The Colonel worked his way down into a harsh whisper, and closed by falling back into the far center.
"Echo Commander Bastard."
"Sir!" I stepped forward.
"They are in your charge now. Do not disappoint me. Anyone of you…" The Colonel growled the last, glaring at the line.
"Close ranks, Echo." I gave my first order as Squad Commander, and watched as it was flawlessly executed.
You're all gonna be hating me real soon, don't you worry…
"Then take them to the field, Bastard. They are all yours." The Colonel withdrew, leaving me with only the newly formed Echo Squad and the Yard Commander.
"Let's see here…" I took the Colonel footprints pacing, looking down at the ground, grinning.
"Corporal Garcia. I'm not surprised to see you in my outfit." I addressed the members of Echo starting from the right.
"Infantry, correct?" I asked the Corporal.
"Yes, sir." Carlos answered me with a soldier's face.
"Good. So I'm not gonna be all by my lonesome up on the front line. Glad to hear it. I'm making you my Second in Command." Carlos stiffened up.
"-But it has nothing to do with you applying those academy acclaimed leadership skills of yours. I'm making you my Second in Command because your face makes me laugh. I want that ugly fucking face as close to me as possible, just cause I'm gonna need a laugh… dealing with your inadequacies." I growled, moving on to the next individual.
"Private Erin Stilts. We've never met, have we?" I asked. He was young, a complete novice, straight out of the academy.
"No, sir." The Private answered.
"But you know who I am?" I asked, voice dipping dangerously low.
"Yes, sir."
"Well… Who am I?" I asked, seemingly all friendly. The Private wasn't dumb enough to fall for it. Good.
"You're the Bastard, sir." The Private's voice hinted at uncertainty. Not good, Stilts, not good at all.
"Who am I?" My voice skipped an octave as I bore down on him like a thunderhead. Stilts was cracking.
"I COULD HAVE SWORN THERE WAS A 'FUCKING' IN MY TITLE PRIVATE! SO WHO AM I?" I flecked his face and Beret with spit, my roaring mouth three inches from his person.
"YOU ARE THE FUCKING BASTARD, SIR!" The Private roared back. Better, Stilts. Better.
"No." I informed the shaken Private.
"My name is 'God' to you, Private. So tell God that you understand him when he speaks directly to you." I whispered.
"Yes, sir." Stilts answered, worried.
"Yes sir, who?" I pressed.
"Yes sir, God!" Stilts answered.
"Yes sir, GOD WHO?!" I roared it into his ears.
"YES SIR, GOD FUCKING BASTARD!" Bingo. I smiled as I stood back.
"Logistics and Navigation. Sucks to be you. I just got me a dog that makes your skillset redundant. Guess I'll have you navigate Echo a choice location for a logical latrine." I grumbled as I moved on.
"Ah… Lance Corporal Eckleson. I've seen your face an awful lot. I've actually seen even more than that. And I was quite pleased with what I saw." Brenda began to turn red at the ears, but she maintained that stoic face.
"You know, I'd never guess that your dumb ass was actually qualified for both Mon and Human medical service applications. Dual majors at your age? How the hell can you be so smart and so fucking stupid?" I asked, disgust rank in my voice. Brenda quivered. I'd let it go for now, but she was gonna harden up real fast.
"Echo, if you get a splinter, come to Eckleson with it. As you can probably tell by her perfect eyebrows, she's a fucking wizardess with a pair of tweezers. But if you're bleeding, you might want to come to me instead. I'll give you a round right between the eyes and a guarantee that its survivability is higher than anything Eckleson would administer." I almost made Brenda cry with my crude mockery. But it was my job to break all these Walkouts down, and it was my duty to build them back up into Rangers. Brenda would be crying very shortly. I was gonna have to be extra harsh with Brenda's soft ass. I moved to the next unit down the line.
"Priiii-vaaaate -Pete. Well I'll be. The squirrely little fuck I met yesterday. Comms, correct?" I actually sounded gleeful to see his scrawny ass in my Echo Squad.
"Affirmative, Bastard." The Private was quick with an answer. I glared at him.
"Excuse me?" I asked, deadly fucking serious. The Private tensed up.
"What did you call me?" I asked, my voice falling to the bottom of my formidable range. Pete took a steadying breath through his nostrils.
"No, no, Pete. You did well. You remembered what I taught you. Keep it up, Private. Very good, Radio Operator. Very good, but unfortunately…" I started all friendly and amused, before topping it off with the whistle of that dire bombshell.
"We are headed into the Frontier. With a skeleton crew. You are not going to be sitting cozy in front of a Comm station, Private. Your ass is going to be getting down and dirty with the rest of Echo in the field. Including combat situations. Buck up now, and get ready to relearn what you forgot back in the academy." Pete went fucking white and his legs began to tremble. I kicked his boots, and spat between his ankles.
"Remember what I told you about your cool, Pete." I growled, moving down to the final head. I wore my biggest, most evil, nastiest fucking grin for this one.
"Well…" My breath rumbled across my larynx as my wicked smile grew even nastier.
"...Oh… Ah... Well…" My demeanor was full on throat-slitter mode.
"...Give me a moment... to bask in your presence…"
"Warrant-"
"-Officer…"
"-Amber…"
"-Hail." She was already wide eyed and white as snow. I was gloating so damn hardcore that I feared for my heart's health. It was beating that fucking hard.
"...Words… Cannot… Describe my pleasure… Warrant Officer... Amber Hail…" Oh, she was shaking now.
"I could tell you… you know? I could tell you the craziest, most terrifying, most inhumane stories about where we are going… But you… You know better than that…" My face was a scant inch away from Amber's. All she could see was my crazy eyes, and my mean as hell smile.
"...You know where the real monster is, don't you?" Amber could barely hear my whisper for all the malice in it. Amber was about to faint, but I wasn't done with her yet. Not for one second. I had six months to turn her anorexic ass into spit and paste. I couldn't wait to get started.
"I'm going to enjoy our time together, Warrant. -Officer. -Amber. -Hail... Am I gonna love being your CO..." Right now, Amber was regretting ever joining up with the Rangers. She'd be properly regretting her birth by the time I was finished with her.
"I can't believe that the Colonel assigned you as Echo's Field-Tech. I could do the job ten times better than you can, but I'm Echo's CO. If you want to eat. -If you want to sleep indoors. -If you want to stay alive… You will make yourself an asset to Echo's mission... and only an asset. Do. I Make. My-self. Clear?" It was all Amber could do to swallow and nod. I'd already scared her nasty voice away.
"Good. Don't test me, Amber. If you become a fucking liability…" I let the consequences of ignoring that warning hang above her head, and even with her limited scope of an imagination, Amber could well guess at what would happen for trying the Fucking Bastard's patience when he governed her very life.
I fell back to the center, and stood where the Colonel had when he had first addressed them all.
"We are going into the Frontier, Rangers. Now I know that none of you have gone into the Frontier without a Squad of Vets covering your asses on introduction… But we are diving into that no-man's land with nothing more than our training and our wits. Everyone of you are going to give me one-hundred-and-fifty fucking percent. Or we will all die. Do not take my words for a dumb joke. I have gone balls deep into the Frontier, and I know what is waiting for us in there. You cannot slip. You cannot make a single mistake. You cannot hesitate…" I froze and glared at everyone of them in turn, giving them the full gravity of my bearing.
"Or we will all die." Everybody was really scared now. Now... It was an appropriate time to start building them back up
"Now the Colonel has faith in you, and he is telling me to have faith in you as well. But faith is not granted freely, it is earned. Now everyone of you have accolades warranting a Ranger. You will be proving that to me, and you will be proving to me your capacity to learn and survive. I have no faith in any of you all whatsoever. But I have faith in my Colonel, and I know that Isaac Howes would never lead us astray. You are mine, Echo. And I am yours. Remember that… Remember that when we are in the blood and the screaming, and the fear and the hate, and the living and the dying… We are Echo Squad. And we will not let down our Echo Squad... Now give me a roar."
"AD HONOREM!"
They shouted past their meekness and fear, and I demanded another.
"AD HONOREM!" My Rangers screamed out our calling loud and sharp.
"ONCE MORE, ECHO!" I joined them in that timeless battle cry, adding my voice to theirs. One voice. One cry. One unit.
Ad honorem.
"Yard Commander." I called out to the Superior of the yard.
"Commander Bastard, what is your request?" The Yard Commander put his dead eyes on me.
"Requesting permission to take leave of Prime Outpost and lead Echo into the Frontier." I placed my request.
"Permission granted, Commander Bastard. Farewell, Echo. Remember those who walked before you into the grey yonder. Remember those who led the first bleeding into the Brink. Remember those who answered the call, even when the world itself was weeping. Remember those who willingly died so that we may live, and honour their sacrifice in every action."
"...Tu Ne Cede Malis Sed Contra Audentior Ito." I recited the final line of our Oath, feeling the full weight of those spoken words within my heart.
"Tu Ne Cede Malis Sed Contra Audentior Ito..." Echo repeated my utterance in kind. The Yard Commander lifted his salute to us, and we raised ours to his.
"To the front, Echo." The Yard Officer was relieved of his salute, and stood back in the rest position.
"ECHO SQUAD! ATTEN-SHUN!" I shouted to my waiting unit. Every heel clicked together.
"READY-! -MARCH!" Every boot in Echo took two heavy steps in preparation.
"FOR-WARD! -MARCH!" I took that first step forward, at the head of my first Squad, and I marched myself and them out into that gray yonder.
…
Echo started down on one of Viridian's established routes, hard packed earth beneath our feet, massive tiered walls on either side, and heavy gauge mesh covering the partition above our heads. Panic buttons every three-hundred meters. We were in a safe zone.
"Command, this is Echo. We are seeing increased Trainer activity on the M-straight. Should we maintain position until they move on? Over." I muttered a report into my radio.
"Negative, Echo squad. Firewatch units are already monitoring the M-straight. Proceed to Frontier Charlie. Over." Command sent me some relief in the form of Walkout patrols.
"Roger that Command. This is Echo, over and out." I killed the line, and turned to Carlos.
"Glad to be moving up in world there, Carlos?" I tried to be amiable, but Carlos was unusually detached. He couldn't even nod or shake his head to my query. Well, maybe 'scared shitless' was a more fitting expression than 'detached.'
"I'll take that as a 'no.' Dammit Carlos, I thought that you would be all gung-ho about this." I shook my head and chuckled.
"Permission to speak freely?" Carlos requested in a voice weak enough warrant vomiting.
"Granted." I grinned at him.
"I'm not all that gung-ho about getting disemboweled, sir." Carlos gurgled. I started laughing.
"Neither am I, Carlos. But that only happens if something goes wrong." I gave him an evil grin.
"...And something always does go wrong…" My danger voice was living it up, even as Carlos staggered.
"Ease up there, Infantry. We're still on the M-straight. You can piss your pants when a Nidoking impales Pete to a tree, and only after it rapes Amber to death." I sounded gleeful, despite my unit's dread. I really was looking forward to this.
"Do… Do we have a plan of action just incase we come across a hive of Beedrill?" Carlos must have eaten his bravery without the milk this morning. He should have known better than to ask the Fucking Bastard that.
"Oh yeah, we got ourselves a nice tight contingency on the Beedrill front." I told Carlos reassuringly. A brief moment of relief shone in his eyes.
"We drop whatever the fuck we're carrying and we run fucking fast. You and I are the fastest here, so we'll be at the head of the retreat. I don't know about Erin, Pete, or Amber though. They'll probably be getting needle-raped in the first one-hundred meters of the retreat. I do hope that Brenda makes it, if for no other reason than because I want something nice to look at when we have to stop for a fucking breather." I said it all with the happiest voice in the whole Goddamn world. Carlos came to a dead stop.
"...Bastard?" Carlos's voice cracked on my name. I groaned.
"Fuck me, Carlos. It was a joke. My contingency for the Beedrill is avoidance. It shouldn't be that hard for my new hound to sniff out their hives and plot a course around them. If we do make contact with a swarm of Delta-Twos, then you, me, Vauban, and Riot are going to cover the others while Cortez gets them all to safety. I've fought the fucking Beedrill before, I know how to handle a swarm. I'll have Cortez torch a section of Viridian before he departs. You and I are going to stay fucking close to those flames, while Riot and Vauban mop up. Beedrill like the light, but fire don't agree with them. They'll throw themselves right into the flames and fucking burn themselves to death. You and I may get burned a little too, but it will feel a whole hell of a lot better then getting fucking killed." I laid out the contingency for him and the Squad gathered behind him. Carlos let his breath out in a loud sigh.
"...Did the Vets teach you that?" Carlos asked, the first tinge of hope I'd heard from my Squad yet inflected in his voice. I smirked at Carlos and every Squad member beyond him.
"They taught me a whole hell of a lot more than that. For fuck's sake, Carlos… I had to kill a fucking Nidoking wearing only my Beret and equipped with only a BAMF. No Vauban allowed. That was my graduation from Spec. Ops. Have some fucking faith in the Bastard, would you?" I wound that smirk down into scowl of disgust. Everybody's eyes had gone wide.
"...You killed a Delta-Three with only a knife and a Beret?" Pete was all googly eyed in his staring.
"That is the final requirement for completing Spec. Ops training. Yes, I can kill a Delta-Three with only a knife in one-on-one combat. Viridian doesn't have anything above a Delta-Three. You can all breath easy now." I shook my head in exasperation. This lot didn't even review the requirements for Spec. Ops training. No wonder why they were so damn scared.
"Of course, the ones I'm worried about are the Nidorino. Those bastards are hunting for poon in Packs right now. I do not want to return what is left of Brenda to her better half in a bucket. So Carlos, you and I have to talk strategy on the Nidorino. They sniff us out, and they'll be coming for us." It was probably not the most comforting thing for me to say in front of my nervous Squad, but they needed to know. I needed them to be prepared for the eventuality of a total scrapping.
"Everyone of you will have to contribute to the fight if we do come across the Nidorino. Remember, you have mon not only for assistance in your specialized duties, but also to protect your asses. That said, every one of you will draw knives and move to engage the Pack. We need to work together as a unit, or we'll die together as a unit. Are we clear, Rangers?" I asked, the sound of command killing every other tone in my voice.
"...I wanna go home…" Brenda started crying on the spot. My voice found a new level of loud, just for Brenda.
"DRY YOUR FUCKING EYES, RANGER! HOME IS NOT AN OPTION! IF ANY OF YOU WALKOUTS HAD CONSIDERED WHAT THE RANGER'S OATH MEANT WHEN YOU FIRST MADE THE VOW, WOULD YOU STILL BE HERE?!" I was screaming it right in Brenda's face. My whole Squad was gonna fall apart at this rate. It was my duty to keep that from happening.
Brenda was only crying louder. I sighed quite loudly myself.
"Carlos, take point. Lance Corporal Eckleson and I are going to have a little talk in the back, nice and private like." I growled to my unit.
"Keep them in formation, Carlos…" I warned my second in Command as he moved to execute my orders.
"Bren, you are back here with me." I waited until the rest of Echo Squad had moved on a bit, before taking my stride next to Brenda.
"Listen to me, kid... It is high time that you grow up. You are a Ranger. Now I know, even better than you, I might add; how scary death is. I know a lot more about death than you, Bren. Do you see me up there, crying about the possibility of myself dying?" My voice alternated between a harsh whisper and a soft reassurance. Brenda was struggling to get herself under control.
"...But you know what you're doing-"
"No. I do not. It would be reckless and vain for any soldier to assume that. I have absolute confidence in my abilities, not a conviction that they are going keep me safe. That said, I cannot afford to doubt. Not for one second. I have to keep my head on for my Squad. I don't want you, Carlos, Pete, Erin, or even fucking Amber dying on me. Hell if comes down to it, and I have to make a call, Amber is the first on the list-" That made Brenda chuckle a bit.
"-But I can only keep my head on for my Squad, Bren. I need you to keep yours on for me and for them, okay?" I was going totally soft on her. I would have to wait until shock left Brenda with no alternative. Live or die. Brenda would have to make that choice, and I would push her into making the right one, but she would have to choose between one of them eventually.
"Okay…" Brenda swallowed her tears.
"There you are, Lance Corporal. Now get that sexy ass of yours back up in formation. Oh my God… Carlos is the only one out of formation… I'm gonna fucking kill my number two…" I worked my tired jaw and strode off to murder Carlos on point. Brenda was giggling up a storm as she followed me towards the rest of Echo Squad.
Despite my intents, I did catch myself thinking; it was a genuine pity that Brenda's cute laughter was doomed to die.
…
"And here we are, Echo. The confluence of the M-straight and sector Charlie." I stood back for a moment, and admired the heavy gate barring our way. A pair of Firewatch units stood guard on either side of the gate.
"Firewatch, radio Command. Echo is requesting passage into the Frontier, sector Charlie." I barked to one of the Walkouts standing at attention. While the Firewatch Walkout carried out his duties, I turned around to brief my unit.
"Okay, Echo. This is it. We cross through that Gate, and we won't see another wall until we make Frontier Charlie. There are no Panic Buttons along the way, and if we have to radio for reinforcements, we're gonna be hunkering down for the long wait." My Squad was collectively trembling at the knees.
"Do not make me call in the Aviation Units, Echo. I do not want to end up sitting in the mud waiting for air-support to bail us out. Now the first five-hundred meters should be a breeze, but everything after that is gonna be a nightmare. It is eighteen klicks from our current position to Frontier Charlie. We will cover those eighteen klicks well before the fall of day. We will be proceeding with absolute silence, and complete discretion. And we will not be heading as the Murkrow flies. We are going to have to circumnavigate rough terrain and hostile forces. So I want you all to meet someone very special, because he is going to be the one who'll get us to Frontier Charlie safely." I lifted one of my three pokeballs from my belt.
"Cortez, report." I called out my new hound in flash of white light. My unit's eyes widened even more when they saw my new dog.
"Holy fuck-" Carlos was staggered by the size of that scar.
"This here is Cortez, newly transferred from the Fuschia Military base. He has seen as much action as me, and he is every bit as qualified as me. He is a Hunter-Killer Classification, but he also dual roles as a Pathfinder. High Command could not have given us a more reliable hound. He cannot only sniff out the threats, but Cortez can engage to kill, or plot a course to avoid hostile confrontations. He is our Golden Boy, our compass, our map, our radar, our front line, and our tinder starter. This hound has more accolades than any of you do. I expect nothing but respect for Cortez, because unlike you five… he earned it. And you can tell that just by looking at him." Cortez was absolutely still and silent throughout his introduction. There was something regal about Cortez, yet there wasn't a haughty bone in his body. Cortez just looked at the five Walkouts with those calm, reassuring, mismatched eyes of his.
"Pete, I want Duster out now. That little electric mouse is the quietest thing this unit has other than my own Cortez, and I want that Pikachu on rear guard. Amber, you are right behind Pete and Duster, and keep a close eye on that rodent. He starts acting up, I'm gonna need you to tap Pete's shoulder, and Pete, you tap Erin's. Pass that tap along, Erin. That mouse is no Cortez, but I'll take whatever forewarning the yellow fuck gives us. Brenda is going to be right behind me and Carlos. Erin and Pete, you're on flank. Keep Brenda squeezed nice and tight between you two. I'm not gonna risk losing Echo's medic on day one. Keep your eyes open, and do not shout out alerts. Use the shoulder tap. We will neutralize any hostile contacts as quietly as possible. Stay in formation, follow me and my dog, and trust Carlos and me to handle any minor threats we come across. We will make Frontier Charlie, Echo. I will not allow you Walkouts to die on the first day of my command." I gave them my oath, and a certain degree of their trepidation diminished.
"Has Command granted Echo clearance yet?" I turned around to the Firewatch units standing at attention.
"Command is awaiting Echo Commander's request." The unit reported. I pulled my radio against my chin.
"This is Echo Commander Bastard to Command, we are requesting clearance into sector Charlie, awaiting your approval. Over."
"This is Command to Echo Commander, you are cleared for passage into sector Charlie. Proceed with all haste to Frontier Charlie. Godspeed, Echo. Over."
"We'll take that Godspeed Command, this is Echo Commander Bastard signing off, over and out." I closed the line. The two Firewatch units punched in a code to snap the locks. Command entered their code from their end. The gate popped loose. Both of the Firewatch units pried the door open, before taking positions on either end of the open gate. Raising their salutes, Firewatch bade Echo through the breach.
"Let's get rolling, Echo. Cortez, you have the honor of pole. Ten meters ahead. Get us there safely." I pulled my unit together into a tight knit formation, and I marched them through the breach. We walked into a world that man had lost an eon ago. A world dominated by monsters. A world where nightmares lived. Our world. Echo's world.
The gate closed behind us, and I knew that my Squad was looking back at it in despair and hopelessness. But my eyes were ahead. This was my world. This was my unit. And we were going to carve our home into this world.
…
"Bastard?" Carlos spoke the first word since Echo had entered sector Charlie. We were only three klicks away from Frontier Charlie, and I was none too happy with the breach of silence.
"What is it Corporal?" My voice was low and deadly. Carlos swallowed hard, but something was scaring him even more than me.
"Should I- Should I get Riot out? I mean we're almost there, and I really don't wanna get caught with my pants down in the final stretch-" Carlos was beginning to cry in panic. I tapped him firmly on the cheek.
"Keep your head on, Carlos. For God's sake, we're are almost there. We are well ahead of schedule, and we haven't even needed to enter alert once on this trek. Have some faith in Cortez, this dog is better than even I thought." I shook my head in disbelief. Cortez had found us a wicked fast and safe route. I couldn't wait to call Command early, and tell them that we'd made it to Frontier Charlie without a single hitch.
"...But if I had Riot out-" My hand covered Carlos's mouth in a motion that should have been punctuated by a thunderclap.
"Listen to me, Carlos. We cannot afford to have that big ass out of his ball. Your Siege Class would only make a shit load of noise. Now we've only avoided confrontation this far by keeping stealthy. Do not let Riot out. He'd only endanger us. Save Riot for the fight. He is not a security blanket." I removed my hand. Echo was watching the exchange, worried.
"Erin. What is our current location?" I turned to our Navigation specialist. Erin hadn't said a word since we left the Yard. He could only manage to speak now, after clearing the squeak out of his throat.
"We are less than three klicks east from Frontier Charlie. Currently eighteen klicks north-west from Prime Outpost." Erin reported, after checking our heading on his Tact. Pad. I nodded with a smile.
"You five wouldn't believe me if I told you this… but we are about to set a new record for a Terran-Squad foray into Frontier Charlie. We are currently twenty-six minutes ahead of the previous record. Now stop talking, and start making history, Rangers." Everybody exchanged a glance. While I'm sure that breaking records was a minor concern compared to survival, it nonetheless served as a morale booster. Too bad it wasn't true…
"Cortez." My hound was still waiting for us to cut the noise and make up those ten meters.
"Keep it up, and I'll let you sodomize Amber's Sandshrew when we get to Frontier Charlie." Cortez was simply left unamused, but my Squad wasn't. I heard nervous giggling behind me. Except for Amber, who was still too afraid to say anything but gag.
"Press on, Echo. We're almost home."
I couldn't believe that Echo had actually crossed eighteen klicks of Frontier without a single incident, when the moss-covered walls of Frontier Charlie came into view. This deep Frontier bunker had been abandoned twenty-three years ago, and the only Rangers to have seen it since were the Aviation units from the airborne shoulders of their mounts. The Rangers knew that the structure still stood, but it was Echo's honor to crack open the tomb. A steel gate, covered in age and heavily fortified, barred the way into the inner compound.
"Amber, you're up. Dope the console with some of those power cells." I whispered to our Field-Tech. When Frontier Charlie had been abandoned twenty-three years ago, all power sources had been stowed within the Bunker itself, or removed and relocated off-site. It was a common tactic utilized in areas populated by Electric-Type mon. Pikachus were one of the indigenous species of mon in Viridian, and the aggravating rodents had a reputation for chewing into anything packing an electrical charge. In order to save the circuitry from the Pikachu, all the juice fueling the console had to be quelled before abandonment.
After a jaw grinding five minute wait, Amber got the gate's console up and running. Frontier Charlie may have been ancient before it was abandoned, but it was built out of tech that favored longevity and simplicity over the bleeding-edge security devices of the day. Those bleeding-edge devices would have failed after a few years of neglect. Frontier Charlie's old and crude tech woke up as if it had only gone to sleep yesterday.
"Move aside, Amber. It's gonna want a clearance code." I pushed Amber out of the way, then I unlocked and popped the safety cover off of the console's keypad. All of Echo was shaking with anticipation. These walls meant protection, and everybody was aching for some protection.
Where does the sun rise and set, where does the land begin and end? Frontier Charlie asked me. I smiled, and punched in the access key.
A Mari Usque Ad Mare.
'...'
Access Granted. Welcome home, Rangers. The gate popped, and the ancient hinges made an atrocious racket as the way opened up to us. I rallied every member of Echo past the threshold, before pulling the gate shut behind us.
We were in.
"Amber, get the bolt cutters. We gotta snap a chain before we can even get access to the bunker's security console." I order our Field-Tech over towards the the bunker's outer door. Frontier Charlie wasn't much to look at from the inside of the walls. The inner compound was basically a pentagon of five tall concrete walls with a single steel gate, and a half buried circular concrete complex near the rear of the inner sanctum. Weathered fortifications still offered their strength to the walls, and overgrowth dominated everything in between. Old telecom antennas and dishes were clustered together in the south-eastern corner, all of them begging for some dire repairs. The heavy mesh above us was covered in nature's refuse, and several areas had buckled and split. It was part of Echo's mission to reinstate Frontier Charlie, and turn this ragged station into a proper Ranger Outpost.
Amber snapped the chain binding the ancient steel cellar doors shut. I tried the handle. That heavy door didn't even budge with my full strength tugging on it.
"Shit, hinges are probably rusted… Carlos, get Riot out here." I ordered. I was still whispering, even though we were inside Frontier Charlie's walls. Carlos released his Siege Class Rhyhorn; Call sign: Riot.
"Good to see you again, Riot." I slapped the Rhyhorn on the brow. Riot just grumbled at me. While Carlos had been out on leave, Riot and all the other Siege Class mon had gone into rotation amongst the active Rangers, in order to keep our fighting mon in peak shape and at the battle ready. I had served with Riot countless times in the S-ranked missions, sometimes he was under my command, other times Riot was under a Veteran's authority. Either way, that Rhyhorn knew me, probably even better than he knew Carlos.
I picked up the recently cut chain, and wrapped one end around the bunker's outer door handle.
"Riot, I'm binding this chain around your horn. When I give the order, you give it a small pull. Riot... you have the honors of popping this vintage bunker's cork." I approached Riot with a heft of chain, and tied it around his horn. Stepping back and dusting the rust off of my hands, I gave Riot the room he needed.
"Ready, Riot?"
Grumble. Snorted Riot.
"Give it a tug." Riot lifted his head about half a meter. That was all it took to tighten up the slack in the chain and crack the doors open. Fucking Rhyhorns, man. They are the Ranger's Siege beasts for a reason.
"Well done, Riot. Well done." I chuckled. Carlos made to put Riot back into his ball, but I waved it away.
"No way, Carlos. This is history. Echo, release your mon. We are all going into the bunker together. We are all a part of this history. -Well, except for Darwin, but I ain't waiting for him to flop his fat ass down there." I made a little jab at my own Magikarp, which helped ease the tension. Everybody released their mon into the field, filling Frontier Charlie with the first regiment her walls had held in over twenty years.
Riot, Duster, and Cortez were already deployed, and Vauban joined them before any other mon.
Butters, Brenda's Medical-Assistant Aipom.
Vespucci, Erin's Aerial-Reconnaissance Spearow.
Whiskers, Amber's dildo of a Sandshrew.
I might have felt a twinge of disgust when seeing the Aipom, but I put my prejudice aside, and lifted my radio to my chin; after setting the channel to an open broadcast.
"Hailing all Rangers, this is Echo Squad Commander Zane Bastard. I'm shouting out to the all of the Corps stationed in Viridian to inform you of Echo Squad's acquisition of Frontier Charlie. These are the voices of Echo Squad, hear our finest Walkouts roar-" I passed the radio to a surprised Carlos.
"Uh- This is Corporal Garcia, of the Ranger's Second-Infantry-Battalion. We're staring down into the mouth of Frontier Charlie as we speak-" Carlos looked at me, completely lost for words. I passed the radio onto Erin.
"This is Private Erin Stilts of Echo Squad. We're here. We made it. We made it one piece-" I passed the radio onto Brenda, before Erin's quivering hyperbole drove every Veteran insane.
"We did it! Oh-! I mean- Th-This is Lance Corporal Brenda Eckleson, Medic of Echo Squad. We did it, Colonel! We're here-" I moved the radio over to our Communications Jockey, expecting Pete to give the Rangers a show.
He did not disappoint me.
"This is Private Peter Samuels of Echo! We are balls deep in the Frontier setting up for the long haul! Frontier Charlie will be a monument to all the Ranger's exploits! A haven for all those who dare dream! A-"
"That's enough, Private." I chuckled into the radio as I pulled it away from him.
"Now I wasn't going to do this- But I thought that every Ranger in Viridian should be aware of Echo's greatest sacrifice for the Ranger's cause. Because of Echo, you will now know a peace that has not been known in Viridian for countless years. Because of Echo, you can all sleep easy, knowing that the greatest threat to our Corps has been silenced. No, I'm not talking about our new sanctuary out in the deep. I am not referring to this soon-to-be rekindled Bastion connecting the Frontier to all of you. I am of course, referring to Echo's greatest sacrifice for all you Vets and Walkouts alike… I give you Rangers… The one… The only…" I was grinning like my namesake when I spoke these next words.
"Warrant Officer Amber Hail!" I passed the radio onto Echo Squad's most infamous member.
"Say hello… Amber." I was grinning with every evil intent displayed on my face. Amber swallowed and struggled to find her voice.
"Th-this- This is-" I yanked the radio away from her.
"And that is all you will hear of Warrant Officer Amber Hail's voice for six months. Every other member of Echo deserves the highest honors for making this sacrifice towards preserving your sanity. That is every head of Echo accounted for, Command. Tell the Colonel that we will make him proud. This is Echo's Commanding Officer, Zane Bastard, calling to you all from the inner compound of Frontier Charlie. Over and out." I killed the feed, but left the Radio open to hails. There was a mess of them incoming. Rangers from every corner of Viridian were cheering and whooping for Echo Squad. Me and my Squad stood there in Frontier Charlie's compound, basking in the revelry. Then a priority hail on all channels cut the noise short.
"This is Colonel Isaac Howes of Viridian Prime Outpost. Well done, Echo. Bastard, get them situated. You have all done your Colonel proud. We expect Frontier Charlie to take lead in the Evening Chorus. Remember this day, Rangers. This is the first day in twenty-three years that Frontier Charlie has called out to us with a voice. There are Rangers out in deep again. We are reclaiming what is ours. Give the mon hell, Echo. Colonel Isaac Howes, over and out." The Colonel himself gave Echo his recognition. The Colonel's address was followed by a new wave of cheers coming through on my radio.
"That is for us, Echo… Now tell me… If you dare… Tell me that it isn't worth it." I beamed at every member of my unit. There were tears in Carlos's eyes as well as Brenda's. Nobody could speak. All of Echo was feeling completely overwhelmed.
"Amber, boot up the security console. Passphrase is, 'A Mari Usque Ad Mare.' We've got lots of work ahead of us, Rangers. Let's get started." I followed my command up with a reminder of our mission.
"Cortez, when we get down there, your ass is on R&R. You fucking earned it, dog. I've never seen a Pathfinder half as good as you." I smiled at my weary hound, but Cortez seemed as stoic as ever.
"Security console online, Bastard. Frontier Charlie is telling us to come in." Amber reported, and her voice carried absolute relief. All of Echo moved forward in a rush, but I halted them with a raised arm.
"Hold up." I ordered. Every member froze, and a look of trepidation began to infect their collective visages. I smiled, and turned to Cortez.
"Cortez got us here in one piece. Cortez led us through eighteen klicks of Frontier without a single alert being called. Just as he led us here, Cortez is going to lead the rest of Echo into Frontier Charlie." I stood aside and put Cortez in the spotlight. For the first time since I'd met him, Cortez faltered. I smiled warmly at my dog.
"The honor is yours, Cortez." I raised a salute to my own hound, and all of Echo raised theirs with me. Cortez began to quiver. A desperate look shone in his eyes, before he managed to conquer it.
There is something deep to Cortez. There is something deep down to my dog... And I am going to dig it up.
Cortez straightened himself out, before turning to me and sitting down. That was our signal. Cortez had returned Echo's salute.
"Get going, dog. Time's a wastin." I barked. Cortez stood back up, and took his slow steps down into the bunker, with me right on his heels, and Echo Squad at our shadow.
…
"Wow." I chuckled as soon as the old lights flickered on. The bunker's inner door sealed behind us, and all of Echo got the first look at our new home. The ceremony was over. Only Cortez remained out of his pokeball.
"I knew that it was gonna be a shithole… but damn…" I snorted as I kicked up an inch of dust from the floor. A narrow hallway, just wide enough for four abreast, led down into the bunker. The walls were bare concrete, and the light fixtures were exposed bulbs and cables. Frontier Charlie felt more like a catacomb than an Outpost.
"I hope she looks prettier further on." I started walking down that hallway. A couple of doorways partitioned the walls, leading into tiny chambers. Plaques above the doorframes indicated their purposes.
"Utility, Dry Storage, Armory, Forward Observation, Ordnance…" I stopped dead when I saw that last plaque. I almost kicked down the door to the Ordnance locker in my haste to get in there.
"Damn it." The cupboard was bare. Not a single toy of destruction greeted me when I opened that door. I could hear all of Echo breathing a sigh of relief. Part of my scary reputation was established in accordance to my role as a Sapper. Viridian would be relegating the horror stories of the Fucking Bastard's explosive exploits for decades to come.
"Armory is mostly stocked. Dry Storage has coats on pegs!" Erin reported.
"Standard procedure… They must have disposed of all the Ordnance when they bailed it out of here." I grumbled.
"Holy crap! There's an ashtray with half a cigarette left in it!" Carlos's voice hollered from Forward Observation.
"Dude, this desk still has pens and requisition sheets in it! This place looks like it was sealed yesterday! Well, I mean... apart from all the dust..." Carlos sounded awed. I turned to my Squad with a disgusted look on my face.
"Don't tell me you Walkouts have never heard the story behind Frontier Charlie?" I was growling now. Every head turned to me, looks of shock worn open and plainly. I sighed in exasperation.
"Frontier Charlie is the deepest fortified Outpost the Rangers have in the Viridian Frontier. Twenty-three years back, there was a freak occurrence regarding an outbreak of Wheezing. A group of Koffing found a crack in an old Pre-Brink hazardous waste storage facility. A big facility. Detaining some mighty scary ink. You all should know what happens when the Pollutants find Pre-Brink waste, and the dirtier the waste, the bigger the bloom. The Koffing started multiplying and evolving at a scale not seen since the Brink Collapse itself, and Viridian was overrun by the smog-breathers of death." I paused to gauge my audience. My Rangers were hanging onto every word.
"Command ordered a Total Recall, and requested aid from every other Ranger Division in both the Kanto and Johto regions. Total Recall. Drop everything and converge at Prime Outpost. Everybody drop everything and retreat… except for Frontier Charlie." All of Echo had stopped breathing. I was just beginning to realize the morbid irony in our being here.
"Frontier Charlie was the only Outpost not affected by the Total Recall. They needed more time to prepare, because Colonel Howes had a very important mission for the Rangers stationed here. You see, that waste facility? It's only four klicks west from our current position." I breathed deeply, and released all that wind in a sigh.
"The last Squad to possess the designation 'Echo...' They made their last stand outside of these walls." Every throat moved with a swallow.
"It was a suicide mission, and all of Echo knew it. But they were the only ones in a position to stop the calamity from spreading. Most of Echo perished at Frontier Charlie's outer perimeter. The Rangers never even found their bodies… but the survivors of Echo pressed on. The last member of Echo died sealing that Pre-Brink waste facility. And after the hit the Rangers took defending Viridian from the Wheezing… Colonel Howes didn't have enough men left to warrant a garrison at Frontier Charlie. So he sealed it up, and left every unnecessary thing behind, exactly as it was. To serve as a memento to the Rangers who died to save Viridian. Frontier Charlie. We are standing in a hall of ghosts, Echo… The ghosts of our predecessors…" I could feel a chill on my own neck as I relayed the tale. Everyone had gone dead silent. The bunker felt like a proper tomb now.
"They never found the bodies?" Brenda spoke first. I just chuckled.
"Bren, I'm sure that there was nothing left of their bodies to bury. Wheezing are fucking nasty, and those fucked up mon probably liquified the remains. You don't have to worry about a skeleton crawling into bed with you-" Brenda involuntarily shuddered. That got me and the rest Echo laughing.
"It's not funny…" Brenda moaned, holding herself fearfully.
"Yes it is, Bren. We got a world of human-hunting, man-eating monsters just one-hundred meters beyond that door, and you're worried about Ghosts? Come on, Brenda… We aren't stationed in Lavender Town."
"Thank God…" Carlos shuddered. The new train of conversation sparked a curiosity in some of our newest Rangers.
"Is it true that Lavender Town plays host to Blackhat Team Three's HQ just because of Memorial Tower?" Erin asked. I got another chuckle out of that.
"Blackhat Team Three is the Ghost-Hunting Division, Erin. Why do you think that they're stationed in Lavender Town?" I mocked.
"Yeah, count your lucky stars, Rangers. I'll take the Beedrill and the Nidoking over the Gengar and the Banettes any day. Ghosts will fuck you up in ways far worse than any other mon out there… -And they'll do it real slowly..." I gave my Squad the most sinister ghostly grin to accompany that revelation. But even so, not everyone was grateful with our current station.
"...What if Echo Squad's Ghosts are still here?" Brenda whispered. I felt ice running down my back and legs despite myself. Everybody else looked at Brenda like she had just invited Bad-Juju into Frontier Charlie. I needed to settle this now.
"I'm gonna be straight with you, Bren. There is no evidence whatsoever that supports the superstition of man becoming… something else after death. I do not believe for one second that the Ghosts were once human. There is nothing human in the Ghosts. There is absolutely nothing natural about them. So I stand by what I said before. You're more than likely to wake up with Pete crawling into bed with you, than you are with a skeleton." I put on my best smirk.
"Eww…" Brenda looked at poor little Pete in disgust. The following laughter shook the heebie-jeebies away.
"Come on Echo, first things first. I want a thorough once over of Frontier Charlie, just to make sure that all of the old tech is still functional." I pressed on further into the bunker, with my Squad in pursuit.
…
We came into the center compound, and Frontier Charlie's haunting air greeted us in the Ready Room. The longtable still had dirty plates and mugs on it, and reports detailing the events of twenty-three years ago. One of the chairs at the longtable was ajar and facing us when we entered. I almost expected a Ranger's shade to be sitting on that chair when Echo stepped into the Ready Room. Something below my feet caught my eye. I knelt down, and dusted the floor off. A ruddy discoloration was hidden beneath the soil. I froze when I uncovered what was concealed there.
A trail of bloody boot prints, dried to this floor twenty-three years ago.
"Okay, Carlos! You and Erin are on swab detail. I want this entire bunker looking spiffy. Brenda, setup Sickbay. I want it sterile, and I want all the old disposable resources thrown away. Do not use a tongue depressor that is older than you are. Amber, Pete! I want Pete down in the Comm room fiddling with the dials, and Amber, you're outside digging through the guts of Frontier Charlie's old Comm relay. I want a radio fix with Command, and I want it fast. Write up any parts that need to be replaced on the relay, Field-Tech. I will add them to my manifest and send Command the requisition." I barked out the first set of orders these halls had heard since before my own birth. All of Echo started scrabbling to abide by my decree.
Well… All of Echo, except-
"Bastard?" I rolled my jaw and eyes as turned around to face my nemesis.
"What is it, Field-Tech?" I grumbled over Amber's fretting.
"Am I going out there alone?" Amber was fiddling with her hands. My eyes fell on her nervous behavior with heavy notes of disdain.
"No, you are permitted to bring Whiskers with you." I stated the obvious. Amber shuddered.
"Is there a problem, Field-Tech?" I growled. Amber swallowed.
"It's just that… There are some pretty big holes in the mesh… I don't want to get stung by any Beedrill that manage to squeeze through…" Amber was wringing her hands now.
"Fair enough. I'll give you some advice then." I smiled my evil smile.
"Stay quiet, keep Whiskers on lookout, work fast and properly… And I'll let you sleep inside tonight." Carlos, Erin, and Pete all froze. They were looking at me with a new sense of dread. Amber was tearing up. The Fucking Bastard faced all of them with his cold-ass demeanor.
"I believe that I just gave each and every one of you a duty, Echo. Now I expect-" Something darted past my legs, whipping my boot laces into a tizzy.
"BUTTERS!" I roared that stupid monkey's name at the top of my range.
"-Butters, get back here!" Brenda came charging out of Sickbay, looking for her mon. She was gonna find a lot more than that from me.
"Brenda, get this piece of shit monkey out of my Ready Room. Now." I growled. Brenda quickly made to collect the disobedient Butters, who was poking a napping Cortez in the the scar.
"Butters, come on. Let's get-" Brenda was using kiddy-talk to speak to her mon, and I found myself growing livid.
"Butters. Front and center. Right. Fucking. Now." My hate filled voice was in full pitch. Butters had stirred Cortez from his well-earned sleep. I knew that the dog was watching me give orders before Butters had shown up, but he had closed his eyes when the monkey had entered the Ready Room. Butters looked up at me with a stupid smile on his face, completely ignoring my order. I froze up tight. I couldn't believe it. Butters was not responding to my command. This service mon had forgotten its discipline.
"Brenda… How have you been caring for your mon?" I rounded on Brenda with a rather suspicious and dangerous voice simmering in the air. Brenda swallowed.
"He's just a Medical-Assistant… He doesn't need-" My open palm silenced Brenda's snivelling with a loud crack. All of Echo froze. Even Butters locked up when I struck his Commanding Officer.
"Let me get this straight… You let your service mon soften up?" I glared into Brenda's watering eyes. Her face was turning red around the swelling white handprint that I'd left her with.
"Oh no… I see it now." My face was as animated as my voice. Livid as fuck.
"You actually pandered to your little monkey, didn't you?" I hissed, spit flying from my clenched teeth. Brenda began to shake and cry.
"Butters. Get on my position, -RIGHT FUCKING NOW!" I ordered that shit-fucked monkey to my toes. A very nervous Butters sat his ass down before Echo's Commanding Officer. I glared down at the Aipom, displaying every unrestrained ounce of hatred that I possessed for mon and monkey-mon alike.
"Watch, Brenda. This is how Rangers train their service mon." I whispered to my medic. Then I fell on Butters, both fists flying. That monkey squealed as I beat his head into the concrete. He even tried to defend himself. Too bad for his spindly forearms, they couldn't resist my fury. When I was done making finger paint out of Butter's face, I flogged the fuck out of his torso and arms. I was going further than I needed too, but had to set the standards. When Butters was reduced to a wheezing mound of blood and bruises, I lifted myself off of the Ready Room's dirty floor, and kicked Butter's crotch for good measure. The monkey was making an unnatural sound. A sound that every living creature had the capacity to replicate. A moan that was only ever uttered in mindless agony and total despair. Nobody in that room had ever heard that sound before. Nobody, but me.
"You get this piece of shit monkey in your Sickbay, Lance Corporal, and he will stay in your Sickbay for the entirety of our sixth months stationed at Frontier Charlie. He is not to leave Sickbay, unless first confined in his pokeball. You will keep him in Sickbay, Lance Corporal… Or I will put him there…" Brenda was crying up a river, both hands covering her gasping mouth. Amber had tears running down both of her cheeks; and even Carlos, Pete, and Erin were red eyed and pale.
I glowered at everyone of them.
"YOU HAVE YOUR ORDERS, ECHO! NOW CARRY THEM OUT!" I roared. My Squad jumped, but their discipline wasn't sharp enough to overcome the pity and the shock. They couldn't remove themselves from this scene. My Walkouts were far from being Rangers yet. I had a long way to go with them.
"Echo… If I have to repeat-" My deadly intonation was interrupted as Cortez pushed his way between me and Brenda. I looked down at my dog in shock. Cortez pushed Brenda back up with the rest of Echo, before he turned around and put those two calm eyes on me. Cortez, standing between me, and my unit.
"What is the meaning of this, Cortez?" I growled. Cortez lifted his right paw, and held it steady for two seconds, before dropping it.
That's Pathfinder for, 'Negative.'
"Is there a problem, Cortez?" I growled at my dog. Cortez swelled and silently sighed, before he sat down on his haunches, facing me.
Pathfinder for, 'That way.'
I locked up. I couldn't believe it. Cortez had turned on me, his Commanding Officer. There was no discipline left in my unit. Day one, and I was already looking at a mutiny.
"Oh, you gone and fucked up now, dog…" I breathed out a whisper of dire intentions and utter disbelief. Cortez was unshaken.
"Cortez, you are dismissed." I lifted his pokeball, and recalled Cortez into its confines with a beam of red light.
"Rangers…" I addressed my paralysed unit with a calm voice.
"You have your orders. I suggest that you follow them to the letter, or you will all be sleeping outside tonight. Dismissed." Everybody moved now. Amber fucking ran for the bunker's exit, while Carlos and Erin hastily staggered off towards the Utilities room for a bucket and a mop. Pete dashed off towards the Comm Room, and a sobbing Brenda knelt down to scoop up her broken Butters.
Brenda lifted Butters off of the floor, cradling that sick little monkey like her own child. Then I saw Butters reaching out for Brenda, just to wipe away her tears, and my heart jumped into my throat.
Vauban…
I tore that monkey out of Brenda's arms with a violent jerk, and slammed Butter's ass down onto the concrete floor. Brenda looked at me, completely shattered. I gritted my teeth thoroughly before I spoke.
"On your feet, Butters." The monkey twitched, but after a second, he complied to my command. Even after Brenda's meddling affections, Butters could still remember that he was a service mon.
"Now Brenda… You walk his ass back to Sickbay. I don't ever want to see that again." My voice was so low that I had to strain my larynx to be heard. Brenda straightened out, facing her Commanding Officer with a stiff and steady stance.
"Butters." Brenda's voice intoned a command. That panting monkey's hollow eyes went dead. Brenda's face began to quiver, as a fresh batch of tears pooled in her eyes.
"To the Sickbay." Brenda sobbed, cracking.
I watched the two of them go, Brenda shaking and Butters limping. Separate, but one unit. A Ranger, and a Ranger's mon. I waited until they had both faded away down the Sickbay corridor, and then I turned on my own heel, and stalked off to the Commander's Quarters.
…
I threw open the door to my office and private quarters. I stomped right in and slammed the door behind me. Everything within was covered in sheets. It must have been the only room in entire facility to have received the preservation treatment.
I barely noticed.
"Cortez, report." I lifted my disobedient mutt's pokeball, and summoned him directly in front of me.
Cortez hadn't even fully materialized before I slugged him in his ugly fucking face.
"What the fuck are you doing, Cortez?" My voice was lethally engaged with Cortez's ears. The dog's only indication that he had even been struck was the jerk of his head when my blow landed. Cortez stared at me with that lonely purple eye, weary and seemingly unconcerned.
"I should gut your ass for what you just pulled. What the hell are you trying to tell me, Cortez?" I growled. Cortez straightened his head out, and added a green eye to his leveled stare. He looked up at me with subtle disgust. I knew why Cortez had intervened.
Cortez thought that I was in the wrong.
"You used to be the best… I get it now. The Military couldn't find a CO that you would obey, could they?" I chuckled, but my mirth was far from funny. It was degrading.
"You're going to learn something, Cortez… This ain't the Military. This isn't months of boredom and minutes of terror. This is the real fight. We are always engaged. We are always unsupported. We are always alone. This is the Ranger Corps, and you either harden up… Or you die." I hissed that warning. Cortez just sighed at me, and shook his head.
I laid his ass on the floor for it.
"Get your ugly ass up, dog. I am not finished with you." Cortez got back onto his feet, blood oozing from his snout. Still unshaken.
"Everything I just told you applies to every Ranger who serves in the Corps. Every Ranger, including those washed-out Walkouts scurrying to satisfy my command. I have to harden them up, Cortez. I have to keep them alive. Now this is your only warning. If you ever try to stage a mutiny again-" Cortez didn't let me finish. That fucking dog leapt up and bit his Commanding Officer on the hand. I threw him off, and stared in wild disbelief at the calm hound sitting before me. No way. You didn't just do that.
It took a moment for me to come to my senses, but when I did...
Cortez was getting his turn in Butters's former place. I was wailing on that dog with a furious gusto. He never cried out. He never fought back. My fists connecting with his face couldn't close those calm eyes. I was screaming in rage when I whipped out my knife. Cortez didn't even flinch as the blade was raised above my head. He just looked at me, with those all-seeing eyes of his. I froze... And I fell back. Cortez was just watching me. Cortez was just waiting for me. Just waiting for me to kill him. I took a minute's worth of deep breathes. I was shaking and sweating, pouring rank murder from every pore. I looked down to my hand, and saw Cortez's bite wound bleeding profusely.
Why didn't I just kill him?
I looked back at that beaten hound, and what I saw wasn't beaten. It was defiance, reserved and controlled defiance. Cortez was telling me with a look. Cortez was making it perfectly clear. Cortez was pulling down my every shadow of a doubt.
Cortez would rather die, than serve under me.
Why.
Didn't.
I.
Just.
Kill.
Him?
I knew why. It struck me like an epiphany right then and there. There was a reason why I didn't gut Cortez. There was a motivation behind my inaction. There was a desire of mine that needed to be fulfilled.
I desired this dog's respect.
My knife found its way into its sheath. I pulled my Spec. Ops Bandana off my right bicep, and wrapped it tight around my bleeding hand.
"On your feet, Cortez." My voice was spent, hollow. I stared off into the far corner, refusing to meet that dog's wise eyes as he slowly rose to a sitting position. I struggled to work up the nerve to face that dog again. When I finally could, my voice was choked.
"You know something, Cortez… You and I are going to come to an understanding… And you and I are going to realize that. Right now…" Cortez swallowed. I turned on a heel, and marched out of my office.
"Follow me, Cortez." I growled. That dog hauled ass to catch up.
…
"Brenda, pack yourself a field kit, and meet me in the Armory. You have eight minutes, Ranger. Get to it." I stormed into the Sickbay with that iron declaration, startling Brenda as she administered to a gauze enshrouded Butters. Then I was gone before she could even draw a breath for a question.
"Pete, ass in the yard. Eight minutes. Full battle tack, Radio Operator. Get a hustle on." I barked into the Comm room, making the scrawny Private jump out of his skin. I was out of that room before he had even turned around.
"Carlos! Erin! Drop those mops and suit up for the field. Full combat raiments. Carlos, prep your fucking Siege Class for a skirmish." I stomped right past the two nervous Walkouts in the Ready Room without pausing to glance at either one of them. Cortez was having to run to keep up with my furious march. I hauled open the Armory's door, and began to suit up in the hard kit. Carlos, Erin, Pete, and Brenda poured in behind me. They were scared shitless, but not because of my orders, or even the call to the Armory.
They were terrified of the Fucking Bastard.
I packed a second kit, and hoofed it out of the Armory while they were still strapping up. I blew the dust off of my antique body armor with a hot and heavy breath. Then I threw open the doors of the bunker, and made my way over towards Frontier Charlie's relay.
"I'm working as fast as I can-!" Amber started panicking as soon as she saw my dreadful figure approaching.
Cortez was right. This was no way for the Bastard run his outfit.
"Suit up, Warrant Officer Hail." I tossed down the battle wrap I'd prepped for her down in the Armory. Amber froze when she saw the hard kit.
"What are we doing?" Amber whimpered, noticing that I too, was wearing the combat trappings.
"We are going out into the Frontier. Suit up for a field exercise, Warrant Officer." Amber looked like she was gonna faint. But she was too afraid of me to offer any further questioning of my orders. The rest of Echo Squad was coming out of the bunker, garbed in their hard kit.
"ECHO SQUAD! FALL IN!" I roared as soon as Amber tightened up the last strap on her harness. Every member of Echo Squad formed up as quickly as they could. They were all shaking, scared beyond their wits. I took my place before them in the descending light of the sun. Cortez parked his ass next to me, and together we stood as the head of Echo.
My unit could see it now. Cortez, battered to all hell. The blood dripping from my hand and into the soil. The cool, reserved expression shared by me and my dog.
"Cortez and I had a little talk." I only started speaking after Echo had a chance to drink it all in.
"It seems that Cortez doesn't approve of my leadership skills." I informed them of the obvious. But the punchline was coming in hard.
"And I agree with him." I said it in the same displeased voice that I'd used to refer to the various Walkouts of Echo all damn day. Everybody kept their composure.
Good on you, Echo.
"So I'm going to try something different." I smirked, and a look of horror overcame my unit. You're catching on, Echo.
You're catching on…
"Rather than just trying to scare you all into understanding the reason of our being here, I am instead going to educate you. You may be scared of me, but you don't rightly fear what I fear. So to impress upon you the urgency of our commitment to one another…" My big ol' smile was making goosebumps swell in spite of the summer's heat.
"Cortez and I are going to take you five Head-hunting. We are taking down some big game, Echo, and Cortez and I are going to show you how it's done." Erin staggered. Pete keeled over and vomited. Amber finally fainted. Carlos caught her before she hit the ground, though his face was turning green. Brenda dropped her field kit from numb arms, and then fell onto her ass, clutching her head and sobbing.
"Now I know that you are all scared." I continued casually when Amber blinked herself back into consciousness.
"And you have no reason to be scared." My voice dropped to the absolute depth of my range. Brenda started sobbing louder.
"Cortez, shake her out of it." I ordered my hound to Brenda's side. Cortez complied with my command, and nudged Brenda's face out of her hands, licking her tears away.
"Everybody listening?" I asked when the sobbing had quieted. Pete was leaning on Erin, clutching his gut. Pale Carlos was standing at attention, while Amber just drooped beside him. Everytime Brenda tried to opened her mouth to sob, Cortez's rough tongue lapped at her lips, silencing her.
"You are afraid, Echo, because you have no faith in yourselves or each other." I spoke gently for the first time since uttering the Epitaph back in Prime Outpost's Yard, earlier this morning.
"And I have given you nothing to have faith in." Brenda looked up at me. All of Echo's eyes mirrored her gaze to mine.
"So now we are going to go out there and find some faith. You will learn what it means to be a Ranger. You will come to appreciate the bonds of that Brotherhood. And you will find a strength within yourselves when you find a strength in one another." I closed my speech, and straightened my form.
"Cortez, report to my side. Echo, on your feet. Battle formation. Just stay silent, and follow my lead." I turned around and marched myself and Cortez to the gate. My unit hesitated to follow me.
"You can follow my orders, Echo… Or you can find out the hard way what happens when my orders are no longer given…" Make the choice, Echo.
You have to make a choice.
There was a pause, and for a moment, I feared that Echo had made the wrong choice. Then Carlos stepped forward. Pete nearly jumped to follow him. Erin slowly lifted Brenda to her feet, and led himself and the willing Brenda to the rest of Echo waiting at the gate. Only Amber stood behind, locked in place.
"You're all gonna die…" Amber gasped when she looked at the calm unit forming under my shadow. I gave Amber the only true smile I had ever shown her. My real smile. A sad smile.
"Rangers die everyday, Amber. They die alone, more often than not. Very few of us are lucky enough to be deployed in Squads, with fellow Rangers at our backs. Very few of us are shown that mercey. So how do you want to die, Ranger?" A voice that Zane Bastard never used was revealed to those five Rangers. A part of him reached out to comfort them in this trial. Even Amber felt it. She took several steadying breaths, before running over to take her place in our formation.
"Very good, Rangers. That was the easy part. Now you all need to be ready for the hard part." Zane Bastard was still speaking in that voice, a voice silenced the very day a Beret had been placed upon his head. The voice that belonged to the boy, who would one day become the Fucking Bastard.
…
"Cortez, sniff me out a big one." I ordered my Hunter-Killer to fulfil his role. Cortez didn't waste another moment. He immediately began sniffing out the Frontier.
"Are we really going to do this, Bastard?" Carlos murmured at my shoulder. I smiled at him with the jester's smirk. The Fucking Bastard was back in the seat.
"You better believe it, Carlos. I'll show you five Greenbacks what the Vets showed me. And then I'll show you what I showed them." Cocky Bastard was inspiring his Echo with all his conceited banter. Everybody straighten up just a little bit more.
Confidence. It was what I'd been missing before.
I needed to have confidence in them.
Cortez stopped sniffing, and raised his right paw, before flicking it twice and lowering it.
Affirmative. My Hunter-Killer had found something.
"Where is it at, Cortez?" I asked. Cortez pivoted east and then pointedly sat down.
"Bingo. Ten meters ahead on pole, Cortez. Let's go bag us a Tango." Cortez stood up and put his ten meters lead down, and Echo made to follow him.
"So Erin?" I spoke at a normal volume, casually ignoring the Frontier's rules. Cortez would let me know the instant a threat was detected. For now I could entertain conversation with my unit.
"Yes, sir?" Erin asked nervously.
"Vespucci?" I asked. Erin looked at me, confused.
"Your Spearow's name is Vespucci. I take it that you're a cartographer?" I asked.
"...Yeah. How did you-?"
"Come on Erin, don't let the Beret fool you. I'm a history buff. I know who Amerigo Vespucci was." I answered.
"Not a bad name for a Spearow. Quaint, not too obvious. Much better than Marco Polo." I joked. The conversation was easing the tension. I trusted Cortez to afford us this luxury, and that trust gave my unit some peace of mind.
"Listen Erin, I got a mission for you." I was still talking in that friendly authoritative voice.
"I'm all ears, sir." Erin sounded nervous. I just started chuckling.
"Our intel on sector Charlie is as dated as our bunker. I'm putting in a requisition for an aerial-reconnaissance camera and a matching harness. I want you and Vespucci to draw up some new maps for Command. I want waterways, treelines, topography, landmarks, the whole Goddamn shooting match on paper. And I want both yours and Vespucci's signature on those maps when I turn them into Command." I informed our Navigations specialist. I don't think that Erin could have been anymore delighted by my request. It was a good and timely place to wrap it up. Cortez was giving us a warning.
Cortez's tail lifted, and the hound froze with his right front paw raised. Echo immediately cut the chatter.
We were close. To close to be talking.
"Okay Cortez, take it slow. Fall back to me, and lead us there." I whispered the order to my dog, and Cortez fell back to my side.
"Alright, Carlos. Get your finger near Riot's trigger. If shit hits us before we hit them, introduce them to your Siege Class." I whispered. Carlos swallowed and shifted his gear, so that Riot's pokeball was easily obtainable.
"Echo, draw your knives. Everybody be silent, alert, and ready." I spoke quietly, my voice firm. I heard the sound of five other knives being drawn as I drew mine.
"Lead on, Cortez, take us to the beast." I said to the hound at my side.
Cortez found us a winner, alright. I couldn't have hoped for a better mark in a more favorable situation.
"Snoozing Nidoqueen. Just fit for bursting." I grinned to Carlos. He was trembling something fierce. It probably had something to do with his proximity to a Delta-Three. The Nidoqueen was all of twenty meters away, napping her pregnant ass in a sunlit glade.
"Good job, Cortez. We have the field. Now let's make a play. Carlos-" I whispered.
"What?"
"When you see my signal, release Riot." I held my knife above my head, and flicked the blade twice.
"That's our signal. Tell Riot to charge my ass." Carlos balked.
"Charge you-?"
"Carlos, trust me, Riot and I have done this before. I want you to stay back here with the rest of Echo, and cover them if something goes wrong. Do you understand me, Number two?" I whispered urgently, trying to get Carlos to ground himself despite my peculiar request.
"Yes, sir." Carlos answered.
"Good. Now the rest of you... You are to watch my every move. I'm gonna solo this one, so that you understand how this form of engagement works. Cortez-" My dog looked up at me.
"Circle around the bitch. You have forty-five seconds to get into position. When you see my knife waving in the bushes over here, engage the Tango. Shake her up, get her attention off of me. You are to distract, Cortez. Do not get hurt fighting something bigger than you are." I laid it out for my hound. Cortez raised his right paw, and gave me the affirmative signal.
"Okay, Cortez get into position. Carlos, standby with Riot. Go." Cortez slunk off into the shrubs, staying well and true to my request for discretion in his advance.
"Erin, start a silent countdown. Give me the signal when you reach forty-five." Erin immediately began ticking his head in time with his count. I was keeping my own, but I needed my Rangers involved in this.
"Come on Cortez. Forty-five seconds should be plenty of time to get into position." I was halfway down my count. Every member of Echo was silently counting with me. I could see them tapping their fingers on the dirt in time with the T-minus.
Good. My Echo had found it.
Erin gave me the thumbs up, and I waved my knife from above our cover. A sharp bark answered it. Cortez was starting his distraction. I had to give it some time. The Nidoqueen needed to commit to the pooch attacking her. I peered out through the bushes and saw the bitch getting onto her feet. She was a pretty impressive Nidoqueen. More than two meters tall. Round from a belly load of baby Nidos. Well fed and healthy.
A good kill.
She was none too happy about being woken up by the tiny Growlithe snapping at her knees. The Nidoqueen let out a bellow. Her warning meant that Cortez better get the fuck out of town before she started a business on his ass. But Cortez was a Ranger, and we don't take to idle threats. Cortez shot a fucking gout of flames into her face, and that flare was even bigger than the dog spitting it.
Oh yeah, Cortez. That'll piss her the fuck off.
The Nidoqueen was invested now. This little pooch was gonna die. No woman likes having their facial hairs set aflame, and this Nidoqueen was no exception. She got real quiet and stomped her feet. She was gonna start charging soon.
That was my que.
I left the cover of the bushes, knife lowered at my side. Cortez saw me coming, and hit the extra aggressive switch. He was full on attacking the bitch, drawing her ire onto him and him alone. I had to cover at least ten meters before I gave Carlos the signal. I was halfway to the fight when I started yelling, shocking the bitch into looking at me. Cortez punished her for it, taking a chunk out her leg for ignoring him. The Nidoqueen didn't give a shit about the loud human approaching her. In her eyes, I was just making a lot of noise with no show to back it up. The Growlithe was the real problem. Or so she thought.
Still yelling, I gave Carlos the signal. Not even two seconds later, I heard Riot blast out of the brush, horn lowered at my ass. Cortez picked it up another notch, blasting the Nidoqueen with flames, pissing her off something fierce. Riot was almost on me and gaining speed. I hunkered down and reached out with my spare arm.
Riot's horn found my palm, and I used both the horn and Riot's momentum as a pivot to pull myself up against Riot's head. I was hanging off of that charging Rhyhorn with my feet planted firmly on his jaw. Riot was moving faster than I could, and by the time the Nidoqueen felt the rumble in the earth, we were right on top of her.
She looked up too fucking late.
I let go of Riot right before he slammed into her. I rolled to my feet in a one swift motion, and ran straight for the toppled bitch. Riot's charge had knocked the Nidoqueen to the ground. And my knife work was going to keep her there.
Just as the bitch pulled herself onto her toes and claws, my knife was slicing through both of her Achilles tendons with a pair of heavy-handed hacks. She let out a scream that almost sounded human.
Don't bother trying to get up.
Riot is coming back for round two.
Crippling the Nidoqueen had bought Riot the necessary time to build up the distance and speed required for a full-breaching charge, and my nifty cuts gave me the time to get the hell outta the way.
Riot came back at a thunderous pace. Getting his horn right up underneath the Nidoqueen's shoulder, Riot dug into her and found the required leverage. His combined speed, mass, and angle of approach provided sufficient force to send the bitch flying. She hadn't even peaked in her ascent before I was running over towards her LZ. The Nidoqueen smashed into the ground on her back, winded and stunned.
And that is just how she died.
My knife sank into the soft flesh above her right collar, and I dragged my razor across her throat to the opposite collar. I followed that red line up with one quick stab to the open larynx, and the deed was done.
Nidoqueen: 0
Rangers: 1
Game over.
Riot approached me with Cortez in tow. I wiped my knife off in the grass, while the Nidoqueen thrashed and bled to death behind me. A flawless execution, yet again.
Just another day in the Rangers for the Fucking Bastard.
"Good job, boys." I punched Riot in between his eyes, and he gave me a thwack on the hip for it with his rock-hard face. Fair is fair.
"Nicely done, Cortez. You can be my wingman, anytime." I rustled Cortez's shoulders roughly, grateful that this Hunter-Killer was a performance mon as well.
"Echo! Come on out." I called to my Squad, who were still hunkered down in the bushes. Five very pale Rangers hesitantly rose from their cover.
"Come on now, the bitch is almost dead." I grumbled, sheathing my knife. The Nidoqueen was gurgling on the ground behind me. She had roughly twenty more seconds to choke before her lungs finished filling with blood and finally drowned her.
Short, staggered steps brought my Echo to the front. The bitch was gagging her last when they finally made it to my position.
"And that is how a Ranger kills a Nidoqueen." I smiled at my unit. Everybody was stony faced and quiet. I just snorted. Once they got past the shock, Echo might find some of that faith I had been rambling on about earlier.
"Carlos, whip out the Tang. We're gonna barbecue this broad so that her corpse doesn't bring anymore predators into sector Charlie." Carlos swallowed, and fished through his kit for a canister of aerosol-dispensed-napalm, or 'Tang' as the Rangers liked to called it.
"No, not yet, dummy! Wait till she squeezes it all out." My grumpy voice stopped Carlos from prematurely tagging the bitch with Tang.
"...Squeezes?" Carlos asked. As if on cue, the Nidoqueen pinched a heavy pile of nasty right onto the ground between her legs.
"Goddamn, that bitch smells foul!" I hollered, waving a hand in front of my nose. Everyone else was gagging.
"Can I do it now, sir?!" Carlos was begging for the light up through a pinched nose. I shook my head.
"Wait for the rest of it." I grumbled. Carlos looked at me in disbelief.
"There's more coming?" Carlos whimpered.
Well she was pregnant, wasn't she?
The reek of birth mingled with the stench of excrement as the litter of Nido pups oozed out into their mother's feces. They were only a couple weeks away from being properly born. Almost fully developed. They were far enough along now to live for a few hours after their mother's death.
Small squeaks and clicks were being gasped out by the doomed Nido pups. Their closed eyes and delicate pink bodies were the hallmark of any newborn mammalian predator. The males were easy to tell apart from the females. All you had to do was look for the cap. Male Nidoran pups had a small round cap over their horn, an evolutionary measure designed to prevent them from damaging the mother or the other pups in the womb. Normally, that cap fell off two hours after birth.
None of the pups were going to last that long.
Echo was not ready for this. This was the hard part that I had warned them about. This was the Ranger part. The cruel part. I don't rightly know if mankind is an inherently empathetic species, but my Squad's reaction to the premature birth definitely supported the argument. Pete and Erin were alternately chewing on their nails and gaping, just as both Amber and Brenda were covering their mouths in watery-eyed horror. I suppose that it was understandable. Witnessing the feeble infants clabbering over one another in their mother's excrement probably wasn't going to make any healthy memories for my Walkouts. Out of all of Echo, only Carlos maintained his composure. Carlos might have looked sickly, but his training in the Infantry had prepared him for this. He alone knew what my next order would be. I was about to make one more macabre memory for this positively traumatizing day.
"Alright Carlos, toss me some Tang." I deftly caught the projectile canister, and then turned around to douse the Nidoqueen and her leavings.
"Put a heavy dose on the pups. They have a tendency to try running off when they light up." I instructed Carlos as I started spraying the bitch's head.
"NO! DON'T!" Brenda was pulling on my arm, crying her eyes out again. I'd seen this coming a klick away.
"Bren, listen to me-" My voice was patient, but not necessarily kind.
"You don't understand! They're still alive! They're only babies! Don't kill them, Zane! Please… Please don't hurt them!" Brenda was panicking fast, tearing at my hard kit in desperate grabs. I put down a thick coat of Tang on the mother's chest and abdomen.
"Bren… This is our job. This is what the Rangers do." I told her the truth as softly as I could. Brenda stopped grabbing at my chest, and looked up to meet my cold eyes.
"...But they're just babies…" Brenda was crying so hard now that she could barely speak.
"Yeah. Monster babies. If we didn't kill them now, Bren, Command would have us kill them later. The only difference about us killing them now, is that they don't get a chance to hurt anyone later." I explained something to Brenda that she had managed to block out back in the academy. Something that Brenda had been able to deny from the security of the Sickbay.
"...Zane, please… Don't do this…" Brendan pushed herself up against my chest, and I wrapped my arms protectively around her.
"Hey Carlos?" I called out, voice still soft.
"Yes, Bastard?"
"Done yet?" I asked.
"All done here."
"-No! Please! They're just-!"
"Okay then, Cortez, light 'em up." I pulled Brenda away from the volatile corpse, and Cortez blasted the napalm saturated cadaver with a jet of his flames. The Nido pups started squealing as soon as the conflagration consumed them.
"You have to look, Bren… This is your duty. You need to watch. See it now, so that you know what it looks like… So that you can be prepared..." I whispered into the sobbing girl's ear. I heard a cry of surprise from the Rangers standing behind me.
"Kill it, Cortez." I ordered, without looking back to confirm my suspicions. Cortez finished off the immolated pup before it could get any further than three meters. The pups could find their instinctive reflexes at that unborn age. All it took to inspire their survival was a little pain.
"You need to look, Brenda…" I turned myself and the teary eyed Ranger at my chest towards the flames. Brenda tucked her face into my shoulder and struggled against my hold. She wanted to escape me. She wanted to run away.
"You can't run, Bren. This is home now. You need to look." I gently rocked her as I stared into the hissing flames. A metallic scent was being given off alongside the standard smell of burning meat. The smell of Nido venom heating up.
"Come on, Ranger. You have to make a hard choice eventually." I felt Brenda loosen up. She turned her wet eyes towards the flames.
"That's my girl."
A loud shriek pealed out as a Nido pup tore clear of its mother's womb. The fire had entered the body cavity, and this straggler was now engulfed in flames. The infant Nidoran put down a full meter before it keeled over and waited to die, but not without making a wretched sound first. Brenda's sobbing face was pressed back into my chest, her shaking hands clamped tightly over her ears as the dying wail continued on.
"For fuck's sake, Carlos! Just step on the damn thing!" That racket was pissing me off. Carlos ran over and stomped the burning pup into silence.
We stayed until the flames had died down. Riot scattered the remains, rolling the charred corpse across the breadth of the glade. The carrion birds would get the detritus before anything big did. A murder of Murkrows were already gathering in the trees, eying the grilled smorgasboard greedily. When Riot finished his gruesome task, I gave Echo the order to return to Frontier Charlie.
"Come on, Rangers. Let's go home." I didn't even have to call them into formation, or give Cortez the standard ten-meters pole order. The entire unit came together as one at my shadow, and we raced the setting sun for the Evening Chorus.
…
"Command, this is Frontier Charlie. It is five minutes till the Evening Chorus. Would you like us to warm up the alto section? Over." The sun had just finished setting, and soon the darkness of night would be complete.
"Frontier Charlie, this is Command. Get those brass pipes spick and span. Over." I smiled as the reply came over my radio.
"Vauban, you're up!" I called my little girl over to a special section beneath the inner compound's mesh. The Hatch.
"Prep a flare, Vauban." Vauban gurgled excitably at my feet. I fought the urge to ruffle her head right then and there. The Evening Chorus would've been a great excuse, but after the way I had treated Butters, I assumed that it wouldn't be an appropriate expression in front of my Squad.
All of Echo had gathered in the inner compound, right down to the bandaged Butters. Cortez stood at the head of all the mon, and Carlos stood at the head of all the humans.
"I'll bet you guys didn't know that my little Vauban could double as a flare gun, didja?" I smirked over at my unit.
…
Chimera Industries had implanted Vauban with a cutting from a Sunflora bloom, back when Waterloo altered her chloroplasts for a hypermetabolism reaction triggered by exposure to ultra-dense UV rays. The reason for the Sunflora splicing was as simple as it was strategic. The Sunflora bloom produced a seed that contained a heavy dose of phosphorescent components. A very concentrated dose of phosphorescent components. When fired off, and shucked of its outer layer, the seed would burn with a light even brighter than the sun. A massive amount of UV rays were generated when the phosphorescent seed ignited. This allowed Vauban to trigger her chloroplast's hypermetabolism, even in the dead of night. A Vauban with both hyperactive chloroplasts and a full stomach was a force to be reckoned with. Because of her hypermetabolism, Vauban could move fucking fast. She could actually dust a Rapidash in a sprint. That kind of race was rather amusing to watch, especially given the length of Vauban's stubby legs.
Vauban's modified chloroplasts were just one example of Waterloo's Saboteur Class alterations. These chloroplasts increased a Saboteur's biological-agent payload via rapid repurposed cellular division. When a Saboteur Class Venusaur is exposed to the right stimuli prior to activating their hypermetabolism, the Venusaur essentially converts its entire biomass into a deadly neurotoxin. Once the light starts shining, the Venusaur starts urping up one of the most efficient and deadly nerve-agents known to man in a wide spread. Every living thing caught within that radius without adequate environmental protection seizures so fucking hardcore that they'll fracture their spines and tear apart their own lungs, just from the thrashing of their diaphragms and abdominal muscles. If that don't kill you, then the septic shock will. Nothing in a Saboteur's dispersal reacts well with a living body. The hypermetabolism process kills off the Saboteur of course, but Vauban isn't a "completed" Saboteur Class. She has never undergone the gene-therapy required to transmute her body into a bomb. Meaning that Vauban has only one reaction to exposure with ultra-dense UV rays. Vauban just pulls out the hidden booster rockets that Chimera Industries' genetic-cockanamie left her with, and blasts off into the sunset at mach-ten.
Thank God.
I have fucking nightmares about Vauban exploding. I never want to see a Saboteur Class in action.
-Ever.
…
"This is Frontier Alpha, calling in for the Evening Chorus. Over."
"This is Frontier Beta, standing by for Echo's signal. Over."
"This is Frontier Delta, our fuses are lit. Over.
"This is Frontier Foxtrot, preparing for the crescendo. Over."
"This is Frontier Charlie, we read you all loud and clear. Two minutes before our Da Capo. Command, toll the bell when the orchestra goes into encore. Over." I smirked at my Rangers.
"Twenty-three years, Echo. Twenty-three fucking years…" I murmured to my unit with a shit-eating grin. I could hardly believe it myself. After twenty-three years of silence, Frontier Charlie was once more singing in the Evening Chorus. This might sound melodramatic, given my age, but I had never expected to see Frontier Charlie singing again in my lifetime. Or, even less likely, foreseen myself playing the maestro in Frontier Charlie's resurgence into the Evening Chorus.
I guess I'm just a sucker for history. Everybody has that one whimsical sentiment.
"Pete, pop the Hatch. We've got thirty seconds." It wasn't so much an order as it was an honor. Pete started to wind up a winch, causing the squared off section of mesh above me and Vauban to part quite loudly.
"Oh, I can feel my teeth vibrating…" I rotated my jaw but maintained my smile. We needed to get some oil in the Hatch's grate. That metal on metal screech was absolutely agonizing to stand under.
"Ten seconds, Echo. Start the countdown at five-" My squad threw their voices in with mine, as we ticked away to the Evening Chorus.
"..."
"-Five…"
"-Four…"
"-Three…"
"-Two…"
"-ONE!"
"LET IT RIP, VAUBAN!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. Vauban fired off her phosphorescent seed, and the entire inner compound and surrounding Frontier was blinded by a brilliant green burst of light.
When my eyes adjust to the sudden flash, I scanned the horizon for the rest of the Evening Chorus. Four red flares lit up the night sky, a symbol sent from all of the other Frontier Outposts. A symbol of the Ranger's presence in Viridian. A timeless symbol of our calling.
A symbol of the Ranger's commitment to the safety of humanity.
"Command, this is Frontier Foxtrot. The Fucking Bastard is showboating. Over."
"This is Frontier Alpha. Frontier Charlie? Confirm green flare. Over."
"Frontier Beta hailing Frontier Charlie. Bastard, you smarmy little fuck! Over."
"Frontier Charlie to all Frontier Outposts. Frontier Charlie's flare is green. Deal with it. Over." I gloated into my radio. I recognized several of those voices. My friends in the Vets were sending their regards.
"This is the Colonel to all Frontier Outposts. Frontier Charlie is green. Approved. Nice touch, Bastard. Over." I could almost hear the Colonel laughing in his transmission.
"Frontier Charlie, radio Command first thing in the morning. O'-Six-hundred hours. All other Frontier Outposts, report the morning call as usual. The bell tolls, Rangers. Goodnight, and good luck to you all. Command out."
"Seal the Hatch, Pete. That flare is gonna draw a lot of the night time bugs' attention." I ordered of the twitchy Pete. Vauban's flare had a long burn time, and it would be a while before it landed somewhere in the Frontier.
"Alright, Rangers. It's time to hit the feed bag for both man and mon. Let's go get sick on MREs." The whole unit started groaning. I just smiled. They'd be grateful for the MREs very shortly. None of them knew just how hungry they were yet.
…
"Pete, try the Crab Marsala. It won't give you diarrhea, I promise."
"Are you only going to eat the Spaghetti and Meat Sauce, Carlos? Pussy."
"Bren, don't eat all the Maple Links in one meal. They're not nicknamed 'The Five Fingers of Death' for nothing."
"Amber, have the Cheesy Enchilada. You won't have to worry about shitting for a month after just one spoonful."
"Doubling up on the Lo mein, Erin? Goddamn, you're brave. I'm so fucking glad that I have my own quarters now. Echo, sleep with environmental-masks on. Erin is gonna be volatile."
My lewd banter regarding our dinner filled the Ready Room with roars of laughter. Despite the MREs' vile reputation, empty stomachs could make even cold puke taste like cuisine. We were digging in ravenously, having only eaten Grambars earlier, back on the trek from the M-straight to Frontier Charlie. Despite our unrestrained laughter, its cacophony was completely overwhelmed by the racket our mon were making in their feed trough.
"Goddamnit, Riot! Chew your food! Don't belch it in, you sick fuck!" I hollered over to the noisy Rhyhorn, who was chowing down his fifty-pound dinner like he was worried about a drain appearing in the bottom of his trough. Riot just snorted at me, but he slowed his feeding process accordingly. Vauban and Cortez were sharing a trough with Vespucci; While Whiskers, Butters, and Duster had a trough all of their own. I had rescinded my previous order regarding Butter's confinement to Sickbay, but only after Brenda had promised me that her little monkey didn't throw his poo.
"It's been a rough first day, Echo. But we made it." I smiled as I tucked into my meal, while all of Echo exchanged pleased looks. The day's first genuine moment of relaxation eased the course towards conversation.
"...So Bastard?" Pete started. I tossed my dining utensils on the longtable, and gave Pete my full attention.
"How many Delta-Threes have you killed?" Pete asked carefully. Everybody looked at me, curiosity in every eye.
"Today makes forty-seven." I answered softly. Echo's collection of eyes bulged out of their collective skulls.
"-Forty-seven?" Carlos's jaw dropped.
"Personal executions. I'm not including the Delta-Threes that I assisted the Vets with slaying." I answered. Everybody was exchanging wide-eyed looks now.
"How many in total?" Erin breathed.
"One-hundred-and-seventy-three." I replied. My Echo Squad was looking at me in the strangest fashion now. As if they couldn't believe that I was real.
"That is the total number of S-ranked missions that I have lived through. Most of them had me killing big Nidos or blowing up Beedrill hives. Couldn't give you an exact tally on what was what, but after S-rank mission thirty-six, I just stopped caring." I let them know the truth. I was no longer worried about managing my trophies. I only knew the count from the mission logs somebody else had recorded and put in my file.
"And you're only seventeen years old?" Granny Amber was looking at me like I was an irregularity.
"Somebody has to do it, Rangers. Age does not detract relevance from necessity." I answered. That quieted the topic down. But the discussion was just finding its way onto more comfortable tracks.
"So where did you learn that trick with Riot? Did the Vets teach you that?" Carlos spoke after the long silence had grown too unbearable for the Walkouts to endure. I chuckled.
"No, I taught the Vets how to rodeo. And I'm gonna show you how to rodeo, Carlos."
"M-me-?" Carlos winced when I pointed his ass out.
"You came up with that technique? Where the hell did you get that idea from?" Pete exclaimed, looking at me all crazy-like. I was laughing at Carlos, waiting for him to get past the shock. Might as well answer Pete's question first then…
"Ever hear about the Minoans of Crete?" I asked the table. I got a roomful of blank stares.
"Anyone? Come on, cartographer, tell me that you know about the Cretan Islands and one of their most famous inhabitants?" I looked to Erin for some reinforcement. Nope. Those eyes were whitewashed. Well, the answer certainly wasn't coming from his dumbass-
"Weren't they… Some kind of Grecian tribe that worshipped bulls?" Pete spoke up, drawing every odd look his way. I snapped my fingers and sighed in relief. At least someone in Echo could remember basic history.
"Right you are, Pete. The Minoans. Probably most famous for their legend of the labyrinth and the Minotaur. At least I'm assuming that's all you know about them…" I put a disgruntled eye on Pete, and the innately-nervous Ranger actually shrugged it off.
"Well, at least I know that much." Holy shit. Cocky Pete had found some balls. I just snorted.
"Knowing more than anyone else, isn't always enough, Pete. But yes, at least someone here knows one of the Cretan legends." I took another mouthful of food, before elaborating.
"Bull-vaulting, or bull-leaping." I answered. Everybody was looking at me quite strangely now. I swallowed another bite, before explaining further.
"The Minoans had a religious ritual of sorts. A ritual pertaining to the bull, and in a peculiar and dangerous way, the Minoans made something of a sport out of it." I lowered my utensils, leaned both elbows on the longtable, and rested my chin on conjoined knuckles.
"The Minoans would stand opposed to a bull, and goad it into charging them, before grabbing 'the bull by the horns,' that's the origin of the idiom, mind you; and by using the bull's bucking head, vault over the beast uninjured." I smiled at the end. All of Echo was wearing some pretty fucking funny faces right now. Intrigued and 'you've got to be shitting me' being the most prevalent of expressions at that longtable.
"So you… revived an ancient ritual for use in combat?" Pete shook his head as the revelation occurred to him.
"Well… let's just say that I had to settle for less. I originally wanted to use the Minoan technique for properly mounting a charging Rhyhorn, but they're so damn thick before the neck I had to alter the mount into a kinda hang-on for dear life. Otherwise, it was messy. And fucking painful." Riot punctuated my admission with an amused snort.
"Yeah, Riot… I remember how much you rumbled when my fucking knees compacted against your forehead. Asshole." I chuckled with the Rhyhorn.
"And you want me to learn how to… Rhyhorn-vault?" Carlos sounded nervous.
"Riot is your fucking Siege Class, Carlos. You saw how useful that trick was. You need to learn how to maximize your synergy with Riot. The fucking rodeo would be a great place to start." I put my Commander's face on. Carlos shuddered.
"You'll be wearing the hard kit, and we'll take it slow. After we're done packing away tomorrow's manifest, you, me, and Amber are all heading out to the inner compound. While Amber is working on the relay, you, Riot, and I will be working on the rodeo." I laid it out for them. Carlos's look of pure anxiety was matched only by Amber's expression of overwhelming relief.
"I hope that a pair of front-line Rangers and a Siege Class Rhyhorn practicing in the inner compound won't distract you from your duty, Warrant Officer Hail." I directed that statement to Amber with the typical irritated tone I used when addressing her. Amber swallowed and lowered her eyes. But I could tell that she appreciated the gesture.
"Can I ask another question?" Pete piped up again, drawing my reluctant attention his way.
"When you engaged the Delta-Three, why didn't you just have us all attack it in a group? I mean, we could have called on our mon-" Carlos cut Pete off with burst of laughter. I eyed my Second in Command, feeling rather amused myself.
"Tell'em, Carlos." I grunted, returning to my cooling meal. Carlos stopped laughing and shook his head.
"Pete, we could have done that. Hell, we might even have won. But somebody would have gotten hurt or killed." Carlos explained. That rudimentary prediction didn't quite satisfied Pete.
"But with Riot-"
"The only thing that Riot can do to a Nidoqueen is knock her over with a charge, and Riot can only charge her when she's either distracted or has been previously incapacitated. That Nidoqueen would have had absolutely no problem dodging those charges without the assist from Bastard and Cortez. Rhyhorns can't alter their trajectories after they reach a certain speed-"
"-Ramming speed." I threw in.
"-and if Riot had tried to engage the Delta-Three in close-quarters combat, she would have made mincemeat out of him. Or just poisoned Riot and let her venom wear him out." Carlos explained the Nido's tactics with all the detail of a fucking textbook.
"And you all saw the best my Hunter-Killer could manage. Cortez could barely draw blood. Nidoqueen are tough, and strictly speaking… Echo only has three combat service mon. Vauban, Cortez, and Riot. Had we brazenly engaged the Nidoqueen with six knives drawn and our full numbers deployed… somebody would have died. You need to be smart, and ply your best assets where they're most effective." I finished explaining for Carlos.
"Distract, cover, blitz, cripple, blitz, stun, kill. That's the formula Bastard used for killing a Nidoqueen without risking casualties on our end." Carlos stated. I looked at him with a slight glimmer of approval in one eye. Carlos had actually learned something from watching me work.
"You have to get into their brains, figure out how they think. Once you know that, you can design a counter-strategy for their elimination." I told all of my unit.
"A rather impressive tactic, especially given that you didn't have any D3CUs available." Carlos was looking at me with a new level of respect, as was all of Echo. I just chuckled the compliment away.
"The secret to survival, Echo… Isn't owning the biggest guns. It's knowing how to use what you already have." I answered their looks of praise with the humble wisdom that I had inherited from my time in Spec. Ops.
"Right, clean up and hit the bunks, Echo. The bell tolled almost an hour ago. You are still awake well after lights-out, and all of us are exhausted. We have a very busy day tomorrow stocking this bunker up, so pass out as soon as you hit the pillows." I gave the final order of the day, and all Echo was only too happy to comply.
"Bren, stay here a moment longer." I muttered as the others scrambled to clear their places off of the longtable. Brenda froze in her seat and looked at me fearfully. I wasn't meeting her eyes, though. I was staring at the corner of the table. When the rest of Echo and their mon had retired to the barracks, I steepled my hands together and sighed.
"I'm sorry, Bren." My tone did not sound apologetic in the least. Brenda began to wither in upon herself, eyes vacant and unfocused.
"I'm sorry that you chose to wear a Beret." I grunted, and wiped my nose. Brenda let loose a shuddering breath.
"I know… I know that you aren't cut out for this line of work, Bren." I finally looked at her. Brenda was silently crying, her hands clenched tightly together under the longtable. I sighed again.
"This kind of business… It doesn't favor bleeding hearts, kid." My tone actually sounded gentle. Brenda was cracking again. She'd been holding it in all day, but the Nido-pyre had finally snapped her.
"But I need you to understand, Bren…" I crinkled up the remains of my MRE, and wadded it into a tight ball.
"I need you alive. I need you to be strong. I really… I really don't want to tell your husband that you died under my Command-" I fought back my own tears. I had a good deal of success in such regards, though I doubted that my eyes were their normal non-reddened color. But some of the heartfelt infected my words, giving Brenda the purchase to speak.
"-Wife." Brenda choked. I shook myself.
"Say what?" I asked, startled. Brenda sniffled.
"My wife." Brenda gasped. My eyes widened.
"Whoo-ie! My naughty little Bren! Why didn't you tell me sooner?" I was grinning from ear to ear. That cheesy smile got Brenda to giggle a bit.
"I just… I just didn't know if you-" I cut her off with a snort.
"I want some wedding pictures. Actually, I think that I want some 'bedroom pictures,' too." I smirked. Brenda's new giggle was even louder.
"You're such a pig, Bastard." Brenda laughed. My smirk settled into a smile.
"I am what I eat." I grunted, tossing my Pork and Beans MRE kit at Brenda. She deftly avoided my half-hearted throw. Brenda was overcome with the giggles now, but a look into my eyes calmed her down a bit.
"Did you… Did you really want to see those wedding pictures?" Brenda asked me, tentatively.
"Of course I do." I stood up from my seat. Brenda swallowed, before fishing into her inner coat pocket for a wallet. She was hesitant about opening it, as if she feared that something would be missing when she did.
"This is Melissa." Brenda whispered, finally opening the wallet when I came to stand beside her. A wedding photo was laminated into the left sleeve of Brenda's wallet. Two girls in wedding dresses stood holding the same bouquet in front of an alter. A real smile played on my lips when I saw the two teary-eyed faces beaming up at me from that photo.
"She's beautiful, Bren. Congratulations." I whispered softly over Brenda's shoulder. Brenda shuddered slightly.
"I like to keep this photo close…" Brenda pulled her wallet against her chest. I put a hand on Brenda's shoulder, and gently squeezed.
"I miss her, Zane..." Brenda was crying again, full tilt sniffles and swollen eyes.
"Hey. Bren." I tightened my grip slightly. Brenda curled in over her wallet with a sob.
"Bren, listen to me…" I sat down next to her, pulling her loose bangs back behind an ear.
"Bren… just look at me." My soft voice called the weeping girl's eyes over to mine. I swallowed slightly, but I kept my eyes strong for her.
"I'm going to get you back to Melissa, Bren. I promise you." Brenda took a sudden sharp intake of breath, as she tried to wrestle herself back under control.
"But I need you to stay strong. This is gonna be hard on you. Harder than it's going to be on the rest of us. I can't harden a kind heart, Bren. So I need to protect it." I whispered to her. Brenda was coming out of it. She was down to mere snuffles now.
"You need to put in an effort, kid... And just let me put in the rest." My hand found Brenda's under the table, and she held it firmly.
"Zane…" Brenda choked a bit on my name. I held my firm gaze on hers.
"...Thank you."
I smiled gently, and then clapped Brenda on the shoulder.
"Don't mention it, Bren. Now…" I jerked my head over towards the barracks.
"Go get some sleep." Brenda nodded, and rose from the longtable. She slowly walked her way over to Echo's shared sleeping quarters, and paused right before the door with her back to me. I sighed softly when Brenda passed through the barrack doors without making a sound. Leaning back against the longtable, I wondered if what I had just done was me overstepping my bounds. Cortez approached me, with my wadded MRE packet in his mouth. I took it from him, and pitched it into the rubbish bin.
"Vauban, Cortez. Bed time." I told my two mon. Vauban had been watching the entire affair from the trough, a curious look playing on her face.
"Come on, you two. The Commander needs his sleep." I turned around, and stalked off to the Commander's Quarters, with my two little soldiers in tow.
I removed the dusty sheets from the Commander's Quarters. Apart from the smaller size and the bare concrete walls and floors, it seemed oddly reminiscent of the Colonel's own office. Even the desk was of the exact same make and position of Colonel Howes's office format. A pair of bookshelves, containing mission logs and gardening books were exposed to the light again, as I purged the office of its ghostly white sheets. One layer at a time, a world new to me was being exhumed by my hands, images capturing the purest forms of the past. I pulled off another sheet, and uncovered the Ranger's standards held aloft in the right rear corner. Age had stained these banners, but instead of degrading their form, I found that the weathered appearance only served to accentuate their magnificence. I straightened out one corner of standard's sigil, then I stood back and saluted the Ranger's flag. I felt tears in my eyes as I stood there, absorbing the profanity of my presence in this sacred place. I was just an infant to these walls. I was just a child to this flag. These halls had sheltered heroes for centuries before my birth, and this place had been sealed as a tomb before I was even conceived.
It was overwhelming to be there. It was beyond all my own belief that I was playing a part in this drama.
It felt as if a legacy was being revealed to me, and I was being welcomed into it, despite my own numerous inequities.
I dropped my salute in silent reverence. Then I turned, and took a seat behind my desk. Curiosities left by the former Commander were strewn about the surface, a shrine to the last Echo Commander.
I wasn't going to touch them. They belonged to a greater man than I, and I would honor his station by keeping it true to his trappings. I gently blew the invasive grime off of the desk, and lifted a mission statement twenty-three years old from the center.
I should never have read it. Colonel Howes's final words to the previous Echo Squad were meant for them and them alone. I quickly hid that sheet in the confines of the desk, before succumbing to the tears.
This was too much. This was too much for me. How could I ever hope to satisfy these great men?
I got myself contained. Shaken Zane forfeited control to the Fucking Bastard. I could not doubt. I would succeed. I would bring this fallen temple back into the sun. I would raise more heroes for these halls. And I would make these noble souls proud of this new generation of Rangers.
"Cortez." My voice carried none of the struggle. It was a dry command, one that I would find myself using only a few months later as my standard voice. Cortez approached the desk, and stood silently in front of it, looking up at me with those calm eyes.
"So how did I do?" I asked. Cortez lifted a paw. He held it steady for a moment, and I felt my heart move into my throat. Then Cortez flicked his paw twice, before lowering it. I sat back in my desk, wearing a soft smile.
"If anyone is gonna weigh and measure me in this hall, Cortez… You would be the fittest judge." I whispered softly. My dog closed his eyes and tightened his black lips. He seemed to be smiling at me.
"Don't you get all smug on me, Cortez. I am still your CO." I grumbled as I pushed myself out of the seat. Cortez sneezed as I retreated into my quarters.
Smirking fuck.
I sat down on my bed, a new cover of coarse wool sheets wrapped around the ancient mattress. Prepping myself for sleep, I stripped of my attire, and washed with a basin of cold water and soap. Laying on the rough sheets, I stared up at the ceiling light, fighting the rising urge that privacy tortured me with.
But it was futile.
"Vauban." I called out her name. Vauban and Cortez had followed me into my quarters, and had set up camp nestling together in a padded corner pen, made for a much larger mon than either of them. Vauban looked up at my spread arms in disbelief.
"Come here, girl."
Vauban hesitated. She hadn't seen me like this since back in the academy. I don't think that Vauban could believe that I'd finally lowered my walls again. It took her a moment to overcome the shock, reminding me fiercely of our first meeting at Role Call.
One step forward.
One step back.
Two steps forward.
Pause.
Blink. Blink.
Smile.
Charge.
I caught Vauban's pudgy body mid leap as she scraped her belly on the edge of my mattress. I pulled her wheezing figure up below my chin and nestled my nose into her smooth face.
"I missed you, girl…" I whispered, as Vauban's tiny form curled up against my collars.
"I missed you…" I ran a hand down Vauban's head, and found myself smiling when she started snoring almost instantly. She always fell asleep quickly in my arms. I had no idea how Vauban could be so comfortable in my embrace. I kissed Vauban's nose, getting a funny little warble out of my little girl. She huddled up against me even closer. I chuckled, and just stroked her sleeping face and bulb for a moment longer. Sighing, I shifted and made to turn off the lights. Then I noticed Cortez watching me with his purple eye.
"Hey, Cortez-" My voice boomed in that silent room.
"Could you maybe sleep facing the other way? I might fucking scream if I wake up to that side of you. No offense." I was grinning like my namesake. Cortez sneezed again as he rose, and positioned himself accordingly. His green eye was now regarding me with a fond twinkle.
"Good night, y'all. We're all waking up first, so sleep deep." I reached over to the lightswitch, and plunged the room into the thickest night that I had ever seen. You could practically feel the weight of that shadow in every heavy breath. It was actually eerie, being caught in that total darkness. But then I heard Vauban snoring in the gloom, and her soft sound guided me into a dreamless sleep.
…
I woke to the sound of my alarm. I quickly rose, flicking the switch above my head, bathing the room in feeble, sterile light. The bunker was ice cold. For a moment, I was worried that the environmentals had failed. But then I realized that this was all just a part of living underground.
Vauban and Cortez didn't struggle to rise at all. Vauban was on the floor before my toes discovered just how unpleasant frozen concrete feels. I stomped the stiffness out my legs, and did a couple of vigorous stretches to loosen my form and warm myself up. Then I dressed, and lifted the dusty morning horn off of the wall.
I cleaned that horn with a rag as I marched silently towards the Barracks. Vauban trundled at my left rear, and Cortez walked at my right rear. I was wearing a stern expression, just incase any of Echo was already awake in the Barracks. Silently opening the heavy fire door to the Barracks, my morning unit slipped into the snoring room.
I went straight over to Riot, and with a series of firm pats on his lips, silently woke the siege beast. Then I leaned over with an evil smirk on my face, and whispered my devious plan for waking the Walkouts into Riot's ear. The Rhyhorn rumbled his approval, and rose to stand beside Cortez and me.
I looked at my wrist, and read the time on my watch. Ten seconds to go.
I raised the horn to my lips, and started the countdown with my spare hand at five seconds till.
Four.
Three
Two.
One.
Mark.
I blew the morning horn as loudly as I could, but it was no match for the combined roars of Cortez and Riot. All of Echo woke in a panic attack, heads hitting ceilings and top bunks. I had to stop blowing the morning horn prematurely. I was laughing way too damn hard to keep my lips properly puckered.
"Rise and shine, Echo. We got a half-an-hour before check-in with Command. I want us all dressed and fed by that time. Let's get a move on." I walked right out of that gasping room with Riot, Cortez, and Vauban in pursuit, all of us still laughing at the panting Walkouts, clutching at their hammering chests.
...
"Command this is Frontier Charlie, it is O'-six-hundred hours. Echo is making the call-in. Over." I spoke into my portable radio at the Comm Room. Amber and Pete didn't have the Comm Center and relay up and running yet, but they had managed to wire a feed from my radio to one of the long-range antennas that still functional on Frontier Charlie's relay.
"Frontier Charlie, this is the Colonel. How did the morning greet Echo, Bastard? Over." That kind of surprised me. It wasn't every morning that the Colonel personally answered the Frontier Outposts.
"We are just dandy, Colonel. How are things at Prime? Over." I respectfully answered the Colonel's query. I heard a chuckle on the other end.
"Quiet, now that Warrant Officer Hail is gone. Over." I grinned over my shoulder to the scandalized Amber. The rest of Echo was cracking up.
"Yeah, thanks for that, by the way. You old coot. Over." I got one hell of a laugh out of the Colonel for that one, and a gasp of surprise from my unit for my daring disrespect.
I like to think that the Colonel and I have an understanding.
"Any events to report, Echo? Over." The Colonel's concern was audible over his recent mirth.
"Echo bagged her first Delta-Three yesterday. Nidoqueen. Roughly eighteen pups too. Over." I reported.
"Already starting those patrols, Bastard? I thought that you might want to settle in before you went playing the dangerous game. Over." The Colonel sounded pleased.
"It seemed like the appropriate move. Eliminate a threat, make our presence known, build up morale, you know… Standard procedure. Over." I made my voice sound casual.
"Standard procedure my ass. I told you to give it two weeks before you started head-hunting, Ranger." The 'Over' was forgotten. This was a personal call now.
"Well, Cortez didn't want to wait, and we came through flawlessly. A bruise or two on my elbows from the rodeo, but that was it. Just a clean-cut kill." I stated calmly.
"Don't get reckless, Bastard. Those are Walkouts you are working with. Not Vets. Start them slow, and work your way up. I have total confidence in you and them. Don't rush them. Save the Safari for later. I want expedition and intel covered first."
"Yes, sir. I suppose now would be a bad time to tell you that I'm not standing here all alone?" I actually sounded worried. I didn't think that the Colonel wanted Echo hearing his praise quite so early into our mission.
"Goddamnit, Bastard…" The Colonel got grumpy pretty fucking quick.
"Echo. Forget everything you just heard. You are all worthless shameful pieces of shit under my boot heel. None are worse than the Bastard. You have all disappointed me. Over." My unit was laughing uproariously, despite the severity in the Colonel's voice. He couldn't cover it up, no matter how fierce he made himself sound.
"If it's any consolation, Colonel, Warrant Officer Hail broke down crying when you mentioned her earlier. Over." I said it in a voice thick with grin.
"I did not!" Amber cried out indignantly, but I'd already taken my finger off the call switch.
"Glad to hear it. Make her suffer, Bastard. Over." The Colonel's deadly voice silenced the room.
"It would be my honor, sir. Over." I put my hand over my heart and vocalized my smarmiest smirk.
"Quit the boot-licking, Bastard. Anything particular you need the Aerial Units to send? Over." The Colonel had dispensed with pleasantries, and it was all business now.
"Sooner or later, we're gonna want a skycam and harness for Erin's Spearow. We can use Vespucci for gathering intel once we get him rigged with a camera. Other than that, we're gonna need some parts for the relay. It got pretty badly weathered over time, and our Field-Tech reckons that we're gonna need an entirely new broadcasting platform just to get it running again. Oh, and extra food for the mon. They're having to put in overtime, and Riot ate everything that we brought with us last night. I can't think of much else. Over." I listed off our manifest to the Colonel.
"Right, well the camera is going to have to wait, but I can get the broadcasting platform out today. I'm also adding some fresh foods to the list. I don't need Frontier Charlie smelling like vomit when the Vets come patronizing. Lay off the MREs. Kill the fresh stuff first, and then go back to gagging yourselves. I'll have the package dropped at twelve-hundred-hours. Make sure that the Hatch is open. This is the Colonel, over and out." The Colonel cut the feed. I smiled back at my unit.
"Fresh food… Can any of you cook?" I witnessed every happy face fall.
Well, every face but-
"I can cook!" Pete volunteered.
"Right, Petey is the Camp Cook. Meaning the rest of you are on swab detail when the kitchen fire is stoked. Now everybody grab a mop. We're gonna finish cleaning this place up before the package gets here." I smiled at my unit. Erin was the only one who groaned.
Don't push me, Private. I may have changed my tune, but I'm not going easy on your ass.
"Let's get fucking moving, Echo! We are green, we are mean, and we are clean! Get those asses scrubbing!" I barked my order loudly and smirked when they rushed to fulfill it. I followed them into the Utilities, and pulled a bucket and a mop out for myself. Then I went back to my office, and made the place shine like it was supposed to.
…
"Holy shit. That's a lot of crap. Okay, Echo get these packages stowed. Riot, you and Carlos are handling the big ones. Pete, keep Duster away from the electronics. I don't need his static fucking them up. Amber, as soon as we uncover the broadcasting platform, your ass is under the relay. Once we get this shit all housed, Pete, Erin and Brenda are to going to get it all shelved. Pete, you're Radio and Kitchen stock. Erin you're the miscellaneous grunt, and Brenda; you handle the medical supplies extra carefully. Riot, Carlos and me are gonna be brushing up on our combat training in the compound, and Amber is confined to the relay until it works. Let's move, Echo! Get it all gone!" I roared the strategy while jerking thumbs over my shoulder to the appropriate mon and Walkouts. Everybody hauled to get the Pidgeot Flight Squadron's wares stowed. We had some backbreaking work ahead of us, but Riot was gonna handle most of that.
"Is that the broadcasting platform?" I asked Pete as he shuffled through the crates.
"I think so." Pete cracked the top, and I threw aside the straw.
"It's your lucky day, Amber, we found it. Carlos, get Riot over here and get this sucker into position next the relay. Amber, go get your kit. You start working immediately. Pete, square the kitchen supplies away first, then take care of the Comm Room. Both of you and Amber get Radios on a private channel now, and work out the relay's fine tuning. I'm not waiting, Rangers, let's do it today!" I altered my orders on the broadcasting platform's immediate discovery. Now all of Echo's assets were converging together on Frontier Charlie's radio-fix priority.
"I want this platform wired up in four hours, Field-Tech. Get a move on." I hustled Amber into action.
Unfortunately…
"It's going to take me at least seven hours to do the job. Why don't you let the Field-Tech set her own hours?" Amber replied snidely.
Que exactly what I'd been gunning for.
"Echo, stop whatever the fuck you're doing and put your eyes on Warrant Officer Hail right now." My voice was cold, and every member froze when they heard it. Amber particularly. I turned around and faced Amber directly.
"I told you what I wanted, Amber. You know what I didn't ask for?" The Fucking Bastard bore down on her like a falling anvil. Amber backed up. That only made me even more angry.
"WARRANT OFFICER HAIL! YOU DO NOT BACK AWAY FROM ME WHEN I AM CHEWING YOUR ASS OUT!" Amber dropped her kit, and assumed a shaking attention stance. Everybody was looking at me with yesterday's dread rising in their eyes.
"Now… What did I not ask for, Warrant Officer?" I asked Amber, a mere six inches from her person. Amber was beginning to panic. My head was shaking from the fury.
"I did not ask for your shitty attitude. I told you to get the job done in four hours. News Flash: I am a qualified Field-Tech. I know damn well it doesn't take seven hours to wire a fucking platform in. So why do you need an extra three?" I walked a circle around Amber, glaring at her every angle.
"I- I just-" Amber was trying to stutter up an excuse, but her frazzled brain couldn't design one under the pressure.
"Were you were just trying to bullshit me so that you could slack off? Well? Is that what you were trying to do?" I paused my pace at her left side.
"I wasn't trying to-"
"WARRANT OFFICER HAIL! WERE YOU TRYING TO BULLSHIT ME, YES OR NO?!" I roared. Amber couldn't answer. No was a lie that I could smell. Yes was a truth that I couldn't abide.
"One chance, Amber… You answer me now, or I'll make you sleep outside the gate…" My voice was dangerously low. My Walkouts were trembling again. They had all hoped that this side of me was gone.
Nope. It had just waiting for them to slip up.
"-Yes…" Amber sobbed. I worked my jaw something fierce.
"Pete, back a kit for Amber. She's sleeping in the inner compound tonight." I growled.
"NO!" Amber freaked out, but my glare told her to shut her mouth tight.
"You fucked up, Amber. Now you get to stomach the consequences." I was breathing rage through my nose. My temper was flaring, and all of Echo could see it. Even so, Carlos decided to speak up.
"Come on, Bastard… You don't really mean that, do you?" Carlos sounded worried.
"The hell I do, Carlos. You all might have thought that my soft side was here to stay, but let me correct you. We are still in the Frontier. My Frontier. You play by my rules, and I'll give you some leeway. You try to fuck with me… You're all gonna find out why they call me the Fucking Bastard." I rumbled.
"Come on, Bastard… You're going to kill her if you make her sleep outside…" Pete was taking the plate for Amber. I rounded on him next.
"Better yet, Pete. Pack six kits. We're all sleeping outside tonight." I growled. Everybody locked up. That was not something they had seen coming.
"You will learn, Rangers. You will learn to fear. And you will learn what it is you need to fear. Sleeping outside tonight? Doesn't scare me one bit. I lasted two weeks alone with a broken leg out in the Frontier, without any walls or a half cracked mesh to guard my ass. None of you have figured it out yet. You still don't know what to fear." I was about to storm off, but worried Brenda stopped me.
"Please Zane, you promised-" I pulled Brenda around me and placed her with the rest of Echo.
Fine. I'm done going soft. I'm gonna tell you all what you need to fear.
"I promised Colonel Howes that I was going to make you five Walkouts into Rangers. Guess what is gonna happen we go on Safari? We'll all be sleeping outside. Without any walls or mesh. The only thing that is gonna cover our asses is our Squad mates. You all gave me the perfect opportunity to break you into the Ranger's life. Now get this shit stowed. We may be getting wet tonight, but our supplies aren't." I growled over Brenda's begging. She fell back, teary eyed. I looked around at my shaking Squad, before I addressed the cold and fearful units beneath my Command.
"You have to learn, Rangers. You have to figure it out. I can tell you what I fear. But it will never compare to that moment when you realize it. We are Rangers. It is our duty to protect mankind from the mon. And when one of you dies, and the others watch… You will understand just how fragile mankind's survival is. And at that point, you will either submit and die as well… Or persevere and rise to the call. That's how I learned it. That's how every Ranger learns it. Our motto is not based on self-sacrifice because of some poet's floral ideals. We fight and die, so that what we love-" I looked right into Brenda's eyes when I spoke these words. I knew that she better than anyone would understand them.
"-Does not die."
Brenda did not disappoint me. The tears still trickled down her face, but her breathing steadied. She met my eyes. Those same eyes she had seen last night. We were both silent, holding each other's gaze. I could see it. Brenda understood. And she had the courage to face it.
There is a strength in compassion. I will never deny that. I may have had my doubts before, but Brenda wiped them all away in that one moment. That moment when Brenda realized something that I had only realized…
...After I had held a dying man in my arms.
"Brenda." My harsh voice gave her reason to jump.
"Tell Echo what you just told me." I grunted. Brenda took several deep breathes, before she complied to my order.
"We'll be fine tonight, Echo. There's no reason to fear." Brenda spoke firmly. My heart was swimming in pride. The meekest of Echo was now its most fearless.
"Brenda, what are you-"
"Shut the hell up, Carlos. Otherwise Brenda… Will be my Second in Command." I let that kick to the groin set in. But Brenda's words had an effect. The fear in Echo's eyes was dampened somewhat.
"Right. Now that the moment has passed… Resume your duties, Echo." I looked over to Cortez, and shot him a quizzical glance. The dog raised his right paw, and flicked it twice. I smirked to myself. It was all about the approach.
…
"Okay, Carlos. Just squat down and put your palm out." I instructed Carlos in the basics of the rodeo. He was still shaken from my earlier decision to sleep outside, but Brenda's confidence had bolstered Echo's confidence. Echo was beginning to act like a Squad. Every member contributing to the strength of the whole. Confidence. They may have been scared, but they weren't scared of me.
It was a step in the right direction.
"Alright, I'm gonna punch your hand a couple of times. Get your reflex in. I don't want you thinking about this part, I need you to grab onto my fist when it connects." I winked at Riot, who was standing by behind us. The Rhyhorn grunted. He had an idea how my mischievous mind worked.
"Okay, punch one coming up." I flung my fist into Carlos's hand. He favored wringing his hand over grabbing my fist.
"Damnit, Bastard! Do you have to hit so hard?" Carlos massaged his hand. I snorted.
"That was nothing, Carlos. Wait till Riot hits it." I grinned. Carlos groaned in dread.
"Maybe I don't want to learn how to rodeo…" Carlos muttered.
"Too bad, Carlos. Palm out." I ordered. Carlos complied.
"Now remember, keep your arm loose, and your body rigid. When Riot makes contact with your hand, you're gonna want to jump towards him. Otherwise you'll just get dragged behind. Punch number two incoming." I flung another hook. Carlos grabbed my fist right off the bat.
"Good. Again." Punch number three landed, and Carlos fumbled it.
"Try again." I gleefully stated. Carlos just groaned. Punch number four through seven went off without a hitch. Carlos's hand had to be numb with pain right now. I looked over my shoulder, and jerked my head at Riot. I swear that Rhyhorn was smiling at me.
"Okay, number eight incoming. Now I want you to jump this time. To your right side." I told Carlos.
"We're moving to the jump already?" Carlos sounded nervous.
I guess he knew me.
"Justy stay cool, Carlos. Alright, here it comes." I stepped back and let Riot take over. Carlos didn't even know Riot's horn from my fist when it hit his palm. It wasn't until his feet made contact with Riot's jaw that Carlos realized that he'd been duped.
To his credit, Carlos held on for about eight meters before he tumbled off of Riot's head.
"Not bad. Now we've got to work on that jump." Carlos rolled on the ground coughing.
"Come on, Carlos. You're just winded. Get up and try again." Carlos struggled to his feet.
"Permission to speak freely?" Carlos groaned. I smiled at him.
"I'm looking forward to it."
"You're such a fucking bastard, Zane." Carlos wheezed. That got me laughing.
…
"Amber, where we at?" I asked as I knelt down next to her under the relay. She didn't answer me.
"Warrant Officer Hail…" Danger voice.
"I'm a little fucked up right now, okay?!" Amber stuck her head out of the mess of wires. She was still crying. I started laughing, causing her no undue stress.
"You're not dying tonight, Amber. Unless you keep using that tone with me." I growled, cutting my chuckles short.
"Yeah, right. The Beedrill totally won't squeeze through those holes and kill us all in our sleep!" Amber no longer cared about my threats. She really did think that she was going to die tonight.
"Beedrill aren't nocturnal. The only bug I'd be worried about is the Venonats, but it ain't their season yet." I stated calmly. Amber froze when she looked at me.
"You're so fucking dumb, Amber. The worst we're gonna get hit with tonight is the rain. You need to use your fucking head before you panic. I wanted you to sleep outside tonight so that I didn't have to deal with your dumbass. Not because I wanted you dead. I'd slit your fucking throat if I wanted you dead." I informed Amber. She looked up at me as if I was spewing bullshit.
"...And that speech about one us dying, and the others watching?" Amber retched. I sighed and shook my head.
"I'd prefer if you didn't have to learn that under my Command. But the possibility exists, so I want you all to be prepared for it." I knelt down, and pulled a pair of pliers from Amber's kit, before wedging myself next to her under the relay.
"Death is a fact of life, Amber. Even you should know that. But extinction-? That's not something you've ever thought about, is it?" I asked, as I began to work on the relay's wiring. Amber just watched me.
"You'll learn. Sooner or later. I don't really have much that I fear losing. No family, no kids, no wife, not much of anything." I stated the facts in a weary voice. It didn't really trouble me anymore, talking about my lack of a family. At one point in my life, it used to break me just thinking about it.
"But when I see kids smiling up at their parents… When I see couples being wed… When I see men, just talking philosophy on their barstools… I know what I'm ready to die for. I may have joined the Rangers thinking only of my Black Beret… But I learned something along the way. And on that list I just mentioned? The list of things that I would willingly die for?" I stopped stripping the wires of their insulation, and turned to look at Amber's mystified eyes.
"The Rangers are on that list, Amber. They are my family. They share my cause. I've never known such a calling like the Rangers. The Call of Brotherhood. The Call of Mankind." I sighed, and exchanged my pliers for some port-clamps.
"I used to want a Black Beret, because I thought that I'd look badass sexy in one. Now I want one because it shows how far I'm willing to go for mankind… And just how much the Rangers mean to me." I clamped in a set of cables. Amber was still silently watching me.
"It's the Colonel's hope for all of you… To realize that our mission isn't just limited to securing the G.I. bill... We're actually here to save people, Amber. And I like that." Amber was looking at me oddly, as if she didn't recognise me at all. As if I was speaking a different language, a language that she could understand on some primal level.
"Now are you going to fucking help me finish this fucking relay, OR NOT?!" I threw a pair of pliers at Amber when I shouted at her.
Way to make the moment complete.
…
"Okay, Echo. Consider this a Safari Drill. We'll have one mon and Trainer on watch at all times. There are six of us, so we'll break it up into hour-and-half watches. I'll take first watch if no one else has any objections. I wouldn't worry about stupid things like mon getting into the compound. Nothing small enough to squeeze through the mesh's cracks can scale the walls or do serious damage to us, other than the Beedrill, and they call it quits at night. So despite the dread of dying you're all probably experiencing, the likelihood is nearly nonexistent." I told Echo Squad over dinner. Pete claimed that he cook, but boiled cabbage heads and scrambled eggs did not strike me as a proper meal. So I was substituting with a Grambar as well.
"What do we do if a Beedrill does get through?" Carlos asked hesitantly. I smiled.
"Seeing as this is a Safari Drill, we'll use the standard means. Shake your Squadmates awake, whisper the situation in their ear. Have your mon silently engage the threat while you quietly raise the alert." I interwove my fingers, and a look of infinite patience overcame my exterior.
"The idea is to neutralize the threat without making enough noise to draw the attention of other threats. That is Safari 101. Discretion saves lives." I explained.
"So you think that we'll be okay?" Pete asked through a mouthful of dripping cabbage. I chuckled.
"When it is Amber's turn to watch, I'm effectively putting my life in her hands. And you know what? I'm going to sleep soundly despite her incompetence." I replied. Even Amber looked at me weirdly.
"If Bastard says we'll be fine, we'll be fine." Brenda spoke up. I did feel slightly nervous when she said that.
"Sooner or later, Echo… We'll be out in the Frontier for weeks at a time. You will learn not to fear these trivial details. Like the Colonel asked me to, I'm breaking you in slowly. Which brings me to my next point." I looked at Erin.
"With the activation of our Communications array, Frontier Charlie is effectively an active Outpost. It still needs some fortifications to the outer defenses, but we can't do that without the required parts. Those parts have to be trekked in. We can't fly a new mesh into the Frontier. It's not feasible in the slightest. And if you got a look at our mesh's perimeter… You'd see the rusty cracks buckling the entire structure from the foundations. We can't fix that. We need a new mesh." I stated. Everybody was looking at me, trying to figure out where I was going with this.
"So we are going to have to open up a road to the M-straight." I explained. That made everybody stop chewing.
"It will take years to complete a road through the Frontier. So we're gonna start now. As in tomorrow." I dropped that bombshell with a smile. Silverware hit the longtable, dropped from numb hands.
"Now Frontier Charlie once had a road leading to it. That got completely destroyed by both time and the mon. We cannot reuse that path. The topography isn't even the same, for God's sake. So Command gave us a brilliant solution." Nobody had resumed eating yet. I couldn't help but chuckle.
"Frontier Delta is twenty-one klicks north of us. Across the Long Sway. All level, mostly cleared land. It's pretty much a plain. Saves us a huge amount of work clearing the forest for a road. Now Frontier Delta does have its own road. We link up with Frontier Delta, and we have access to the M-straight through their road. Oh yeah, I should also mention how the linked Outposts could be useful in the event that either Frontier Charlie or Frontier Delta require reinforcements from one another. So the Rangers stand to gain one hell of foothold in the Frontier by establishing this road. One might even suggest a permanent foothold. Tomorrow, our Navigations expert is going to be taking a trip up into the Long Sway for intel on the landscape. And all of Echo is going to be accompanying our Navigations expert in order to protect his ass." I laid out one of the highpoints on Echo's mission into sector Charlie. No one was very happy about it.
"You gotta be fucking-"
"-Where the hell are we going to-"
"-Is Command insane!?"
"-We're not Vets! They can't honestly-"
"-Please tell me this is-"
"Riot, shut em all up." I ordered. Riot roared so damn loudly that it took a moment for my ears to stop ringing. Once I could hear myself speaking, I continued.
"This is our mission, Rangers. Ill prepared though we may be, we are plunging into the Brink, and then we are returning home, safe and sound. End of story." I stated calmly.
"Zane… If I may?" Brenda was asking me real politely. I turned to her with a pleasantly intrigued look on my face.
"How do you feel about our chances in the Long Sway?" I froze. Of all the questions she had to ask…
"I said it before, Echo. This is our mission. And we will see it done." I said it all in a calm voice, putting my hands below the table in order to hide my shaking.
The Long Sway. I'd only been there twice before. Both times I'd watched a Ranger die.
I was positive that tomorrow…
Somebody in Echo was going to die.
…
"Why are you setting up your kit so close to me, Bren?" I grumbled as she tossed down her bag an inch away from mine.
"Is it a problem?" Brenda asked, nervously.
"Do you snore?" I asked. Brenda giggled.
"I don't think so."
"Well than I don't think that it's a problem. Do you want second watch?" I asked, unconcerned. Brenda nodded.
"Fine, I'll wake you up when it's time." I sat down on my sleeping bag. I stared up at the sky, and watched the smoke rings left behind by the Evening Chorus fade away. I'd used the regular flare gun for Frontier Charlie's role in the Evening Chorus. Vauban's flare had too long a burn time, and I didn't want to stir up the Frontier tonight.
"Zane…" I swallowed. I hated when Brenda called me that. It always made me feel guilty.
"What is bothering you?" Brenda asked. I shrugged.
"Nothing. Except that everybody else is still taking their sweet fucking time washing up." I growled. Brenda chuckled.
"I think they're just nervous." Brenda murmured.
"No shit."
I sounded irritated. I hoped it would throw Brenda off.
"...Zane?"
No fucking luck.
"...Brenda, you don't want to know." I answered. But Brenda wasn't letting me off just for that.
"It has to do with our mission tomorrow, doesn't it?" Brenda asked. I sighed silently. I needed to keep my mouth shut. They didn't need-
"...I'm afraid, Bren. You know what that means, don't you?" I don't know why I told Brenda that.
"Zane, I trust you. If you tell me that everything is going to be okay-"
"-Then I would be lying to you, Bren." I cut her off. I stared at the far wall, though I wasn't really seeing it. Something was bubbling up. Something was coming out. Something that I had a duty to keep from my Squad.
Doubt.
"-I just… Can't shake this gut feeling. I know what it means. I… I hope I'm wrong, but…" I was gritting my teeth against the fear.
Brenda's arms fell around my shoulders, and her head rested between my shoulderblades.
"...You remember what I said earlier today… About a lesson that we could only learn, watching a Ranger die?" I swallowed hard.
"-I learned that lesson in the Long Sway, Brenda…" Her arms tightened on me.
"Zane... don't worry." Brenda whispered. I fought myself back under control. This entire day had been torturing me. I'd been getting soft all damn day. Ever since the Colonel told me in a private communique that we were accelerating our advance. I thought that I had months to prepare them for the Long Sway, but on our the third day in sector Charlie…
"I can't lose one of my Rangers, Bren. I can't." I felt the tears pooling, and I cursed myself for letting them get that far. I had been warned about this. I had been trained to resist this. My first Command was going to be an emotional trial for me. It was for every Squad leader. These are my units. My responsibility. I have to protect them-
-But I wasn't suppose to.
Squad leaders were just intended to marshal their units. Not protect their Squad. That wasn't their purpose.
The final mission statement of the Echo Commander who came before me proved that.
The Echo Commander had to divide his Squad based off of their assets, and deploy them where they were the most effective. It was a game, turning men into chess pieces. A ploy that quantified a man into his most basic value. What a man could contribute, and what a cause could afford to lose.
Nothing else.
The former Echo Commander had played that game with his men.
And in doing so, he killed them.
The Rangers who died on the otherside of these walls… They weren't deployed there because Perimeter Defense was their strongest suit.
They were put outside the walls, because they were the least important pieces.
The Echo Commander used them as a distraction, so that he could get his big pieces into position.
And those big pieces...
"When he died… Did he wonder if he was going to hell for killing his men?" I fought the rising panic. Brenda held me all the tighter. She might not have known what I was talking about, but she could feel me breaking in her arms.
"Zane… Don't worry. I'll be with you tomorrow. I'll be right beside you the whole way. I'll be strong for you." Brenda's soft words pushed me out of her arms. I took several steadying breaths, before I got myself under control again.
"I'll wake you for the second watch. You get some sleep while you can." The Fucking Bastard ordered Brenda away from him with his harsh tone.
I could not doubt. I had to succeed.
I could not doubt.
I could not doubt…
…
I kicked Carlos in his side. The Ranger scrambled out of his sleeping bag, expecting an attack.
"Morning dumbass." I threw down a plate of food on his lap.
"Don't worry. Pete was cooking with supervision. I almost wanted to call the mission off until we all stopped farting." I explained to my nonplussed number two. Carlos snorted.
"Amber! Wakey-wakey." I threw one of Carlos's boots at her. She jumped awake, panic first as well.
"Look at that. The ginger Sudowoodo rises." I mocked Amber from my lofty position above Carlos.
"Well, come on. With your two late asses counted for, that means all of Echo lived through a night in the Frontier. Whooptifuckingdoo for Echo. Now get your fucking ugly mugs down in the bunker and cleaned up. We're going to start on that mission debriefing shortly. Report to the longtable as soon as you're both ready." I left my two strangling Rangers in the morning sun. It was O'-nine-hundred hours. I'd let them sleep in late. Essential personnel, chiefly myself and Erin, woke up at the standard time. Erin and I had thrown most of what we needed together, but we were waiting for the last of Echo to join us for the final stage in the planning.
"Okay, here is our Frontier Charlie." I pointed out the marker on the map laid across the longtable.
"And here is Frontier Delta." I jabbed my finger at the point of reference.
"And all of this-" I waved my hand in circular pattern spanning roughly fourteen klicks in distance, according to the map's scale.
"-is the Long Sway." All of Echo was leaning in now. The Long Sway didn't look like much on the map. Just a massive leveled field where the Viridian Forest had simply backed away. A couple of green timbered islands stood out amongst the expanse of white paper, but they were few and far between.
"Now, the Long Sway is bordered by the Sung River on the west flank. It's a small canyon of sorts, steep sides, whitewater river at the bottom. Now the Sung River has three bends. This is Sung Minor-"
Point.
"-Sung Ursa."
Point.
"-And this big one right here is just called the Sung Bend." I indicated the largest bend with another jab.
"Now for obvious reasons, we want to avoid the Sung River when building our road. We don't want to build a bridge out in the Frontier, that's just asking for the mon to rip it down. Erin and I have already charted a course up into the Long Sway. It meanders a bit, but it keeps us on a covered route. We'll always be in sight of a treeline, which could beneficial, given that such a border is rarely patrolled by the big mon. Forest mon don't like being exposed to the open sky, and plains mon don't like the claustrophobic settings provided by the treeline. So our route is strategic. It does hug the Sung River in some parts, but the-"
"Hey Zane?" Carlos cut me off. I looked up, feeling slightly pissed for having been interrupted.
"What's going on?" Carlos sounded worried.
"I'm trying to lay out a fucking route for us, Carlos. What do you think is going on?" I growled. Carlos licked his lips.
"It's just that-"
Don't you fucking say it.
"-You seem a little… uptight." Carlos finished lamely.
"Uptight… Hmm… And interesting way of putting it." I pretended to think deeply about it.
"You know, I wonder… Why would I be uptight right now?" My voice dipped into the danger setting. Carlos swallowed. He knew what was coming. Everybody saw it coming.
"MAYBE I'M FUCKING UPTIGHT BECAUSE YOU FUCKING WALKOUTS ARE FUCKING INTERRUPTING ME!" I roared. Nobody jumped. Nobody even flinched. I was losing it.
My composure.
"-Okay, we're gonna try again. The Sung River. We're gonna hug it some of the way. It presents us with a bit of a double edged sword. One, we can't cross it, so If we need to run, due west is out of the question. On the other hand, we don't have to cover our west side. The benefit counters the cost. Now we are aiming to go about midway into the Long Sway-"
I carried on about the terrain, approaching it from every angle, analyzing and coss-analyzing every possible avenue open to us. Echo didn't have too much to add in this regard. Erin and I had studied our selected course cold-shit. We knew where we were going. Now we needed to plan for what we should expect on our way there.
"Mon. We need to discuss the mon." I clapped my hands together, and pulled out several reference sheets.
"Now the Nidorino are the primary threat. The packs are still very active, but I've got even worse news-" I sighed and pulled out a flagged sheet.
"Nidoking. Frontier Delta confirms that there are still three active 'rape gangs' in the vicinity between sector Charlie and sector Delta. Two of these Packs have already killed Trainers. One of the aforementioned, Pack K-31, just killed two Vets last week. Command has sent Delta Squad and Alpha Squad into the Long Sway, but they returned back to Prime after finding dittly. So all three Nidoking Packs are presumed active and their whereabouts are unknown. Now I need to enlighten you on our Nidoking engagement contingency." I tossed down the referance sheet, and leaned over the table.
"One, a group of Nidoking hunting in a Pack is not something that we can engage."
"Two, their noses are almost as sharp as a Growlithe's, so they'll smell us coming around the same time that Cortez smells them. Or worse, they'll even stalk our tracks, giving us no forewarning whatsoever."
"Three, they're not like the females. Nidoqueens will give you a warning bellow right before they kill you. The males will give you a warning bellow right after they kill you."
"Four, if we have to call for reinforcements because of a Nidoking Pack, we will effectively be asking Command to avenge our deaths."
"Five, start praying that we don't run into a Nidoking Pack right now, because if we do, the mission is just as fucked as we are."
I pulled up another sheet. Echo was looking pretty pale.
"Now I have confidence, that the more common threat; the Nidorino Packs, are something that we can handle. They're fast, but stupid. They'll try to hit you with their horn, and dump a load of lethal venom in you. The best strategy for engaging an actively hostile Nidorino is to goad it into charging, evading, and then running it through with your knife when it tries to correct itself. Avoid the horn, just dodge the initial strike and aim for the back. Nidorinos puss out if they get hurt enough. Killing them is not mandatory for victory." I tossed down that sheet, and lifted another.
"Beedrill. Nasty as sin, but the easiest species to avoid, as well as being the easiest species to handle in a group. All we'll need to do, is what I mentioned before. Light up the plains, and watch them kill themselves flying into the flames. Stupid fuckers like light, but hate fire. Too bad for them, they like the light more than they hate the fire. Moving on."
"Arbok. Rare as hell, thank God. We can handle an Arbok pretty easily, but if anyone gets bit, you're dead. End of story. Don't get bit. One of these ugly fuckers shows up, it gets the kill-it-kill-it-kill-it-kill-it panic treatment. We hit it with everything we have, and put it down as fast as possible."
"Ekans. Minor concern. We hear the rattle, we get the fuck out. They're not as aggressive as the Arboks, so we will take them up on their warning."
"Ursaring. Not a common sight in the plains, but way too dangerous to not consider. These guys can kill a Nidoking well before dying from the Nidoking's venom. Slow, pretty damn tough, and powerful as hell. Evil attitudes. Aggressive as fuck. Claws the size of bananas, and teeth that can chomp through 22-gauge steel plate. We see one of these things coming for us, Riot is coming out as a priority. As soon as the Ursaring is on the ground, we hit it HARD. I don't want it getting back up. You let me do the finisher if the mon can't. Vauban can pin one down for a few seconds, and then I'll move in to ventilate his kidneys."
"Tauros. There are only a few of these guys in Viridian, normally moving in herds across the plains. They'll leave us alone if we leave them alone. Leave the fucking Tauros alone."
"Fearow. Nasty bastards with that beak, but one knife stroke will take their heads clean off. One of these fuckers starts harassing us, we'll cook his ass for dinner."
"Raticate. These guys can gnaw your leg off in as little as three seconds. Small, fast, and delicate. They'll normally only attack if you step on their nests first, so try to avoid doing that. If you see what looks like a mound of hay and random shit, do not kick it."
"Swalot. Minor concern. If you see a purple puddle on the ground, don't step on it. Otherwise you'll have to hold your breath for about a half-an-hour while we cut it open trying to get your ass out."
"That about covers all the indigenous species. Everything listed is a Delta-Two or higher, so they all have the capacity to kill humans quite quickly. Lets try to keep that from happening. Anyone have a species that they're concerned about? Pete! Spit it out."
"Pidgeotto?" Pete asked. I snorted.
"Throw a rock at it, watch it flee. Any real concerns? Amber?"
"What about Kangaskhan? I know there's no-"
"Oh please, Amber. Quit wasting my time. There have been sightings of Kangaskhan in Viridian for hundreds of years and not one credible report. There are no fucking Kangaskhans in Viridian. And even if there were, I'd be about as worried about them as the Tauros. Carlos, you next."
"Stantler."
"Good call, Number two. Yeah, Stantler are not too terribly common during the Nido season, but if we do come across one, we are engaging to kill. They are territorial and ripe with attitude. Do not get stomped on, those hooves will break more than bones. Brenda?"
"Sandslash?"
"Fuck, I can't believe that I forgot about those. Thank you, Brenda. Yes, Sandslash. These guys are minorly territorial, and all about the ambush. If their first strike misses, they will withdraw. They won't chase unwilling opponents very far, but if that first attack hits you… Don't let those claws hit you. They'll punch right through your abdomen and then eviscerate you with a twitch. Look for dirt mounds, and AVOID them. We don't want to piss off a Sandslash. Anything else? Erin, you got anything?"
"Jigglypuff?"
"Don't you even fucking joke around with me. We better not fucking run into a psychotic Jigglypuff. One of those fucking things will put us to sleep before we can even draw our knives, and then we'll be lucky if we still have our natural skin and internal organs when we wake up. I do not want to wear Amber's face inside out for the rest of my newly-unnatural life. Do not jinx us, Erin."
...
"Okay, that is the mon addressed. Now we need discuss kit loadouts. We're all carrying anti-venom, and booster tablets. There is too much risk of poisoning posed by the Nidos for us not to pack extra anti-venom. Brenda is going to be carrying a fully decked out medical kit. If we need to perform an amputation out on the plains, we have both the skills and tech required to do so. None of us are going to be wearing a full hard kit. Too much weight, and unnecessary for our avoidance and flight approach. That said, we will be putting on leg and arm protection. It will keep a Nidorino's horn from penetrating our extremities. Beyond those specifics, we're carrying normal expedition rigs, and splitting the weight evenly between every unit. We will be carrying enough food for three days, just in case something happens. But we are coming back to Frontier Charlie tonight, so that we can take part in the Evening Chorus. We're not dawdling on the plains, Echo. We're getting basic info for Command, and then we're heading back home. We will be going about fourteen klicks deep, bare minimum. Now go pack your rigs. I'll meet you all out by the gate." I gave the order, and began to fold up the map. Echo slowly proceeded to Armory in order to pick out their body armor. Brenda, Pete, and me had already loaded most of everyone's kits. We had to split up some of Erin's instruments among the rest of the unit, just because Erin was gonna need a lot of them. Command had hopes that by the end of this mission, we'd have enough info to decide on whether or not to proceed with the Trans Delta-Charlie road.
I wondered why the Colonel had decided to accelerate our advance. I had a sneaking suspicion that it might have had something to do with the slaying of the Nidoqueen. Wiping out a Delta-Three on our first day in the Frontier might have given the Colonel a bit too much confidence. I personally did not feel that Echo was ready for the Long Sway. Though truth be told, the Long Sway wasn't any more dangerous than the Frontier five-hundred meters beyond Frontier Charlie's walls, so technically, it was just another expedition into hostile land.
But for me… The Long Sway was a land of foul memories. And I hoped that it was just those memories upsetting my gut.
Brenda and Erin were both beside me when I left the bunker. I called on Cortez as soon as we made the gate. Roughly ten minutes later, the rest of Echo joined us. And as nervous as Echo was to see that gate open, it was nothing compared to the dread I felt when we finally left the trees and stared across the tall grasslands of the Long Sway.
…
"It's so quiet." Brenda whispered when we had passed about a klick deep into Long Sway. I kicked a Nincada out of the mud, and stomped on its fourth-meter wide rocky head for good measure. Then I let it go. The giant bug was wounded but still very much alive. It scurried off into the grass, hissing and spitting the whole way.
"Better?" I asked my startled unit. They had no idea that all the weird muddy bumps we'd been walking past were sleeping mon.
"Nincada are of minor concerns. Timid as they get, but at night they have a nasty gimmick. We don't want to be sleeping anywhere near them, unless you're fond of waking up to a proboscis sucking the blood right out of your heart." I stepped over the next Nincada I found. I didn't need to endure myself to every one of them. For whatever reason, my Squad was being really careful around the muddy bumps now.
Cortez paused ahead. I caught up to my hound as quickly as I could.
"Smell a threat?" I asked Cortez. Cortez was too busy whiffing the air to give me the signal. After a moment Cortez pivoted eastwards, lifted his paw, and dropped it instantly while raising his tail.
"Plot a route around them, Cortez. Whatever it is, I don't want to piss it off." Cortez complied, but he seemed hesitant about our new route. He kept on stopping to sniff at the ground.
I wasn't bitching. Cortez was our best tool out here, and he was doing a bang up job getting us through the Frontier. I soon found out why Cortez had been taking this new route slowly.
"We're walking through a Swalot field." I informed my Squad casually. I'd just seen one of the purple oozes myself, and then noticed another three close to the first one. Everybody was watching their feet now. Truth be told, I was comforted by Cortez's way of heading. If something was following us, it would have to navigate through this field of leaping stomachs like Cortez was. But Cortez was a Pathfinder. He had not only the devices to do the job, but he had undergone a training regimen that nature could never provide.
In short, this Swalot field presented us with an advantage.
"Do not step in any purple shit. Those things are a bitch to cut open. I do not want to end up smelling of Swalot because I had to save one of your dumbasses from getting digested." I grumbled to my Squad. My cold attitude might have seemed callous, but by implying that we were not currently in any real danger, I could keep my Squad from panicking.
"Keep up the good work, Cortez. Two more klicks in, and then we need to find a place for Erin to set-up shop."
Cortez found us a Swalot free rise two klicks later. Erin set up his equipment, and the rest of the unit kept watch for any movement in the tall grass.
"How many more of these stops do we have to make?" Pete asked in shaky voice.
"Just two more, Pete. One at the eight klick point, and another at the fourteen klick point." I answered softly. Pete swallowed.
"So far just Nincadas and Swalots. Did you mark down their positions for Command, Erin?" I turned to our navigations expert, who was busy trying to calculate the rise of the plain.
"Yeah, I put them down on the map. Are we going to have to blowtorch them later?" Erin asked. I just snorted.
"Not Echo's jurisdiction. Command will leave that up to the Hades Division. They'll want to prioritize the Nincada, just because those fuckers will tear up a road with all their burrowing." I replied. Carlos looked over at me.
"We've been stationary for about a half-an-hour now. How much longer is this gonna take?" Carlos asked.
"Erin? How much longer do you need?" I asked.
"Just let me finish laying out the yaw, and then I'll leave all the final calculations for the safety of Frontier Charlie. Another five minutes is all I need." Erin answered. I nodded, and turned to my Squad.
"Pack up anything you unloaded. We book it in five."
The way towards Marker two was thankfully uneventful. We stumbled across a lone Nidorina with an early litter of Nidorans, probably sired by a Nidoking. We let them go. Neither the mama nor the pups wanted anything to do with us, and that was just fine by me.
"They're kinda cute at that skittish age, aren't they?" I asked Brenda as one of the female Nidorans tumbled onto her side, after slipping in her haste to get away from us. Brenda swallowed. I knew what she was remembering in regards to me and Nidorans. Oh well. Just another part of wearing the uniform.
"Come on, Echo. This show is over."
We didn't run into anything else after that, though Cortez had to adjust his heading twice because of detected threats. It wasn't until we actually made the eight klick point that we had our first hostile encounter.
It was just a Fearow, and he made the mistake of buzzing over before attacking. We had plenty of time to form up and draw knives before he came back for a strafing run. The Fearow got one missed lunge in before Carlos's knife slit the bird from sternum to rectum. The fucker crash landed, and flopped to his feet, before flying off; moaning. We didn't pursue. There was no reason to. The Fearow wasn't gonna live for much longer with half of his insides hanging out.
"Nicely done, Carlos. Keep up the good work, Infantry." I congratulated my number two for his initiative, and a shaken Carlos was left grinning like he'd just slain a Delta-Three. I was not going to shoot him down in his moment of triumph. Carlos earned his position as Echo's current hero, and I was not about to kill that morale boost.
"Well, now that the Fearow has been dealt with, you wanna get set-up, Erin?" Erin's only answer was to drop a tripod, and wave Pete over to record his numbers.
That was when I noticed Cortez. He was giving me the follow signal.
"Hey, Bird-Slayer." I mocked Carlos when I called out to him.
"Yes, Bastard?" Carlos asked. I jerked my head over to Cortez.
"The mutt and I are gonna go do a quick sweep of the perimeter. You stay guard over the rest of unit. We're not going far, so don't start crying." My belittling was doing its job just dandy. A beaming Carlos gave me the yes-sir, before I headed off with Cortez.
"So what did you find, dog?" I asked as Cortez led me away from the Squad. His answer came soon enough.
"-Holy shit..."
...
"Hey, Echo." I came back to the Squad barely three minutes later.
"Guess what Cortez found." I said, tossing said find on the ground. Everybody backed up quick.
"It's dead, Echo. If you couldn't tell…" I was fighting back a chuckle. Amber overcame the shock, and spoke up first.
"Is that- Is that a Nidoking?" Amber whimpered. I laughed.
"It's a Nidoking's head, Amber. Just the head." I corrected.
It was just a head.
"You know what this means, Rangers?" I asked, feeling better already. Nobody could pry their eyes away from that rotting head.
"One less Nidoking to worry about, and if this sucker was part of a Pack, that Pack is no longer organised. Meaning that they either disbanded or killed each other off. Which means one less Pack of Delta-Threes for us to worry about." I informed my unit with closest thing I could display to joy right now.
Smugness.
"Its horn is broken…" Pete murmured, I looked back at the head. I hadn't really paid too much attention to it before, but now that Pete mentioned it…
"That is kinda odd…" I muttered. Everybody looked up at me.
"Why is it odd?" Brenda asked, growing worried. I just shrugged.
"There isn't much in Viridian that can snap a Nidoking's horn. I mean not unless they're trying to snap that horn off, but… Mon just don't typically try crippling shit like that…" Now I was regarding the head with suspicion.
"It might have broken off in a fight, but again… What could snap a horn that can punch through stone…" I swallowed. There was something fishy about this head.
"Ursaring?" Carlos asked. I worked my mouth.
"It is possible. Ursaring are known for ripping limbs off of Nidoking, so maybe…" I pondered on it.
"Do they also rip heads off?" Erin asked. I bounced on the heels of my feet.
"...Not that I've ever heard of. This guy looks he went through the mill before his head came off. Look at him. The entire left side of his face is chewed to shit…" I muttered.
"That abrasion runs straight down from the left ear to the throat, and continues on past the stump. That means the wound was inflicted before decapitation, and judging from the condition of the abrasion and the stump… They were inflicted around the same time." Brenda gave us her medical evaluation. Now even I was feeling uneasy.
"...What could fuck up a Nidoking so fucking completely?" I muttered.
"Maybe its Pack?" Carlos threw in. I shook my head.
"There would have been a corpse to go along with this head. Nidoking gouge each other to death, not dismember." I kicked the head over, looking for some kind of clue.
"...It wasn't ripped off…" Brenda sounded like she was going to be sick. She was looking at the same marks that I was.
"-It was chewed off." I hissed. Everybody looked up at me. I was circling that head, trying to add up whatever I was missing.
"There isn't a damn thing in Viridian's roster that could do this…" I murmured. The Rangers had been fighting everything in Viridian long enough to know what killed in what way. Nothing I knew of could do this.
"Look at the size of those puncture marks. Big teeth made those. Big teeth means big mon. Nidoking is Viridian's biggest mon… What the hell killed this thing?" I was struggling for an answer. I just couldn't find one.
"Maybe a Trainer flew over the walls and brought along a big mon for a Safari?" Erin suggested.
"...Hmm. Wouldn't be the first time something like that has happened… Cortez? What do you think?" I turned to my silent Hunter-Killer for a second opinion. Maybe his nose had picked up something that our eyes had missed.
Cortez raised his right paw, and held it steady.
Then he dropped it.
"Cortez says 'no,' Erin. Good theory though." I looked at my dog curiously.
"Cortez? Is this something that we need to follow up on?" I asked. A look of fear overcame my dog, damn near choking me. But Cortez raised a steady paw.
And flicked it twice.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! You are not letting Cortez make that call, are you Bastard?" Amber was on her feet and booking it right for me.
"Amber, this is big. I suspect it, and Cortez just confirmed it. The Rangers need to know what is out here. This could affect a lot more than just a road." I said it straight.
"Bastard, whatever is out here, it made potage out of a Goddamn Nidoking! And you want to go looking for it?" Carlos put himself right next to Amber. I reached for my radio.
"Command, this is Echo Commander. We just located a Nidoking's head eight klicks deep into the Long Sway, four klicks east of the Sung Ursa. The body is no where in sight. Markings on the back of the neck suggest mastication. Horn is snapped in two. Echo is willing to investigate. Awaiting your decision. Over." I reported into my radio.
"-You're fucking crazy!"
"Echo Commander, this is Command, standby. Transferring request to Mission Control. Hold location and await Mission Control's decision. Over."
"Roger that, Command. Over."
"Bastard, you are not doing this to us-" My backhand shut Amber up quick. Everybody stood back. The look in my eye meant that there was no delegation. We were in an a state of emergency right now, and I was not putting up with this Walkout shit. I was showing my Echo the Veteran side of me. The do or die side.
"Echo Commander, this is Mission Control. Bastard, your request has been approved. Find whatever this is, and report its identity and location to Command as soon as it is feasible to do so. Do not engage, I repeat, do not engage. Aerial Units are on standby. We will support Echo if need be, but do be aware… We cannot guarantee intervention. Do you copy, Bastard? Over."
"Loud and clear, Trish. Mission is a go. Echo is heading for the Brink. Keep this channel open to priority hails. Over." I cut the feed and looked up at my unit.
"Echo, we are already in deep. I need your heads clear, right this Goddamn second. We are not engaging a Tango. We are identifying a threat. Silence and awareness is key. Follow my lead, and I will get us all back home safely. Fuck this up, and I cannot guarantee that any one of us are going to survive. You are Walkouts, not Vets. This is why we are going in extra careful." I laid it out for all of them there. Everybody was quaking.
"I'm not going to lie to you, Echo. This is effectively an S-rank mission. Now I have done a hundred-and-seventy-three S-rank missions. You can all draw on my well of experience, or you can bitch and moan about your own inadequacy. Either way, we are going. Now buck up, all of you, and get into formation. Cortez-" I turned from my terrified Squad and faced my reliable hound.
"I want you twenty-meters on pole. Take it slowly. We are not racing for a fire. Echo, fall in. I'm taking point. Carlos you're rear guard. Pete, Amber, you're flank. Erin, Brenda, you're support. Eyes fixed on your fields of vision. Shoulder tap alerts. Keep those eyes open, and those brains cooking. Get those pokeballs positioned favorably. Hands on knives now." I was barking orders in the most serious voice any of my Unit had heard me use yet. They knew better than to question or delay. Echo formed up according to my specifications, and every knife's hilt was grasped.
"Cortez, take pole." I ordered, and my hound sniffed out a wary twenty meters.
"Advance, Echo." I took the first firm step, and a nervous falling of feet followed me.
…
Cortez was covering ground quickly. Knowing his level of thoroughness, I was left to assume he had a strong lead, and there wasn't much around to warrant slowing us down.
This was bad news. Whatever we were following had either killed or scared off all other forms of competition. And after seeing its handiwork regarding Nidoking…
...Yeah, we were taking it careful.
Two klicks into the pursuit, and we began to pick up a foul smell. Rot. Death. Something had died nearby.
As it turned out…
-Somethings.
We walked right past half a Nidorina, and not even forty meters beyond that, we found the rattletails of roughly nine Ekans.
Nothing other than their rattletails.
"Something is very hungry…" I murmured when we came across a Swalot, mauled to death. You had to be fucking crazy desperate to try and eat one of those nasty things. Whatever mauled the Swalot had learned why you didn't want to eat a Swalot, just a bit too late.
Too late for the Swalot, that is.
The further we followed Cortez in, the more dead and dismembered things we came across. I froze solid when I saw what I thought was Nidoking laying in the grass.
Then I saw that it was just a Nidoking, minus an arm and torso.
"We are walking through somebody's larder. Nothing leaves food out to spoil like this…" I said when we trapsed through a bloody mess of feathers. The biggest pieces, the beak and talons, informed us that it used to be a Fearow.
"Can you smell that?" I asked Brenda, who stood right behind me. Brenda was trying not to gag on the stench. Their was a tinge of body odor and excrement fouling the air along with the rot.
"We're getting close…"
Cortez came to a dead stop, just twenty meters ahead of me, and hunkered low in the slowest means that I'd ever seen a mon use. I swallowed hard. Something was wrong.
"Give me ten seconds, Echo. I am going up to Cortez. Proceed to my location if I fail to give any indication not to follow." I whispered back to my unit.
"Carlos, you take over point. Erin, you're rear guard. Stay low and silent." I crouched down and moved to Cortez's location, as quickly and as quietly as I could. After I had crossed the better part of fifteen meters, I did notice something odd about my dog.
Cortez was shaking like a leaf.
"...Cortez…" I whispered his name just as I put a steady hand on his rump. The pooch twitched and swallowed. I moved up to a clearer vantage point.
Then I heard the breathing. I froze solid. I just listened. Slow, deep intakes. Heavy, quick outbreaths. Long silent pauses in between.
Snoring.
I looked over the brush that Cortez was using for cover.
And then I felt my bowels loosen.
Thirty meters ahead.
Sleeping off a feast.
Laying down in pile of rotting Nidokings.
Oh.
God.
No.
"Bastard-" My hand almost took Carlos to the ground when it covered his mouth. All of Echo was right behind him.
I'd forgotten to signal.
We needed to retreat.
Now.
"What is it?" Brenda looked at my pale face with a shudder. My mouth was open, and I was panting in long shallow breaths. I closed my mouth and swallowed my dry tongue. Removing my hand from Carlos's face, I fell on my ass.
"We have a Snorlax…" My voice trembled in a whisper.
Everyone one of my Rangers turned fucking white.
…
"You gotta be shitting me…" Carlos sounded like he was gonna puke. My chest was tighter than a nun's pussy.
"...Uhg…" Pete summed up my feelings on the matter quite eloquently.
"...How did it get in Viridian?" Brenda was as white as a sheet.
"Whiteout." I whispered, training taking over for my malfunctioning brain.
"...Whiteout?" Erin choked. My teeth were being ground into dust.
Fucking. Walkouts.
"Absolute silence. No radios, no talking, no farting." I hissed, trying to keep my voice as low as possible.
"Whiteout. Sure. I'll go with that." Amber was seconds away from snapping. So was I. I had the perfect excuse to punch her in the mouth, but if she made so much as a squeak…
We were all dead.
"Amber. Listen. To me. Carefully." The Fucking Bastard was speaking, and all ears were listening.
"I've. Been dying. to slit. your throat. Calm it the fuck down. Or I will. Slit. Your fucking throat." The Fucking Bastard wasn't losing the reigns on this mission. Amber shut her fucking anorexic mouth, and for a solid minute-
-The Whiteout order was observed.
The Snorlax shifted its bulk, and my entire unit jumped. Myself included. False alarm.
Holy fuck. My hands were shaking that much?
"Okay. Here's the plan. We're falling back. Quietly. Nobody touches their radio until we have five klicks between us and the Snorlax. Copy?" I raised two fingers, and angled them sideways, jabbing twice. My unit looked at me, utterly dumbfounded.
Mother. Fucking.
WALKOUTS.
"That's a roger from your asses. Goddamn, I miss working with the Vets…" A shuddering breath met my chattering teeth. The Snorlax burped. It sounded like a snare drum getting hit with a sledgehammer. Only a lot more wet.
"Carlos, you and Pete take point in the retreat. Amber, you're right behind them. Erin, Brenda, you're flank. I'm on the rear. Cortez." I looked from my unit to my stiff and silent hound, feeling so fucking grateful that of all the Growlithes in the world; mine was the quietest.
"Cortez- You find us a quick, quiet, route. I want you ten meters ahead of Carlos. Don't fuck me up, Cortez. I'm counting on you." My harsh whisper triggered something in Cortez's eyes. Had I the state of mind, I might have reflected on it. But when a Snorlax is laying thirty meters due east of your location…
You don't know what the fuck a state of mind is.
"Okay, We're doing it now. Slowly... and quietly..." Cortez took pole, and then Carlos and Pete just about stepped on him initiating the retreat early.
"Give Cortez space, you idiots! Let him find the route before you step on something loud." I damn near pulled out my knife when I hissed those words. I was never going to work with Walkouts again. As soon as we got back to base, I was slitting every one of my squad members' throats. Starting with Amber.
"Okay. Thataboy." Cortez had found us a path, and his stance was telling us to follow.
"Now Carlos. Pete. Start walking." The two walkout Rangers moved towards Cortez as slowly as they could. The rest of us followed.
"Keep going, Cortez. Make me proud." Cortez immediately sniffed out another ten meters.
"Make it thirty meters after this, Cortez." My unit was right on top of him. Cortez waited for us to catch up before he sought us out another silent thirty meters. I could have kissed Cortez with tongue right then. This dog was better than I deserved.
"Okay. We're almost to the trees. Just keep your heads on for-" The wind picked up, and blew in an easterly direction.
"You've got to be fucking-" Everybody looked at me like I was insane. That was my outdoor voice.
The wind. Just my fucking luck.
We heard the grunt. And then we heard the roar. The fucking Snorlax had picked up our scent in his sleep. Thank you, fucking wind.
Dreamy time for the fat fuck was over, and so was our subtle retreat.
"RUN!" I shouted as loudly as I could.
…
You would never believe that an animal that size could move that fast. As far as pokemon are concerned, a Snorlax's speed is classified somewhere between snails and tortoises.
But compared to humans?
We're the fucking amoebas in the speed department.
My first move was to grab Carlos's pokeball. Out came a Siege Class Rhyhorn with enough power to charge straight through a reinforced concrete wall without losing inertia.
"RIOT! ENGAGE TANGO! HEAVY MASS! CHARGE!" It didn't matter that Riot wasn't my mon. He recognised a command when he fucking heard it. To my eternal disgust, that amazing Rhyhorn had been partnered to a Walkout.
Riot didn't waste a fucking second of my life. That Rhyhorn lowered his head with a rumble and broke into a fucking gallop. Two and a half tonnes of angry fucking Rhyhorn barreling straight at a twenty-one tonne Snorlax, just pulling itself to its feet. I knew exactly what was going to happen to Riot when I gave that order.
Riot slammed right into the Snorlax moving at roughly forty klicks an hour. And all it did to the Snorlax was make it belch. The Snorlax got both fat paws on Riot, and in one of the most gruesome and terrifying displays I've seen in the Rangers yet-
That Snorlax picked up Riot like a Goddamn toddler would with a kitten-
-and then he bit that doomed Rhyhorn's fucking head off.
"TRUCK IT RANGERS! MOVE-MOVE-MOVE!" The Snorlax threw Riot's headless thrashing corpse aside. Not good. I needed Riot to buy us more time than that. But the Rhyhorn wasn't going anywhere. And there were six juicy Rangers just a casual stroll away.
My unit went into utter disarray. There wasn't enough wits between us to even figure out how to strike a match.
We were running for our fucking lives, and only one person in our whole unit had enough training to deal with this type of situation.
Vauban was out in a flash, I was barking orders to Cortez to find us a fast fucking route, silence be damned. My Ranger's were getting their asses chewed out for breaking formation, follow that fucking dog and don't fucking stop moving. We hadn't even crossed more than thirty meters before my unit was back in formation and my radio was pressed up against my chin.
"ECHO SQUAD TO COMMAND, WE ARE ENGAGED WITH A DELTA-FIVE, I REPEAT WE ARE ENGAGED WITH A DELTA-FIVE! DO YOU COPY, OVER?!" I couldn't have lowered my voice even if I had wanted to.
"Echo Squad, This is Command. Did you call in a Delta-Five? Confirm, over."
"CONFIRMED, WE ARE CODE RED ACROSS THE BOARD, DELTA-FIVE! BLACK HANDLE! IT'S A SNORLAX COMMAND! OVER!"
"Echo Squad, Confirm Black Handle, over."
"BLACK HANDLE CONFIRMED, COMMAND! FUCK YOU WALKOUT, OVER!" Great. Even the radio operator was a fucking Walkout. Confirm Black Handle my ass. They should've just punched in the requisition when I said "Snorlax."
"Transfering Black Handle request, Echo Squad. Over."
"OH FUCK ME! CORTEZ! WE'RE HEADING FOR THE FUCKING RIVER! ADJUST HEADING! SOUTH EAST! ON THE DOUBLE!" It wasn't Cortez's fault for leading us astray. It was his third day as a Ranger and he was in unfamiliar territory.
And he was being chased by a fucking Snorlax. I almost stopped running cold when I realized that Cortez was still leading us even though he had the speed to save his own skin.
I fucking love my dog.
"Echo Squad, this is the Colonel. Sit-rep Bastard, over."
"COLONEL, THIS IS BASTARD, SIT-REP FUBAR! WE ARE ELEVEN KLICKS NORTH OF FRONTIER CHARLIE, TWO KLICKS EAST OF THE SUNG BEND! COURSE UNKNOWN! WE ARE BEING PURSUED BY A FUCKING SNORLAX, OVER!" Finally, a fucking Ranger was talking to me.
"Listen closely, Bastard. Black Handle is initiated. Blackhats inbound. Team Seven has been deployed from Cerulean. ETA in eighteen minutes. What's your contingency? Over."
The fucking Blackhats. I almost felt a ray of hope shining when I heard that the Blackhats were the ones coming to save our bacon. And then I heard the ETA. We were fucked.
"ANY AVAILABLE UNITS IN OUR SECTOR CAPABLE OF ENGAGING A DELTA-FIVE? REQUESTING ASSIST, OVER!" I don't even know why I asked.
We didn't have a Delta-Five Counter Unit in the entire Viridian/Pewter District. Darwin was the closest thing Viridian had to a D5CU, and that Magikarp still needed to evolve first.
"That's a negative, Bastard. You're on your own. Over."
No. I wasn't on my own. I had five Walkouts running for their fucking lives. My Walkouts. My Unit. My Echo Squad.
My responsibility.
"Copy that, Command. Formulating contingency, over." The Fucking Bastard went into mental overdrive. We had a lead on the Snorlax, but we could barely stay ahead of it. We would be dead on our feet in five minutes if we kept running like this.
"SHED THE FUCKING GEAR, RANGERS! LIGHTEN THE FUCK UP!" My Rangers struggled to loosen their packs as I unfastened mine and lost it like an ex's photo.
Problem. A Snorlax could run at top speed for nine hours straight.
"CORTEZ! PLOT A ROUTE! NEW HEADING! HEAVY FOLIAGE!"
We needed to slow the Snorlax down. We were tiny in comparison to it, so we could slip through the treeline to slow his advance. But not by much.
Trees didn't stop Snorlaxes from killing Rangers.
"VAUBAN, PREP A FLARE!" My little girl was the only thing that I felt I could depend on. She was just as scared as I was, but we had been together through worlds of shit before.
This was just another day in the Ranger Corps for the Fucking Bastard and his little girl.
I heard the most ungodly sound right behind us. Something between a roar and a greasy fart. I turned around and just about shat my pants. The fucking Snorlax was in full view, and now he'd seen us. He dropped to all fours and broke into a fucking charge, his fat rolls flopping off each other in the most disturbing cacophony to ever spite human ears.
"OH FUCK ME! RANGERS, FULL FUCKING SPEED!" I put down a new level of adrenaline fueled velocity, and my unit answered in kind.
"CORTEZ! CAN YOU SMELL BEEDRILL?!" The hound actually stopped running to give me the signal.
Cortez… You are so much more than I deserve.
"FIND ME A FUCKING HIVE, FULL TILT!" Cortez put down his own speed, and left us in the fucking dust.
"BRING THEM TO ME, CORTEZ! MAKE IT FAST!" I had a plan. A dangerous plan. But when you've got a Snorlax on your ass, suicide is considered a fucking desirable option.
"Echo Squad, this is the Colonel, respond, respond! Over!"
"This is Bastard to the Colonel, we are alive and flying! What's the ETA on those Blackhats? Over."
"They're fifteen minutes out, Bastard. You had better have a handle on this! What's your plan of action? Over." Fifteen minutes? Only three minutes had passed?
Those three fucking minutes felt like a Goddamn eternity.
"TELL THEM THEY'RE GONNA BE LATE TO THE PARTY! WE ARE PISSING OFF THE NEIGHBORHOOD! OVER!"
"Say again, Bastard? Repeat, over." I managed a ragged laugh. Then I heard the howl. Cortez was coming back to me. And he was bringing reinforcements. Now I was smiling.
"WE ARE STARTING A FUCKING FEUD! BEEDRILL VERSUS SNORLAX! BASTARD IS SHAKING THE CRADLE! OVER!"
…
Beedrill. You know that they don't feel fear, right? It's one of the reasons they're such a pain in the ass. Individual Beedrill have absolutely no sense of self preservation. They only live to die for the hive. Beedrills are one of the most common threats the Rangers have to face in Viridian. They're absolutely everywhere, packing a nasty attitude, and they've got themselves three real big stingers to back that attitude up. Those stingers are so big that humans generally don't even have to worry about the venom.
Getting impaled by a Beedrill's twin needles will generally finish you off pretty quickly. And they don't jab just once. You could be cold dead for two hours straight, and the Beedrill that had killed you would still be turning your deceased ass into swiss cheese for another two hours after that.
Beedrill are just plain fucking mean, and whenever I found one on patrol, I had Vauban tear the thing to pieces. But I let them live. Vauban only took the stings and the wings, and then I went over to those crippled Beedrill. And then it was my turn to hate. I would work wonders on their mandibles with my BAMF, all the while they'd be poking at me with the parts missing anatomy.
And when I was done making art out of their faces, I cut them loose. Just so that they could flail their way back home to their hive, just so that one of their Beedrill buddies could put them out of their misery. I let them live in fucking agony. Just because I respect them as much as they respect man. They really like killing us. They think it's so damn fun killing us that after they're done punching a fucking hole through your heart, they can't help but add a few hundred more to every inch of your dead body.
Now I can respect that. That is hate. That is fucking awful hate.
But they don't hate us as much as I hate them.
And for all that hate, this crazy, soon to be dead Ranger was grinning like a motherfucker when Cortez barrelled it outta the bush with a whole Goddamn swarm of Beedrill on his ass.
I found out later that Cortez had torched their fucking pupae hive. I guess Cortez hates Beedrill almost as much as I do.
I. Fucking. Love. That. Dog.
…
"CORTEZ! INTERCEPT HEAVY MASS! BREAK OFF ON MY COMMAND!" That was the bravest fucking pokemon I'd ever seen. I still find myself tearing up whenever I remember that moment. That moment. My Cortez. Beedrills all of twenty meters away from going up his ass. One fucking ugly Snorlax dead ahead.
One tiny scarred-up Cortez in the fucking middle.
That fucking dog had a thousand needles of death on pursuit and a lethal mastication on intercept.
And Cortez did not hesitate to carry out my suicidal command for a single fucking second. That scarred dog was a Ranger, through and through.
And I'd only known him for three days.
My dog. Cortez.
You made me so damn proud that day.
"VAUBAN HALT!" Both me and my little girl came to a standstill.
"AIM YOUR BULB! HEAVY MASS! I WANT IT DEAD CENTER!" My Rangers were still running, amazingly still in formation. My respect for them went up to notch one.
"CORTEZ! VAUBAN! ON MY MARK!" Cortez had only seconds left before he would collide with the Snorlax and then the swarm of Beedrill would needle-rape whatever was left of my dog. Almost there, Cortez. You're almost there.
"MARK!" Cortez busted his ass changing direction, a cloud of dirt almost as big as the fucking Snorlax rose from his hasty maneuver. Vauban fired her Phosphorescent Seed right into the cloud of Beedrill, missing every one of them as it flew past.
Perfect.
The Phosphorescent Seed pegged the Snorlax on his flabby chest, and for a moment, I couldn't see a Goddamn thing as that Phosphorescent Seed lit up the whole fucking Viridian Forest despite the youth of day.
When I finally open my eyes again, I couldn't stop laughing.
The Snorlax was lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. And a swarm of roughly forty positively phototactic Beedrill were stinging the shit out of him.
"Cortez, Vauban! Regroup with Echo!" We all hightailed it after our Squad, while the Beedrill worked the Snorlax over. The Snorlax had stopped chasing us to beat off the fucking cloud of pain that had engulfed his ugly fucking person.
I honestly thought he had enough of fucking around with the Rangers.
But that Snorlax was just getting started.
...
I caught up with my winded squad. We could still hear the fat fuck bellowing and the Beedrill buzzing something fierce. The whole unit was exhausted. We pressed on until the sounds of battle was long silent behind us. Then I called a rest. We had to take a breather, even if it was for just one second.
"Bastard to Command. What's the Blackhat's ETA? Over." I gasped into my radio.
"Six minutes out, Bastard. Sit-Rep. Over." The Colonel sounded relieved that I wasn't shouting at him anymore.
"Tables are turned, Command. Delta-Five is marked for engagement. You can't miss him. Tell the Black Hats they're gonna have to mop up a whole helluva-lotta pissed off Beedrill as well. Over." My voice was quivering. I couldn't believe that we'd made it. I was so shaken that I almost gave the weeping Amber a hug. Then I remembered my pride.
"Casualty report, Echo. Over." The Colonel's voice shook me out of it.
"One fucking beautiful Rhyhorn has been decapitated. I will personally write the fucking requisition myself for securing a new Siege Class for Corporal Carlos Garcia. Over." I froze when I heard my own spoken words. And I knew the fucking Colonel did too.
We had just been lethally engaged with a Delta-Five, and we had only lost one easily replaceable mon. Just one measly fucking Rhyhorn.
That was almost Blackhat credentials.
"I expect promotions for myself and all of Echo Squad upon returning to base, Command. Over and out." The Fucking Bastard was telling the Colonel what was what. I felt like I was already wearing a Black Beret.
Cause damn.
I had fucking earned my promotion. And so had my Squad.
Well...
"Command, this is Bastard. Rescinding previous request. Rephrase. Every Ranger in Echo Squad gets promoted except Warrant Officer Amber Hail. Over." Command could hear me smiling when I spoke into that radio.
Even fucking Amber was laughing. I straightened my Squad out with a look.
"Let's get going, Echo. As much as I wanna see the look on that Snorlax's fat face when-"
The fucking forest exploded.
I didn't even know what the fuck was happening. Timber was flying everywhere, and all my stunned brain could do was look for the source.
It was the Goddamn Snorlax.
And he was swollen fucking mad.
Getting the shit stung outta him by the Beedrill was not on the menu. Surprise. Course. Bitch.
Oh.
Shit.
"COMMAND-!" That was a far as I got before that fucking freak closed the remaining fifty meters to our location. It happened so fast. I couldn't even process what the fuck was going on.
Carlos was trampled dead.
Pete was screaming his ass off right before the Snorlax bit him in half.
Amber was thrown into the fucking trees like she was a fucking ragdoll.
My hands were on Brenda and Erin's shoulders and I was pulling both of them out of the shock.
We were fucking dead.
"RUUUUN!" I pushed my two remaining Rangers towards the South and kicked their asses when they staggered. Then I turned around and I did the stupidest thing in my whole Goddamn life.
"VAUBAN! CORTEZ! ENGAGE HEAVY MASS!" That was it. This Snorlax was going down.
I booked it past the fucking Snorlax while he choked down what was left of Pete. I ran right into the woods where Amber had landed. She was still alive. And she was a fucking mess. The human frame was not designed for taking that level of abuse.
"ON YOUR FEET RANGER!" I dragged Amber's broken corpse to a standing position. No sooner had I let her go, then she hit the ground again. She wasn't walking outta this. Not on those legs. I whipped out my sidearm.
I put one in Amber's forehead and two in her chest.
It was the only thing I could do for that piece of shit Walkout.
That was the only reason Squad Leaders were given sidearms. It was my fucking duty to kill Amber before that Snorlax did.
And I did my duty without hesitation.
…
I could barely see through my bloody haze. Vauban and Cortez were duking it out with the Snorlax, but he didn't give a shit about the two tiny mon throwing pebbles at his feet. The two Rangers that I had been hell-bent on keeping alive at all costs were already fucking dead. They hadn't even made it sixty meters before that fucking piece of shit Snorlax killed-
"-..."
"And I-"
"...And I-"
"...I can't talk about it anymore-"
"-..."
"-Ohgawd…"
.
.
.
.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Greenback: Slang for Ranger. Warranted for the color of their Battle Dress; Olive Green. Originally intended to derogatorily refer to lazy Rangers accruing grass stains on the back of their shirts from laying down on the ground for too long, "Greenback" has since been adopted by the Corps and has summarily become a cherished title amongst the Rangers.
Blackhat (AKA The Black Berets): Ranger's Elite Pokemon Slaying Division. The "Black Berets" are the best of the best. Equipped with even more Pokemon derived firepower than any Division in the Military, The Black Berets stand as the greatest vanguards of humanity's continued survival. There are currently eight active Blackhat Teams, with a grand total of 109 members between those eight Teams. The deployment of a single Blackhat Team can even turn the tide against a Lima-One attack.
Walkout: Derogatory term for a Ranger who makes regular use of their leave. Typically joins the Corps with the sole ambition of securing the G.I. Bill's benefits. Given the almost religious commitment to the safety of humanity the more experienced Rangers display, Walkouts are often held in contempt by the elites. Walkouts are regarded as undisciplined, unmotivated, and ignorant by the Veterans. Walkouts. Fucking spineless pussies everyone of them.
Sandz: Standard unit of currency minted by Johto and Kanto's Indigo Confederacy Central Government.
Delta-Five: Rangers use a ranking system for identifying threats similar to the commercial sector's star ranking system. Instead of one-to-five stars, Rangers use one-to-five skulls. Tagged "Delta" for Death. Delta-One is for a Rattata threat level. Delta-Two is for a Beedrill threat level. Delta-Three is for a Nidoking threat level. Delta-Four is for a Rhyperior threat level. Delta-Five is for you're either Blackhat or you're fucked.
Black Handle: Ranger callsign for requesting the Black Berets. Use is explicitly forbidden for any engagements not designated high-priority, or less than contact with a Delta-Five.
D3CU/D5CU: Abbreviation of "Delta-Three Counter Unit/Delta-Five Counter Unit." The best way to counter a Delta-Five is with another Delta-Five, sporting a Ranger designated G.I. barcode tattoo. Thanks to their all-terrain capabilities and nasty attitudes, Rangers prefer the Gyaradosia species as their D5CUs.
P.S.
598 F-Bombs have been dropped in the making of this story.
