And done! Its been a bit since I last updated this. Reviews are much appreciated.
The hospital bed was just like any other. Small, slightly coarse, smelling strongly of antiseptics, and overly white. The woman in in however was far from the normal patient. Irelia marveled at Karma's ability to make even the standard baby blue hospital garb look stately. The empress yawned slightly; the newspaper she had been reading folded carefully and placed on the stark white end table, the label sticker with its red cross peeking out from the edge. Turing her attention from the serene ruler to the hallway could not have presented a more different scene. Hospital staff and guards alike stood aside for the hulking crimson power armor as it stalked through the stark white hall. Vents on the front of the skull like helmet hissed as the man stopped parallel to Irelia. The captain of the guard took a second to take in his appearance, noting the large burn across his chest plate as the icy gaze of the veteran soldier moved lazily up and down her traditional, if somewhat revealing, armor. She would have slapped anyone else, if not killed them on the spot for looking at her like that. "What happened to you?" The man chuckled, his voice grating and somewhat disturbing, as though every word out of his mouth was a death threat.
"Shocktrooper went critical. I trust the duchess is stable?"
"She is. Are you?" The crimson mask turned away from her, blue eyes focusing on the door to Karma's room.
"I'll live. The sniper was a centurion. I want a full report on my desk tomorrow on how that happened." Irelia shivered slightly. Unlike most commanders who would waste no time cursing out any failures within their subordinates the crimson clad general had no need for crass language or angry tones. He could congratulate a soldier on their exceptional performance and the man would be hard pressed not to piss himself on the spot. "Are you cold?" And yet for all the terror he inspired the man really did care for his subordinates. Or he was one hell of a good actor. Irelia never could figure out which.
"No. I…don't feel cold anymore."
"A shame…I suppose you don't feel warmth either." And apparently, despite the rumors that he was little more than sentient crimson power armor, had retained some sense of humor.
She didn't need to open her eyes to know that her general had entered the stark white room. Even a human less attuned to auras was, with concentration, able to sense the barely disguised power and hatred radiating from the crimson clad man. She supposed he made a comical figure sitting in the tiny stool she had ordered brought in specifically to annoy him. She lazily cracked an eye, rich emerald meeting harsh blue. "Would you kindly take that infernal mask off? Red suits you so much better than those cold blue slits." Her general never removed his mask. It seemed to be the one order he actively refused at all times. "You should have stayed at your post." Perhaps the most infuriating subordinate was the reticent one. Karma opened both eyes, shaking her head slightly as the ninja turned general's helmet hissed. "What have you done to yourself Zed?"
"An alpha and twenty shocktroopers were teleported into the city."
"As I am aware."
"A guardsman was uneducated in battlecast anatomy and detonated a shocktrooper's runic core." Karma closed her eyes again. She could feel another migraine coming on.
"Why can't you just do as I say? You do realize how you undermine me every time you do something like this, don't you?" The ninja hissed again metal clanking against the tiled floor as he stood up.
"If I wanted to undermine your power Karma I would dethrone you in a single night. All I ask for is a little gratitude for all I do to keep you where you are. Send me a card if that's all you can manage. The last thing I need is the entire population of Ionia looking to me for answers I don't have when you die. Why I agreed to this half-assed scheme of Syndra's I have no idea." The empress reached up, placing her hand on Zed's chest, his shoulder a bit out of reach.
"You will make a fine emperor. Regardless I don't want to come back to a nation at war. Any military actions will go through me, are we clear?"
"Crystal."
The drill sergeant had a long list of things he hated. Apparently the yordle woman reading off where the recruits who had finished basic were assigned to was fairly high up on that list. The small woman didn't seem to care though, her cheery voice reminding Caitlyn of Teemo. The soldier to her left, private Marcus Damien gave her a broad grin under his helmet. Her coms crackled for a second the young man's voice filling her ear as if they had been mere inches apart. "So how does it feel to be an elite soldier of humanity?" She chuckled stifling a sarcastic response.
"You tell me, private."
"Freaking amazing! Have you seen some of the stuff this armor can do? The tin cans won't stand a chance once we get out there!" She gulped slightly, her mind trailing back to how easily the machines had slain Jayce's unit. "So, you ready to blast some tin cans?"
"I doubt we'll be deployed that early." The man laughed, the jovial noise raising the markswoman's spirits slightly.
"Who knows? I just want to shoot a few tin cans is all. Maybe even get a centurion head for my little brother…" He was interrupted by the drill sergeant's shouting. "Time to get my can opener! Oh man, I'm so excited! I hope I get assigned a specialist's weapon. Yeah, maybe I'll get a plasma lance! You're automatically slated for an Artemis. No way any of us can out shoot you…" Her smile only grew with his ramblings, the jovial private nearly breaking into a happy dance as he was handed the massive bulk of a plasma lance and its corresponding backpack. As the private had said Caitlyn was in fact handed an Artemis gauss sniper rifle, the scope syncing to her armor as soon as she picked up the weapon.
Emily Trost was not the best guide. In some ways the swordswoman reminded Caitlyn of Vi. Neither had any sense of direction, both were incredibly standoffish, and both seemed to abhor asking for help of any kind. She wiggled her shoulder slightly, the weight of the Artemis compensated perfectly by her armor. Trost suddenly turned, the blonde biting her lower lip before pointing absentmindedly down a corridor. "That is the women's armory. Why you would feel the need to maintain your weapons in a separate area from the rest of your unit is beyond me but there you have it." She checked a small sheet of paper, Caitlyn catching a glimpse of Jayce's sloppy handwriting before Trost proceeded back the way they had come. "The rest of this is the useful stuff…probably. Freaking Jayce…has he ever been able to write?"
"No, Ma'am." Trost visibly cringed at the second half of the crisp response.
"Look, I don't know what that asshole Sanders told you but we generally don't do that sort of thing. All of us are in the same boat here and as long as you respect command's orders and don't cause problems why can't we all be friends?" Caitlyn nodded. "Oh and Jayce has requested a promotion for you actions in the league and Piltover. Kinda bullshit if you ask me…" Again Caitlyn simply nodded. No reason to make a bad impression on her new CO. "Anyway over here is where you'll be sleeping." She pointed to a crisp, fresh made bed, the sheets the same faded teal as every other. "That's my bunk. Yours is two to the left and one up." They passed a few more rooms before the lieutenant turned on her heel into a dimly lit room, a few human soldiers with yordles seated on books interspersed within the group. "Poker. Feel free to join just don't tell Walt. He never loses and we like our money."
"Right." Trost proved to be a fast walker, the ex-sheriff having to jog to keep up with the taller woman.
"As far as people you need to know Teemo is General of the Scouts, Rumble leads the armored division, Viegar is head mage, Rose is the spy mistress, and Tristana is head of the Megling Commandos. We are the only unit possessing power armor. We are also the smallest unit in Bandle City. It takes about three men or six yordles with conventional armor to equal a shocktrooper. For every one soldier Bandle City has Viktor has thousands. You can see why we're losing." Caitlyn nodded, Trost shutting her eye before continuing. "Of course power armor tips the scales a bit. One of us is equivalent to ten shocktroopers or roughly one tenth of a centurion. Add in guass rifles, plasma lances, and other gadgets and we're still out gunned on a thirteen hundred to one basis. Theoretically. In truth most of the regiment has no idea what a machine does or even looks like. Only thirty soldiers in the regiment have combat experience against battlecasts. About half have fought in the recent conflicts between Demacia and Noxus. The rest are naïve recruits that think if they squeeze the trigger hard enough and shout one-liners they can win the war on their own." Caitlyn looked down, her mind trailing back to the rest of the recruits and their boastful claims as to how many tin cans they were going to kill.
"Lieutenant Trost, ma'am, is this war winnable?" Trost took her time answering, a thin hand rubbing at her eye before she spoke.
"I doubt it…perhaps Ionia could hold out for a few months but it'd only prolong the inevitable. Once Bandle City falls Viktor will take Shurima and Freljord. After that Bilgewater will fall followed by Ionia. The shadow isles will put up the best fight, lasting only a few years tops as Viktor's larger machines sweep the ghosts and whatnot. The only way we win is if some miracle happens in Zaun, one of those machines has to revolt against Viktor, or at least turn his attention away from the battle long enough for us to land a strike on Zaun itself."
Aatrox watched the machine enter his prison with mock surprise. He had felt its runic power source approaching since it entered the prison complex. Two pairs of glowing red eyes met as the machine addressed the god. "You made the changes we agreed on?" The lack of monotony in its voice was strange to say the least but Aatrox had seen stranger. The darkin flicked the restraining devices, the metal orbs shattering at his touch.
"Not quite. An outright betrayal would be absurd. You might as well have asked me to destroy Zaun. No, this must be a human victory. They must prove themselves worthy." The machine stared at him, Aatrox unperturbed by its obvious anger. "For now I simply planted the seed, a sense of honor replacing blind devotion. Soon enough we shall reap the rewards." The machine pressed the center of a small cylindrical device, power surging back into Aatrox as he unfurled banner like wings.
"Perhaps you can even the odds for the humans a bit?"
"That I will do."
Viktor's respirator was having trouble keeping up with his lungs, the Creator utilizing all his self control not to smash Venator into tiny bits. "Not only did you fail your mission but you revealed the storm portal? I should have you disassembled for this… no matter though. Your skills will be required again shortly." The creator turned to a screen mounted on the arm of his throne. "Chief Techmaturge Calias, what is the status of project ascendant?" the youngman on the screen scratched the back of his head, his face radiating youthful energy as he checked a tablet held precariously in a metal arm attached to his back, a second one holding his tools within easy reach.
"Ah excellent, sir. We should be right on schedule with the new orbital kinetic weapon." Viktor resisted the urge to shatter the tiny screen.
"And what of the seed project?"
"Completed, sir. The launchers are ready to be fitted to our artillery." Under his mask Viktor grinned slightly. At least one of his possible contingency plans for taking Bandle City would be fully operational.
"Very good. Fit the first artillery with the seed launchers and prep them for battle in Bandle City. Due to a…miscalculation" He directed his gaze to Venator, the machine kneeling slightly more submissively if possible, " we will have to accelerate our plans."