Gold Rush II: Ripples

Continental Highway 72

Abandoned Roadside Gas Station

December 3, 10:25 PM

It was as if the world itself sped up, turning into a blur of motion and sound. He could tell where walls and his fellow soldiers were, but with a different sense than sight. In the midst of it, David Carroll could see strange red lines, kind of like a security laser from an old spy or heist movie. He didn't pay attention to the lines at first – really, it felt as though his body was just moving on its own – but later, in the middle of reloading, he vaguely noticed a line wander across another soldier's chest, then upwards a little. In a moment, the soldier jerked several times, and then slumped forwards. Rather than being horrified, David's mind took a note: don't let the lines touch you.

As he returned to his position, his mind noticed that he really was seeing something out of the ordinary. He could use that information to his advantage, couldn't he? I mean, if those lines lead to an enemy soldier's vision – or the barrel of their gun – then if he followed them, couldn't he see where the enemy was?

In fact, there were lines, blue ones, coming from the guns of the soldiers around him, too... and his as well. So if he used the lines to aim his shots, then...?

Golden Fortress Main Complex

10:56 PM

In many cases, a nighttime assault would be fraught with problems. With such low visibility, friendly fire incidents were very common. However, the Golden Fortress' main complex was a fortified military compound; there were no windows. The only sources of light were artificial, and those had been ordered shut down by Captain Steele. Orange Star's infantry were equipped with night vision goggles, so they didn't have that problem.

Of course, neither did Lieutenant Nemorov's troops. They had brought their own goggles as well, and thanks to the Command Network, they didn't have any trouble knowing each other's locations, and could instantly relay enemy locations to each other. Nemorov presumed that the enemy commander had given the order to prevent the soldiers being staggered when the lights inevitably went out. If that was true, that meant the Bowlheads expected them to disable or destroy the base's main generator... which would usually have been cause for a retreat. The fact that they hadn't done so told Nemorov that his enemy still had a few tricks up their sleeves.

Blue Moon soldiers had begun to spread out through the base in groups of two squads each, covering opposite directions so they wouldn't get caught by surprise if a hidden Bowlhead squad hit them from behind. Through the Command Network, the soldiers were slowly constructing a map of the base, although it was fuzzier than Nemorov was used to. Through all this, Nemorov deduced that OF-Lieutenant Droma was quite a new officer; everything he had done thus far was according to Blue Moon military protocol (or had been Nemorov's idea), none of it accomplished through his own creativity.

Nemorov's platoon had been tasked with leading the charge into the main complex. Upon entering, his squads had split up and were scouring the complex – so far, only light resistance. Most of his squads had taken some casualties – the wounded had returned to the camp. Blue Moon squads were trained to continue operating even at half capacity anyways. If Nemorov was in command, he would have surrounded the base and shelled it until the enemy was forced to come out... and if they didn't, he would let them starve. However, apparently Droma's superior had ordered him to capture the base, so it seemed they were forced onto this risky endeavor.

As Nemorov continued leading his squads through the base, slowly and meticulously checking every open door, he began to feel uneasy. The Bowlheads had not seen fit to booby-trap these levels of the base. That could only mean they were confident of holding their position – or they had designed the base so that they could bring the whole thing down at will. Additionally, Nemorov slowly became aware of a "swelling" within the Command Network – a sort of pressure that made his head hurt if he tried to observe it. Normally, this kind of pressure signified that the OF's Break levels were readying for a release through the Amplifier – however, this felt different, more unstable. The bad feeling within Nemorov swelled to a crescendo as the floorboards opened up, exposing heads, hands, and rifles punctuated by orange uniforms. Only his experience gave him enough warning to dive around the corner in time, pulling a surprised comrade after him.

Blue Moon Forward HQ

10:59 PM

'Lieutenant Baich. Several Orange Star ambushes around the base. The bastards were waiting for us.'

"Hm." The one that Droma had disparaged as a slacker had a streak of ruthlessness in battle, but he knew that the soldiers needed a little bit of warning about Droma's instability. He responded through the network: 'It's going to explode out of him soon. Just hold tight and slaughter the pigs until it comes. Although...'

Baich heard a moan issue from next to him, prompting him to take action. 'Break the hell out of the Comnet now! That's an order!'

As the sound grew in volume, the lieutenant quickly followed his own advice and disengaged. Droma was still young, barely capable of controlling his energies and certainly not capable of releasing power properly like this, and yet he still insisted on building it up. The lieutenant didn't know why; all he knew was that Droma was about to break yet another one of the restrictions placed on him by releasing his OF Power.

Right as that thought passed through Baich's mind, the moan turned into a loud, broken scream as blood spurted from the OF's mouth, then transitioned into a hoarse laughter. "Hah... you think you can make a fool of me? Know your place, you Orange Star pigs! Bear witness to the power granted only to us, the Breakcoms, the gods among men!"

As Baich steadied himself, the screen shattered and the cave shook. For an instant, a darkness seemed to rend space itself, and the world folded around him; then, chunks of the cave's ceiling came down.

Nemorov kicked aside the body of one of the Bowlhead ambushers, then fired a couple more shots around the corner, just for suppression. He glanced over his shoulder, then retreated into the darkened room after his squad; the layout looked like some kind of command center or boardroom of some kind, featuring a large, oblong donut-like table in the center of the room. The gunfire outside didn't let up, but that wasn't important right now. "You boys okay?" he asked. The five of them nodded. Five... damn. He had felt the light disappear over the Comnet, but even so... it never felt fully real until his second-in-command, Sergeant Vdovin, confirmed it. "Private Bezmel... didn't make it, sir."

Nemorov gritted his teeth. "...right. We're moving into cover here. This table will serve us well for that." Besides, the throbbing was still growing. He briefly considered detaching from the Comnet, but Droma's power had allowed the Company's grenades to break through any cover the Bowlhead bastards tried to hide behind. Heh, how much worse will it be for those goons without any cover to-

'Break the hell out of the Comnet now!'

What? Nemorov heard the order, but didn't understand. Then, it all came together as a flash of light blinded him and he felt a sensation not unlike a set of knives piercing his forehead in the midst of a migraine. Nemorov dropped from the Comnet just in time, flopping to the floor helplessly as the screams of his soldiers rang through his ears.

Some of the screams he could hear were from the Bowlheads outside. That fact did not comfort him.

And then the ripple moved through the base, bringing with it a second wave of pain.

Continental Highway 72

Abandoned Gas Station

10:31 PM

Aim for the red line. Shoot, shoot, duck, shoot. Reload, but only while everyone else is shooting. Get away from there, it's a grenade. Get down, you idiot, you'll get shot like that.

David Carroll pushed one of his squadmates down before a few bullets ripped where he or she had been; he couldn't tell who it was in the fog. He got back to work shooting.

Aim for the red line. Shoot again. The fog is clearing, hurry. The red lines are disappearing one by one. Now they're disappearing all at once. Are they dead, or merely retreating? Not sure. I...

David Carroll fell to his knees as the fog cleared from his mind. He became vaguely aware of the yelling around him, the screaming, the sobbing, the orders... the orders are to stay here. Is that a good idea? I... I...

"Recruit Carroll! Are you okay? Recruit Carroll!" A hand roughly grabbed him from behind; David had a brief mental flash of throwing his attacker forward over his shoulder, but his body refused to move; he slowly became aware of his exhaustion. He was hyperventilating. It felt... bad.

The hands turned him around. He saw a blurry, skull-like thing floating in front of him. "Recruit Carroll. Your status? Recruit?"

"Wha... whahappen?" David's mouth refused to budge.

"Very well; never mind." The hands dropped David to the ground; a slight pain hit his spine. "I apologize. Get the wounded to the back! We have a couple of medics and a small supply of Emeraldine. Quickly!"

"Lieutenant Lockburr! I need some help over here! Come on, Sticks, hold it together! Come on!"

That's... Turd? David tried to stand, then pulled himself up. "Turd? Wh..."

A blurry figure came into view, then a hand reached down and pulled David to his feet. A shaking voice with all the ego stamped out of it: "Pits... you're alive. You kicked ass, man. If you hadn't pushed me over, I'd be the Moonies' pincushion right now. Can you walk?"

"I... I think."

"Damn it, this won't do!"

"Hey, I'll get him. Don't worry, man; you'll be okay. That's not a bad hit. Just keep it together and you'll be up before you know it."

"Wait." David turned around. "Who's hit? Wait, Sticks is hit?"

"Sticks... was hit. And... and..." Turd looked at the ground.

No... don't tell me. Please don't...

...then two of the soldiers walked by, roughly carrying a body face up. As they passed, David caught a glimpse first of the chest, which was covered with blood and bullet holes going up the chest and neck, and then of Wreck's face, his eyes frozen wide open.

The only thing David could hear for the next ten seconds was his dinner emerging from his mouth onto the floor.

Golden Fortress Main Complex

11:01 PM

Nemorov pushed off the floor with his hands, trying to stand up, then fell again as a sharp pain ran through his left arm. He stared at it; nothing visibly wrong. Swelling. Bruise? No. Too sharp. Broken bone? How? That didn't make any sense.

Silence. Silence in the world; only low moans could be heard. He couldn't open his mouth. He couldn't stand up. The enemy was near and he was stuck on the floor and didn't even know where his gun was. He could hear his soldiers trying to move. Slowly, he shuffled around to look at his soldiers. More pain; his stomach. On the side. Sharp again. No obvious damage, but... hurt in such odd places?

His soldiers. They were hurt too. Also odd places, from the looks of the ways they held themselves. One, cheekbone. Two, right arm. Could be bad. Wouldn't be able to shoot like that... wait, he's left-handed. Three, four, no visible damage. Five, broken leg. Looks like it was twisted to the side. Got to stop the bleeding.

He could feel his mouth move again, as if some kind of seal had been removed. He spoke first to the ones who were most wounded: "Corporal Dityatev. Private Maciek. Are you good to fight?"

"I... I can move. Can't really shoot a rifle like this, though; my right hand won't respond. I can wave a pistol around."

"I think they got my leg, but it won't slow me down... what the hell was that? Some kind of Bowlhead weapon? Do they have an OF here or something?"

"I don't know. Whatever it was..." Nemorov focused. Damn it, the Comnet's out! "Something has happened to the OF-Lieutenant. You all disengaged in time, correct?"

The squad nodded. Nemorov tensed, then placed his right hand on the table and pulled himself to his feet. No pain. He opened his pack and pulled out a painkiller gel, quickly applying it to his left arm. It hurt, but unlike Corporal Dityatev, his arm still worked. "Listen outside. The gunfire has died down. I think the Bowlheads may have been hit too. Alright, men; take a moment to pull yourselves together. Then, we're going to take the fight to them."

Golden Fortress Command Center

11:02 PM

"What... what was that?"

The Command Center was in a greater mess than ever before. Several consoles were completely broken, and a couple of the officers had been taken to the makeshift medical bay on the other side of the room, sporting strange wounds. Captain Steele displayed no sign of injury herself, but her officers knew that even if she was in pain from head to toe, she would never admit it.

"Black... Ripple." The Captain's growling voice made the officers jump. "I've heard of it before."

"Captain Steele? Are you alright?"

"I used to... work at the Breakcom Training Center in the capital. That surge... that was why the junior OFs were not allowed to use the Amplifier. An OF that can't focus their power through it properly... that's what happens. He's probably wounded his own soldiers too. I hope our officers know what they're doing, because we've lost contact with most of them."

The remaining officers stared as the Captain stood up. She turned to them, grey eyes revealing nothing. "I'm going to the front. Coordinate things in my absence."

"Captain! Going out there now..."

"As it is now, we can't win. The enemy OF will be on his way; he won't be able to reengage his Comnet for a while. I will go and terminate as many enemies as I can before he arrives. Follow orders and take command, Lieutenant."

After the Captain left the room, one officer turned to another:

"How the hell does she know all this?"

Golden Fortress Main Complex

11:05 PM

Nemorov had been correct; the Bowlheads in the corridors had were in various states of injury and death, making them easy targets for his squad. As things were, he supposed that Blue Moon had permanently gained the upper hand in this battle, as messy a method that had been used.

After the Bowlheads in the corridorhad been shot or had retreated, he took out his console and checked on the rest of the platoon.

"What... this is impossible..." Nemorov looked on his datapad for a signal from a surviving squad leader, and found only one signal in his platoon. "Sergeant Ragulin! Status report!"

"Thank goodness you're safe, Lieutenant! We've lost the Comnet and they're everywhere!"

"You need to learn to take a little risk, Sergeant! The Bowlheads are hurting just like we are! Go out and kill them before they recover! You're almost at the Command Center, aren't you?"

"Lieutenant! That's simply not possible! On the other side, it's a- AAUUGH! What's going on? Keep shooting, you dogs, keep shooting! Why won't it work? She's just a s-"

"Sergeant!" Nemorov pounded the wall. These soldiers are far too dependent on the Comnet. I thought my platoon was better than that!

"Alright, squad! We're the only ones with a working transceiver, and HQ isn't responding. We have to move up and find any survivors. The Bowlheads can't have that many men left, but be on your guard. Stick together and keep sharp; remember the code phrase we set up before. Don't shoot until you're sure it's not one of ours."

Blue Moon Forward HQ

11:06 PM

In time, the OF-Lieutenant's spasming slowed and stopped. Slowly, the man opened his eyes. Lieutenant Baich was gone; the fool had probably left the HQ because he was scared of a couple falling rocks. How stupid.

As Droma stood up, his head began to throb. He ignored it, kicking aside the Amplifier's broken control console. This was taking too long; the commanders would not be pleased. For a moment, he worried that Sasha would be displeased with his performance. He dismissed the thought immediately; why was he worried about a nobody like her? Beside, she had made a habit of defying him, something he really didn't appreciate. This was taking far too long, though. If his soldiers were not competent enough to do the job, he would go into the base and capture it himself.

Droma looked around; the few other officers he had taken with him had also left. Well, not all of them; there was one man trying to get out from under a rock. Droma glared at the officer, wondering how one of his staff members could be so weak. The man tried to speak, but could only gurgle, reaching his arm up towards Droma like a half-crushed earthworm trying desperately to survive.

Droma kicked the man in the face, then turned away without a second glance. He stepped slowly towards the cave entrance, then stopped, hearing a noise he could not quite identify. For a moment, a shiver rose up his spine, and he did not question it; he dashed out of the cave mouth, taking in the Break Energy around him and using its field to propel himself forward.

As Droma emerged from the entrance of the cave, an RPG round flew past him and exploded on the side of the mouth, almost trapping him inside. Droma grinned in a bloodthirsty way, realizing just who had shot at him.

"Lieutenant Baich." Droma spat the words, staring up at the large lump of flesh about 10 meters away from him. All of the camp's lights were off except for the medical bay, which was on the other side of the hill. In the darkness, all that could be seen were the silhouettes of the two men.

"Whoops. Looks like I missed." The man's casual remark stirred up a whilwind of rage in Droma; to Baich, his adversary's eyes appeared to glow. Perfect. Get him mad. He can't fight well when he's mad.

"If you thought I couldn't handle that release, then you really are as stupid as you look."

"Aw. And here I planned to watch you crush yourself to death in the cave."

"Really. I can't well make death quick for you, now can I?" Droma growled, clenching his fist around his combat knife and launching himself at his enemy. He wasn't about to stoop to using his powers against such a weakling.

"Good." Baich dug his right boot's toe into the soft dirt and kicked it into Droma's face, smiling as he was rewarded with a yelp of pain and a premature swing that missed his body.

As Droma wiped the dirt from his eyes, the bearlike man caught the OF in the forehead with a hard punch, sending him sprawling backwards into the dirt. "You think I was going to be dumb and try shooting you right off the bat?" With a look as though solving an interesting math puzzle, Baich fired his pistol at Droma; the bullet disappeared before it reached the man's body. He watched the OF stand back up: "Thought so. But that B-Field you lot have ain't so good at blocking something blunt, is it?"

"Bastard!" Droma trembled as he glared up at the Lieutenant. He charged again, this time propelling himself with Break Energy. His enemy repositioned himself, avoiding the knife and allowing Droma's head to strike him in the stomach, which was protected by his bulletproof vest. Baich felt something crack in his body, but he also knew that Droma had felt the impact too. Baich's elbow came down on Droma's back, knocking the OF to the ground. The knife fell out of Droma's hand and disappeared into the darkness.

"Never mind, I take that back." Baich began to kick Droma in the head, again and again. "That B-Field's the only reason you aren't a bloody, useless pulp by now."

That's... enough. The pain running through Droma's head was nothing compared to the rage that burned through his body. He opened one of his palms, concentrating energy into a glowing light that changed shape as it faded until it became a lemon-shaped grenade. The OF hurled the grenade at his assailant; it would go off next to him, but his B-Field should be able to withstand one explosion.

But Baich was no longer there; the man had run away, perhaps anticipating Droma's maneuver. Droma looked around, surprised; the grenade went off with a bang and still the man did not show himself. For the first time, Droma regretted not carrying a pistol; he had always seen it as a sign of weakness, a sign that he himself didn't have enough power to fight. And now, that lazy bastard was besting him...! The very thought made Droma's blood boil.

"If that's how you're going to play..." Droma growled. He's just a man. He's still around here, just hiding somewhere in the shadows. Well, I know just how to flush this roach out. Many more lights appeared around him, and then even more: within seconds, 40 different grenades were now floating in midair around him, as if he were now within a shell of grenades. He started to wave his hand-

Then, he heard the sound of a pistol firing... and again, and again. Right after the fourth shot, one grenade exploded, triggering another, then another, all around him. As all of the grenades detonated, they provided a brief light, burning into the night the shape of OF-Lieutenant Droma, an expression of pure hatred illuminated on his face.

As the light faded, Lieutenant Baich stood up, appearing from behind a large rock several tens of meters away from the explosion. "Phew. Lucky me. Seems like his grenades do pierce each other."

As Baich climbed over the ledge walked towards the shallow crater, looking down to make sure Droma was dead, the ground suddenly trembled. As Baich tried to catch his balance, five thin columns of dust rose up from behind and struck through the Lieutenant's body. It was a second before Baich realized that the dust had hardened; he tried to walk forward, but a sharp pain struck him and a spurt of blood stained his uniform purple.

"...what...?" the large man gasped, falling backwards onto the spikes. As he fell, ten more spikes rose up and pierced his arms and legs. Baich's vision blurred as he struggled to comprehend, realizing that he had underestimated just how difficult it was to kill a Breakcom, even a weak one like this.

"Heh... eh heh..." A dark, otherwordly growling emerged from the crater as more dust spikes began to form; even through the pain, Baich reflexively pulled his neck to the side to avoid a spike.

"You... you LOSE, LieuTENant Baich..." A figure rose up from the crater like a puppet with all its strings severed except for the ones on its shoulders. OF-Lieutenant Droma's thick coat had been shredded, leaving nothing but a torn, bloody black sweatshirt and pants. His face looked like a ghost, cuts and bruises forming a network of lines on his face not unlike a giant red tattoo. Only his long brown hair and ice blue eyes remained, piercing into Baich like the gaze of the devil claiming a doomed soul.

"Hah... you can't kill a god, worm. This new power that I've received is a testament to that." The monstrous man let out a mocking, piercing laugh. "I think I'll make your end as slow as I can. Let's see... what should I break first?"

Droma threw his arms in the air, and several waves of mud flew from the ground, thin yet hard as a knife. Baich felt his right hand explode with agony, then a second time, and then again and again and again, the chill of the night air instantly replaced by waves of searing pain. His throat grew raw; he heard nothing but the sound of his own scream in those terrible seconds. Baich let his head fall to the side, eyes closed tight. He knew that if he opened them, he knew he would be forced to see the bloody remains of his hand, nothing left of it but a damp pile of chopped meat and bone on the ground.

Then, the feeling of a foreign object lodged in his body vanished, and another spike of pain shot through him as he hit the ground. Unable to move, he could only listen to what happened next:

"Ah... what? You? No! Why have you come here, you bitch? This man was a traitor! He tried to-"

"OF-Lieutenant Droma. You are removed from command in this sector and are awaiting court-martial for violating orders from CO-General Olaf. You were specifically instructed not to activate your OF Power, yet you disobeyed that order. I'm surprised you're still alive. And you're trying to execute an officer even though you should be powerful enough to take him alive for questioning? You... you shame me." The cold voice was female: OF-Colonel Sasha.

"Hah... I see what's going on now. If you try to steal my glory, I'll dispose of you too!"

Droma waved his hand, summoning more columns of dust from the ground in front of Sasha, launching them diagonally upwards at her. As the columns approached her, though, they unraveled like a whirlwind and dissipated back into dust. Droma's eyes widened as Sasha continued walking slowly towards him, the sadness in her eyes mixed with a darkness that told the man she would show no mercy.

"Wait... what? Hey... no..." Droma created five grenades and launched them at her; she glanced at each of them, and they dissolved before reaching her.

"Stay back! I'm sorry! I didn't mean any of it! I won't... mmph!" Droma fell over, becoming increasingly aware of the pain he was in; as his rage gave way to fear, it became almost unbearable, sealing his lips shut in an ugly grimace. He scrambled backwards on hands and feet, soon bumping his head into the debris that now sealed off the cave.

As Sasha approached, Droma desperately threw grenade after grenade; they all dissolved in midair. Droma touched the cave wall, and a chunk of rock went flying towards her; a glance from Sasha destroyed its acceleration and sent it tumbling to the ground. When she was five meters away, Sasha dashed towards him and knocked him out with a single kick.

With that done, she turned to her transceiver. "The package is secure. Come and pick him up, but observe proper precautions." With that, she dashed over to Lieutenant Baich. "Can you walk?"

"I... I might need some help with that." The Lieutenant tried to grin, but it came out as more of a wince.

"My soldiers will be here to get you to the medical camp in a minute or so. I'll question you and the others about your actions later. For now, I have a battle to fight."

With that, OF-Colonel Sasha walked away. Baich lay on the ground limply, devoid of the energy he needed to move, cry, or laugh.

Continental Highway 72

Abandoned Gas Station

11:15 PM

It wasn't just the fact that Wreck had been killed. Recruit David Carroll knew that he had seen his squadmate die, and he hadn't even reacted to it. He didn't know if he had known who it was at the time; his memories of that incident were still a blur. It was still inexcusable. One of his squadmates, one of his friends was... he couldn't be dead. It just wasn't possible. Not in this day and age. They had a miracle healing substance with them right now, right...?

"It was an unlucky hit. One of the bullets busted his brainstem. Not even Emeraldine can bring him back now."

How could... how could I watch my friend die and not think anything of it?

"Pits, come on! They're comin' back for another round! Come on, you were like a war machine last time!"

I can't do it... that... that wasn't me.

"They've got a tank! It's a tank! Get the hell away from the wall!"

An explosion. Recruit David Carroll looked around at the makeshift medical area in the storeroom, watching the wounded around him as the healing gel known as Emeraldine did its work on them. It was more than a regenerative tool and blood-loss stopper – it could restart the heart, even the brain as long as vital areas of it weren't damaged. Best of all, it was inexpensive to produce, so every soldier had a small vial of it in their pack. According to the Houston Conventions, a victorious army was required to give some to captured enemy soldiers. David could only think about dry facts like that; it was a good anesthetic for the type of pain he was feeling.

He could still hear the sounds of battle on the other side. Now, it sounded more like a slaughter; less yelling, more screaming. He felt his body move without his consent; it scared him, so he tried to resist it. Nevertheless, his limp body crawled back into the convenience store's main area. The front wall was now destroyed; all the soldiers were behind overturned shelves or the counter; thankfully, it was enough to stop bullets at this range, but not if the enemy got close. On the street outside, several Blue Moon vehicles were there, firing at them; David counted two recon vehicles and at least three armored cars, one in flames. The soldiers behind the counter were down to their last bazooka, it seemed.

What remained of his squad lay behind an overturned shelf closer to the front. As Turd turned to reload, he saw David there, and beckoned; David crawled over. As Turd returned to firing, David couldn't bring himself to shoot; even though he thought he had lost hope, his body still yearned to survive just enough that he couldn't ignore the bullets flying around the building. A long BANG sounded, and the wall above the counter broke under a tank shell, sending concrete and shrapnel flying; the squad misfired their bazooka and hit the road. Turd fell over, blood spurting from his shoulder. As David's terror gave way to hopelessness, he peeked over the shelf and saw that the Recons' gun turrets were pointed away from the store, instead gazing down the road, perhaps they thought the battle was already won-

And then one of the recons exploded, sending bodies flying. A surge of adrenaline ran through David's body as the rest of the Moonie vehicles turned towards this new threat; he supported his rifle on the shelf and fired at the Recon. The vehicles tried to drive away, but one armored car exploded, then another; David saw the crew of the last jump out and run for the woods. A few seconds later, several Orange Star APCs drove up and unloaded the squads inside. David felt lightheaded. There had to be a catch. Was it all a trick, a Moonie ruse to get their hopes up before slaughtering them all?

As he thought that, several more vehicles arrived. One Recon went into the woods, perhaps in pursuit of the Blue Moon infantry, while a platoon of tanks pulled up in front of the gas station. The hatch on the lead tank opened, and out jumped...

...no, that can't be. David stood up, hardly willing to believe it.

And of course, it wasn't true. The face was different, but it had that same youthful intensity that he'd known before his brother had left to become an OF. The similarities were so striking that he found himself stepping forward, forgetting that a shelf lay in front of him. David tripped over the shelf, falling over a bunch of discarded shell casings and landing right at the feet of the young boy in orange shorts.

The kid looked down at him and grinned without a trace of falseness in his face. "You okay, soldier?"

David accepted the hand that the kid offered to help him up. As he got to his feet, the boy shook his other hand.

"Nice to meet you. My name is Andy!"

OF Droma

Rank: Lieutenant

Affiliation: Blue Moon

Skill: Enemy units take extra damage after each combat. Otherwise, regular OF combat strength.

Power: BLACK RIPPLE ********

Automatically activates when charged. All units take a wave of damage. Enemy units take a second wave of damage.

A newly awakened OF still learning to control his powers. Believes himself to be above normal humans.

Hit: Blood

Miss: Water

"I won't be beaten by the likes of you!"

OF Sasha

Rank: Colonel

Affiliation: Blue Moon

Skill: Gains extra income from properties. Attack and defense lower than a CO's.

Power: MARKET CRASH ****

Decreases the opponent's charged power based on Sasha's current funds.

Blue Moon's star OF. Calm and polite, with a hidden vicious streak when crossed.

Hit: Truffles

Miss: Pork Rinds

"Money is power."