If you ask me now, then that day is the most bloody day of my life. The fight expanded to cover the whole of Upper East Manhattan, and parts of Midtown, too. Of course, parts of its weren't so destructive, only around the hive the Order had dug themselves, in part due to the simply vicious methods of infected, other to the bombs the military dropped along the way. All in all, there were fresh blood and bright explosions. So much excitement, so much pain. Death found us that day.

Gunners dashed through the battlefield quickly, erratically spinning out to saw people through with his blade. From the screams of his victims, the jagged edge was more painful than not.

I attempted to follow, but the sheer numbers of the Order kept me at bay. I was forced to plow my way through a series meat walls. Every time I thought I had a clear shot, someone stepped into my way, as though they were protecting their prince. Growling in frustration, I bashed the head of another evolve into the ground.

Someone else also saw the threat, or perhaps out of retribution. Baker dove herself forward, catching just the boot of Gunners as he tried to dart away. He stumbled, sending them both out of sight, behind the stomach of another fat bastard. His eyes widened when I flayed open myself like a kite and squeezed him like a nailed coffin. The wall of teeth dug into him from all directions.

Far away, I could make out Baker's form as she dug her blade into Gunners' chest, who twisted away, opening a even bigger lash. She followed up with a kick that send him backwards, then another stab. I thought perhaps Tom would be avenged by someone he knew better.

Until Gunners turned the table back onto her. His jigsaw ripped open her back with a roar of ferocious bear. Her punches turned into nothing as they deflected off his scarred armor. He used his blades like choppers, cutting through the air so quickly they blurred. When the last blow fell, I was already jumping into the air.

Only to be dragged back into the ground as a whip wrapped itself along my foot. Attached to the other end was a grinning prototype, who face smashed like porcelain as I used it to break my fall. He shook his head before charging again, the whip dancing like a snake in a heat of the fight.

Too hurried to play games, I drew claws, more exaggerated than needed. He didn't even stop, letting me run him through and through, then turning and gutting himself even more. He stopped laughed, I stopped holding. As his whip caught my neck, I pushed, until the claws came out the other side. Now he was concerned, one arm a shield now, to bash me away. I melted my entire body, save for the claws still stuck in him. His shield passed through me with bare resistance. I shifted the claws up. Suddenly he was slices of dead meat, toppling over where he stood.

Gunners was gone, most likely to another part of the fight to slaughter more people. But he wasn't the biggest problem anymore.

The newest Blackwatch specialist flew in with blades like rain. Two large disks of silvery metal cut through the air so quickly their passage could be heard. The target was in midair, unable to change his trajectory. Will died as he was trisected, then kicked into the ground by the flying, metal man.

I heard a roar, angry, powerful. Anthony Carson managed to score a hit on the specialist with a concrete block, causing the man to lose his direction. He tumbled into the ground somewhere behind the battle. Carson jumped in after him, a mass of pure vengeance.

I thought about going in after him, but from what I could see, his was just another losing battle. Everywhere the Loyalists were outnumbered by the Order. The military could do little in the mingling bodies, unsure who they were firing on. The few that dared to charge the line of tanks were shot down in a blink of an eye.

I stared at the battle, trying to see its cause, its significance, because for what was this worth?

Then I was no longer staring at the battle at head height, instead my view shifted about thirty feet to the left and five feet down into the ground. I felt the impact, the jarring blow that had hit me hard and fast, the trail of dirt I left in my short, uncontrolled flight. I looked up. There was only a faint trail of orange. What had hit me?

Another punch launched me forward. I could barely roll and come to my feet in the surprise. My back ached from the impact.

Something rushed at me from behind. Automatically I swung, with no less than four tentacles, shrieking through the air towards my attacker. They all hit. I whipped around as it backed off. It was Mother, now sporting an ugly gnash on her face from my counter. She smiled despite.

"You are stronger than I expected," she purred, stalking me in our own bubble, separate from the outside, "But are you strong enough?"

I prepared for the attack, though that didn't stop the lightning blade from striking into my ribs. The second one I deflected. She growled, then kicked me. I felt the blade detach from my sides, which was good, but also myself soar, which was bad, considering that she was coming after me. In midair I spread wings and lifted upwards. Unfortunately her claws still ripped my back open and slammed me back down.

"Good try."

I felt a tongue of fire lick across my face, shredding skin as it went. I bit it when it reached my mouth, and from my teeth injected the deadly neurotoxin. Immediately there was a growl, and the tongue pulled back. This allowed me to whip my head to the side, narrowly avoiding the swing of a sharp blade.

"You will suffer!"

She drew back her fist. I had time to raise both my hands as support, but still her punch carried through my shield to hurl me back. She dashed forward, like light itself, again leaving the trace in the air, and grabbed me with claws. They hurt, enough to spur me on to escape her grip. But my stabs and slashes did nothing, not while she absorbed them like a sponge.

"Meet your end," she said, raising her other claw.

"Dana!" someone screamed. She looked up, surprised. Perhaps the name itself was her key. While she was distracted, I kicked her in the face, forcing her to let go. She glared daggers at me, not noticing another figure, in dark clothing, ran forward with the same astonishing speed. Alex Mercer left a trace of not orange, but black, that hung gloomily in the air. "Come back to me!"

His voice was almost desperate, almost human. I was stunned, her too. For a second, the orange eyes of Mother softened and became almost blue. Her combat stance straightened. She opened her mouth, like she wanted to say something. But then something else took over. Her eyes once again turned orange. Veins began to glow along her arm, the claws enlarging.

Mercer kept coming. Using his enormous blade as a battering ram, he half-tackled her away, not slowing one bit. I saw the heavy impact more than heard it, the ring of disturbed air that marked their collision. His charge carried them far, out of the ring of battle, disappearing around a block. I might have ran to see, but there were more pressing matters.

I chased the specialist and Carson from Central Park to 1st Avenue and back again. The specialist had nearly unlimited mobility as he darted through the air, cutting with blades as he went. Carson was not far behind, launching himself with a ferocious speed, from building to building, occasionally knocking people out of the way with superhuman strength.

At every corner, I was closer, but they seemed to disappear as they rounded the next, always turning again, always rising into the air or falling to the ground. At one point I thought I almost caught the specialist with my whip, but then an unfortunate brawler smashed into me with its teeth. It was now a splatter of blood on the cracked pavement below.

On my third round trip about the Central Park Zoo, I noted a second tail, on the ground, pursuing the pair. I thought perhaps to shout a greeting to Durant, but he already dove head first into an evolved, who threw him against the ground. I spared no time for him, not even as he lost the fight; there were still plentiful of his brethren nearby.

The military snipers shot at the specialist, but he was too quick, just a tiny dark that flashed past. I briefly took the chance to take in the formation of the army and their row of tanks and artillery. Each man was grim, each hand steady, each weapon loaded. But I could only hope they were truly ready. The armies of the infected were never stronger.

Something zoomed past my face, in a flight of darkness. Gunners did not notice me as he dove, for the military battalion lined up. He must have had a death wish, since that right there was about two hundred people loaded up to fight a war but were too afraid of causing collateral damage and injuring allies to fire. And he was going for the middle of it like a fly to the Venus flytrap.

Yeah, he was mad. He was going to be swatted down by enough firepower to decimate this entire street. There was no point to try to save the ten men he might kill, until I saw the man in the center, who stood tall and brave against the incoming prototype. He flipped on his mask and drew his weapons, a pistol and a sword.

"Shit," I cursed, and abruptly changed my course midair by using my whip and a building as a wheel. Gunners let out a shout of war. I watched in horror as at least a dozen evolved responded, finishing up what remained of their last opponent, and joined him in his charge. One I took down almost immediately, not looking up as my blade bisected him down the middle.

Vinson shot at Gunners, who weaved in the air, avoiding a hail of gunfire and some flak cannons. Two blades were extended, a scream of fury and a dive of freedom. Vinson was smart to roll aside, or else the charge that left the pavement cracked could have easily left his head cracked. Bullets ripped into Gunners, who lashed out in a circle, cutting four men down like weeds. Vinson slashed the air in a challenge.

"Lieutenant Gunners, you are found guilty of treason and murder. Your sentence is death."

Gunners laughed, as though that was the best joke he'd heard in a lifetime. "Good call, captain. But I think you will need a lot more than authority and words to beat me."

He lunged forward. Vinson raised his sword and deflected the blade, but it carried farther than he anticipated, cutting his bicep.

"You're getting sloppy, old man!"

He sprung again, but I was there, falling from the sky, with perfect timing. Vinson raised his sword again, to deflect the attack that never came, eyes closed. My lance pinned Gunners to the ground, still scratching and clawing. He tried to extend his arm to slice Vinson in half, but I stomped on his hand and mortared it like a bug. He growled and buckled, but all he succeeded in doing was to impale himself even more.

He roared, while still attempt to shake me off of him. "You are blind, Snow! We will take this world from Mercer and give it to the people! He won't be able to make it his playground!"

"Yet you follow blindly in Peterson's name, who is too cowardly to come and fight his own battles. What could he offer this world? Isn't he the reason Mercer is all stirred up again after his peaceful moment?"

A shot rang through the air. Gunners didn't reply; he was dead. Vinson holstered his pistol with a grim darkness on his face. I didn't let go of the dead body. "That's enough. You can't interrogate a dead man." He turned to walk away.

"Why did you kill him?"

He looked back. "Because someone had to kill your demon for you. Or else you will just turn into the same monster." I stared at his back while he shouted orders to other people. "I don't care! Just shoot down that Blackwatch man!"

That snapped me back. Though Gunner's suicidal charge failed, Carson was still fighting with the specialist. I looked to where the artilleries were pointing, in the sky. High above the building was the specialist, his jetpack barely able to keep him aloft with the hanging man latching on below him, a wild snarl on his face. I watched a spiked boot kick down, once, twice, but he didn't let go.

Instead, Carson reached up with his claws and grabbed the man's chest in a massive fist. The specialist didn't seem too concern, instead spreading his arms. From his forearms erupted a legion of flying blades, circling the pair of them in their own ball of sharp metal. They began to cut into Carson, each slash deeper, each slice more fatal.

But he was not going down so easily. Carson began to squeeze and harden an armor. The flying blades became stuck in the reinforced skin. He raked the metal suit with claws, only to watch it bounce off with sparks. Then he punched the other man, rocking both of them back. And another punch, this time they dipped a little. Another, they swerved like haywire fireworks.

But it was not the specialist who fell. Despite all his rage, Carson was dropping. I could practically see the bloodtox cloud the specialist injected into him, and the poison that seeped from his open wounds. I was racing forward, to catch him, or at least as a last honor. Then explosions rocked the sky. The cannons filled the air of the victor with shells. He would survive, no doubt, because that suit made him as resilient as a prototype, but that didn't even matter anymore. I shielded my eyes from the chain of light that lit up the sky. The Loyalists had fallen.

"You know what I always thought of that day?"

"What?"

"It shouldn't have taken so many lives to fight out the fight between the two of them. That was just stupid."

"Well, guess what? This is war. Shit happens in war, and we're just gonna have to accept it. They might be fools to follow, but they chose to be fools to the end."

"Second warhead coming in!"

The missile sailed fast and true, landing a 3-pointer into the Order's maw, all net. A second later, the bottom of the pit erupted in its own personal volcano. Even from high above, I felt the heat and the power unleashed by the thermobarbic explosion. So did the juggernaut that had planted itself in front of me. When it shifted its deformed head to look, I dove in and slice off an arm.

"Roar!" it blew into my face.

In response, I gave it a good kick in its oversized belly. It tumbled off the side of the building, comically swinging one arm, attempting to balance its disproportionate size. Unfortunately for it, the building, already burnt and half crumbled, could not support its weight on a ledge. The entire section of the wall collapse down.

I carefully peered over the edge. There was a faint splatter of blood under a ton of stone. "So much for that."

Unfortunately, "that" was only a small part of the problem. Where the Order had dug their own grave now overflowed with evolved and prototype, scrambling out of their toasted home to be bombarded upon by helicopters. Gallegos probably decided there wasn't enough allies left in the horde to worry about casualties, so gave order to fire. Artillery shells flew high into the sky, almost reaching the fiery behemoth in the heavens, then fell, in rains of explosions. The streets were now mostly craters and chunks.

Amongst those exited was Peterson. He looked ever so holy in his still clean robes, though his face was no longer the serene beauty, but murderous rage. He looked at the carnage, then the tanks that still blew the streets to bits. Two prototypes beside him had to physically restrain him so he didn't suicide too at the guns. Looked like someone finally had enough sense to obtain bodyguards, not that it would do him good.

I leaped to the next building, and the next, then the next, until I was almost sitting on top of him, just a block away. From here, I saw that the Central Park suffered a mini apocalypse of its own. Two large tendrils, with split mouth lined with teeth, came from the ground. They towered over the infected and the evolved alike, biting at anything within range, and occasionally tossing chunks of rocks to compensate for their lack of mobility. A bomber jet dove in and swept the entire park in flames, but one of the hydras managed to catch it with a quick tongue. The plane spiraled out of control.

I considered diving down, and hopefully, with the element of surprise, I might be able to smash both prototypes on my landing and jar him enough to take him out. But on the other hand, it seemed rather unlikely.

Another round of bombs fell. I was lucky the building I perched on didn't collapse.

As if luck heard me, there came the prize. The specialist flew in like a dark wind, narrowly dodging a hydra's tongue, and launched a disk down at Peterson. He dove out of the way. The prototypes on either side tensed.

How nice. While they get distracted, I kill Peterson.

Too bad the real world wasn't perfect. A brawler leaped up at me, forcing me to kick it away or have my foot gnawed off. It was rather persistent, too, coming back for seconds, then a third. After it clawed my leg, I swept downward with a whip, which hit the brawler's head with bone-shattering force. It fell after that, limp, dead. Oh well.

The specialist weaved in between the two prototypes, so fast they could not catch him. One of his arms extended to be a long blade while the other controlled a storm of shrapnel that encased them. One of the prototypes doubled over when he threw some sort of dart; bloodtox flowed like river from the point of contact. The other spun forward with a punch that launched him into the air. Perhaps it was luck again, or just pure coincidence, but tanks fired another barrage of shells just then. The specialist looked up to see the incoming missiles, but could not burst away. Something exploded midair, and the smoking form of the specialist flew like a bullet into another building. The entire structure collapsed on top of him.

I grimaced. I took another look down. It was quite far of a distance to fall.

But of course, there was no time to think too much. Below, Peterson was jogging away, most likely to leave this devastated city behind. After all, it didn't look the part of a vacation resort, especially with a city of armed forces who would fire on sight and a balloon of death hanging overhead. I jumped down. Time to finish the game.

"Please, I need you to promise me this: don't turn me. Please, I beg you. I can't live with myself if you do. I'm sorry."

Luck loved me; Karma did not.

The ground came up, rushing at me with the speed of a freight train. There was a strange creature below. It looked like a juggernaut, even taller, but it was painfully thin, with sticks for body and limbs. However, it had too many limbs. A forest of arms reached to grab an evolved, who danced away, horror on his face. The creature tried again, but the evolved was retreat, unwilling to touch something so absurd or horrid. I was in part hesitant myself, but I promised myself I would probably crush its stick of a body on my way down and not think about this strange creation.

Luck positioned that I would land in such a way that the creature did not see me, but Karma decided I would not land at all. A blur tackled me from the side, painfully sending me flying in its momentum. We snapped a light pole, broken by my back, and an evolved, again broken by my back, then carved a trench in the ground, needless to say what made it. The obsidian form that held me stabbed down with a blade for arm. I barely raised my own arm in time to deflect it into the ground beside me, though scratching my hand in the process.

I had never realized how strong brutes were until now. When I scrambled to my feet, it hit me with enough force to make me fall again, disoriented from the blow. Its blades were razor sharp, cutting through asphalt with bare resistance. From one second I was blocking a cut, to the next when I was flat on my back, staring into the expressionless and featureless mask that was its face, I thought I saw death. It cut at me with its scythe. I tried to retreat, but there was a wall of stone. I couldn't go up or down, something was holding me. I raised an arm to shield my head.

But the creature didn't attack. It only stood, motionless, a statue of shadows. I dared to peek up. Then, without warning, it fell, face forward, limp. I managed to catch the blade so it didn't impale me, but the thousand-pound monster that collapsed on me wasn't any better. I gave it a good shoved and watched in satisfaction as the lifeless husk tumbled away.

Then I rose to find my savior. Strangely, there was none.

All around me, monsters fell, dead. The many handed abomination, a hundred yards away, that had only terrorized the world with its existence a minute before, lay on the ground, resembling a strange caterpillar. Brawlers were motionless on the ground, aside the juggernauts and their eternal sleep. I alone stood in the graveyard, so quiet, so still. It was wrong, that apocalypse was so quick, so silent. There was no great fire or powerful explosion, only a dreamless sleep. In the sky, the titan was no longer fighting. It hung, equally dead, slowly floating away. Bird fell in downpour of flesh.

That was it. For some reason, the infected were dead. The unstoppable army had killed itself.

Then where was Alex Mercer?

"Him? No, he was good. We were all played, like pieces on a board by him. But he wasn't really evil, or even bad, for that matter. He was doing what he saw as a necessity. No matter who was sacrificed along the way, but he needed her back, so he took her back."

Peterson was in the middle of the street, looking equally bewildered. He stared at the dead, nervously glancing at the shadows, as though afraid he expected something to jump from their depths. His face was haunted with darkness, his eyes twitchy, his movements jerky.

The one remaining bodyguard pushed the corpse of a juggernaut aside and dusted his hands. He looked to Peterson for order, but found that the man had none. He took an unsure step toward his patron.

"Sir…?"

The blade came from above. He never saw its passage through the air, nor felt its pain. The specialist had taken a toll on him, so just in a flash, the bodyguard was gone, absorbed into the blooded demon that stood in his place.

Peterson whipped around. His eyes widened for a second, then narrowed. "You can never give up, can you, Snow?" I gave no response. "Well, then, if you must finish this fight," he point an arm at me. It lengthened into a blade, sleek and death, "then come and finish it!"

With a roar, he lunged at me.

I had expected the attack, though not the ferocity of it, and so was not able to dodge it, letting it scratch my ribs instead. He spun, cutting horizontally. I raised my own blade, breaking the swing. The force of the block cut sparks into the air, showering us in its golden light. The ground at my foot crumbled into loose stone as I tried to stand upright. He did not stop there, continuing to put his strength behind the blow, pushing me back step by step. I fought to stay with every inch.

He roared into my face.

Within his eyes were the blackness that was the end of life. It was tainted with all the madness of the mind, the streaks of anger, the strokes of insanity, the layers of hunger. The pinpoints within the darkness were far, so far away. They sucked in all light, all life, all happiness, all sanity.

I shifted my body to the left and let him push himself forward to the right. He rolled as he stumbled and landed on his feet, sweeping back with the board of his blade. I vaulted over him, landing behind as he turned and pierced his back with my hand, through and through, like a pike. He tried to shake me off, but I peeled away the hand like a flower, trapping him on my arm. He kicked back, missed, and loosened his mass, letting himself melt away like a sludge then reforming ten feet away.

But he didn't expect the biobomb planted in his chest. He snarled at me, slashing the air. From here he was not the regal man, but an animal. His robes were no longer white, stained with grim and blood, tattered and scraped. His hair was no longer perfect and groomed, wild and unruly. His mouth opened to reveal a deep maw and a tongue of sharp, jagged teeth.

Then the bomb exploded.

It blasted out of his chest like a grenade, blowing a hole from his front to his back. I followed in with a kick, but even in his destroyed form, he had lightning reaction. A broken hand grabbed my foot and smashed me to the ground. He stomped down, crushing a rib. I grunted in pain and slashed up, with a blade of scales. He expected an blade, though not one that bent to slice his throat. So he seemed to melt away, clutching at his neck. I slowly stood up, watching him carefully.

His haunted eyes found mine again. The emotions were gone, leaving behind just the darkness and its stars. "What are you waiting for?! We both know only one of us is leaving this city alive! So come and finish it!"

Again, he launched himself at me, clearing expecting me to deflected the strike. Instead, I kicked up, throwing up gravel and stone into his face. While he was blinded, I evaded his clumsy strike and stabbed him in the chest. He howled in pain and tried to spin away. Then I stabbed his hip, tripping him to the ground.

His body erupted into snakes. They bit at me, chewing through flesh like acid. I took the pain and grabbed a handful of offending snakes. They struggled like worms in my hand. Then I severed them. He howled again. The sound was a crazed scream, poisoning and bitter.

He kicked up, sending me flying back. It hurt to land on concrete, even more to roll away to avoid being impaled on the sidewalk. His other arm had grown a second, small blade, cutting at me with no less speed than the larger. A gash opened my thigh, a slit was on my stomach, a nick on my face. I fought back, a whip and a sword. A ring of holes opened on his bicep, a slash on the jaw.

Then I began to tip my weapons with poison.

The second graze on his chest forced him to take a step back. The whip danced across his midsection, opening more wounds, applying more toxin. When he tried to counter, his movement was sluggish and slow. I kicked at his shin, cracking and breaking it. He fell, but a hand grabbed his throat and lifted him into the air. He desperately try to stab me again, to break my grip. I gave him a rough shake, stealing his concentration. The blade was tracing lines in his skin now, with each cut deeper, and more noxious.

Strangely, even as his limbs began to lose feeling from the enormous amount of neurotoxin in his body, there was no remorse on his face, nor fear in his eyes. Instead, he stared at me with a mixture of respect and resignation.

"So it ends." His voice was not by any means loud anymore, just a quiet whisper that I struggled to decipher. "Well done, Anna Snow. You have proved yourself to be the better, the fitter." I cocked my head, not understanding where he was going. "I have already accepted my defeat, from the moment that Alex Mercer rose again. Yes, in that moment, I knew this is a battle I would not win. After all, he made us, each and every one of us." He closed his eyes, reciting, "'Loyalty to the Maker, for his gift. Rebellion is sin. Rebellion is death.'" He laughed. "How often do you hear those words? 'Rebellion is death.' We were already dead from the moment we chose our paths against him. But that is not what I'm trying to tell you." He looked at me in the eye, but his were not black, just human, blue, human, tired, "I have already accepted my defeat, but will you accept yours? Mercer has played us all, from the very beginning. He didn't care whether I live or die, or even you live or die. He has plans within plans. Everything I did, or you did, are because he wanted it so." I stared, not quite comprehending. "That's all I will say to you. Goodbye, slayer, but I will not be caged like an animal inside your conscious."

I had a split second to drop him and scramble away, then he exploded, from the center of his body, exactly where I planted my biobomb. Tendrils launched in every direction, shattering stone, breaking concrete. My shield was barely able to deflect the attack, my own attack. When I looked again, Peterson was dead, the hole in his chest as though someone had carved it with a crude knife. Finally I understood. He knew the biobomb was there, but he suppressed it. Instead, he had blown himself up, with me, no less. Oh, he knew he had lost, and graciously accepted death. I only wish I can, too, love death like a family.

Was this it? That. That dead man, staring at nothing with his defeated eyes, yet somehow won? Was this the end of it all? Mercer's army was dead, the majority of the Order, along with its head, dead. Mercer himself had presumably ran away and surrendered when he killed his own titan. There was nothing left. So why did I get the feeling that something was not quite right?

The shot rang out from nowhere. So engrossed in the dead man before me, I had not noticed that they arrived. A helicopter dropped a single person down. Major Gallegos strode casually forward, her gun smoking, while I fell, a bloodtox bullet stuck somewhere in my body. She had changed somewhere along the way, now wearing a full-body metal suit.

"Poor man, Ronald. I would have never guessed he would have died in such a terrible way. By your hand, no less," she said, pointedly, at me. I could not respond, growling at her under my breath. "He won't trouble us anymore. Now to business: you." Her gun pointed back at me. I stilled.

"What do you want?" I managed.

"Oh, you have no idea of your value to us." I stared, confused. "Your special genetics allowed you to become one of the strongest infected we have ever seen, short of Mercer himself. So of course, we will a sample of you." She smiled, the sinister shadow on her face. "So we can return to the glorious old days, when they," she snarled, pointing into the sky, where helicopters buzzed back and forth like bees, "couldn't interfere with our plans."

"What?"

She smiled again, like a mother to a naïve child. "You still haven't figured it out yet, huh? Tell me then," she grabbed her chest piece, and with a grunt, tore it from its place. Beneath was more armor, and a symbol, a winged star, shone like the sun in the cloudy sky. "Recognize this symbol?"

"Blackwatch…" I whispered, sudden realization coursing through me, along with the horror and disbelief.

"Yes," she smiled, widely, "us. We were once the greatest military power in this nation! And the best to contain infected like you." She didn't like me. "But the powers have shifted. The fool," she seemed to be remembering, "he took us from our place. Oh, I will certainly enjoy the look on his face once he realizes the true power we controlled, and still control."

I had no idea what she was talking about, but felt the need to say something anyways. "Fate has decided, then. Guess you just have to deal with it like everybody else."

She sneered. "I don't think so. See, with your DNA, we can restart Project Orion, and force these incompetent bastards from our place. Now, if you will excuse me, I shall need a sample of your blood."

I smiled. "Then come and get it."

I'd thought she was no more than another overzealous person, hoping to get a piece of me. Unfortunately, I thought wrong. She was just as good, if not better, than the specialists I faced. When I dove forward, she burst into the air and launched a streak of rockets at me. I rolled to dodge the explosions, then jumped back to avoid the sword she swung.

"You are nothing! Did you think just because you can kill a soldier or two of mine that you can defeat me?!"

"Oh, shut up already! At least if I die I won't have to listen to you anymore."

She snarled and charged again. I met her, blade for blade. Unfortunately, her ability to fly at will made her a lot more agile than me, so I was forced on the defense. She grew more and more confident with every swing. When she opened her mouth to taunt me again, I dashed in and kicked her right in her ass of a Blackwatch logo.

"That'll serve you some good."

She got up from where she landed, fifty feet away, anger on her face. "I won't be taking insults from a child such as you." I dodged the first spear, but the second managed to pierce my arm. From where it contacted, electricity burst out, numbing my left side. I had time to snap the rod in half to duck under a shock grenade that flew my way. It exploded in a flash of blue somewhere behind. Then she was in my face again, her bloodtox-edge blade slashing through my arm twice. I hissed as it burned. In turn, my blade hit her armor, and though it was almost invulnerable, it was not immobile. She was knocked into the air.

I followed.

In the brief second of separation, I saw that the army that had taken an interest in the fight. Soldiers had their guns raised, though whether the hesitancy was from me being their ally or their turned commander was a mystery; no one dared to take the first shot.

Gallegos met me with a flamethrower. The fire was hot, but not hot enough that I would run from. I grabbed her arm where the flames erupted and squeezed. The machine sparked and died. Feeling a bit better, I looked up and saw a spiked fist.

I raced back into ground, shocked at her superhuman strength. Her punch was strong enough to dent a tank, no less. I had definitely underestimated that suit. I rolled away from where her next punch shattered the ground, but did not find my feet. Instead, her boot found my butt and the next thing I knew, I was sailing into the air again. I twisted instinctively, and felt the blade that would have bisected me instead open up another cut along my waist.

I landed awkwardly, flat on my back, a blade on my chest and a boot on my stomach.

"So much for you," she said, in distain, "I thought Mercer's favorite pet would have a little more fight."

"Back at you, coward. You waited until I had worn myself out against your specialist, then the infected army, then Peterson."

She glared. "Talking won't save you this time. I will not be played like a fool, like Mercer had had you and dear old Ronald over there." She raised her sword. "This won't be the last sacrifice I make." I braced myself to kick her off of me.

Then her face exploded.

One moment, she was staring daggers, the next, within her helmet there was nothing but a stain of red. Blood exploded like a fountain, drenching me. Her sword fell, which I deflected off a shield to avoid being impaled by a dead person's blade (how embarrassing). Her body convulsed, then toppled back and lay still, as dead as all the other infected around.

Vinson was only a bit farther away, calmly holstering his pistol. The soldiers around him were still as ever, as though all feared to look at the executer of their major. "Casualty of war, boys. I won't have any of those Blackwatch scum where I serve."

"Well, I guess this is goodbye, then."

He nodded faintly, as though he couldn't believe it himself either. He had one foot in the helicopter, the other still firmly on the ground. The pilot was talking on the radio, about some sort of scheduling errors. He shouted impatiently to the other end, calling them a "bunch of useless fucks."

"Yes." He swallowed, as though unable to utter the words that would come next. "So where will you go now?"

The question took me by surprise. "Me? I never really thought about it. I guess my plan was to die with Peterson. And I almost did." A lump caught in my throat. "Thank you."

He didn't reply for the longest time. "You know, when us soldiers fight together, some sort of bond forms between us." In his eyes was a wistfulness, or maybe I was mistaking the gratitude or possible admiration. "Welcome to the family."

Inside, the pilot had stopped his argument to poke his head back. "Captain, we need to be going now!"

Vinson nodded. "As soon as I take care of one more thing." The pilot didn't look at me as he returned to his position, flipping switches and doing unnecessary engine checks. Sudden he straightened, and snapped a salute. "It's been an honor serving with you, Ms. Snow. I hope you know I am glad that I met you."

I smiled at his formality and followed his gesture, though of course not as refined. "Back at you, Captain."

The helicopter took off, and was soon as black dot against the sky. I waved, just a small gesture, and wasn't too sure if anyone saw. But it didn't matter. It was all over. There was no more war. There was no more deaths. There was no more tragedies.

In the sky, the stars fell, like a great rain of red. Around me, the graveyard of the Order waited, so kindly in its patience, for the end. Peterson still stared at nothing, but I was not missing the faint smile on his dead lips. Gallegos was motionless, the sword stuck in the dirt like a monument. The destroyed buildings were weeping out their last farewells.

I smiled. There was only peace on that battlefield of the dead, where everything stood so still, everything so natural, everything so quiet. I spread my arms and welcomed the bombs that fell from the skies, to erase the Order from man's history.