"There are three types of people, The indifferent, the destructive, and the creative. I am not the first or last.
-Unknown, found inscribed upon a fallen helmet in Anchorage.
The storm had abated, and Jensen saw only death. The corpses of every creature outside his small refuge dotted the landscape. Hundreds of small animals who had survived the initial bombing nearly two months before were lying on the ground, their flesh melted and their bones faintly glowing. Never before had he seen such death. He retreated back into his shelter, thanking whatever gods remained for his shelter and armor. He was the only one. His last squad mate had died, the seals on his armor having been secured improperly in his haste to don his armor once the rain had started. He was currently locked upright in the corner, his armor holding his corpse up in a mockery of what he was in life. He was not alone, as the rest of the squad was similarly held up, though they were missing parts or perforated with rounds, grisly reminders of the men they had once been.
Jensen wasn't sure how much longer he could stand it.
Then his radio came alive, and he knew hope for the first time in a month.
"tsshhh...Encl...Centr...mmand If ther...re any ...vivors, repor...n...on chan...107.2..
Jensen hurriedly switched to the channel, and replied "Hello? this is Sergeant Jensen of the 1st Expeditionary team, is this who I think it is?"
A pause followed, and his heart sank slightly.
"Jensen? Holy hell, we thought you all had died! Where are you?"
"My squad has been holed up in a garage near old Navarro, can you send anyone to pick us up?" Another silence.
"We'll send a helicopter as soon as we can, but don't expect it for at least a day"
"A day?"
"Right, you don't know. We've been attacked by whatever is left of the Reds. A whole fleet just pulled up to the rig and demanded we surrender. I can still hear the fighting from here"
Jensen had no idea how to process that information. They had launched everything they had at the reds, and if they still had the ability to field a fleet of ships then the last bastion of America was in serious trouble.
Back on the oil rig, a similar attitude had sprung up amongst the civilians onboard.
"Alright, how do we deal with any further incursions by the Chinese? They can't be able to field entire fleets like before the war can they?" The president asked, worried about the possibility of a full scale Chinese invasion after they had just started to pick themselves back up.
"Well sir, the ships were very ramshackle, almost like they hadn't been to a port recently."
"So you're saying that these ships weren't sent by any organized group?"
"I'm saying that they likely were on the waters before the launch, and have been trying to figure out what happened since. They likely thought us an undefended oil rig. Luckily, they were wrong."
The oil rig had been equipped with numerous automated defense batteries, to repel any attacks from air or sea before the war. After it had concluded, the guns were overkill by comparison to projected threats.
"Should we expect more attacks?" The president asked.
"We aren't sure sir, the chinese had a navy much larger than ours before the war. It is likely at least a few fleets and submarines are still around, though with all the radiation about I don't know if they'd survive down there very long."
"Alright," said the president. "We will just have to increase our readiness. I don't want anything like this to surprise us again. Get radar teams set up and scanning the seafloor, and have extra men watching the ocean. They won't catch us with our pants down again." So the oil rig was further readied for war, and the American military machine finally regained its teeth.
A day later, and Jensen was finally able to leave his personal hell. Nearly a month spent amongst the dead and dying had not been kind to him though.
"What do you mean "Unfit for duty!? I'm completely fit! We need to go and clear out those traitorous bastards and their goddamn Caesar!" The doctors were concerned that Jensen's time on the mainland had unhinged him. They were not being proven wrong.
"Those motherf"
"Sergeant! Sit down and shut up"
"Who the hell are you!"
"I'm your commanding officer, and I said sit. Now do it!"
Jensen grumbled and sat in the folding chair he had been provided.
"Now then, while your Patriotism is admirable, we don't need to chase the Caesar."
"What do you mean we don't need to chase him! He's responsible for getting my entire squad killed! He deserves to die!" Jensen was shaking at this point, ready to strangle the man. CO or not.
"Because we already have him. We found his base inside the old Poseidon facility. A team has been dispatched. Your job in this is over." The officer allowed a silence to form, then spoke again.
"You are taking leave. You are going to go to your barracks, and you are going to be with your wife. Do you understand me?"
"Yes sir." Jensen was hesitant before continuing. "I just want to get my hands around that bastard's throat. I need to avenge my squad."
"Son, you're part of the enclave now. We take care of our own. You might be promoted to interrogator if you can behave until we recieve our first prisoner. But you didn't hear that from me."
For the first time in a month, Jensen was glad.
The Caesar's reign had ended. His band of deserters didn't have power armor, nor did they have proper shelter from the downpour of death that had come. His army was dead or dying, his solders either horribly mutated or simply insane from the pain. He heard them outside, groaning and shambling about. He himself was not untouched by the radiation. His already sparse hair had thinned to a few tufts around the crown of his head, his skin turning a pallid white. He didn't know how long he had, but he hoped the torture would end soon. All he had wanted was to rebuild, all he had done was destroy.
Squad Sigma had no such qualms, having long ago put aside morality in their duty to their country. They were not reservists, wearing cobbled together armor and fighting with projectile weapons. They were the single most deadly squad the United States had ever created. Their power armor could withstand a fat man, and their rifles could vaporize with a single shot. The remnants of Caesar's legion stood no chance.
"Out" A single word uttered, and they were unleashed upon the shambling groups below.
"Fire" Another word, and the ranks before them were thinned in a volley of weaponized light.
"Fix" The lasers had killed a large group, but now the rest were charging, ready to tear the squad limb from limb.
"Kill" The last word that was said. Bodies were tossed aside, limbs and heads being torn from bodies by hand, knife, or power fist. Decaying hands grasped at their armor, sliding uselessly off. Cracked fingernails sought breaches to tear but none existed. Each moan was followed by a gasping breath or tearing sound. Each sound followed by death.
Squad Sigma was the best group of soldiers America had ever created. The ghouls were ants attacking Gods.
A few minutes later, and the Caesar's door was thrown open.
Each member had been ready for armed troops or more shambling monstrosities. What they found was a broken and dying man.
Lesser men may have felt pity for him. Wondered what had brought him to such a state. Some may have killed hime, out of mercy or spite. Not Sigma. They hadn't cared about humanity for a long time. All that mattered were their orders. So they set about the process of stabilising him, those not directly involved standing like statues even without their power armor's inbuilt locks. When the would-be emperor had been stabilised, they gently carried him to the helicopter that had brought them. Their orders said to bring him back alive. He would soon wish they hadn't.
"It seems that our so called, "president" has ordered the Caesar brought to us." Said the first.
"You question this?" Asked the second.
'It may suggest weakness." Said the third.
'A willingness to conspire with traitors and miscreants" The fourth added.
"This means nothing." Said the fifth, "He is questioning a prisoner."
The first knew that the sixth, or "president" as he was widely known, would return soon. He needed to finish this discussion quickly.
"We shall see what he does. If he falls, so be it. The old world needs to die regardless of who is in charge when it happens"
"We ARE the old world!" Said the fifth.
"No," said the first. "We are the new world."
And so another chapter is thrown into the sunlight! Misused words and paper thin plots abound! Hopefully you guys are okay with waiting longer for chapters. I only have two reviews as of right this second, but the "I'm not a stalker" charts on my profile say there are a lot more people than that reading my story. Complaints or compliments, either way I change and improve my writing, so all you anonymouse readers should tell me how terrible I'm doing! Also, I'm unsure as to whether some of my descriptions would warrant an "M" rating. Thoughts? -The Captain