Vae Victis- Woe to those who are conquered.
Burning. Fire, death, and the acrid smell of flesh stripped away by flame and chemical.
Darkness. Fluttering smoke and flying dust, light only found where death lurked.
Life. Fighting, dying, each individual struggling to hold back the void.
The Siege of Mariposa has gone on for nearly a month, each day bloodier than the last as the Americans would switch between Besiegers and the Besieged. In the morning, attacks from outside would whittle away at them, and in evening their attacks would force the defenders further into their hell pit. Mutant and Man would clash, each side claiming victory, though only the Mutants truly believed their Master.
During mid-day, when each side licked their wounds, fresh recruits would come by vertibird, and the mutants would further barricade themselves within the Old-World research lab. During these lulls, the soldiers of America would wonder whether the next push would see them dead, whether the next mutant they saw would be the last thing they saw.
The battlefield would seem familiar to many of the ancient warriors of America, nearly two hundred years before. Trenches dug to shelter attackers advancing were now pointing outwards, to hold back the green tides that battered them. Craters and casings would signal an area where resistance had been fierce, and corpses littered the ground.
American bodies were collected each night, and flown away when the newest soldiers arrived. Mutant corpses were burned to stop disease from festering, and those unlucky enough to be disabled were sent to labs for dissection and testing.
Mariposa refused to fall.
The President reads various papers scattered across his desk, each telling a different story.
Crop gains in the north, new anti-mutant weaponry, raids across the borders they shared with the "Brotherhood".
He calls a secretary, "Charlotte,"
"Yes sir?"
"Call up the good Doctor, will you?"
"Right away sir."
He sighs, and runs his hands through his hair. He thinks "The Doctor had better have good news for me."
The Doctor enters. 'Yes, sir?"
"Where are we on solving the mutant problem?"
"Well, sir, If you'd just let me create the mutagen"
"The one that would kill countless civilians outside of our borders? That would make us no better than them? No."
"Then I have no quick solution! The F.E.V makes them immune to nearly any disease or poison we can come up with! The only thing that even affects them is that cloud that comes every few months, and we have no idea where it comes from!"
"Why don't we?"
"What?"
"Why don't we know where it's from?"
"(silence)... We haven't looked?"
"I think we have your new main objective, Doctor. Find the source of this "Cloud" and figure out how to synthesize it. You are dismissed."
"Yes, sir".
The Master is not pleased with his army's performance. Inch by inch they are being pressed back, and even the legions outside of his sanctuary can not assist him. Their grasp of tactics akin to a small child playing army men.
He needs to leave Mariposa.
Luckily for the Master, his nightkin are all a league above those who would destroy him.
He orders them to search for a way to transport the F.E.V, and a place to hold it. They leave the chamber with nothing but a small cloud of dust to mark their passing, each completely dedicated to his cause.
Humanity will evolve, whether they want to or not.
In a shadowed room, monitors flicker to life. A council of industrialists, generals, and technologists formed before the war once again comes to conference.
"The Mutants are faring better than expected."
"So It would seem. Their "Master" is more competent than we had projected."
"An impossibility that has proved itself possible. How could this have happened?"
"It can absorb others. Maybe it absorbed a general, or special agent?"
"That is one explanation. But our "President" is no incompetent himself. What if he is holding something back?"
"We would know. Assuming your spies are still in place..?"
"They are. His efforts are focused on saving the degenerates AND killing the Mutants."
"A lofty goal."
"Indeed, but what does he gain in saving them?"
"Soldiers, Citizens, territory.."
"Killing those outside his enclave and opening the vaults would do the same. Why save the people who were meant to die?"
"Perhaps, perhaps he feels he needs to hold to some sort of ethical code?"
"Bah. All of his speeches and bluster are covers for what he truly is- A monster no better than the Mutants. You all know what he did in Mexico."
"Regardless, he still needs to be stopped. Have the German vaults been cleared for opening yet?"
"The Control vaults have."
"The others?"
"All operating within expected tolerances. All experiments are still in effect".
"Good. I'd hate to see His efforts contaminate our plans any further."
"What if he is trying to "save" the world?"
"What?"
"What if he is genuine in his "Crusade"?"
"Then he is a fool and Idealist. Are you sympathizing with him?"
"No. But success depends on forethought, dispassionate calculation of probabilities, accounting for every stray variable, and His motivation is indeed a variable."
"I see. All of you have your tasks then. Complete them. This council is adjourned."
Deep underground, within the Bunkers of the Brotherhood, a similar meeting is occurring.
"The Enclave has stalled."
"What do you mean?"
"The mutants have them stuck. If they send fewer soldiers, they'll lose their foothold. If they send more, We can take more of their tech."
"We should make a push then"
"To where?"
"The west. Those bunkers we were "gifted" are relatively undefended. More soldiers would help in securing them, as well as any other installations we may "Stumble" across."
"You know something, don't you?"
"Our "Benefactors" may have a vault full of advanced tech that we could "find"."
"All in favor of paying out "Helpers" back?"
Every member raises their hand.
"Then we shall begin preparing an "Expeditionary" force. Make sure they have some of that new armor we "scavenged" too."
Short chapter, I know. Long update time too. I apologize to all of you who are still taking time to read this, even though I've written comparatively little in a long span of time. I have no excuse.
I'm going to do my best to get a chapter out a week in penance, though odds are I'll slip up again .
-The Captain