Prologue
Chapter II - 'Echo Squad'
~ Lizzie
~ 8 minutes later
The walk to the hangar was uneventful, which was more a boon to Lizzie than usual. It gave her more time to think and reflect on her and Dizzy's small midlife crisis talk about her fears; the Swarm, her comrades, her family.
Even when she broke out into the open concrete field that served as the Garrison's connection hub between the many indoor facilities and outdoor training and leisure spots, she drowned out the background ambience of the droves of Gears populating the vast courtyard; the thunderous echoing melody of DeeBees marching in perfect unison around the courtyard and the loud purrs of Minotars, Packhorses and Armadillo APCs rumbling past as they chundered along to numerous points in the Garrison.
She paused where she stood, and turned her gaze to look at the New Ephyra skyline. The humanity reconstructed from the brink of extinction and the people within were living a normal life, utterly unaware of the nightmare now lurking down below. Lizzie's lips quirked into a sad smile. Her uncles died, and Clay and her dad fought long and hard to bring this tomorrow about for her and all of the other new generation that didn't have to grow up in the horror of that today...and now the COG found itself at war, once again, and everything they built was now at risk, once more.
"Soldier. You are obligated to report to Garrison Hangar 0-31 for priority debrief. Loitering and failure to comply is a form of minor insubordination, and will be reported to the nearest commanding officer." The deep, booming mechanical voice shook Lizzie from her reverie with a startled gasp, looking to her left to find herself staring into the breastplate exoskeleton of a DR-1- it's quadruple cerulean-lensed visage gazing emotionlessly down at her.
Fuck, she hated how by-the-book and bossy these robots can be. Whilst she didn't mind the newly-militarised Shepherd Peace Makers and their Deadeye sniper counterparts, everything about the colossal DR-1 units still rubbed her the wrong way, slightly.
Regardless, the machine was right, even though she'd hardly consider looking forlornly at her city for a few minutes 'insubordinate'. Running her fingers through her hair, she sighs and nods.
"Yeah, understood DeeBee...Private Elizabeth Carmine, on my way." Her words provoked a faint whirr in the DR-1,- it's visual eye nodes twitched and arched a few times- almost as if using her rank and full name may have updated its hive mind-like database for future reference. After a brief pause, the DR-1's strange motions ceased entirely.
"Your compliance is noted, logged and appreciated. Carry on, Private Carmine." And with that, the large droid's gaze snapped back ahead- like Lizzie had never entered its attention span, before it began to march off in solitary patrol.
She watched it for a few moments,- a somewhat satisfied sneer forming on her face, before she sighed with a grim nod.
"Well...time to face the music, Carmine." She muttered to herself, before turning on her heels to continue her path to the hangar.
Even when she had withdrawn her thinking once again, her peripherals told her she was nearing her destination; the courtyard had begun to make way for a sparse concrete plain that held no infrastructure, and the only Gears she could make out were all headed in the same direction she was. She only really switched her awareness back on when the looming shadow of the Garrison hangar began to loom over the concrete.
Despite her being an inhabitant of Tyro Garrison for a while, the inner engineer inside Lizzie is always baffled and in awe by the immense size of hangar 0-31; the vast aircraft storage facility was sizable enough to fit half a dozen DB Kestrel units tethered to the ceiling and a couple of Condor carrier aircraft on the surface within the hangar confines; the runway itself contained numerous bays for the King Ravens that was constantly populated by the pilots and COG greasers doing diagnostic checks, resupplying and refuelling, test flights and actual departures for aerial patrols, supply runs and policing the skyline; as expected, these personnel were also filing in towards the rapidly-populating hangar doors.
Lizzie instantly noticed the two large bulwark-like gates were already opened to their full extent; birthing the interior of the hold, and all the aircraft within, to full view.
The interior had seemingly already been prepared for the priority debriefing; the center where the mechanics would travers around had been abandoned in lieu of setting up an announcement podium lording over neatly-arranged rows of chairs.
The many dozens of Gears both in and out of armour that had begun to pool from the Garrison were filing into some measure of organisation; some opted to take one of the many chairs, some took a more humble approach of standing behind the rows. Regardless, it was also obvious to see every Gear was 'squading up'- with either friends or their actual assigned combat teams...speaking of which…-
Curiously, Lizzie came to a halt amongst the teeming horde of Gears, and began to scan amongst the many faces and helmets, hoping for by some slim chance to spot-
"Hey! Carmine!"
Bingo.
Lizzie's head turns to the bellowing voice to find the source; a red-headed kashkuri woman waving enthusiastically at her with a toothy grin. Lizzie allowed herself a warm smile; she found her family, all gathered by the row of chairs closest to the western door- situated near a series of rather cosy-looking hydraulic pumps, fuelling mechanisms and equipment chests.
Picking up the pace in her step, she narrowly sidestepped around a patrolling duo of Shepherds and joined the conglomerating conga-line of Gears.
The moment she crossed the threshold through the hangar doors, the daylight of the Tyran morning was cut away by the soaring insulated steel sky of the hangar inside- populated by four Kestrel DB helicopters and replacing the room with a cold, mint-colored light from the overhanging bulbs.
She continued to follow the ranks, until she broke away to stand by Echo-4,- her squad, who had seemingly waited at their cozy little spot for her.
The kashkuri gave her a light bump on the shoulder as she finally joined in, snickering teasingly.
"There she is.~ The hell've you been?- Wait, don't tell me; whinging over the fact I got to the bacon first because you were catching up on beauty sleep?~" She gives Lizzie a shit-eating and sarcastically-platonic smile, to which she responds with a simple middle finger.
"Suck a butt, Alvarez."
"That's a pretty solid 'yes', then.~" Private Ellen Alvarez gave a triumphantly-amused snort, which automatically brought a smile to Lizzie's tired face.
Born to a kashkuri family who inherited extreme wealth and nobility, Ellen had a particular disliking to the attitude of her parents due to their constant displeasure of her desire to not follow in the footsteps of becoming an heiress.
A tomboy at heart with a thrill of the wild, Ellen joined the COG to escape the gilded cages of noble life and became a frontline surveyor and scout,- meeting Lizzie very early on in the academy and boot camp, before both Carmine and Alvarez were eventually assigned to Echo-4, together; Ellen's skill with her customised Markza Mk.1 was remarkable and her enthusiasm was a consistent aura that lifted the spirits of her fellow Gears.
It also helped that she and Lizzie were always in some form of semi-bitter-yet-friendly competition over just about anything, but in their times in the COG together, they have always stood shoulder-to-shoulder and supported one another; rivals in arms, yet sisters at heart.
"But in all seriousness, the bloody hell's been keeping you? You're usually the first to everything. Now you're barely rolling out of bed until stupid-o-clock and have been acting so bloody weird. You've been like this for...a few weeks, now." Alvarez folded her broad arms across her chest; she was out of her armour- dressed in a simple green vest top in khaki cargo trousers with her medium-length red hair tied into a bun.
Lizzie scratched the back of her neck awkwardly, briefly looking at the ground as if a suitable explanation was printed there for her to recite to the three pairs of eyes on her.
"Well, it's...kinda hard to explain." Lizzie lamely says, provoking a canting of the head from Alvarez; the red-headed markswoman taking a shuffle forwards to softly place a hand upon her shoulder.
"Lizz...this ain't you. Where's the mile-a-minute jokes, electric confidence and adorable little mannerisms? C'mon, we're both Echoes...we're always here for one another. Spill to your best sister ever, Ellen." Lizzie lifts her eyes from the ground to stare into Alvarez's own, to see the woman giving her a fully-supportive, beaming smile. "We've been together since the academy, Lizzie. I'm always gonna be here for you."
Lizzie's lips curve upwards into a faint smile. Damn it, there was that suave yet sweet silver tongue of hers, again.
"Well...maybe we sho-" Lizzie began.
"Enough, you two; we can discuss our personal feelings, later, eh?" A stiff ostri-accented voice grated from the second figure,- a broad giant of a man dressed in a black compression shirt and his COG-issue combat trousers. Whilst his tone was flat, his face was soft and sincere.
Lizzie gave a soft, thankful smile to Sergeant Vasili Gorchev for shifting the focus off her, even with his abruptness.
Gorchev was a brash, yet wise and experienced soldier- a former fighter for the Ostri Republic during the final act of the Pendulum Wars, and held no personal agenda against the COG or the states they controlled. When the COG Open Arms program was initiated in the early days of the Locust War, Gorchev eagerly signed on- renouncing his tithes to the UIR and siding with his former enemies to destroy the Locust. Even twenty-five years on after the Locust War came to a pyrrhic end, Gorchev still serves in the COG army, fighting on the frontlines and in the trenches with his men despite his impressive dedication and leadership skills worthy of making him an officer; he even claims to boast turning down opportunities of said-officership a few times...a claim he consistently wears like a badge of honour; perhaps he just liked using his recently-acquired MK.3 Lancer GL and plethora of grenades and explosives just a bit -too- much…
Regardless, this only adds to his fierce determination and his fighting spirit. However despite the fact that whilst he is a loud, abrasive and angry man who primarily uses his muscles and explosions to do the talking, he was infamous to have a bit of a soft, elastic heart for those he considered friends; and more particularly harboured a special spot for Lizzie.
Gorchev reciprocated Lizzie's smile with a nod of the head, in which provoked a faint scoff from Alvarez.
"Really, Vas? Gonna get all sargey, now?" The grizzled former Indie looked at Ellen,- teasing her with a knowing grin.
"Oh, absolutely. Just because I know it annoys you, and there ain't a thing you can do about it." Lizzie watched the small exchange with growing amusement, then her eyes fell on the third and final member of Echo, and whilst her smile dwindled, she could swear her heartbeat was now getting louder in her eardrums.
"Why you always gotta be a cock, Vas? We have Benny-boy, here, for that.~" She unfolds her arms to ruffle through the hair of the final Gear who was currently reclining against a large tool chest. His face screws up into a scowl as he idly swats her hand.
"Fuck off, redhead." He snaps in a flat voice, which seemed to be the desired effect of Alvarez, as she snickers childishly, and even draws a chuckle from Gorchev.
Lizzie's eyes are met by the dark brown of Benik's own, and she is quick to avert her gaze- more to make it look like she was looking at him on the whole and registering his presence than actively scoping it out. He wore a simple pair of dark combat trousers and the frayed sage-green shirt he usually wears under his armour; short brown hair unkempt and his facial hair consisting of sideburns and a beard that never seemed to fully connect were recently trimmed. Unlike the other squadmates, he was purely Tyrus-born.
Private Benik Thorne was the youngest and newest of Echo-4, and probably the most complex. According to the grapevine, he'd been in the COG army for a good while, before the Swarm were officially confirmed, but went AWOL for a good month or two during the initial rise of the new Locust nightmare, only to be seemingly pardoned and reinstated- much like the legendary James Dominic Fenix.
A few of her colleagues speculated a manner of bizarre conspiracy theories to his story and why he was so hush-hush about it; Lizzie found herself believing the far-more-believable theory that he was aware of the Swarm long before the majority of the COG was, and went on his own mission against orders. Not like she knew the truth…
Benik was an extremely reserved man- what he didn't explain in words, his incredibly-expressive body language and facial gestures did, and he rarely spoke about himself. On the outside, he was of cynical, somewhat bitter and grim ideals- very much like her own uncle Clay. What baffled her even more was how he was only twenty-three years old and he carried himself like a veteran in their forties; he wasn't the biggest, strongest or most shrewd of men, but his skill with the tried-and-true Lancer and his penchant for close quarters fighting was something to be reckoned with. In the many weapons-free training exercises against DeeBees Echo-4 have participated in, Benik's bitterness had a habit of being channelled into a creepy battle focus and rage that makes him fighter harder, faster and more vicious than most Gears she's fought alongside.
In all honesty...Lizzie found that little 'gimmick' kinda sexy; the way the quiet and semi-brooding guy turns into a freak lumberjack-straight-outta-hell with his chainsaw, and how despite his awful hand skills with vehicle tuning (she had to held him with replacing the handlebars on his Ratbike, which he just so happened to break trying to adjust, himself), he can drop an empty Lancer mag and slam and lock a fresh one in within the same heartbeat.
It really didn't help that she was also partially attracted to Benik-...well, try majorly attracted. She couldn't tell it if was the short, brown hair, the incredibly-expressive chocolate eyes, the somewhat-average build in comparison to some of the tanks that are the usual COG Gear or his accent. It reminded her very much of Lieutenant Fahz Chutani, only it wasn't as harsh or obnoxious; kinda suited the vasgari officer perfectly.
Regardless, Benik Thorne's presence always served to make her cheeks feel hotter than necessary, and she goddamn hated not knowing why?
'Well...ma always said you had a fatal attraction to unhealthy boys, Elizabeth…' She thinks to herself- holding back a coy smile; she really didn't want to look like a stalker in front of him; they'd barely spoken apart from a few times.
She didn't have to speak to him to know he was always a tad uncomfortable being the focus of attention- that's mainly why she kept her mouth shut and never asked too many questions. In fact, thinking about it herself, she can't recall really asking him anything. It was mainly just...awkward small talk that somehow blossomed into a semi-stable conversation.
It's both interesting and confusing to Lizzie, as those few awkward times are sole suspects to why she's so desperate to find out more of him; why she finds him so damn attractive, even though he no doubt didn't share any mutual feelings or desires.
~ Benik
~ 2 minutes ago
He shuffled uncomfortably; his tailbone just happened to be positioned on a ribbed handle of the tool chest and no matter how he moved, it always seemed to feel like he was slipping a disk on the bastard.
Benik bit back an absent-minded swear, and instead busied himself with looking around the interior of the hangar, mentally counting all the visible tools some lazy twat left out of their rightful places and debating how much ammunition was inside each Condor gun, only to see the cables holding the fourth Kestrel on the ceiling looked suspiciously loose. His face sets into a bemused flatness.
'Fuck sake, can I just focus on one thing that isn't somewhat irritating or offering a potential predicament of injury?' He smiles to himself at the morbid thought,- eyes sentiently roaming, paying no mind to any of the slowly-amassing Gears; even the ones that acknowledged him with nods.
He wasn't ready yet to forgive the COG for how they disregarded him,- disregarded his family. The audacity they had to brand him as a rogue when he was just doing his job, only for them to now suddenly welcome him back with open arms and pretend to sweep everything about him being right from the start under the carpet.
He wasn't doing this for the COG, at this point, he was doing this because it was time for assholes to die- the scaly fuckers that took everything from him.
He didn't even realise until Ellen's accented drawl grated upon his ears that he was barely focused on the debate between Alvarez and Gorchev about one of their usual trivias. He hadn't really tuned in to what they were discussing; as much as they were his squad, he'd hardly call them friends. He'd only known them for a handful of weeks at best; they weren't Sierra-5.
He'd take a bullet for them and make sure they got out safe, for sure, but he wasn't going to offer them tea and biscuits anytime soon. Ever since it happened, he made it pretty clear his trust had to be damn-well earned; three extra heads don't get that right away just because you were assigned to them to compensate for what you already lost.
Ironically, that's when he noticed they were a head down and his focus began to return in full.
Benik casually and quietly turned his attention to the incoming ranks and files of Gears approaching the hangar,- keeping his eyes tentatively peeled for the telltale helmet of Carmine.
Elizabeth Carmine was considered the kid of Echo-4; that impression was plain as day the moment he first stepped into their shared barracks. Benik knew he was a topic to some of the gossiping types of Tyro Garrison; end of the day, it's not normal for a Gear to desert his post, go AWOL then suddenly be reinstated straight away like that. Not since the days his father served in the Locust War, that is.
But one thing he always noticed, is not once did the prodigal Carmine girl ever try to ask him about what his schtick was; not even attempting a clever way to shoehorn it into a conversation. Lizzie didn't treat him as a disgraced insubordinate turned fighting Gear; she treated him just...like a fellow Gear- another human being, and that was something he grew to respect. They only spoke outside of training and patrols a handful of times, and whilst the occurrences were short and somewhat awkward, they were sweet, and Benik did enjoy them- not that he'd ever admit it, of course; he had a reputation to maintain.
But still, regardless of his own personal code and desire to not get burned by getting attached, again, he couldn't help but grow to admire the young Private Carmine- she was a solid Gear in the making, just like her father (from the stories his own dad told him; the two had served alongside one another at a few points in the war).
She had the mechanical knowhow of a professional engineer, the handling of a capable fighter and the stability of a rock; a trait she no doubt inherited from the Carmine family tree. It was also a pretty substantial bonus that she was fucking gorgeous, with a fantastic arse.
Every time they finished a training exercise, Benik always somehow found himself mesmerised by how the black overalls clung to her shapely hips with that adorable, crappy jacket she always tied around her waist. And even though she adhered to the Carmine tradition of wearing her helmet, she'd be just as damn fine without one- that freckled face, her deep blue eyes, raven hair and a cheeky smile that always seemed to put a faint itch in his groin.
Yeah...Lizzie was one hell of a woman, and in the few weeks he's known Echo-4, he was willing to lay down his life for them, but more importantly, he was finding himself perhaps willing to trust the young Private.
A faint crack snaps him from his reverie as a palm crisply collides with the side of his head; Benik winces with a sneer- hand immediately coming to nurse his singing scalp whilst glaring daggers at the attacker.
"Wake up, Benny.~ You looked like you were seeing a ghost in bed. Or rather...something else -in your bed-. Whatcha looking for?" Alvarez teased as she folded her arms across her chest. Benik scoffed as he continued to idly rub his head. He couldn't knock Alvarez's skill as a sniper, but goddammit was she just the most obnoxious prat on the face of Sera.
"Jeezus...could've just spoken to me rather than lamp me upside the head, you twat."
"We did. You didn't answer." Gorchev interjects, staring at Benik with a bemused smirk. Benik felt his cheeks grow a tad warmer, and he sighed.
"Go on, then. What's so bloody important that your head decided to take a flight to La-La Land?" Alvarez repeats,- a knowing grin on his face. God, what a bitch.
Benik goes back to folding his arms and leans his weight back onto the chest drawer- a decision his back will no doubt berate him for, later- before nonchalantly turning his eyes back to the gathering of Gears amongst the line of chairs.
"Was keeping a mental count of how many Gears I recognised to drown out your ramblings about the Thrashball leagues." He says weakly. Even if the answer was a solid lie, Ellen still saw through it like glass- provoking a raucous giggle from the kashkuri woman.
"Oh, you're so full of crap! You were on the lookout for our dear Lizzie Carmine.~" She added a sultry tone to her voice, and the warmth in Benik's cheeks began to blossom into a small bonfire on either side of his face.
"Oh, shove off, Alvarez; not everything's as straightforward as you and Peters." He assertively grunts. Gorchev's eyes widen, and he turns to give Ellen a questioning stare. The red-headed marksman just shrugs with a coy smile.
"Wait...you fucked Peters? The Corporal from signals?" The ostri sergeant asked- father-like pride and humour in his voice. Alvarez's smile broadened.
"Hey. I'm twenty-eight and single; he's thirty-five and divorced. Smoke 'em if you got 'em." She gives Gorchev a firm nod and gives her hips a faint wriggle; Benik's eyes roll at the tedious gesture, and once again, lets his focus drift off as Gorchev and Alvarez begin discussing her rapidly-expansive sex life.
What pissed him off is just how correct Alvarez was...what annoyed him more is how she didn't ever tell Lizzie about the times he was caught out staring at her arse or face when she wasn't looking, almost like Ellen wanted to 'let things fall into place on their own'. Whilst, yes, he would very much like to just take Lizzie to bed, one night, it wasn't practical or feasible; they were at war, now...and Benik couldn't afford to let himself get distracted. A clouded head gets people killed, and given the fact he had a vendetta to fulfill, he needed to remain focused for the foreseeable future.
"Hey! Carmine!" Alvarez's voice carved through his thinking, once again,- shattering that said-focus-, and his gaze followed the calling of her voice.
There she was.
About a hundred metres from the hangar doors, Lizzie stood outside amidst the remaining stratas of Gears filing into the hangar.
'And she isn't wearing her helmet, either...' He hears himself think. She smiles that same damned smile, and begins making her way over. Keeping his mouth shut, he waits for her to approach- drinking in her choice of clothing and notices her hair. 'Bloody hell...she's fresh from a shower and still looks the way she normally does?' He inwardly scowls at his pervasive thoughts; fortunately, Alvarez had already stolen the limelight of Lizzie's attention, which allowed Benik to withdraw and not draw too much attention.
Time passes like a blur,- Lizzie gets reacquainted with Alvarez and Gorchev whilst Benik remains comfortably in the background. He wondered what this whole priority meeting was about...maybe the Swarm were on the move? Had the legendary Marcus Fenix passed away? His naive mind continued to spindle away half-arsed theories, until he felt Alvarez's hand through his hair once, again, shattering him from his reverie, once more.
"Fuck off, redhead." He snaps, and swats her hand away with a crisp slapping noise. Of course, that was the reaction she wanted, as that signature shit-eating grin plastered itself onto her mug, once again. Rolling his eyes, he chanced a glance over to Elizabeth only to find himself making perfect eye contact with her. He froze, only allowing himself a single blink before Carmine's quick to avert her gaze and make her look a little more aloof. Benik didn't let himself pull a face or anything, but he sure as shit noticed; he was many things, and one of them was perceptive and great at reading body language- given his own knack to let him use his own to communicate or express himself.
'The hell is going on with us two..?' He rhetorically thinks to himself, but decides not to make a comment; God forbid he'd say anything remotely about this in the presence of Ellen fucking Alvarez.
Their eyes meet again, and Lizzie follows up with a somewhat-shy smile. Once again, he finds himself like a deer in a Packhorse's headlights, and he does the only thing that seems natural at that current time…
He furrows his brows and his lips purse. This only serves to make her smile thicken slightly.
Giving in to what he really wanted to do, Benik allowed himself to crack a thin, fleeting smile, which seemed to earn him a repressed giggle from the quiet Carmine.
Alvarez's arm suddenly wraps around his shoulder, and brings him in, whilst the other limb wraps around Lizzie, and draws her in to the opposite side- rewarding her with a begrudged sneer from Benik.
"Well! The fam's back together, again! Echo-4, reporting for duty!" She cheerily sings. Benik didn't have to look left to know Gorchev was letting his face rest in his palm, but somehow, he still missed the distinguishable flush on Lizzie's cheeks.
He opened his mouth to shout another curse at Ellen, but the loud scraping of metal on concrete sheared through his train of thought. He found himself- alongside the rest of Echo and a few other dozen Gears- looking towards the wrought iron gates of the hangar slowly grinding shut- the last Gear stepping through the threshold to join the gathering.
The doors clamp shut with an echoing bang- all final traces of the warm Seran sun restrained to the outside world. The lights begin to dim inside the warehouse, and a voice calls on the claxon around the interior of the hangar.
"All Gears. Please take your seats or find a comfortable place to stand. The debriefing will start soon."
Alavarez's face hardens- the soldier overtaking the tomboy, and she is quick to release both Benik and Lizzie from her. Everyone in Echo exchanges a look and a nod to one another, before they all shuffle to get as comfortable as possible amongst their place with the tool chests and hydraulics.
The chitchat of Gears had dwindled to a quietened buzz as they began to file into the chairs or stand behind them.
Benik doesn't even notice Lizzie moving to stand behind him, his eyes fixed slowly on the podium in front of the rows of chairs with a grim resolve.
'So it begins.' He thinks to himself, bitterness and hatred beginning to swim in his blood.