Blowing downwind from the serf camp came the revolt. Painted were their bodies with the blood of their work animals, whose spirits were sent to run with Eywa. The mob fell upon the unoccupied Homestead. A scout searched the cabins and confirmed all were gone, including Säro. With free rein of the grounds, the giants wasted no time to raid the homes for uniforms. It disgusted them to hide their bodies behind evil clothing, but their battle plan necessitated it. Once disguised, many worked together, utilizing rocks to break into the garage. Using the knowledge Zwefnawo ascertained spying on the recombinants, Tung'tay gained control of the RTV and rammed it into the munition's storage house. Now it was Reyneyat's turn, demonstrating to his brethren how to wield the surprisingly easy weapons, with their goal being to wreak as much damage as possible.
Before they could begin their attack, they required one last thing: the mandate of heaven. Eyes to the sky, they awaited the midday eclipse. Pandora hid behind her Polyphemus so Rigil Kentauru could not witness her shame, and night was given temporary reign. Taking their flint tools, the Na'vi lit their torches and threw them onto the cabins. The fire took hold of the dry wood instantly, and all of Homestead was set aflame. The fury ate everything, including The Secret Life of Pandora, which Quaritch had set on his cot.
The first part carried out, they boarded the RTV with some clinging off its side. Under the cover of darkness, few people noticed them barrelling past the secured domes as they sped towards a bridge; on the other side was the administration zone: their target. The RTV skid wildly over the bridge and onto the conjoining roads as people spun around in terror from the nightmarish sounds of screaming Na'vi brandishing rifles. Tung'tay crashed the vehicle through a vestibule of an office building, rupturing the seal and sending a wave of poisonous air into the lobby. In the pandemonium, people scrambled for emergency breathers, with many failing to reach one in time—casualties climbing before the first bullets were fired.
The serfs leapt from their transport and stormed down the street. For those unlucky enough to be outside at the moment were not only witnesses to the crack of hell widening but the first to fall into it. Grenades were thrown, and explosions ripped open many buildings as the Na'vi fired their machine guns, letting loose their salvo. Before long, the streets were filled with bodies, rubble and stalled vehicles with perforated drivers. The attack spread out, and new sections were taken. Inside heavily insulated structures, people were going about their jobs wholly unaware of what was happening outside until one of the insurgents found their way through the series of entrances; and even then, the hapless humans had only seconds to register the blood-smeared, shrieking giant.
Security cameras with motion detection began targeting the terrorists and projected to the denizens the unfolding events, but with darkness obscuring detail and the serfs dressed in tactical gear, shocked citizens only saw recombinants.
Ardmore was in the middle of her coffee when her secretary burst in.
"Ma'am." He panted. "The recombinants—" He panted again.
"Are attacking the city."
Her mug was lowered one inch from her lips. "The recombinants are out on miss—" Before she could finish, her secretary opted to just thrust his digital pad before her eyes, and the chief of staff was treated to the sight of militarized Na'vi massacering her race.
"Is Danyiels on this?"
"We haven't been able to reach him, ma'am."
Like that, she slammed down her mug, disintegrating it upon impact, and bits of ceramic skidded across the desk. She hollered into her intercom, "Announce CRAM level four! Alert all forces, including the reserves! Roll out the tanks and barricade all exits leading out of the administration zone. Now!" Ardmore then drew up a map.
"The recombinants have gone rogue," voiced a reporter, broadcasted from the digital pad left at her desk. She stared down at the screen that brazenly claimed the Deja Blus responsible for the attack.
"Whose writing that horse manure?"
"Serrano would've approved it, ma'am."
She was ready to hurl a rhetorical question, demanding to know why he thought he had the power to do that, when a light flickered on her intercom. Ardmore shut her eyes and issued a subtle exhale. With a reluctant finger, she pressed the intercom to talk with her superior.
Spider dismissed the entourage with a grumble once he finally reached the ground lobby; the sooner he was rid of the lady's goons, the better. His mind was like an orchestra pit during warm-up, with every instrument blaring in maddening discordance. Physically, he was doing better than he was mentally, so, by his own strength, he walked into the monochromatic space where his guardian family was kept waiting. When the married couple noticed him, both came to an immediate stand, relieved to see he was okay.
"How are you?"
"I'm fine," Spider told Mr. Thurston. "They worked their miracles on me."
"Did you see her?"
"See who?"
"Ms. Vandervelde!"
"Harvey?" Mrs. Thurston dared interrupt.
"Yeah, I saw her."
"Well?" When Spider did not reply, Harvey gripped his shoulders. "You weren't rude to her, were you?"
"No, sir," he mumbled, wanting him to let go.
The man did let go, breathing out the unnecessary tension that had been building inside of him. Presently, due to the father's distractions, the children were getting away with chasing one another around the lounge. The parents were ready to cease their fun and round them up when, out of nowhere, they heard screams followed by gunfire.
Sprays of blood suddenly exploded off people near the hall entrance, and the family shrieked. On reflex, Spider snatched one of the girls and hurdled a sofa where he had the Thurstons take shelter. A Na'vi man raced into the lobby, oscillating a machine gun. When the cartridge emptied, the insurgent hurled the weapon and drew out a tactical knife to assault the survivors. In his blood-thirsty hunt, he espied the Thurstons and aimed for the father. Spider leapt into action. He jumped onto the sofa and catapulted for the giant, grappling with the full-sized Na'vi and attempting to bring his arm around the neck for a rear-naked choke. The Na'vi kept reaching behind, attempting to throw off the Skyperson until he tripped over a coffee table, and both parties crashed to the floor. Wasting no time, Spider punched the face, but the back of his shirt was grabbed, and the next thing he knew, he was rolling across the lobby floor. Spider slammed against a wall, letting out a pained yell as his previous injuries flared anew. He was coming to his knees when he caught the unblinking dead staring at him, his body now wet from their spilt blood.
The Na'vi man recovered to his feet and locked eyes with his challenger. The human warrior reached for a chair and charged with a terrible roar. He swung the unconventional shield, and sparks flew off the knife as it clanged against the metal feet with Spider getting knocked back in the recoil, his barricade now pinning him down. Suddenly, the attacking blade pierced the backrest, stopping an inch from Spider's face. With all four limbs, the underdog raised the chair, freeing himself, and then slid under his opponent. Before the Na'vi could free his weapon, Spider clambered onto the blue back and pinched his legs around the abdomen. The Na'vi fell with a loud crash. Once again, Spider had the giant in a choke. Desperately, the Na'vi staggered onto his knees, already succumbing to the stale air and stretching for the knife just out of reach. The human screamed, exerting all his power to stop the assailant before he could gain hold of the blade. The body dropped, picked up, swayed and lurched. The quivering fingers finally secured the handle, then…nothing more.
The victor backed away from the twitching body, settling itself into death. He stood, shivering from the adrenaline and the cold blood soaking his back, with eyes fixating upon the repeatedly gaping mouth until it gaped no more.
Having seen to his family's safety, Harvey came running back into the lobby where he and others, who were coming out of hiding, discovered Spider standing over the defeated terrorist. All the father felt was overwhelming gratitude; he stumbled towards the man and raised his hand to reach for the shoulder, asking again as to his health.
Spider could hear the praises of the survivors but did not feel like the hero he was being treated as—not as he looked down upon the man he just killed. He was rid of his last delusion. Black and white merged into one nihilistic grey. There were no heroes or villains, only the "us" and the "them."
"I'm okay," he replied to Harvey.
Säro carried on in silence, content with making her baby's first adornment as CJ slept. With her sister off in another world and herself humming peacefully, the serenity in the room was almost tangible—until it fled. It didn't announce its departure and gave no notice as to why, but Säro sensed in her spirit when it slipped away. The expectant mother drew up to peer out the window. It was dark due to the eclipse, but even with her nocturnal eyes, she discovered nothing unusual across the street. Not satisfied, she pressed her palms to the acrylic to scan the left view for as far as she could—still nothing, so she turned her head the other way.
Säro screamed.
Vesuvian eyes were already searing into her when the killer made for his newfound target. She fell backwards onto the floor as a hulking body slammed against the wide window. Despite her senses flaring, she recognized the face—it was her clan brother, Reyneyat. Snarling like an enraged beast, he pulled away, and Säro heard muffled shouts seconds later. Then, rapid fire erupted against the transparent barrier. She clutched her ears to block out the horrifying rataplan. Trembling in fear that she would be facing the killer after he vaulted himself inside, she instead discovered the acrylic still intact. With trepidation, she slowly maneuvered her head to spy the threat; he was rallying men to him, then pointed her way before all figures took off in the same direction.
"Seezay! Seezay!" Säro cried as she staggered over to the bed. |"Wake up! My people are attacking the centre! Seezay!"| She paused from shaking her only to listen to the horrific bedlam of a massacre echoing from somewhere within the building. Säro shook her harder. |"Wake up, Seezay! Seezay!"| Yet, CJ, lost in her connection, would not stir. The Na'vi woman had to act; she gripped the queues.
CJ burst from her sleep with a yell and collapsed over Zhâng. "Säro? What the f—!"
|"My people are attacking! They're in the building! They are wearing your armour and using your weapons!"|
Regaining from the shock, the Marine reached for her pistol. With her weapon pointed down at her side, she hurried across the room, pressing her back against the wall beside the door. |"Säro, hide behind the bed and keep your head low."| CJ delicately worked the handle and wedged her fingers into the door crack, prying it open only a slice. With no enemies sighted, she ventured into the hall. The giantess carried herself swiftly and silently towards the lobby entrance. From around the bend, her ears picked up others approaching, so she ducked into a recess. By a stealth inch, the Marine peered around her barrier to learn her enemy's numbers—three dark figures, dressed exactly as Säro described. They were not bumbling but vigilant, their eyes assaulting every shadow, their ears twitching for any life, their mouths tasting the air for fear. CJ began her calculation.
Three Na'vi men. One has an M69, the other, a Hydra. Last one favours a knife. If I take out the Hydra, then I alert the M69. As soon as he fires, I won't have an opening. The one carrying the Hydra has a bad hold—his reaction time will be longer. Take out the M69 first, then shoot the other two.
The three hunters prowled ahead, their drifting eyes going from wall to wall, when a single shot caught them off guard—a brother down. Standing right before them was the prey-turned-hunter.
She aimed again, but the Hydra retaliated by ramming up his barrel, knocking the unfired pistol from her hands. CJ grappled his weapon and pushed him into the other Na'vi. A knife swung over the blockade, flying inches before her evading face. Despite the weight, CJ continued to hold the Hydra weapon as her only defence, but in that stalemate, threw kicks at the serfs' heels. The crazed knife-wielder tried again, but CJ relinquished one hand to seize the oncoming wrist. As the three tangled and staggered, the Hydra fought to work his barrel free while the Marine snapped the attacking wrist; the knife dropped, and she sent her other fist into the windpipe of the now-disarmed Na'vi. Coughing and moaning, the man was temporarily out of commission, during which the Hydra finally regained control of his weapon. He pulled away to get a clear aim at the rekom, but acting fast, CJ grabbed the unguarded Na'vi and spun their bodies around to switch positions.
The Hydra unleashed its volley.
The attacker slowly lowered his weapon in shock upon seeing who it was, falling to the floor. In that window, Casey nabbed the tactical knife and cut the Hydra's face. The bulky weapon was cast with a horrific shriek, and forty pounds of metal struck CJ's leg. The Na'vi faltered backwards, feeling the deep cut in his cheek when he discovered the rekom, reduced to a limp. He charged at her, blood flying off his face, and the two locked in an exchange of throwing and blocking until he gained the upper hand by aiming at her weak legs. She fell to the floor, and the assailant began throttling her. She clenched the fingers and sputtered, holding out for as long as she could when her vitals started to give.
Thwack!
After regaining her vision, the resuscitating woman looked up, and there was the formidable Säro, wielding a baseball bat. The Marine hurried to push off the man and reclaim her knife to finish the job, only to discover it wasn't necessary. Turning her head from the brain-dead Na'vi, CJ looked back at Säro. |"How strong are you?"|
|"Ly'il asked me the same thing."|
From the release of tension, CJ blew out a long breath, then chuckled a few times before accepting the helping hand of her strong rescuer.
Säro immediately hugged her. |"Are you injured?"|
|"I'll be fine."| She placed her pistol in the holster and went to work taking back the stolen uniform. |"We have to move fast. There could be more coming."| As CJ was buckling on the tactical vest, she gained an observation while watching Säro. |"You know, the bad guys are dead. Typically, in movies, you'd drop the weapon at this point."|
She clutched the bat to her chest. |"No! I'm holding onto this!"| She then blinked at her sister. |"What is a movie?"|
|"I'll tell you later,"| CJ replied, donning the last of the gear. |"Right now, we need to get going. Follow me."|
For once, it was quiet in the bare-bones apartment, and the tenant appreciated it. He was sitting before a twenty-inch glass screen—there was a crack down the middle he trained himself to ignore—and that night, after loosening his tie, he was naively anticipating the announcement of Bridgehead's first games stadium; however, rather than happy news to light his dull life, his viewing pleasure was seized by an emergency broadcast.
"Terrorist Attack in Progress! Recombinants Revolt Against City!"
The man, who actually knew Quaritch, was glued to his seat as he eyeballed the unbelievable footage of militarized Na'vi locked in a shoot-out with Bridgehead's special forces. After the captions finished, a disturbing announcement was made. "For your safety," spoke his screen, "your door will remain locked until the threat is neutralized."
"Oh, hell, you won't!" the disgruntled citizen ejaculated. That was the last straw; Parker knew something was rotten in the state of Denmark, and he was going to get to the bottom of it, no matter what; regardless of how he was going to pull it off, his family needed him.
He flew out of his seat and ungracefully made for the door, only to double back for his EXO pack. With fury, he struck the control panel, but it would not release him even after the abuse. Again, he tried; this time, alternating between presses and pounding. Frustrated to the hilt, he treated the control panel to the bottom of his underpaid sole, causing the RDA-branded plastic to launch, destroying the override. The door opened, and Parker stood there blinking, then hesitantly peered down the hall before breaking into a cackle. "Course they'd cheap out on materials."
Parker skedaddled out of the prison complex on his mission to rescue his recoms, or, if it wasn't doable, to at least find one—he knew which one.
Baby's Back raced at top speed across the dirt plains and landed her passengers before the smouldering ruins. The smoke plumes had unnerved the women, but when they saw all of Homestead razed, they were beside themselves with grief.
"Why?" CJ hushed. "Everything… Those bastards destroyed everything…"
Säro was hiding her mouth as her misty eyes shuttered at the ash pile of her kelku. |"What do we do?"| she moaned.
Alerted by the sound of approaching vehicles, CJ's keen sight discerned weaponized military trucks, ready to aim. |"My ikran! Now!"|
The servants of HAF fired at the escaping terrorists, causing a trail of bullets to stain the wall, but the shrieking banshee shied the fire and made it over the top with only a perforated tail.
Speeding over the kill zone, CJ was not spared her banshee's pain, but even while panting, she collected her thoughts. |"Bridgehead…must think we're behind this. We have to…find the others…and warn them not to return. Säro…do you know where to find the Tawkami village?"|
|"Yes! I will show you the way."|