Chapter 17 No Forgiveness
Monday, September 1st, 2030
A news anchor stared grimly into the camera, as he began to read the latest news from the ongoing war.
"Good evening. Tonight, we bring you a devastating update on the global conflict against ORCA. Six days into the war that has already claimed 50 million lives, ORCA has unleashed a catastrophic attack, leaving the cities of Saint Petersburg, Moscow, Tehran, and Karachi in ruins. The world is in shock as ORCA utilized a previously unknown form of radiation to cut a swath of pure death through Central Asia. From the North Sea to the Indian Ocean, there is an impassable wall of ash, through which everything that it touches, dies. In a single night, ORCA has doubled the casualties of this war in an insane act of retribution, following the Russian Federations attempt to overwhelm the Big Box defense grid with their entire strategic missile arsenal."
"The culprit of this attack is none other than The Butcher himself, the Lynx James 'Strayed' Klein. Already held responsible for every war crime ORCA has committed thus far in this conflict, the super soldier was quoted just before the incident saying 'let them burn.'"
"This war started with the belief that we would bring to justice the terrorist state for the devastating attack on Los Angeles, and the many deaths that incurred globally as a result. Now…we can only hope the war ends with our planet still intact."
Big Box
Tentatively inching through the fortress towards her destination, May breathed deeply, thinking of what to say.
She found Tatenashi trying to drink herself into a stupor, at a bar for military personnel to socialize and blow off some steam. The many men and women there making sure to give May a wide berth, not wanting to invoke her wrath, not that she was known for it. Caution was simply the wiser choice when dealing with a Lynx.
"Hey…" May greeted softly to the teen. Wasn't she a bit young to be drinking? Admittedly ORCA still had not implemented certain social laws to deal with that, as they had only recently begun investing in cheap as shit beer, or stolen it in recent days as spoils of war.
"…" Tatenashi frowned, bowing her head, doing her best to avoid the young Lynx.
"You good…?" May questioned.
"…"
"Ah…stupid question." May rubbed her head. "I uh…I'm sorry about your sister."
"…" Tatenashi struggled to keep it together. "Why did he kill her?"
"…Because I begged him to spare your life." May explained sadly. "That is the only reason. You were too big of a threat, and I could only ask for one life to be spared. So he found a solution, as cruel as that may sound."
" I'm…I can't even be mad at him." Tatenashi sneered. "He warned us, repeatedly, that he would kill us all if we tried to fight him. I knew he was faster, better than all of us. I thought that I could…that I could…protect people…stop him even. Heh…isn't that pathetic?"
"It's not wrong to want to fight, to want to save people." May reminded her. "It is, however, hopeless against a Lynx, and foolish against Klein. Unfortunately for you…ORCA command considered you competent and dangerous, as they were uncertain to the full capabilities of your IS. That, and my request to spare your life, forced Klein to pick the next possible option. Psychological warfare, killing your sister, such that you would be too devastated to contribute to the battle."
"I was…I was supposed to protect her." Tatenashi shook her head. "As an older sister, I wasn't supposed to let anything happen to her. And now…now I can't even get revenge or justice. James…he's like some kind of fucked up specter of death."
"Doesn't mean you have to forgive him either." May advised. "I've never forgiven him for killing almost all of my friends, and I've slept with him. Fanchon has never forgiven him for killing her sister, and she is his rival in strength. Don't let your loss fester into despair. Hone it into focus and resolve."
"How…?" Tatenashi frowned. "As it is, I am only human…I could never go toe to toe with a Lynx."
"…" May considered the sad human before her, and wondered. "Perhaps…you could be more…"
The soldiers in the bar cheered as they watched the news. ORCA Flight Bunkers had landed in San Francisco, Portland, and Seattle, placing the full west coast of America under threat of ORCA control.
Command Center
Watching the invasion of America unfold quietly, Klein stood back, relaxed as much as he could be.
Thermidor had stepped out, laying waste to the American military near San Francisco. It was good for him to stretch his legs.
Malzel, meanwhile, was directing this grand scale war against the world, often directing multiple engagements simultaneously. The lives of ORCA's five million strong military at his disposal, slowly subjugating the world with terrifying efficiency.
To their credit, ORCA soldiers, even as human as they were, were nothing to scoff at. Each who had not joined up after the weird dimensional jump was a veteran of the National Disarmament War, stripping them of their national identity. They'd seen their world destroyed in the Lynx War, instilling a deep, fanatical hatred of The League. They'd honed their skills through the Economic War, knowing their place on the battlefield, and they'd seen what even a few could do, against the might of The League. With only thirteen Lynx by their side, they had brought The League and their hundreds of Lynx to their knees, and nearly liberated their ashen world through the ORCA Rebellion.
Now, against the paltry nations of twenty-first century earth, they held no reservations becoming the conquerors, the hated oppressors, if it meant satiating that rage.
As for Klein, he was just happy to be working.
Considering his capabilities and lethality, he had been working exceptionally hard the last few days. Eventually, Thermidor had gotten bored, and switched out with Klein, so that he could conduct several hours' worth of combat sorties. He held the 1st Ranked of Collared and ORCA after all, his skill was nothing to scoff at, outdone only by Fanchon and Strayed.
Speaking of Fanchon…
The Bronze Knight of The League, the only soldier to match him on the battlefield, Wynne D Fanchon. Golden eyes regarded him with the same intensity as he looked upon her with his burning orange eyes. Each thinking, imagining every possible way they could kill each other.
They didn't act on this desire. Thermidor had decreed that while the war was ongoing, they would stop trying to kill each other. Unfortunate, but expected.
"It is…unfortunate." Fanchon considered. "I did not want to fight a war against this primitive and backwards world."
"…I did not hear you argue against this war." Klein considered.
"Though my talents are wasted, I would not deny that this war was inevitable." Fanchon explained. "One or all, someone would have eventually thrown themselves upon our blades, and what kind of guest would we be to leave them sheathed?"
"Strong or weak, it's all the same." Klein dismissed. "Best we can do is be quick about killing them."
"…Why did you take on the sins of ORCA for yourself, Klein?" Fanchon considered, eyeing him with thoughtful interest. "This war was such that none of ours, man or Lynx, would hesitate to wipe out the enemy, guilty or innocent, armed or unarmed. Why disgrace yourself with such a task?"
"Innocent people always die in war, for one bullshit reason or another." Klein reasoned. "There is no honor in these kills, but someone always has to do the killing. Better then it be someone who is both used to the slaughter, and indifferent to it."
"And you think that should be you?" Fanchon questioned.
"…Imagine if Old King had come with us." Klein reasoned. "Imagine how…happy…how sadistically he would sing with every life he took. Imagine how drunk on it he would become, how glutinously he would indulge himself on the innocent and defenseless of this world."
"Yes…I see your point…" Fanchon hissed. It was rare that she would openly and totally agree with him.
"On the other hand…imagine if we had tasked Greenfield with this work." Klein added. "Though she has many thousands of kills under her belt, she is a good soldier, she's not meant to be culling the innocent. Eventually, seeing all that death, all that dishonor pile up, something would break. Be it her spirit or her loyalty or her personality, something would have to give when faced with all that death. No…letting her do this work would be wrong."
"Yet you do not question it." Fanchon pointed out. "Already you've singlehandedly taken more lives with a single action than this world could ever imagine. A thousand generations from now will still curse your name as a monster, a dog of ORCA, a thing taking too many lives. Yet you're fine with that?"
"Yeah." Klein nodded. "I don't know what else to tell you, Fanchon. I've always fought and killed because it had to be done. Whether it be Lynx of Collared, Students of the Academy, unarmed innocents, or your sister. Someone always has to die, and that leaves someone to do the killing. Best it be someone who won't regret it, won't enjoy it, and won't forget it."
"…" Fanchon considered him, long and hard, staring into his eyes. "After this war, I'd like to go all out with you. No holding back, no mercy. One of us has to die, and I'd like to see who it will be. See who is the better Lynx."
Klein smiled honestly. "You have always been the better Lynx, Fanchon. But I might yet surprise you. I look forward to it."
Big Box – Command Center / Wednesday, September 3rd, 2030
Going over the vast amount of data collected from across the battlefields of Earth, Malzel finally saw what he had been eagerly looking for.
"It's time." He announced gleefully. "Our control of the west coast of America has forced them to respond. They have moved their reserves, and left the east coast exposed."
"How exciting." Thermidor smiled. "Along with the Flight Bunkers to New York, Washington, and Norfolk, I will send our best. Wolcott can have Norfolk, Fanchon will take New York, and Strayed will subjugate DC."
"Then it is fortunate that intel reports that their Congress, Senate, and Judicial Branches are holding a joint session." Malzel pointed out. "Knowing how you'll use Strayed, we have an opportunity to collapse the American government in one night."
"Yes. I was hoping for such an opportunity." Thermidor smiled. "Still, a Flight Bunker landing will not be the most subtle of things. How long do you think we'll have to take them by surprise?"
"A matter of minutes." Malzel suggested. "We'll deploy the flight Bunkers as though we intend to land them on the west coast, only to then force them to course correct for the east coast. At that point, the Americans will have four minutes of warning before our Bunkers hit the ground. Time enough to protect their president, but not the rest of their government."
"We'll let Strayed figure out that problem. He's good at hunting lost prey." Thermidor declared. "Send them."
Norfolk, Virgina – United States
Landing in the middle of the Elizabeth River, just south of the Norfolk Southern Lambert's Point Yard, a major trainyard, the imposing monolith of Flight Bunker Three touched down.
As part of the attack on the naval base, ORCA Paratroops had deployed from low orbit, landing on top of the shipyards. Their target was the ships in dock awaiting resupply, including CVN-80, USS Enterprise, and her accompanying strike force. An entire US Navy Strike Force in ORCA hands would bolster their meager blue water navy, and assist with the eventual invasion of Western Europe.
The former princess of the naval corporation BFF, the Lynx Lilium Wolcott would secure the area, wipe out the enemy, and earn a new title and rank, as ORCA's first Grand Admiral.
"Ma'am!" One of the Officers approached her before she deployed. "Paratroopers have secured the US Strike Force at anchor. However, one of the secondary targets, BB-64, USS Wisconsin, was not in her birthing at the Hampton Roads Naval Museum."
"Shame." Wolcott noted. "Even a relic such as that would have made an effective artillery platform and flagship, after a few upgrades. Begin retrofitting our newly captured assets, and send an armored division to secure Newport News. That will allow us to move on Richmond next with a two-pronged assault."
"Yes ma'am!" The Officer saluted.
"I'll be going now, find me targets worth my attention." Wolcott demanded.
New York, New York
Creating a small tsunami as it landed in the middle of the East River, the massive and imposing bulk of Flight Bunker Two overshadowed every skyscraper in Manhattan. Not far from it's home on the other earth, where Big Box was originally built.
Landing less than a kilometer from the United Nations Headquarters, ORCA tanks, Muscle Tracers, and 3rd Gen Armored Cores deployed into the densely populated city, making the UN building their first priority.
"Send one division east up Long Island, I don't want to look over my shoulder." Wynne D Fanchon ordered. "And another west to Philadelphia. That will secure our hold north of DC."
"Yes ma'am!" Her Officers obeyed, deploying the invasion force that would subjugate the very ground where, just months before, ORCA assured the world that they had come in peace.
Washington, DC
The Potomac River was not quite wide enough to accommodate a Flight Bunker where it was needed. So Flight Bunker One landed on top of the Washington Monument, between it's three primary targets: The Pentagon, Capital Hill, and the White House.
It's drive plume melted the structure down to slag and lava, as it deployed it's forces directly into the American capital.
"…" James "Strayed" Klein did not bother giving orders to the ORCA forces under his command. They knew Malzel's plan, and his part in them. While ORCA Paratroopers attempted to capture the Pentagon with as much physical data secure as possible, a separate armored division drove north through DC, towards Baltimore.
As for Klein, he had landed several minutes ahead of the Flight Bunker, and fired his OTOGO 280mm cannon repeatedly into the Capital Building, collapsing it on top of the majority of the American government. Congress, the Senate, and the Supreme Court, all gone with the thunder of artillery, and crushed by rubble.
"…" He met with the mechanized infantry company tasked to take the White House, destroying several hidden weapon emplacements that attempted to protect the building, and tore up the outer fence, making it easier for ORCA Marines to storm the White House, engaging the outnumbered and outgunned Secret Service detail.
The President was, of course, hidden away.
It would have been easy to just move the Flight Bunker over the White House, and burn the President out with the drive plume, but Thermidor had been adamant that what came next was broadcast to the world, with the White House intact.
Utilizing heavy duty ground penetrating radar to find the hidden elevator to the bunker complex protecting the US President, James forced the doors open, then tore out the floor of the elevator. The Secret Service had no doubt cut power to it, so better to just jam it in place and bypass it.
Of course, having expected that, the Presidential Bunker was protected by several layers of armored doors. It would take hours to get through by cutting torch, days for every door in the complex. So ORCA cheated.
ORCA engineers had prepared a "man portable" variant of a 02-Dragonslayer laser blade, with a long power cable providing energy to the six-meter-long plasma sword. Quotation marks because it still weighed over half a ton, meaning no human could actually carry it.
After stepping out of his AC and entering the White House alongside the ORCA Marines, James picked up the laser blade, and affixed it to his right arm. Jumping through the hole he'd made in the elevator, he landed on the first set of armored doors. Aiming the laser blade down, he quickly cut through the armored doors, not caring that he was just inches away from a beam of plasma hotter than the sun. The door burned to slag under him, and he fell through to the next armored door, repeating the process as often as necessary, every few seconds.
Cutting through the elevator doors at the bottom of the shaft, James entered the first security checkpoint to the President's Bunker. It had only taken him two minutes.
The Secret Service had been prepared for a breach, but not after two minutes. Their contingency plans for a full-frontal assault on the White House gave them, at minimum, an hour before this point. That still meant that James was greeted by a hail of gunfire, but it wasn't as organized or heavy as might have otherwise been preferred.
"…" Utilizing the laser blade as a shield to protect his face, James leapt for the unprepared Secret Service agents, and cut them down with a long blade that burned them to ash. A bit an overkill, but very effective for killing everything in a six-meter radius.
Dealing with the rest of the Secret Service in the checkpoint, James found the door. It was a massive, armored slab designed to protect against even a direct hit from nuclear weapons.
James cut it down in ten seconds.
Dropping the laser blade so he could move quickly, James pushed his way through the door protecting one of America's most secure areas. Finding a handful of Secret Service and armed Military advisors, James cut through them, with blade and gun.
That left the American President, unprotected.
"…James 'Strayed' Klein." The President spat, recognizing the soldier, and her fate.
"…"
"You and ORCA may have breached our defenses, and you may stand here victorious, but you'll never break the spirit-"
"…" James grabbed her by the shirt, and head-butted her, breaking her nose. Seeing as that had shut her up for the moment, James grabbed her with his left arm, and walked out, picking up the laser blade on his right arm. Giving a silent signal to the engineers on the ground floor above, they lifted him and the President up the elevator shaft.
Dragged half-conscious to the roof of the White House, James found the ORCA Marines planting the black banner of ORCA, in view of a camera being broadcast to the world.
"…Enjoy your brief victory!" The President shouted. One of the ORCA Marines handed James a rope, tied in a noose. "Because history will remember this as a mere hiccup, a momentary lapse in the unwavering march of freedom!" James slipped the noose over the head of the President, and walked her to the edge of the roof. "The American people don't bow to tyranny! We stand tall, even-"
With a single motion, James disemboweled the President, and pushed her off the roof, while the rest of the world watched. He turned around, and went back to work.
Big Box – Command Center / Thursday, September 4th
"Though heavy fighting continues in the east, we've secured our beachhead. With their political and military leadership wiped out, America has been effectively removed from the war. The only real threat will be units still on course to attack our strongholds on the west coast, though I am willing to abandon all footholds there, save Fort Joshua in the LADZ, where we hold the natural advantage." Malzel reported. "What's more, with their chain of command shattered, we've effectively neutralized their strategic missile arsenal."
"'The unquestioned superpower of the free world.' And we took them in ten days." Thermidor smiled widely. "Everything from here is downhill. How do you want to go about this, Malzel?"
"A bit slower, now that we can afford to take our time." Malzel then explained. "We have to maintain our base in the Los Angeles Dead Zone in order to keep pressure on the Americans. Meanwhile, the base at Norfolk will allow us to build up our Atlantic fleet with the shipyards there and at Newport News. Wolcott reports that our forces there are already installing upgrades that will allow us to literally start printing ships out a week at a time. Since that permanently ties up one of our Flight Bunkers to protecting an asset on the other side of the planet, our other two Flight Bunkers will have to pick up the slack. We'll finish up our conquest of North America, then work our way on to South America, allowing us complete control of the Pacific theater. From there, we will finish off India, and all that will leave will be the Middle East, Africa, and Europe. Additionally, your decimating of Central Asia with Kojima weapons means that no reinforcements can come over land."
"So at most, you believe the war could last another month?" Thermidor surmised.
"At most." Malzel nodded. "It's far more likely to last only two to three weeks. Although, the enemy might yet surprise us, and delay our plans a few days at most."
1500 Kilometers South of Big Box / Saturday, September 6th
Insane luck was the only way to describe the situation of the last, hastily made United Nations Combined Fleet in the Pacific.
Their story began shortly after Big Box had appeared in their world, when ORCA began offering cheap, high tech military hardware to the highest bidder. Some mad, raving United States Admiral had somehow gotten approval to upgrade their old Iowa Class Battleships with ORCA built 500mm naval railguns.
The supposed (but everyone definitely knew they'd done it) ORCA terrorist attack on Los Angeles had accelerated the plans to upgrade and move the three remaining ships, seeing as USS Iowa herself was little more than a fifty-thousand-ton tower of slag somewhere where Carson used to be.
So, they used floating dry docks to continue work on the overhaul even as the mainland was occupied and subjugated. Even when Washington went dark, The Admiral pushed on, and gathered nearly fifty stray naval ships from across the Pacific, sailors with no nation left to call home, driven by revenge and hate.
Their three battleships, USS New Jersey, USS Missouri, and USS Wisconsin, had finished their overhaul, with each being armed with six 500mm railgun cannons, powered by miniature ORCA built fusion drives.
This fleet was not alone, however. It had taken a great deal of time and effort, but several dozen Third Generation Armored Cores, who's pilots had kept on fighting long after their nations had fallen, were able to reconvene, and were currently making their way towards Big Box in civilian owned container ships, as part of a counter-attack. Though technically a war crime, it was in no way to the level that ORCA had committed, and seemed to be their only way of counter attacking in this most desperate hour.
They didn't really expect to do much, but sitting idle while the war dragged on and their homelands were occupied seemed wrong. Just something to remind ORCA that they were not dead yet, and that they could hit back when it was least expected.
"Sir! The Assault Force reports that they are inside the Big Box defense grid!" An Officer reported.
"Excellent!" The Admiral nodded from his post onboard the Missouri. "Have them hold while we begin bombardment of their fortress. With any luck, we'll draw out one or more Lynx and clear the way for them. Ready the railguns! Your target is the Big Box megafortress! Even if all we do is scratch their paint, they'll have to send a significant force to deal with us! And if that happens, we'll be sure to drag them to hell with us!"
"We're ready to fire, Admiral." The Captain of the Missouri reported.
"New Jersy and Wisconsin report rail cannons ready to fire, on your command." A radio officer reported.
"Fire at will!" The Admiral demanded.
With a thwack of electromagnetic thunder, the last assault on Big Box began.
Big Box – Command Center
"What the hell was that?" Thermidor demanded, mildly surprised to hear something hit Big Box's roof.
"Sir! It appears ship mounted railgun artillery is being directed our way from 1,500 kilometers south." An Officer calmly answered.
"…Really?" Thermidor seemed amused. He looked over the deployment for Lynx to see who was still in the fortress at this time. "Suspend normal aircraft operation for the duration of the bombardment. Fanchon just got off mission, so send Strayed to deal with the artillery."
"At once sir!" Another Officer nodded confident.
Big Box – NEXT Hangar
"It appears the enemy has retrofitted century old battleships with our railgun technology and are using them to assault the fortress from well over the horizon." Fiona reported calmly. "While we could use the main guns, their accuracy and rate of fire leaves something to be desired. Therefore, you will go and eliminate the enemy remnant fleet with due haste."
"…How are you doing, Mom?" James questioned the slightly older woman with quiet intrigue.
"Your and Haze's little project has me at my wits end." Fiona sneered with uncharacteristic annoyance. "Did you know I would have to learn an entire new field of science just to make that damn IS Core work in an AC?"
"So you're saying it can't be done?" James wondered.
"It's almost complete." Fiona retorted. "We have most of it's features completed, and simulations show that it will be far better than a standard IS, with performance characteristics on par with a Next. Still, there's no one in ORCA who can even use the thing, as the jailbroken IS Core refuses to acknowledge anyone in our command, what with our being from a different universe and all. And no matter how much quantum bullshit I learn, there's no overcoming that facet of our disposition. What were you even thinking ordering the construction of that thing?"
"I just have a good feeling is all." James smiled. "Now, about those battleships…"
"There appears to be three battleships, and a small support fleet. You know what to do." Fiona nodded confidently.
Hijacked Civilian Super Freighter – Near Big Box / 35 Minutes Later
Having waited for Strayed to launch from Big Box and be nearly on top of the battleship fleet, one of the last Assault Forces in the Western Hemisphere started preparations for their suicide run on Big Box.
Comprised of Third Generation Armored Core squads who had been in fighting condition after their nations fell, they were a force of over a dozen nations from across the Pacific, and they looked forward to finally laying siege to the megafortress.
"Be advised, Strayed is nearly on top of the fleet! Once we launch, there'll be no turning back! Either we fall, or ORCA does!"
"Yeah!" The multinational force of fifty Third Gen ACs cheered, as they broke cover and used their thrusters to ascend to the roof of Big Box.
Big Box – Command Center
"Sir! Fifty Third Gen ACs just took off from a civilian freighter, and are ascending to the roof. Orders, sir?"
"Hmm." Thermidor blinked in surprise. "Malzel, would you care to dance with me?"
"Ha!" Malzel laughed. "I thought you'd never ask! Let's give them a good show."
Big Box – Research and Development Lab
It was a vexing problem. Fiona poured over the vast amount of data the seemingly innocuous little spheres seemed capable of containing. Even so, there was a limit to how much data could be gathered just by observing. The only way around the problem would be to find out what was inside one.
Fortunately, ORCA was currently in a position that they could afford to lose an IS Core or two. It wasn't a technology they understood, and with the three cores currently in their position, losing one to experimentation would not be a great loss.
At least, that had been the plan. As Fiona arrived where Houki's and Tatenashi's IS Suits were being held…she caught sight of Tabane Shinonono, casually stealing the IS Suits, folding them back into her pocket dimensions.
"Huh…? Oh! Oh don't mind me! Just picking up my stuff! I'll be out in a jiffy!" Tabane squeaked.
"…" Fiona noticed that the two guards who were supposed to be watching the IS suits were dead. Quick, clean kills, if their lack of wounds was anything to go by. Still, she approached the closest man, and checked for a pulse. Finding none, she sighed angrily. She sent out a silent alarm using her implants, letting the rest of ORCA know that something was up.
"Oh, you're that one ORCA lady, James's mom." Tabane noted eagerly. "I bet he'd get a kick-"
Fiona wasn't stupid. She wasn't going to wait around and find out what the mad scientist wanted. She got up and ran back the way she came.
Except that Tabane was already in the next room, having teleported her way in front of her.
"Hey! It's no fun if you won't play with me!" Tabane pouted sadly.
"…" Fiona glared, and tried to get past Tabane. But the deceptively powerful woman pushed her against the wall, and stunned her.
"Hey, so listen." Tabane explained sweetly. "I really don't like getting my hands dirty, but James is a big jerk and I'd really like to bring him down a peg before our big fight, so…no hard feelings, but I am going to have to kill you! Ah I'll be quick about it, I'm going to be so busy busy busy! So…stay still just a moment…"
Tabane lined up a punch, that Fiona wouldn't be able to dodge.
Her fist slammed into Wynne D Fanchon's palm, blocking it. What concerned Fiona, was that Fanchon was pushed back more than a foot, nearly crushing her.
"Fanchon?" Fiona asked surprised and worried.
"Go." Fanchon spat calmly. "I might need some help with this one. You're in my way."
"Thank you." Fiona squeezed Fanchon's shoulder, and used the opportunity to escape the hallway.
"Oh…you're one of ORCA's elite." Tabane realized. "Wendy? Was it?"
"Wynne D Fanchon." Fanchon said once. "Bad choice, picking on Fiona."
"Yeah, but I'm trying to get James all upset like. You know, crying, screaming, 'you killed my mom waaa!' kind of attitude before I kill him, so he doesn't look so cool and calm when I put him down."
"Yeah…you really don't know anything about Klein, do you?" Fanchon shook her head. "But I'll say this. James and I…have something special going on." It burned her to say that, but she needed to redirect Tabane's attention from Fiona to herself.
"Oh…oh! So are you two dating?!" Tabane giggled.
"…Something like that." Fanchon lied, but smiled. As much as she might hate him, their relationship, their rivalry, was intense and brutal. The thought of killing him, or of him killing her, was enticing and thrilling. A worthy foe, an honorable kill. He was more than the bastard who killed her sister. He was an object of her deepest desire, to prove herself against a powerful and overwhelming enemy.
She knew James felt the same about her.
"Oh! Okay! That works too!" Tabane cheered, dancing back as she regarded Fanchon as her new foe.
1500 Kilometers South of Big Box
The hyper velocity shells were still being flung over the horizon as Strayed encountered the enemy fleet. Three battleships, a handful of destroyers and frigates, and several support vessels.
Easy pickings.
"Target sighted! It's Strayed!"
"All ships! Fire at will!"
"…" Strayed easily dodged their fire, and accelerated into their formation, using laser blades to carve up their hulls, and destroy the lighter ships with a single swipe. The 07-Moonlight laser blades being powerful enough the cut these ships in half, from end to end.
"Taking heavy losses! We aren't doing any damage!"
"Damn ORCA! Our lives will not be spent in vain!"
"…" Strayed approached one of the support ships, and noticed their deaths coming a second before it expected to be there. Disengaging, the support ship exploded as several thousand tons of ammo were detonated, in a vain attempt to try and kill it. Seems ORCA wasn't the only one to resort to suicide tactics.
"Just die already you monster!"
"…" Working quickly, Strayed finished off the escorts, then focused on the battleships.
"All battleships, focus fire! We have the weapons, we can take him!"
"…" While their arsenal was vast, it was nothing like what Strayed had faced before. A single Arms Fort would have more firepower, with better fire control to boot. Even with every rail cannon and secondary five-inch gun filling the sky with shells, Strayed dodged and weaved through the fire, and sunk one blade to the hilt into the side of the New Jersey, and boosted down the length of the ship, tearing deep into it and leaving a long, molten scar along it's flank. Though injured, it was far from dead, and Strayed had to repeat the motion, in order to secure the kill.
"New Jersey is down! I repeat! New Jersey is lost!"
"Fight on! We have to buy as much time as we can!"
"…" Strayed didn't want to drag out their deaths longer than they needed to last. The enemy knew they would die, best to be quick about it. Looking over the two remaining battleships…six railguns a piece, on ninety year old hulls. Updated in the 1980's to burn military spec diesel, they wouldn't have the power output to run all their new guns. Somewhere on these ships was a miniaturized fusion reactor. And if the Catalina incident had proven anything, it was that League fusion drives could be bombs if mishandled or damaged.
Scanning over both ships, Strayed found the thermal anomaly, a part of the ship putting out far more heat than their design would indicate. Thrusting through this part of the ship with their blade, Strayed burned through meters of armor and hull, and pierced the fusion drive. It went off with nearly a kiloton of force, and broke the ship's back.
"Wisconsin sunk! With just one blow!"
"…" Strayed lined up on the last battleship, and thrust forward.
"Damn you ORCA!"
"…" It's reactor pierced, the Missouri went critical, and separated into two pieces that started to sink. Strayed backed off, and-
That…wasn't right. This feeling. This death. Strayed turned around, and rushed back to Big Box at Mach two.
Big Box – Roof
"I certainly hope we didn't keep you kind folks waiting."
"We would be poor hosts to not welcome you with open arms, dear warriors."
Admittedly, no one had been entirely sure about the deployment patterns of ORCA Lynx. Though, given the number of combat sorties they routinely went on, surely, they all would have been deployed, right?
The allied nation Assault Force had not been prepared to fight even one, let alone two Armored Core NEXT.
A dark grey heavyweight, comprised of GAN01 and GAN02 parts with a Hogire Core, making it look like a high-speed tank with five eyes. The NEXT "Opening", operated by Malzel.
An all black, lightweight 04-Alicia AC on reverse-jointed legs, making it look like a high-tech dogfighter. "Unsung", piloted by Maximilian Thermidor.
"It's a pleasure to meet so many fine warriors so late in the war, and so driven to meet their foe. We'll be sure to remember you all, and to grant you honorable deaths." Thermidor promised.
While Malzel stayed back to offer heavy fire support with his rifles and 290mm artillery cannon, Thermidor charged, right inside their formation. Using his bladed assault-rifle to cut down foes at point blank range, he made sure each kill was done quickly and cleanly.
These pilots were not amateurs, their being here was proof enough of that. The problem was that they had mostly survived by evading NEXT in urban combat, and then by being unable to coordinate with larger, more enticing formations as their command was cut off.
Against ORCA Ranked, masters of warfare, rank and file AC pilots stood no chance, and were cut to ribbons.
Big Box – Interior
Things could be going better. They could be going a lot better.
Despite ORCA knowing that Tabane Shinonono had the genome of a Lynx, her use of quantum technology more than made up for her lack of augmentations.
She was faster and hit harder than what was considered possible for their kind. Blood burst from Fanchon's mouth as Tabane squarely landed a hit to her stomach. Fanchon tried to retaliate, to punch Tabane back while she was still close enough.
Except that Tabane teleported back, out of her range, wasting Fanchon's efforts. What annoyed Fanchon the most wasn't how fast Tabane was or how hard she could hit. It was that wide, cocky and coy smile Tabane bared. Her meek and mocking voice that whined with each hit she landed, taking a bit more of Fanchon's life with it.
So, she was going to die today? To this bitch?
So be it.
Still, Fanchon wasn't going to let this insult slide without drawing blood. Taking a page from Klein's book, she feigned injury and inability, her hands clutching at her chest as she leaned against a wall, closing her eyes and forcing herself to choke on her own blood, wheezing loudly.
"Aww, giving up so soon?" Tabane sweetly mocked, dancing a little closer to Fanchon. "I guess you are all not built the same! I certainly hope James won't be this easy. Then again…maybe I do. You really are a pathetic lot. 'Super-soldiers' of The League? What gives? This was hardly a challenge. Oh well."
Tabane closed in, and cupped Fanchon's face sweetly and cruelly. "I guess I'll be a nice girl and finish-"
Having calculated Tabane's reaction speed, Fanchon knew she wouldn't be able to go for the kill. She'd have to settle for much less. Turning and lunging as quickly as she could, Fanchon bit down hard into what soft flesh she could find.
"OWW!" Tabane screamed, teleporting back to safety. "Y-You! You bit me!" She stared down at her right hand, her thumb and two fingers missing, and the imprint of Fanchon's teeth left deep in her flesh.
Fanchon smiled wide, spitting Tabane's fingers from her mouth. "Taste like shit. But I'm still hungry."
Tabane bared her teeth hatefully, and snapped her fingers on her left hand. In a flash, her missing fingers were back on her right hand, as if she'd never been injured. Faster than Fanchon could see, Tabane got in under her guard, and punched her in the chest.
"…!" Fanchon lurched painfully, as a clean hole had been bored through her body, right where her left heart was.
"Huh!? It's not so funny now that you're missing parts, is it?!" Tabane shouted back. "Tell me, Wendy, do you fear-"
Fanchon snorted loudly, and spat a combination of snot, spit, and blood on Tabane's face. "You look better in red."
Tabane seethed, hatefully and wrathful, as she wiped her face clean. "What is wrong with you!? You call yourself a woman?! You are nothing but violence and sickness!"
Fanchon laughed. "Hey, that's one of the best compliments I've gotten all day." She smiled widely.
"Don't you understand that you're about to die here?! Don't you want to live?!" Tabane reasoned with the Lynx, trying to understand her.
"Death was my only certainty the moment I became a Lynx. I'll never beg for my life." Fanchon sneered. "So come over here. I'm still hungry."
Tabane sneered, her face twisted in an ugly expression, as she teleported in, and punched Fanchon in the side of the head.
Fanchon could feel herself dying. Tabane was too fast, and too powerful. It was coming, and soon. Still, she wouldn't give Tabane the satisfaction. Even with her right eye hanging out of her socket, she stood back up, confronting Tabane.
"Oh, look at that! Takin' it like a champ!" Tabane noted excitedly.
"…Suck…my nuts." Fanchon hissed with a smile.
Tabane teleported again, and wailed on Fanchon, beating her head in. Even League forged hyperalloy struggled to hold it's form with how much force Tabane could apply, changing quantum constants of reality so that she hit with the force of a train through her fists.
Something broke, and Fanchon lost part of herself. Her vision was already impaired, and structural integrity warnings screamed in her ears as part of her head caved in. Even with all this damage, she wouldn't back down.
"Buddy are you still there?" Tabane asked sweetly. "I just don't know! It seems like you're trying to speak! But you just took a hell of a hit! I just popped your skull so hard, your brains are hanging out! And it is gross as shit!"
"…" Fanchon sneered, feeling that, yes, part of her brain had exited her skull, hanging uselessly out of it. That certainly wasn't good. Even so, she smiled, and stared up at Tabane defiantly, and hissed out a promise.
"He'll…tear you apart." Fanchon laughed.
Tabane couldn't stand it. This barely human thing, this creature of violence in the shape of a woman, was laughing at her, as she stood victorious? It didn't make sense. It drove her crazy. This wasn't right. She was the hero, the perfect, beautiful savior of this world. How dare this thing laugh at her!
"Stop laughing!" Tabane screamed, punching Fanchon again, and again, breaking her augmented bones, tearing through high-tensile flesh, spilling more thick, oily blood across herself and this hallway.
But Fanchon kept laughing. She laughed and laughed even when she was gone, devoting her last bit of energy and cybernetics to two tasks: to laugh, and to write a message.
"Stop laughing at me! Stop laughing at me! Stop laughing at me! Stop laughing at me! Stop laughing at me! Stop laughing at me! STOP LAUGHING AT ME!" Tabane screamed as she tore Fanchon apart, breaking the augmented woman's skull and spilling her brain. Her laughter died out with electric gurgles and glitches, but she kept smiling, even while dead.
Tabane was breathless, seething tiredly over Fanchon's broken corpse. That had taken more effort than she could have imagined, and was far more deranged than it should have been.
There was no fear in Fanchon when she died, only a driving desire to take something, anything from Tabane, and make her work for the kill. Even though the physical effort had been negligible, the psychological damage from encountering the Lynx had been staggering.
Still…she had won. Tabane was still the perfect, beautiful savior, the hero of this world. That's what she told herself, as she teleported away, to plan her next move.
Thermidor and Malzel had gotten there first. Considering the unprecedented nature of the event, they recalled all Lynx, save Wolcott, as she was still defending their furthest asset across the planet.
James marched calmly down the corridor, and considered those waiting just short of the last turn.
"So it was Tabane Shinonono?" Wolcott was attending via a hologram, a small drone projecting her image into the room.
"Yeah, she came after me." Fiona reported. "Fanchon intercepted her, then asked for support."
"Mmm, we would have come sooner, but we were dealing with interlopers on the roof." Thermidor frowned.
"This is…unprecedented. We considered Tabane a threat, but this action, directly in the center of our territory…this will require serious replanning." Malzel shook his head.
"I've looked over her corpse…" Haze announced. "And while we, in theory, could 'fix' her, her mind is too damaged, too far gone. All we'd get is a Fanchon shaped drone. She's dead."
"…" May quietly fumed, standing tall as she stood at attention. On some level, she had expected either James or Fanchon to die, likely as a result of each other. But not yet, and not like this. She noticed James, calmly striding past them, his face etched with imperceivable emotion. "James…?"
"…" James ignored them, and kept walking. He found Fanchon's corpse, and knelt by it's side.
Of course he'd wanted her dead. But not like this. Ever since he'd met her at the Kitasaki Junction, he'd known she was something special. He'd known she was a worthy and dangerous foe, worth every ounce of his effort.
Their fight would have been legendary. He could imagine it, each of them pushing their ACs to the breaking point. Every engagement with her proved as much. She had overwhelming skill, such that she could have easily matched and overwhelmed him. Or maybe he'd seize an opportunity, and come out on top.
As such, this insult would not stand. Tabane didn't know it, but she was now marked for death.
James reached out and caressed Fanchon's face. He would have liked to have stared into her eyes one last time, and feel her hands wrapped around his neck, as they choked the life out of each other. That would have been fun.
He grabbed her by the head, and reached into her brain, pulling her cybernetic augments out of her skull. With the machine part of Fanchon's mind in hand, he returned to his modest and baren room, and plugged the component into a computer.
He was going to comb through her memories, to try and piece together the last few moments of her life that she faced Tabane Shinonono, to ascertain some weakness.
He didn't expect the message.
"James you sick fucked up bastard." Fanchon cursed him out. "You tore my augments out of my skull, didn't you?"
"…" James regarded this ghost in the machine, this call from the dead.
"Well…with the way this fight is going…I don't blame you." Fanchon's ghost sighed. "I'm sorry I won't be able to keep my promise to you, to be able to meet you in battle one last time, with the intent to take your life. I'd have probably won anyway…but you have a way of surprising me. That would have been…a good fight."
"…"
"So, I'm not leaving this message to mope or shit, and my only regret is not being able to kill you. Here's what you're looking for anyway." Fanchon's ghost pulled up a sorted set of data files. "Here's my combat analysis of that bitch Tabane Shinonono, how she moves and fights. And some of her weaknesses. A word of advice, she's fast, and much stronger than she looks. Unfortunately, by the time I figured out how to kill her...well…I was already missing half my brain. Eh. Shit happens."
"…"
"Do me a favor, James 'Strayed' Klein." Fanchon requested kindly. "Tear that bitch apart for me. Make her suffer. I promised her you would."
"…"
"Oh and before I forget, May gets my shit! So don't go pilfering through it you depraved motherfucker!" Fanchon yelled at him. "Anyhow, I don't have long now. I'll be watching you from hell, so don't let me down, or I'll kill you myself, you hear? Heh." Fanchon laughed. "And try laughing, that seems to really set her off. This is Wynne D Fanchon! Signing off!"
"…" James sighed, and smiled. "Till next time, Wynne D."
He went to work downloading Fanchon's combat analysis directly into his own head, watching her last moments from behind her eyes.
"…Hey."
"…" James fumed, and refused to look at the voice. "Now's not the time-"
"I know where Tabane Shinonono is."
James turned around and regarded the ghost of Fanchon's sister, Not Judith. "Explain. Now."
"I managed to get into an IS Core, and extended my search range considerably." Not Judith explained. "So I was able to find where she's hiding."
"Where?"
"In the South Pacific, on an artificial island." Not Judith then added. "But you'll never find it. Quantum bullshit observation thing. If you look for it, you won't see it."
"So how do I get there?"
"Blind. Sensors offline." Not Judith explained. "I can get you on the island, and you can do the rest. Deal?"
"And what do you get?"
"Huh…" Not Judith paused. "Hadn't thought about it, to be honest. Suppose I'll figure it out when we get there."
Big Box – Meeting Room
Having properly moved their meeting regarding Fanchon's unexpected death, ORCA Command discussed the situation somberly.
"Where are we at locating Tabane Shinonono?" Thermidor demanded. "Certainly someone or some sensor has been able to find even the faintest trace of her?"
"We are no closer to finding her than before." Wolcott reported remotely. "Her ability to hide is remarkable, and we simply do not possess the technology to find her."
"Hmm." Thermidor sighed. "Malzel, how far back does this set the war?"
"The loss of a Lynx is our most serious setback to date." Malzel reported. "Subjugating the planet will now take a month at least, not to mention the blow to our moral. We've managed to keep the rest of the world from learning of Fanchon's death, but news travels fast in ORCA. I recommend we back off on offensive operations outside of the Pacific theater until we've completed subjugation of North America. In all likelihood, we'll extend the war another month to be more cautious."
"That seems reasonable." Fiona agreed.
"…Very well. Besides, as of now, our priorities have changed. Given the opportunity, we will devote every possible resource to killing Tabane Shinonono." Thermidor declared.
Then Klein entered the room, fashionably late. He didn't sit down.
"Klein. How nice of you to join us." Thermidor narrowed his eyes. "What data were you able to pull from Fanchon's augments."
"I know where Tabane Shinonono is."
"…" That had pretty much gotten everyone's complete attention.
"Well, don't keep us waiting! Where is she!?" Greenfield demanded.
"I cannot say."
"…Well aren't you just fucking useless!" Haze cursed,
"…The location cannot be accessed though traditional means. I have intel it is protected by a quantum anomaly that prevents observation and interaction." Klein explained.
"Okay, so how do we get there without knowing where it is?" Thermidor wondered.
"I go alone, sensors offline, and bump into it." Klein put it simply.
"Hey, didn't we just say that going against Tabane is now the total focus of ORCA now? No way we let you go alone!" Fiona argued.
"It was Fanchon's wish that I personally kill Tabane for her. I intend to do it myself." Klein declared.
"…Can you tell us what is your source for this intel? So that we can at least verify it's validity?" Malzel requested.
"…" Klein's inability to make up convincing lies was suddenly a hinderance. He knew Tabane had to die, and he knew where she was. But the source was…incomprehensible. He needed help. "Greenfield, a word please?"
"Huh?" Greenfield flinched in surprise. "Oh…okay?"
She followed him to just outside the meeting room. "Hey…sorry about Fanchon. I know you valued your rivalry with her."
"She will be missed." Klein agreed. "Also, she left you her stuff."
"Ah…" Greenfield nodded. "Okay. Now, tell me about your source."
"It's ah…it's complicated." Klein frowned.
"James…" Greenfield hissed. "I know you want to get vengeance for Fanchon, so this is no time to be a cryptic motherfucker. If you have actionable intel, then please just tell me, and I'll back your call."
"…Judith told me."
"…" Greenfield stared at him with her mouth hanging open.
"I can't explain a damn thing. But I trust the source, and you know I'll finish the job."
"…" Greenfield glared, but nodded. "Fine, but you're telling me everything afterwards."
"Thank you…May."
Greenfield returned to the meeting room with Klein close behind, and addressed the rest of ORCA command. "Klein has reliable, actionable intelligence regarding the location of Tabane Shinonono. I recommend sending him alone on a search and destroy mission. Let him do his thing."
"…I support this action." Fiona reluctantly nodded.
"…Very well. I agree." Haze supported.
That left the three remaining leaders, the current and remaining military commanders of ORCA.
"If you trust your intel, then you have my support." Wolcott spoke. "Fanchon was one of us, this insult will not stand."
"…Taking out Tabane would change the dynamics of this war." Malzel spoke up. "The death of the creator of the IS would certainly devastate this world's moral. Also, it would boost the moral of our troops immensely. Thermidor, I leave the decision with you. Which do you feel, fear of Shinonono, or your trust that Strayed will do their best, doing their worst?"
Phrased like that, Thermidor was left with no choice. "James 'Strayed' Klein. Get your justice. Make it pretty."
"At once." Klein nodded.
Author's Note: I'm down to writing the last chapter of this story. I'm ending it with 21. It's been a damn long year that I've been writing about Infinite Stratos. Damn you guest reader and your enticing but dark request.
Uh...this chapter. I mean I was pretty happy with it. I felt that it's fair that Tabane is a greater threat in hand to hand, what with all her abilities. She's basically a god damn SCP. Plus now I have one less character to write about. Someone go count for me how many named characters are written off, lol.
Citations! Uh, pretty much the scene of Fanchon getting killed by Tabane is directly inspired by and has some of the quotes from when Negan is introduced in The Walking Dead and kills a title character or two. I have the strangest inspirations.
Okay! So my plan is to finish chapter 21 within the next two weeks, post chapter 18, start working on chapter 14 of UDL, maybe post chapter 10 of it just cause it's a damn long chapter, and then post the last three chapters of this story each week. Yeah, I'm excited to be done with this project, but not just yet.
Anyhow, let me know what y'all think, and see you for the next one! Oh, also Happy New Year!
To snipervtk4: What's with you and my father wanting for egregious sexual violence to befall Tabane? Like yeah I hate her too, that's why I wrote her like this, but like...y'all need Jesus or something!
As far as SEA, I imagine none of you would have been happy with the tsunami that pretty much everyone blamed ORCA for causing, so you would have thrown in your hat with the rest of the world anyway. As well, ORCA would just come down for a search and destroy mission, destroy your military and government, then fuck off to do the same thing to your neighbor. I imagine ORCA's goal at this point is to just instill fear by proving their military dominance though their use of Armored Cores and NEXT. Other than that stunk in Central Asia with the Kojima nukes, they mostly want to avoid civilians. In hindsight, James nuking Russia/Iran/Pakistan is sort of a character break of ORCA as well as flexing James as the villain he is supposed to be.
To memoryofvirtual: That could be a fair assessment. At this point it's just shock value of "what will ORCA and James do next?" as they conquer shit and kill people. Hope you feel better though! I was viscously sick last month with like 4 separate illnesses one after the other, and I still have a light cough.
To WarmasterXI: Rewriting chapter 16 so that James could personally and intimately kill Ichika was definitely the right call on my part. And yeah, just based on it's feats, The White Knight IS is at least as fast as an AC NEXT, so Tabane is not totaly outclassed. As far as Phantom Task...ah...I kinda forgot about them for a bit, but don't worry, they return next chapter.
To Guest (On chapter 15): The short answer is yes...kinda. The long answer is the ORCA stratagem is to use conventional forces and old gen ACs to feign their attempts to fight a conventional war, and lure the enemy into proper maneuvers and strategies, only to then throw a NEXT at them, in order to eliminate vast enemy formations in short order. The true answer is I'm in a rush and you won't see any of that unfortunately. If not for AC6 and UDL, you probably would have seen something like this.
To naufalrakha0104: Oof. I'm assuming you are referring to one of James's scenes, in which case, that's fair. James's draft version in 2015 was pretty cringe/edgelord-y, and it took a lot of effort to rewrite him to be less cringe. He's usually at his best anyhow when he doesn't say a damn thing, but sometimes he does have to communicate, and I am, at most, an amateur writer half-assing a shitpost where Strayed and ORCA slaughter the cast of IS for some reason. This is not a good example of my best work, I will admit, and it definitely shows. Again.
To Gwynx: Lol. Yep. Thanks!
To Just a reader now a writer: Yep! That's pretty much my interpretation of him, even canonically. He just stumbles from one weird situation to another, and sometimes he yells a lot and swings a sword when he's feeling particularly silly. I said it already, but i sort of forgot about PT, but they will return next chapter.
To Napster153: Oh yeah, I definitely enjoyed that interaction between Ichika and James just a little too much. This story isn't my best, but I do have to give it some effort otherwise it would be unreadable and inconsistent, then no one would have any fun. And, yeah, irony was a really big theme in this story, hence it's name.
To Arteria Carpals (on chapter 15): I do actually believe that Tabane considers herself some kind of goddess of reality, to throw characters at each other using her toys. Except while she has fun, playing the background puppet master, kids are getting hurt and injured and traumatized because of her games, and that's still canonical.
To Code002Senpai: Yeah...I'm just a little bit out of my mind.
To Xs0nicblAdeX: ...No. That bitch is dead. Unlike my last story, I'm not going to bend over backwards to bring a character back, even if I do like them. If they die, well, shit happens. As seen above.
To Stephen6089: Ahahaha Ah um so I may have actually used the "Kings" mission and it's full on dialog at a point in my previous story. I feel like it was both the best and worst thing I have ever written.
To Nine: Yeah what a way to go out! Damn, he forgot to take his plot armor pills.
To Iguazu: Maybe...but even if the answer is yes, I am not going to throw a newly made Lynx into combat against a self-proclaimed god. And while making a new Lynx would be easier, there is still the problem of making a new NEXT.
To Guest DCDGojira: I should have mentioned that last chapter, but that would have been too easy at that point. And PT will return...next chapter.
To Migg: I'm glad I managed to make Tabane a hateable character. That was one of my main goals going into this. I can only promise that this story will end, and relatively soon.
To EmperorCeph: Yeah, he had to go, no way his ego would allow him and James to occupy the same story anymore. I will at least promise that The White Knight is fast enough to keep up with a NEXT, that much seemed obvious to me when I started this project. Tabane has plenty of tricks up her sleeve to keep from being killed off quickly.
To Arenjie (on chapter 3): Yeah, these are not the canonical versions of AC4A characters, I've sort of twisted them into my own thing. Admittedly I had to when everyone's favorite girl, May, only has 6 voice lines. I need a bit more than that to have a character, so I built her into a fun loving but sometimes promiscuous sometimes violent green ball of joy.