My Take on the Guardian Story

by Me010

A (in my opinion) fresh take on the "guardian of the hunt" story. Give it a read if you feel like it. Hopefully it interests you

45. Chapter 45 - On the Way Back to Earth

Chapter 45 - On the Journey Back to Earth

Working with the Dead Men was an interesting experience for Percy. For one thing, they got a lot more leeway, than any other unit he had ever seen before. Regular Spec Ops Operators were given a lot of free reign for their Operations than the typical Army. Then Percy, with his status as a 'celebrity' within Spec Ops, was given a lot more freedom than even other Operators. But the Dead Men? Whatever they said, went. There were astoundingly few commanders in the entire Army, who felt they were able to give orders to the Dead Men, and half of them were wrong. The general rule of thumb was that unless an order came from Chaos herself, then it could be viewed as a suggestion, and nothing more.

As Percy, Pricela, and Moril's little team was working with them, they were afforded the same respect. The Dead Men were seen as a very closed off unit, so the fact that they were working together, said a lot. The three Operators were treated as if they were members of the unit themselves.

On a more personal level, Percy had some seriously mixed feelings about the temporary partnership. On the one hand, it was fun to be working with Sara again. Having Sara, Pricela, and Moril all on the same team, was like something out of a dream, and he was having the time of his life with it. But on the other hand, Percy was not used to taking orders. Because they were two different teams, the general view was that Percy retained command of Pricela and Moril, while Plean was the leader of the rest of the Dead Men. As such, if Percy was strongly against an order Plean wanted to give to Pricela or Moril, then Percy had the right to counter it.

But effectively, Percy was under Plean's command. He wasn't technically. But Plean was used to the people with him, being his to give orders to. If Plean gave Percy a command in the middle of the battle, then Percy basically had to obey, even if he disagreed. Voicing his concerns in the moment, would lead to an argument, which they had no time for during a firefight. If he just did his own thing, then they'd all be on a different page. Basically, Percy was trapped between a rock and a hard place.

And then there was the interpersonal aspect of the team. Nami, the Operator who had pursued Percy directly, and who he had almost drowned, seemed unable to move past that unfortunate little aspect of their shared history. She took every opportunity she could, to make him miserable. She almost reminded Percy of Phoebe, back on Earth, except for the fact that he knew exactly why Nami hated his guts.

And Iolk, who seemed to have a thing for Nami, took her lead in hating him. It made for an uncomfortable dynamic, but they were all adults, in theory. When it came down to it, they'd work together.

The hunt for the bastards responsible for Delta Team's demise, took a little over a month. A solid month of multiple raids per day. Percy was less than even he was used to, but he wasn't willing to be the one sitting on the sidelines because he needed a nap. He would be the one leading the charge, until he was physically incapable of it.

And he had been rendered physically incapable a couple of times. During one particularly bloody raid, he'd been shot in the neck. If not for Moril and Pricela's timely intervention, he would have bled out long before he got to any infirmary.

It wasn't as though they could have shadow traveled him away.

That had been a scary revelation. Chaos' Spies and Intelligence Corp had conducted a thorough investigation, and found that Order's forces had managed to construct some type of field generator that blocked all external shadow powers. All of Chaos' personnel with the Third Blessing were still able to see perfectly in the dark, but they couldn't use their powers in any outward way. No shadow traveling, and no manipulating shadows. It was a big adjustment.

It certainly leveled the playing field. In fact, it gave Order's forces an advantage. They had no counterpart to Chaos' Third Blessing, so they had no powers to be muted. But what they did have, was vastly superior strength, speed, and reflexes, as well as an impossibly quick healing factor. If Percy had to guess, he would say that it came down to what Chaos had told him about the difference between her and her brother's power. Order had more raw power, which was shown off by his forces' enhanced strength. Whereas Chaos had less sheer power, but used it in more diverse and clever ways, hence giving her soldiers a more varied power set.

An additional benefit that Order's forces were lauding over them, was their technological superiority. It was something they'd been keeping under wraps until the generator had gone up, but now they were flaunting their advantage. The weapons they used, were unlike anything Percy had ever seen before. For one thing, a lot of them were able to tear right through Chaos' Army's supposedly impenetrable armor. That was how Moril had ended up show the day the generator had gone up. The mysterious bullet that had torn right through the armor, had been the first one fired from one of their advanced guns.

An additional aspect of their tech, was their own armor. That was truly impenetrable. There wasn't a gun Percy had ever come across that was capable of piercing it. Thankfully, an advantage that Chaos' Army had over Order's forces, was their training. Order hadn't had the decades and centuries required to train his people to be the pinnacle of what was achievable. So, he'd been forced to work with what he had. Chaos' Army had better tactics, more experience, and hundreds of thousands of years of institutional know-how. While fancy toys were really no substitute for that, Order was clearly doing his very best.

But even their experience carried a downside. Never in the history of Chaos' Army, had its members been forced to work without the Third Blessing. They'd always had it. Now that it was gone, they were struggling to adapt tactics they'd been using for millenia, into something completely new, and it was not without growing pains.

Suddenly, they were underpowered and overmatched. They had to rely on technology far more than they used to. Literally overnight, helicopters and transport had become a hundredfold more important. The lack of shadow travel also made it much harder to strike quickly. Instead of suddenly appearing near any given target, most of the Army chose to drive in, or touch down on helicopters which could be heard from a mile away. It gave away their biggest advantage; surprise.

But the element of surprise was not an advantage Percy, his team, and the Dead Men were willing to give up. They figured out a new tactic out of necessity. Instead of driving or flying in, they walked or skydived. When the rest of the Operatos jumped out of a place with a parachute for the first time, Percy nearly cried with laughter at the looks on their faces. He'd heard all about parachutes from his time on Earth, and knew what to expect, even if he'd never used one himself. But the rest of them? They'd come to rely on their shadow powers for parachutes. When they first saw the bag with a piece of cloth inside it that was supposed to stop them from plummeting to the ground at lethal speeds, their jaws went for a skydive of their own.

Since he was representing Earth, Percy had to remain cool and composed as he demonstrated the use of the cloth parachute. And he thought he managed it adequately. On the inside, however? It was a very different story. He came very close to throwing up several times during his landing. Maybe he had also become a little bit reliant on the ability to construct parachutes out of shadow, which he had full control over.

Almost a year after the incident with Delta team, Percy had a little shock. He, Pricela, and Moril had just come out of a brutal battle. He was nursing a broken leg, which was making it difficult to walk. He'd taken an enemy round that had gone right through his femur and shattered it. The trio went down to the mess hall, in desperate need of protein. It happened to be one of the regularly schedule meal times, so the place was packed. But they were Spec Ops Operators, so getting a table would be no problem. Virtually anyone in the Infantry would shoot out of their seat is if fired from a canon, if they just asked.

"Percy!" a voice called out from one of the tables.

He half turned, expecting a 'fan'. Quite a few of them had popped up. With everything he'd done during the war so far, a lot of the regular soldiers had come to almost revere him. Percy found it vaguely annoying, but he supposed it gave them some measure of hope, so he wouldn't complain about it too much. Not to anyone besides Pricela, Moril, and Sara, at least.

But it wasn't a fan. It was Hazel.

She was sitting at one of the smaller tables, with 3 Infanty soldiers. Percy blinked in utter surprise.

He bit the inside of his cheek harshly. He hadn't sensed her. In his defence, Percy hadn't slept in nearly 4 days, but still.

Hazel was gesturing him over, which was entirely unnecessary. He was already on his way. He told Pricela and Moril to grab him some food and then come join him.

The three Infantry soldiers she was with, were staring up at him in shock when he arrived at their table.

"Do you mind if my friends and I steal your seats? My leg is a bit messed up," Percy said.

As expected, they vanished like cartoons, leaving smoke trails in their wake.

Percy sat down and looked Hazel over carefully.

She looked good. Strong. Hazel had never been overweight in her life, but she still looked slimmer than he had ever seen her. But her arms, exposed under the rolled up sleeves of her shirt, looked chiselled. There was a look of toughness in her eyes, that he had grown accustomed to seeing in the harder soldiers. And she looked confident. Hazel had always had a slight problem with confidence. She was typically more of a wallflower than some of the other demigods; unsure of her abilities and capabilities. But now, she looked like she had finally realised that she was a baddass, and owned it.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

She should have still been in Phase 1 of OTC by this point. There was no way that they were already to the point of pulling candidates out of OTC to aid in the war effort. Surely.

Her eyes suddenly shifted downwards, and she looked slightly embarrassed.

"Well… I failed Selection."

Percy blinked.

"Oh."

"Yeah," she sighed, "During Hell Month. Day 20. It was just too much for me, you know? I couldn't carry on. I was starting to hallucinate. And being on Perstompa was enough of a shock already. I had no idea a place like that could even exist, you know? Anyway, I just gave up."

She seemed dejected.

"Honestly, I couldn't tell you how many times I thought about quitting during Hell Month. No one could ever blame you for getting overwhelmed. Keep your head up, Ok?"

Suddenly, there was a determined fire in her eyes.

"Oh, trust me, Percy, I'm keeping my head up. I'm not letting this be the end of it. I'm going to get more experience, and I'm gonna learn from last time, and then go right back and try again."

Percy couldn't help but smile at her.

"Hazel, I'm really proud of you."

Now she looked confused.

"Why? I mean, I failed. That's not something to be proud of."

"I'm not proud of you for failing. I'm proud of you for failing the right way. Do exactly what you said. Take what you can from it, learn from it, move on, and try again. You'll do better next time."

Her expression softened.

"Thanks, percy."

They smiled at each other for a few seconds before Hazel spoke up again.

"So, how the hell did you pass on your first try?"

"With extreme difficulty. Trust me, it was close. But my friend gave me some really good advice before I left, and I'm going to give it to you too. Don't get ahead of yourself. Don't overwhelm yourself thinking about what's coming next. What's coming, will come. Deal with it when it gets there. Just think about what you have to do in that moment, and absolutely nothing else. Your own brain is your biggest obstacle to your success. Like during Hell Month. When you start your day, make it your life's mission to get to breakfast. Then from breakfast, make it to lunch. After lunch, get to dinner. After dinner, get to breakfast, and then start it all over again. If you can do that every day, then you'll get through. It won't be easy, but you'll get through."

Hazel nodded thoughtfully.

"And what comes after Selection?"

"You go to OTC. That's where you learn all the skills you'll need to be an Operator. It'll take a long time, but it's worth it. Anyway, what happened after you left Selection?"

She shrugged, "Well, my second choice was to join Soldier Branch for Infantry. I was going to go with Cavalry, but then I found out it was tanks, not horses."

Percy laughed, "Yeah, I made that same mistake."

She grinned, "I got through basic training with no real issue, and served here and there for a little while. Then I tried out for the Jumpers and got in. A little more training, and now I'm serving with them."

Percy didn't know much about the vaunted Jumpers. They were the elites of the Infantry, essentially. They made their name by parajumping into hostile territory and wreaking havoc behind enemy lines. It was a good gig. He'd worked with them a few times, and was suitably impressed. They were just one step below the Spec Ops Operators, with a highly specialised mission set. Hazel joining them, was an impressive accomplishment in its own right.

"That's great. How are you finding it?"

"I like it," she shrugged again, "Of course my main choice is still to join Spec Ops, but I'm learning a lot here."

Pricela and Moril arrived with their food, and Moril slid an extra tray in front of Percy.

"We talking Jumpers?" Pricela asked as she took her seat, "Cool motherfuckers, if you ask me. I was tempted to go Soldier Branch just to try and join them, but I decided on Assassin instead. I don't know what it is, but long-distance kill shots, meticulously crafted 'accidents', and poisonings just appealed to me. It's just so much more me."

She said it with a wistful look in her eye that made Percy and Moril exchange awkward glances.

Moril lifted a finger to the side of his head and made a circling motion; the universal signal for 'lunatic'. Pricela, who hadn't even been looking his way, slapped him on the shoulder.

"Shut it, choir boy," she chided.

"Psycho," he retorted.

"Fuckface."

Moril opened his mouth to reply, when Percy cut them both off.

"That's enough of that. You're friends; act like it."

There was some grumbling, and a few hand gestures that they must have thought were covert enough that Percy would miss them, but nothing more.

"Anyway, Hazel, when do you think you'll try Selection again?" Percy asked.

"Well, I've been thinking about that. I know I'm allowed 3 tries, but I want to nail it on the second one, so I'll need to be ready. I definitely want at least 3 more years of experience in real world situations before I try again, and I'm going to spend as much of that time as I possibly can, getting in shape for it. I know I'll need to get a lot stronger. And I've heard rumours that there's a tactical phase near the end of Selection, so I want to make sure I have that stuff down."

Percy, Pricela, and Moril said nothing, but exchanged covert smiles.

They were about to continue the conversation, when Plean arrived at their table.

"We've got a briefing. The Intel guys think they found something. 5 minutes."

And then he walked away. In the year that they had been working together, Plean hadn't exactly warmed to the - in his own words - 'intruders on his team'. Their professional relationship was strained. Their personal relationship was nonexistent.

"Who's that?" Hazel asked, when Plean was out of the mess hall's door.

"Just some asshole who thinks he's our boss," Percy said, and Pricela and Moril snorted in amusement.

"Oh. So, do you have to go?"

Percy, who had lifted his glass to his lips to take a sip of water, paused and smirked over the rim.

"Nah. He can wait."

6 minutes later, the trio left the mess hall, leaving Hazel to rejoin her Jumper friends. They walked to their briefing room at a leisurely pace, if for no other reason than to prove a point. They arrived to find the Dead Men sitting around a conference table, along with two full Spec Ops teams; Alpha Team and Charlie Team. Percy also recognised some senior Sergeants and officers from the Infantry. Tan, the Target Acquisition Officer, was standing in front of a huge map pinned to the wall. A few officers were standing off to the side, arms crossed, practically glaring at the map. They were probably slightly annoyed that they weren't the center of attention. That indicated that they weren't Spec Ops officers; most of them, at least. And that told Percy that something serious was going on. None of the officers had insignias on their uniforms, but Percy could easily identify the look of the Air Force, the Infantry, and the Cavalry. If all of them had to be brought into whatever this was, then it had to be an Operation demanding incredible firepower. Further evidence of this Operation's incredible importance, was the fact that General Gilln, the General in charge of the entire war effort on Lomik, was present too. Percy had rarely, if ever, seen him at a briefing before.

"Well, I'm happy to see that you've deigned to grace us with your presence, Jackson," General Gilln growled from his seat at the head of the conference table.

Percy ignored him and led Pricela and Moril to their own seats at the conference table.

Nami spoke up next.

"Newbies must have gotten lost on the way. It's not like we can expect them to know the basic layout of the building they work in."

Percy ignored her too.

The trio sat down and turned to the map on the wall, waiting for Tan to begin her briefing.

"Alright, everyone, thank you for coming. As you all know, 18 months ago enemy forces managed to create and establish some kind of forcefield around the entire planet, that completely negates our shadow powers. This has led to some of the bloodiest battles in our history. Total number of deaths traced directly to this lack of powers, is being estimated at nearly 500. From the moment the forcefield went up, the Spy Corps have been searching for its source relentlessly. Well, we believe we may have found it."

Percy exchanged looks with Pricela and Moril. If they really had found the machine that was giving Order's forces such an advantage, then that was a massive development. If they could destroy it, then the war would be over within months.

"Based on satellite imagery taken from the moment the force field was activated, we were able to narrow the search down to this region here," she gestured on the map, "The Khandak mountains. Our Spies believe they've narrowed it down to this particular cluster here."

The Khandak mountains were a collection of mountains out in the wasteland of Lomik, thousands of miles from any kind of civilization. There were no indigenous people making their homes there. There nearest building of any kind, was somewhere in the neighborhood of 5000 miles away. And for good reason. The Khandak mountains region was simultaneously the hottest and coldest area of the planet. Temperatures could go as high as 130 degrees fahrenheit, or as low as -58.

It all depended on the position of the sun. When the region was under direct sunlight, it got superheated. When the sun faded, it became unbearably cold. Percy didn't really understand it personally, but he'd been there once in the early days of the war, and it had been utterly miserable. The temperatures could shift on a dime. One moment you're dying of hyperthermia, and the next you're dying of hypothermia. The issue was made worse by the swiftness with which the temperature could change. It was completely normal to expect a temperature swing of nearly 200 degrees in less than a second. A change like that, was enough to shatter glass instantly. It wasn't fun for a person's body, either. Not to mention what happened to vehicles or, gods forbid, a helicopter.

In the early days of the war on Lomik, Chaos' Army had attempted to establish outposts in the region, and each attempt failed within days. No one could stand to be there for any stretch of time whatsoever.

"But there's no way they'd leave a machine like that unguarded," Sara pointed out, "They'd have to establish a garrison unit there, at the very least. And there's no way any unit could survive there indefinitely. I mean, we tried."

"Excellent point, Sergeant," Tao conceded, "Our Spies believe that they constructed their base deep underground, where they're more insulated, and have greater control of the temperature. If that's the case, and they're keeping the machine within the mountain itself, then their position could be incredibly fortified. Our analysis shows that this particular mountain could hold upwards of 10,000 personnel. Of course, that's only if they hollowed out the entire thing, which we think is highly unlikely, but that's the upper limit of what we can expect. Along with turrets, landmines, and cannons."

"Wouldn't we have noticed if they were constructing a base in a hollowed out mountain?" Percy asked, "I mean, that would have to be an incredibly elaborate operation. There would be explosives galore, thousands of tons of dirt and stone to move, and huge numbers of personnel all over the place until it was finished."

"Ah. Yes. Well, that's where our oversight comes into play. Due to the inhospitable nature of the region, as well as its lack of any tactical significance, we simply haven't wasted our time or resources watching it carefully. We've had overhead flights every now and then, but nothing comprehensive. Even if we had wanted to keep a closer eye, it would have been incredibly difficult. The temperature swings make it incredibly dangerous for aircraft, or vehicles of any kind. They could have learned our schedule, and worked around it. As for the materials, we believe that after moving the initial few tons, they will have found some way of destroying it all on-site. Perhaps by disintegration."

Silence descended over the briefing room. A mission in the Khandak mountains would be an immense undertaking. They had literally everything going against them.

"Alright," Percy said when the silence became unbearable, "Let's just get down to it. What, exactly, are our orders?"

Tan turned to General Gilln, who took a deep breath.

"You don't have any. We aren't ordering anyone to do anything here. This mission, should there be one, is volunteer only. Just know that the more people who say yes, the higher the chance of success. And the success of this mission will impact the war effort on this planet in an incredible way. Countless lives will be saved. So, tell me right now; who's in?"

There wasn't a single second of hesitation. Everyone in the room's hands rose. Then a beat of silence.

"Excellent."

"So, how are we doing this?" Percy asked.

"We only have a rough outline of a plan." Tan picked up, "We didn't want to proceed, given the fact that this is strictly volunteer-only. The way we see it, the Spec Ops Operators in this room will be the tip of the spear, pushing forwards and leading the rest of the assault force. Behind them, will be 2 companies of Infantry Jumpers, hand-picked for this mission. Alongside and behind them, will be 2 dozen tanks from the Cavalry. In the sky, we'll have drone bombers flying just inside the atmosphere, where the temperature swings are the least aggressive. We would have wanted a few helicopters, but they just can't handle the temp swings, so there's no way. Even the tanks will be a 50-50."

"Can't we bomb it from atmosphere? Just obliterate the fucking thing?" Alpha team's TL asked.

"Well, we could certainly drop a bomb on it," an Air Force officer said, "But the problem is, we've detected readings that suggest a shield is in place. Knowing the opposition's technological capabilities, the only way we could guarantee destroying the generator, would be to destroy the entire planet along with it. Anything less, and it might just bounce right off."

"Fine, air bombardment is out," a Jumper Sergeant said, "But can anyone tell me how exactly those of us dumb enough to be on the ground, are going to survive those temp swings? 'Cause personally; I don't see how that's going to work."

Tan opened her mouth, a reluctant look on her face, but Percy spoke before she could get any words out.

"I might have a solution."

Nami snorted derisively.

"Well, sure," she said, sarcastic amusement dripping from her words like a venom, "If the guy who can't figure out how to get to a briefing on time has an idea to keep us all alive, then by all means, I'm sure it's gonna be great."

Percy ignored her. Sara turned to glare at her, and was about to speak up, when she was cut off by Plean, the Dead Men TL.

"That's enough, Nami. If Jackson says he's got something, then I think we at least owe him the respect to hear him out."

Percy fought a small smile. He had to give it to the man; Plean was tough but fair.

"Well, maybe 'solution' is putting things a bit strongly. But it's something at least. Everyone here knows that I'm from Earth, right? I'm a demigod, son of Poseidon, God of the Seas. That gives me some pretty strong aquakinesis. I could cover all the soldiers on the ground, and maybe even the tanks as well, in a thin layer of water, and manually change the temperature to adjust to the ambient swings and insulate the person inside. I don't know exactly how effective it would be, but it'd be something at least."

The room stared at him.

"Are you sure your powers can handle that?" Plean asked, "2 companies of jumpers, is 400. Plus Alpha and Charlie teams, the six of us, and your own team. That's 433 people you would need to cover simultaneously, and we haven't even gotten to the cavalry yet. That's a hell of a lot."

"I can do it," Percy said, utterly confident, "My only concern is how effective I could be as an Operator on the ground, if I'm already doing that much. It might split my concentration a little."

"I think we're overlooking the fact that the only indication we have that Jackson can do this, is his own word," Nami sneered, "How can we possibly take that at face value? It's not like we could go out there with 433 people and a dozen tanks to test it out."

Tan opened her mouth to speak yet again, but was bulldozed by Sara, who was glaring at Nami.

"I have total confidence in him. If Percy says he can do it, then it's a done deal."

Nami went to answer back, when Tan finally managed to get a word in.

"Actually, if I may, we can test out Sergeant Jackson's theory."

Now the entire room's attention returned to her.

"You aren't actually suggesting we go all the way out there, just so Jackson can play his little hunch?" Nami demanded.

Percy swore he saw some of the Infantry, Cavalry, and Air Force officers have simultaneous heart attacks at the sight of a lowly Sergeant talking back to a superior officer.

"Of course not," Tan said, with a slight edge in her voice, "I had something quite different in mind. The Corps of Engineers have come up with something that could prove incredibly useful in our preparations. It's basically a massive chamber, about the size of a Basic Training room, in the TC in Chaos' Realm."

Percy raised an eyebrow at the size. He'd spent thousands of hours in those rooms, and knew the proportions well. A single one was like 3 football fields side by side.

"They built it specifically for this mission. It has the single most powerful climate control system ever devised, installed in it. That being said, it still can't quite handle the speed with which the temperature in the Khandaq regions shift, but it should get pretty close. The average time it takes to go from 130 degrees to -58, is 0.87 seconds in the region, while our simulation room can do it in 1.14 seconds. Originally, we were going to use it to attempt to get everyone acclimatised, but if Sergeant Jackson thinks he can work it, then I suggest we give it a try."

"Where's the simulation room?" Plean asked.

"Back on Chaos' Realm, unfortunately. We leave for there in one hour. Now, one final thing before you're dismissed; This is, of course, a highly sensitive topic. It is absolutely vital that word of this mission not leave this room. I cannot overstate how important this is. Once you leave here, do not speak a word about it, even to each other; you never know who's listening."

"You're saying we can't even trust our own people?" the Charlie team TL asked derisively.

"That's precisely what I'm saying," Tan replied coolly.

Percy and Plean shared a glance, and both thought back to the circumstances under which they met. Percy had been framed by a member of his own team. And just before all that, Percy had made a splash by taking out a fellow Operator, turned rogue.

They both knew that it was far from the realms of impossibility for one of their comrades to turn on them, and they really did have to watch what they said, and who they said it to. But they also knew that most of the soldiers in the room would rather die than think of a brother in arms as untrustworthy. Trust and faith were vital building blocks for soldiers in combat, and trust and faith in the person standing next to them was above all else. So simply saying that they couldn't trust their fellow Operators, was tantamount to telling them to just stop breathing.

"Well, look at it this way, Jin," Plean started in a calming tone, "If any of us mentions a word about this to anyone else, they're going to want in. I mean, wouldn't you? At some point, there are too many cooks in the kitchen. We need to be fast, mobile, and agile. We can't be, if we're dragging a force of a thousand people, can we? Nah, I think leadership has the right idea here. A smaller force that can move in quick and strike hard, is just about perfect."

The Charlie team TL, Jin, seemed stunned into silence that Plean, the Dead Men's TL, even knew his name. Now, there was no way he could disobey, or he'd be disobeying Plean, rather than a superior officer. Technically, disobeying a superior officer was much worse; but practically? Everyone knew who was really in charge. And everyone knew who they didn't want to go up against. The Team Leader of the legendary Dead Men, was probably the second most feared person in the Army, right behind Chaos herself.

"Uh, sure, absolutely," Jin said when he recovered enough.

Plean smiled in a way that implied he was thanking Jin, even though that was far from the case, and looked back to Tan.

"Is there anything else, or can we go get our stuff together?"

"No, that's it. Meet at the airfield in," she checked her watch, "57 minutes."

Everyone filed out of the room

56 minutes and 30 seconds later, Percy was standing on the tarmac of the airfield, along with 432 other people, when a small army of drop ships emerged from the clouds.

—-

When they started training for their mission in the simulation chamber on Chaos' Ream, Percy discovered that he could, indeed, maintain a covering of water on each member of the 433-person team, plus a couple of tanks. But it was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do. Keeping track of that many people, was like paying individual attention to each bee in a hive the size of a large watermelon.

Interestingly enough, it wasn't that much of a strain on his power; he had accomplished feats demanding much more raw power than 433 bodies and a few tanks, but the mental stress it put him under was enough to utterly exhaust him. By the time they called it a day, after 18 solid hours of rehearsals, Percy had just enough energy to crawl to his apartment, collapse onto the bed, and pass out for 4 entire hours, which was more than he ever typically slept.

The rehearsals had gone fairly well though. The room was massive, and could simulate the climate of the Khandaq mountains extremely well. Chaos' Corps of Engineers had built artificial mountains to give them a look at what it would be like in the actual terrain, and automated turrets had been set up to fire simunitions on the approaching forces, to give them even more of an idea of what it would be like on the actual mission.

As he'd expected, maintaining the water shield on all of the Spec Ops Operators and Jumpers had dominated his attention, and the first few times they'd rehearsed the scenario, Percy had been shot by half a dozen simunition rounds from the turrets. He was forced to sit out for the rest of the scenario, and once his water shields had gone, the rest of the assault force succumbed to the vicious temperature swings. About half the Jumpers passed out straight away, and the rest were so distracted by the change in temperature that they were made utterly ineffective for the combat. Even the Operators among them had their combat capabilities reduced so much, they were operating at half capacity, and were promptly wiped out by the numerous turrets firing hundreds of rounds per second.

But as Percy had practised more and more, he'd gotten used to splitting his focus like that, and became more effective at the actual fighting that would be taking place. At least, he stayed alive. As far as first steps went, he thought that was a pretty good one.

Another factor splitting his focus, was Hazel's presence. She was one of the Jumpers hand-picked to go on the mission, and even though he told himself that she was well-trained and well-equipped to handle herself in the field, he couldn't help but keep an eye on her when the bullets started flying. He wasn't sure if she even knew or not, because every time she caught his eye, she just winked and grinned. When he tried to talk to her about the mission, all she could talk about was how excited she was to go, and that she was amazed to have been picked for something so important.

Probably for his own good, Percy was way ahead of her in the formation they'd be taking. The Operators and Jumpers would be in a wide triangle formation, with the Operators right at the front, while the Jumpers would be slightly behind with heavy artillery and machine guns, and the 24 tanks they were allocated, would be fanned out to the sides. It was a wider pattern than Percy might have liked, but they would be approaching a brutal objective, and they wanted all the firepower they had, to be readily accessible.

On their second day back in Chaos' Realm, they spent another 18 hours rehearsing. Towards the end, they managed to complete their objective and destroy the simulated generator for the first time. But they'd lost nearly all of the Jumpers in the attempt. They rehearsed more the next day, and the day after that, until they were able to run through the operation blind.

It took 2 weeks of daily rehearsals, but they were confident in their ability to complete the mission. There would likely still be losses, but that was just a fact of war. Things were still going to go wrong. The unexpected could be lurking behind any and every corner. That was another fact of war. But they'd done everything they realistically could to prepare themselves.

They flew back to Lomik, and geared up for the mission the next day.

—-

Percy was sitting on a helicopter, nearly at their destination. There were 3 helicopters, each carrying 11 Operators. The Infantry Jumpers would skydive in from a cargo plane just barely within the atmosphere, and they'd be escorting the tanks down with them. Of course, the tanks would be under parachutes the size of circus tents, and the Jumpers would be giving them a very wide berth.

The helicopters were lighter and faster than the massive cargo ships, so they would drop off the Operators as close to their destination as they could get. The Operators would fast-rope down and secure the landing site. Then they'd move onwards on foot, and secure the sight where the Jumpers and tanks would land. Once the entire force assembled, they'd carry on to the most likely mountain to be hiding the base. It was endlessly frustrating to Percy that they still didn't have an exact location, but he'd just have to deal with it.

As Percy sat on the floor of the helicopter, with his feet dangling out the door and over the edge, he contemplated the nature of the mission they were about to embark on. If they were successful, then the war on Lomik would be over within months. Since Order's forces had shown their hand, in terms of their technological capabilities and their powers, Chaos' Army could more effectively counter. Once they had their shadow powers back, scouring the planet and riding it of Order's forces would be so much easier.

Once Order's forces were gone, Chaos' Army would simply have to establish a garrison to make sure they didn't come back, and then they could effectively leave the planet alone. The local population would rebuild, with the help of Chaos' Corps of Engineers, and resume their daily lives as best as they could. The local insurgents were nothing without Order's forces behind them, and the local authorities could handle them without too much issue.

How many lives would be saved as a result of their mission? That was the kind of question that no one would ever know the answer to, but it was one worth pondering anyway. That was the whole reason they were even doing any of this in the first place. To help people.

Others might find it to be a strange dichotomy, that they were going about their goal of helping people, by assembling a massive strike force, and seeking to eliminate tens of thousands of people from the face of a planet, but it made sense to Percy. He'd found in his time as a demigod on Earth, and a soldier in Chaos' Army that sometimes, the only way to help a certain group of people, was to decimate another. As long as the people he was helping were the innocents, and the group he was decimating were the cause of untold pain and suffering, then Percy would have no trouble sleeping at night, on those rare occasions that he did actually sleep.

As a result, when Percy was one of 433 highly trained soldiers readying to embark on a mission to kill a potential maximum of 10,000 enemy personnel, he wasn't having any second thoughts. He wasn't worrying about what that would do to his own mental state after the fact. He was a soldier, and he had a job to do. It was a good job. He believed in it. So he would fight for it until his last breath.

It wasn't a sense of panic, or anxiety settling down on him as he rode the helicopter. Nor was it excitement, or anticipation. It was just the grim determination to do what was necessary, and hopefully live to see another day.

As he looked across the landscape in the dark, Chaos' third blessing lighting up the area for him as if it were daytime, he thought it looked strangely beautiful. It was a shame it had seen so much violence. And was about to see so much more.

Percy took a deep breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth, and closed his eyes for a moment.

And then the sky exploded.

Out of nowhere, there were eardrum-shattering explosions just above the helicopter, and then tracer rounds from heavy machine guns came towards the Operators' helicopters in a seemingly never-ending barrage. Immediately, the pilots started taking evasive maneuvers, but there was no escaping the machine guns, let alone all the rockets that were coming their way. The helicopter behind Percy's was the first one to get hit, as a rocket struck the tail rotor, and it started spiraling out of control.

Percy strongly considered jumping off and taking his chances, but thought better of it. He wasn't able to conjure a parachute out of shadows, and he didn't have a regular one with him, as they had planned on fast roping. They weren't high enough off the ground for the parachute to have the time to wake effect anyway. If he jumped, he'd just shatter his kneecaps and render himself useless for the rest of the mission.

The helicopter in front of Percy's was the next one to go down. It wasn't hit by a rocket, but rather was shredded by machine gun fire to the point that it lost its lift and started plummeting down to the ground. Thankfully, none of the rounds had found its fuel tank, so it didn't explode. The Operators inside at least had a chance of survival.

Finally, Percy's helicopter was hit, and it went down Machine gun fire damaged the electronics beyond salvation, and a rocket hit the tail rotor. The pilot had been moving evasively, hoping to avoid getting hit too much, but it hadn't been enough. Once the tail rotor went out, the previously erratic-seeming movement was made to look tame, as they spun out of control and spiraled downwards. Percy had to grab a handrail on the side of the interior wall in an effort to stop himself from flying around inside. It was like being on the inside of a tumble dryer, except times a hundred. That being said, he knew that the Operators who were behind him, standing up, were having a way tougher time than he was. Especially the ones in the middle of the group, who had nothing to hold on to except their teammates.

"Listen up!" Plean shouted through the chaos, "When this bird is less than 50 feet above the ground, we fucking jump and hope for the best!"

Plean and the rest of the Dead Men were on the helicopter, along with Percy, Pricela, and Moril, and 2 Operators from the other teams. That meant that when Plean said something, it was treated as gospel..

Percy used his enhanced senses to roughly estimate how high they were, and figured it to be about 200 feet above the ground. They were falling fast, so Percy didn't have much time to move. As one of the 4 Operators sitting on the sides, he would have to be one of the first to jump so that the others would have time before the helicopter crashed.

There was a strong piece of cord fixed to the back of Percy's combat gear, which was securing him to the helicopter, and was the only thing that had prevented him from flying out of it, what with all the spinning. With one hand, he braced himself against the side of the helicopter, and reached behind his back with the other to undo the clasp. He found the mechanism and undid it. As soon as the cord was undone, another rocket struck the tail of the helicopter, which made it lurch forwards suddenly. Percy flew forwards so fast, it looked as if some god had reached down from the heavens with a cosmic vacuum cleaner and sucked him right out of that helicopter. If not for the hand he'd braced against the side of the helicopter, he would have been sucked out completely, fallen all the way down, and broken a lot of bones on impact.

As it was, his grip held strong, but as that was his only point of leverage, the rest of his body swung around, and flew out of the door. He was left holding on for dear life with one hand, his body pressed up against the outside of the helicopter. The geforce was so intense that he couldn't even raise his other hand to hold on. He could see Pricela, who had been sitting on the floor next to him, reaching desperately for him, but her arms weren't long enough, and she was still strapped in.

This was the type of situation Percy hated with a vengeance. There was absolutely nothing for him to do. He was entirely at the mercy of exterior forces. It didn't matter how hard he'd trained, or how good he was. If the circumstances were right, he was fucked, and that was all there was to it.

And it seemed the circumstances were right. The force was too much for him, even with his superhuman strength, and his hand slipped off the side of the door he'd been desperately holding on to.

For a split second, he was completely unattached to the helicopter and technically in freefall, before a hand reached around the corner and grabbed his own. He looked up to see who it was, and saw Nami's face rear around the corner, as his weight pulled her forwards a few inches before she found an anchor point.

Her face was a mask of pure concentration and determination. Her teeth were clenched so hard, Percy thought they might crack against each other, and her eyes were screwed shut. She was making a sustained grunting sound that would have sounded like a lion's roar if he could hear anything over the wind howling in his ears.

With a colossal effort, she hauled him towards her enough that he managed to get a grip on the skids of the helicopter and get his knee over so he was wrapped around it. All of a sudden, there were hands all over him, pulling him up and into the cabin. Once he was holding on to the sides as tight as he possibly could, he turned around to see who had dragged him up, and saw that it was Sara, Pricela, Plean, and Nami. He gave them all a grateful nod, which they acknowledged with a nod of their own. Percy couldn't help but notice that Sara looked like she was about to throw up.

They continued their uncontrolled descent for 20 more seconds before they were close enough to the ground that they could jump safely. After his earlier experience, Percy was supremely reluctant to voluntarily exit the aircraft while still in midair, but he knew he had no choice. He planted his feet against the skids and pushed off as hard as his superhuman strength would allow him. He knew he needed to put as much distance as he could between his ragdoll form, and the spinning tail rotor unless he wanted it to slam into his ass.

Percy hit the ground hard, but he'd had some training in how to fall without seriously harming himself. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he went limp and rolled onto his back to dissipate the force. It still messed up his knees to some degree, but they weren't broken. Aside from that, he was mainly just a little winded. He tried to stand up, but it turned out to be a little too fast, and he threw up violently.

Once he was done, Percy stood up on shaky legs and went out in search of his fellow Operators. They'd be nearby, but not too nearby. It took them a few minutes to gather together. They checked on the pilots and found them both alive, but injured. One of them had broken both his arms and was dealing with a concussion, while the other had broken his spine, which Percy knew from experience, would heal but not for a long time. Either way, they could not bring either of them along.

"So, what do we do with them?" asked the Operator from Alpha team that had been on their helicopter.

They exchanged a look, trying to decide.

"Alright, look," Percy finally said, "We can't take them with us, and there's no way we can leave them here; they'll get found within an hour. Is there any way we can radio for a medevac? We'll probably need it for the pilots and some Operators in the other helos too."

Sara looked up from the radio she'd been trying to make work, and shook her head.

"No way. There's some kind of signal jammer. The only contact I can make is the other helos, and that's just static anyway."

"Ok, then I suggest we find the others, get a headcount and triage. Once we know who's good and who's not, we can figure out our next move. Everyone happy with that?"

They all nodded. The Operator from Alpha team carried the pilot with the broken spine over his shoulder, with another arm slung around the one with the concussion and broken arms. Within half an hour, all 33 Operators and 6 pilots had found each other and grouped together. None of the pilots had escaped without crippling injury, and a few of the Operators had been deeply unlucky with the crash and gotten injured. 2 of them were suffering from broken legs that would heal, but they didn't have the time for that. A few more were concussed, and they would be out of the fight as well. A couple had broken arms, but they'd still be able to shoot, and were more than willing to fight.

The decision was made to have the Operators who couldn't fight, escort the pilots to safety. Even when injured, Percy would bet on his fellow Operators to hold their own against just about any incoming attack, so they'd be more than capable of defending the pilots.

In the end, 7 Operators and all 6 pilots would leave the group and start heading back to base, until they were out of range of whatever signal jammer was wreaking havoc on their radios. Once they were out of range, they'd call in backup to take them back to the nearest base, where they could get the medical attention they needed.

Once they had departed, the remaining 26 Operators turned to each other.

"How long do we have until the Jumpers and Cavalry land?" a Charlie team Operator asked the group.

Plean checked his watch.

"An hour."

"And how far away are we?"

"About… 30 klicks."

30 klicks meant 30 kilometers, which was a little over 18 and a half miles.

"Well then… we'd better hustle. If they knew where we were going to be, there's a good chance there's an ambush waiting for the Jumpers when they land."

The remaining Operators slung their backpacks over their shoulders, set their rifles' fire selector switch to single-fire, and started moving quickly. Moving quickly, for Spec Ops Operators, was faster than a dead sprint from an Olympic athlete on Earth. They were covering ground like there was a pack of hellhounds chasing after them, but after what they'd all been through in Selection, it was like a light jog on a saturday morning.

They covered the 30 kilometers in around 40 minutes. Keeping a fair distance between themselves and the actual landing site, they scoped it out for threats. Their heightened senses, usually so helpful in detecting enemy ambushes, would be all but useless against Order's forces. They had to manually search the area for any telltale signs of enemies lying in wait.

Not daring to speak a word to each other, the Operators had to use hand signals to communicate. They managed to find 20 enemy soldiers hidden in the area, in bushes and tall grass, and in holes they must have dug themselves and covered up with leaves. They were well hidden, but the Operators were better. They used hand signals to relay the enemy positions, and put together a quick plan. There were enough Operators present that each of them could take a specific enemy and they'd all take them out simultaneously, not giving any of them the chance to call for backup.

Percy crawled over to his designated enemy combatant, and prepared himself for the explosion of violence he'd unleash upon to the unsuspecting fucker. All of Order's forces had the ability to teleport instantaneously, as John had once demonstrated to Percy in a run down shack in the middle of nowhere, right before a missile had landed on the roof. For that reason, they'd have to kill them all instantaneously, or as near as possible, to ensure that none of them got away to report back.

Looking over at Plean, who was giving the countdown, with his perfect night vision that Order's device hadn't managed to negate, Percy readied his knife and waited for the countdown to reach zero. Plean had 5 fingers raised. Percy was holding his breath. He couldn't risk an exhale tipping off his target before he was ready. Not at such close proximity.

4 fingers now. It was getting close. Percy rehearsed the moves in his head.

3 fingers. A savage strike to the back of the throat.

2 fingers. Spin him around and slam the knife down under the chin.

1 finger. A final strike to the cranium for insurance.

A fist. Go time.

Percy lashed out with a vicious stab straight to the back of the enemy's throat, severing the spinal column and the trachea. Without lingering for even a second, Percy wrenched the knife back out again, and spun the guy around. He was on the way out, but still clinging to life. Percy stabbed downwards aiming for the point just under the chin, hoping to sever the brainstem and cause instant death. Whether he got it or not, he wasn't sure, but he followed up with a final strike just to be sure. Once it was free from the throat, Percy stabbed the knife down straight into the forehead and into the brain. Normally, stabbing through the skull was a fairly bad idea. But Percy's knife, made of Chaotic steel, was ultra-sharp, reminding Percy of the Celestial Bronze sword, Riptide, which he hadn't been able to use in a very long time, as it was only effective against monsters.

Once his job was done, Percy looked up to the rest of the Operators to make sure that they'd all had the same success that he'd had. Naturally, that was the case. They stood from the freshly made corpses, and fanned out around the perimeter of the landing site, just to make sure that there were no incoming reinforcements. It was all clear. 15 minutes later, the Jumpers arrived.

When the Jumpers landed, it was a sight to behold. 400 soldiers crashing to the ground under canopies was an impressive vision, made all the more awe-inspiring by the tanks that came with them. When the tanks landed, it shook the ground so hard, Percy was sure that even if they hadn't just been ambushed in the air, they would have given away any element of surprise they might have had.

Once the Jumpers were all on the ground and had their gear ready, they moved into their positions. Percy instinctively sought out Hazel. She was clustered with some of her teammates and friends, and looked completely confident. As much as Percy could appreciate that attitude, he had hoped to find at least a sliver of apprehension in her. Confidence was good, but Percy would rather her be more in tune with her self-preservation instincts. He'd prefer her to keep her head down and stay as safe as she could, rather than be a hero.

He was well aware of the hypocrisy, of course. He had absolutely no intention of keeping his head down for any length of time whatsoever, even despite his near-death experience just one hour prior. But despite his own awareness of his hypocrisy, he couldn't help the feeling.

The leader of the Jumpers element - element being the term for any given faction that was part of a larger team - approached Plean.

"Where are the rest of you?"

"We ran into some enemy fire on our way in. Took some casualties, but no fatalities. The ones who couldn't do the mission are escorting the pilots to safety."

The leader of the Jumpers element, a Captain, frowned.

"Are they gonna be ok on their own?"

Plean grinned a shark's grin, and said, "Injured or not, they're still Spec Ops. They'll handle business if anything comes up."

The Captain tried and failed to suppress a small shiver.

"All right, so there's; what; 26 of you left?

Plean nodded, "That's right."

"Is that gonna be enough?"

Plean grinned again, and said nothing. Apparently, he felt that such a question didn't even warrant a response.

The Jumpers and Operators managed to organize themselves into a formation, and the tank drivers climbed aboard their multi-ton vehicles to provide support. As ready as they were going to get, and with the darkness slipping away,

As they started their journey, Percy sought out Nami, and found her walking in formation with the rest of the Dead Men. He upped his pace a little so that he could catch up.

"Hey, Nami?"

She turned and looked at him blankly, nothing on her face.

"What?"

"I… uh…" this was harder than he remembered. When was the last time he had done this? Surely it hadn't been long enough that he completely forgot how it typically functioned.

She gave him a "Well?" look, and he steeled himself.

"Well, I just wanted to thank you for grabbing me, in that helo. It would have been a really rough landing if you hadn't dragged me back aboard."

She looked vaguely surprised for a second, then her expression shifted to one of utter annoyance.

"Kids," she muttered frustratedly, "Look, Jackson, just because I saved your ass, doesn't mean I like you. I barely tolerate your presence on my team. If it was even remotely my decision, you would be long gone by now. But you are on my team, so I'm not gonna let you fall halfway to your death. It doesn't mean I don't desperately wish you'd get as far away from me as it's possible to get."

Percy stared at her with raised eyebrows.

"What?" she snapped eventually.

"Nothing, it's just… well you're really still upset about that whole drowning incident, aren't you? I mean, at a certain point, you're going to have to let it go. This is just childish."

Her jaw dropped and she stared at him wide-eyed. Then he heard a snicker from Plean, which was the catalyst for a cavalcade of laughter from the rest of the Dead Men.

With a deep scowl, Nami started grumbling inaudibly. Percy thought he caught the words "see you you like it", and "calling me a child!". Her muttering did nothing to make her appear more mature.

After just 10 minutes of walking, they started to notice the temperature swings. It started out fairly mild, as they were only at the very edge of the reason. They weren't intense enough to risk harming people or damaging equipment, but it was noticeable.

15 minutes later, it had become deeply uncomfortable. That was when Percy called the group to a stop. He was able to draw water out of the moisture in the air, but it was a definite drain on his powers, and he'd need all the help he could get, so when the Jumpers had made their entrance, they'd brought 400 gallons of water with them. That would be enough for Percy to cover all of the people, and at least the majority of the tanks without any issue. If he had to, he could summon some more, to augment his supply. '

The Jumpers tasked with carrying the water, had been in the middle of the formation, so everyone made room for them as they set down 8, 50-gallon water tanks on the ground and opened them up. Percy closed his eyes, took a deep breath in through the nose and out through the mouth, and then raised his hand. Feeling the ever-familiar tug in his stomach, the water levitated out of the jugs and a thin layer enveloped each and every soldier in the formation, Percy himself included. Once all the actual people had been covered, he started on the tanks.

The entire process took a good few minutes, but everyone was covered by the end of it. It required intense concentration on Percy's part just to keep the water stuck to peoples' bodies, and it only got worse when the temperature would shift and he'd have to make all the water he was focusing on, either warmer or colder to compensate, while also dumping heat or piling it on to mitigate how much it would affect the person or vehicle being surrounded. It was overwhelmingly difficult.

Due to the need to concentrate so hard, Percy kept his eyes closed as the group began moving again. He didn't need them to navigate the terrain, as his enhanced senses mapped out the area around him like sonar. The only use in having his eyes open, would be to spot enemy Operators, but the other Operators in the group would spot them well before he did, due to him splitting his focus. If they started shooting at something, he would sense where they were shooting, and put rounds in the same direction.

So, that was how Percy found himself deep in enemy territory, plagued with a few minor injuries, carrying a 200-pound backpack on his shoulders, with his eyes closed. What a strange situation.

About an hour later, they were at the foot of the mountain they suspected to be the one housing the generator, and began their ascent. It was a steep mountain, so every step was more agonizing than the last. When walking uphill, especially on such a steep gradient, everything was compounded. If a person was carrying weight on their back, it would seem twice as heavy. The strain on their knees was doubled. The burning in their quads almost seemed tripled. And the increase in probability of falling and getting injured, was practically incalculable.

Percy and the other Spec Ops Operators, were handling it the best, by far. During Selection, they'd been up steeper mountains, with more weight on their back, as well as the increased gravity of Perstompa, all while maintaining a much faster pace in their attempt to beat the invisible clock that was constantly ticking away. The temperature swings made things more complex, but the water shields Percy was maintaining, as well as their general training to ignore any and all discomfort in favor of getting the job done, more than made up the difference. Second best, were the tanks. Designed and constructed by Chaos' Corps of Engineers, they were exceptionally good at handling any terrain thrown at them. The upper limit of what they could handle, was an incline of about 80 degrees. More than that, and they were useless, but anything up to that point, was manageable.

Last, were the Jumpers.

Jumpers went through Basic Training, just as everyone else did, and then went to Infantry School on Kennegmagogia. After that, they were sent to their own various units, and deployed to combat. Any soldier who had deployed at least 3 times, and had received a positive overall review from the rest of their unit and their officers, was allowed the opportunity to try out for Jumper Selection. Percy didn't know much about Jumper Selection, but imagined it was fairly rigorous. As far as he was aware, the attrition rate was somewhere in the range of 50%. If they passed, they underwent more training in various fields, and then were sent to a Jumper squadron. The next time that squadron was deployed to combat, the new addition would be on probation for the entirety of the deployment. If they performed during that deployment, then they were finally considered a Jumper.

All that meant that the Jumpers were no slouches. They were an excellent unit of highly-motivated people, who would do their job and do it well. But between the weight, the terrain, and the fact that they simply weren't used to this type of work, they were suffering quite a bit. Checking on them with his senses, Percy found that they were drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. They were keeping up, bless their hearts, and they weren't complaining, but they weren't having a good time of it.

Once again, Percy was reminded of exactly how much it meant, to be a Spec Ops Operator. To be surrounded by fellow Operators. Yes, the Selection process and subsequent training was brutal to the point of hellishness, but the end result was clear, and very favorable. He was happy to work with the Jumpers; they were killing machines and had no qualms in being unleashed like dogs of war, but he would always prefer working with fellow Operators. He just knew exactly where he stood with them. He knew exactly what they were capable of.

2 hours later, shit kicked off. They were huffing their way up the mountain, just as they had been, when suddenly the sharp crack of incoming rounds tore through the silence. Moving even before their brains had fully comprehended the implications of the sound, their training took over and their bodies switched to autopilot as they sought out whatever cover they could get, shooting back up the mountain in the hopes of suppressing the enemy in the meantime.

They were definitely enemy fighters, rather than any kind of automated defense. Percy could sense nothing except the sounds of the weapons and the bullets. That meant that the defenders, while probably not Order's equivalent of Operators, as they were far too valuable to use as guards, were still highly trained. While any Spec Ops Operator in Chaos' Army could hide themselves from heightened senses, most of the others couldn't. Some Assassins, a few Spies, and the odd Enforcer, but that was about it. The rest simply didn't bother to spend the time it took to learn and perfect the ability. The fact that these enemy combatants could do it flawlessly, was impressive.

Unfortunately, it also meant that Percy had to open his eyes to have any hope of being able to locate an enemy to shoot at, which made it far more difficult to focus on maintaining the water shields. He scanned up the mountain, searching for anything to shoot, but it was useless. Based on what he could hear of the guns firing, they were being shot by heavy machine guns and something called DMRs, which stood for Designated Marksman Rifles. They were the halfway point between assault rifles and sniper rifles. He figured they were being fired at from about 900 meters further up the mountain, which just sucked. Fighting uphill was awful, and fighting uphill against an entrenched enemy with long-range weapons, was just a nightmare.

Percy, taking cover behind a large-ish rock, looked to his left. Around 20 feet away, was another Operator who Percy recognized as the TL for Charlie Team, Jin.

"Jin! We need to push further up! Talk to the cavalry and get them to-"

Percy cut himself off when a burst of heavy machine gun fire struck Jin. The first few bullets hit him in the head, killing him instantly. The rest of the burst traveled down to his midsection and hit him so hard, and with so many bullets, that he was actually cut in half at the waist. His bottom half slumped and fell backwards, while his top half fell forwards.

Percy stared at the grotesque sight for a second before blinking hard, swallowing uncomfortably, and composing himself.

There was no way to get his radio to work through the water shields he had placed around everyone. He needed to get a message to the cavalry, so he would have to deliver it in person. Percy took a deep breath, and then broke from cover, sprinting as best as he could across the incredibly steep terrain. He was only out of cover for around 20 seconds before he crouched behind another rock next to Plean, but it had felt like so much longer.

"Listen," Percy said, as soon as he was with Plean, "There's no way we can be effective at this kind of range. We need to push up the mountain and get closer to them. I'm going to run down and try to get the cavalry to push up ahead of us so we can use them as cover. Sound good?"

Plean gave him a quick nod without looking, still shooting up the mountain, hoping to keep the entrenched enemies' heads down to make them less accurate.

With another deep breath, Percy broke cover again, heading almost directly downhill. Percy was a tall guy, and he had no desire to poke his head up whatsoever, so he sat on his ass and shuffled down the mountain with his knees. It was far from dignified, but it was quick and about as safe as it got, so that was what he was doing.

It took a few minutes, but Percy managed to reach one of the tanks. He hopped up onto the body and maneuvered himself so he was laying down and opened the hatch, keeping his head out of the view of anyone inside.

"Blue! Blue!" he shouted as he opened the hatch.

Only now, did he look inside, to see a 2-man team in the cramped inner space. One driver, and one shooter. He saw that the one driving, was holstering a pistol. Clearly, he'd been ready to shoot Percy, if he had turned out to be an enemy soldier.

"Listen! You guys need to get on your radio, and make contact with the rest of the cavalry. You all need to form up and push up the mountain. There's no way we can take them out at this kind of distance. We'll use you as cover as you push ahead. They only seem to be shooting small arms, so you should be ok."

The duo nodded and saluted crisply. Percy backed up a bit and shut the hatch, resisting the eye roll at the salute. He climbed off the tank and climbed back up the mountain to where Plean was. Because he was still reluctant to rear his head up, he scampered up on all fours. Still not dignified, but it got the job done.

"Alright, the cavalry are on board!" Percy told Plean, as he joined him in shooting blindly up the side of the mountain, "You tell everyone the plan?"

"It's being disseminated," Plean replied casually as he shot upwards, "You know, there's a silver lining to this."

"Yep. We're on the right mountain."

"Damn right, we are."

Percy turned his head to look at Plean, a reply on his lips, when he felt a horrible pressure on the side of his face. A second later, he heard the sound of a loud crack, followed by a dull thud. Another second passed, Percy feeling deeply confused.

Then he felt something warm trickling down his chin. His lips parted and he felt something solid pass between his lips, followed by many more of the same thing. Looking down, he saw they were his teeth. But that was impossible. His teeth were in his mouth, weren't they? He sent his tongue to feel for them, when he suddenly realized that it wasn't listening to him. Which he found strange, because it was his tongue. If it didn't listen to him, who did it listen to? It would be weird to have his tongue obeying someone else's orders.

A random glance to his left, revealed his tongue lying in the dirt a few feet beside him, along with what looked like a dozen teeth and a cup's worth of blood. Finally, he brought his fingers up to his face, and felt along both his cheeks. There was a small, neat hole in the middle of his right cheek, and a huge, ugly gape in his left.

The pain hit him all at once, like a freight train out of nowhere.

He'd been shot in the fucking face.

Percy's knees gave out, and he collapsed, rolling a few feet down until he was stopped by slamming into a try that was in his way He was lying on his back, staring up at the night sky, light up before him with his night vision. Instinctively, he rolled onto his stomach, so that his blood didn't pour down his throat and into his lungs. As a son of Poseidon, he could breathe in water, but he was pretty sure blood was too thick for his powers to breathe through. A son of Poseidon drowning was bad enough, but drowning in their own blood? That would be way too embarrassing.

When the bullet had torn through his mouth, it had made his teeth explode, and there were about a thousand small cuts in the sensitive flesh of the inside of his mouth. They were pouring freely with blood, and unless he spat it all out, it was going to build up.

He wasn't sure how long he laid there on his stomach, trying to spit out as much blood as he could. The pain was making him throw up, and the stomach acid in his vomit was making all the open wounds in his mouth sting like hell, and made him moan pitifully.

Suddenly, there was a hand on his shoulder, pulling him around the tree, and then pushing him against the other side of it, so he was sitting with his back against the log, facing down the mountain. It was Plean. And he was holding a syringe in his hand.

"Jackson, I'm gonna give you a painkiller, ok? It's gonna make you feel better until we can get you a medevac."

Percy shook his head firmly, sending blood spattering out from the two wounds in his cheeks. Plean's brow furrowed.

"It's a painkiller, alright? It's gonna be good, I promise."

He must have thought Percy was confused. Percy wanted to tell him what was really going on, but with his tongue separated from the rest of him, and his teeth and lips shattered and blown apart, there was no chance of coherent speech.

Plean moved in with the needle, and Percy slapped his hand away. Then he grabbed his rifle, slung across his chest, and gripped it firmly, holding it up to Plean as if it were evidence of something.

Plean's eyes went wide as he realized what Percy meant.

"You want to fight?" he asked incredulously.

Percy had to close his eyes against the pain, which was getting worse and worse, but he managed to nod his head.

"Shit, Jackson, you're fucking hardcore, I'll give you that."

And then he was gone. He'd returned to his previous position, and continued returning fire. Percy kept shooting up at the enemy, but he was almost positive that he hadn't even come close to hitting anything. The pain was extremely sharp. He'd had all kinds of injuries over the years, and he was always able to block out the pain to some degree. But there was something about the wound being inside his mouth, that was really messing him up. Maybe it was the small, but extremely sharp fragments of his teeth that were digging into his gums and the roof of his mouth. Maybe it was what was left of his tongue jamming itself upwards and hitting his uvula, making him gag. But no matter how hard he tried to focus on the present situation, he just couldn't ignore the pain.

Thankfully, his earlier conversation with the tank drivers had bore fruit. It took a few minutes for everyone to get in position but eventually, the tanks managed to organize themselves into a kind of chain. They were spaced out, from let to right, with a gap of about 12 feet between each one. Once they were in formation, they started advancing. Anyone who hadn't quite caught what the plan was, understood. All the Jumpers and Operators took up positions directly behind the tanks, some even lying prone on top of them.

The issue was that there were 24 tanks, and 426 soldiers, minus those that had been killed or wounded. Tanks were big, but not that big. They weren't enough cover. The Operators came to an unspoken agreement that they would let the Jumpers get first priority, and they themselves would hang back a bit, dashing from cover to cover. It was a worse time, but they were better equipped to handle it.

It didn't take long to close the distance. The tanks were blasting away as they pushed forwards, which made the enemy combatants think twice before continuing their firing campaign. They were still shooting, but a lot less.

Once they were close enough, the Operators split up and leapfrogged the cavalry and Jumpers on either side, moving stealthily, and putting themselves much closer to the enemy. Once they had line of sight, the Operators opened fire. It didn't take long after that.

Once that position had been cleared, they started taking fire from a group of fortified bunkers that had been built directly into the mountain. Shooting from little holes carved out of the forward-facing wall, the enemy was unloading on them with more machine guns, and even a few rockets. This gave the tanks pause, as they were quite vulnerable to the explosives.

The Operators understood that if they wanted to keep their tanks for the rest of the mission, they'd have to clear those bunkers. Without a word to each other, they charged them. Percy ended up barreling into a bunker on his own, as they'd been too hasty to arrange any kind of teams. The 8 enemy soldiers inside looked supremely shocked to see him, and he supposed he could understand their stunned silence. 6'7, 300 pounds, covered in combat gear and his own blood, which was dripping from his mouth like drool from a rabies patient. Percy capitalized on their shock. As one of them started to raise his rifle towards Percy, he charged forwards, letting his own rifle drop on its sling, and bringing out his handgun. Once he was close enough, he grabbed the barrel of the enemy's rifle and angled it away from himself before jamming his pistol under the guy's chin and blowing his head off. In a flurry of violent kicks, savage elbows, and loud bangs from his pistol, he killed the rest of them. Once they were dead, he took out a chemlight from his chest rig, cracked it, and placed it in one of the holes they'd been shooting out of.

The chemlights didn't glow visibly to the naked eye. Or at least, not to most peoples' naked eye. Chaos' Army soldiers could see light on the infrared spectrum as part of their third blessing which gave them night vision. The chemlight, glowing like a beacon to those with the capability to see it, told the Jumpers and cavalry that this bunker had been cleared, and not to waste their time shooting at it.

Once the rest of the bunkers were cleared, the attacking force consolidated their position. They took whatever weapons and ammo they needed from the dead enemy and their bunkers. Especially the explosives. Once they were ready, they explored the area for anything that looked like an entrance. They suspected that the entrance to the facility proper, was somewhere nearby, as there was no way they'd put this much fortification on some random part of the mountain. This had to be where their hideyhole was stashed away.

An Operator found what looked like the entrance of a cave, except it was too symmetrical to be wholly natural. A small team of Operators went down to check it out. 10 minutes later, they reappeared, and confirmed this was the entrance to the facility.

That presented a slight issue. They hadn't been sure what the entrance would look like, but Percy had been crossing his fingers that whatever it was, when they found it, it would be big enough for the tanks to roll through so that they could make use of them on the other side. The tunnel entrance was roughly a third of the size of a single tank. No way in hell.

With a reluctant sigh and a - silent, in Percy's case - complaining muttering, the Jumpers and Operators started splitting into groups. The passageway was narrow, and there could only be 3, or maybe 4 but only just, people in there side by side. That was why they had to organize into rows, so that they could put their best shooters right at the front, where they could be the most effective.

The first row had Plean in the middle, with Iolk to his left, and Nami on his right. Then there was Vazy and Mittlo, who were the biggest of the Dead Men by far, were side by side, and there was no room for anyone else to stand next to them.

Then was Sara, Percy standing to her left, and Pricela standing to her right. Right behind Pricela, was Moril, with his rifle trained over her shoulder.

As they were organizing themselves into groups, and Sara sidled up to Percy with a smug grin on her face and a witty comment on her lips, she caught sight of the devastation that had once been his face, and audibly gasped. It was a testament to how much pain he was in, that he didn't even comment on her reaction.

"What the fuck?" she demanded.

Percy, still unable to speak, mimed a gun with his hand, and pantomimed being shot in the face. Her eyes widened, and she forced her hand under his chin to leverage his face upwards, so that she could examine the wound.

"Open your mouth," she ordered.

Upon hearing her tone, he decided to comply promptly. For whatever reason, she didn't seem in the mood to joke around. He opened her mouth, and she took a quick look, manipulating his head upwards and downwards for better angles.

"Alright, it looks like you're going to be fine," she said reluctantly, as if afraid that drawing such a conclusion at the moment, would be tempting fate, "But look, you should sit this out. You must be in a lot of pain right now. We've got this. Just take a painkiller and a sedative and wait until we get you a medevac."

Percy shook his head firmly, and showed her his rifle, still clutched in his hands. Her brow furrowed in bewilderment, and then she shook her head in exasperation.

"You cannot possibly be serious right now."

Percy shrugged in a 'it is what it is' gesture.

Sara rolled her eyes at him and looked like she was going to continue the argument, but then sighed a second later as her shoulders slumped.

"Ok, fine, just stay near me, alright? I want you where I can keep an eye on you."

He offered her a mock salute and she groaned as if she was the one who'd been shot.

They took their positions and readied themselves for what was about to happen. They had no information whatsoever on what was lying before them. They were walking into the lion's den, completely blind. But this was what they were trained to do. In a sense, this was what they were born to do. Percy knew that despite the incredible danger they were all in, not a single one of those Operators leading the Jumpers into battle, would rather be anywhere else. Himself included.

The adrenaline rush that came over a person when they knew they were about to fight for their lives, was an intense feeling that nothing else could ever replicate or simulate. There was simply nothing like it. Everything else was suddenly muted. Whatever may have been on his mind right before, was gone. It allowed him to focus on what truly mattered. And until the mission was over, what truly mattered was accomplishing his objective, keeping his team alive, and keeping himself alive, in that order.

Once everyone was in position, they started forwards down the tunnel. It went for ages, and remained narrow and cramped. It was moist too, but with Percy there, that was more of a help than a hindrance. He drew in what he could and used it to keep his mouth clean, and even heal the wound a little bit. But there was a limit to the healing factor that resulted from his demigod abilities, so it remained excruciatingly painful and distracting.

After an entire mile of slogging through the tunnel, Plean raised a hand in a 'stop' gesture, and the entire procession came to a halt. They stood perfectly still for several minutes, and Percy started to get a little concerned. They'd had to step over several trip wires and various other traps already, and the thought of a sudden explosion going off, was making his stomach clench in anxiety. It was like dying in a helicopter crash. Nothing to do. Alive one moment, and gone the next.

Plean looked over his shoulder, and curled his hand into a circle. 'O' for 'Objective'. They were where they needed to be. The tunnel was about to open up into the facility proper, and the real fight was going to begin in moments.

Percy had a fresh magazine in his rifle, and started focusing on taking deep breaths. He just needed to make it through the initial contact, and then clear the facility. After that, it was just a matter of finding the generator, and sticking explosives to it. Then they'd get clear and blow the fucking thing to Hades. Job done. Theoretically, they'd be able to shadow travel right back to one of the Chaos' Army bases. Then he could take a painkiller and pass out, while a group of medics pulled shards of tooth shrapnel out of his mouth.

Was it messed up how relaxing that sounded to him? Gods, it probably was. But beggars couldn't be choosers. He would take whatever relaxation he could get, in whatever form it took.

Plean rigged the entrance with a breaching charge, which was what they called an explosive device that was designed to blow through a door or an exterior wall, so that Operators could get into whatever place they were trying to get into. He, and therefore, the entire procession, backed up a few paces, and Percy drew some moisture from the air to create an airtight barrier between them and the explosive.

Plean detonated it, and even though none of them heard the blast, those in front could see it through the water, and everyone could feel the vibrations in the floor. Without wasting even a fraction of a second, Percy dropped the water shield as soon as the overpressure evened out. Also without wasting a fraction of a second, Plean, Iolk, and Nami dashed forwards so fast they looked like nothing more than a blur, weapons raised, and flooded into the facility. Vazy and Mittlo were hot on their heels, and Percy, Pricela, and Sara right after them.

The facility was brightly lit, which was the first thing Percy noticed. Order's forces didn't have night vision as a part of one of their blessings from their chosen deity, so they had to keep lights on, or use night vision goggles when they wanted to see in the dark. Within the facility, there were incredibly bright lights hanging from the ceiling, and fixed to the walls.

The second thing Percy noticed, was that it was an incredibly large and open space. There simply wasn't much going on in there. There were desks and chairs up against the walls, support beams spaced generously, and stairs leading downwards.

The third thing Percy noticed, was the enemy soldiers. They seemed slightly stunned by the explosive charge they had used to enter, which gave the Operators a momentary advantage. A momentary advantage that Iolk, Plean, Nami, Vazy, and Mittlo were already taking full advantage of, so Percy figured he should join them.

Shooting as he moved for cover behind one of the yet unoccupied support beams, Percy managed to hit 7 enemy soldiers, but wasn't sure if he'd put any of them down permanently. And even if he had, there were dozens of the fuckers in the large open space, taking whatever cover they could find, laying prone on the ground, or just standing out in the open, hoping for the best.

Percy made an executive decision, and introduced explosives into the fight. He took a grenade off his combat webbing, tore out the pin and cooked it off for a second before hurling it into the mass of enemy soldiers. That did some pretty decent damage.

The main thing that Percy couldn't help but be amazed by, was the sheer destructive power of 24 Spec Ops Operators. Their numbers had decreased noticeably since the beginning of the mission; having started with 33, lost 7 in the helicopter crashes; and then 2 more when Jin had been killed and an Operator from Alpha Team having been wounded too severely to continue with the mission.

But the 24 Operators left in the fight, were a sight to behold.

During OTC, they had done a mixture of solo and group training. They worked as teams and as individuals, learning how to do CQB, combat patrols, sniping and reconnaissance and so on, either way. But even when they worked in teams, the teams were never particularly large. Percy only ever trained with Pricela, Moril, and - when he'd still had a in hell of becoming an Operator - Sengari. That made for a team of 4, which was noticeably different than a team of 24.

And yet, somehow, Percy knew exactly what he had to do, and exactly what everyone around him was doing. It wasn't anything he could put into words. There was no thought process or rationale behind his awareness of his teammates actions or intentions. He simply knew. It was as if they'd been working as a 24-person unit for centuries. It was like they were a hive mind. A single organism, made up of smaller individual parts, all doing their job to achieve the same objective, with total certainty that every other part was doing their own job.

From the moment they had entered the facility, their unspoken leader, Plean, hadn't felt the need to issue a single order. He directed no troops, for they were already on their way by the time he would have managed to get the words out. He didn't direct fire towards any particular targets, as they were already being shot at by the time he would have felt the need to call attention to them. It was something truly beautiful.

Aside from their flawless teamwork, the thing Percy was most impressed by was the effect they were having on the target. The Operators flowed through the facility like a biblical plague. There was nothing capable of stopping them, and anything that even attempted to, was brought a swift and violent end. They were moving so fast that when the Jumpers finally made it into the facility behind them, they had to run flat out to try and keep up with them. And even still, they were too far behind to be able to participate in the fight.

The Operators were ruthless. As far as they were concerned, there was no reason for any civilians to be on target at all, so there was no need for restraint. Still, they made an effort not to outright kill any scientists or engineers they found, but there weren't many of them. Aside from that, anything they saw, died.

The enemy resistance was more capable than they were expecting, but still not too good. They were decent enough fighters, and their massive numbers coupled with their enhanced physical prowess made them worthy opponents. But they weren't the elites of Order's forces. As important as the generator was, it was still guard duty; and the best were not sent to guard some base. The Operators rolled through them like Celestial Bronze through half-melted butter.

Once they were inside the facility, they didn't take a single casualty. Fighting uphill battles against enemies with superior firepower wasn't exactly a specialty of Spec Ops Operators, but close quarters fighting like this? This was their bread and butter. There wasn't a single unit in the Universe that was capable of surpassing them in that regard. Not with the centuries of training and experience each and every Operator brought to the table.

The battle lasted somewhere in the region of 2 hours and by the end, the 24 Operators had thoroughly decimated the roughly 6000 enemy guards and the engineers and scientists had either been taken captive or managed to teleport away before capture. The Jumpers had helped, mostly by maintaining rear security and making sure the Operators weren't flanked from behind. Their biggest contribution had been when they'd been outside, fighting their way up the mountain. Everyone had known going in, that once the mission moved indoors, the Operators were the stars of the show. Once the combat was finished, the Operators switched their attention to the generator, while the Jumpers held security. If Order's forces teleported in with serious numbers, the Jumpers were the first line of defense.

The generator was a massive thing. The size of a 3-story building, and about as wide, made of tough-looking metal and housing more delicate electronics inside. The top seemed to turn upwards at the rim, making it look like a bowl facing the sky. There was a translucent energy pushing upwards out of the bowl, before seeming to dissipate. The entire machine seemed to hum with energy.

So, this was it? This was the machine that had led to the deaths of countless Chaos' Army soldiers? Ok. Time to annihilate it.

The Operators unslung their backpacks and took out the explosives they'd had stashed inside. Each explosive was about the size of a diner plate, but much thicker. Like a weight plate a powerlifter might stack on a bench press bar, only even heavier. Each explosive weighed around 120 pounds. One side had tape covering a strong adhesive, with a big and obvious pull tab at the side. The adhesive was so strong that if he accidentally stuck it to himself, it wouldn't be removed for hours. The only reason the tape was able to come off was because it was coated in a kind of special oil that made it incredibly difficult to stick to anything.

Once it was affixed to whatever was supposed to be blown up, the Operator had to go through a relatively long and complex arming sequence. Because the explosives were incredibly powerful, they had to be sure they wouldn't go off by accident, or when shot. So they were designed in such a way that they were completely and utterly safe right up until the point when they were armed. An Operator could throw them down the stairs, shoot them, set them on fire, and even blow them up and they would remain completely safe unless they'd been armed.

There were 24 Operators carrying 1 explosive each. Each bomb would detonate with the force of half a kiloton of TNT, making for an explosion with the equivalent force of 12 thousand tons of TNT. By comparison, the nuclear bomb dropped on Hiroshima at the end of WW2, exploded with the force of 15 kilotons of TNT and was 10 feet long, weighing 9,700 pounds. So, for the size and portability of the Chaos' Army explosives, they were pretty damn good. And the fact that they had 24 of them didn't hurt.

Percy was about to start affixing his bomb, when Pricela sidled up next to him.

"Give me yours; I'll take care of it. You need to take a minute."

He'd been expecting something like that from either her, Moril, or Sara, but what he hadn't expected, was the tone of delivery. She wasn't making an offer or a suggestion. She was delivering an order. A command. A decree.

Percy tilted his head and attempted a glare, but it might have been undermined by the small river of blood that poured out of his cheek by the new angle of his head.

Pricela returned his glare with one of her own, and her uninjured face was very persuasive.

In the end, he decided to give it up and hand her his backpack. Now that the fighting was over, the adrenaline was wearing off and the pain was only getting worse.

After handing over his backpack, he grabbed his rifle and walked over to the nearest group of Jumpers pulling security.

"Sweet Chaos, what the fuck happened to your face?" one of the Jumpers demanded with wide eyes when he caught sight of Percy.

Percy gave the guy a flat stare which made him shuffle uncomfortably.

"I mean… uh… how can I help you, sir?"

Percy's tongue still hadn't grown back, so he wasn't capable of speaking yet. Instead he just pantomimed a few questions about their positions, and they answered as best as they could. He left them once he had the answers he wanted, and followed their directions to find Hazel a few minutes later. She and a few other Jumpers were crouched behind some overturned desks that seemed to be made of some kind of incredibly sturdy metal. She was completely focused outwards, so when Percy approached her from behind and put a hand on her shoulder, she jumped about a foot up into the air. She and the Jumpers with her brought their weapons around to bear, and immediately moved them away again when they recognised Percy.

"Percy? What the fuck happened?" Hazel asked, in total shock.

Percy sighed, and pantomimed being shot in the face. Then he made a "but that doesn't matter" gesture. He gestured to the group, the tables they were taking cover behind, and their angles of fire on any potential incoming enemies. Then made a thumbs up gesture, with a questioning look on his face. Hazel, thankfully, understood.

"Yeah, we're all good here. We're thinking that if they do teleport more in, they'll start outside, so they can attack without risking being immediately surrounded. If they do that, then they'll have to come through this hallway, so we've turned it into a killbox."

Percy nodded, appreciating the rationale. He also respected her conviction that they had formed a killbox. A killbox, was a term used for when a defending force knew their opposition would have to funnel themselves through a certain point, and turned that point into a zone where there was nothing but death. In Hazel and her colleagues' case, they had accomplished this using the layout of the enemy's own fortress, along with some astute predictions about their likely behavior. They had taken care of the killing aspect, by implementing two Light Machine Guns, LMGs, resting on bipods, which themselves were resting on the upturned tables.

An LMG was almost like a cheat code. It was an incredibly powerful and robust piece of equipment designed for one purpose and one purpose only. To completely destroy anything unfortunate enough to be in front of it when the trigger was pulled. The ones that Hazel and the other Jumpers were using, were designed by Chaos' Corps of Engineers, and they elevated the concept of lethality to a whole new level. Percy had used LMGs plenty of times during OTC, and he liked them a lot. They were big and heavy and slightly awkward, but there was little that could rival the sheer destructive power. He wasn't sure how exactly they worked on Earth, but the ones used by Chaos' Army were fitted with a box magazine that carried 200 rounds. When fired on fully automatic, the CA LMG could shoot at over 1200 rounds per minute, each of them flying at an enemy at 5392 feet per second.

In short, with 2 of them pointed at a hallway, anything that came at them would be pulverized damn near immediately.

Satisfied that Hazel was about as safe as she could get, given the circumstances, Percy simply nodded his goodbye to the group, squeezed Hazel on the shoulder, and then returned to his fellow Operators by the generator, waiting for them to finish their work.

He sat down behind a piece of cover big enough to hide his entire body, but only barely. That was the downside to being a big guy. Even when reduced to his minimum height of 6'3, he was bigger than most Spec Ops Operators by a noticeable margin. Special Operations soldiers in Chaos' Army, on Earth, and on just about every other planet Percy had been to, tended to be smaller, whippier guys. Given their mission sets, Percy could see why. A Spec Ops Operator didn't need to be a bodybuilder. The ability to deadlift 600 pounds rarely came up as a necessity, in the Operational world. But what did come up often? The need to move very quickly, across a very long distance, on foot, with significant weight on your back. The bodybuilding types start an objective like that with a handicap built in. They weighed more than their smaller counterparts, and that was just more weight for their legs to drag around. There were, of course, plenty of big guys in Special Operations, but they were the exceptions rather than the rule.

Percy, sitting behind an errant scrap of metal that had been blown off the wall by a grenade during the initial storming of the facility, had to curl his body uncomfortably just to try to fit behind it. He kept his eyes peeled, just in case something happened, but he wasn't expecting anything. Despite still technically being operational, Percy's body was starting to succumb to the exhaustion he'd been putting off. Between the mental exhaustion of using his powers to protect everyone from the temperature swings, the physical difficulty of the mission, and the agony of the bullet wound in his face, Percy could comfortably say that he would benefit from a nap.

But the last nap time he'd had, was in preschool, so he was just going to have to tough it out. The Operators were almost done with the explosives, and there was still no sign of enemy contact. The higher ups in Order's forces were probably reluctant to send any more soldiers into the fray. After the Operators had wiped out the guards stationed there, they probably saw it as sending their people straight into the jaws of a megalodon. In fairness to them, that wasn't entirely inaccurate.

5 minutes later, the explosives were all set. The Operators formed up, and the Jumpers followed them out of the facility, where they met back up with the tanks. Those who were injured climbed on to the tanks and got as comfortable as it was possible to get on a giant hunk of metal that weighed more than 2 dozen tons, and they all made their way down the mountain.

Once they reached the base of the mountain, the entire procession stopped. Plean grabbed the remote detonator for the explosives from his belt, held it in his hand for a second, and then looked at the group gathered around. With a look that said 'Well, fuck it, I guess' he clacked it off. For a split second, nothing happened. Percy wondered if the material the fortress was constructed from was somehow preventing radio signals from getting through.

And then he heard it.

And felt it.

And even saw it.

It looked like God had decided he didn't actually like that mountain very much after all, and pressed the delete button. An explosion with the equivalent force of 12 kilotons of TNT, was a sight not many people would ever get to experience. But Percy was one of the few, and he would never forget it.

If not for the incredibly tough construction of the fortress the explosives were housed inside, Percy, his fellow Operators, the Jumpers, and the tanks would all have been incinerated, along with everything else within a kilometer radius. As it was, the entire mountain erupted like a volcano. First, the top blew off and an amazing fireball flew out and up towards the sky. And then the entire mountain seemed to crumble in on itself. Building the facility had meant hollowing out a very large portion of the mountain, and creating all sorts of support beams and load bearing crap that would have allowed it to keep its shape. Percy found himself, for the trillionth time, wishing Annabeth was there with him. She'd have been able to explain exactly what had happened, and why, and what could have been done differently, and a hundred other things on top of that.

The force of the explosion was such that Percy and everyone else were showered with dirt and small rocks sent flying. A small rock flicked off the edge of the bullet wound in his right cheek, as if it had been locked onto it by a heat seeking missile. It hurt a lot, but he was so stunned by what he had just witnessed, that he didn't say anything.

The explosion had been accompanied by an enormous noise, that sounded like thunder so intense, Zeus would have blushed at it. But once it died away, after echoing off the other mountains in the region for a few seconds, there was pure silence.

Plean broke it a few seconds later, by clearing his throat.

"Well, uh, you guys feel your powers too?"

Percy blinked, and suddenly remembered why they had just done all of that. Sure enough, he could feel his powers right there. It felt comforting to have them again. Like an old friend, who was always by your side, had just gotten out of prison, and you were hugging each other for the first time in a year.

The entire group nodded dumbly, though Percy was the only one who did so because he had no alternative.

They decided that those who were wounded, would shadow travel back to the Infantry Camp they had deployed from, along with all of the Jumpers except 20. They, along with half the Operators, would accompany the tanks back to their base, just in case they were attacked. Tanks were damn fine weapons, but soldiers on foot were far more maneuverable, and could give the giant machines the time they needed to obliterate whatever had dared challenge them.

Percy was one of those told to shadow travel back to base, even though he protested. Pricela and Moril came with him, which was something at least. It felt good to shadow travel again. He never thought he would miss that sensation. The on-base medics saw his face, did a double take, and then snapped into professional mode and started treating him. They stitched the wounds closed, and rinsed his mouth with something like extra-strength mouthwash, which would kill anything in his mouth that would impede his natural regeneration. After that, there was really nothing to do, but give him a painkiller and order him to rest. Having completed his mission, Percy finally allowed sleep to claim him. He fell asleep with a smile of deep satisfaction on his face.

—-

After the success of the mission to destroy the generator, Percy and everyone else involved with the Operation got a few days of rest before being sent back into the fray. But now that they had their shadow powers back, the fight was on a much more even playing field. Being able to command the shadows was a tactical advantage with numerous applications, and the Operators and Infantry soldiers were smart enough to use just about every one to their advantage. While Order's forces were still able to teleport, had far more raw power than Chaos' Army, and were equipped with deadlier weapons capable of penetrating Chaos' Army armor, they had tipped their hand. Now that they were aware of all that, it was much easier to counter.

Within a few months of the generator going down, the conflict on Lomik was winding down. Because of that, the most critical units were being sent away to other hot zones, where they could be more effective. The Infantry was more than capable of finishing the fight on their own.

After Lomik, Percy was sent to a few places, and did a few things. None of it was particularly noteworthy. Even though the place itself was different from Lomik, it was fundamentally the same. The mission was the same, the people were the same, and above all else, the violence was the same. The particulars changed, sure. Lomik had been a planet of deserts and sand dunes. On other planets, Percy operated in jungles, and woods, and mountains, and all kinds of other terrain. But he was basically doing the same thing, just in a different way.

One day, he'd just finished a deep patrol in the jungle on a planet called Eckto; a name that often made him giggle. But the work was anything but giggle-worthy. Terrorists had been striking civilian convoys, killing the men, raping and mutilating the women, and stealing the supplies. Once they'd plied their evil trade, they'd run into the jungle and hide there until it was time to do it again. In response, Percy, Pricela, and Moril, still allowed to work together as a team wherever they went, were sent to Eckto along with a few other Operators, to hunt down the terrorists. It had nothing to do with the war against Order, but it was still a job Percy and the others threw themselves into with a passion. Talking to the surviving victims of the attacks, mostly women who'd been raped, mutilated, and left to bleed out, had spurred them on to hunt down the fuckers that did it, and put an end to their existence.

Sometimes, the jobs they did could lead to long hours of introspection, focusing on questions of morality, and the nature of right and wrong. 'Was it ok, that I just did that? Could it have been avoided? Maybe I could have spared some of them? Maybe they weren't all evil?'. This was not such a job. They'd hunt down the terrorists, slaughter them like animals, and then dance on their graves. There would be no difficult questions after this one.

But actually finding them was easier said than done. The jungle they were hiding in was roughly the size of the continental United States, and the terrorists happened to be a part of a species that was able to make themselves virtually undetectable to the Operators' enhanced senses. This would ordinarily be no big deal. It was simply a matter of going out and looking for them. But the environment itself, the jungle, made things about a hundred times harder.

First, the temperature was insufferable. It was some truly grim stuff. And it was only made worse by the humidity. Every breath felt like the oxygen had been ripped from it, before it ever neared his lungs. A few of the guys actually came down with heatstroke, needing to stop their mission and rest in the shade for a few hours.

Then, there were all the things that were trying to kill them. The basic rule for Operating in the jungle, as Percy had been told by an older Operator with some experience, was that you had to assume that anything in there, was going to try to kill you at some point or another. Percy had assumed this was hyperbole at first, but upon arriving in the jungle, he'd realized the accuracy and honesty behind the words. One day, less than a week into the mission, Percy had stumbled over a knot of wood that had been hidden by the lush vegetation. As he'd stumbled, Percy had reached out a hand to steady himself, and impaled himself through the palm on something very long and sharp. More bewildered than anything else, Percy had looked to see what had just stabbed him, and saw that it was a tree. A fucking tree.

"Oh, yeah, you gotta watch out for those. Hedgehog trees, we call them. Basic rule of the jungle: if you trip, never reach out to steady yourself. One of those fuckers will appear out of nowhere," said the same Operator who'd given Percy the first warning about the jungle.

Aside from the plants, there were plenty of creatures residing in the jungle that wanted nothing more than to feast upon flesh. They were revolting little things. Percy had once come back from a very long patrol, to the little village they had constructed to serve as their HQ, and undressed himself. Upon stripping the grimy, smelly, disgusting clothes from his body, he'd found nearly two dozen leeches that had made themselves at home all over his body.

To go along with all the smaller stuff, like the aforementioned leeches, and the fleas, and so on, there was also plenty of big stuff that wanted them dead. There were snakes longer than the route Percy had taken to get to school when he'd been younger, and spiders bigger than wedding cakes. And they were still just considered mid-size. On the larger end of the spectrum, were enormous apes, and hippos, and things of that nature. Percy had even seen something resembling a rhino once.

The worst aspect of living in the jungle for months on end, was that you could never feel safe in there. It always felt like there was something watching you. That's because there often was. There were many creatures in the jungle that had lived there for hundreds of thousands of years, and had done so by being stealthy, as to avoid being eaten by something else. Those things took careful note of anything and everything that did not belong in their jungle. Percy and his fellow Operators, certainly qualified. Whenever he fell asleep, Percy could feel creatures in the trees above him, watching him the entire time. It was as if they were trying to decide if he was worth the effort of killing and eating. Percy had taken to never leaving his assault rifle beyond arm's reach.

No, they could never feel safe in the jungle. But the Operators did their best to make themselves comfortable. After the first three days of work, they'd stumbled across a decent-sized clearing. They'd decided to make it their temporary HQ. That was where their patrols began from, and ended. They cut down trees and used the wood to erect small structures, which served as their TOC, where they kept all their maps and files, and planned their patrols, as well as rudimentary bathrooms, storage huts, and sleeping quarters.

Inside the sleeping quarters, were a series of hammocks, that had been created by fastening small parts of rope to either wall. Another basic rule of the jungle, Percy had been told, was to always sleep several feet above the ground. You never knew what might crawl into bed with you as you slept. According to one of the more experienced Operators, one man had once gone to sleep in a sleeping bag on the jungle floor, and woken up with 3 snakes wrapped tight around his body, constricting his breathing. There was also a spider the size of a baseball catcher's mitt on his face. Not pleasant. For similar reasons, the Operators now rested their boots on long sticks, standing upright in the ground, so as to avoid anything unwanted crawling inside and making itself at home.

If not for having heard the surviving victims of the attacks talking about what had happened to them, Percy might have up and quit. It was utterly miserable work. There was no fun in it. There was not one single ray of sunshine that made the whole thing easy to laugh at. It was just pure brutality. But it needed to be done, and no one else was about to volunteer. So, Percy and his comrades resolved to get the job done, and try their best to keep the complaining down to a minimum. Just how successful they were about the complaining, was another matter entirely, but the important part was that they were getting the job done.

Percy spent a total of three months in the jungle, hating every moment, before he was suddenly called away. He'd just come back to their little village after a brutal patrol through the rough jungle, to find someone he didn't recognize standing in their camp, right next to another Operator. This was fairly unusual. A big part of Operating in the jungle was that the team in there was isolated. There were no visitors of any kind. Any request the Operators had, was put through the radio, and their supplies were airdropped to them. It was simply easier that way. Navigating through the jungle was difficult enough on its own, but finding the Operators' camp, which they had built to be damn near un-findeable was a whole other story.

Adding to his confusion, was the physical appearance of the man. He was soft. It was difficult to put into words, but soldiers who typically spent their time on the front lines, or indeed behind enemy lines like Operators, just looked harder. Even if they'd let themselves go in recent years, and put on a few pounds, they still felt tough as nails. Likewise, soldiers, officers mainly, who typically spent their time behind a desk, or sitting in a TOC somewhere, felt soft. The man before him, was a fine example of the soft variety. He was pudgy and out of shape. He was standing ramrod straight, like people who thought they were important did. But it was a single look at the man's hands that sealed the deal for Percy. They were uncalloused and soft. There was no dirt under the perfectly manicured nails. No old scars on the knuckles. This was a desk jockey.

"Who's this?" he asked, grumpily.

His manners had fled him somewhere around the halfway mark of the patrol.

The unfamiliar man bristled at what Percy had said, which told him he wasn't Spec Ops, even as an officer. A fellow Spec Ops soldier, be they Operator or officer, would have barked a laugh and told him to go fuck himself.

"My name is -" the unfamiliar man began imperiously. As though he was someone of great importance, and Percy should have been honored to simply be breathing the same air as him.

"Yeah, dickface, I really don't care what your name is. What the hell do you want from us?"

The Operator standing next to the guy, smirked at that. His name was Boont, and he was the one who'd given Percy the advice about the jungle. He was also the leader in all but name, of the mission. He had more experience in the jungle than everyone else on the team put together, so while they were all technically equal, everyone tended to listen to whatever Boont had to say.

The unfamiliar guy, in total contrast to Boont, did not look amused at what Percy had said.

"You've been summoned," he said through gritted teeth.

Percy raised an unimpressed eyebrow. Of course he'd use a word like 'summoned'.

"And who, exactly, has summoned me?" he said, a dangerous edge in his voice.

Percy had never much cared for summons.

"Lady Chaos. She has called for a meeting of her war council."

Percy took a deep breath through the nose, and exhaled softly.

"When?"

"34 hours from now."

Percy felt another surge of rage, which he fought to suppress.

"Well, you'll just have to tell her I can't make it. I don't know if you noticed, but those of use actually fighting this war, are a little busy at the moment."

The unfamiliar man's face colored a little and he opened his mouth to speak, but Boont beat him to the punch.

"Percy, it's all right. You should go to the meeting. We've got things covered here."

Percy fought the feeling of betrayal. He'd already given so much, and put so much blood, sweat, and tears into this operation, and now he was being told to just twaddle off back to Chaos' Realm to let everyone else finish it without him? It was the worst kind of slap in the face. He was eager to get out of the jungle, but not at the cost of leaving the job unfinished. He was too invested. He wanted to find and kill the evil sons of bitches that had terrorized the innocent locals, and he wanted to personally end them. Being told to leave halfway through, was an insult.

"Excuse me?" he demanded.

Boont put his hand up, like he was warding away all of Percy's indignation, and he already knew all about it.

"Look, I know you don't want to leave a job half-finished, and I know you want to put the hurt on these motherfuckers, but you can't just not go to a war council meeting. You need to do this. If for no other reason, than to give them the perspective on the ground. Everyone else in there, is a General. You know what that means; they haven't stepped foot in a real fight in millenia. They don't have a fucking clue. Go and tell them what we need, and then we can see about getting you back here for the grand finale, ok?"

Percy watched Boonk for a few moments, and then felt the anger and irritation dissipate. He'd just said all the right things and completely defused him, like any good leader should be able to.

"Fine. I'll go pack my shit and then we can leave."

The unfamiliar man looked annoyed at being told when they would leave, but said nothing. Maybe because he realized he was currently standing in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by men and women trained to kill in the most brutally efficient ways possible, and who wouldn't spare a single thought about ending his life if he pushed them too far.

Percy went to the shack that housed their sleeping quarters, and made his way over to his hammock, where he kept his things nearby. Already lounging on their own hammocks, on either side of his own, were Pricela and Moril. They'd been out with him on the patrol, and had melted away when he'd gone to talk to the unfamiliar man. Now, they were showered, their uniforms had been taken off, and they were relaxing on their hammocks. They worked fast.

"Who was the asshole?" Pricela asked when Percy walked in.

"As if you weren't listening."

"I wasn't!" she cried, sounding heartbroken that he would ever think such a thing about her.

"Then how do you know he's an asshole?"

"Oh, you could tell by looking at him. Some people just look like assholes, you know?"

"Believe me, I know," Percy said, looking at her pointedly.

"Heyyyy," she whined indignantly.

"What? I meant Moril."

Moril threw his hands up and looked befuddled.

"What the hell did I do?"

"Sorry bud, you just got caught in the crossfire," Percy told him.

Moril slumped, and Pricela reached over to give him a consoling pat on the arm.

"Seriously though, Perce, what did that guy want?"

"Apparently I've been summoned to Chaos' war council."

They both turned to look at him, wide-eyed.

"So, you're leaving? Seriously?"

Percy shrugged helplessly.

"Yeah, I guess. Believe me, I wish I was staying here with you guys. You're much better company than those clowns on the council."

Pricela grinned, but it faded after a few moments.

"Well, we're gonna miss you, Perce. Try and get back soon, ok?"

Percy smiled.

"I'll do my best. You guys just look after each other while I'm gone, ok?"

They both nodded seriously.

Percy emptied the backpack he'd just been carrying on the patrol, and loaded his personal items back into it. He didn't need to bring food, medication, or ammunition with him. He'd leave that stuff for the rest of the team to use as they needed. He'd just take his own clothes, which would fit no one else, and his own personal guns, as everyone else already had their own. He needed nothing else. He had nothing else, really.

With his bag packed, and a final wave to Pricela and Moril, he left their sleeping quarters and found Boont and the unfamiliar man once again.

"Alright, let's move out," Percy said as he joined them.

"Right, yes, I'll shadow travel us there," the unfamiliar man said.

"No," Percy and Boont said immediately.

The unfamiliar man looked startled. Boont decided to merciful enough to elaborate.

"Protocol for Operating within the jungle, is no shadow powers at all. You never know who's watching in here, and we'd rather not tip our hand unless it's absolutely necessary."

"Oh," the unfamiliar man said, now looking around, clearly very confused.

Percy sighed.

"You came in on the main port, right?"

The unfamiliar man nodded.

"Right, follow me then."

Nodding goodbye to Boont, Percy turned on his heel and walked out of the clearing which he had called home for the last 3 months. The unfamiliar man followed behind him.

Navigating in the jungle was extremely difficult. There were virtually no distinguishing features that a person could use to orient themselves, and top-down maps were pretty much useless as the trees blocked everything from view. The only way to figure out which way to go, was to have an idea of an end destination, and use a compass to go in its general direction.

Percy was moving at a comfortable pace, deftly avoiding various plants and logs, while making virtually no sound. He was well and truly used to the jungle, and knew how to get out of its way enough that he could pass through unmolested. But the unfamiliar man? Well, he managed to catch himself on just about every single branch, leaf, and tripping hazard. He looked like he was deeply ill-suited to living life out in the real world, much less the jungle. It was almost comical.

An hour in, Percy spotted a trap left by the terrorists that were hiding in there. It was a rudimentary contraption, but an effective one. A 10-foot hole in the ground, with sharp sticks at the bottom. The top was covered by a thin layer of sticks, which had a smattering of leaves strewn on top. To the untrained eye, it looked just like the rest of the jungle floor, but Percy had spent the last 3 months dodging traps much like that one, so he was used to it.

Without thinking about it, Percy sidestepped and made to continue, when he suddenly remembered that there was someone else with him. Someone who almost certainly hadn't spotted the trap. He looked over his soldier, a warning on his lips, when the unfamiliar man following him started muttering to himself.

"What the fuck kind of savages choose to live in this hellhole? Stupid assholes. Worthless grunt, making me come all the way out here!"

He elected to forget all about the trap. Sure enough, 15 seconds later, Percy heard sticks snapping, and a loud shriek as the unfamiliar man impaled his foot on the spikes at the bottom of the pit.

After taking a second to remove the satisfied smirk from his face, Percy peered down into the pit, to see the unfamiliar man howling in pain, grabbing both his feet, and oddly trying to pull them both off the spikes they'd been impaled on. Apparently, no one had told this asshole that he couldn't actually pull both of his feet upwards at the same time. Predictably, he fell over and impaled his left ass cheek on another spike, which only made him howl harder. Percy had to duck away to resist another wave of giggles.

Eventually, once he was able to compose himself, Percy poked his head back over the side, to look down on the unfamiliar man, who was no just sobbing. Despite his prior amusement, Percy felt a wave of contempt wash over him. He had every advantage it was possible for a mortal being to have. Training from Chaos' Army, Chaos' Blessings, and presumably many thousands of years of experience. And despite all of that, he somehow still managed to be pathetic. Percy himself had fallen victim of such traps on several occasions when he was still getting used to the jungle. Each and every time, he just got up and brushed himself off. It was just a minor stab wound; two minor stab wounds if he was unlucky enough to impale both feet. Hardly a big deal. Between the enhanced durability of Chaos' First Blessing, the healing of Chaos' Second Blessing, and the enormous increase to his pain tolerance that had come from Selection, as well as all the other crap he had been through, a few holes in his feet were hardly a concern. But this asshole who called himself a soldier, had instantly crumbled. The fact that he was so shameless as to think himself above people like Percy and his team, was just embarrassing.

"You alright down there?" Percy asked, in what he called his Instructor voice.

His instructor voice was modelled after the tone the Instructors had taken with him during Second Phase of Selection. The tone that gave away no semblance of emotion of care. Just utter indifference. Like the person he was speaking to could either win the lottery and mary a supermodel, or drown in his own piss, and Percy would remain utterly unnafected either way.

The man looked up, tears in his eyes and streaming down his cheeks. Percy resisted the snarl that was threatening to make its way onto his face, and kept his expression passive. The man reached an arm up and made a grabbing motion.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you want me to do."

The man intensified his grabbing-mime act.

"Mmmmm, no, still not getting it. You see, I'm just a worthless grunt. I can't make heads or tails of this high-minded jazz you important types speak in. I'm gonna need some clear instructions from you, ok? Verbal ones."

The man went tomato-red with fury, and Percy just stared back vacantly. The man took several very deep breaths.

"Pull. Me. UP!" he snarled through clenched teeth.

Percy scratched the side of his head, and and bit his tongue, doing his very best to look stupid.

"But… how? This stuff may be simple to you upper echelon officers, but remember, I'm just a worthless grunt. You're going to need to explain this to me in detail. Small words too, ok?"

"Soldier, I am ordering you to pull me up immediately!"

Percy just stared at him and said nothing.

The man howled with rage and started fidgeting on his spikes, which only made things worse for him. Percy continued staring.

"Ok… take my hand in your hand, and pull me upwards and out of this hole," the man said through gritted teeth.

Percy nodded, grabbed the man's hand and yanked him upwards almost fast enough to disclocate his shoulder. He dropped the guy as soon as he was away from the hole, and he fell on his feet, which instantly gave up on him, and he fell on his ass, which made him yelp in pain like a dog whose tail had just been stepped on, as he bounced upwards, turned in midair, and landed face down in the dirt.

"Impressive, sir. That's exactly how they teach it in training."

The man lifted his face from the dirt and fixed him with a look of pure loathing. Percy kept the smirk off his face, and stared back at the man innocently until he returned his face to the dirt.

They stayed there for a few minutes until Percy broke the silence.

"Well, we should get going."

The man shook his head, still face down.

"No, we really need to go. Apparently, I have to be at a war council meeting. I was told it was incredibly urgent, and I had to be there. So important, that they sent a soldier of your caliber to summon me. Can't give up now. We have to persevere."

"I can't walk. You'll have to carry me."

Percy felt his amusement at the situation melt away, and another wave of revulsion come over him. Pathetic worm.

Percy was well aware that his emotions were swinging from one extreme to the other like the pendulum on an old grandfather clock, and about as frequently, but he didn't care. He was tired, miserable, and the only satisfaction he might have gotten from a mission like the one he had been on until just a few hours prior, had been stolen from him. If he truly made an effort, he could have forced himself to be civil, but he simply didn't want to. This guy didn't deserve his civility. He hadn't earned it.

"Listen," Percy said, as he crouched down next to the guy's head, "You can walk, or I can drag you by your hair. Up to you."

The guy looked up at him, fresh tears welling up in his eyes, and Percy stared back, apathetic. Finally, the guy rose up onto his knees shackily, and grabbed a tree trunk for support. After what felt like an hour, he finally made it onto his feet.

"Ok… I'm ready. Just take it slow."

Percy shook his head.

"I have around 32 hours and thirty minutes until my war council meeting, and the journey from here to Chaos' Realm is 28 hours. Keep up, or don't. I sincerely don't care."

And with that, Percy turned on his heel and continued in the direction they'd been going in before the debacle with the trap. The guy kept up, and Percy demonstrated the most mercy he was willing to offer by limiting himself to 75% speed. It was still almost too much for the guy, who was lagging further and further behind.

In the end, Percy arrived at the main port an hour later. Eckto didn't have much of a CA presence, so they got their people on and off the planet by paying off harbor officials in various ports to turn a blind eye to the occasional CA personnel smuggling themselves onto cargo ships. Once they were roughly in the middle of the ocean, the CA personnel would use a certain device to get a dropship to pick them up from orbit. It was a decent enough system, and one that Percy himself had used many times. The only issue, was that it would cause a significant headache if Percy just left by himself. So, he'd have to wait for the guy that had come to summon him.

It took the guy and additional half hour to catch up, and Percy just stood there with his arms crossed over his chest, focusing on containing his annoyance. A few officials come over to ask him questions, but he sent them packing with a single glare. Something deep inside the primitive, animalistic part of their brains, told them that he was a person to be avoided at all costs, and it was right.

When the guy come stumbling to the docks, looking exhausted and in great pain, Percy fixed his gaze on him.

"I can't believe… you… left…. Me," he gasped through deep panting breaths.

"I can't believe walking for 2 hours exhausted you like this."

"It was so… hot in there," he whined.

Under normal circumstances, Percy might have allowed that. The jungle was, in fact, torturously hot. But he was annoyed.

"Then you should have dressed for it."

"Our weather… reports indicated it was a… comfortable temperature."

"Do your weather reports factor in the humidity?"

"..."

"Right," Percy sighed, "Well, now we can finally get out of here. Follow me and don't say a word. I don't trust you not to find some way to mess this up."

The guy glowered, but he'd learned by then that it was a bad idea to talk back to Percy, despite his higher rank.

Percy found the specific port official that they had paid off, and told them that they were ready.

"Finally! You think I can hold this thing for as long as you want? This ain't a taxi! You make me hold up a freighter like this again, and you're gonna have to find some other guy to help you!"

Which was bullshit. This guy wasn't about to stop working for them, no matter how much they made him wait. He'd just demand more money. And he'd probably get it. Why not? The budget for Chaos' Army probably wasn't literally infinite, but it was close enough that any distinction was meaningless.

Percy just handed over a roll of bills to the guy, who made a big show of counting them carefully.

"I thought we were in a hurry?" Percy said, not bothering to mask his impatience.

The port official's eyes flicked up to Percy, and then back down to the cash. He paused for a second, and then shoved the roll in his pocket, looking around to check if anyone had seen. Once he was satisfied, he waved at Percy and the unfamiliar guy to follow him.

"So, what is it you people do, anyway?" the port official asked as he led them to their ship.

"We pay you to ask questions?"

The official laughed snidely.

Something was wrong here. This was not how people in their employ behaved towards them.

"No, I suppose you don't. But I want to ask anyway."

"Well, don't. That way, we're all happy."

They came to a stop in front of one of the bigger freighters.

"Maybe I'm not happy unless you answer my questions," the official said as he turned towards Percy and the other guy.

"Then you'll die miserable."

The guy stared for a second before laughing. As the laugh wound down, he bit his lip and watched Percy carefully. Then he whistled through pursed lips, and a handful of workers from all around Percy and the other guy suddenly stopped what they were doing and crowded in around them. There were maybe 20 of them; all big, tough guys who looked distinctly unhappy.

Percy raised an eyebrow at the official.

"You feel like explaining this?"

"You see, I got to thinking the other day."

"I hope you didn't hurt yourself."

"And I think," he continued, ignoring what Percy said, "That you're those evil fucking terrorists that attack our convoys."

"We're not."

"Oh yeah? You look like you just came out of the jungle. Smell like it, too."

"I did just come out of the jungle."

"So what the fuck were you doing out there, if you're not terrorists."

"I'm part of the force that's out there killing those terrorists and, you know, keeping all you people safe from them."

"Bullshit. Government didn't send anyone. I'd know. My cousin's in the army."

"Oh, well, if your cousin is in the army, then you know everything, don't you?"

"I don't believe you."

"Tough. Now, unless you want to get hurt, get the hell out of my way."

The official laughed.

"Learn to count, jackass. There's 20 of us, and 2 of you."

"Yes, I know. And for your sake, I hope you have reinforcements hiding around the corner. Or, even better, a team of trauma surgeons."

The official pursed his lips, and shouted "Get 'em!"

Percy felt the guy behind him, the other CA member, the asshole, reach for a pistol tucked into his waistband. He reached out, and grabbed the guy's wrist, shaking his head. There was no need to kill these guys. They were idiots, but they were fundamentally on the same side.

Once he'd indicated to the asshole that they were going to do this without killing anyone, Percy leapt into action. His first move was to launch himself forwards and headbut the official right on the nose, knocking him out instantly. Partly because he'd been annoying, and partly because now there was a chance for a rational conversation.

"Listen, guys. I know you don't want to do this. We don't have to. We're not terrorists. So, you let us go our way, and we'll let you go yours. No one has to get hurt here."

There was silence for a moment, before all hell broke loose. The workers seemed to decide as one, that they did not believe Percy, and their only course of action was to attack. Most of them came for Percy, which was good, and only a few went for the other asshole, which was a relief. Percy knew the guy would be able to at least handle himself in a fight against a bunch of untrained mortals. He'd been through basic training, and even if he hadn't been in a single fight since then, some semblance of those skills would have remained ingrained. Percy's primary concern, was that the guy was going to accidentally kill some of them, since he didn't know enough to hold back.

His first move, was to turn so that everyone was more or less in front of him. That would be easier than turning back and forth. With that done, he got to work. There were distinct advantage to fighting a large number of enemies, if they were untrained. The primary one, was that they had no idea how to make use of their numbers. They were all in each other's way, and a fair few of them ended up suffering blows from friendlies.

Percy made good use of this, by ducking and weaving through the sea of assholes, barely tapping them here and there, and knocking them out. Once, it had been an exhilarating experience fighting mortals. Now it was just boring. There was no challenge to it anymore. Once his adrenaline spiked in the slightest, his perception of things slowed down, and they were practically standing still. And they were so weak. He could flick them on the forehead, and they were down for the rest of the fight.

As Percy made his way through the crowd, he kept an eye on the other fight that was going on, and saw that it was less than satisfactory. The unfamiliar guy was taking a few hits here and there, but nothing serious. The thing that made it less than satisfactory, was that the guy was getting angry. He was lashing out. While he wasn't as physically powerful as Percy, he was still a lot stronger than the guys he was fighting.

The final straw, came when Percy sensed shadows being controlled, and saw a blade of darkness coming straight at one of the guys he was fighting. Percy was moving immediately, knocking over guys like a freight train, and slammed an open palm into the side of the asshole's head, knocking him over, and making him lose concentration on the shadows he'd been manipulating.

With that done, he started cleaning up. He sacrificed some security, for a dominating offence, and laid waste to the guys he was fighting. Once he had truly committed to the fight, it was over in a matter of seconds.

And once it was over, Percy rounded on the guy.

"What the hell were you thinking; using shadows like that? Are you insane?" he demanded.

The guy shrunk back, but tried to preserve some dignity.

"You hit me!"

So, Percy hit him again, open palm, right on the forehead. Barely a tap. The guy reeled.

"Now, shut up, or I'll hit you again."

"You can't do that to me!"

"Oh, yes I can."

"I'll report you!"

"Go right ahead. Spec Ops command always needs toilet paper."

The guy blinked at him and said nothing.

"Now come on," Percy said, "The ship is leaving."

And it was. The ship had left port 30 seconds prior.

Percy and the other guy dove into the water, and swam to the ship. Percy could have used his powers to speed along the journey, but chose not to. That way, the asshole would have to swim under his own power, and he wouldn't be able to bitch about being left behind again.

They swam around to the side of the ship that wasn't facing the port, and then used shadows to make grappling hooks, which they sent flying up and onto the rail of the ship, and hauled themselves up. Once they were on the ship, they used the shadows to keep themselves hidden and snuck down bellow decks. They found a cabin that looked out of the way and unused, and let themselves in. Percy bolted the door shut behind them, and used shadows to seal it shut. Then he unslung his backpack with his weapons in it, and checked out the room. It was a standard affair. Two bunk beds on either side and a table in the middle. Percy took his handgun out of his waistband and sat down on the bottom bunk. He field stripped it, which meant dissasembling to its most basic parts, and cleaned it to make sure it wouldn't be damaged from exposure to the water they had just swam through. Once it was clean and dry, Percy put it back together, laid it on the side table with the muzzle facing the door, and laid down on the bunk, closing his eyes.

This was the first rest he'd had in 60 hours. Right before the asshole he was currently with had summoned him, he'd just been returning from a very long patrol, searching for terrorists. They'd gotten into a few firefights and killed a few bad guys, but nothing particularly exciting. It had mainly just been a brutal slog through the jungle and that was no one's definition of fun.

Predictably, the asshole was the first to break the silence.

"You have any food on you?"

"No."

"No?"

"No."

"Why?"

Percy cracked an eyelid open to look at the guy.

"Why the hell would I bring food with me?"

"In case you get hungry."

"We'll be on a mothership in an hour. There'll be food there. I don't anticipate starving to death before then."

In truth, Percy was pretty damn hungry. He had barely eaten during his patrol in the jungle, and a guy his size needed a lot of calories just to maintain his body weight. But food was of limited supply within the jungle, and he was about to have as much as he wanted in Chaos' Realm and on the mothership, so he wasn't about to take anything from the Operators who were going to have to stay there for several more weeks.

The asshole was quiet for a few moments before muttering, "Well, I'm hungry…"

Percy opened his eyes fully and looked at the pudgy asshole.

"Great. It would do you some good."

"Excuse me?" he demanded.

"I'm guessing you work in a TOC, right? If not in an office in Chaos' Realm. Well, while you guys have unlimited food and water at your beck and call 24/7, those of us who are doing the actual fighting, are rationing our food pretty damn carefuly. Supply drops draw a lot of attention, so we have to make what we get, last. Remember that, when you go back to your cushy job and bitch about us worthless grunts. It would do you some good to remember what it actually looks like on the ground."

The guy said nothing.

An hour passed before Percy sensed that they were in the right place for their extraction. He sat up and gestured for the guy to come with him. He picked up his gun from the side table, and put it back in his waistband. After unsealing the door and listening carefully, he unlocked it and stepped outside. Immediately, he brought the shadows in around him and rendered himself nearly invisible.

Percy and the asshole crept up to the deck and climbed up on top of a bunch of shipping containers. The asshole unzipped the bag he'd brought with him, and gave Percy a harness and took another one out for himself. Percy had seen the type of harness he'd been handed a few times before, and even used similar things on a few occasions, so he started strapping it to his torso deftly, adjusting the straps to fit his larger-than-average torso. The asshole fumbled with it, looking deeply confused at the contraption, but Percy left him to it.

Once the vests were properly equipped and the time was about right, they both pulled on a ripcord on the right shoulder and a small balloon popped out of a compartment in the back of the vest. It flew upwards, gaining speed, and dragging a tow cable with it. To Percy's eyes, the balloon was blinking, but it wouldn't be to anyone who didn't have Chaos' Third Blessing, or a night vision device. The balloons and the cables rose higher and higher into the air until they suddenly stopped just inside the atmosphere, hovering there.

A few seconds later, Percy's enhanced sense picked up the sound of a dropship coming in from dead ahead. If he'd been feeling merciful, he might have turned around, and told the asshole to do the same. But he wasn't, so he didn't.

As the dropship flew directly overhead, it 'caught' the two balloons and took them with it. And because the balloons were attached to cabled, the cables went too. And because the cables were attached to Percy and the asshole, they went along for the ride as well. Percy felt a powerful yank from behind, and suddenly he was flying backwards and off his feet, being dragged out over the ocean. It was always worse to get yanked from behind like that, rather than from the front, which was why Percy didn't warn the asshole.

(This is actually a real thing. At least, in theory. It's called Skyhook. Look it up. Totally nuts)

The asshole started throwing up almost immediately, which was predictable. In fairness to him, Percy had thrown up the first time he'd done this during OTC.

Once they were a decent distance from the freighter, they felt a pull as the dropship started reeling them in like they were prized salmon that had just been caught in a lake. It took a little while to get them both all the way up and into the ship, and it wasn't a particularly comfortable experience, but it was tolerable. To Percy, at least. Once they were onboard, the ship started climbing in altitude and brought them up the mothership, hovering just outside the planet's atmosphere.

A/N: Well, that's a wrap on that one, folks. Well, kind of. You see, in the last A/N I said that this would be the last chapter before he returned to Earth. However, there are a few more things that I want to establish before then, than I anticipated. And this one was getting pretty long. As of now, we're more than 25K words in. Plus, I feel bad. It's been a while since the last one, so hopefully this fairly long chapter will keep you guys busy until I can finish up the next one, which should be shorter, but I make no promises. Bad things happen when I make promises about chapter length and release schedules.

Oh, and I've given up on the single-word chapter names. We had a good run, but it was inevitable.

Anyways, stay safe, and I'll see you in the next one.