Chapter VII: Hostiles

The elevator doors open. Floor B1: Reeducation. Or some other new corporate term, I guess. Reeducation is a bad word now, it seems (or at least, that's what I inferred from the scratched out lettering on the terminal). We all walk out as a group, and I take a look down each end of the hallway. A lot of memories in this room. A lot of knocked out teeth from overzealous Storch units, too. Posters of ÆON's 'wonder weapons' like the wall...Falke...Starling...Mynah...anything, really. It's almost a bit cramped, the way of construction near-brutalist in nature.

But, meh, what do I care? I just wanna get topside by now. I'm tired of breathing the always slightly-dusty air in this place.

"I think this floor's deserted." I inform them both, picking to move right and sticking too it. They both follow in tow, Lanze and Sieben. It's an odd silence, in all reality. There's only the sound of a low-quality ventilation systems humming with process as the lightly foggy air of these interiors contrast the darker shades of the brutalist floors and walls. None of us have really anything to say, and to be perfectly honest, I'm fine with that. They don't get what I have on my mind, and I don't have to hear their bullshit.

Soon enough, we come upon a slide door. The label above it reads 'SURFACE ACCESS'. This is it, I guess.

"Sieben." I say, turning around to look at her. She raises her brow in reaction, showing me that she has my attention.

"I haven't been up there in over 11,000-something cycles." I explain, pointing up to the ceiling as I say 'up there'. She nods, though not without speaking again.

"It should have been 11,000 more, I'm afraid..." She rolls her eyes, saying it in a bit of a smartassed sigh.

"That's not the point. You were in contact with Heimat, correct?" I ask her. Her look straightens up.

"I was, for some time. Radio contact cut out. They promised reinforcements, at the very least." She explains. I nod to that. I don't really know what to make of it. The more the merrier I suppose, but I don't trust that I'd be left alive. For Sieben and Lanze, for that matter. Could be a cleanup operation that these said reinforcements are being called in to contain. Look at it from a pragmatic dictator's perspective: would the Great Revolutionary and Her Daughter's reputation be hit in a good or bad way if it became public knowledge that an advanced, far-out mining facility of theirs went kaput?

I don't dwell on it for long. I turn back around and get to walking through the door. What presents itself is a ladder, which I begin to climb. Lanze and Sieben follow suit.

"So, uh..." I start to talk. "If they start shooting at us, I'll shoot back. Just thought you should know, Sieben." I remark, looking down towards her slightly.

"That's one more charge of treason to your rap-sheet...though I'm confident you wouldn't care about such matters anymore, Alram." She responds. And, well, yeah. She's right. They throw me into a work camp for countless years and expect me to care? Yeah, right.

After a solid minute of climbing, I see the terminus, and scale the ledge into a lobby of some kind. I give a hand to Sieben; she promptly shoos it away. Oh well. Lanze takes it and aids herself up.

"Lanze." I speak to get her attention. She turns her gaze to me, spotting my hand extended and open, a revolver in my palm. Her revolver.

"You might need to be armed out there." I say. With a nod, she takes it, checking the cylinder for rounds, then shutting it and priming the hammer.

Both of them have been pretty quiet. But, alas, you win some and you lose some. We walk out of the nearest door, which leads to a large atrium of sorts. It's a large cargo bay almost, with a large wall-less elevator at the end of the way. Probably meant to carry large numbers of prisoners or supply shipments; who knows?

As we approach it, a sort of alert light on the wall next to the elevator bay turns on, and the platform rises out of sight.

"You two have fun." I answer, taking a seat on the floor behind some crates to rest up a bit.

The elevator takes a bit. Sieben and Lanze are dead silent: nothing in common, I suppose. I don't blame 'em. After a few moments, the platform descends once more. I hear the familiar chatter of Replika stumps upon the floor. The reinforcements, I guess.

Then...

RATATATATATA-

My head immediately snaps to attention as what's easily a mag dump from the Revolutionary knows how many Protektors rings out. I hear the voices of Sieben and Lanze shriek in pain as their bodies collapse.

I keep in cover. I only have my plasma saw; not much for use in a distance against Protektors with guns. I hear Sieben and Lanze cough, then gurgle a few times...with what I can presume to be killing shots being delivered in due order.

"Good work." A Protektor remarks. "Search the atrium." She then orders.

I hear the slow marching of stumps towards me behind the crates I'm lounging on. A slow rhythm to my death if I don't act. I get onto better forming; more of a squat in stature, as I prep to move quickly.

Step...step...

The anticipation is killing me, but despite it, I keep a level head. I decide to keep my plasma saw on my duty belt...best use it for later.

As soon as I see a pair of arms holding a gun come over the crate, I lunge out, my left hand siezing the Protektor's wrist and my wright taking hold of the neck plate of their armor. I throw the Protektor over my shoulder, slamming them on the ground. In quick order, I smash my fist against her head, rendering her unconscious, and ripping their gun out of their hands. A fine Drache submachine gun. I then carry hold of the Protektor's limp body as what I assume to be three Protektors shout...

"CONTACT!"

...in due dilligence.

I hold the Protektor's body as a human shield with one arm, my free limb holding the gun and pointing it at the Protektors.

"A SINGLE STEP AND SHE'S DEAD!" I shout at them. The squad of Protektors easily gets the memo, two of them spreading out a bit to check my flanks.

"DROP HER!" One shouts, all of them training their guns on me.

Utilizing the leverage in the form of their sister-in-arms I'm holding, I step towards the elevator, boarding the platform. I use my foot to mash the 'up' button. As it jolts to live and begins to raise, I acquiesce.

"Fine." I then answer to their demand.

"You want'er?" I then ask. "You can have'er." I declare.

In due order, I point my gun at the Protektor's head, firing a burst into it. Her head drops limp, as I then dump the body off of the platform as said platform then raises out of aim for the Protektors down in the lobby.

My hands tighten around the gun. There's probably more where that came from in terms of reinforcements once this platform reaches the top. My thumb presses on the power button to the weapon's integrated laser sight, as I fold the stock out after.

It feels...odd...to have this weapon again. Normally I'd be firing a rifle out in the field; a rifle was also what I was issued. However, Vineta was a bitch of a place to raid. Trenches were everywhere. And what did trench raiders like myself-on-occasion be given to make clearing easy? A submachine gun like the Drache, which I hold now.

I'm probably gonna die. But I do know that when I die, I'll take out as many of these bitches as I can.

It feels like home, in a way. Fighting the enemy.

And by my own admission, it feels good to be home.

Hey guys. Another short chapter. I'll keep Excommunicated updated with new chapters every now and then; as demonstrated with the previous months-long hiatus before Chapter 6, I can't make promises of being a regular updater. But with that, I least enjoy that you guys are liking this little story in the SIGNALIS universe that I've crafted for you all to read.

Sincerely,

Lizdo-Writing