The Baron's Prize

by SCBM

One of Hell's top field Barons is unsatisfied with Earth's defenders, but soon gets more than she bargained for when ARC retaliates. (F!Baron x M!Human)

4. Chapter 4

It was only after a half hour's walk that the Corporal felt safe to slow it down, the tall walls of the back alleys providing a modicum of security as the squad took refuge between the buildings. One of the soldiers passed him a canteen, Andreas thanking him as he leaned against the wall and unscrewed the cap.

"With respect, Sarge, you look like a dead man walking," Torres commented once Andreas flipped up his visor. "But considering what you've been through, I'm not judging."

"When you're jacked up on appetite suppressants, stimulants, and enough caffeine to fill up a bucket, I'd doubt you'd look pretty either," Andreas replied. He could almost feel the bags under his eyes weighing on his face. It was a good thing there wasn't a mirror around.

"Back when we sent expeditions into the city, we had to hammer entire districts with artillery just so patrols could have a clear space to walk through," Torres said. "I don't know how on Earth you survived out here."

"I could ask the same thing to you," Andreas replied. "Nearly every country in in Europe is gone, so how are you guys still operating?"

"We were spared the worst of the invasion," Torres explained. "The first portals started in the north. UK, Norway, Denmark. While Hell dealt with them, it gave us and the local UAC brass time to prepare, as horrible as that sounds. By the time they swept south, we had almost everybody evacuated, and a defensive strategy in place. Are we really all that's left?" Torres pressed. "Word from the outside is hard to get as you can imagine, and Command doesn't tell us much. Is all of Spain… gone?"

The rest of the squad was looking at him intently, Andreas taking a sip before replying.

"If your Command is keeping you in the dark, it's for a reason," he said. "But you deserve a straight answer. I wasn't told much either, but I'll say this, ever since we arrived off the coast a couple weeks back, we've been sending broadcasts out on all frequencies every hour, every day. You're the only ones who've answered."

"Shit…" Torres muttered. "Maybe I shouldn't have asked."

"Don't jump to conclusions," Andreas added. "ARC has several smaller flotillas in the Mediterranean. There's a chance they managed to fly some people out of here before we came in."

His words seemed to put Torres and his squad more at ease. These people had been trapped in Spain for a long while, bad news was something they were able to take.

"What's the status of the Rallypoint?" Andreas asked, changing the subject.

"Morale was at an all-time low. We've been living off canned food for months now, and rationings made it worse. When your section came in with relief supplies, it helped, but after we heard that one of your ships didn't make it, we assumed the worst. Without those Shards, all we could do was sit there and wait for the demons to starve us out."

"Then pow, one of the gore nests goes up in flames," another of the soldiers continued. "That really was your doing, sir?"

"Who else would it be, numb nuts?" Torres asked. "But yeah, some of your men said it had to be you, and it looks like they were right. I think spirits among the men will surge once you get back there with those Shards."

"Then we've got no time to lose," Andreas said, tossing the soldier his canteen and straightening up. "How far until we get there? I'm about through with this city."

"It's an hours' walk, maybe two," Torres replied. "Sir, with respect, you should take a breather. God knows you need it."

"I'll have plenty of time to breath once I'm inside this fortress I keep hearing about," Andreas said. Torres conceded, nodding for his squad to collect their gear and get back on their feet.

"It's this way," Torres said, walking out of the alley and pointing a finger to the left. "Since you're the ranking officer, I defer squad lead to you, Sarge."

"You won't defer anything, Corporal," Andreas said, shaking his head. "You're not ARC, I've no authority over you or your men. Besides, this is your country, you should lead the way."

"Oh. All right then, Sarge," Torres said, surprised by his answer. "If you could take up the rear, we'll be travelling in line formation."

The squad followed the Corporal out onto the street, each man keeping a few feet of distance from each other, Andreas filing out after them and watching the team's back. It felt good to be surrounded by his fellow mortals again, that sense of safety in numbers calming his boiling nerves.

Tens of minutes passed without demonic interruption, and while Torres and some of the squad commented on the situation, Andreas kept to himself. He had a pretty strong idea why the demons were leaving them alone, as they had bigger fish to fry – said fish being a certain Baroness. He'd seen a few isolated cases of infighting, but that was only between the lesser demons, like zombies or cacodemons, but he'd never seen a Baron being challenged like that before. He knew she was skilled, but could she handle the numerous amounts of imps he'd seen since the crash?

Andreas chuckled inside his helmet. Was he concerned for her? For all the grief she'd caused him, all the chasing and the teasing, it'd be a shame if she went out when he was just starting to get to know her.

"What are you laughing at?" Eva demanded, her sudden voice startling him.

"Oh, hey Eva. It's just the way the Corporal talked about me just now," he explained. "You'd think I'd be the Slayer or something, coming in and lifting everyone's hopes with these Shards."

"There's a key difference between you and the Slayer," Eva pointed out. "He kills demons, while you stand around and have a chat with them."

"Here we go…" Andreas sighed, bracing himself.

"It's bad enough that you continued to discuss your personal life with a Baron of Hell, after I told you the dangers, mind. Hell forbid you show a shred of concern for your safety after your capture."

"Look, I-"

"Oh, but then it gets better! Just when we're about to escape, you have the sudden urge to turn around and give said Baron a helping hand! Why did you not shoot her instead? Or better yet, let the rest of the demons solve the problem for us?"

"What's done is done, Eva, what matters now is we get to the Rallypoint."

"Oh, no no no, you're not brushing this one off. You can walk and talk. Explain to me why you're so… obsessed with her?"

"She's a demon that likes to talk," he said, feigning indifference. "That's enough to spark my interest. Yours too, right?"

"That doesn't change the fact that she works for the most evil entity humanity has ever witnessed! Or is this Baron not like other demons, is that what you're getting at?"

"In some ways, yeah," he agreed. "You've been there every step of the way, you've seen how unique she is. She could have killed me a dozen times over, but she didn't. Hell, she even saved me from that imp. And when she said they were justified in betraying her, and wasn't trying to kill them… Since when have you seen a demon show mercy? It's unheard of."

"You don't… You don't respect her, do you?" Eva asked, as though she was accusing him of murder.

"Well, I think it's one of the things I like about her."

Eva didn't reply, and when the silence dragged on, Andreas reached up to tap his helmet.

"Hey, you good in there, Eva?"

"Don't hit me, my lattice is preoccupied trying to ascertain your sudden cognitive dissonance!" Eva barked. She used the following pause to collect herself, her tone levelling out, but still edged with anger. "How can you like her!? She tried to whisk you away to a cathedral and threatened to eat your soul! Didn't your mother warn you about women like her?"

"I was being an ass," Andreas pointed out. "I deserved a bit of a scolding. Besides, she's cute when she's pissed."

"Of all of Earth's soldiers, I had to be paired with a… a promiscuous heathen," Eva lamented. "Please for love of all that is holy, don't start thinking with your… thingy. Your penis."

She said that last bit as though it caused her physical trauma, Andreas rolling his eyes.

"Look, all I said was I like her, it's no big deal…"

"Oh, so you staring at her chest thirty percent of the time is no big deal, is it?"

"Thirty percent? It's a good thing I had the visor on, huh?"

"Be serious for a second, Seargent. You are walking a very fine line. Sympathy is the first step to possession. Hell can and will take advantage of any weakness."

"I thought you were my aid, Eva, not my critic."

"I'm not doubting you!" Eva chided. Andreas couldn't remember the last time she'd raised her voice at him, if she ever had.

"I'm trying to help you because I'm concerned! I've seen so many humans be seduced by Hell, become monsters. I can't let the same happen to you. You might not be afraid, but I'm afraid for you. That's why I'm criticising your actions."

Their exchange simmered in silence as Andreas followed the squad through the next intersection. Flights of winged demons screeched through the skies, too high to be of concern, but a troubling sight nonetheless.

"Listen, Eva," Andreas began. "I know you're just looking out for me and I appreciate it. How long have you and me been together?"

"Since the invasion started," she answered. "Every step of the way."

"And how many times have I let you down since?"

"Never…"

"That's not changing, you hear me? Sharrya is a demon, through and through, and I'll treat her as such until I'm dead."

"I hope it will not come to that…"

-xXx-

After an hour of walking, the squad began to emerge from the ruins, unfiltered wind pushing against his chest as Andreas took in the view of a mostly unobstructed sky. Bits of wall and housing frameworks still littered around him, but the majority of the cluttered streets was now behind him, the territory in front taking on the look of a barren wasteland.

The sloped ground was pockmarked with craters tens of feet deep, the ground taking on an ashen quality. The ground was free from detail save for a few strewn pieces of metal and glass. It was as though the thumb of God had come through and wiped the Earth clean. The empty canvas ahead was a stark contrast to the winding streets Andreas had crossed the past two days.

"Our artillery pounds the crap out of the area around the Rallypoint every week," Torres explained when Andreas quizzed him. "Helps thin their numbers, at least we think so. Thousands of them get caught in the blasts, but they just replace them like it's nothing. Some days you can't even see the ground, that's how many there are."

"If there's that many, how'd you get to me?" Andreas asked.

"We snuck out on our own two feet. Any vehicle or aircraft and we'd have too much company to deal with."

"How'd you manage that?"

"I'll show you, just a couple more ash dunes, and we'll be there."

Andreas could see lights permeating the sky before them, but their source was obstructed by the dunes, Andreas following the men as they manoeuvred through the craters. Their steps were careful, precise, as though they were following a route known only to them. He wondered how many times Torres had done this.

As the squad crested one more hump in the Earth, Andreas finally saw his destination. As the ground sloped away, a sheer slab of grey metal greeted his view, towering some two hundred feet into the air. Buttressed projected from the very tip of the wall, giving it a very castle-like appearance. The metal seemed to be overlaid with segmented plates, perhaps as an extra reinforcement layer. Its closest point was a corner, the wall turning away and continuing on for hundreds of meters before ending at another turn, Andreas assuming the wall was shaped like a square.

At each corner of the walls was an impressive mounted gun, their twin barrels turned at various angles towards the sky. They looked bigger than houses, probably responsible for the scarred ground surrounding the Rallypoint on all sides. These weren't the only defences in place. Nearly the whole length of the wall was bristling with smaller weaponry, autocannon barrels and machine gun mounts turned towards the ground, protected by improvised sandbags and draped in camo netting.

Andreas could see the tops of buildings beyond the wall, a glass dome taking up the most space, with a few flat tops spaced around its flanks. If Andreas had to guess how much land the fortress covered, he'd compare it to the size of a city block, maybe more. It was massive, and its numerous defences reflected that. No wonder they had held the line for so long.

"I've read the reports, seen photos," Andreas remarked, hunkering alongside the squad. "but that's a fucking huge base you've got there."

"Samuel Hayden liked to dream big," Torres replied, adjusting from one knee to the other. "You're looking at all that's left of Spain, Sarge. It's people, everything."

"What's the headcount?"

"Two fifty k. All the civvies are packed in like canned fish in the underground section – UEC thought ahead, thank God. Only soldiers are allowed topside, since the demons like to drop napalm in the courtyard."

"How do we get in?" Andreas asked. "I don't see a front door."

"The main gate's on the far side, but we're not going that way. Here," he added, sliding off his rifle's scope and passing it over. "Take a look at the far side of the wall, where it meets the coast."

Andreas took the detached scope, opening up his visor and peering through the lens. The view of the wall panned right as he moved to where the Corporal was pointing. From their vantage point, he was able to see a straight view towards the sea, the land terminating in a series of rock pools and steep drops, the waves throwing up clouds of froth as they crashed into the cliffs.

The corner of the Rallypoint sat a short distance away from the beach, the fortifications built into a nearby incline. Andreas spotted what Torres was pointing out. Nestled in the pools was a jutting length of pipe, three meters wide and just as tall, its angle protruding from the direction of the wall. Its lid was covered over in two pieces of blast shield, connected to the pipe by what looked to be hydraulic clamps.

"That pipe's our ticket in?" Andreas asked, Torres nodding as he passed back the scope.

"It's how me and the boys got out. Demon patrols are light on this side, and they're not a fan of the water. It's about as safe as anything."

"I have a question," Eva said, her voice covering the local channel. "It does not seem very concealed. How has this secret entrance not been detected?"

"You see that tide pool it's in? It's actually man-made. There's a control booth inside that can flood it or drain it at a moment's notice, like our own little aquarium. They've probably had eyes on us for a while now, that's why it's drained right now."

They began to move down the slope, Andreas struggling to keep his footing on the silt. The way the chain of craters was formed made it seem like a great moat surrounded the wall. The squad didn't move down it, however, turning off just before the drop and walking parallel to the Rallypoint.

"You said something about demon patrols?" Andreas asked. "How big?"

"Couple dozen each, I'd say. Imps, arch-villes, couple revenants too. They like to stay close to the wall, set up shop where the guns can't get an angle. You can see a camp just over there."

Torres pointed down the length of the wall, the opposite direction they were going. Clustered around its footprint were a handful of stone walls, sunken into the ground at odd angles. Lanky figures moved between the gaps, mostly imps, but Andreas could also spot the tall profile of a hell knight and even a paunchy mancubus, two of the heavier casts employed by Hell.

The lingering demons were sheltered from the sky by what looked like suspended stretches of tarp, but when Andreas took a closer look, his face contorted in disgust. The stretching fabric was pink, streaked with veins and bearing an uncanny resemblance to taut skin, its corners hooked into the concrete via ivory claws and teeth.

There were other, similar encampments stretching along the moat, demons of all shapes and sizes scattered in and around the abhorrent structures. Laying between these camps were appendages dozens of feet tall, their undersides brimming with suckers and thorns, their tips ending in wicked points. They looked like disembodied tentacles from some giant squid monster. Some tentacles were propped up against the wall, severed from whatever monstrosity had birthed them. Perhaps the demons had once tried using them to climb over the defences.

The whole scene looked like some perverted version of a medieval siege camp, the demons taking on the strangely passive role of waiting out the defenders. Maybe that was why Sharrya was after him so much – the Rallypoint hardly made a good outlet if they stayed behind their two-hundred-foot wall and never came out.

Enjoy it while it lasts, Andreas thought, touching the pocket where he kept the Shards.

A bestial cry permeated the air, Andreas and the squad turning around, spotting a figure about a hundred meters across the grim, blighted land. It was a Baron, Andreas locking eyes with Sharrya as she brandished a claw and jabbed it in his direction. Spittle flicked from her chops as she repeated the call, the noise sending a chill down Andreas' spine.

He chanced a glance back towards the encampments. The demons were no longer lingering, they were moving, emerging from their fleshy camps and charging across the ash.

"This Baron's really out for your ass!" Torres called, waving his men on. "Come on, boys, double time!"

They started to run, racing towards the shore. Andreas could feel the impact of Sharrya's hooves as she gave chase to the squad, her long legs carrying her swiftly over the silt. A glance over his shoulder told him they'd never outrun her out in the open like this.

Andreas turned about, dropping to a knee as he raised his rifle, Sharrya baring her long tusks at him as he opened up on her. Plasma bolts singed into her arms as she used her limbs like a shield, protecting her face and chest. Torres' squad immediately knew what he was doing, the clatter of their ballistic guns joining his bolts as they laid down suppressive fire on the Baron.

She grunted something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like miscreants, Sharrya throwing herself behind a dune and out of sight, flicks of ash thrown up as some of the soldiers kept her pinned. Swinging ninety degrees to the left, Andreas prepared to fire on the oncoming swarm, but a glove on his shoulder stopped him.

"You need to go, Sarge!" Torres shouted. "Get to the pipe, we'll cover you!"

"Now's not the time to play the hero, Corporal," Andreas replied.

"Sir, we're just the expeditionary force. You're the ranking officer, and you've got precious cargo. You're the priority."

"Fuck your priorities, nobody's getting left behind. We'll leapfrog," he said. "Three at a time, you and two others go first. That's an order. Go!"

Torres hesitated, but a strong shove on Andreas' part spurred him into action. He called for two of the men, and they joined him as he raced towards the sea. By the time Andreas had returned his attention to the demons, the swarm had already crossed half the distance, dozens of imps interspersed with heavy-class demons baring down on him.

Andreas squared his sights up with a hell knight spearing the pack, easily the fastest of the lot. The beast had a bulkier build compared to the imps lagging behind it, nearly rivalling Sharrya in its overall height. It stomped on a pair of digitigrade legs tipped with fat, clawed toes, the pink flesh on its thighs and arms bulging with each stride. The top half of its head looked like an exposed skull, vacuum-packed in a thin layer of skin, while its lower half was more or less human, albeit with a lack of eyes or a nose.

Andreas put a burst of plasma bolts into its chest, the last of which melting a chunk out of its pectoral. The demon tried to continue to charge them down, but a round from one of the squad members put it down for good.

"We're covering!" Torres called into the channel. "Vamos, vamos!"

Andreas and his two cohorts leapt to their feet, following in the footsteps of the Corporal and his team. Leapfrogging was a common tactic in most units, where two teams took turns to move positions while one covered the other. It was a coordinated move, but everything around Andreas was pure chaos. Bullets flew one way, fireballs went the other, the loose ground causing him to stagger more than once, making him feel like he was trying to sprint through ankle-deep tar.

He passed the Corporal's group, continuing on another thirty meters before the ash gave way to uneven shards of rock. The rocky shore spread out and below him, the formations of the stone taking on the appearance of angled stalagmites, clusters of algae and moss growing between the cracks adding a splash of colour that was striking in this hellscape.

His two counterparts turned to lay down covering fire, picking off the imps and arch-villes that were closing in on the Corporal's team, Andreas raising his rifle to join them. He fired between Torres and one of the soldiers, the plasma stream cutting a swath through the demonic ranks, but they must have drawn the attention of the entire siege, more demons moving down the Rallypoint wall towards the commotion. Torres had said there was enough of them that he couldn't see the ground, and Andreas was starting to believe him.

"Smoke out!" one of the soldiers called, pulling a canister from his rigging and unlocking the pin. He tossed it over the head of Torres, where it rolled to a stop before exploding in a puff of grey gas. Another soldier chucked another canister, a low wall of thick, obscuring smoke coalescing at the Corporal's flank.

"Down here, come on!" Torres exclaimed, hopping into the closest pool, his boots splashing in the water. The rest of the team followed him down, Andreas moving down last. The smoke would help conceal them, but they only had precious seconds before the demons would simply walk through.

Pure adrenaline fuelled the team as they crossed from one pool to the next, the sounds of splashing water and gunfire mingling over one another. When they arrived at the pipe, it was bigger than Andreas first thought, about as large as a vault door and just as heavy, steel plates inches thick forming a cap over the entrance.

There was a whir of electronics, and the cap began to part down the middle, the two halves sliding away to reveal a gaping darkness. The lower rim was suspended a few feet off the ground, one of the soldiers throwing himself onto the ledge, slinging his rifle as he turned to help the next man up.

Andreas, Torres, and the third soldier kept watch as they filed into the pipe one at a time, barrels scanning the cliffside for targets. They didn't have to wait long, Sharrya's hooves kicking loose stones as she appeared on the cliff, smoke ribboning over her emerging form.

"You're not getting in that fort, Andreas," she purred, as if this was all a game to her. Andreas replied with an eye roll, exaggerating his head movement for emphasis. Torres tilted his head at their exchange, then fired his rifle at her.

"You on a first-name basis with that thing?" the Corporal asked, pulling the loading bolt back.

"It's complicated," Andreas replied.

The bullet ripped through Sharry's bicep, blood misting behind her arm, but the demoness didn't even flinch. She leapt from her perch, the ground quaking as she landed on a knee amongst the rocks a stone's throw away.

Her lips peeled back in a grin as her underlings leapt to join her. Two, three, four arch-villes landed at her feet, along with another hell knight, more pouring in by the second as the swarm breached the smoke cloud.

As the sound of plasma bolts and high-calibre bullets rose into the air, the clatter pervaded here and there by a warbling cry from a felled demon, a new sound rose above the tumult. The reinforced mechanisms securing the pipe's cap were shifting back into position, closing off their escape one slow inch at a time.

"Come on, sirs!" one of the soldiers yelled. "We're out of time!"

The rest of the squad had clambered up, leaving just him and the Corporal out in the open. Two men stood in the pipe's mouth and covered, Andreas and Torres breaking cover and moving for their exit.

Andreas hoisted himself up first, his kneepads soaking as he crouched over a small dribble of water running along the cusp of the ceramic pipe. As he turned to help the Corporal, his eyes tracked a yellow fireball coming straight for them. He tried to yell out, but too late, the inferno slamming into the small of Torres' back.

He'd been in the middle hoisting a leg into the pipe, and the impact threw off his balance, the man loosing a pained grunt as he was sent falling back. He would have been crushed by the doors, or worse, if Andreas hadn't reached out and seized his arm and pulled him back.

One of the soldiers knelt down to help him, the two dragging Torres out of the closing doors' path. Another fireball was sent their way, but it splashed harmlessly against the pipe's lip.

"Get back," Andreas ordered, passing Torres off to the soldiers, the men dragging the groaning Corporal further down the pipe, the three other squad members making room. Andreas turned and unloaded his plasma cell into the closing gap, knocking down two of the demons trying to close in on the pipe.

When the sliver closed to the point he could no longer shoot safely through, Andreas held his fire, smoke wisping from the end of his weapon. Barely a sliver remained between the doors, and Andreas made to release a sigh of relief, when two red hands slipped through the gap.

Andreas watched in startlement as fingers as long as his hand curled, gripping the steel edges and pulling outwards. Complaining metal groaned down the length of the pipe, Andreas blinking as the familiar features of Sharrya appeared through the gap. Her face was scrunched with effort, the muscles in her streamlined shoulders flexing as she fought against several tonnes of pneumatic pressure. Surely even she wasn't strong enough to fight against pistons… was she?

"You think this changes anything?" she growled, meeting his eyes through the crack, the Baron chuckling as he pulled up his rifle threateningly. "You've cornered yourself, like the rest of the rats in there. You can't run anymore, and now you can't hide either. When I break down these walls, nothing will stop me from claiming you."

"I think you'll find these walls are for your benefit," Andreas replied, putting a light pressure on the trigger. "Earth's our home, Sharrya, and I think you've outstayed your welcome."

"Even with your back to the wall, you still possess so much fire," she mused. "Being my prisoner isn't as bad as it sounds, I believe I made that quite clear by showing you much leniency. If only you hadn't been so foolish as to try and escape," she sighed, her eyes glazing as she chewed her lip. "I never got to show you the true extent of my hospitality. I can be oh so generous to mortals I find… intoxicating."

"I like you too, crazy-horns," he laughed, not sure if her 'hospitality' involved torture or something… more than that. "You're right about one thing, though. This is the last time you'll see me running from you. If I could shit on your parade all by myself," he added, pointing a finger at her face, his glove barely an inch from her snout. "Imagine what I can do with an army at my back."

He had intended that as a threat, but instead, Sharrya responded with a gleaming smile, a sparkle of anticipation in her emerald eyes.

"If it's your intention to meet me on the battlefield… I welcome the challenge."

"I know you do."

"Until then, Seargent," she cooed. With a wink, her hand fell away, the theory of whether she could overpower the doors left unanswered as she let the doors close the rest of the way. Her curled lips was the last thing Andreas saw before the lid closed and he was plunged into darkness.

A tumbling mechanism nearby sounded off, the doors locking with an audible clunk of metal on metal. With that, the treacherous streets of Spain were sealed away, Andreas fighting the urge to collapse right then and there. Never before had he spent so much time exposed to the elements, every moment promising an attack from above, below, behind, anywhere, with Sharrya on his case since the moment he'd crash-landed. He felt like he'd gone through Hell and back, and in a way, he had.

Andreas was filled with a sense of elation, like he'd just spent an extended period of time underwater, and finally breached the surface to breathe, all the adrenaline bleeding out of his muscles to leave them sore.

"Corporal," he started, using his rifle like a crutch to prop himself up. "You good?"

"Armour took the most of it, I'll live," Torres replied. Deeper into the pipe, the rest of the squad lingered around their officer, one of them supporting him by the arm.

One of the men offered a hand, pulling Andreas to his feet. With the pipe shut and the demons safely behind it, he took a moment to take in his new surroundings. The walls of the pipe were worn, discoloured markings giving away where the water level would usually sit. It was almost pitch black, a solitary fluorescent cast a deep shade of red at the rear of the pipe, which terminated at a wall with a sloped bottom a short distance away.

Torres' team began to move deeper inside, Andreas taking up the rear. There was a step ladder just beyond the wall-mounted light, Andreas craning his neck to see it led to a hatch. Once Torres was able, he climbed up first, a box of white light shining down as he opened the hatch.

They moved up one at a time, and when it was Andreas' turn, eh found himself emerging into a metal corridor, bulbs suspended from the ceiling bathing it in artificial light. The hatch leading from the pipe was by a junction, the path splitting at a right angle. Doors numbered in incremental order lined the walls every few meters, more intersections splitting off in the distance leading deeper into the compound.

"This is one of the wards," Torres explained, noting his stare. "One of three, they make up the first few underground levels of the base."

"The civvies live here?" Andreas asked.

"Not in here, no. People don't like sleeping this close to the pipe. Go figure. The Commander said to bring you to her once you were inside, shall we go?"

Andreas replied by removing his helmet, and passing it off to the Corporal, Torres flashing him a skeptical look.

Before Torres could speak, Andreas stepped up to the closest door, finding it unlocked. Inside was a small bedroom with a walk-in bathroom, and after a quick check to make sure it was empty, he moved over to the bed, and collapsed onto the mattress face-down without a word.

A bewildered Corporal and his team stood just outside the door, looking to one another, unsure of what to do now that their mission of complete.

"So," Torres said. "Should I get the Commander, or…?"

One of the men shrugged, his pauldrons creaking with the movement.

"I wouldn't," Eva said, using the helmet's speakers to address them. "He's not slept in over forty hours, leave him be. Now, if you would bring me to Valeria, I'll debrief her."

"Oh, sure. You got it, robot lady," Torres said, giving the helmet an affirmative tap.

"It's AI," Eva corrected. "And don't hit the lattice."

-xXx-

The pocket of condensing energies gave off a resonating hum, its pitch screaming into her eardrums as the manifold collected her, thrusting her across dozens of kilometres. Sharrya was already marching by the time the portal deposited her back into the courtyard surrounding her cathedral, her hooves making deep clicks against the paved path.

The throngs of cultists parted before her as surely as water parted around a stone. Her tendency to walk straight through anyone caught in her path probably had something to do with their eagerness to move aside. Only one of the possessed turned to follow her, dipping his hooded head in respect, one she replied with a nonchalant snort.

"My esteemed Baroness," the priest drawled. "It pleases me to see you return safely from the front lines. I assume your endeavours were a success?"

"Success?" she barked, storming up to the cathedral doors. "Maykyr's be dammed, I've never experienced such a catastrophic failure! That little delinquent escaped my grasp once again, all thanks to the petulant efforts of these mutated upstarts!"

"Word reached me of the betrayal some time ago," the priest said, leading with his staff as he followed her inside. "I've already sent messengers to all corners of your territory; their skulls shall adorn your mantles within the day. I beg your pardon, Baroness," he added, glancing between his bare feet. "I swear, I possessed no knowledge that such disgruntled creatures were present in the legions."

Sharrya paused, turning to face the priest. Her eyes were quite literally on fire at that moment, the corrupted human uttering a pitiful squeak that barely caught her ear.

"Yes you did," she accused, bending over to demonstrate her superior height. "Every time you request an audience, you've always made a note that something should be done to occupy our forces in this period of waiting. You knew something like this was inevitable."

All that came out was air when the priest opened his mouth, his quivering breaths washing over her snout. He winced away as if expecting her to strike him, but she responded to his fears with a deep sigh.

"And so did I."

Sharrya rose away from him, dragging a hand down her face. The priest's expression remained timid, clambered with insecurity, but now a shade of surprise crossed his puckered face.

"I failed to heed your warnings," she added. "Boredom and inconsideration clouded my judgement, and you remained ever incessant despite this. You were more dutiful than I, and I apologise for it."

The priest had the expression of an adolescent discovering his first raunchy magazine, nearly dropping his staff as he processed the last eight seconds.

"M-My Baroness," he began, exasperated. "I am unworthy of your apologies, it is you who suffered from the imp's tactless decisions, not I."

"Priest, I do not give out apologies lightly, and there will not be a second time. Do yourself a favour and just accept it, I order you."

He nodded enthusiastically, perhaps not trusting his voice to get the message. Usually the lack of a verbal answer annoyed her, but she let it slide this time. Despite her lingering troubles, she was in a very lenient mood, and it wasn't just the priest who was shocked by the development.

Perhaps her recent interactions with Andreas had something to do with it. In all the worlds she'd hopped to and from, she'd never opened up to someone before. Sure, there had been a few flings with other Baron's she found worthy of her attentions, but there had been no meaning to them, and the deep opposition she felt with the Seargent was just the right amount of thrill in such a connection.

Oh how she couldn't wait to get her hands on him. Andreas had to feel the same as she was – how could he not? She knew it was difficult to form connections when you served your people in all things, never stopping to ponder on how you could serve yourself. She wanted him to see she was his answer to that.

But wanting would not make it so. Waiting around had got her nowhere, now was the time to act.

"Recall your messengers," she said, regaining her composure and making for the end of the hall. "Leave the rebelling imps be, we have far more pressing issues that need tending."

"O-Of course," the priest replied, nearly dropping his staff as he hurried after her. "And… what might those issues be?"

"Andreas has slipped into the fortress – assisted by one of those meddlesome patrols they like to send out. It does not take a genius to realise he is there for a reason."

"'A-Andreas', my Baroness?" the priest inquired. At first she thought he was joking, but she realised only she knew Andreas by name.

"The… soldier, the would-be Slayer?" she explained, the priest nodding in understanding. "He entered the fortress through this passage I wasn't aware of.. At first I thought it was for survival's sake, but the harder he fought, the more we spoke, and when that patrol picked him up… I've been led to believe that something more is afoot. He is of special importance to the Rallypoint, and I must know why."

"But, he is beyond your reach now," the priest muttered, giving her a weary glance as he considered his next words. "-what I mean is, he has encased himself in a highly defensible position. The Rallypoint has access to hydroponic farms, water purifiers, and sophisticated robotic foundries according to scouting reports. They are self-sufficient and heavily armed."

"Yes, yes, I know of the Rallypoint's capabilities."

"Then, in your expertise, how do you plan on getting to this, 'Andreas'? We cannot bypass the walls with portals while that suppression field of theirs is in place."

"You just answered your own question, priest."

The echo of clopping hooves bounced off the gothic walls as Sharrya swept to the rear of the lobby, passing through a set of iron doors at the rear of the space. Beyond the threshold, the ground ramped through a corridor, the priest following Sharrya as she walked deeper into the Earth.

"You mean to disable the field?" he asked. "But the generator lies in the very heart of the fortress, how can it be accessed? Do you plan on using the same passage Andreas used to get inside?"

"They flooded it with neck-deep water shortly after he escaped," Sharrya explained, moving through another set of swinging doors, the hinges creaking as she thrust them open. "And such a narrow bottleneck will be lethal for any infiltrating force regardless. Any plan involving stealth is out of the question."

"That only leaves one option," the priest remarked, sparing her a pensive glance. "You wish to assault them directly."

"Wish? I do not wish, I demand an assault. For too long have we been sitting idle, a fireball's throw from their refuge, spilling our own blood while the humans rest and recoup. Our forces are fickle, I see that now. The only way to save ourselves, bring us victory, and earn myself distinction among the Maykyrs is to take the fight to them."

They emerged into a dim cellar, the sconces lining the obsidian brickwork duplicating their shadows. Alien weapons and armour pieces suspended on chains and mounted on pedestals scattered among the room. Their ethereal nature and layout gave off an exhibitionist flair, but towards the rear half of the room were more familiar apparatus. Swords, battleaxes, cybernetic augments that replaced regular limbs, among many other tools and armaments favoured by Hell.

"My Baroness, I would never question your decisions," the priest murmured. "But, your forces failed you the last time you gave such an order, and the cost of the attempt took a toll on your war effort."

"I will not let such defiance go unanswered," Sharrya growled. "When Andreas and his dropships deployed to the continent, it was you who suggested I let them pass as a means of introducing change. Well, change has been bountiful as of late, and this time there will be change…"

"Our legions at the camps are too thin to stage an attack," the priest reminded.

"So bring them more," she growled, growing impatient. "Whip the summoners, deploy the reserves, send your messengers to the corners of the front, bring every single claw and horn to bear on that Rallypoint!"

A section of the wall on their left broke off into a narrow passage, the sounds of metallurgy and pumping heat echoing from the depths. Smithed weapons were created directly beneath the cathedral to arm the masses, but the pieces here were for her use only.

"And send for the gore nest guardians as well," she added, striding between two weapon racks. "and deploy my cyberdemon honour guard, too. They have spent enough time sitting on their hands here at the cathedral."

"H-How many do you wish – demand – to send?"

"All of them! Did I not just say I want every legion we have moving to that Rallypoint?"

"W-We would leave the whole continent undefended," the priest said. "The nests, the cathedral, it would all be open to attack."

"Annihilating the Rallypoint is all that matters," she said. "They will hardly pose a risk to our assets if we occupy them with a surprise attack. With each of my legions deployed on the offence, our superiority in numbers will assure a swift victory."

"The humans have access to the largest artillery guns left on the planet. Heavy bombardment will make quick work of such sheer numbers. With respect, Baroness, in comparison to your prior attacks, I fear little to no change."

"Change," she muttered. "is exactly what will assure our victory."

"Baroness?" he asked, following Sharrya as she reached the far end of the cellar, stepping up to a gate built into a section of the wall. A small space was released behind the bars, Sharrya turning a nearby switch. There was a bumping noise, and then the gate began to maw open, the priest going speechless as he stared at what lay behind it.

Draped over an arranged set of poles, a suit of mechanical armour posed in a resting position, its bright blue colour contrasting against the dark bricks. The leggings were comprised of three pieces total - a sloping plate for the thighs, a thin piece for her shins, and a angled piece that would fit comfortably against her digitigrade legs, with a splayed open cap so her hooves stuck out from the bottom.

The chest piece was narrow and slim, the section covering the belly protruding out into a pair of distinct orbs as they neared the clavicle. There were textures engraved into the alloy, thin white lines branching over and around to the back piece, the tracings similar to what one might find on a circuit board.

Heavy shoulder pads spikes with coils capped one end of the gauntlets, pads designed to fit around the knuckles making the other. Conjoining them was a sleeve of blue alloy, more metal teeth forming rings over the forearm.

Lastly, the helmet, Sharrya having to angle her head a little to meet the solitary, narrow slit forming the visor. The mouthguard was split in twain, designed to be worn with the user's mouth exposed, while the metal cap was a whole piece inches thick, with two branching horns of grey metal poking out from the ears.

She could see her reflection in the battlesuit, the light from the sconces making it sparkle under her scrutiny. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the priest regarding the armour with wonder, and Sharrya couldn't help but share the sentiment. She had not worn this armour in centuries, but she'd be dammed before letting it fester in the darkness of her cathedrals.

"This is change," Sharrya muttered, reaching out to pluck at the suit with her claw. The suit made a little plinking sound as the keratin touched the breastplate. "I, along with my elite guard, will be the tip of the spear. The legions will be the haft, and together we will tear down that bastion once and for all."

She reached for the right-hand gauntlet, where a bright red flail stood at the side of the armour. She gripped the wrappings on the pole, then brandished it in front of her chest, its familiar weight hitting her in a wave of pleasant nostalgia.

"Your personal involvement will certainly even the odds," the priest mused, flinching when she thumbed a mechanism that let the spiked ball slink off the handle, the attaching chain making an echoing, rattling noise throughout the cellar.

"I will do more than just even them. Once I disable the guns, I will personally rip out the heart of their suppression field generator. That will be your cue to flood the fortress with portals, from there you will portal through every possessed you can, sowing chaos and allowing the rest of the legions to bypass the walls directly. From there, victory is inevitable."

The priest locked his fingers together thoughtfully. "Your wisdom is matched only by your tactical supremacy, my Baroness. Ripping apart that eyesore shall be your most glorious hour."

"Indeed," Sharrya said, rolling her eyes. She must have assuaged his concerns if he was switching back to petty compliments. "Now, send for the legions, direct them to the Rallypoint, I will be there to assemble them shortly."

The priest nodded, turning for the exit. He got about halfway through the armoury before she called out to him.

"Priest!" she shouted. "One last thing."

He turned, bowing for her to continue.

"Listen to me very carefully. The human, Andreas, is mine. He is not to be touched or harmed in any way. Any demon who so much as growls in his direction, I will burn them so hard they will have blisters the size of cacodemons. And if you or any of your messengers fail to get across my point, priest, being burned alive will look like paradise in comparison to what I'll do to you. Am I clear?"

The priest's eyes widened to the size of plates, but he did reply with a nod. Or maybe that was him just trembling like a leaf, but Sharrya motioned for him to leave either way."

"And if he is spotted, I am to be warned and portalled to his location immediately," she added. "Now begone, I have work to do."

The little taps of his naked feet quickly faded, leaving Sharrya alone in the armoury. She let the flail rest on one shoulder, using her other hand to pluck the robotic helmet from its stand. It was heavy, even for her, and for a minute all she could hear was the crackle of flames as she and the little yellow visor had a staring contest.

If I could shit on your parade all by myself, imagine what I can do with an army at my back.

"Oh, Andreas," she chuckled. "Such poor, poor choice of words…"

-xXx-

Andreas awoke with a chortle, an uneasy sensation causing his eyes to drift open. A dangling chain of drool curled onto his cheek as he propped himself on his elbows, the soft texture of the pillow lingering on his scuffed cheek as he took in his surroundings. A set of drawers were propped up in one corner, its surface stacked with a small potted plant, and a framed photo of a lighthouse sweeping its beam over crashing waves. Beside it was a sliding door, a tiled bathroom visible through the gap. A table and chair were the only other things decorating the room.

How had he wound up in a hotel, what had happened? It took a moment to regroup his memories. Sneaking around the siege camp, the pipe, the Baroness taunting him as those reinforced doors closed her off from him. His shoulders and neck ached like a motherfucker from power-napping with the armour still on, but the sense of refreshment coursing through his blood put such complaints to rest.

He swung his legs over the mattress, his boots touching soft carpet. As he rubbed his crusty eyes, his thoughts turned to that feeling that had woken him up, and part of him concluded it was a sensation born from being watched. He took another glance around the room, and this time he saw something else.

Hovering five feet above the ground was a drone, peering down at him with a bright, blue sensor that served as its eyepiece. Its circular body was about sixty centimetres in diameter, with its upper half composed of a white, smooth lid capping a set of hydraulic pincers with rubber-lined grippers. A quiet humming noise filled the room as its unseen propulsion systems kept it gently bobbing in the air.

"Fuck off, drone, I'm napping." He plopped back onto the bed, face-first.

"I know you've never been a morning person, but can't you make an exception for me, Seargent?"

He did a double take on the drone, eyebrows raising in recognition. "Eva? Where the Hell did you get a Dropper from?"

"You like it?" she asked, the lower pincers staying in place as she twirled the casing in a full three-sixty. "The engineers at the foundry had a couple lying around. I felt bad having Corporal Torres carry your helmet around all the time, so I had them upload a copy of myself into one. The sensor suite is a little rustic," she added, flexing her pincers at him. "but now that I have arms, my abilities have expanded tenfold compared to that cramped little helmet. If you'll turn your attention to the table, I think you'll agree with the sentiment."

She gestured with a pincer, a pile of steaming bacon with a side of poached eggs sat on a tray on the table, the crispy smell finally registering in Andreas' mind. Eva hummed in amusement as his prior tiredness was instantly erased, Andreas taking a seat before the food.

"Breakfast delivery? I think I'm all for this."

"Technically this is supper, you've been sleeping for thirteen hours."

He paused with a forked piece of bacon an inch from his lips, giving the drone an are you serious look. "Shit, thirteen? How come nobody woke me up?"

"A couple tried, but I had the door locked. I considered it a health risk to interrupt your sleep cycle – though it's more like a sleep scribble at this point. Few dirty looks from the senior officers, but they don't have the authority to order ARC around."

Andreas regarded the drone thoughtfully. She was usually a stickler for the rules, so imagining her sectioning off this room from the base's owners was an odd shift in character. Odd, but far from unpleasant.

"Thank you, Eva," he said. "Going through debriefing was the last thing on my mind once we got through the pipe. Still is."

"Thirteen hour-long naps are the least you deserve," Eva replied, hovering closer as Andreas dug into his meal. "You made it. It came down to the wire several times, what with all the leaping off buildings, blowing up nests, slicing through demonic hordes, all while having this estranged with that Baroness, but you made it, Seargent."

"Never doubted me for a second though, right?," Andreas asked, speaking between mouthfuls.

"Oh, no, I definitely had my doubts, especially when we were captured. But you pulled through, like always."

"Hey, we pulled through," he corrected. "It was a team effort. I don't know what I'd have done if you hadn't been there to reign me in when things got hairy."

"You'd likely still be out in the streets, fighting the good fight," she chuckled. "In all seriousness, the credit is yours. You're the one who was shot by eighty-seven fireballs, nearly a quarter of which hit or grazed you."

"Well that's going to change soon," Andreas said, smirking. "Now that you've got a drone, you can charge right into the line of fire with me."

"On second thought, being confined to your helmet wasn't all that bad," she mused, Andreas chuckling at her.

His meal was had double portions, but Andreas scoffed the meal down in a matter of minutes, Eva filling him in on what had happened while he was out. She had written up a digital report and used the Rallypoint's intranet to send a status update back to the carrier, and apparently the Admiral expressed relief upon hearing that he was still alive and well, and to continue the mission to the best of his ability.

He asked about Torres and the rest of his section – the ones that had come in on the dropships, Eva explaining that they were somewhere in the main headquarters.

"Commander Valeria is there too. Remember her?" Eva asked. "She wished to speak with you as soon as you woke up, so we can hit two birds with one stone if we go straight to her."

"Duty never stops calling, I guess," Andreas said, burping into his hand. As much as he enjoyed a hot meal and the warm bed, he knew that Sharrya was on the move right this moment, and he should do the same. "Lead the way, Eva. Wait," he added. "Where're my guns?"

"I took them to the armoury for cleaning and refitting," Eva explained, her drone tilting in his direction. "Don't give me that look. These people have been safeguarding the complex for months by themselves, you don't have to carry a gun everywhere you go."

He took her word for it, following the drone out into the hallway, shutting the door behind him. Eva floated off to the right, Andreas glancing back at the hatch that led out into the pipe, the sound of sloshing water very distant and quiet. As Torres had said, they must have flooded it once they were all safe inside.

The ward was a series of whitewashed hallways, arranged in perfect grids. Eva hovered at around chest height as she drifted around the corners, the intersections signed with arrows pointing to different sectors of the base. Wards from A through to D took up most of the list, along with Barracks and Security, but the one they followed was ICC.

After a few turns, Andreas saw a pair of men walking the other way. They were dressed like militia, wearing surplus armour with submachine guns slung over their shoulders, carrying themselves not quite like soldiers, but not quite like civvies either. They called him by name and rank as though they had just enlisted in his unit, regarding him with an awe that didn't sit right with Andreas. He gave them a curt nod and went on his way, but he could still feel their eyes on his neck long after.

At the next turn, three more people idled around a door, two men and a woman. Military surplus and close quarters weaponry was present also, and once again Andreas found himself being noticed and saluted, their displays of respect underlined by looks of surprise and reverence. Andreas decided to speak up once they were out of earshot.

"Why's everyone looking at me like I'm the al-Gaib or something?" Andreas asked.

"I told you," Eva said, her drone flying backwards as she turned her eye on him. "These people have had little to do but watch the world around them slowly be consumed. You can imagine how hard it was to hold onto hope that any of them would live through this seige. So when reports that a lone man fought through the hordes and destroyed a gore nest in the process gets around, well, you can imagine how people might see you as the next best thing to the Slayer's return."

"Don't tell me I have to give a speech or something."

"Once word starts to spread that you're awake, it may be possible the Commander would ask such a thing," she replied, spinning her chassis in a drone-version of an eyeroll. "Come on, Seargent, facing down a horde of imps while a Baron of Hell threatens to seduce you, that's nothing, but you're scared of speaking to a crowd?"

"I'm not scared," he insisted, but deep down, a part of his chest tightened with anxiety.

A couple passes with more militia groups later, and Eva was leading him down a corridor capped with a reinforced bulkhead, the frame flanked by two guards in black combat armour. They carried heavy assault rifles, their gear equivalent to his. This must be the way to the ICC.

Either the two guards recognised Eva's drone, or they knew who Andreas was, one of them turning to hit the control panel. They saluted crisply as the metal door opened up like the bars of a gate to a castle's keep.

As he stepped through, the glow of dozens of terminal screens reflected off the front of his armour, the climate-controlled air leaving a chilly taste in his throat. Most of the command centre's floorspace was taken up by concentric rings of polished desks, wide curved monitors and data projections lining their surfaces. Men and women typed furiously as they leaned over their workstations, the clacking of keys rising above the murmur of conversation. Instead of walls, a large monitor curled around the room, the display broken up into smaller sections to show numerous data feeds of the base's critical systems. A map of planet Earth dominated the majority of this display, with red blobs showing Hell's forces, and blue blobs for ARC's. There was a lot more of the former than the latter.

Beyond the terminal rings, circular tablets flanked the room, soldiers in combat gear pouring over maps and discussing among themselves, one of the groups catching Andreas' attention. About ten men were clustered around one such table, wearing black shirts with rolled up sleeves, and dark pants that ended just above their combat boots. Over their vests they wore tactical rigs with pockets full of weapons mags, and while most of their combat armour was missing, the ARC logo on their shoulders was easy to pick out.

When he looked at their faces, recognition bloomed inside him, and he suppressed a grin as he made his way over, going completely unnoticed even as he stood right behind one of the men.

"Stand up straight, Kowalksi. I'm gone for a couple days and you think that makes it okay to slouch?"

The Private, Kowalski, stood to attention without missing a beat. Then he furrowed his brow and glanced over his shoulder, his suspicion morphing to surprise.

"S-Seargent? Holy shit, man, it's good to see you!" He slapped the Seargent on the shoulder. "Hey, everyone, look who's back from the dead."

The team had been engrossed in their report, but now they were turning their attention to Andreas, the men lining up to welcome him back to the section. Among the Privates was their Corporal, the team leader explaining that the rest of the section was down in the canteen getting some R , and he'd let them know Andreas was up as soon as he could.

Once they'd all welcomed him back, they didn't waste time pressing him for details on what had happened since his dropship was shot down. Andreas did his best to fill them in on his journey, with Eva adding in her own comments, usually ones that explained in detail on how Andreas preferred to hold his ground rather than cede it.

This did not surprise the men in the slightest. In fact, the squad filled the command centre with laughter at the suggestion of retreat, the little drone scowling at them grumpily. They earned a few odd looks from the terminal operators, but the squad was too engrossed in his story to pay them any mind.

What did surprise them, was his interactions with Sharrya (he called her the Baroness, just to save face), and while some of them thought little of it, a few of their number regarded him with a keener interest. Perhaps they'd picked up on his subtle shift in tone when forced to discuss her, and how he didn't quite speak of her like she were a demon, but a combatant who was both skilled and cunning.

"You speak fondly of that Baron," a new voice said suddenly. New, but not unfamiliar. "For me, fondness is the last way I'd describe that puta."

Andreas turned around. A woman in a white, pristine uniform stood with her hands clasped behind her back, the dark trimmings of her belt and collar standing out against the ironed fabric. She looked older than Andreas by a few years, scars blemishing the sides of her face, the wounds giving her the look of a veteran.

Her brown hair was tied up in a neat bun, Andreas catching sight of it as she dipped her head in greeting. "You are Seargent Andreas, I recognise your voice. It is strange, that after all the suffrage Hell has caused us as a species, I expected antipathy for the Baron and her forces, not partiality."

Her dark eyes regarded him with a sliver of confusion, or maybe that was suspicion. He recognised that tone – Eva's complaints had run along the very same lines. Something told him he shouldn't be as flippant this time around. This Commander had been harassed by Hell's legions since day one, she'd no doubt lost people.

"Commander," Andreas began, bringing his hand up for a salute. He continued after she waved for him to be at ease. "It's true, I find the Baron's strategies commendable, but that's not because I'm sentimental. Fighting's only half the battle, studying your opponent is where the real fights are won."

"Know your enemy," she said. He had a feeling that was as close to agreement as she was willing to say. "The only thing I'd like to know about that Baron is how to kill her, but it is good to know ARC has professionals leading their teams. Welcome to Rallypoint Gamma, Seargent."

"Feels good to be behind some walls, Commander," he said, appraising the room.

"I'd imagine so after the lengths you took to get here. Mi fuerte es to fuerte. Anything you need, just ask."

"If you could give me and my section a target, I'd appreciate the hospitality."

The corner of Commander Valeria's lips curled. "You don't beat around the bush, do you? I was hoping ARC would send someone like you. Walk with me, I would speak with you. Privately."

"Just a moment, Commander," Andreas said. "Corporal."

One of the men from his section stepped forward. Andreas reached into his pack, and brought out a bundle of chainlinks. Hooked onto said chain links were silver tags with names printed into the metal.

"Keep these someplace safe," Andreas said, handing the dog tags over, the Corporal handling them like they were made of glass. "They're all that's left of my squad."

The Corporal made to pocket them, but the Commander held up a hand.

"You can take them to my personal office on level two, nobody but my most trusted are allowed there. May I also have the names of your dead? I made a promise to your Seargent that I would honour them."

The Corporal looked to Andreas, who nodded wordlessly. He followed after Valeria as she turned to the door, the Commander's leather shoes making crisp clicks against the floor.

"Thanks for that, Commander," he said as they stepped into the hallway beyond. One of the door guards followed, escorting at a few paces behind them.

"So many have fallen these days," Valeria muttered. "The few of us left should make time to pay respects."

Eva slipped through the closing doors just in time, her lens exchanging a glance with their bodyguard as she floated down the hall.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" Andreas prompted, Valeria pausing a moment before answering. She was a little shorter than he, her eyes level with his chin.

"Your superiors, ARC," she began. "When they answered my distress call, they made it abundantly clear that my country was beyond saving, and they insisted that our next course of action should be evacuation. Are you of the same opinion?"

"This on or off the record?" Andreas asked.

"You can speak freely in my Rallypoint, Seargent. ARC may have absorbed all of Earth's assets into itself, but I was in command here long before Samuel Hayden came back from his little trip to Mars Spain and its people are who I answer to first and foremost."

Seeing he wasn't about to be in for a reprimand, Andreas spoke his mind.

"Personally I like what you're doing here," he said. "There aren't many places out there that can hold their own without ARC support like you have. Earth's our home, it's about time we started taking it back."

"Couldn't have put it any better myself, Seargent. My demand to your superiors followed those very same lines. War cannot be one through retreat alone. Did they tell you much about what your mission here in the Rallypoint would be?"

"They were a little more vague than I'd like," he said, keeping up with her clean, measured strides. "They said we were to head out and lend you whatever assistance we could."

"-Within reason," Eva butted in. "And to ensure the safe delivery of our cargo."

"That too," Andreas added.

"Interesante. It does sound vague when you word it like that," Commander Valaria said. "And when do you return to your carrier?"

"Not until you're satisfied, I suppose."

"So, in a manner of speaking, you are now under my command, si?" she asked. "Your entire section as well?"

"The section answers only to the Corporals and the Seargent," Eva said, hovering urgently between their shoulders. "You're not even classified as ARC personnel, you can't give us orders."

"No, I'm not ARC," Valeria said, stopping at the next hallway to address the drone. "but the chain of command still applies, and as commanding officer of this facility, I'm responsible for every soul inside these walls, AI's notwithstanding. You've been ordered to assist me, which makes me your CO until the moment I relieve you."

Eva's drone made a series of stuttering noises. She seemed to have lost the computation power to form words.

"And it's all above board, too," Andreas mused. "Is that why you brought me out here? Want me to go let the boys down easy?"

"I want your personal involvement in the next stage of our operation," Valeria explained. "And don't look at me like that," she added, turning to Eva. "We are all in the same boat now, everyone must pick up a paddle."

"Very well," Eva sighed in resignation. "What would you have us do?"

Valeria pursed her lips in a small grin. "Row. Not to worry, I have the exact paddle in mind for you. You especially, Seargent, should find it most pleasing given what you've told me."

The Commander led the way down the left turn, Andreas lingering back for a second. Eva buzzed up beside his head and used her pincers to shrug at him. Told you what? she seemed to say, but Andreas only replied with a confused shake of his head.

After a few more turns, Valeria led them to another bulkhead, the reinforced door sliding open to reveal an expansive courtyard, rays of afternoon sunlight drawing dusty beams in the air.

Rectangles of pristine grass danced in yards of green, spaced by pathways of cobbles flanked with tall lampposts. Pockets of wildflowers and even a few trees with wide tops lived in these luscious patches, without a shred of demonic flesh or blood in sight, recollections of that park he'd come across flashing through his thoughts.

These pockets of Eden gave way to enormous structures, warehouses with sloping roofs hundreds of meters long and tall, along with other facilities capped with glass domes, their sizes rivalling that of mansions of palaces. The walls of the Rallypoint dominated the backdrop of it all, the fortifications making it seem Andreas was stood in the middle of a supersized prison.

The place they'd emerged from was a structure extruded from the base of the southern wall. Only a sign above the bulkhead gave it away, the ward camouflaged directly into the fortification. Valeria led him out into the middle of the yard, a pair of soldiers walking down the path the other way stopping to salute her.

Looking to his left, Andreas saw a groundskeeper tending to a small garden flanking a shallow pond, a trowel clutched in his gloved hand. For all they knew, that might just be the last natural pond in Spain, or maybe all of Europe.

"Since its inception, the Rallypoint's purpose was always to be a sanctuary," Valiera said as they walked. "Underground hydroponics bays, state-of-the-art water recyclers, nuclear generators for electricity, all of it hidden behind four walls of concrete lined with automatic aircraft guns. It all culminates as a point of safety for humanity, as its name suggests."

"And in order to maintain this safety, we were given blueprints to a robotics foundry, so that even our weaponry could be self-sufficient. Guns, vehicles, drones," she added with a pointed look to Eva. "We could print anything we needed, but without access to an income of raw materials, we could not do so indefinitely. Nor could we defend ourselves indefinitely."

"So you had ARC bring you a supply run," Andreas said, nodding in understanding. "I remember seeing one of the dropships getting loaded up with crates of alloys. You want to get this foundry up and running again."

"More than that, I want to turn this place from a Rallypoint, to a staging point. A dockyard for your fleet, and a beachhead to spear into the heart of Spain and the rest of Europe."

"That's a tall order, Commander," Andreas said, a hint of doubt in his voice. "There are bigger and badder demons out there that make Baron's look sweet in comparison."

"

"Fortunately for us, the foundry has allowed us access to 'bigger' and 'badder' things as well, as you will soon see."

Valeria was making her way to the warehouses on the far side of the complex, Andreas picking up the whirring of tools and the smell of copper as they drew closer. The one she was bringing him to rivalled the Rallypoint walls in terms of its size, the structure tens of storeys high. The massive door on its front side was yawned open, cargo trucks rolling in and out of the building, sticking the yellow lines painted on the stone before the entrance. The paths turned to stretches of road as they neared the barbed fence forming a perimeter around the warehouse.

Two armed guards stood at the end of the pathway, but they moved aside upon recognising the Commander, Andreas and Eva following her through a gap in the fence. They made a right turn, drawing into the warehouse, the bloom of the sun falling behind its slanted roof.

The interior of the warehouse was as vaulted as its exterior suggested, but the base personnel had made use of every square inch. Shelving units as tall as a house rowed the left and righthand sides, automatic forklifts weaving through the aisles, loaded with reinforced crates. These vehicles dumped their cargo off at the production lines centering the sheer space, where cables and beams drew metal webs over printing beds. Metal arms painted over in bright orange zipped across the beds, each sweep chased by hissing electronics. The way the arms swerved from one bed to the other as they completed their tasks was mesmerising in its fluidity.

Deeper into the complex, the clustered foundry opened up to a vacant floorplan, the space was wide and open as a stadium. There was something standing in the middle of the gallery, something massive, Andreas' jaw dropping as he beheld a titan.

A giant battlesuit stood in wait beneath a wireframe of gantries. A set of robotic legs upheld a pair of jointed legs, each one measurable to a grain silo. The toes were splayed into four flaps, with nozzles that looked like they'd been ripped straight off a jet plane built between the armour plates. It seemed to grow even larger as Andreas' eyes trailed upwards. There were two cockpit canopies on its torso, one on the sternum, and one where the head would be, the glass coloured a deep shade of crimson. Radar dishes and camera lenses were mounted behind the main cockpit, and to either side of this equipment were a pair of dual-barrelled turrets set atop the shoulders. Its armaments didn't end there. Missile silos were built into recesses all along its flat chest, coupled with automatic gun turrets jutting from the belly and oblique areas. Its biggest weapon was the right arm, where the elbow joint gave way to a railgun barrel the size of which he'd only seen on ARC battleships. The left arm was more comparable to a human hand, save for the forearm attachment that looked suspiciously like an underbarrel grenade launcher.

The battlesuit was painted over in a matte grey colour highlighted with orange strips, standing at forty meters tall. Meters of room separated it from the ceiling, and this only seemed to add to the behemoth's size.

"Holy shit…" Andreas muttered, Valeria letting slip a small grin at his bewilderment. "You built a first gen mech?"

"At considerable cost, and at the expense of the last of our alloy reserves," Valeria affirmed. "We faced considerable delays during the evacuation efforts and the constant sieges, but now that things have somewhat calmed, it's almost ready, bar a few critical components."

"I take back what I said, you can do some real damage with one of these on hand."

Valeria led him closer, he and Eva weaving between the production lines for a closer look. A sense of vertigo dreamed over the mech as he craned his neck to look at it in its entirety. Samuel Hayden, ARC's founder, had personally designed the blueprints for planetwide distribution some years ago, though where he had gotten the inspiration for such never before seen weaponry had never been disclosed.

"I have been keeping this card close to my chest, so to speak," Valeria added. "Its existence is only known to a handful of people, and I've had this particular part of the foundry as automated as possible to prevent an information leak. We've had issues in the past of demonic brainwashing."

"So why're you showing me this?" Andreas asked, turning his attention to the Commander.

"This will be the spearhead of our new offensive, and I want you to be personally involved when it's time."

"You… want me to pilot that thing?" Andreas asked.

"You have shown dedication, resilience, and exceptional ability getting here in one piece. You even said yourself you lean more towards offense than defence. I can think of no one more suited to becoming a mech pilot."

"Commander, you have me sold," Andreas said, cracking his knuckles. "I've always wanted to take a first gen for a twirl."

"Oh, I didn't mean would be piloting the gen one, Seargent. That one is yours."

Andreas searched either side of the mech, but he couldn't see any more battlesuits. That was, until his gaze lowered, his expression of excitement dwindling as he spotted a second, far smaller mech. This one was painted in olive green camouflage, its composition similar to the first gen, only scaled down to about a fifth of its size. The top of its cockpit skirted maybe six meters, maybe more.

"What the-? You show me this monster and then tell me I get the fun-size one?" Andreas sulked, Eva floating over to pat him on the shoulder with a manipulator.

"Seargent, gen ones are crewed by eight individuals, each having to go through six months of training at the minimum. A gen two is far easier to pilot in comparison, being a single-seater."

"We only had so much material to spare after completing the chassis of the gen one," Valeria explained. "but if you're not happy with the mech, Seargent..."

"No no I'll take it," Andreas butted in. "Any suit's better than no suit."

"Good. Now, Eva has told me you still possess the cargo from your dropship. Do you have it with you?"

Andreas nodded, he'd brought his pack with him after Eva's breakfast. He produced the two glass spheres, the argent shards suspended in their very centres, wisps of energy flowing from the metal like flames off a campfire.

After days of handling such delicate (and unstable) cargo, it felt good to relieve them, knowing that the delivery part of his mission had been a success.

"For such limitless sources of energy, they are such tiny things," Valeria mused, holding a shard up to the light. "With just one of these, we can power that gen one for fifty years straight. Double that for the gen two. Eva tells me you lost the third one," Valeria added, her eyes fixing on his. He could swear a hint of suspicion was lying beneath that gaze.

"Ah, that's right. I only had enough time to grab two," he lied. "Crash site was getting swarmed by the time I came too."

That suspicion subsided, replaced with understanding.

"I'd have preferred to power both the gen two's we've fabricated, but you're not to blame, Seargent. Two mechs will suffice. They have to."

The Commander pocketed the shards, returning her hands to their neatly clasped position.

"We should bring these down to R , make sure they're ready to be plugged into the suit reactors. You can start getting a feel for your mech as soon as we get the go ahead," Valeria said. "I plan to move forward with this new offensive in three days' time, so there's no need to rush over just yet."

"Actually, there is a need to rush. Three days is too long, Commander."

Valeria and Eva shared a glance, the Commander gesturing at him. "And what makes you think that, Seargent? Does my schedule not align with yours?"

"From what I've heard, you know who Sharrya is, right? The Baron of Hell who leads the demons in the city?"

"I know one or two things about her," Valeria admitted, folding her arms pointedly. "Though, I wasn't aware of her name. How do you know that?"

"She's intercepted me more than once as I made my way over here," he explained. "We've gotten a little familiar with each other since."

"In more ways than one," Eva whispered, Andreas shooting her a look.

"What are you getting at, Seargent?" Valeria asked.

"I think I've figured her out. Not too much, but enough to know what her gameplan is. She made it her personal mission to see me dead after the nest. She followed right up to the pipe your man Torres led me through. We had a few chats along the way, she's proud, stubborn, aggressive."

"You talked with her?" Valeria gawked. "What could a human and a demon have to discuss?"

He didn't think Valeria would come take too kindly with the truth, of the kinds of advancements Sharrya had made on him, so he paused to make up something she'd believe instead.

"She likes to gloat," he replied. "She was sure she'd had me cornered a couple times, but it was that arrogance I took advantage of, what we should take advantage of. Shar… the Baroness, has it out for me, and I wouldn't be surprised if she's mustering every demon under her command for another siege. She'll be back, sooner rather than later. We need to be ready before she is."

"She has not struck at our walls in months," Valeria countered. "How can you be sure?"

He made to answer, but Eva spoke up first.

"I've been analysing the Baroness also. If looks would kill, Andreas would be dead on the spot. As such, there is a significant chance that the Baron and her demons will retaliate before this three-day time plan you have set. With this knowledge, a pre-emptive strike would increase our chances of catching them off-guard, especially with a pair of mechsuits."

"Very well, I trust the judgement of a supercomputer, and you as well, Seargent. You know this Baroness more than anyone."

"Yes, he knows she's interested in his-" Eva's voice morphed into a surprised – 'oof!' – as Andreas nudged the drone with his elbow.

"In any case," Valeria added, producing a phone from her pocket. "I must inform the officers about this change of plan. Go take a look at your mech while I make a call, then we can head down to R ."

Andreas saluted her, one she returned. When she was out of earshot, phone pulled up to her ear, Andreas turned to Eva, his distorted reflection visible in her lens.

"You didn't tell her the truth about the third shard," he noted.

"Seargent, I may be a lot of things, but I'm not a tattle. If you think my reaction to you shooting at an Argent shard was bad, the Commander's would have been far worse. She definitely would not have given you a mech to play with if she knew."

"Thanks, Eva."

She would have grinned if her drone possessed the will, her tone turning sly as she hovered closer.

"What you said about manipulating Sharrya, was that true?" she asked. "Have you been goading the Baroness into being reckless this entire time, or was that you flirting with her?"

"A little of both," he answered. "But back at the pipe, she basically handed me her next move on a silver platter. I played her like a… like a string puppet."

"Thank goodness you didn't say hand puppet. I already know you want to put your arm up her behind, Seargent, I don't need a reminder."

Andreas retracted away from her as though she'd physically struck him. "Damn, Eva!" he said, his laughter echoing down the noisy foundry. "The fuck did that come from?"

"I could hardly call you out in front of your new boss, could I?" she replied. "And it's the new body, I'm still getting used to having a metaphysical presence."

"You're not the only one with a new look. Come on, let's go check out the mech."

Eva floated beside him as they made their way across the gallery, Andreas unable to help but gawk at the far larger first-generation suit. He'd give his arm and a leg for the chance to crush some demons with that thing.

"Why do you think I want to do that to Sharrya's ass anyway?" he asked.

"From the way you look at it."

"Eva, that's not… I'm not into that sorta thing, and I doubt Sharrya is too… is she?"

"Bozo. I'm sure you'll ask her the next time you see her," she teased.

"Alright, alright. Even outside the suit you're still a pain."

"Technically not true. A copy of my algorithm resides within this drone. The rest of me is still in your gear."

"Fantastic..."

They followed the yellow-striped pedestrian lanes across the gallery, pausing by the ankle of the first generation mech, its size comparable to a flatbed truck. The second generation battlesuit had all the scope of a toy soldier, but that was only because of Andreas' bias towards its bigger, older brother. Standing at five meters tall at the shoulder, the mech was a diminutive replica of the far bigger suit, though there were a few key differences. Its build was far more sleek, its edges rounded out to give a more smooth appearance. Its thin limbs allowed more manoeuvrability at the cost of its sturdiness, but that didn't mean the hull was fragile by any means. It was more comparable to a walking tank, and it had the weaponry to compliment the fact.

Like its larger predecessor, the right limb was comprised of a whole weapon, Andreas noting the copper coils ringing its length through gaps in the mechanics. It was longer than he was tall, and from what he knew about railgun weapons, this was not one of them.

"That is a particle cannon," Eva noted, her drone swerving up to where the cannon joined to the chassis. "capable of delivering a superheated pulse of energy in short, infrequent bursts. See the heatsinks on the side, here? A single shot generates enough heat to melt aluminium."

Andreas nodded in approval, though he still shot glances at the gen one every couple moments. "I've always been partial to energy weapons. What kind of damage can it dish out?"

"Aside from melting anything set in the path of the beam? The shot is followed up by a secondary blast as the beam dissipates. The explosive is equivalent to six of your plastic explosive bricks. That's slightly bigger than what you did to the gore nest."

Now Andreas voiced his impressiveness in the form of a whistle, earning the glance of a few nearby engineers wearing high-vis overalls.

"It's no BFG, but I can make do with that," Andreas said.

The centrepiece of the mech was the cockpit, the canopy made of three narrow, red-tinted windows. They didn't provide much of a field of view, but there were no doubt cameras all over the chassis that could be visible from the inside. Above the cockpit, a driving lamp crowned the mech, the high-beams currently switched off. Below it, a pair of chainguns were mounted onto the sternum, Andreas guessing they were fifty calibres. The last of its armaments was on the opposite prosthetic limb, where below a giant metal fist was a serrated knife, the wrist-blade longer than a spear. It seemed the builders had designed gen two's to fight at range as well as close-quarters.

"This model slightly differs from the base ARC mech," Eva mused as she floated over its shoulders. The left hardpoint should be a ranged weapon, not a fist with a knife, but it should prove adequate in the event a demon should get too close."

"It'll be more than adequate," Andreas said. "There's enough firepower here to take out a mancubus … or a Baron."

-xXx-

Research and Development was the facility situated behind the foundry warehouses, the footprint of its box-shaped structure taking up less room than a church, but the reason for this was because most of its contents were belowground. The surface access was mostly barren, save for a kiosk and an access lift. The lift was industrial-grade, big enough to fit a forklift on the platform with room to spare.

As Valeria led him and Eva into the elevator and thumbed the key labelled 1, he guessed the first level was fifty feet deep, but the facility must run triple that depth judging by the numbers on the panel.

A delicate ding announced their arrival, Andreas following Valeria out into a carpeted room. Filing cabinets and office terminals were propped up against the sterile-white walls, open archways to the left and right leading to adjacent rooms, their signage marking them as Laboratories one through to six.

There was a desk off to one side of the lift, and despite the racket it caused when it pulled up to the level, the woman typing away at her terminal didn't look up at the newcomers. She wore a white lab coat with a blue tie wrapped over her collar, one hand reaching up to push up her black-rimmed glasses as the other continued to clack away on the keyboard.

"Selena, I have the shards you requested at long last," Commander Valeria said, reaching into her coat for the glass spheres. "Drop that last project we talked about, getting these shards ready is top priority."

"Valeria!" the young woman, Selena, said, her eyes a pretty shade of blue, and blazed with startlement. These two must be familiar if they weren't referring to each other by rank. "The Argent shards, of course! Thank you, ma'am."

"Don't thank me, it was Seargent Andreas here who did the heavy lifting."

"Oh! Seargent, hello," Selena greeted, flashing him a meagre smile, one she broke before he even had a chance to return it. She must not get out of these labs very much. She turned back to the Commander. "Lab four is still prepped, like you requested, we can begin running diagnostics immediately."

"How long will that take?" Valeria asked. "I need the mech reactors powered as soon as possible."

"I'm not sure. An hour, maybe?" she replied. Like Valeria, Selena's Spanish accent had her rolling her R's. "Are we expecting an attack?"

"It's very likely," was all Valeria was willing to say, and Selena seemed to get the message, shutting off her terminal and proceeding down the passage on the left side of the room. As they passed over the small lip in the threshold, the floor took on an unbroken, ceramic texture, the lab illuminated by light strips running across the ceiling in an unbroken line, a warm breeze brushing his face Andreas followed the two women inside. A quiet, humming sound filled the lab. At first he thought it was air conditioning, but as he looked up at the little grills built into the walls at head height, he realised they were air recyclers, pumping cool, fresh air from the surface.

There were two men gathered around a workstation at the far side of the lab, also wearing white coats, and Selena called them over, holding up the shards and relaying Valeria's orders. They wasted no time in bringing them over to a strange device propped up in the corner of the room. It looked like a photo-copy machine, except its surface was comprised of a capsule that looked suspiciously like the argent canisters that his dropship had been ferrying before it had crashed. Selena popped the glass spheres into the capsule, and with a button press, glass windows sealed over the container, and the glass balls began to suspend in the air.

Readouts started appearing on the machine's surrounding monitors, Andreas thinking of heartrate monitors he'd seen in hospitals, the three scientists muttering among themselves as they got to work, Valeria watching them over their shoulders. Andreas wandered over to the other side of the lab. Where another bulkhead separated an adjacent room, Andreas spotting a dash of moving colour through the door window.

The doors didn't slide open at his approach, a glance at the retinal scanner nearby confirming a level of security was required to pass through, and the reasons were obvious after a few moments. Lining one side of the hallway beyond were a series of containment units, their glass cylinders stretching from floor to ceiling.

There were things inside some of these pods.

Every second or third container along, demons idled behind the glass in various states of agitation. An imp was raking its blunt claws along the glass in furious swipes inside one, a whiplash flicked its cybernetic tail in agitation in another, slithering around its prison in slow loops, its eyes zeroing in on any hint of movement. There were a couple of zombies too, and at the far end of the room, the last pod along housed an ethereal humanoid, Andreas able to see the wall through its transparent body. This was a spirit, and Andreas had only seen their caste in pictures. They were ghosts through and through, able to possess any demon and grant them unnatural resilience. He wondered how they managed to capture one.

"We used to run tests on any wounded demons we could safely recover from the field," Valeria said, standing beside him as he peered into the containment room. "Autopsies, mostly, a few live fire exercises as well, anything that could give us an edge."

"We had something like this back at a research base I used to work at," Andreas explained. "They broke out once and we lost control of the whole facility. Hope that doesn't happen here."

"I'm guessing you did not have a suppression field in place," Valeria said, dipping into an explanation when he shook his head. "It's an invisible bubble surrounding the Rallypoint. Any demon caught inside it has its powers significantly reduced, and it also prevents portals opening inside its radius. It's one of Samuel Hayden's inventions, so don't bother asking me how it works. As for the pods, they're reinforced with alloys imported from Mars, which are also owned by Hayden. They're not breaking out unless the field shuts down."

"How's the suppression field powered?" Andreas asked.

"What do you think? It's Argent shard compatible, and can run uninterrupted for eighty years straight before needing a replacement. I'd show you the generator, but even I need to go through five levels of security just to access it."

Across from the containment pods, the wall was lined with reinforced doors, Andreas asking the Commander where they led. She explained they were holding cells, where demons could be stored before security transported them to other parts of the base.

"How do you move them around?" Andreas asked.

Valeria led him over to a nearby cabinet, pulling one of its swinging doors open. Inside was a wall mounted rack with a dozen odd devices suspended on the hooks, Valeria lifting one that looked somewhat like a pillory, with two holes for securing one's wrists.

"We place their containment pods on a trolley, or we use these for the more compliant subjects," Valeria said, handing him the shackles. They were heavy duty, the bands inches thick and made from solid steel. Magnetic hardpoints ringed around the clamps, the locking mechanism must be electronic.

"I struggle to imagine that," Eva noted, hovering between their shoulders. "A demon would fight to its death before being cuffed by one of those."

"You'd be surprised how docile a combination of the suppression field, sedatives, and electric shock therapy can make them," she replied. "After a few days of capture, most of them just stand there, like their brains have switched off. One time a scientist even touched the shoulder of an imp and it didn't even flinch."

Andreas handed the shackles back, Valeria securing them in the cabinet. "Selena's work will take some time, Seargent. If you wish to return to your quarters, I'll send for you once the shards are ready."

"I think I'll stick around here for now," Andreas replied. "No point walking off if I'm just going to come back again."

"I too, wish to stay and study some of your equipment," Eva said. "If that's alright with you, Commander?" she added, a little more tactful than Andreas was.

"Bueno," Valeria said. "Just make sure you put anything you touch back the way it was. Selena and her team are picky like that. If ARC was good on their promise, you'll be in your mech before you know it Seargent."

-xXx-

Andreas spent the next day familiarising himself with all the mech's capabilities, with Eva and a couple of the engineers giving him pointers. His already scuffed sleeping schedule had seen him stay awake during the night but sleeping through the days, leaving him with little to do but wonder the base during lights-out.

There's been a few mishaps during his mech induction course, and he had even toppled the battlesuit over, forcing one of the workers to fetch a crane, and a part of him wasn't sure if one day of training would be enough. They hadn't even let him use the particle cannon to see its true capabilities, but Eva insisted that he wouldn't be disappointed when the time came to use it, and he trusted her judgement.

His wonderings took him up one of the walls, the westward wind hitting his face as he emerged from the service lift. The floor panel inside it had about thirty buttons, tiers of facilities built into the outer wall like books on a shelf. Andreas wouldn't even place a restroom so close to where bombardment was likely to strike, but he guessed space was a commodity in the Rallypoint.

There was a guard stationed just outside the lift, a service pistol and rifle strapped to his combat armour. He offered Andreas a familiar nod, kind one reserved for regulars, although Andreas had never been up on the walls yet. He didn't fancy himself a celebrity, but everyone seemed to know who he was all the same.

Looking left, the length of the rampart stretched on and on, until it terminated at a corner a couple hundred meters out. Running along the boardwalk at regular intervals were the buttresses he had seen on his way in from the ground, each one a bunker in its own right. He could see turrets mounted on hardpoints bristling all along their three outer faces, with their roofs occupied by radio antennae and other sensory equipment. Along the inner face of the boardwalk was a waist-high wall, there to provide a safety net from the sheer drop into the courtyard.

On the right, the view was the same, except the walk along the wall only stretched a few dozen meters before it met the corner, the vector change occupied by a plateau, with one of those great guns sitting upon it. Soldiers milled about along the outer wall, some dipping into the bunkers, others peering out into the city through scopes or binoculars.

Andreas made his way down the right side, the metal thrumming with each touch of his boots. It was just after four in the morning, the sun grazing the sky, the skies turning a mysterious shade of pink with its welcome. The skies were still congealed with clouds of endless soot, making the heavens seem much closer than they really were. If the wall were twice as high, Andreas might have been able to pass through the wisps of cloud. No wonder all these people felt cut off from the rest of the planet, his senses were convinced he was stuck inside of a box of smoke.

The plateau which supported the heavy anti-air gun was ringed with a warning radius, there to stop people from being clocked by its lamppost-sized barrels. Like the mechs, the gun emplacement was gigantic, as big as a house.

There was no visible place for the controls that he could see, the controls were likely right beneath it, or in some of the more secured facilities dotting the courtyard. Perhaps it was fully automated by an AI like Eva.

There were no safety barriers on the plateau's outer edges, perhaps that was intentional, so the gun could have as wide a firing arc as possible. Andreas got as close to the edge as he dared, a lump forming in his throat. He thought that jump from the rooftop might have gotten his fear of heights in order, but it seemed he had a few more leaps of faith before that happened.

From this height, he could see the full destruction of the city in all its infested glory. Craters and urban ruins formed endless bands of rings in all directions, forming a skyline that to Andreas, appeared like the metal jaws of a cyberdemon. While the direction Andreas had travelled in on foot from was a mix of intact and blasted ruins with more of the former than the latter, the same could not be said for the other cardinal directions. Building blocks to the east looked like they'd been subjected to nuclear blasts, craters hundreds of feet wide pockmarking the concrete grids. A mountain chain scabbed over a section of the metal maze to the northeast, casting great pools of shadow over that portion of the city. Towers and skyscrapers had once dominated the wealthier districts, but now only their foundations remained, their long bodies draped over the streets like shattered corpses.

Draped over most of this doomed vista was a shade of unsettling pink, its colour like that of gums with the skin peeled off. It wasn't as apparent closer to the Rallypoint, but it dominated a couple miles out towards the skyline, forming a sea of flesh mingling with the broken metal. If Andreas unfocused his eyes, he could see movement out there, little microshifts that weren't demons or humans, but the flesh itself, squirming in tidal ripples. It was like watching grubs wriggle in poisoned grass, the sight making his skin crawl.

He turned his eyes downward, peering over the drop towards the encampments sieging the walls. Commander Valeria had informed him that they had seen very little activity in the camps aside from the occasional departing demon, leaving only skeleton crews hugging the walls. Even the winged demons had stopped their attempts at coming down on the Rallypoint from directly above, which she had told him were very regular occurrences.

She's preparing, Andreas thought. No two ways about it.

He remembered the Baroness mentioned something about her cathedral, Andreas wondering what kinds of surprises she'd pull out for her coming attack, and if she had anything that could compare to the battlesuit's Valeria had kept under the rug this whole time. He had a feeling the forty-meter-tall mech would catch the Baroness off-guard.

Perhaps she'd be stunned just long enough for the mech pilots to finish her off for good. She was as tough as bricks, but even she would be vapourised if she got caught in the path of a railgun or particle cannon.

He frowned at the image, the thought of Sharrya reduced to a pile of ash troubling him. Sharrya was his enemy, just like Eva always tried to remind him – she was responsible for this hellscape that had overcome Spain, and yet he didn't harbour as much hatred for her as he should have. If he had grown up here, he'd share the same hatred, but he didn't share the same prejudices as Valeria or her men did.

He'd only known Sharrya for a few days, and while she was on the opposite side of this war, she was more a rival than his sworn enemy. A mindless demon would have cut him down the moment the chance arose, yet her obsession with him was born from intrigue, not malice, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't reciprocate said interest.

He closed his eyes, conjuring up the image of her feminine silhouette, how her pronounced curves drew her muscular form into a streamlined hourglass shape despite her brawn. Andreas had to admit it was a little flattering to be hit on by someone at the very peak of personal physique, even if she had the lower half of a goat, although her fur looked very soft…

Andreas shook his head, dispelling such thoughts. As Eva had said, he had to stop thinking with his 'thingy', and look at the bigger picture. Sharrya had made his journey more interesting than not, but she had her side, and he had this, there was nothing to be done about that. Still, it would be a shame to watch her die, and this war wouldn't end until either she did or these walls fell. There was no other option… was there?

He had to wait until the operation was in full swing, the coming fight could go either way. Sharrya didn't know about the mechs, of that he was ninety percent positive, but likewise, they didn't know what Hell had provided Sharrya with.

All he could do was meet her on the field, protect as many people as he could. Sharrya might offer him lenience, but that lenience did not extend to the Spanish people. Mutual intrigue or not, he would do everything in his power to see the civilians through this mess.