Shackles of the Past

[lawna]

Marcus hadn't seen Monica since Sunday, so he decided that once he got off of work and got cleaned up, he would head over to see what the teenage drama forecast was for today. Maybe one of Monica's friends had copied her hair style again.

Once walking down the sidewalk toward Zrion's house, he heard the crowd before he saw it. There was a lot of shouting back and forth, but he couldn't pick up on what was being said. Then he saw the whole crowd of people on the sidewalk furthest away from the house, and in the street.

The house itself was pretty alarming, the front door had been blown off, and there were people with arms of their own, entering it.

'Well, it was rather rude of Zrion not to invite me over to his block party,' Marcus idly thought, while already changing direction. He cut between some houses down the street from Zrion's and started running, aiming for the back door that wasn't often used.

He saw the swiss cheese like door was barely hanging on it's hinges, and the thought of strangers shooting at the house his daughter lived in made him want to break Zrion's neck for letting it happen. However, more than likely, this hadn't been asked for, probably not provoked by Zrion himself, so Marcus decided that whatever this was, he would first get his daughter to safety, and then help his friend however he could.

He dashed to the back of the house, and stood on the left edge of the door frame, close enough to cautiously peer in and see that the hallway had become barricaded in a couple of spots, mostly toward the front of the house and the kitchen. He already saw the half dozen dead bodies laying on the floor, and shook his head. He hadn't seen carnage like this in some time. What a waste of perfectly good human life.

There were volleys of bullets going back and forth in the house, and he regretted his lack of weaponry. Not like he could just go in and ask Zrion if he could join the party, Marcus blended in too much with all these other random citizens. Zrion would put a bullet or two in him, just for catching him by surprise. Besides, he had to find out where Monica was, and if she was ok.

The door to his daughter's room wasn't open wide, but it wasn't shut, locked and/or barricaded the way he imagined it would be if Monica was inside. Marcus also doubted anyone else was in there, as all of Zrion's attention was directed toward the front of the house, and the little group of people he was dropping.

Either way, Marcus finally took the opportunity to duck through the back door, walk against the wall quickly and quietly, so neither the rebels or Zrion would put a bullet in him, and Marcus made it to Monica's room.

He shut the door behind him, and immediately decided this had been the wrong room, he should have attempted Zrion's, where there were actually weapons to fight with. Maybe he could stab someone in the eye with one of the heeled shoes Monica had in her closet and hardly ever wore.

He finally cracked the door open when the gun firing finally slowed and stopped. Marcus was aware that the door swung the wrong way, into the room, so he had to almost stick his head out to see his surroundings.

He was right though, there were no more rebels that he could see, and Zrion's back was against one of the hall way walls, attention still on the front door.

'Time to make my presents known.' Marcus thought, but didn't know how to do it exactly. He wasn't about to go out and hug that defensive machine out in the hallway.

Marcus' eyes flitted around the room, and finally lighted on Monica's shoe collection. She had enough of them anyway, a pair lost was better than nothing.

Marcus picked a one out of a pair of old pink ones that Monica hadn't worn in a while, cracked the door open, and threw it down the hall way, only for it to be greeted by gun shots, then silence.

"It's Marcus." Marcus shouted, as even his limited time of being in the house had his head and ears ringing. "Where's Monica? Where's my daughter Zrion?"

[Darkjak87]

Zrion blinked a few times while the words registered. In truth, he was surprised he heard them at all - between his ringing ears and the adrenaline rushing through his veins, he wasn't feeling very reasonable at the moment. Inwardly, he was thankful that Marcus had been smart enough to not just rush out - Accidentally killing Monica's dad would not earn him any points with her.

"Marcus?" Zrion called. "It's clear, you can come out."

As soon as the man presented himself, Zrion beckoned him over to his barricade, where both of the men crouched down behind cover. "Monica's out," Zrion explained. "Never thought I'd say this, but thank god for that, otherwise she'd be in the middle of all this."

He stood up slightly, peeking over the barricade to see if the rebels were making another move yet. Upon seeing nothing, he crouched back down. "Rebels," Zrion explained shortly. "They're here to kill me. Hasn't exactly worked out that way though," he said, smirking slightly.

"Still, they aren't screwing around. You know how to use a gun?" Zrion queried. Before Marcus could answer, Zrion had already pulled his pistol from his holster and shoved it into his surprised hands. "Nevermind. It's pretty easy, just point and shoot, preferably not at me or Zephan."

"Especially not Zephan," the ottsel added.

"Anyway, explanations later, I think there's another wave coming," Zrion said in a rush, turning back toward the front door and shouldering his rifle.

True to his word, they could hear shouted orders as another group approached the barricaded entrance. The last squad had tried to shove everything out of the way, but as it turned out, bullets tended to make such things difficult.

Zrion frowned when no one presented themselves. What were they up to? He got his answer a moment later when a pair of canisters were tossed into the hall from either side of the door.

"Shit! Flashbangs!" Zrion shouted. "Cover your eyes!"

Marcus and Zrion quickly ducked down, mere moments before the stun grenades went off. Fortunately, they had reacted in time to avoid being blinded, but the loud 'bang' still deafened them.

Letting loose a string of curses that he could barely hear anymore, Zrion stood back up just in time to see the first rebel climbing over the barricade. Seeing Zrion taking aim at him, the man gave an alarmed shout before three rifle rounds tore through his chest, causing him to tumble backwards and out of sight.

By then, the rebels were getting fed up by the obstacle, and another canister, this one more spherical in appearance, was tossed in.

"Grenade!" Zrion warned, ducking back down behind cover. The explosion blasted apart the barricade a moment later, clearing the way for the rebels.

Zrion immediately stood back up, firing a long burst of gunfire without taking the time to aim. None of the shots connected, but it did cause the rebels to scatter, taking cover in the rooms branching off from the hall.

A few moments passed in tense silence, Zrion kneeling down behind the barricade, rifle aimed steadily down the hall. The rebels, for their part, knew better than to try their luck, and remained out of sight, resulting in an impasse.

"This must be how soldiers play Chicken," Marcus muttered, doing his best to imitate Zrion's stance. He wasn't a professional, but he had handled weapons before, and he knew the basics at least. As long as there weren't any more surprises like those stun grenades, he'd be able to keep up.

Without warning, a rebel swung around from the doorway on the left, aiming his blaster down the hall and sending several bolts of yellow eco toward the barricade. A split-second later, another agent on the opposite side copied the action, knowing that Zrion wouldn't be able to kill both of them before the shots forced him back into cover.

Zrion snapped off a burst at the one on his right, catching him in the leg before he could slide back into cover. However, Zrion didn't see the other one, as he was standing squarely in his blind spot. Luckily, Marcus seemed to realize this, and he quickly steadied his breathing and fired at the other rebel. Two shots went wide, but a third caught the rebel in a shoulder, causing him to shout in pain and fall onto the floor.

Zrion, surprised by the shots, glanced at Marcus before turning his attention toward the rebel now laying on the floor. Well...Looks like I owe him one, Zrion reflected.

"Thanks," Zrion said gratefully. Of course, at this point, Marcus might not even be able to hear him, but he meant it just the same.

"Okay...now!" one of the remaining rebels shouted. Shouting battle cries, another pair stormed out into the hallway, charging toward Zrion and Marcus and firing their weapons wildly.

Zrion, having seen similar tactics from Metal Heads, knew exactly how well it tended to work. Taking aim, Zrion put several shots into the rebel on his left, making sure to keep him in his line of sight.

Seeing his companion fall, the remaining rebel shouted a curse, dropped his weapon and turned tail to run away.

“Over here, you forgot your bullets!” Zrion called after him. “Take some of mine!” A burst of gunfire punctuated the taunt, and the rebel stumbled and fell, a fresh trio of breathing holes in his back.

“You’re welcome!” he said cheerfully.

“Zrion…have I ever said you’re kind of screwed up in the head?” Zephan asked.

“Yes. Constantly, in fact,” Zrion said flatly.

“Well, this is why,” Zephan said pointedly.

Rolling his eyes, Zrion made sure the coast was clear before standing back up, resting his rifle against his shoulder. The rebels that were only wounded were still breathing, but Zrion ignored them as he carefully made his way toward the front door. He pressed himself to the wall next to it, and cautiously peered around. To his relief, the crowd was now gone, apparently having either charged to their deaths or scattered after seeing that their plan wasn't exactly working.

"Okay, looks like they're all gone," Zrion panted, making his way back toward the barricade. The house was in complete ruin at this point, but at least they had survived the experience.

While Zrion and Marcus were catching their breath, a sudden shout from the next room drew their attention.

“Argh! Let me down, you little weasel!” someone shouted. “You’re pissing me off! You won’t like me when I’m pissed off!”

“I don’t like you now,” Zephan retorted.

A moment later, and the ottsel emerged from Zrion’s bedroom, a rebel restrained by a green aura floating along behind him. Zephan levitated the man over in front of Zrion and Marcus, and abruptly the glow vanished, allowing the man to fall face-down onto the floor with a loud ‘thunk’.

“Oops,” Zephan said uncaringly. “Found him in your room,” he said to Zrion. “Probably hoping to catch you by surprise.”

Zrion scowled at the rebel laying on the floor in front of him. He might've been disarmed, but the soldier was feeling particularly vindictive at the moment. If it hadn't been for Marcus' disapproving look, he would have been sorely tempted to shoot him anyway.

Instead, Zrion hoisted him up by the collar and stared him down. "How the hell did you people find out who I am?" he demanded. The agent was clearly afraid, but kept his mouth shut. Zrion glared at him for a few more moments, then abruptly let go, allowing the agent to fall back to the floor with a pained grunt.

"Alright, we need information from this guy," Zrion said, turning to face Marcus and Zephan, who didn't look much happier than he did at the moment. "Any suggestions?"

Zephan blinked. “Why are you asking us? Don’t you have experience in this kind of thing?”

“Well, I do have a few ideas, but he wouldn’t survive most of them, and we need him to be able to talk,” Zrion explained.

“Charming,” Zephan snipped. “Well, we could always try rubber-hose cryptanalysis.”

"What?"

"Whipping him until he tells us who to shoot.”

"I like how you think," Zrion commented, giving the agent the smile that he usually reserved for the staff at the DMV.

"I don't have anything handy, though, so how about this," he continued, crossing his arms and looking down at the rebel. "Tell me how you found out who I am, and you might get a life sentence instead of a summary execution."

"Fuck you, I’m not telling you anything,” the rebel snarled.

"I hear the Baron’s been funding some genetic alternation research too,” Zrion said thoughtfully. “I bet they could use some test subjects. I might even get a bonus for donating you.”

“Seriously, fuck you,” the rebel deadpanned.

By then, he was running out of patience. “Tell me what I want to know, or I will turn you into a scorch mark!” Zrion snarled, the room heating by ten degrees as a yellow aura erupted around him.

"Roman!" came the panicked reply, stunning the room into silence. "Roman told us! He's with us!"

Zrion's aura disappeared abruptly as his anger with momentarily directed elsewhere. "That little shit," Zrion growled. "I knew there was something off about him." Then he froze, eyes widening in realization. "But he's with Monica..."

The next thing the rebel knew, the barrel of Zrion's pistol was pressed against his head. "WHERE IS SHE?!" he roared.

"I don't know!" the agent shouted desperately. "I had nothing to do with it! I was only sent to kill you!"

“Way to get on his good side,” Zephan snarked.

"What have you done to her?!" Zrion demanded.

"Roman knocked her out, took her to a safehouse! I don't know where! Please, don't kill me!" The rebel pleaded.

Zrion continued glaring at the rebel for a few more seconds, before relenting and standing back up. "Alright, I believe you. But I want you to know something. Moments after your death, I will be making a call to Special Operations Command. In less than an hour, every squad, every operative, will be ready to move at my word. Your movement will be crushed. We will burn your safehouses to the ground, kill your fighters, and execute your friends and family. Fifty years from now, the only thing anyone will remember about the Underground is their destruction. And do you know why? BECAUSE THEY TOOK MY DAUGHTER!"

Before the rebel could so much as blink, Zrion pointed his pistol at his head and fired twice, splattering his brain across the floor.

"Damn!" Zephan shouted, jumping back in surprise. "You said you weren't going to kill him!" he said crossly.

"I'm not feeling very generous at the moment," Zrion said coldly. "And I have a feeling that I won't be until we have Monica back."

Despite his cold demeanor, inside, he was on the verge of panic. They knew who he was, probably what he had done, and they had Monica in their custody. They hadn't even tried to ransom her - they simply showed up and started shooting. That told him that they weren't in this for any reason but to hurt him. Monica was being held by terrorists, and it was his fault!

"We need to move," Zrion said quickly, sliding his pistol back into its holster. "I'm going to get in touch with HQ, see what I can scrounge up for this. Need to get into contact with Daelos too, see if he can get me any leads..."

"Zrion!" Zephan interjected. "You need to calm down." The ottsel wouldn't admit it, but he was getting very worried about his friend. He knew that Zrion was no saint, but he'd never seen him murder someone in cold blood like that. Self defense was one thing, but Zrion had just killed someone because he was angry.

"I am calm!" Zrion snapped. "Those bastards are going to see just how calm I am when I put a bullet through their heads!" He was shouting by the the end of the sentence.

Seeing that Zephan wasn't giving an inch, he instead turned to Marcus. "You get it, don't you?" he asked, somewhat desperately. "You care about her just as much as I do. You know what we have to do, right?"

[lawna]

Marcus swore that if anyone else shot a gun in his ear, good guy or bad, he was never going to hear again.

Meanwhile, the shock of seeing a person shot point blank in front of his eyes was something he was trying to stop playing over and over in his mind, otherwise it would become a permanent memory. He didn't look at the gore on the other wall, the face of the killed that was in fact not there anymore, or the man who had done the killing, the godfather of Marcus' only child. The only thing Marcus could think to look at were his own shoes.

Zrion was in a state Marcus had never seen him in before, and Marcus didn't want to think Zrion in this way at all. It was because Monica was in enemy hands, and this was Zrion's way of dealing with it. Marcus' was a quieter anger for the moment, because he had to think. He might go shoot some things a little bit later, when a plan was being set into action.

"Of course I care about her Zrion, I'm her father." Marcus said, trying not to talk down to the taller, angrier officer, but the obvious, maybe more practical approach should be taken here. At least save the Special Operation armory some of their ammunition. "I'm not going to say I know the best way to do this, but I need my daughter back. Let's just not try to swim across a river of blood to get to paradise, shall we?"

Monica's head hurt. She had a headache, but... Something around her hair line was throbbing, like it had it's own heartbeat.

Those were her first thoughts as she woke up from her unconsciousness. With her eyes still closed, she gingerly lifted her arm and touched the throbbing with her first two fingers.

The results were Monica flying up into a pained fetal position, both hands over the bloody knot she had over her left eyebrow. God, why did she think she could touch it? The wound was still openly bleeding, the blood had dripped down her face, it was even caused her eyelid to be stiff with blood. Why hadn't Zephan healed it already?

She heard some muttering, but her closed eyes made her assume that it was Zrion, maybe her dad, maybe both. Why did they let her hurt? Her painful whines caused someone out their hand on her arm, and say her name in an effort to get her attention. The timbre of the voice, and her befuddled mind made her think it was Zrion cooing to her, so she took her hands off of her head and grabbed onto her comforter's forearm with both of her hands.

"Where's Zephan? Something's wrong with my head."

When she didn't get an answer, she opened her right eye up to see that it wasn't Zrion, and if her head wouldn't have hurt so much and been so dizzy, she would have jumped back.

She had never seen this man in her life, and she wasn't in her living room, as the couch she had been lying on had suggested. She didn't know where she was.

"It's ok Monica, you're safe. You just got a rather nasty bump on the noggin." The man said. He was averagely tall, and rather thin, not short and solid like her dad was, but he did have brown hair and had darker skin, like her dad did.

That's when she finally remembered. That man, that huge man, had taken her in the alley.

She looked down at herself for more damage. She looked pretty alright, she even still had both shoes on her feet. Her bracelet was still on her wrist, even though she wasn't sure it still would be if it was anything other than the fake, sparkley, multi-colored little stones on a chain around her wrist.

Her legs, hips, stomach muscles were all fine, nothing too unpleasant seemed to have happened to them. Her arms were fine, it was just her head making her spin. She didn't smell bad, so she couldn't have been in that room for very long, but it could have been for a whole day for all she knew.

Until she figured out what the heck was going on, she wasn't going to heal herself though. Zephan, the uptight mentor that he was, had explained that some people believed that eco should be studied, and that some people believed eco should be experimented with, so she shouldn't really make her gift too well known, if she didn't want to be strapped to a lab table against her will.

"Who are you?" Monica finally asked, after taking in her surroundings. She was in a room, indeed on a couch, and along with the man talking to her, there was a man sitting behind a desk. This place looked like an office, there were file cabinets, and stacks of papers on the desk. But, the lighting was wrong, the floor was concrete, kind of uneven in some places.

"My name is Byron. I'm a mission debriefer."

Mission debriefer. Sounded KG to her. But why would she be here? If she had been found by guards, they would have taken her to the hospital, contacted her dad and Zrion, she wouldn't be bleeding."What are you?"

"Now Monica, I know you are a little confused, but given the condition that you're in, maybe you should give yourself a hand."

What was he trying to say? Did he know about her eco? She scanned him, and he definitely didn't have any green eco. She didn't think he had any, but she really wasn't an expert at this like Zephan and Zrion were.

"I need to be taken to the hospital, or I need to see a healer." Monica replied, not giving up her secret yet. Granted, healing was something most people could appreciate, but if this was an anti-eco type place, having any kind of eco, even the 'best kind', wouldn't do her any favors.

"You can heal yourself darling. What, are you shy?" Byron asked. "I think we know that's not how the Ottsel taught you to be."

Alright, this was weird. Who knew Zephan taught her? Zrion, Dad, Zephan, Monica. Zephan was kind of an honorary KG healer, since he was so advanced, so maybe she was in KG custody right now. Maybe they knew Monica was Zrion's.

All of a sudden, a thought came to her mind, that she had yet to think about. "Where's Roman?" What had he been doing since she was taken?

"Roman's fine. We are friends of Roman's, and we want to be your friends too."

'You're a damn creep,' is all Monica could think. She really didn't understand the sequence of events here. She was grabbed by that thug, and she ended up here on a stranger's couch. This wasn't right. She wouldn't feel so uncomfortable if she was really safe.

"I want to see Roman." Monica demanded. She probably should have demanded to be taken out of the building, demanded to have a phone produced to call Zrion, but she doubted that would be provided. If they were truly friends with Roman, he should easily be produced.

"You don't need to see Roman right now. In fact, you're here to be told that Roman is an Underground operative, as I'm part of the Underground, and we hope you will become part of our cause."

Monica was silent in shock. Underground. She was in the Underground right now. She needed to get the hell out of here.

"You have no clue what you're doing. With me or with anything else you're doing. 'Your cause' is a sad, ignorant, dangerous waste of energy." The words spilled out of her, even if she hadn't had a formal opinion on the subject before that second. Or, maybe it was just a habit of Monica's to babble when her heart was close to breaking. Of course Roman was part of the Underground, spending time with her, tricking her, getting her hurt. Zrion wasn't going to be happy.

"Is that what Special Operations Commander James Zrion has whispered into your ear?" Byron hissed, a snake in Eden. "The Krimzon Guard, the valiant, the strong, the only defender Haven has. But who is going to defend Haven from the defenders?"

Monica had nothing to say to that. This was mind numbing. She couldn't believe this was happening, it had to be a dream. "I won't believe anything you say. You will release me, or Special Ops will be around to destroy you. They might be on their way now, depending on how long I've been here." The thought that maybe she shouldn't be talking so much crap right now, a young girl with a bloody, dizzying goose egg on her head. But on the other hand, her words were the only thing she had to defend herself.

"Your threats are hollow Little Girl." Byron kept hissing, going to a chair at the side of the desk and sitting in it. "You might find his involvement in your life to come to a... Let's call it a dead stop."

Monica didn't know what that was supposed to mean, but it gave her the chills. However, she let the feeling go as soon as it cropped up. Zrion was too paranoid for any trick these idiots decided to try to pull.

She was becoming fully aware to what Roman's role had been in this, and she kept feeding the fire that was sparked from her rage at this. He was a liar, and she was the idiot that followed him like a little lamb.

"You're wasting your breath. Let me go now, and you might not receive as severe a punishment."

Byron coughed a laugh. "Maybe you will feel differently once you see Roman. Charlie, will you go retrieve him?"

The other man, who had been silent the whole time, got out for behind the desk and left, leaving just Monica and this snake behind.

Roman had been sitting on this couch since he confirmed for himself that Monica had made it safely to the safe house. She was laid up in Charlie's office, just waiting for her to wake up so they could start talking to her.

When he saw Charlie, Roman let him sit on the couch, but gave him a questioning look.

"She's awake, and she's a little fire cracker." Charlie said.

"I told Byron it wouldn't be easy, probably useless." Roman said, yellow eco buzzing at his frustration.

"He wants you to talk to her."

Roman rose and dropped his armed in agitation. "What the hell does he want me to say?"

"I don't know, but you better figure it out."

[Darkjak87]

River of blood, Zrion thought darkly. It’ll be a damn ocean by the time I’m through with them. The two of them did have a point though. There wouldn’t be anyone left to point them in the right direction if Zrion was too thorough.

“Alright, hold up a minute,” Zrion said to them. “I’m going to get in touch with Dekker, see what I can scrounge up. Hopefully he’ll give me the reins for the mission, so I can coordinate everything personally. We need a centralized command for this.”

That sounded reasonable at first, but Zephan had a nagging suspicion that what Zrion really wanted was a blank check to do whatever he wanted. That wouldn’t bode well, if he knew his friend like he thought he did.

But at the same time, part of Zephan was in full agreement with Zrion. He was pissed that someone had stolen Monica away from them. He’d spent years training her, and he hadn’t done that so a few moral crusaders could snatch her up. Monica and Zephan might have had a somewhat rocky relationship, but she was his student, damn it.

While he was mulling things over, Zrion had made his way back to the living room. The smell of gunpowder and superheated Eco filled the air, and the burn marks and uprooted furniture promised a very expensive and time-consuming repair job. But, much to his relief, the phone at least had managed to survive the battle. He picked it up from where it had fallen on the floor and returned it to its usual spot, then dialed a special 4-digit number, the direct line to Dekker’s office in the Fortress.

It rang only once before the man picked it up. “Dekker here,” he said curtly.

“Commander, sir,” Zrion greeted. “It’s Zrion. We have a problem.”

“Go ahead, Deputy Commander,” Dekker acknowledged.

“The Underground has just made an attempt on my life. Not sure about the exact numbers, but somewhere around a couple dozen. They were well-armed, equipped, and seemed to be experienced. I’ll be needing a new house, by the way.”

“A couple dozen?” Dekker repeated, disbelieving. “They know you’re one of us?”

“Yes, I can confirm that,” Zrion answered. “But it gets worse. They’ve kidnapped my goddaughter, Monica Lorenzo. They’re using her to get to me, I think.”

There was an agonizingly long pause. Zrion was beginning to wonder if the call had been dropped before Dekker finally responded. “Do you know if she’s alive?” he asked slowly.

“She damn well better be!” Zrion burst out angrily, before catching himself. “Sorry, sir,” he said hastily. “I’m a bit…tense, is all.”

“I noticed,” Dekker said dryly. “Just speak freely. What are you asking for?”

“Intelligence, strike ops, a rescue, and a reprisal,” Zrion listed off, not missing a beat. “And control of the operation,” he added.

“I see…” Dekker said contemplatively. “You’re asking for a lot. That’s most of our assets right there, and the Baron doesn’t like having all his eggs in one basket. Not since the Nest."

“That’s why we’re making it a reprisal,” Zrion explained. That and because I want those sons of bitches to bleed for this, he added privately. “As far as he will know, this will just be another crackdown.”

“Ignoring the fact that withholding information from the Baron is technically treason, that might actually work,” Dekker replied after a moment’s thought. “But let me ask you something. What are you planning to do?”

“I’m going to get in touch with Daelos, find out everything he knows, and then I’m going to shoot every rebel I can find until Monica is back in our hands,” Zrion said bluntly.

“Figured as much…Zrion, do you know the meaning of the word ‘restraint’?” Dekker asked rhetorically.

“’Restraint’ is a word people use when you’re not giving a hundred percent,” Zrion said cynically. “These people need to learn not to screw with us.”

“Us? Or just you?” Dekker retorted.

“Both,” Zrion said. “We’ve done this kind of thing before. Why not again?”

“Because look what happened last time!” Dekker snapped. “The city hates us, the people think we're monsters, and half my men are traumatized. You’re suggesting we do it all over again? Like we didn’t learn anything?”

That gave Zrion pause. He himself still had nightmares from that…event. And Dekker had a point – he had done a lot of things he wasn’t proud of, and yet here he was asking for permission to do it all over again.

And then he thought of Monica, bound and gagged, rotting in some basement somewhere with rebels standing over her, maybe beating her, starving her, any number of horrible things. It was then that he made up his mind.

“It’s worth it,” Zrion said with conviction. “We can’t let this stand. If we show them that they can get away with this kind of thing, they’ll do it more and more frequently. If we bring the hammer down now, we’ll either wipe them out or cripple them enough for it to not be a problem anymore.”

There was a very long silence after that as Dekker mulled it over. It was obvious that Dekker had his doubts, but Zrion knew he’d come around. After all, Dekker was a hard man when he needed to be.

“Alright Zrion,” he said at last. “You’ve made your point. Luckily for you, the whole division is in the city at the moment. First Echelon is still resting after their last mission, but I can get them moving soon. The Second is currently working on infiltrating a few crime rings, but assuming you’re willing to compromise half our intelligence operations, you can have them too. Third and Fourth should be ready to move.”

Zrion let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Thank you, sir,” he said gratefully. “It means a lot.”

“Just remember what we’re risking for this,” Dekker said sternly. “A lot of our men weren’t happy about it last time. They’ll follow your orders, but don’t expect them to like what we're doing, you hear?”

“Yeah…loud and clear,” Zrion said, with a touch of sadness. He knew the feeling all too well.

“Alright...I’ll mobilize the Echelons, let them know you’re in command for the mission. They’ll know to defer to you.”

Zrion immediately felt regret at those words. Dekker was essentially handing over his command, even if it was only briefly, and that didn’t sit well with him. “What are you going to be doing?” he asked carefully.

“I’m going to be playing politics and keeping the Baron off your ass,” he said distastefully. “We won’t be able to conceal our movements, so I’m going to have to convince him that we aren’t using the entire division to rescue one girl while we’re using the entire division to rescue one girl,” he finished dryly.

“Ah…noted,” Zrion said, unsure how to take that. “Anything else?”

“Yeah. At least try not to murder everyone in sight,” Dekker said seriously. “I know you’ll do what it takes, and that’s exactly what worries me.”

“I’ll…keep that in mind,” Zrion agreed reluctantly.

“Good. And good luck to you,” Dekker replied. “Dekker out.”

Zrion waited a few minutes for Dekker to make the necessary calls, then picked the phone back up to punch in another number, this time for Daelos’ office.

“Hello, Zrion,” Daelos said as soon as he picked up.

Zrion couldn't help but roll his eyes. Daelos always tried to play the part of the all-knowing Master of Intelligence, even though it was obvious that Dekker had already filled him in.

“Daelos,” Zrion greeted. “I take it you already know what this is about.”

“Yes. I understand that you want me to pull every agent I have from the missions they’ve been working on for months to rescue your daughter,” he said, sounding annoyed. “What do you need?"

Zrion gritted his teeth at the major’s sarcasm, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “I need to know everything you can tell me,” Zrion explained.

“That would take a very long time,” Daelos said dryly. “Maybe I should just send you a list of known safehouses?”

“Yeah…That works,” Zrion admitted grudgingly. “And I need everything you can get on someone named Roman Carwen. He’s the one that carried out the kidnapping.” Zrion didn’t even try to disguise his vindictiveness.

“Wouldn’t want to be him,” Daelos commented as he wrote down the name. “I’ll get back to you on that. What else?”

“Get your agents ready for strike ops. Your guys are the best at house-to-house fighting, so we’ll need them.” A little flattery never hurt, especially with Daelos – the man was known to have a bit of an ego. Maybe it's because he's kinda short, Zrion mused.

“Alright, can do,” Daelos said. “I’ll send the intel over to you and get my men ready.” He seemed to hesitate. “Zrion, I’m willing to help but…I don’t know about this. We’re throwing out a lot of hard work,” he said carefully. “We were really close to taking down Krew. If I pull all my agents right before we stomp the Underground, it’ll blow their cover.”

“I know, but…she means the world to me, Preston,” Zrion said pleadingly. “If she dies because of me…I don’t know what I would do.”

“…Alright, commander,” Daelos said at last. “I’ll give it my all. Just make it worth it, okay?”

“Will do, major. And thank you,” Zrion said gratefully.

“Acknowledged. Daelos out,” he finished, before hanging up.

Over the next few minutes, Zrion repeated this ritual, contacting the other two majors in the division plus Sergeant Mendoza to coordinate his own command. Until the intel arrived, he wouldn’t be able to make any movements, but there was still a lot to be done.

“Okay,” Zrion said, turning to face Marcus and Zephan, who had been quietly watching as he worked. “I’m guessing that if I ask if you want to help, you’ll say ‘hell yes’, so I’ll just go ahead and say this.

“Marcus, you are now considered to be a civilian contractor for the Krimzon Guard. Report to the Fortress at your earliest convenience to pick up your badge, ration cards, and complimentary gym membership. Zephan, you’re now an official member of the Krimzon Guard Medical Corps. Welcome aboard,” he listed off.

Zephan raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t I get a gym membership?” He wondered.

“Because you’re too short to use any of the equipment they have,” Zrion said, smirking. Just because Zephan was the snarker-in-chief didn’t mean that Zrion didn’t get one over on him once in a while.

He walked down the hall to his room, and retrieved a Colt M1911 pistol and holster from the closet. Returning a moment later, he handed the items over to Marcus. “Nothing fancy, but it should do the job,” Zrion explained. “Just don’t flash it around any Guards if I’m not around, or you might get arrested for having an unauthorized weapon. Zephan, I don’t know how you do it, but since you can kill people just by staring at them really hard, you don’t need a gun.”

Zephan couldn’t help but smirk at this. He had never explained to Zrion how he combined crossbow bolts with telekinesis to create a lethal attack, and the soldier had yet to figure it out on his own.

“Alright, grab whatever else you need while I get ready,” Zrion instructed. “We’ll get her back, you can both be damn sure of that.” I just wish I was that sure, he thought worriedly.

He headed back to his room, and started pulling on the various pieces of his armor. It was fortunate, in a sense, that he had not managed to get it on during the attack since it meant that it was still in one piece. No need to waste valuable time getting repairs made.

Just hold on Monica, he thought. We’re coming for you.

[lawna]

Marcus sluggishly followed Zrion to the kitchen, and sat in the only kitchen chair left standing in the room. It was bizarre that the chair had been completely undisturbed, like it could be standing at the table, expecting Monica for dinner.

Marcus sighed, putting his elbows on his knees and putting his face in his hands. His little girl had been lost to him for years, and while he couldn't blame himself (this time), he felt like he could have done something to prevent the possibility of ever being separated from her again. He should have done more. He should have let Zrion catch Roman on fire.

Marcus didn't pay much attention to what Zrion was saying on the phone, as it was hard to decipher from only one end anyway. Marcus lifted his head from his hands a couple of times, when Zrion had burst out with anger, and again at the mention of names he recognized, Monica's and Roman's.

Soon enough, Zrion was done on the phone, and disappeared into the house. Marcus sat up, the back of the chair the only thing supporting him. He felt like he was a big, useless, upset spaghetti noodle.

When a gun was handed to him, however, he took it with the resolve appropriate for a father about to go find his daughter and take her out of danger. We'll be with you soon baby.

Roman was pacing outside of Charlie's office.

Monica was in there, with Byron and Charlie, and Roman should have been in there himself a few minutes ago, but he was too nervous.

He had thought this was going to be so easy. Try to make friends with a girl, get the scoop about her dad, and then his job would be over. That was all he was supposed to do. Where had this thing gone wrong?

Well, first of all, it became instantly personal when Roman discovered that the said KG was the same one he associated with his sister's death. He really wished he could be out there with the group that was sent out to kill Zrion.

Then there was Monica herself. She was a nice girl, that was simple enough to understand. She didn't have any reason to want anything to do with the Underground, and since she had been staying with the Monster, she had been mislead, just like Byron was misleading her right now. The KG were Roman's enemy, the KG were Monica's heroes.

Roman should have just fought harder, convinced Byron to leave her alone. However, Byron was even more determined than Roman was. This event, Monica shut into a safe house office getting a half-convincing, half- threatening stick about how the Underground was the type of organization that would award Monica's abilities, would have happened sooner or later, and Roman might not have been there to check up on her like he was able to now.

He couldn't stall much longer, so he stood up straight in front of the door, and gave himself a little shake to get rid of his nerves. This was going to be difficult.

When the door opened, Monica finally saw her Judas, and it took a lot of effort not to jump up from the couch and smash him into pulp, but her record for fighting people wasn't too good today. She let the rage roll through her like a tsunami, and let it settle in the pit of her stomach.

The control she had harnessed over her physical reaction to her anger, however, wasn't going to stop her from being absolutely pissed. He was a liar, who told bold faced lies, to her, and that wasn't something she would accept. He was going to get what he was due.

The look Monica was giving him was the scariest, most nerve wrecking thing Roman had experienced since his first night of running messages. She knew exactly who was to blame.

The second thing Roman noticed was the knot on the left side of Monica's forehead, and his eco crackled in anger. The whole bump was probably the size of a baseball, all black and blue and a bloody, scabbed up red. The open wound itself had stopped bleeding, to leave a stream of blood that ran down and stained her forehead, and ran down onto her eyelid, which she kept closed. Roman couldn't believe she received so much damage, or that she hadn't healed herself yet. He hoped nothing was so permanently wrong with her that she couldn't use it.

"Miss Lorenzo wanted to see you Roman," Byron said, and Roman wanted to roll his eyes at the oil he was putting into his voice. Byron was pretty damn smooth when he needed to be, but Roman knew better than to be suckered, and Monica had picked up on the act too, apparently.

"I'll leave you two kids alone to talk. Maybe you could tell our newest guest why you decided to join the Underground son."

That really made Roman's skin crawl. He hated being called son by anyone, since his parents had just skipped out on him and his sister. Second of all, Byron wanted Roman to tell Monica about his sister's death, who was responsible for it, and the effect it had on his decision to join the Underground.

He didn't know how to refuse, but Charlie and Byron had already slipped out, leaving Roman alone with Monica, who was still giving Roman that same murderous look.

He had to do something, and feeling kind of light headed anyway, Roman dragged the chair that sat to the side of Charlie's desk in front of the couch, directly facing Monica. That was his first mistake.

His second mistake was not seeing Monica's right hook to his jaw. It hurt enough, but he was still able to keep his seat. His hand went tenderly to his jaw, and he gasped at the reality that she just hit him.

Monica made sure she had his full attention before speaking. "I. Hate. You."

Well, that wasn't surprising.

"You need to get me out of here before Zrion freaking finds this place."

Something came over Roman, and he laughed at Monica's warning. "He's not going to find you Monica. He..." Roman looked around for a clock in the room, but found none. "Well, it's very probable that he's dead right now."

That.... That wasn't right. Monica's body shuttered, she ground her teeth against the cry of shock that was trying to escape. "You're lying. Stop lying to me."

"Twenty five people were sent to your house, right after you were knocked out. He's dead Monica, and good riddance."

"Zrion never did anything to you!" Monica screamed, losing ultimate control over her anger.

"That's where you're wrong." Roman said, much quieter. "That man deserved to die. I wish he could have suffered more. He killed my sister Monica. My sister was seven years old, and she was shot, once in the chest, once in the head."

"Stop," Monica tried to demand, but it came out more as a plea. Monica knew Roman just wanted to hurt her. This wasn't right at all.

"Stop? Why should I stop? James Zrion never thought to stop when he and thirty, forty other guards came storming through safe houses, killing the defenseless. Children died in the arms of their mothers! Only to have their mothers follow seconds later. They aren't courageous, they aren't admirable. They are glorified murderers. James Zrion is a cold hearted killer, praying on the sheep he's supposed to be keeping. He is a monster."

Monica had reduced herself to tears before Roman had finished, the tears sticking to her eyelashes, causing the dried blood in her eyelid to become wet again.

Roman hadn't meant to hurt her like this, but he was sick of her practically worshiping the murderous bastard. She had to know the truth, that the guards weren't the heroes they pawned themselves off to be.

Roman sighed, got up from the chair, and went to Charlie's desk. After shuffling through the paper, he picked up the one he wanted. He brought it to Monica, making sure she had it gripped in her hand before silently leaving the room.

Monica took a few more seconds to let the sobs rack through her body, and she wiped the tears from her eyes, left hand streaked with blood.

Monica's eyes skimmed the paper, the words and letters drifting so much that she read it multiple times before finally making out what it said.

Zrion, James DCMR has been observed to exhibit symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) following the events of [DATA REDACTED] on the night of [DATA REDACTED], codename "Operation Black Rose". Recommend discreet observation for signs of debilitating mental/emotional trauma.

[Darkjak87]

This looks like the start of a bad joke, Zephan thought sardonically. An ottsel, a commando, and a civilian contractor are sitting at the kitchen table...

After having sent word to the rest of the division, the three of them had little else to do until the intel arrived and Zrion could begin planning the assault. He had retrieved the table from the hallway and set it back up in the kitchen. It was covered in scorch-marks and the occasional hole, but at least it served as a convenient elbow rest.

No one spoke, as each was currently mulling over his own thoughts. Zrion's head was racing, unable to keep himself from trying to put together a plan despite not having the necessary information, while Marcus was simply sickening himself with worry. Zephan...well, Zrion had no idea, to be honest, but he certainly didn't look happy.

A knock on the wall caused all three of them to whip their heads toward the source, their eyes falling on a black-armored commando standing in the door, a bundle of rolled-up papers under one arm. He was wearing armor almost identical to Zrion's, barring the insignia on the shoulder; a stylized fox head ringed by nine tails. It was the insignia of Second Echelon's Fox Team, Major Daelos' personal command.

"Commander? I'm Sergeant Theron Victors," he introduced. "Since your front door appears to be, er, destroyed, I just let myself in. I was told to fill you in."

"Thank you sergeant," Zrion acknowledged. "Just put everything on the table."

Victors surveyed the ruined table with a raised eyebrow. "Tough fight, sir?" he asked rhetorically, as he made his way over.

"You have no idea," Zrion grumbled.

The analyst placed the scrolls near Marcus, and selected one of the larger ones to spread out over the table. Standing up, Zrion walked over to stand next to Victors, seeing that it was a large map of Haven City, with about thirty locations marked with a red circle. Most of them were in the slums, with a few in Maintown and the rest scattered throughout the city. There were none near the Palace or the Fortress, where the KG was strongest.

"These are safehouses," Victors explained. "The ones we know about, anyway. We've been keeping an eye on them for some time."

"So, if you already know they're there, why haven't you already taken them out?" Zrion wondered.

"Because they've been fairly quiet lately, and the longer we wait the less careful they'll be. Plus, if we don't wipe them out straight away, it gives us a chance to infiltrate and find out what their plans are."

"Makes sense," Zrion nodded. "How many people are in each one?"

"It varies, but usually between one and ten, and most don't get past five. A lot of these are actually just family homes that occasionally harbor refugees or militiamen." Victors gave Zrion a pointed look as he said these last words.

Zrion chose to ignore it. "Okay. So, how do we know which one Monica has been taken to?"

"We don't," Victors said bluntly. "It could be any of them, and it might not even be one that we know about yet. If we want to find her, we'll either have to get lucky or obtain the information we need from one of these bases."

"Sounds simple enough. What's the catch?" Zrion asked knowingly.

"The Underground operates in cells. A lot of the time, these groups have little or no contact with each other. Even if we do attack these bases, there's no guarantee we'll find what we're looking for, or anything at all for that matter. That's why we've never managed to find their headquarters, or their leader."

"Great," Zrion sighed. "We'll just have to take our chances. Anyway, you're the expert here, so what do you suggest?"

"Well, if that pile of bodies in the living room is anything to go by, I doubt the Maintown cells are much of a threat anymore," Victors said wryly.

"I wouldn't say that. There were around twenty or thirty rebels, and we got fifteen of them."

"Right then. Well, there are two safehouses in Maintown that we know of, but if there were that many rebels, it means there are more than we thought. We should send a squad to hunt down the rest," Victors suggested.

"Done," Zrion stated. "Get Cobra Team on it." He grabbed a marker and started scribbling on the map. "What else?"

"The slums are our best bet," the analyst opined. "The rebels have always been strongest around there. Guard patrols are uncommon because they tend to get ambushed or sniped. It would be the safest place for them to take her, but the most dangerous for us."

"Alright..." Zrion contemplated. "I'll be bringing in the Fourth and First Echelons for the slums. We'll need the firepower. Next?"

"North Haven and the Bazaar," Victors pointed. "Underground influence tends to be weak there, because there aren't a lot of places in the Bazaar for them to hide, and North Haven is mostly populated by the upper-class, who are usually loyal to the Baron. There are a few Underground strongholds we know of around there, but they shouldn't be too difficult to take out. On the other hand, they might have taken Monica there assuming we wouldn't expect it."

"Fox and Leopard Team will handle those," Zrion decided. "What about Southtown?"

"The port is more for the crime syndicates than the Underground. They've been known to work together at times, but we don't think they have anything to do with this. We shouldn't have to worry about them at the moment."

"Okay, good. You got any recommendations for the Third Echelon?" Zrion requested.

"Yeah. The Underground snipers are a pain in the ass. One of them put a round through my leg, once. We need countersnipers to support every taskforce if we want to prevent that."

Zrion nodded. "Okay, that's what we'll do. I'll let Swain know. Anything else?"

"That's it, except for the final plan, which I assume you'll be taking care of. Should I go ahead and report back to Daelos?" Victors asked.

"Yeah, go ahead. Get everyone ready. Thanks for the help, Sergeant." Zrion nodded.

"Always a pleasure," he said, but seemed to hesitate. "Commander, I have a son. I don't know what I would do if he were kidnapped, but...Keep in mind that a lot of the people we're about to start a fight with have children of their own."

"Noted, Sergeant," Zrion said testily. "Dismissed."

Victors looked conflicted, but nonetheless he saluted and left the house a moment later.

Zrion spent the next few minutes in silence, making marks on the map and drawing arrows, writing in the names of the various squads he would assign to each location. There were more safehouses than there were squads, so speed was of the essence. If the Underground caught wind of what they were up to, they could pack up and evacuate before the soldiers could got there. The men would have to move quickly to prevent that from happening.

Eventually, Zrion was satisfied with his plan, and after a moment's thought, he wrote "Operation Aurora" in the margin at the top.

That done, Zrion instead reached for his radio, and began contacting the Echelon leaders, giving them their orders and assignments. They would move to their rendezvous points and, at his word, they would attack their targets in perfect sync, in order to achieve maximum surprise. After that, Zrion called for a Krimzon zoomer bike, for him and Marcus. Zephan would just have to hold onto his shoulder.

"Alright, we're good to go," Zrion said at last to Marcus and Zephan. "A bike should be on the way. Marcus, just follow my lead. If you see a rebel, then feel free to shoot at him, but otherwise leave the heavy lifting to us. Not doubting your skills, but we train for this kind of thing. Zephan...Well, you've tagged along before, so you know the drill."

"Yeah. Wait until you get shot, then pull the bullet out and heal you," Zephan said dryly.

Pointedly ignoring the ottsel, the three of them walked outside, just in time to see a red-armored regular soldier pull up on his zoomer bike. It was a small vehicle, really only designed for one person, but there was a small passenger seat behind the driver for emergencies.

Zrion returned the soldier's salute and straddled the bike. It had been a very long time since Zrion had driven one of these, but he'd been trained for it. He felt Marcus climb onto the vehicle behind him, and Zephan climbed up onto Zrion's shoulder and held on tight. Overall, it was a bit of an awkward fit, but it would work.

"Good luck, sir!" The soldier called. "Show those traitors not to fuck with the Guard!"

Zrion gave him a grim smile and a salute, before facing forward and hitting the ignition. The vehicle hummed to life, and Zrion thumbed the altitude stick, raising it up to about a meter above street level. He hit the accelerator a moment later, and foot-long flames roared from the twin exhaust ports as the zoomer sped down the street toward the slums.

[lawna]

Byron was not the first person Roman wanted to run into after getting done talking to Monica, but the Universe did have an awful sense of humor.

"How'd it go?" Charlie asked, who was sticking to Byron like glue today.

Roman's palms were itchy with eco, just like his soul seemed to itch at this whole situation. "How do you think it went? She's so ecstatic that the Underground is responsible for killing the person that gave her a home after hers went up in flames, and she's so glad that she's been abused, kidnapped, and held against her will. She can't wait to join."

"You weren't supposed to tell her about the assassination." Byron threw out, uselessly.

"Who cares, can't do anything about it now." Roman said, sending miniature balls of yellow eco to the concrete floor.

"Let me go talk to her some more." Byron said, making to stand up from the chair he was sitting in.

"No!" Roman shouted, his seemingly lazy yellow eco sending a forceful glob to the floor. "This is over. She doesn't want anything to do with this, and it's not like anything you say is going to change her mind. She hates you, she hates me, and she hates the Underground."

She was also hating how she was feeling.

Roman had said that Zrion was dead, or dying, but Monica couldn't believe that. Sure, some rebels could have been rounded up and formed into an assassination team, and sent to Zrion's house. That was probably Roman's main goal in all of this anyway.

The fact of whether or not they were actually able to kill Zrion was another story entirely. He wasn't a Special Operations commando for nothing, and Monica knew that. Zrion was resourceful, skillful, and above all he was a survivor.

Was he also a murderer? Monica gripped the front of her shirt, finding the hem of it and twisting.

Everything Roman had told Monica up to this point was a lie, so this obviously was just another one. How could she think any different?

She could think different because Roman hated Zrion, in a way Monica had never seen anyone hate another. (Zephan didn't really hate anyone, just loathed things and people for all they were worth.) She saw it in the way he talked, the way he acted. She thought she saw daggers drag themselves over Roman's eyes in hate.

Monica shook her head, causing her brow to get heavy with throbbing pain. That's when she finally healed the knot on her head, knowing Zephan would chew her up one side and down the other for ignoring a concussion for so long.

She might develop the brain damage he always accused her of.

[Darkjak87]

The trip lasted a few minutes, and had been completely silent except for the steady roar of the engine. The reasons for the silence varied, however. In Zrion’s case, he was simply too focused on his goal to think about anything else. Marcus was in a similar state, but he was also grinning openly at the exhilarating feeling of riding on the bike. Zephan, clinging desperately to Zrion’s shoulder, was taking deep breaths and trying not to have a panic attack due to Zrion's excessive speed.

As they neared the slums, Zrion took one hand from the handlebars and pressed it to his ear. “Zrion here, I’m almost to the rendezvous point with Task Force Michael. What’s the situation?”

His ear was suddenly filled with the sound of gunfire and shouts, audible even over the noise of the engine. “Zrion! Mendoza here! Everyone else is here, but we’ve been ambushed! Underground militia has us pinned down from all sides and we can’t get a bead on them!”

Zrion scowled. So much for the element of surprise. Though, to be fair, a couple-dozen black-armored commandos was a fairly conspicuous sight. “Roger that, Mendoza. I’m coming in hot,” he warned.

“Wait, what?!” Zephan blurted, tightening his grip even further.

“Hold on!” Zrion replied. “We’re probably gonna die, but if we’re lucky, we’ll die hilariously!”

Immediately following that statement, Zrion abruptly lowered the bike to just above street level, then pressed the throttle all the way down. The engine screamed even louder as the already overburdened vehicle was forced to its absolute limit. Though he was too focused on the road to dare glancing at the speedometer, it had climbed all the way up to 180 mph before holding steady.

At this point, Zephan was openly screaming, and Marcus, to put it mildly, was also starting to rethink his involvement. Zrion, for his part, wore a feral grin as he steered the bike toward the sound of gunfire.

“Hard left coming up!” Zrion shouted over all the noise. “Hold on to your asses!”

Heeding the warning, Marcus gripped Zrion around the waist just as he twisted the handlebars almost as far as they would go. In response, the blue jet of flame from the right side suddenly flared up even brighter, and the bike almost tipped over as Zrion rounded the corner that put them on the same street as the ongoing skirmish.

As soon as they were in sight, Zrion quickly took in the situation. Approximately thirty black-armored soldiers had found cover behind a hastily-arranged line of zoomers, and were trading shots with a large group of rebels that were similarly dug-in further down the street. Unfortunately for the KG, the rebels had managed to catch them by surprise. Apparently, they had concealed themselves in the buildings on either side, and were now using their height advantage to fire down on the soldiers below, trapping them in the middle.

“You guys might want to duck!” Zrion shouted into his radio.

It was impossible to miss all the noise they were making, between the straining bike engine and Zephan’s terrified screaming. The soldiers up ahead quickly hit the ground, and the bike roared overhead barely seconds later, putting the three of them between the KG and the rebels.

The rebels obviously couldn’t miss that, and quickly began focusing fire on the approaching bike. Zrion started swerving in erratic patterns, evading the bolts of Eco as they tore post. He then flicked another switch on the dashboard, activating the targeting system for the light 30mm blaster mounted on the underside of the bike.

Zrion aimed toward the rebels as best he could and thumbed the fire button on the right handlebar. The bike lurched and thick red bolts of superheated Eco erupted from the cannon. The rebels shouted in alarm and dived for cover, but one was unlucky enough to catch one in the middle. Considering that the gun was designed to kill Metal Head heavy infantry, it almost literally ripped him in half.

The zoomer soared over the rebel line a moment later, Zrion missing their heads by mere inches. He continued in a straight line for several more seconds, before abruptly turning right, heading toward the buildings along that side of the street. Civilians screamed and dived out of the way as he passed over the walkway, and he missed the buildings by less than a foot as he straightened out.

“GET OFF THE SIDEWALK, YOU LUNATIC!” Marcus bellowed, tightening his grip around Zrion’s middle.

Zrion tuned him out as he continued swerving to avoid the hapless people in the way. There were some close calls, but fortunately, he didn’t crash into anyone. However, he noticed too late when his most recent maneuver put him directly in the way of a trashcan sitting on the curb. Zrion steered out of the way, but the tail end of the bike struck anyway, the flames from the exhaust port melting a massive gash into the metal as the impact sent it flying.

A moment later, Zrion wrested the handlebars again, causing the bike to veer to the left and back onto the open street, toward the buildings on the opposite side.

“Hold on, this is gonna be a rough turn!” Zrion warned, not quite managing to hide his glee. Even as he was saying it, he forced the handlebars as far over as possible, and literally felt the side of his leg armor scraping the ground as the bike listed to one side.

He passed just over the sidewalk on the left side of the street, just barely managing to complete the 180 without crashing. Unfortunately, that put him directly on a collision course with another trashcan, and this time he didn’t have time to attempt to steer out of the way.

The crash was deafening, and the trashcan was sent flying as the bike flew past, but at this point Zrion was driving so fast that the defenseless container had no hope of stopping him.

“DO YOU HATE TRASH CANS? IS THAT IT? DO YOU JUST HATE TRASH CANS?!” Zephan screeched.

He was now back on course toward the rebels, but from this side they were completely exposed. With a feral grin, Zrion thumbed the handlebar trigger again, firing bursts of Red Eco from the cannon. At the same time, he removed his left hand from the handlebars entirely and clenched it into a fist, which began glowing brightly with Yellow Eco.

A moment later, and Zrion made a throwing motion with his arm, sending a projectile of Yellow Eco arcing toward the rebels ahead of him. It landed right in their midst, catching several in the explosion and inflicting severe burns on others nearby. Simultaneously, the Red Eco bolts tore into their right flank, bringing down a few more.

Zrion continued hitting the rebels with everything he had as he made his second approach run, throwing explosive bursts of yellow fire in tandem with the heavy Red Eco projectiles. As he drew nearer, he angled the bike down slightly, and rammed it directly into a rebel that had not reacted in time to avoid him.

The rebel screamed almost directly in Zrion’s face as the impact crushed his ribs, the momentum of the bike keeping him pinned to the front like a grotesque hood ornament. In response, Zrion’s left hand flared with Red Eco and he shoved the rebel off, sending him sprawling off to the side and into the concrete, killing him instantly.

“Yeah! Ten points!” Zrion cackled. “You guys filmin’ this?” he shouted into the radio.

“Commander, you’re freaking crazy, but it’s working!” Mendoza said enthusiastically. “You broke the rebel line, but be advised that the ones on our flanks are still harassing us. Permission to pursue?”

“Granted! I’ll take care of the rest!”

He steered to the right again, and then sharply reversed the turn, sending the bike into a fishtail and aiming the nose back toward the rebels, mere moments before he would’ve hit the KG line again. For a brief moment, the bike was almost frozen in midair as the engines strained against the momentum he’d already built up, but then it rocketed off again toward the recovering Underground fighters.

At this point, Zrion noticed an urgent beeping from the dashboard, and glancing down, he saw a flashing red light warning him of an overheating engine. He frowned at first, but then bared his teeth in a grin as a new idea occurred to him.

“Zephan!” He called. “Do shields protect against whiplash?”

“I don’t know! Maybe!” the ottsel said frantically. “What the hell are you planning now!?”

“Something dangerous!” Zrion said cheekily. “Get ready to jump, and surround us with a shield as soon as we’re clear of the bike!”

“Are you fucking crazy?!” Marcus shouted.

“Uh, empirical evidence suggests that, yes, Zrion is fucking crazy!” Zephan chimed in, sounding just as terrified as Marcus.

“Just do it! We don’t have long!” Zrion warned, steering back toward the rebels. “Marcus, reach into the pouch on the front of my armor! Get a grenade out!”

Marcus cursed and fumbled to do as Zrion asked, taking a few precious seconds to retrieve the explosive. After finding it, he shoved it into Zrion’s waiting hand, and the soldier popped the pin on it a moment later and rammed it in between the steering shaft and the seat.

“Okay…NOW!” Zrion called. Grabbing on to Zephan, and with Marcus holding onto Zrion by the waist, they released their grip on the bike and jumped off, hanging suspended in the air for a few moments while Zephan crackled with green energy.

A split-second later, an emerald dome formed around all three of them, moments before they slammed into the ground at almost two hundred miles per hour. The shield prevented them from grinding against the ground, but they still would have been killed on impact if not for Zephan’s last-second improvisation.

Zrion felt a curious sensation envelop him, and when he glanced down, he noted that his entire body was enveloped in the green glow of Zephan’s telekinesis, keeping them suspended in the center of the shield rather than allowing them to be hurled against the sides.

Zrion felt a wave of nausea and nearly passed out from the force when Zephan abruptly slammed down with his telekinetic grip, almost instantly breaking their forward momentum and leaving them hovering a few feet in the air, protected by his Eco shield. Then, without warning, the shield and the aura disappeared, letting them fall the last few feet with pained grunts.

That is, except for Zephan, who gently lowered himself down, giving Zrion a hateful glare as he did so. Apparently, that was the start of his revenge for the recent near-death experience.

Zrion then turned his gaze forward, watching as the Krimzon zoomer bike spun out of control, but still flying toward the panicking rebels up ahead. It crashed into their defensive line a moment later, almost perfectly timed with the detonation of the grenade Zrion had left behind.

The flare of Yellow Eco erupted first, enveloping both the bike and the nearby rebels. Then, triggered by the grenade, the ammunition storage for the cannon detonated, forcibly fusing the Red Eco with the Yellow that had already been released, turning the explosion orange and more than tripling its size and radius. The wave of heat crashed into them almost immediately afterwards, and Zrion actually gave himself a few pats on the head to make sure his hair wasn’t singed.

The rebels, for their part, screamed only briefly before their cries were extinguished, and as the explosion faded away, the only thing left was the scattered wreckage of the burnt bike, and mangled bodies and limbs.

Zrion, Marcus and Zephan were all panting, their pounding hearts forcing the adrenaline through their veins and keeping them alert. Turning around back toward the KG line, he was just in time to spot several squads forcing their way into the buildings on either side, presumably going after the rebels as Zrion had ordered.

Zrion allowed himself a satisfied smile. That was undoubtedly one of the most insane things he had ever done, with a million things that could have gone horribly wrong. But, it had worked, and it would be one hell of a story to tell later.

“You. Are. Fucking. INSANE!” Zephan exploded, fixing Zrion with a glare that could have peeled the paint off his armor.

Helplessly, Zrion glanced at Marcus, but his expression was anything but sympathetic. Upon seeing that, he simply sighed. Best to just let them get it out of their systems, he thought in resignation.

[lawna]

Marcus laid on the sidewalk flat on his back, trying to recover from his racing heart and crackling eco. Finally, he sat up, and looked to his normally stoic friend. "You could have just dropped us off down the block, you know." He said, exhausted.

The three kidnappers were at a stalemate, and each sat around the safe house dejectedly. After Roman's stubborn defiance, they had decided Monica could just sit in the room by herself and stew, while Byron figured out what to do next.

They all sat in silence, before there was some kind of commotion happening somewhere in the safe house, and a woman came through the doorway.

"Byron, no one from the Team came in to confirm." She said, slightly out of breath, as if she'd jogged to the safe house.

Roman didn't know what that meant exactly, as it was pretty vague, but Byron's face drained itself of color. He checked his watch, and looked back up to the messenger.

"What do you mean no one has confirmed?" He asked, his voice laced with ice.

"It is unknown if the Team has successfully carried out it's mission." She continued. "No members have been seen since leaving. People have been sent out to get a feel for the situation."

"She is not talking about the assassination group, is she?" Roman asked, spitting. What kind of team did Byron put together that couldn't even confirm a job done? This was freaking important, and this team was mediocre.

Roman voiced his thoughts, using some stronger language, and Byron's lips curled back.

"My wife was leading the group you Son of a Bitch." Byron said, raising his voice. "Mediocre my ass!"

Charlie put his hand on Byron's shoulder, as in his excitement, Byron came to the edge of his chair as if he might pounce in attack. "The kid didn't mean anything."

'Horse shit,' Roman thought, but kept the words in his mouth.

"Send more people out, I want reports on the atmosphere, and I want anyone found from the Team brought directly to me for an ass chewing. Get out of here." Byron demanded from the messenger, and them he brushed Charlie's hand off to stand up. "You're girlfriend's in trouble Roman."

[Darkjak87]

Zrion shrugged at Marcus. "If we'd stopped, we'd have lost the element of surprise. Besides, it worked didn't it?"

Zephan's right eye started twitching, and if not for his fur there would probably be a visible vein on his forehead right now.

"Uh...I should go and check on my men," Zrion said quickly, eying the ottsel warily. Zephan might not have looked like much, but when properly motivated there were plenty of things he could do to ruin Zrion's day. Not that he was having a particularly good one to begin with.

Leaving Marcus and Zephan to try and get over their PTSD, Zrion hurried over to the group of soldiers. He could hear gunfire and shouts coming from inside the buildings, presumably the entry teams at work. Mendoza saw him coming and walked up to greet him. "Hey Zrion," he said, giving his commander a salute. "We're working on securing the area. No sign of Monica yet, but somehow the Underground knew we were coming."

"Well, a platoon of commandos tends to stand out," Zrion said dryly.

"Yeah, but they were already in position, and ready for a fight," Mendoza pointed out. "That's not random. They were waiting for us."

"Must have been one of the survivors from my house," Zrion muttered, rubbing at his temples.

"Heard about that." Mendoza winced. "You gonna need a place to stay after this?"

"Maybe. Hopefully Dekker can find me another place to live, though. I'd rather not impose."

The sergeant shrugged. "Well, you can sleep on the couch at my place if you need to."

Zrion nodded. "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind."

"It's nothing...And, commander, I've gotta ask. How are you holding up?"

Zrion opened his mouth to give his usual canned response, but he shut it a moment later with a deep frown. "Not very well," he admitted. "I'm worried sick. I keep imagining what they might be doing to her, and right now there's not a damn thing I can do to help her."

"We'll get her back," Mendoza assured him. "The Underground might be a bunch of scumbags, but they need the support of the people to function. They can't afford to start executing and torturing innocent civilians."

"True," Zrion conceded, though it did little to ease his concerns. "So, any idea where these rebels came from?"

"Not exactly," Mendoza admitted. "We knew there a lot in this area of the city, but we weren't expecting this level of resistance. Someone has to be coordinating them. They don't operate in groups this large otherwise."

Zrion sighed. "Figures. Alright, finish mopping up the buildings here. After that, we're splitting up into groups. Each group will have two squads, one from the Fourth Echelon, and one from the First. They'll be given a list of addresses, and are to kill or capture anyone inside. Our top priority is finding more intel to point us in the right direction."

"Just a regular housekeeping job, eh?" Mendoza commented. "I'll talk to Major Knight and our squad leaders and get everyone ready."

He started to protest, saying that he could do it himself, but Mendoza just gave him a look, causing him to relent without comment. Mendoza gave him one final nod before returning to the group of soldiers up ahead and started barking orders. Honestly, Zrion wasn't sure how he'd scrape by without his loyal sergeant to help him out.

Of course, now Zrion had nothing to do except continue to torment himself with his thoughts. At least he would have if Zephan hadn't stepped up next to him. "You alright, Zrion?" he asked quietly. Apparently, he was done seething for the moment.

Zrion shook his head. "Not really, no. I'm still worrying about her."

Zephan sighed. "I am too," the ottsel admitted, much to Zrion's surprise. At the soldier's expression, Zephan gave him a slight glare. "I spent years training her," he said, a bit snappishly. "Teaching her to control her powers, to use them for good. Then a bunch of idiots who think the Metal Heads will wait on us to finish a civil war decide to kidnap her just because they hate you?" Zephan shook his head. "That makes me very annoyed."

Zrion rolled his eyes in response. "Oh, just admit that you care about her," he prodded.

Zephan's glare intensified, but after Zrion held his gaze, the ottsel groaned. "Fine, I care about her. Some. Enough to tag along with you and Marcus."

That was about all he'd get out of the ottsel, Zrion knew. He was tempted to tease him some more, but he decided against pushing his luck. Zephan was already testy over Zrion's little stunt from before, and he'd rather not get dropped down a manhole.

He glanced up from Zephan, and noticed Mendoza waving him over. The entry teams had since finished their cleanup, and were now reassembling outside with the other soldiers and splitting into groups. "Looks like we're ready to move out," Zrion commented, looking between Marcus and Zephan. "Everyone ready?"

"I'm never ready to get shot at, but I'll help anyway," Marcus answered.

"I'm good to go, as long as that armor is in good condition," Zephan remarked, making a show of standing behind Zrion.

"Thank you both for your loyalty and support," Zrion snarked, reaching over his shoulder and grabbing his rifle. "Alright, let's do this," he said grimly.