Shackles of the Past

[lawna]

"I appreciate it. I want to find my daughter, just like you do, and the probably of finding her rests better with you." Marcus replied, glad the air was clear. "So, what are we doing now."

Monica's forehead was against the curve where Roman's neck and shoulder came together, and she wiped her running nose on her tank top, knowing the snot would come out easier than the dry blood would.

The last of Roman's statements still rolled around her mind in a poisonous way. Monica knew KG hurt and killed Metalheads. That was fine, in Monica's opinion. Metalheads were evil, no goodness survived in their metal shells. They didn't have husbands and wives and children in the way humans did. No Metalheads loved one another.

But the people the KG were responsible for killing, Byron's wife, Roman's little sister. Monica couldn't remember what is was like to be seven years old.

Monica retracted from Roman's arms and tried to wipe all the tears off her face. "What was your sister's name?" She whispered.

These kind of questions seemed like an eerie tradition, as she had asked Zrion similar questions about his deceased parents. Through these questions, Monica felt like Alexander and Rachel could be her adoptive grandparents, if they could love her at least a fraction the way Zrion seemed to.

However, Monica halted that line of thought, and wanted to hear the other verse in this song. She would try to honor those that had died, just so someone would.

"Her name was Larissa." Roman whispered back, pretending for the second that he and Monica were the only beings that lived on the Earth. "We had just came to the Safe House that day. I thought we could stay there until we found our parents, who had just up and left us. I don't know if either of them are still alive."

Before Roman could continue on any more, the door opened, and Monica felt like she wanted to throw up when Byron and Charlie came through.

"Alright, I think I have a plan," Byron began.

"Because those have worked out so far." Roman snapped, not taking his arms from around Monica.

"Right now, my concentration is to make sure my kids aren't orphaned by the end of the night, so just shut up and listen." Byron seemed to plea. "This is what we are going to do."

[Darkjak87]

"We've got a location on Monica," Zrion said immediately. He couldn't help but grin slightly at Marcus' clear expression of relief. "Yeah, I know the feeling," he added.

"So, how are gonna play this?" Marcus asked.

"The regulars are mobilizing, they're sending troops to South Town. I've called for transports, they're gonna drop us off down there. We're going to figure out the situation once we're there, but we're getting her back."

"Any idea what we're up against?" Zephan asked. Zrion started slightly; he hadn't noticed the ottsel approach.

"Not yet, but I've got a hunch the rebels are shoring up their defenses down there. They have to know what we're doing by now, and they'll want to make us pay for it. We won't let them."

"So, make it up as we go along. Got it," Zephan said dryly.

A few more minutes passed before a pair of red-painted troop transports arrived, lowering to just above the ground and dropping a ramp. The soldiers clambered into the armored transports, taking a seat on the hard metal benches.

"No cushions?" Marcus complained.

Zrion shrugged. "Military sets the hardware standard, but they could care less about leather seats."

"At least it has air conditioning," Braeburn said.

"It's winter."

The trip lasted only a few minutes, but was uneventful. Given what Zrion was used to, a combat drop where the transport wasn't taking fire was a welcome improvement. Eventually, the soldiers packed inside felt it come to a halt, then the ramp descended again.

The men piled out a few moments later, giving Zrion a chance to look around. The Krimzon Guard had assembled an impressively large force on such short notice, he noted. Almost a whole company was lying in wait, taking cover behind stacks of sandbags, rifles aimed over the tops. Further back, half-a-dozen mortars and their accompanying crews were setting up, readying themselves to put down any potential charge from the Underground fighters digging in further up the street. Although he could not pick them out, Zrion knew there would be a fair number of snipers hiding just out of sight as well.

Speaking of which, the reason this powerful group was currently taking cover, rather than storming the rebel defenses up ahead. A dozen guardsmen lay dead ahead of them, victims of an ill-fated probing attack. All the proof he needed that there would be Underground marksmen waiting to snuff out their lives.

Indeed, the Guards may have had the numbers and firepower, but the rebels were crafty. They had dug their heels in on one of the three main roads that ran the full length of Haven City. It was a straight line, with little cover, and overpasses and sky-bridges offered the high ground and plenty of cover for the defenders. It was a kill zone, and they had to wade straight into it to clear them out.

Mendoza grunted. “Sir, we can’t move up. They’ll frag us in under a minute."

“I know,” Zrion responded, his frustration evident. “But what choice do we have? We’ve come this far, we’re not about to be scared off by a bunch of idiots who have less combat experience than a second lieutenant!”

He glanced toward the nearby guard captain, who was stoically surveying the gauntlet ahead of them. “You have any ideas?” he asked.

“Just one,” the soldier said wearily. “Frontal assault. They have both sides of the street guarded, but we outnumber them and have superior firepower. If we charge they won’t be able to stop us.”

“Brilliant. Throw enough meat in the grinder, and maybe it’ll stall,” Zrion deadpanned.

“I don’t like it either, but what do you suggest? Level the whole street with artillery?” he snapped back.

“You’re the reason we’re losing this war,” Zrion said harshly. “I'm assuming control of this mission. Report to your superior for reassignment.”

“You don’t have the authority to do that!” he said angrily.

“Go. Away.” Zrion ground out, glaring at him furiously. The two glared at each other for nearly a full minute, before the officer finally gave in and stormed away.

“Sir… Was that necessary?” Braeburn asked carefully. “He was only trying to do his job.”

Zrion turned to glare at Braeburn. “His ‘job’ would have gotten half of us killed!”

“That may be true, but as far as he knew, that was the only option,” Braeburn argued, refusing to back down. “Sir, I know you’re worried, but this isn’t you. You have to make the tough calls, but you always do it with a clear head. Frankly, I’m worried that you’re going to be the one to get us killed.”

“I have never put us in unnecessary danger!” Zrion snapped. “There have been injuries, and I’ve made bad calls before, but we've always made it through in one piece. And there's no avoiding risks, either. That’s what we signed up for, soldier!"

“All due respect, commander, we didn’t sign up to be your personal rescue squadron,” Thompson interrupted, causing Zrion to turn on him next.

“This is a reprisal. You know the rules—" Zrion began.

“Yes, we do,” Mendoza cut in. “We look after our own, no matter what it takes. But you need to get a grip, commander. This isn’t you. You’re supposed to be calm and rational. Right now, you’re lashing out, killing people left and right, and it’s just making you angrier. You need to calm the hell down before you get us all killed.”

Zrion refused to answer, turning away and fuming silently as he stared into the distance. Was there anyone left that he could trust to stand at his side?

But, upon reflection, he had to admit that they had a point. They had been happy enough to help him so far, something that he appreciated, but Zrion was beginning to lose his grip. Every officer had to deal with the reality of sacrifice, but Zrion had made the worst mistake of them all—he had begun to devalue the lives under his command. He had been, for a brief moment, completely willing to throw away the lives of soldiers in order to save one person. While she meant a lot to him, what gave him the right to say that her life was worth more than theirs?

They had to get her back, but this wasn’t the right way. Monica didn’t need him to be this vengeful, ruthless renegade. She needed Zrion as he should have been; calm, rational, and in complete control of himself.

Taking a deep breath, he turned back to face his squad. “Okay,” Zrion began, calmly. “I see your point. Thanks for knocking some sense into me.”

“Happy to do it, sir.” Mendoza said. “But don’t get me wrong. This isn’t a mutiny; you’re still the one giving the orders. We’d just prefer you do it with a clear head.”

“Understandable,” Zrion agreed. “And… I’m sorry about that. It should never have happened in the first place.”

“It’s alright, sir. You’re worried about her, and this is just your way of caring. Such as it is.” Braeburn said dryly.

“Alright, well… Any ideas then?” Zrion asked.

“Yes. We wait,” Mendoza said. “Honestly? If they were going to kill her, they’d have done it by now. But the First and Third Echelons will be here soon to back us up. We can have the Third Echelon suppress the enemy snipers while the First advances with us. The reds can lay down covering fire. If we can keep their heads down, we should be able to close the distance without getting slaughtered.”

Zrion nodded. That was the plan that he should have come up with. “Sounds good, sergeant. Let me know when they get here. Until then, get some rest.”

[lawna]

"A messenger came by, and he assured us that he would be the last one for a while. All Safe Houses are in lock down, no one is coming in or out. We can't get the agents that are already here out." Byron informed the group. "There is a whole pool of the motherfuckers south of us. Another safe house has them stalled for now, but it won't last forever."

"I think it's finally time to let her go." Roman said. "We'll walk her a couple of blocks and I'm sure she'll run into somebody."

"And then we stand vulnerable to an attack." Byron countered. "We keep her. For as long as necessary."

"Monica is the only one they want. They'll lay off once they have her."

"Are you touched in the head?" Charlie asked. Monica thought that might be the first time he spoke in front of her. "They will receive her and then come in to spite us. We need something to bargain with, threaten them with."

"Nothing is going to happen to her while she's here," Roman ordered, hackles rising at the tone this was taking. "She going to stay with me, not any more harmed than she has already been."

"Whose side are you on Roman? You are an agent," Charlie accused.

"Maybe I shouldn't have been. Monica is my mission, nothing else."

Charlie and Byron both paused for a long second, and Byron pulled the gun that Monica never realized was in the back of his waist band.

"Roman, are you being insubordinate to an order by a Safe House Manager?" Charlie hissed.

Roman's heart starting thudding in his chest, not believing this was happening. Maybe from Byron, but not Charlie. "Don't do this," Roman pleaded.

[Darkjak87]

Zrion found himself resting in a small foxhole off to the side, safely out of sight of any potential snipers. Zephan joined him, while Marcus chose to wander around the area. The two sat in silence for a few minutes, before Zrion looked toward Zephan. "What do you think of all this?" he asked.

The ottsel looked up at him. "About what, exactly?"

Zrion gestured around him. "All of this. The rebels, kidnapping Monica, everything."

Zephan hesitated. "I'm not happy about it. They took my student. They shot at us, nearly destroyed our house. But I'm thinking maybe we don't have the whole story."

Zrion gave him a sharp look. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, why are they going through so much trouble for this?" Zephan asked. "They've lost a lot of people already, but they're refusing to back down. There has to be a reason they're willing to risk so much for seemingly nothing. There's no logic here, no strategy. Maybe the initial assassination attempt, but they should have known when to quit. They've started a war they can't win, and for what?"

Zrion frowned. "You're right, it doesn't make sense. Something had to have pushed them to this. But what?"

"You want my opinion?" Zephan asked. "I think it's personal."

That got Zrion's attention. "What?"

"Personal," Zephan repeated. "Whoever's running this op, he's not thinking with a clear head. The rebels don't usually do this kind of thing. When the odds are stacked against them, they cut their losses and run. That's the only way they can survive. But they're not doing that this time. The only thing I can think of is that the guy in charge of this has some vested interest in trying to kill you."

Zrion hummed. "I did kill a lot of rebels at home. Maybe one of them was related to our rebel leader?"

"Maybe," Zephan said. "But something's telling me there's more to it than that."

"Well, that's helpful," Zrion said sarcastically. "But, it doesn't matter. We're here, and—"

"AMBUSH!" someone shouted, off in the distance. A moment later, gunfire erupted all around them. Zrion cursed as he leapt to his feet, quickly pulling his helmet back on and grabbing his rifle. He stepped back outside a moment later, quickly taking in the situation. Rebels had taken up positions in the buildings around them, and were firing down at the assembled guardsmen. How they had managed to get the drop on them like that, Zrion didn't know, but they were going to have to drive them off.

However, before Zrion could give any orders, one of the rebels took notice and aimed a strange-looking weapon at him. With a loud thump, a small object soared down toward him, bouncing along the street. His eyes widened as he realized what it was, and he shouted a warning to Zephan as he dived away.

He wasn't fast enough. The grenade detonated a moment later, sending Zrion flying through the air and crashing painfully against the wall of a nearby building. He slumped to the ground, completely dazed and deafened by the explosion. Worse, the sharp pain in his abdomen spoke of at least one broken rib, and with his eardrums ruptured he'd be unable to give or receive orders.

Groggily, Zrion brought himself up to a sitting position, fumbling for his rifle. He'd been separated from it at some point, and didn't see it anywhere. He hoped it was still intact. As he looked around, he saw groups of rebels charging out into the open, firing upon the pinned guards nearby.

The next thing he noticed was Zephan, lying limp on the ground nearby. He'd been thrown in the opposite direction of Zrion, leaving him out in the open near the rebel lines. He immediately felt panic for his friend, but he saw him stir a moment later and start to pick himself up. A faint glow surrounded his body a moment later as he healed himself, causing Zrion to sigh in relief.

Zephan stood up just in time for a rebel to trip over him, sending them both crashing to the ground with the rebel on top. Cursing, Zephan started punching the man, but it was nothing more than an annoyance to him as he climbed back to his feet. Zephan realized the danger a moment before the rebel grabbed him around his neck, lifting the ottsel up to eye level. He shouted something in Zephan's face, only for the ottsel to spit in his eye in return.

This caused the rebel to start cursing and drop Zephan, who attempted to run away. However, he was grabbed by another rebel before he made it more than a few feet. Zephan responded by biting down on the rebel's hand, causing him to shout in pain. Unfortunately, the rebel didn't release him. Instead, he slammed Zephan's head against the ground, causing the ottsel to go limp.

"Zephan!" Zrion shouted desperately, barely able to hear his own voice. He struggled to stand, but the sharp pain in his ribs caused him to stagger back down. As he watched helplessly, he saw the rebels scoop Zephan up and retreat back into the buildings.

As the guards finally began to respond to the ambush, the gunfire gradually dropped as the rebels retreated in order, leaving six guardsmen dead or wounded in their wake. A few seconds later, Mendoza spotted Zrion and hurried over, shouting something that Zrion couldn't hear.

"WHAT?!" Zrion replied, causing Mendoza to jump. Mendoza said something back and waved someone else over. A moment later, Zrion felt a needle plunge into his neck, followed by a soothing warmth as Green Eco flowed throughout his body. His hearing gradually returned to him as the Eco mended his eardrums, and the sharp ache in his abdomen was reduced to a dull, steady throb.

"Commander, you alright? What the hell happened?" Thompson asked, as he tossed the used needle away.

"Grenade," Zrion replied as he tried to get up.

Mendoza pushed him back down. "Take it easy!" he said. "You took a freaking grenade. It cracked half the armor on your back!"

Zrion blinked. "It did?" He then shook his head. "It doesn't matter! Those bastards took Zephan! We have to get him back!"

"Oh, great," Thompson sighed. "Now we're never gonna be able to make him rest."

"Zrion!" another voice chimed in. Zrion looked to the side in time to see Marcus hurry up. "You okay? Where's Zephan?"

"Gone. Rebels took him," Zrion said shortly. "We're going to get him back."

"Do we have to?" Marcus asked. When Zrion gave him a furious glare in response, he held up his hands in surrender. "It was just a joke, dude. But alright, when are we gonna go after them?"

"As soon as Mendoza lets me stand up, and the rest of my men get here," Zrion replied, giving the gunnery sergeant a pointed look. They stared each other down for a moment before Mendoza finally gave in and helped Zrion stand.

The Green Eco had helped him recover, but Zrion was still sore, and Mendoza hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said that Zrion's armor had taken a beating. It wasn't actually breached, but a spiderweb of cracks had appeared along his legs and lower back. While he was loathe to go into battle at anything less than a hundred percent, he had little choice at the moment.

"Zrion?" Braeburn called, as he jogged up. "The rest of our boys just arrived. Second Echelon's still cleaning house around the city, but they'll be able to link up with us later. Third Echelon's already taking up positions at the rear to give us covering fire. We're as ready as we're gonna be."

"Good," Zrion nodded. "Gather the ground team near the rear. We're gonna make our plan, then we're going to make those bastards pay."

[lawna]

"We're not going to do anything if you get your head out of your ass." Charlie said. "Now, like Byron said, we're going to try to get some kind of deal going-"

"What if I can convince Zrion to stop everything." Monica interrupted. "He's probably got a strong hand in everything. If it's just for me, he's probably in control of everything. If the KG are on guard because of your guys' stupid attempt at a Special Operations officer's life, I'll still try my best."

"Your best," Byron snipped. "Won't be good enough. You are to keep your mouth shut and do as we say, as we say it, understand me?"

Monica huffed. Of course she wouldn't, but she didn't say that, she didn't say anything. She didn't want to risk getting pistol whipped, remembering how bad that slap had felt.

"Byron, we have a whole building of agents. This is all too risky." Roman said. "If you don't just simply let her go, get everyone else out."

"We can't do that yet. We have to assure some things, and we are running out of time." Byron snapped.

The office door flew open, revealing a pale, frightened girl, maybe a little older than Monica. "The forces Elaine sent pulled an ambush on the KG that were holed up in South town. The damage to the enemy was minimal, and even more have joined the KG. They are already moving.

"I told the messenger to tell Elaine I needed more time, that bitch." Byron swore. He then looked from Charlie to where Monica and Roman sat. "And we're out of time."

[Darkjak87]

Zrion took a moment to survey the assembled troops in front of him. Thirty-two soldiers stood ready for the assault, and that wasn’t even counting the Third Echelon snipers that he had backing them up from the rear. It was rare to see this many commandos in one place, as they were usually in high demand and stretched very thin. The fact that they were here now spoke volumes for the lengths Zrion was willing to go to rescue Monica and Zephan.

And yet they were still outnumbered. From what the snipers had been able to determine, there were at least sixty rebels opposing them, and they were heavily dug in. On top of that, they had sniper support of their own. If he wasn’t careful, the guards could take serious casualties.

“So what’s the plan, commander?” Mendoza asked.

“Alright, you all saw those mortars the regulars were setting up? They’re gonna hit the rebels with three barrages. The first two will be regular explosives, the third will be a mix of those and smoke rounds.”

Many of the soldiers nodded as they saw what Zrion had in mind. “We’ve got IR lenses, they don’t,” Braeburn said.

“Exactly,” Zrion nodded. “Once the smokescreen is up, we’ll be able to spot them on thermal vision but they’ll be fighting blind.”

“And it’ll keep their snipers off our asses,” Thompson added.

“Right,” Zrion confirmed.

“What about troop deployment?” Mendoza asked.

“Fourth Echelon is the vanguard. We’re going to split into two fireteams. Angel Team and Shield Team will be Team One. Sword Team and Star Team will be Team Two. We’ll advance with standard fire-and-maneuver tactics.”

“What about us?” Major Knight asked.

“The First Echelon will be running support,” Zrion answered. He pointed out the nearby overpass, where he knew there were rebel snipers lying in wait. “Devil Team and Magma Team will be known as Team Three. Your orders are to fight your way through the buildings up to that overpass. Once it’s secure, you’ll hold position and give us covering fire. Sulfur Team and Meteor Team will be Team Four. You’ll be supporting our flanks on the ground, clearing out the buildings as we go. Questions?”

There were none, so Zrion directed them to take up their positions in preparation for the attack. Zrion watched them work, moving up and bunkering down in the foxholes near the front line. After a moment, he moved up to join them.

A tap on his shoulder caused him to look back, seeing that Marcus had joined him in his trench. “You think we’ll make it?” Marcus asked.

“Oh, we’ll make it,” Zrion said with certainty. “It’s just a matter of whether or not we lose anyone. I’ve done all I can but… War is always a gamble. You can be the best soldier in the world and die just because someone got a lucky shot.”

“Well, that’s inspiring,” Marcus muttered. “What about me?”

Zrion shrugged. “If you see a good shot, go ahead and take it, but you should leave the heavy lifting to us. If it makes you feel any better, the rebels will probably be focusing on us instead of you. Black armored soldiers with heavy weapons tend to attract attention.”

Zrion’s radio crackled before he could say anything else. “We’re all in position, commander. Awaiting your word,” Mendoza reported.

“Copy that,” Zrion answered back. He dialed the radio to another frequency. “Commander Zrion to November One Actual, we’re ready to move out. Begin the bombardment.”

“Roger that, beginning our attack.”

A series of thumps rang out from the rear, and a whistle filled the air as the first wave of mortar shells descended on the rebel lines. The rebels shouted in alarm and tried to get clear, but the shells landed on top of them a few moments later, killing some and blasting apart their fortifications.

Another barrage followed a few seconds later. This one was less effective, since the rebels knew it was coming and had already taken cover. Finally, the third barrage hit home, the explosions supplemented by enormous clouds of white smoke that obscured the rebel lines.

“All units, switch to thermal!” Zrion shouted, thumbing a switch on the side of his helmet. Immediately, his vision became shades of blue, red, and orange, the smoke all but disappearing. The flames left behind by the explosions stood out the most, the bright orange blobs distinct from the soft, human-shaped shades of red of the people near them.

“Begin the advance!” Zrion ordered, climbing out of his foxhole. The rest of his men followed his lead, a collective battle-cry going up as the black tide emerged from cover.

The rebels immediately opened fire, but their shots went wide as they were unable to see through the smoke. The soldiers returned fire a moment later, to much greater effect. Zrion saw a few of the rebels stumble and fall within seconds, while the rest were forced to take cover.

It wasn’t long before the soldiers reached the first line of the rebel defenses, which consisted of clusters of sandbags behind which they were taking cover. By now, the rebels had a better idea of where Zrion’s soldiers were, but it did them little good. One of them popped out, taking aim at Zrion, but Zrion fired first, putting two shots in his chest. Zrion climbed over the sandbag wall a moment later, sweeping the area for more. There were a few stragglers, but there were quickly cut down as his men overran the position.

Zrion knelt down behind cover as he surveyed the next line of rebel defenses. It was similar to the first, but more heavily defended. Moreover, they were already prepared for the attack. “Grenadiers! Hit the next line!” Zrion called out.

Thumps rang out a few moments later, and grenades detonated, scattering the rebels and blowing holes in their defenses. It wasn’t enough, however. The survivors immediately returned fire, forcing Zrion to take cover again.

“Sir, we’re gonna get pinned!” Mendoza warned.

Zrion pressed his hand to his earpiece. “Team Four, lay down suppressive fire. Rockets are authorized.”

Zrion heard a gleeful whoop over the radio, followed by a loud roar as a pair of rockets flew forth, blasting through the rebel fortifications. This was followed by a heavy barrage of machine gun fire, forcing the rest of them down.

“Flamers, move up!” Zrion ordered. “Everyone else, cover them!”

Two of the soldiers, each with a fuel tank on his back connected to a heavy weapon, began to move up. A moment later, great gouts of flame erupted, sweeping across the rebel fortifications. Screams of agony and terror rang out, and many of the rebels broke ranks and ran, leaving the way clear.

“Go, go! Keep moving forward!” Zrion shouted. The soldiers obliged immediately, charging ahead to the next line of defenses. That was when they ran into their next obstacle; a rapid series of shots erupted from the rebels ahead, quickly forcing the soldiers into cover.

“What the hell was that?” Zrion shouted.

“Vulcan fury! Light machine gun made by the Underground!” Braeburn informed him. “Nasty little things, and at least as good as what Knight’s boys are packing.”

“Great. Solutions?”

“Just one. We’ve still got our grenades. The problem is throwing them without getting our heads blown off,” Braeburn replied.

“Can you put up an Eco shield?” Mendoza asked.

Zrion shook his head. “I could make one, but you wouldn’t be able to throw a grenade through it.”

“Snipers?” Thompson suggested.

Zrion pressed his hand to his ear again. “Overwatch? This is Zrion, do you read?”

“Swain here, reading you five-by-five, over.”

“We’ve got machine guns up ahead, and they’re pinning us down. Prioritize the gunners.”

“Affirmative,” he replied.

Over the next couple of minutes, the amount of fire being directed their way lessened as the gunners were eliminated. “Okay, that’s most of them. Mendoza, Braeburn, toss some grenades!”

The two of them produced a single grenade each and pulled the pins. They tossed them over the barricade a moment later. A pair of explosions rocked the street four seconds later.

“Alright, move up!” Zrion shouted, bounding over the sandbags. The rest of his men followed after him, laying down suppressive fire on any survivors. There were a few left, but they had been scattered by the grenades and were still pinned by Swain’s snipers. They offered little resistance as the soldiers overwhelmed them.

“Swain, what’s up ahead?” Zrion said into his radio, after taking cover again.

“Still got that overpass ahead. We’ve put down three snipers so far, but there’s more. If you head out now, there’s a good chance they’ll take shots at you.”

“Guess we’re waiting on Team Three,” Zrion muttered. As if on cue, gouts of flame erupted up above, and screams reached his ears as the rebels were burned alive by flamethrowers. A moment later, a flaming corpse fell off the overpass, landing limply on the street ahead.

A soldier poked his head out, looking down at the soldiers. “Hope you boys like barbeque!” he called after them. “Way is clear, we’ll cover you!”

Zrion gave him a wave and ordered his men forward. True to their word, tracer rounds began bombarding the rebels from the overpass, keeping them pinned. A wave of grenades followed a moment later, scattering the rest. Zrion and his men opened fire themselves as they continued their own advance, putting as much pressure on the Underground as possible.

Seeing the writing on the wall, the rebels began trying to fall back, but that just made them targets for the soldiers. In short, they were stuck between a rock and a hard place; retreating would expose them, but if they stayed put, they’d be overrun. It was not a good day to be a member of the Underground.

Zrion’s team reached the next line of defenses a moment later. It had already been abandoned, so it offered the soldiers cover as they continued to fire on the rebels. To make matters worse for them, they were now within flamethrower range, and the gouts of fire quickly broke whatever semblance of discipline the rebels had left.

The rebels broke down soon after that, most of them simply trying to run away. Those that remained to fight were either shot or incinerated. The rest were simply cut down by the snipers as they tried to flee. Soon, the street was silent once more.

---

“And that is the 253rd thing I’m going to do to your mothers when I get out of here!” Zephan roared, continuing to hurl telekinetic force against the cell door, to no avail. “And the other hamburger will ALSO be made out of her lungs! That’s 254!”

“Precursors, I can’t believe he’s still at it,” one of the rebels outside complained.

“Yeah, I know. He’s a freaking psychopath.” His partner grimaced. “Can’t we gag him or something?”

“Tried it. The last time someone went in there, he started screaming and came back with one of his eyes gouged out,” the first one replied.

“Ugh…This job sucks,” the second groaned.

“Form a union!” Zephan said heartlessly.

The first reached and banged on the door. “Hey! Shut the hell up and stop threatening us, you little freak!”

“Threatening? Oh no, that wasn’t threatening,” Zephan said darkly. “This is threatening!” He took a breath.

---

Five minutes later, the two rebels were banging on the door to Byron’s office, begging for an early end to their shift.

After letting them in and hearing their story, Byron sighed and shook his head. “You two are pathetic. Zephan’s two feet tall, and you’re running scared because he’s yelling at you?” he asked incredulously.

“Sir, trust me, when you listen to him for a few hours…” They both shivered.

Byron rubbed his temples. “It’s either this or being sent to fight those commandos headed our way. What’s it gonna be?”

“The commandos!” They both said immediately. Byron blinked, obviously surprised at their choice.

“Fine!” he snapped. “Grab a couple of guns and meet up with Vasha’s group down the street!”

The two looked torn between worry and relief, but gave Byron nods and went to do as ordered.

“Honestly, we’ll let anyone in these days,” Byron grumbled to himself as he went back to his desk.

[lawna]

When the skirmisher had fell through the door with a black and white, limp piece of fur in his fist, Monica jumped up in recognition.

"Zephan!" she exclaimed, only to have a gun pressed to her forehead in immediate response.

"Sit down," Byron ordered. Monica obeyed immediately, partly because Roman was pulling her back down and because she was falling back in shock and fear.

"This little bastard was on the battle scene to the South. Elaine doesn't want him, and thought you might enjoy it's presents." the rebel explained.

Monica tried to reach out to Zephan, and was only able to get a general picture of his health without her eco actually touching him. He seemed alright, just knocked out. Concussions must be the trademark of the Underground.

"What the hell do I want with a dead rat?" Byron snapped.

"He's not dead, for now," the rebel said, giving Zephan a little shake that made Monica grind her teeth.

"We can keep him in a room in the next hallway. Show him the one I mean Roman." Charlie said, looking pointedly at Roman. "Get a couple of guards to watch it, since he has that telekinesis stuff."

Monica really needed to learn to filter herself. Not that she ever would have expected that her stories would be used against her, and her family, but this had to be a lesson learned.

Roman didn't feel comfortable leaving Monica alone where he couldn't have a say in things, but he still hadn't forgot about the prospect of the older men punishing him for insubordination. Therefore, he felt he had no choice but to stand up and lead the fellow Underground fighter out of the office and to the room he knew Charlie was talking about.

On his way out, he passed a couple of guys he felt were competent enough to guard the room of a knocked out Ottsel.

"Hey, Charlie wants you to guard the room the Ottsel's going to be put in." Roman said as he passed by.

Both guys looked at him, eyebrows raised.

"It's an Ottsel." One of the men said, speaking slowly like they were talking to a toddler.

"Charlie wants you to guard the room," Roman said again, tone matching the tone of the guy who had spoken.

They both grumbled as they stood, and Roman opened the door to the room. It wasn't anything but a storage room that had been emptied, nothing but metal shelves along the back and left wall.

Roman stepped aside, thinking the rebel would at least have the decency to lay Zephan out, but instead literally threw him in, like rolling a bowling ball down the alley. Zephan did a somersault, making a final landing on the side of his body.

"Really?" Roman criticized.

"I'm sorry, friend of yours?" the rebel quipped back.

Roman shook his head, at least having the decency to flip the light switch on for the Ottsel, and headed back to the office, hoping that nothing had happened while he had been gone.

On his way back, Roman was stopped by a group of five or six people, he didn't take the time to count exactly.

"We hear the KG is coming for the girl that's in the office." A woman said, perhaps the group's spokeswoman.

"Yeah?" Roman said, putting a lift in the word, not wanting to confirm anything.

"Yeah," she replied. "And there are multiple KG and Special Operations everywhere. The obvious is that they are looking for her, whoever she is. The other is that it's another Clearing Out, like what they did after the Recruit Assassinations. So, we want to know what the fuck is going on. If it's another Clearing, we're out."

Roman's heart clenched. A Clearing? Now? Zrion wouldn't, they were just looking for her, that's what it had to be.

"Like I would know anything." Roman snapped. "You're going to have to ask the big boss about it."

With that, Roman, the Ottsel Deliverer, and the spokeswoman followed Roman back into the office.

"Byron," the spokewoman demanded first. "What the Hell is going on with the girl?"

"Well Kathy, this is Monica Lorenzo, goddaughter to Commander James Zrion of Special Operations. She is our distinguished guest." Byron articulated.

"Are you important enough that Daddy would have a Clearing Out, Princess?" Kathy sneered to Monica.

She didn't know what a 'Clearing Out' was, but she thought it was a rhetorical question anyway. Byron answered for her.

"Calm down, it's not a Clearing Out. They wouldn't risk it again, especially not just for her."

"Not just for me?" Monica asked, eyebrows furrowed. "How about me, trying to kill Zrion, and then taking Zrion's best friend. That sounds like a pretty shitty day to me."

Kathy looked from Monica to Byron, and then announced, "I'm getting out of here."

Before she could make good on her promise, the guys Roman more or less assigned to Zephan's door knocked on the office door, and fell in.

Monica smirked as they left again a few minutes later. She would pick the commandos too.

[Darkjak87]

“Area is secured, commander,” Mendoza reported.

Zrion nodded to him, and turned his attention to the building in front of him. The windows were blocked, steel plates bolted over them, and the front door was most likely barricaded on the other side as well. The rebels knew they’d been beaten, and were now digging in their heels in hopes of killing as many of Zrion’s soldiers as possible.

Zrion scowled at the thought. He would be the first to educate them on why further resistance was pointless, not that surrendering would save them. He may have reeled in his rage since his squad had talked some sense into him, but the people in this house were the ones responsible for this mess to begin with. If anyone deserved to feel his fury, it was them.

“Stand clear, I’m going to blast the door,” Zrion said gruffly. His body lit up with a red glow, which gave way to orange as he fused both Red and Yellow Eco in his body. The other soldiers quickly scrambled away, having become all-too-familiar with what Zrion could do with Eco over the past few years.

“I hate it when he does this,” Braeburn grumbled. “I feel like standing too close will make me sterile or something.”

“That’s stupid,” Thompson said. “It makes no sense, and didn’t you say you don’t want kids anyway?”

“Everyone shut up,” Zrion said through gritted teeth as he struggled to maintain his focus. “I'm trying not to burn you all alive!”

That killed the conversation instantly. A few seconds later, Zrion was satisfied with his build-up, and with a loud shout, he drove a glowing fist into the door with all his might while simultaneously releasing a surge of Eco at the point of contact. The door didn’t stand a chance—it immediately fractured around the middle, only to be vaporized an instant later as the Orange Eco washed over it. Furthermore, the force continued past, blasting away the pile of furniture that had been stacked up on the other side.

The rebels positioned in the hallway shouted in surprise as the door was so quickly annihilated, and several were even knocked over by the flying pieces of furniture. Before they could recover, Zrion charged into the building and opened fire with his assault rifle, quickly putting down the rebels closest to him.

The rest returned fire immediately, and Zrion ducked into a nearby room, just barely dodging the bolts of Eco. A moment later Mendoza followed after him, laying down suppressive fire and drawing the rebels’ attention. While they were distracted, Zrion leaned out from behind cover and fired another burst, not striking anything but forcing the rebels to fall back further down the hall.

Braeburn charged in next, Thompson close on his heels, and Angel Team advanced in a single rank down the hall, the rebels hopelessly outgunned by their automatic firepower.

“Monica!” Zrion shouted over the din. “Zephan! Where are you?!”

A muffled shout reached his ears in response. Zrion couldn’t make out the words, but much to his relief, it sounded like Zephan’s distinctively grumpy tone.

The soldiers pressed forward relentlessly, driving the rebels deeper into the house and scattering them into different sections once they reached the end of the hallway.

“Alright, you three mop up!” Zrion ordered. “I’ll look for Zephan and Monica!”

While the rest of Angel Team spread out and began hunting down the remaining rebels, Zrion began kicking down doors and searching rooms. In some of them, there were terrified noncombatants, but Zrion simply ignored them and continued his search. His rage had not yet been sated, but he would no longer try and take out his fury on those who were not responsible for it.

Following the shouts, Zrion burst down another door, revealing a repurposed bedroom with a steel-backed door up ahead, most likely a former closet. Making his way over, Zrion pounded on it a few times. “Zephan! You in there?”

“About time you showed up!” Zephan complained, his voice muffled by the door. “Hurry up and get me out of here! My tail itches and the only cure is the blood of morons!”

Zrion’s body glowed with Red Eco and he gripped both sides of the door. With a strong pull, he tore the door right off its hinges, revealing an impatient-looking ottsel with slightly unkempt fur.

“You alright?” Zrion asked, tossing the door aside with a loud clang.

“I’m annoyed, but otherwise yes.” Zephan nodded. “Have you found Monica yet?”

Zrion shook his head. “Working on it. She’s in here somewhere, though.”

“Well, let’s go get her!” Zephan said. “And try to leave survivors. I have a few promises to keep that involve a steak knife and the black market.” With a murderous gleam in his eye, the ottsel turned and marched back out into the hallway, his clenched fists glowing with green energy.

“You’re welcome…” Zrion muttered before following after him.

The gunfire was dying down as the number of rebels steadily declined in the wake of Angel Team’s continued assault. A cursory inspection of the hallway showed that it was safe for now. Most of the rooms had already been cleared out, but there were still a few that Zrion hadn’t gotten to yet, so he figured he’d start there.

Deciding his assault rifle was too bulky for such tight quarters, he slung it across his back and instead opted for his pistol, flipping off the safety and gripping it with both hands as he made his way down the hall. He pressed his ear against the next door for a moment, listening for any signs of activity.

He caught a few whispers, but they were quickly hushed after the speakers apparently sensed his presence. Nodding grimly, Zrion took a few steps back, aimed his shoulder toward the door, and charged into it like a football player.

He didn’t add any extra force with Red Eco this time, but between the armor and his already large form, the door didn’t stand a chance. It was knocked wide open, revealing a room occupied by four people—three men, and a girl.

Zrion’s gaze lingered on the two in the corner for the briefest of moments. Monica was curled up against the wall, her knees drawn up to her chin and her eyes wide with fear. The other one was Roman, standing in front of her and facing Zrion with a glare that matched the soldier’s own.

The other two men gave shouts and aimed their weapons at Zrion. Snapping his gaze toward them, Zrion raised his pistol and fired a single shot at the one on the left. The bullet drilled through his head effortlessly, blowing a massive hole out the back of his head.

“Charlie!” his partner shouted. “You’re gonna pay for that, you bastard!” he screamed at Zrion, taking aim and firing a few shots.

Zrion didn't have time to dodge, but the shooter was using a pistol, and the shots only connected with his cuirass, the thickest part of his armor. It caused him to stumble back a few steps, but that was it.

Zrion recovered quickly, and he took aim and fired three more times in rapid succession, putting two bullets in the man’s chest, and one in the head. It went without saying that he didn’t get back up after that.

Roman suddenly shouted in rage and charged toward Zrion, his body flaring with Yellow Eco. In response, Zrion whirled to face him, taking aim at Roman’s chest as he was trained. But a sudden thought struck him and caused him to hesitate. This is the bastard responsible for this… A quick death is too good for him.

That in mind, Zrion aimed lower, and put a bullet straight into Roman’s belly, stopping him in his tracks. He and Zrion glared at each other for a few moments while blood oozed from the wound, but eventually, Roman swayed and collapsed in a heap, retching and clutching at his ruined abdomen.

“Gut shot,” Zephan remarked as he entered the room. “Those are nasty.”

“So I hear,” Zrion agreed, watching Roman carefully as he slid his pistol back into its holster. “Keep an eye on him.”

With no one else in the way, Zrion quickly made his way over to Monica, who was currently looking between the three dead or dying rebels with an expression of horror. To Zrion’s surprise, when she looked at him, her expression was almost angry. He was mystified by this, but he was too happy to see her to worry about that now.

“Monica! Thank god you’re alright!” he said in relief. He pulled off his helmet and tossed it aside, revealing his gaunt, sweaty face. He then wrapped his arms around Monica in a desperate hug.

Monica didn’t return the embrace, but he released her a moment later and backed up a few feet, looking her over for injuries. “Monica? Are you alright? Did they hurt you?” Zrion asked urgently. That was when he noticed the bruises, her bloodied nose, and her puffy red eyes.

Rage filled him as he saw the clear evidence of abuse, and he stormed over to Roman, who’d managed to roll over onto his back. “You piece of shit,” Zrion growled, clenching his fists. “Did you really think you would get away with this? That I wouldn’t find you?”

Before Roman could answer, Zrion’s fist glowed with Yellow Eco, and he extended an arm. Roman screamed in agony a moment later as yellow flames splashed against his leg, the smell of burnt flesh filling the room as his skin boiled away.

Zrion cut the flow a moment later, leaving a Roman panting and groaning as he clutched as his smoldering leg. “I’ll make you pay for every bruise, every cut you gave her,” Zrion said.

[lawna]

"Do you think there could be a Clearing Out?" Roman asked, heart and yellow eco thudding inside of him.

"Don't be stupid." Byron snapped back. "There won't be a Clearing Out."

"What's a Clearing Out?" Monica quietly asked, curiosity and the relevance the term seemed to have finally making her ask.

"A Clearing Out," Byron snipped. "Is exactly what it sounds like. The KG enter a building full of people, and the KG are the only ones that walk out."

Her brow came together and her eyes narrowed, still not understanding, and then her eyes went wide when she did. "Zrion wouldn't do that."

"Monica, he already has." Roman said, as gently as he could. He didn't want her mad at him again. "That's how Larissa and Charlie's wife both died. If he didn't shoot them himself, he was surely there, killing others."

Monica wanted to argue, but couldn't bring herself to anymore. Apparently, wherever Zrion was, he might be there soon.

That thought was punctuated with a hellacious noise coming from... Well, to be honest, she didn't know if it was the front, back or side of the house, but it was followed by the sound of gun shots, and a few screams.

"Get against the wall," Roman demanded, grabbing her by the arm to avoid any confused delays. He put he in the corner furthest from the door and said, "Don't move unless I tell you to."

Charlie slipped out of the office door quickly and silently, and returned as quickly as he left. "They're here. They've swarmed."

That caused Byron to swear, quietly, but he used some words that Monica didn't even know the meaning of. Gunshots still sounded, getting less consistent as time went on. Who was shooting who?

"Let me go. They'll stop once they see me." Monica whispered, standing up and grabbing Roman's shirt in desperation. "They won't hurt anyone else."

"They will hurt you Monica. You aren't going anywhere. They will kill you."

Monica thought she heard somebody call her name. "Please Roman, I don't want you getting hurt. They'll stop."

"Shut up," Byron snapped. Monica was getting tired of him saying that to her.

"You people are going to get yourselves killed," Monica said, the tears running down her face betraying the venom she had tried to put into her voice. She slid herself back down the wall and sat in the corner Roman had put her in.

As a final stab to Monica's heart, Charlie hissed, "Do you doubt the savageness of your soldier now?"

There was a second of silence, and then the door was down.

The last time Monica had been frightened of Special Operation's armor would have been when she first starting staying with Zrion, but that fear was rekindled in her tenfold when she saw Zrion standing there, his hand gun at the ready. Then, he raised it to put a bullet though Charlie's skull.

Monica was glad she had missed out on eating today, because she would have thrown it up on the floor. However, that didn't stop a couple of dry heaves from coming up, hurting her whole body.

And then it was Bryon, and Monica jumped at each shot. Zrion was unharmed by the one Byron had fired at him, and Zrion followed up with three of his own shots, each harming Byron until he was officially killed.

His wife died today, and Zrion had killed her too.

Then Roman left the spot he had given himself in front of Monica, and she almost reached out to stop him. Roman would be safer if he stayed near her.

And then a fifth shot, and Monica didn't want to know who was hurt by it, until she couldn't take the suspense any longer.

Roman laid on the floor, blood blooming from his torso like a demented flower.

Then, Zrion winged his helmet off and got on his knees to hug her in the corner. The corner she was put in to be protected from him, or any other commando that came through the door.

He asked her something, but she was too shocked to hear it, or properly understand. Zrion didn't wait for an answer either, before looking ferocious and going back to a dying Roman.

She didn't hear what he said, but she saw the armful of yellow eco, and heard Roman scream.

This was enough.

"Zrion, stop it!" Monica screamed, scrambling upright. Before she knew it, she was pushing Zrion, using her whole body against his, to get him away. "You proved them all right! You will kill just anybody."

[Darkjak87]

Monica's shout immediately caused Zrion to cut the flow, but her next words hit him like a slap across the face. He was so surprised that he didn't resist as she shoved him, causing him to stumble away from Roman and leaving Monica standing between them.

He stared at her in disbelief for a few moments, a combination of hurt and confusion on his face. Proved them right? That I'll kill anyone? What have they been saying to her?

However, Zrion was a rational man. He was smart enough not to jump to conclusions, so he didn't do anything stupid. Instead, he gave Monica a level look. "Monica, what are you talking about?" he asked calmly. "These people kidnapped you, tried to kill us all, and now you're protecting them?"

Zephan sighed and muttered something.

"What?" Zrion asked him.

"Stockholm syndrome," Zephan said louder. "When hostages become sympathetic to their captors. This could be bad."

Zrion returned his attention to Monica. "Just move aside, Monica," he said soothingly. "This guy doesn't deserve your help."