PARIAH - An Imperial Dragon Story

[Imperial Dragon]

PARIAH is a story that I've had the idea for for some time, but I've only recently begun real work on it with the help of some of the people on here. Basically it's just here for you to read and hopefully enjoy, but I would really appreciate feedback (positive or negative) and any advice you can give me on how to improve it. So, here's the prologue, detailing the events leading up to the main storyline. Enjoy, and let me know what you think :)



PARIAH

Prologue

This is a tale of a world sent to hell by greed, ambition, discrimination and hatred, and of the people forced to endure its downfall. But like any tale, ours has a beginning in happier times.

In 2028 AD, a group of scientists from France, Germany and the United Kingdom created the Magnesium Photon Explosion Cell energy system. MPEC creates large amounts of energy in a continuous process, produces no waste products and requires no resource inputs after the initial set-up Soon, MPEC reactors were erected across the three countries, providing their populace with very cheap, environmentally friendly energy. Their economies boomed and new scientific paths were unlocked by this new power source. MPEC technology is sold throughout the EU, but not outside its borders. Despite pressure from the USA, Russia and the newly industrialised China and India, the EU states refused to sell the technology that had made their countries great.

This left the rest of the nations of the world still defendant on fossil fuels, while the European energy industries producing everything except MPEC energy collapsed. Micro-MPEC systems replaced the combustion engine and all European industry ran on MPEC energy. Global oil stock decreased at an ever increasing rate as the poorer nations of Asia and the Americas began to industrialise, and oil prices continued to rise. International tensions rose as the richer countries outside of Europe argued over the remaining fossil fuel reserves. 2036 saw the defining moment of the political 21st century: the formation of the European Diplomatic Confederacy. The nations that comprised the EU decided to group together as states of one "super-nation", each keeping their individuality and area governments but deferring leadership to one major elected government in Paris.

In 2038 the USA economy went into free-fall, out-competed by the new EDC in every market. As the fear of world war loomed ever closer, the United Nations was converted into the Global Peace Council, comprising members of every nation in the world and tasked with preventing World War III at any cost. The GPC based itself in Tokyo. With the EDC going from strength to strength, leading the world in every field and pioneering new, advancing technologies, other nations saw the benefit of what had been done in Paris in 2036. In 2040 Russia, China and India banded together to create the United States of Free Asia, their headquarters in Moscow. By 2041 the USA had opened up it's borders to the rest of the continent, allowing migrant workers to work wherever they chose in an attempt to save the country's flagging economy and international standing. Race riots flared up across the USA in protest.

The economies of the Asian nations outside of the USFA reached dangerous levels, their governments fearing dissolution and anarchy. In response, the USFA started accepting new members, with countries such as Pakistan, Bangladesh, Kazakhstan and Korea being subsumed into the USFA conglomerate, but still even the USFA itself was struggling to meet the rising demand for fuel. In 2048 the seeds of war were sown. The USFA invaded the nations surrounding its borders that refused to join the super-nation. Georgian resistance forces were crushed without mercy. Myanmar and Vietnam burnt. Afghanistan was reduced to a cratered hell, and the GPC proved powerless to stop the Asian assaults. The USFA changed its name to the United States of Imperialist Asia, and closed it's borders, Japan becoming the only economic power left in Asia free from the USIA's control. The Americas finally joined the super-nation movement and formed the United Nations of the Americas, one country covering the whole continent controlled from Washington DC. The USIA then embarked on the biggest militarisation since the cold war, followed shortly by the UNA and EDC, as the world spiralled towards Armageddon

In 2050 the EDC's Vortex missile defence satellite system went live, a network which Paris claimed could destroy any missile, nuclear or otherwise, in flight by electronic interference before it could cause any damage. This did nothing to erase the international tensions, the UNA and USIA accusing the EDC of planning to use Vortex for military purposes. The GPC then ordered the EC to sell its technology overseas in a bid to cool the international situation. The EC refused and threatened military action against any party who came out in opposition of it's decision. On the 1st December 2050 a special forces team was caught attempting to steal MPEC blueprints from a EDC base in London, sparking an international incident. Even before tensions had died down over the attempted robbery, the chancellor of the GPC was assassinated en-route to an emergency assembly in Tokyo on the 13th December. The GPC instantly dissolved in anarchy. The special forces team from London confessed to being hired by the UNA. Information was leaked onto the internet incriminating the USIA with the chancellor's assassination and the global situation went supercritical. On New Year's Eve 2050 the three superpowers all declared themselves to be in a state of war with one another. Welcome to World War III.

***

Blinding white light. All she wanted to do was fall asleep, shut her eyes and escape the light. That was all her life was made up of: white light, nothing else but she couldn't sleep. Nothing to see, nothing to hear, nothing to touch, nothing to taste, nothing to smell, nothing to feel. Her mind was completely cut off from reality but something was keeping her awake. Fragments of memory and emotion flickered into her consciousness like a flame in the wind before something snuffed them out, dragging them into the abyss. She heard the explosion. She smelt the burning oil, burning metal, burning skin. She saw him roll out of the wreckage, his blackened body backlit by flames. She felt the wind rushing through her hair as she fell, the jarring impact of metal on bone. She tasted blood on her lips. She ran, or at lest she thought she did. These feelings did not seem familiar, as if they were something that should have happened but never did. Even as she considered the strange things she was experiencing in her waking dream, the feelings were taken away again, lost forever. A waking dream, is that what her world was? She could not sleep, she could not dream, but was she awake? She wanted to sleep. It felt right to sleep. The flickering emotions were fading now, shouting voices and running. Running forever. Her world flashed black and became empty once again, the blinding white light. She should sleep. Sleep. Sleep was coming, at last. Sleep. Sleep well, one-zero-one.


- NEXT SECTION COMING SOON -

[Imperial Dragon]

Sorry about the double post, but here's the rest of the stuff that I've written so far:


PARIAH

Chapter One - Descent

Jan woke with a start as an earthquake shook his bunk. He sat up and hit his head on the bottom of the bunk above, which did nothing to improve his headache. The room itself seemed to move, the metal floor and walls ringing with vibrations both from the initial shock wave and from the pounding impacts of leather boots. Jan hauled himself out of bed, pulled his own boots on, picked up his kit bag and staggered upright, peering bleary-eyed at his surroundings. It was only then that he noticed the noise. Alarm sirens were blaring out of the speaker systems on the ceiling, suddenly drowned out by another crashing noise which made the room tremble again. Suddenly a hand gripped his shoulder and pushed him towards the door, forcing a rifle into his empty hands as he moved. Jan shook himself to his senses as he stumbled out of the bunk room, confronted by a swarm of soldiers running towards the staircases at the end of the corridor he now found himself in. The man who had helped him out of the room ran in the same direction, shouting at him to follow. Now fully aware of where he was, Jan gripped his rifle and ran along the metal-walled passage, still trying to make sense of what was going on. "This is an evacuation," he told himself, "so why are we evacuating the whole place for an earthquake?" The realisation dawned on him and he stopped running, other soldiers barging past him in panic. "How can this be an earthquake? We're flying."

The press of men continued up the stairs to emerge on one of the walkways that made up the inner deck of the aircraft carrier. Before them a deep steel gorge dropped away to the keel of the airship. The expanse was lined with walkways identical to the one they were on, over a hundred of them on both sides of the gorge and all of them crowded with men. Thick, metal beams ran the length of the walkways before disappearing into great holes at the far right-hand end of the space, suspended out into the void between the decks. Still soldiers were pouring out of the stairwells until thousands of men were lining the platforms, checking their weapons, fitting armour plates from their bags and shouting over the din to one another. Jan checked his own equipment then pulled his helmet from his bag and held it under his arm. Another juddering crash shook the ship and Jan could see some of the men on the other deck stumble and fall perilously close to the edge of the walkway, before their comrades hauled them back to their feet and safety. As the noise of the explosion faded it was replaced by a low grinding noise. Large aircraft suspended on cables started to move out of the hangar ports at the end of the decks and along the beams. As the men readied themselves a loud, stern voice crackled over the speakers.

"This is European aircraft carrier Charon command to all storm trooper units. Prepare for boarding. Squad sergeants stand to attention on the assembly platform and sound off. All storm troopers are to find their captain, group up behind them and prepare to board. This is an evacuation order, we are under attack, repeat we are under attack. Democracy protects, ladies and gentlemen, and god speed."

Sergeant Jan Taylor pushed his way to the front of the mass of men as everyone started to move, stood in the yellow square on the edge of the walkway and placed his helmet on his head, sliding his visor into place. He then raised both arms above his head and spoke a command word into his helmet microphone. Lines of LEDs than ran from his shoulder to his wrist illuminated yellow, as did another line that passed from his forehead to the base of his skull. His helmet also projected a hologram of a yellow square into the air in front of him, marked with -084- in black type. "Squad zero-eight-four proceed to marker, over." The drop ships had started scrolling past his position, their bodywork the same deep blue colour as Jan's armour. They were roughly box-shaped with a curved nose that housed the pilot and gunners. The mid-section was taken up by an open-sided bay area, over which two armoured wings swept. The wings were folded up to allow the troops to board. The armour plates then curved upwards to form a tail, from which extruded two more thin metal wings and a fin, running along the back of the craft for stability. An automated missile turret was built into the underside of the tail. Each ship was printed with a coloured stripe along its blue armour, each stripe bearing the three-digit number of the squad that it carried. The last member of Jan's team stepped into position just as the drop ship marked -084- slid into place. All along the walkways sergeants lowered their arms, deactivated their lights and led their men onto the waiting drop ships as another explosion rocked the carrier. Jan and the rest of 084 did the same.

The inner decks were filled with the roar of MPEC thrusters as each drop ship powered up. White fire licked out of drop ship 084's VTOL engines and it's wings started to unfold. The pilot cut retracted the cables holding the ship in place and the vessel bucked as it was released, threatening to throw its charges overboard. Jan and his men scrambled to their feet and locked themselves into their seats inside the drop ship's hold. As the ship lifted free of its restraints metallic strips extended from the seats over each squad member's shoulders and under their arms, attaching them to the seat like it was a backpack. The troopers stuffed their now empty kit bags in the compartments above each seat and held on as they rose into the air. Jan slid his visor up and grinned at the men and women under his command: Privates Toshak, Fernandez, Smith, Hella, Jones, Fritz, the Tomasson brothers and Ramirez, his second in command.

"Everyone ready?" He shouted over the noise of the engines. "This is going to be one hell of a bumpy ride, so hang on and we'll make it down alive." The other soldiers nodded through their visors as Jan replaced his. The drop ship pulled free of the inner decks and emerged out over the main deck of the Charon. Fighter pilots scrambled into their planes to join the battle over the European carrier fleet. Green and black jets bearing the USIA emblem streaked overhead, strafing the upper deck with machine-gun fire and lancing grounded EDC aircraft with missiles. The Charon shuddered again, but this time Jan could see what was causing the damage. Great bolts of electricity arced upwards into the keel of the airship from the earth below, tearing huge gashes in its armour and destroying its engines one by one. The Asian Tesla battery could barely be seen through the clouds but its effect were devastating, catching smaller aircraft from both sides in the lethal blast as well as the mighty carrier. The drop ship tilted its engines and blasted away from the wreckage of the Charon's upper deck, her pilot trying his best to avoid the ferocious dogfight he found himself in.

Slowly but surely, the Charon was losing altitude. All across the skyline blue and green aircraft duelled amidst the destruction. The rest of the fleet were launching their own fighter squadrons to repel the Asian air force and aid the stricken carrier, but Jan feared it might be too late for his home ship. Another lance of electrical energy flared up from the ground, smashing through the already buckled armour of the Charon and punching deep into the port side. The Tesla bolt was answered by a blinding white flash from inside the ship's hull that even Jan's visor couldn't compensate for. Following that came a rumbling shock wave that caught the drop ship and hurled it off course. The blast would have dislodged the whole squad had they not been strapped into their seats. Squinting through the glare as it faded, Jan gasped at what remained of the Charon. The MPEC generator had been breached and the magnesium core had exploded, tearing the ship apart. Debris fell out of the sky, followed by aircraft and people, all of them plummeting thousands of feet to the earth far, far below. The remaining engines on the wreck flickered and died, sending the shorn fragments of what used to be the Charon tumbling slowly through the sky. Jan was snapped back to more immediate concerns and thrown back in his seat again as a missile struck the drop ship's wing. His headset crackled back into life as he watched the scene, his stricken drop ship abandoning the air battle and making a bid for safety.

"This is European aircraft carrier Charon. Mayday. Mayday. We are going down, request immediate ground support, repeat we are gong down. Mayday. All hands, if any of you are still alive, brace for impact."

The drop ship was struck again, this time from the front. The ship bucked violently, righted itself and then the troop bay lights went out, casting Jan and the rest of 084 into darkness lit only by the chaos in the sky outside. The nose of the craft tilted downwards and smoke started billowing past the bay doors. One of the troopers swore, two or three screamed and the drop ship started to tumble out of the sky, warning lights flickering weakly. Jan opened his mouth to shout something, but another missile hit the ship's amour just behind his head, knocking him forward and stunning him for the third time that morning. He fumbled around for the seat's control panel, his eyes losing focus through the cracked glass of his visor. His gloved fingers closed around the release lever and pulled it back just as he slipped into unconsciousness. The last thing he remembered was tumbling out of the side of what was left of the drop ship, clouds, earth and sky merging into an indistinct blur before the darkness claimed him.

[Arateus]

Very nice prologue but im not going to read the rest of the story as I know I'll be hungering for more, A lesson learned well from Tyranidlord...........Cmon! Get postin!!!

[Tyranidlord]

Nice, You've gotten the sci-fi background and feel to it quite well already. Although I can't say much on the storyline because much hasn't happened it's definitely getting that 'shiny' science fiction gloss over your writing.

Keep it up! I'm going to keep my eye on it like you have on my story. :smt023

[Imperial Dragon]

Right, thanks for the interest in this, there's been alot of people viewing the thread and special thanks to the guys who've left comments. The next section is still part of chapter one so follows directly on from Jan falling out of the dropship. I'm experimenting with adding sections that tell some of the narrative in a kind of detatched way then weaving that perspective into the story later. This is also my first go at writing a section of story that isnt just people getting shot, so let me know what you think :)

***


Warsaw, Poland, EDC

Following the desertion of the Ukrainian sector government in 2057 and the breaching of the EDC eastern perimeter the USIA had hoped to secure MPEC schematics from the reactors in Kiev. Were it not for a rapid-response strike effort from the EDC's black-ops storm troopers the Europeans would have lost their main advantage in the war. The strike team were able to infiltrate and destroy the reactors, as well as send a fail-safe EMP pulse through every MPEC system in the Ukraine before the USIA army reached Kiev. Still, the whole operation was merely damage limitation. The Ukraine's revolt opened the gates of the Euro-Russian boundary wall to the USIA forces, giving the Asians free access to the European heartland. With no border walls between the Ukraine and the surrounding EDC nation-states the USIA had only the European army between them and Paris. With the EDC desperately trying to pen the USIA back into the Ukraine and the bulk of the Asian army advancing towards Poland, the USIA began to take control of the eastern front by sheer weight of numbers and the actions of the Ukrainian governors

The polish border was entrenched in a matter of days in response to the USIA advance and both the Belarussian and Romanian detachments of the EDC armed forces began construction of perimeter walls along their Ukrainian borders. The main prow of the Asian army struck the polish border and punched straight through. The polish EDC detachment had had no warning of the scale of the force they were about to face. Outnumbered over a hundred to one, the EDC troops were forced to pull back to Warsaw to regroup and call Paris for reinforcements. Pursued by the USIA every step of the way, the EDC border guards met up with the city defence force in a newly fortified Warsaw, there to await the coming storm. In response the EDC dispatched their elite storm troopers legions, based in Berlin, to remedy the situation. The plan was to invite the USIA in to attack Warsaw, hold the line until the storm troopers arrived and allow them to break the USIA army and force them back towards Kiev. Still, even with the extra support from the rest of Poland, central EDC and the inbound storm troopers the Europeans could still expect to be heavily outnumbered. Nevertheless, the defenders expected their advanced equipment and training to see them through against the hordes of poorly-outfitted Asian soldiers.

The fight went according to plan. The large Asian army were dragged into a city fight, ambushed and outmanoeuvred at every turn by the EDC. Their artillery struggled to make any impression on the battle with their shells shot down in flight by the EDC's computer-guided laser system in the Palace of Culture and Science in central Warsaw. The USIA's vehicles were thwarted by minefields, EMP traps and combat engineer ambushes. The Asians had been stalled, but the battle of Warsaw was turning into one of attrition, in which case there would only be one winner. The EDC badly needed the support from Berlin, and quickly.

The EDC's storm troopers were the most elite fighting force in the union, drawn from the special forces units of the more powerful European nations from before the unification act. The storm troopers have the best equipment and training the EDC can buy and are used as a lethal strike force to capture areas that the rank and file European army could not touch. Deploying from sleek, stealth-camouflaged, heavily armed drop ships and armed with close-quarters, urban warfare weaponry, they were a force to be feared. However, their main asset was their method of arriving at the battlefield: The Virtue-class Aircraft carrier.

These vessels were larger versions of 20th century marine aircraft carriers, but with the invention of MPEC energy the EDC were able to create repulsorlift engines powerful enough to make these vast constructs fly. The Virtue-class was capable of carrying a full storm trooper legion, their drop ships and vehicles and well as squadrons of combat aircraft. The fighters and bombers would launch from the main deck, as they would in a marine carrier but the main addition is a cleft down the centre of the airship, from which the storm troopers board and the drop ships launch. In the case of the battle of Warsaw, five such vessels were dispatched from Berlin to the polish capital.

However, the USIA had anticipated a strong EDC push for air superiority, having encountered Virtue carriers before in the early stages of the war. Even without MPEC power, the Asians had made several leaps forward during the reinvigorated arms race and one of their main focal points was Tesla weaponry. With the newly industrialised Asian nations producing huge quantities of electricity through nuclear power and burning fossil fuels, the USIA created huge energy storage cells for the project. Streaming electrical energy through a modified rail gun produced an inverted lightning bolt effect, forming an incredibly powerful anti-aircraft weapon. Tesla weapons were adapted for aircraft and vehicle use, but the crown jewel of the project was the Arc Cannon system. This Tesla weapon dwarfed even space rocket lifters, and it was this weapon that from the fields outside Warsaw shot down the Charon.


***


The sounds of the war seemed muffled, as if happening far away and involving other people. Explosions, the roar of engines, the shouts of dying men and the harsh crack of gunfire all seemed to lose their importance. They were replaced by near silence, punctuated only by the faint cracking of wooden beams and the occasional muted crash of falling masonry. In the background a young girl wept quietly. Jan opened his eyes slowly and found himself staring at a smashed wooden floor coated in shards of glass and blood. His blood. He decided that the next job, now that his eyes were working, was to determine where his arms and legs were. Slowly returning feeling to his limbs, Jan managed to push his face off the floor. He tried to roll over onto his back, but found he could not feel anything from the waist down. He rolled his head back and looked upwards. He was in a civilian house and found himself looking up at the ceiling, or more specifically at a hole in the ceiling. His jet pack was a mass of crumpled metal and spitting sparks. One of his legs was stuck through the wreckage of the ceiling, the other was a bloody mess dangling from his smashed pelvis. Jan groaned and pressed a button on his chest plate, sighing deeply as the painkillers were released through his system.

Kicking at the splintered wood that was holding his left leg in place, Jan managed to pull himself free of the ceiling. As his leg came free the rest of his body slammed into the floor and he collapsed in a crumpled heap, groaning again but more from the impact than pain. He pushed another button on his chest plate and what remained of his jet pack fell apart and slipped off his back. He then rolled onto his back and looked at the mess that used to be his leg. The nanomachines that the storm trooper corps implanted into his blood should have repaired the damage but he presumed they must have lost power, though without his visor it was impossible to tell for certain. Slowly and stiffly he took a power cell from his belt and pushed it into a socket in his neck armour. His suit lit up as the power returned and he sat up to watch his leg knit back together. The scale of the technology available to his unit still amazed him, and within seconds his body was back to normal. He recharged again and gradually stood up, removed his broken helmet and ran a hand through his blonde hair. "I've just survived the destruction of my carrier and my drop ship, fallen three thousand feet, crash-landed through someone's roof and I haven't got a mark on me," he thought to himself. "My equipment's mostly destroyed, I'm unarmed and I've no idea where I am or where any of my squad are. I'm stranded in the middle of a war zone Great." He straightened and turned around, finding himself staring into the tearful eyes of a five year-old girl.

Jan smiled at the girl, but she remained motionless, holding a stuffed bear close to her chest and sniffing. "It's all right, I'm a friend. I'm here to protect you" he said in fluent polish. "Where is your family?" The girl simply shook her head. This was the true cost of the war: not men, not vehicles, not cities or strategic positions, but the innocent lives shattered. Jan took a step towards the girl and she shrank back further into the corner. He held out his hand to her. "My name is Sergeant Jan Taylor, I'm from London in the United Kingdom. I am a European democratic confederacy storm trooper and I was sent here to help save your city. Come with me, we need to make sure you're safe." The girl thought for a moment and then stood, placing her tiny hand in Jan's armoured gauntlet, her other hand holding that of her bear. He lead her down the stairs and towards her front door, where he felt her pulling gently on his arm. "What's wrong?" he asked, "we need to get to an evacuation point, get you somewhere safe." She shook her head and pulled away again. Jan sighed. "You want to stay?" She nodded again and held her bear tight.

Jan looked around the kitchen of the house. The structure of the building was sound, none of the hallmarks of artillery bombardment and the only noticeable damage was the hole that Jan had made in the roof. He walked across the room to a wooden cupboard door, opened it and cleared out some space inside. He then turned and beckoned he little girl over. "Right, I'm not going to try and take you away from the house, so you have to hide in here until I've made the bad people go away, OK?" The girl nodded again and led her bear inside the cupboard. She sat on the floor, surrounded by boxes of food and held the toy close. Jan put his hand on the door to close it. "You must stay here until it's safe, do you understand?" She nodded and he pushed the door closed. Just before the door met the frame, the girl's hand pushed back and Jan stopped. She opened the door again, stood up and hugged Jan's leg armour tightly.

"Teddy says goodbye" she whispered.

[Arateus]

Very nice story Imp. Keep it up or Im chewing yer nads off.

[Tyranidlord]

Bloody hell. That little bit with the girl gave me shivers.

I'm loving the background and the amount of research that you're throwing into the story. With any story that you write about the world, whether it be past, present or future you have to do so much research to make it sound believable. You're doing an awesome job so far, keep it up! :smt023

[Morr]

Very good, just one question, If the Micro MPEC replaced the combustion engine (so, like cars etc) then how come the other countries didn't buy one and recreate it, they could have paid people millions to steal a car.

[Imperial Dragon]

The superpowers closed their borders. Noone can enter or leave each union from outside, so no german could go on holiday to Mexico City, and russian on indian could enter belarus to steal a car. Even if the USIA had paid an EDC citizen to take their car to Moscow, the car would never have made it past the eastern front border walls. The gates are permenantly shut. No boats, no flights, nothing. If someone hijacked a plane to fly it over the border and give the asians/americans the MPEC system on board, the aircraft would be shot down the second it approached the border. On top of that, every MPEC reactor is tagged and monitored by EDC sector government and can be breached remotely at any time (that's what the EDC strike force in Kiev did).

MPEC is the EDC's ace in the hole, it's what gives them the edge over the rest of the world, so they need to safeguard it. Each MPEC/micro-MPEC system is impregnanted with artificial lysosomes within the synthetic membrane at the heart of the reactor. You could infiltrate an EDC country, take an MPEC-powered vehicle apart and take photos of the insides, dismantle it and test it, but as soon as the reaction chamber is breached nitrogen receptors in the synthetic membrane activate, releasing the lysosomes and destroying the membrane itself. The reactor just becomes a ball of solar panels.

If there're still any loopholes, let me know, I need to make this right.

[Morr]

Nope thats what i expected i was just asking, although wouldn't that sort of isolation cause a war almost immediately especially with Russian nukes. Im not trying to be difficult just constructive, honestly the stories good. I surpose the idea that the europeish faction might have developed potent weapons along side the MPEC might dissuade open war.

[Imperial Dragon]

Dont worry about it, its this kind of discussion I need. As I say, I need to get this right (Plus it keeps the thread active :D).

The EDC hasn't really followed much of a path of WMDs during the reinvigorated arms race, it's things like the Virtue carriers that they've focused on. More advanced military hardware rather than super-heavy ordnance. The USIA and UNA still have a massive stockpile of nuclear weapons (the whole 'world going to hell' thing kind of put an end to nuclear disarmament treaties) but they're working on a principle of mutually assured destruction. If it gets to a point where one superpower has nothing left to lose they who knows what'll happen with the nukes, but for now asia and america wont fire WMDs at each other because the other side would just do the same before the nukes landed and both unions would be blown to hell. It's like the cold war, but abit...warmer. Also, neither of them will fire at europe because of Vortex: the EDC would just disarm the missiles from space as soon as they were fired. Everyone understood that creating this state of politics could very well lead to war just as much as protect the union members from it, but that kind of international unease could have continued on for decades, and maybe even cooled off. With those two trigger events i talked about in 2050, everything just exploded out of proportion so quickly noone really thought about dimplomacy. The world was definately ready for war, but it wasn't necessarily a foregone conclusion.

[Morr]

Very good, i like the vortex idea.

[Imperial Dragon]

Chapter Two, part one. School workload's heating up abit so the gap between my updates might get abit bigger. Let me know what you think, I'm trying a different perspective with this bit but we're still in Warsaw. I think the format's going to stay at two updates per chapter, spread it out abit. Thanks for the interest everyone!!


PARIAH

Chapter Two - Into The Storm

Storm clouds gathered over the polish capital. Night was falling and the shadows of the blackened sky cast the deserted streets of Warsaw into darkness. Rain began to slip gently from the heavens. The far off flashes of lightning illuminated the skeletons of the city's few skyscrapers. Rolls of thunder left the street eerily quiet in their wake. The rain glistened on rooftops, tarmac and discarded masonry in the road, dripping slowly into broken walls and pooling on ashen floors. Wisps of steam floated from some of the houses as the rain evaporated on contact with hidden flames. The sounds of war still managed to cut through the idyllic, desolate scene, betraying the presence of the very forces that had brought about its formation. The lightning glinted from the bodywork of light aircraft, flitting around in the night like sparks reflected in a pool of ink. The roar of heavy ordnance could be heard faintly even through the thunder and a lone EDC soldier stepped out of one of the few intact houses, staring at the sky.

Jan was unarmed, lightly armoured, nowhere near the EDC front line and with no means of communication to his command unit or the rest of his own squad, if they were alive. The thought dawned on him that everyone who cared probably thought he was dead too. Hell, he should be, by rights. A multiple-thousand foot fall broken by a house roof and the floor of the level below, landing directly on his face should be fairly lethal, even with nanomachines to heal the damage and his battle suit to protect him. The only reason for his survival that seemed to make sense was that his jet pack had somehow activated while he was unconscious, slowing his fall enough to save his life. But still, he had never been one to question fate.

He stood amidst the debris and stared into the distance. The misty rain and the gathering gloom reduced his range of vision but he could still make out the centre of the city reasonably clearly. From his pre-deployment briefing he could tell that he was somewhere to the south-west of the EDC command centre, on the other side of the Vistula river. He also knew that he was too far into the city to be behind the USIA front line, so he must be in a currently unoccupied pocket south of the main advance. The relatively dispersed housing and lack of tall buildings must have made it less valuable to the EDC as a defensive site, so the Asians would have had relative ease in passing through. The shattered remnants of hastily constructed barricades at the end of the street confirmed his theory. However, the main point that caught his eye was part of the city centre skyline, a building that had not been a landmark on his briefing but was clearly big enough that it should have been. It's design made it look as if someone had cut the top off a mountain and dropped it upended into the centre of Warsaw. It took the sergeant a couple of minutes to realise what he was looking at: the Charon had crash-landed into the river. Jan started walking towards the wreck of his home vessel, limping ever so slightly with some stiffness in his recently healed leg.

***

Conscript Tarun Khatri hugged cover, fumbling at his belt for a fresh magazine. The concrete wall that he and his comrades were sheltering behind was crumbling fast under the hail of fire from the European lines. Pulling the new clip from his belt and slotting it into the base of his Kalashnikov assault rifle, Tarun leant back onto the wall and breathed deeply. A stifled scream from his left, a splash of blood in the air and the sight of yet another soldier crashing to the floor gave Tarun yet another reminder of what awaited him over the wall. The man to his left landed face up in the mud, vacant eyes staring back at the Indian conscript and blood leaking out of a gash in his neck. Tarun loaded his rifle, grimaced and turned to look out over the barricade.

The scene that greeted him was a blasted hell scape The far right flank of the USIA front line looked out onto no man's land, which stretched away for a few hundred metres before meeting the armoured trenches of the Europeans The curved shield walls that the EDC troopers sheltered behind were still holding against the fire power of the USIA tanks, broken apart in places but still unbreached. The walls was dotted with firing slits, the barrels of their advanced rifles protruding through but the troopers themselves were nowhere to be seen. Tarun had no idea how they could fight with such accuracy without seeing their targets, but he did not really have time to wonder. The faint outlines of the EDC's own armoured vehicles could just be made out through the haze, explosive shells, hails of bullets and other strange projectiles that Tarun did not understand battering the Asian lines with terrible force. Burning wrecks of Asian vehicles littered the near side of no man's land, surrounded by mounds of his dead comrades. Despite the carnage, it was clear to see that the USIA was making progress: the enemy fortifications were crumbling in places and the volumes of fire coming back at them were slowing slightly.

Tarun sagged back down behind the wall. Firing was pointless as there was nothing to hit. All they were really doing was buying time for the heavy weapons to breach the enemy lines, allowing them access to the trench itself. His thoughts strayed back to his home, back to his wife and two daughters in one of the shanty towns outside Kolkatta, back to his street workshop and how his life was before conscription. He had never heard of Warsaw in forty years of life and now here he was trying to level the place. Why couldn't the imperials have simply left him and his family in peace? Why did they have to start this war? He was shaken from his daydreams by a shout from one of the other conscripts from his scrap of shelter.

"Over the wall!" The man shouted at Tarun. "We've opened them up! Over the top! Charge!" He vaulted the cover and ran into the smoke, firing his rifle as he moved.

Tarun paused for a second, offered a prayer to the heavens and followed. Sprinting towards where he knew the EDC were waiting for him, powered by fear as much as energy or adrenaline he opened fire. Bullets lanced into the earth all around him and he saw the man from behind the wall ahead of him fall, a stream of European ammunition cutting through his legs. The fire power facing him was terrifying. Jumping over the dead and dying as he neared the broken wall, he tried in vain to block out their pitiful screams. By now he could see the breach. The USIA tanks had blown through a four metre-wide section of wall, leaving a hole that lead directly into the heart of the EDC trench. Already the gap was being filled by a press of dead Asian soldiers, a small team of Europeans holding the breach with heavy machine guns that tore their assailants apart in streaks of gore. Tarun found his mark with a burst from the Kalashnikov, an EDC trooper's head exploding through his helmet. The man fell back into the trench and Tarun kept firing even as he dived towards the breach, screaming like a madman. Everything slowed down. He could see the barrel of the EDC chain gun turn towards him out of the corner of his eye. Some part of his brain knew what was about to happen, even if the rest of him hadn't accepted it yet. The muzzle of the weapon flashed brilliant white. He could almost see the rounds spiralling towards him in a corkscrew. The stream of bullets tore his ribcage and left arm away, throwing a pulverised mess of organs and shards of bone to the floor behind him. The world span above him, everything blurring into a mixture of clouds, walls, rock and dirt before he crashed to the floor. He had no lungs left to breathe his last with. His eyes lost focus, the pain lifted away and his world turned white.

[Arateus]

0_0
Well done man, Well done.
*Grabs the awesomepoint counter from EB, Who is distracted by Malcadon1 doing teh nekkid dance for smurfy*
*resets said counter*
Continue.

[Iwasfrozen]

The storyline and concept are brilliant, I love how you added another prespective to the tale.

[Imperial Dragon]

Sorry about the wait, school work is proving more difficult than I thought. Here's the second half of chapter two, I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think! Work on chapter three starts soon, which I'm hoping will go down well. I'm looking forward to it, at least :)



***
The situation over Warsaw was becoming more and more critical by the day. The sheer volume of the USIA army was more than the EDC seemed able to cope with, and the Tesla cannon had shattered their contingency plan. The Charon was destroyed. The other four carriers were forced to retreat and maintain position, the EDC not prepared to lose any more billions of Euros of equipment to some brash foreign lightning weapon. So it was that the USIA moved to take control of Warsaw, quickly forcing the EDC back from the Vistula river by nothing more than sheer weight of numbers. The EDC were forced to set up their defences at the trench barricades surrounding the palace. The trench system had been built prior to the assault, mostly flattening every building within a kilometre radius of the palace and replacing them with a comprehensive siege warfare system. The palace trenches were nigh on impregnable, the strongest defences available to the European defenders and it was here that they would make their final stand. If Warsaw fell then the power to the rest of the country would be cut off and the whole of Poland would dissolve into anarchy. This in turn would bolster the USIA forces and give them a clear path through to Germany. The EDC would not and could not allow the Polish capital to fall.

The defenders at the palace knew full well that if they could not break the USIA war machine they would die there. A relief force was being mobilised by Paris and would surely crush the remaining Asian army when it arrived, but that would be too late for Warsaw. The support that they had was waiting in the skies for the Tesla cannon to be destroyed, but the EDC had no way of reaching the weapon. With the storm troopers suppressed the only course of action left was simply to break the USIA upon the walls of the palace trenches. Still vastly outnumbered and out gunned, the remaining EDC troopers sat behind their fortifications and waited, praying that their superior weaponry could destroy the Asian aggressors, or at least hold the USIA back long enough for a solution to be found. The battle of Warsaw had revealed the fatal flaw in the EDC game plan: Europe simply did not have the manpower to compete in wars of attrition like this. It relied on swift strike forces that could break the opposition apart with one well timed blow, more likened to a scalpel than a sledgehammer. In the case of Warsaw, their scalpel had been broken and the sledgehammer was now battering on their unprotected door. The war was not looking bright for Europe

***

Dawn was fast approaching as Jan finally reached the Vistula river. The whole night had been spent clambering through the ruins of the suburbs of the city, avoiding USIA patrols and heading all the time for the towering wreck of the Virtue-class carrier. The journey across the city that should only have taken two hours at the most had instead lasted all night. Jan now realised that it was imperative that he should get to EDC territory as soon as possible, as with the sun rising it would prove much harder to conceal himself. His suit did have camouflage shields built in, but those require power, which itself was a resource he was fast running out of. The fall had used up three of his five backup power cells in the end, and using another to shield himself for a few minutes was a plan he would only use as a last resort. His suit featured camera panels built into the armour, which would take photographs of the surrounding terrain and then project them onto he opposite face of his armour, effectively making him invisible. However, this system was only designed for short bursts, so with his limited power supplies the photo-camo was not much of an option.

So it was that Jan found himself crouching atop a crumbling ledge high up on a block of flats that had been shorn in half, looking out over the river. The borderline between the USIA-held suburbs and the rapidly diminishing EDC inner city and CBD, the river was alive with activity. Massive armoured landing craft bearing the crossed-swords emblem of the Asian superpower, each carrying hundreds of men along with tanks and transports were cruising powerfully across the black water. Blazing wrecks of some of the landers littered the river where they had been struck down by European artillery. Drowned soldiers floated amongst the debris, ashen, sinking tanks could also be seen dipping just below the waterline and steadily burning oil slicks left the rest of the water in darkness. From his vantage point Jan could see over a hundred of the colossal vehicles crossing the river, their charges joining the rearguard of the advancing USIA army heading for the EDC headquarters at the palace. The palace itself could be seen, the spire at the top surrounded by a white bubble-like shield, particle beams lancing out from the tip into the Asian forces. The whole building was cast into shadow by the surrounding skyscrapers, which dwarfed the once-proud tower. The modern skyscrapers in turn were shadowed by the wreck of the Charon in the distance. When it was in flight, the Charon was two and a half thousand feet long and just under one thousand feet wide. What remained of the hulk protruded around 1500 feet into the sky, sticking into the earth at an angle. It blocked out the sun and cast the USIA bank of the Vistula into darkness. However, it was the events on the Charon's deck that provoked the most intrigue from the EDC sergeant.

The whole ship was tilted into the ground at about a thirty degree angle. The top deck was splintered and crumbling away. Most of the remaining deck was covered in the twisted wreckage of aircraft. Some of it was on fire. The rest of the surface of the ship was host to a bitter ground war. The surviving storm troopers were holding their ground at the top of the deck against an onslaught of USIA troops. The troopers were completely cut off from the rest of the EDC, who were themselves too preoccupied holding the central CBD from wave after wave of the USIA army. The European lines were getting weaker and weaker, and without the promised storm trooper corps support the Asians were fast nearing domination of Warsaw. By now the EDC would have fallen back to their fortifications in the palace trenches and would be trying to use their defences and advanced equipment to hold off the onslaught of Asian soldiers. It was obvious that without the storm troopers it was just a matter of time before Poland fell to Asia

Somehow Jan had to reach the Charon and make contact with the rest of his legion, but that meant crossing a river completely controlled by the enemy while staying somehow undetected. If he was discovered now he would be killed, no questions asked. The landing craft were still continuing their monotonous task, shipping the sea of men and machines from one back to join the sea of men and machines at the other. Spotlights from the landers cycled over the river, turning it into an infiltration nightmare. Checking the sealing on his suit to make sure it was undamaged, Jan stood atop his ledge. He filled his lungs and dived into the river.

The freezing black water clawed at his unprotected face and hands like shard of ice stabbing into his flesh. Jan kept his eyes shut and kicked upwards, breaking the surface and gasping for breath. Shaking the water from his hair and face, he treaded water and looked around him. Merely staying in the water was sapping his strength as his armour weighed him down. Turning in the water, he was greeted by the looming shadow of a USIA lander crashing towards him, its spotlights turned away from him for now but the sight of over a thousand tonnes of metal bearing down on him was more of a worry than being seen. Jan threw himself to his right, barely avoiding the ship as it lumbered past and banging his freshly healed leg on its prow, cursing. As it passed, Jan spotted a series of rungs attached to the side of its hull, presumably for re-boarding troops under fire. Summoning up the last of his strength, he leapt out of the water and clung onto the side of the lander.

Holding himself as close to the hull as he could, Jan crossed the river on the side of the USIA assault craft. The men on board were all but silent, those of them that were speaking were mainly doing so in Russian so Jan could not understand them. As the boat neared the other bank and as his grip started to give, Jan finally let go and dropped back into the icy river, the Vistula taking his breath away for the second time. The lander's prow doors crashed open and the USIA men and vehicles on board began to disembark as Jan swam for the shore. The weight of his equipment was proving crippling and by the time he neared the grassy bank of the far side of the river he was close to exhaustion. Dragging his tall frame out of the water he collapsed on the green slope, breathing heavily. He rolled over onto his back, looked around him to make sure that he had not been spotted and laid back. "Just a few seconds here," he whispered to himself, breathless, "then I'll get moving again. Just a few seconds." Then six hands grabbed him roughly by the arms and hauled him into the undergrowth.

[Arateus]

Nice, Nice story man. Its like 2142 without the ice =)

[Imperial Dragon]

Pretty quick turnaround this time, I've wanted to get chapter three done for a while. Bit of a change of pace. Thanks for all the support for this, everyone, there's been alot of people viewing the thread and hopefully I'll manage to get it somewhere up to to the standard and popularity of tyranidlord's Red Skulls work. I'm not sure whether this chapter will answer some questions or bring up some new ones, but either way let me know what you think!



PARIAH

Chapter Three - 101

New York City, Northern States, UNA

The night's sky over New York was illuminated with the million lights of a city that truly never sleeps. The windows of the skyscrapers of Manhattan created dappled spines of metal reaching for the clear sky. The street lamps and cars far below gave the city brilliantly lit arteries of golden colour, flowing between the black buildings like the shining blood of a saint. Far above the city the spotlights of helicopters and private aircraft mixed with the stars, turning the night's sky into a sea of black, white, gold, green, blue and red. Looking out to the horizon the lights of the warships could faintly be seen as they sailed off to meet the European fleet in the Atlantic ocean. The city was turned into a snow globe of light.

From the penthouse suite on the top floor of just one of those dappled towers, Sarah Ibanez stared down at the city through a wall-sized glass window. She was a tall, slim and startlingly beautiful woman. Her long black dress, black shoes and diamond necklace were French, the best that money could buy. She held a thin, empty champagne glass in her hand. She was a young woman, though her short white hair that rested a few inches above her shoulders told a different story. Her eyes were the same silver-white as her hair and her skin was also a pale, greyish colour. The only blemish on her perfect frame to be seen was three thin black numbers tattooed onto the left side of the back of her neck. 101.

As she stood and watched the scene, the party continued on behind her. The in-crowd of Manhattan socialised the night away. Bankers, heiresses, politicians, generals, oil merchants, entrepreneurs and their partners drank fine champagne and discussed whichever small matters concerned them. Sarah had had just about her fill of both. The country was falling apart around their heads but the rich and powerful in the UNA simply became richer and more powerful as the poor suffered. Still, who was she to judge, it was only because of this kind of society that she was able to enjoy life as she did. Her musing was cut short as one of her fellow aristocrats approached her position at the window. UNA General Alexander Thomas walked over to Sarah and draped an arm over her shoulders. She moved into his embrace.

"Empty glass, my dear?" The general said softly.

"I'm afraid so" she replied, her thin hand offering him her glass, which he took gently.

Alexander turned to a passing waiter, handed him the glass, took a full one from his tray and handed that to Sarah. "Why are you stood over here, on your own?" He asked. "I mean, I know the rest of them can be a terrible bore, but surely they're better than watching the commoners drive by?"

Sarah sighed. "I'm just enjoying the view, Alex. The city looks beautiful at night from here, this really is a wonderful place you have."

"It is, but I'm not happy with it. This place, these people, they disgust me."

Sarah looked up at the general, a hint of confusion evident on her face. "Even me? Why?"

He smiled and looked into her eyes. "No, not you. The rest, including myself have all made their fortunes from the war, from the deaths of others. Our money is stained with their blood. We are war criminals."

"What can you do about it? You're a general, Alex, Your duty is to your country."

"Precisely," he said, smiling, "and that is exactly what I plan to do."

She frowned again. "I don't understand."

"Listen, Sarah, I know this is probably the bubbles talking but I trust you, you're a great girl. This war is illegal, and it's going to tear the world apart. I'm talking to high-ranking officials in the EDC army about a peace treaty. We're going to stop all this."

"Isn't that treason?"

The general's face did not change in response to the accusation. "Yes, but only by the corrupt laws of our government. What we're doing will save the world. Well, it might help to clear my conscience, at least."

The silver-haired woman stepped out of Alexander's arms, turning to face him. "You're a pacifist and a soldier in a world consumed by war. You are a very special man, Alex." She offered her arm to him, which he took, and they walked back towards the party.

The party rolled on for another hour or so, General Thomas introducing Sarah to each of their fellow socialites in turn, then telling her what he really thought of the person. They were friendly, maybe too much so, Sarah inquiring about the nature of their work and answering their questions politely. Though it was his party to host, Alex did far less of the talking, preferring to stand by and keep his image intact despite his disdain for the people in his suite. After the two of them had spoken to everyone at least once the others began to take their leave of the general, leaving in pairs. The alcohol was starting to take its toll on all of them, just another night out for Manhattan's elite as they swayed into their chauffeur-driven cars. By midnight Alex and Sarah were left alone in the penthouse.

"Shouldn't you be getting home to your boyfriend, Sarah?" He asked, the champagne dragging on his words. Sarah shook her head, feigning drunkenness herself.

"I'm afraid there isn't one, I'll be alone again tonight."

Alex's face noticeably lit up, and he smiled again. "Then what happens now?"

Sarah smiled back, and took his hand in hers. "I should like to get to know you more, if you don't have anyone better to go back to."

"I get the feeling that there isn't anyone better," he breathed, and kissed her on her lips.


***

Alexander kicked to door to his bedroom open as Sarah led him inside, closing the door behind them. He unbuttoned his shirt and let her push him onto the bed. She slipped out of her dress and stood over him, her black corset barely covering her. The general grinned at her and threw his shirt towards her. Sarah batted it aside and fell on top of him, kissing him passionately. They held each other in a lover's embrace, his hands caressing her breasts and slowly removing what little she was still wearing. She kissed him on the chest, slowly moving her tongue down to the front of his trousers. She unzipped him with her teeth. Removing his trousers, Sarah was greeted with his tented shorts. She licked her lips and moved back up to kiss him on the lips, gently cupping his testicles with one hand.

"You really are an amazing woman, Sarah," he whispered between kisses.

"Does it scare you that you know nothing about me?"

He laughed. "Not really, it makes it more fun."

"Do you want to hear a secret, Alex?" Sarah breathed, cocking her head to one side and batting her eyelids.

"Go ahead." He said. She grinned at the general and squeezed his genitals a little harder.

"I'm an assassin."

Alexander's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. He struggled to escape her grip, but her thin frame belied her strength. Sarah kept the older man pinned down on the bed.

"Shhh," she whispered into his ear. She kissed him once more before his face contorted in agony. His eyes rolled back in his head and he screamed into her mouth. Sarah bit down onto his tongue to muffle the noise. The boxer shorts that she had exposed were flooded with blood and a long, thin knife emanating from a bracer on Sarah's left wrist was embedded in his now diminishing erection. Tears welled up in the man's eyes. She released his tongue and allowed his screams to fill the room, throwing her head back in pleasure. A few seconds passed before Alex could muster any kind of language.

"Wh..wh...whwhy...?" He stuttered, his eyes drooping as he slipped towards unconsciousness.

Sarah slapped him in the face to wake him up. "You, and people like you are trying to stop the war. My employers cannot allow that to happen, so you have to die. Can you really begrudge me having a little fun while I do my job?" She smiled at him again, and pushed down on the knife. He screamed again. Slowly and forcefully she tore the thin blade upwards, slicing through his penis and into his torso. Blood splashed across her breasts as he struggled, wailing in agony all the time. All the blade reached the base of his neck she withdrew it, blood pooling in Alexander's mouth and spitting out onto her face as he tried to cry out. She raised the knife above her head. "Time to sleep, Alex. Time to sleep." The blade came down on his face, slashing through one of his eyes, then the other before being buried in his throat. Sarah pressed down on a catch in the bracer and the blade slid free as she moved her arm away, leaving the knife in the general's trachea. The blinded, choking man lay still on the bed, his lifeblood slowly turning the snow-white sheets a deep red. Sarah stood up and smiled at the butchered mess of a man that she had created.

After removing her corset and dropping it over Alex's dismembered face, Sarah wandered naked into his shower to clean the blood from her ashen skin. Once she had finished, she moved to his wardrobe and removed the suitcase that she had hidden earlier. Kneeling on the floor next to his bed, she re-dressed then stood next to the man that she had just murdered. Black leather robes covered a corset made of the same material. Black leather boots were attached to her feet and legs, the straps reaching up to just below her knees. A thin belt circled her right thigh, carrying a holster which contained a silenced pistol. A utility belt containing an assortment of climbing equipment as well as explosives, a long dagger, throwing knives and ammunition circled her slim waist. The tails of her robes draped down over her midriff and onto her legs in black and silver strips. The upper parts of her robes covered her chest and arms, strips of black and silver leather hanging down from her forearms. The robes finished in a thick leather hood that she now pulled up over her silver hair. A flash of silver material cut from her right shoulder and arm down to the right side of her waist. The numbers 101 were stitched in black thread into the middle of the silver material, on her right shoulder. A thin strap of leather passed across her chest in the opposite direction to the silver. Atop her left shoulder the strap held another set of throwing knives, and on her back it held a short-barrelled silenced sniper carbine rifle. On her left wrist she still wore the bracer, now with a fresh blade fitted. On the right wrist a similar bracer resided, but instead held a miniature grappling hook. She wore a thin headset on her left ear, the microphone trailing along her jawline.

Sarah turned back to Alex's body, watching him breathe his last. A contented smirk crossed her face as he finally died, tears mixing with the blood on his face and more of his blood now pooling on the floor, the bedsheets saturated. Sarah reached into her hood and activated the headset.

"101 to 05. Target eliminated. Request evac."

The voice that returned through the static was unstable and mocking, seeming to switch the emotion that it was conveying with each new word. "Excellent 101, you..erm...you may have to...yes, I think so, yes. Make a HAHAHAHA little, erm exit, or something. There's a vehicle for your VERY KIND USEAGE, if you're careful on the ground floor of the buil buildiding opposite. See you soon, my dear. SEE you soon bye bye bye."

Sarah sighed and cut the connection, walking away from the atrocity before her into the main room. She stood by the window from which she had been watching the city a few hours before and kicked it through. The glass disintegrated under the force of the impact and a strong breeze sped into the room. Spreading her arms out wide as a diver would, Sarah leapt from the suite and fell eighty stories towards the street below.

[ajrk32]

Nice job a few revising/ editing things in chapter 2 but a real good glossy finish! good job

[Imperial Dragon]

Next update and we're back in Poland. Again, big thanks to everyone who's reading this, hope you're enjoying it and please do leave feedback whenever possible, I really do appreciate all criticism I get :)


PARIAH

Chapter Four - Comrades

Ramirez and Fritz hauled their sergeant to his knees and supported his weight as he regained his breath. The three storm troopers crouched in the dead undergrowth by the side of the Vistula river, barely concealed from the advancing Asian army. Jan finally caught his breath, shook the water out of his hair and grinned at his comrades.

"There was me thinking I had superpowers for surviving that fall," he whispered, cautious of attracting attention from the infantry disembarking just downriver from them. "Where's everyone else?"

Ramirez grinned back, the visor on her intact helmet retracted for now. "Good to see you too, sir. Jones is in the undergrowth a bit further ashore, and the Toms are in that ruin just behind us."

Jan's face fell slightly. "The others?"

Fritz shook his head. "Smithy, Hella and Fernandez never made it out of the drop ship, she exploded before they could escape. The rest of us and Toshak made it out, but his jet pack took a hit on the way down, just disappeared into the smoke. Never saw him again, sir."

The sergeant sighed slowly. He had resigned himself to the fact that his charges had been killed in the crash that should have killed him too, but now finding that some of the squad had survived made losing the others that much harder to bear. A couple of seconds passed before he locked his jaw, nodded grimly at Fritz and Ramirez and followed the pair of them away from the river. The three soldiers crouched low to the ground as they ran, flitting between bushes like shadows in the dawn's light. As they moved further ashore Jan could see the building that was their target: one of the few intact civilian houses on the formerly EDC-held side of the Vistula. Part of the ground floor had been blown away by an Asian shell, but the rest of the structure was sound. Trooper Jones joined the other three as they hugged the wall outside the front door of the house. Jan kicked the door in and ran inside, followed by the other soldiers. The USIA continued on outside as the storm troopers ran upstairs, dropping to the floor next to the attic window where Eidur and Mikail Tomasson lay. The brothers moved over so that their sergeant could see out over the river, one passed him a standard issue EDC assault rifle, the other passed him the headset from his comms array.

Jan nodded to both of them and opened a link to the Charon's command deck. Static flooded the earpiece. Next, he tried the Palace Command Centre and was met with the same response, sparks fizzing around the headset. Jan tore the equipment from the side of his head and threw it to the floor, then turned to Mikail and shook his head. "We're locked out, the ship's command deck is down and the palace's defence computers are attacking everything past the front line." He sighed and picked up the headset again, holding it gingerly towards his face in fear of another jolt. When the electric shock was not forthcoming, he opened another comms link. "This is Sergeant Jan Taylor, EDC storm trooper, squad C084 calling all available carriers in the Warsaw sector, over." A thin layer of static passed over the headset for a minute or so.

"EDC Carrier Tyrus responding loud and clear, Sergeant Taylor. State your location, over."

Jan looked at Ramirez and shrugged. "We're about 3km west of the palace, 3 to 4km south west of the Charon's wreck." Jan relayed the information to the airman on the Tyrus' bridge.

"Copy that, sergeant. There's no way you're getting back to the palace trenches from there, the imperials have got hundreds of thousands of men between you and headquarters. I'm afraid you're cut off, unless you've got a burning desire to get shot. So, we've got a little job for what's left of your squad, if you'd rather do some work instead of waiting for the artillery to open fire again, over?"

"Fire away Tyrus, over."

The airman's voice lost its sarcastic tone for the first time in their conversation. "C084 is one of seventeen of the Charon's squads to make it off the carrier alive. All but three of those seventeen landed within the perimeter trenches and are now helping to reinforce the front line. C084, C866 and C491 were all shot down over enemy territory. In total we have thirteen of the Charon's charges down behind enemy lines. Europe's efforts in Warsaw have largely been stumped by the size of the enemy we face and we've been driven back to a kilometre radius around the palace. This was as expected, but the carrier detachment from Berlin was designed to break the back of the imperial advance and drive them away, as you know. However, we did not anticipate the scale of anti-aircraft weaponry that the imperials would bring to the game and as a result of that oversight we lost the Charon. The USIA Tesla cannon is capable of decimating the rest of our carrier fleet and so we have been instructed to wait above the city out of its range. We need to destroy that cannon, or Warsaw will fall, do you understand, sergeant? This is where our thirteen troopers come in. Your communications trooper is being sent a map of the location of the enemy weapon. Your objective, C084, is to reach the Tesla cannon site, join up with the remainder of C866 and C491, penetrate the weapon and destroy it."

***

The storm trooper corps were designed to have a dual function once deployed. The storm troopers are divided into squads of nine troopers and a sergeant. Each carrier is host to one storm trooper legion, a group of ten thousand men under the command of a captain. Therefore, in all, 50'000 of the EDC's finest were dispatched from Berlin to Warsaw, given the task of defeating in excess of one million imperial soldiers. A legion is not merely one thousand squads, the carriers also bear specialised drop ships designed to lift lightly armoured but heavily armed reconnaissance vehicles for the troopers' use once they land. After the drop ships have delivered their cargo, they return to the carrier and dock, where they are refitted with extra armour plates and weapons wired into cockpit. These panels are clamped on in seconds and the drop ships redeployed as gunships. Some of the panels cover the troop bays and stop the aircraft transporting soldiers. Once the fighting is over, the drop ships re dock, remove the panels and pick up their troopers again.

This all allows the storm troopers to function as a highly mobile strike force, an army much like the EDC's ground forces but one that fights much faster and much better. However, a storm trooper legion and its carrier was originally designed to be able to capture an enemy city single-handedly. Without dedicated heavy weapons teams, communications units, heavy armour, artillery, scout teams or any of the other specialised units that any normal army would have in its ranks, the storm troopers had to improvise. Each squad was built to be an army in microcosm form. each of the nine troopers having an individual speciality As well as the squad leader each storm trooper squad would feature a comms trooper, a medic, a demolitions expert, a sniper, a combat engineer, an ammunitions trooper, a heavy weapons trooper, a close-combat expert and a shield bearer. Each of these 'classes' of trooper carry a specialist weapon suited to their role as well as a standard issue EDC assault rifle.

In the case of squad C084, the destruction of the Charon and the drop ship crash destroyed four of the squad's ten members. The shield bearer (Hella), charged with carrying a localised defensive laser shield generator and an EMP jammer system. The heavy weapons specialist (Smith) carried one of a selection of high powered arms suited to the mission at hand. Chain guns, missile launchers, particle beams and other more exotic and advanced weaponry are all part of a HWS' arsenal. The Medic (Fernandez) was charged with defibrillators and advanced first aid equipment, more designed for getting soldiers back fighting than keeping them alive. Finally, the combat engineer (Toshak) was tasked with keeping all the technology used by the squad in working order. While this left Jan and his men under prepared for the task ahead, having Ramirez, Jones, Fritz and the Tomasson twins still gave C084 enough manpower and equipment to accomplish the task ahead.

***

Fritz stood guard by the window, scanning the river through his scout's goggles as the other five suited up. One of the Tomassons had provided Jan with a spare assault rifle to replace the one lost in the fall, but the sergeant was still without a helmet so would have to rely on the other Tomasson for communications that required more than shouting. The rest of the squad hadn't had much difficulty from the enemy in reaching the river, so were not troubled by any losses of equipment or injuries. Stopping for a few minutes more to snatch a quick meal from their ration packs, C084 prepared for the gruelling task ahead of them. This they did in relative silence, Ramirez being the first to speak up.

"Jan," she offered, being the only member of the team to feel comfortable using their sergeant's first name, "I know this isn't going to be easy, but don't you think that they're asking too much of us? I mean, we're just six ordinary storms, can we really be expected to cross into the heart of enemy territory and blow up their most prized possession?"

Even as the sergeant opened his mouth to respond, the German sniper butted in from the far side of the room. His voice was low and quiet, but still powerful enough to be heard. "Doesn't matter if we can, Ramirez, just that we must."Jan glanced over at Fritz, then looked back to his second in command and nodded grimly. Finishing his ration, the sergeant pulled himself to his feet.

"084, on me." The five storm troopers assembled in front of him. "As Lukas has so calmly put it, this isn't going to be an easy job but it's one that we have to do. Us six, plus the other seven of our lads from the carrier are the only hope this city has of salvation. So we go. Move out."

With Jan leading the way, one by one the squad descended the stairs, exited the house and dropped into the undergrowth outside. With mid-morning now upon them and the sun well risen in the sky their deep blue plate armour was easily visible to the advancing Asians Crawling steadily towards the river out of the path of one of the lander routes, they again managed to just evade detection. The sergeant stopped his men as they reached the water.

"Seal your helmets and dive, stay under for as long as possible. The less time we spend on the surface the less likely we are to be seen. Regroup in the ruined building straight ahead on the western bank." The troopers gave the sign that they had heard and understood, then like snakes they slipped silently into the darkened water.

[Lemartes]

Really enjoying the story so far man, keep it up.

[Imperial Dragon]

Masses of schoolwork piling up now, should be better by next week but its giving me less time to write this. Start of chapter 5, back with the longer chapters with 3 and 4 being shorter, and we're back in the UNA with Sarah again. Enjoy, and comment!


PARIAH

Chapter Five - Nightfall

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, Northern States, UNA

The Italian super car tore its way down the highway in an explosion of pure noise and white fire from the exhausts. The sound was amplified as the vehicle accelerated onto a steel bridge, crossing the Monongahela River and heading for Down town Pittsburgh. The car's headlights and its burning exhausts mixed with the few remaining lamps on the girders above the road and the window lights from the rich district of the city ahead, turning the passage into a kaleidoscope of white, black and gold. The roar of the MPEC-powered V16 engine and the rush of air over the silver, streamlined, titanium chassis were the only sounds to tarnish this otherwise silent night, the road deserted and neglected. The black tinted windscreen was the only piece of glass visible, the retractable metal hood of the car stowed away at the rear and all the windows wound down. This left a strong gust of air rushing through the inside of the vehicle, running through the pristine silver hair of the driver. The woman gunned the engine again as the car bounded through the exit of the bridge onto the maze of streets that made of the city's CBD.

At night the rich district of the city was a ghost town. Petrol-driven cars were becoming more and more scarce with the war and the expiry of fossil fuels, and in certain cities in the UNA their use was dying out even among the upper classes. Pittsburgh was one of those cities. As the European car cruised between the towering skyscrapers, it barely passed any of the older vehicles. Some people were walking from clubs to trains or back to their homes, but mostly the city was deserted. As Sarah drove deeper into the heart of the city the buildings grew taller, but her objective always dominated the skyline and was even visible from her position at street level. Pedestrians' heads turned as she blazed past them, her transport a clear display of decadence in a civilisation falling apart. None of them would have ever seen an MPEC system before, she thought, so no one was going to go running to the city authorities ranting about a car trailing white flames. The lanes on the road practically meaningless now, she rounded yet another corner and pulled onto Down town Pittsburgh's main thoroughfare.

At the end of the road stood her destination. A colossal skyscraper, the design of which made it look like some strange fusion between modern office block and renaissance palace, towered above her. Like an archaic guardian standing watch over the city, the Night Tower was a jet-black glass masterpiece of architecture. The road leading to its base was silent, the courtyard surrounding it was silent, almost as if the structure itself was creating the void of sound. In fact, the tower appeared to be drawing in the very fabric of the city itself, sound, emotion, light and thought all centred on the terrible building. Sarah accelerated towards the tower, it's dark mass filling her vision as she approached. The building was truly immense. As the assassin approached the shining, wrought metal gates the car slowed, the ornate metalwork sliding out of the way to allow her through.

The courtyard sloped downwards as Sarah approached the base of the tower, the ramp leading her into the sub-levels below the building. The incredible weight of the structure was held just feet above her by marble pillars, through which she slowly navigated as she sought out the desired tunnel. Eventually she found the opening in the floor marked - 1 \ \ - and slid her vehicle down the ramp and further away from the city streets. The next level was deserted, except for the marble pillars. She allowed her car to slowly roll to a halt on one of the black metal plates on the chamber floor, switched the engine off, slid the door upwards and stood upright in the cavernous hall. As she stepped away from the vehicle, the metal plate retracted into the floor and slid back, transporting the car off to some other part of the building. Another metal plate, this one smaller and circular, activated ahead of her, a corkscrewing cage of metal rising out of the floor. Sarah stepped through an opening in the bars and onto the plate, the edge of which flashed white once.

"101, level 5-0" she said, enunciating clearly. The plate flashed again, then started to rise upwards. After a minute or two in the elevator, the cage retracted and she found herself inside the tower itself.

The corridor ahead of her was hardly bustling with activity. Three hunched acolytes scampered across the empty space, the leather strapping on their feet shuffling through the black carpet that covered most of the hallway. While the carpet muffled the sound of their footfalls, the burnished steel floor beneath it made them echo along the black and silver metal walls. Their crippled frames were shrouded by thick black robes, heavier and more dense versions of those that Sarah herself wore. One by one the dark shapes disappeared through door panels built into the walls of the corridor, replaced by more acolytes emerging from other panels. The gentle shuffling continued on in the vast corridor as Sarah strode calmly across the carpet towards the door at its end. This door was no mere metal panel, instead the portal that greeted her was a large black barrier, covered in metal bars, cogs and ridges. At the centre of the door was a wide plate, with the numbers '05' inscribed on it. Slowly Sarah approached the door, the few acolytes that shared the corridor cowering back from her as she passed, then pattering on their way again. As she reached the end of the corridor the gate starting to slowly click into action. Pipes within the door retreated, rods bent and withdrew, cogs twisted and steam was fired from the edges of the door. The border of the central panel flashed white and the door began to disassemble itself, retracting into the walls. Sarah stepped through into the darkness revealed by the moving door as it began to reform behind her.

[ajrk32]

woah

[Imperial Dragon]

Chapter Five's going to be longer, so there'll be one or two more updates before it's done, but here's some more. Thanks for the support everyone!




The room she now found herself in was a cavernous laboratory, built from the same black metal as the corridor outside. As the door closed, the dim lights that kept the chamber from being smothered by darkness became more apparent. A faint, yet vivid green glow was emanating from the fluid inside glass tanks, arranged around the room like columns. Shadows coated the space behind them, the glow barely penetrating the black fog. The rows tanks lead towards the far end of the chamber, the back wall covered in twisting glass tubes containing the same green liquid. In front of the tubes stood row after row of acolytes, hoods covering their faces. In front of them was an ornate black wooden desk, topped with green felt. At the desk sat a solitary figure, a woman, head bent over her work and legs crossed under the desk. The thin black and green mist that surrounded Sarah smelt like flowers and tasted sweet on her tongue as she breathed, yet burnt her mouth and nose ever so slightly. She began to walk towards the desk, pulling her hood up to cover her face.

As the assassin approached the desk, the other woman looked up from what she had been writing, placing her pen on the desk and motioning for an acolyte to take it and the papers away. She stood and walked around to the front of the desk, the acolyte moving her chair out of the way. The two women stood face to face, each of roughly the same height as the other. However, whereas Sarah's robes were black and silver, this new woman wore robes of black and vivid green. The numbers 05 were stitched into the cloth covering her right shoulder. Her whole body, or at least what could be seen of it beneath her robes, was coated in a thin black material that seemed to adhere to her body almost like a second skin. Flashes of white patterns passed over the surface of the material, swirling like a snake one second, then the next a maze of lines, then a chequered pattern, then countless others. Just looking at them made Sarah's head spin. The woman's hands were coated in the same black material and she bore the same bracers that her counterpart did, though seemed to carry no other obvious weaponry. Her hood rested on the back of her shoulders, revealing her head and face. The right side of her face was uncovered and plain to see. The left side, however, was covered by a semi-circular plate, which was black but covered with a white cheque pattern that flickered every so often. Sarah tried to look the woman in the eye, but the flashes of colour, the smell, the taste and the sound of the acolytes moaning quietly was almost too much to bear. The experience would have been enough to reduce any normal person to twitching on the border of madness, but she just about managed to hold her nerve.

The Harlequin twisted the right side of her mouth into a smirk as she observed the assassin, her baleful silver eyes unflinching. As she opened her mouth to speak her breath gently washed over Sarah, laced with narcotic fragrances. Her voice seemed as though two people were speaking at once: one high-pitched, excited, scared and unstable but quiet, the other was much louder, stronger and more harmonic, as if emanating from a church organ.

"Welcome home, 101." The Harlequin's dulcet tones reverberated around her study like an orchestra in a bubble. "I trust your excursion to our capital was an enjoyable one?"

Sarah's breath caught in her throat as she responded, the mental onslaught continuing unabated. "I don't believe that's relevant, 05, the fact that I did my job should surely suffice." Pausing, she allowed herself a slight smile. "But yes, it was fun."

The Harlequin smirked again. "Excellent..." her voice trailed off. Her head turned to one side, she coughed gently and then turned back to the assassin. Her pupils were slightly dilated and her mouth hung open a few millimetres as if she was short on breath. A barely audible giggle escaped her throat, the quieter component of her voice coming to the fore. "Did he scream?" Sarah never got the chance to reply.

For a second the whole room flashed white. Sarah and The Harlequin staggered back away from each other, momentarily blinded. As their eyesight slowly returned the two of them regained their footing, their heads snapping to and fro as they searched or the source of the disturbance. A few seconds passed before the sound of heavy footfalls became clearly noticeable. Out of the shadows to the right of the Harlequin's desk strode a giant of a man. Easily seven feet tall and built like an ox, the man approached the other two steadily. Beneath his black and silver robes he wore an archaic suit of plate armour which seemed to be built from metal designed to protect a tank. His boots alone were twice the size of any normal man's head. A broadsword as wide as Sarah's abdomen hung at his belt and a brilliantly shining silver shield rested on his back. Colossal gun barrels were mounted on each arm. His hood was raised. Covering his face was the angled grill of a heavy metal helmet. 01 was stitched into the right shoulder of his robes. The two women before him dropped to their knees as he approached. The giant stood before them, his breath heavy on the back of their heads.

The Spartan's imperious voice exploded from under his hood. "Five, why have you seen fit to have your way with one of my finest officers without my permission?" The Harlequin stuttered in response, her voice altering with each mispronounced syllable. "SILENCE!" he roared, causing 05 to shirk away from his voice in fear. "One more sign of insubordination and I will crush your skull without a second thought, despite whatever father would have me do. You are not irreplaceable. There are hundreds of freaks in this place just needing one last push before they're ready to take your place. You do not have the authority to commandeer my assets whenever you're feeling bored. Do you understand me, Harlequin?" The woman in the green robes nodded vigorously, never shifting her gaze from the floor. The helmeted face turned to Sarah. "Was your excursion productive, 101?"

"Yes, master. Another threat to father's cause has been eliminated."

"Graphically?"

"Yes, master."

The Spartan smiled beneath his hood. "Good. I think it's time you came home for a while, we have a new batch of 'recruits' and 100's away in Japan. I could use your assistance at the armoury before your next assignment." He motioned for her to rise, then turned towards the door at the far end of the study. As Sarah followed behind the immense frame of her master, he stopped again, his head turning slightly towards where the Harlequin still cowered. "Oh, and 05?"

The Harlequin remained where she was, head bowed. "Yes, brother?" Her voice was a mixture of fear, laughter and rage.

"Never try my patience again." With that, he and 101 moved away from the quivering Harlequin, passing out of the door and back into the corridor. Silence filled the darkened study. Slowly the Harlequin's breathing calmed and she rose to her feet, panting for breath. Her pupils were fully dilated and her suit was alive with a frenzy of colour. She turned and began to walk steadily towards her aides. With one motion she drew two serrated daggers from her belt, each about the length of her forearm. Then she began to laugh.

[ajrk32]

Whoah! again woah
the only thing i see that is confuzin is why would #1 care so much about 101? and 5 is suppoesed to be higer rank...

[Lemartes]

I think because 05 is a slut, and 01 doesn't like her playing with his men?

[ajrk32]

101 is a woman. or did i miss somthing. I think when the next section is up it will be clearer to how this ties in with the whole.

[Lemartes]

Yes 101 (sarah) is a woman, I said 01 (Spartan guy) doesn't like 05 playing with his men.

Stop me if I'm wrong Imp

[Imperial Dragon]

Nope, youve got it. I'm writing the next part of chapter five now and yeah, hopefully you should get a kind of drip feed of information as the story unfolds, wouldnt want to tell you everything at once :)

basically, what you should know so far is:

101 - a.k.a. Sarah Ibanez - assassin, the murderer from chapter 3
05 - a.k.a. The Harlequin - master, coordinated the chapter 3 killing
01 - a.k.a. The Spartan - master, in charge of 101, pissed off at 05 for coordinating the chapter 3 killing

[ajrk32]

ok i see how it goes

[Jinxie]

Righto,
you wanted my response :)

I do love your writing style, and im very impressed!
I do however have a couple of things to say:


1. do you have any idea how hard it is to undo a mans trousers with your teeth???


2. i dont believe many women actually have a desire to 'cup a mans balls' (or however you so eloquently put it)


But other than that, yeah!

Amazing :smt016

[Imperial Dragon]

Righto,
you wanted my response :)

I do love your writing style, and im very impressed!
I do however have a couple of things to say:


1. do you have any idea how hard it is to undo a mans trousers with your teeth???


2. i dont believe many women actually have a desire to 'cup a mans balls' (or however you so eloquently put it)


But other than that, yeah!

Amazing :smt016

Thankyou!! It means alot :) In answer to the couple of things:

1) She's an assassin. If you can jump out of a skyscraper and survive, you can undo someone's fly with your teeth :P

2) You would know.

Next section coming soon!!

[Jinxie]

1) She's an assassin. If you can jump out of a skyscraper and survive, you can undo someone's fly with your teeth :P

2) You would know.




1. Clearly you dont know how much skill it takes.

2. Thankyou for alluding to my promiscuity online.


Get posting some more boy :smt012

[ajrk32]

[quote="Imperial Dragon":ba7yn464]

1) She's an assassin. If you can jump out of a skyscraper and survive, you can undo someone's fly with your teeth :P

2) You would know.




1. Clearly you dont know how much skill it takes.

2. Thankyou for alluding to my promiscuity online.


Get posting some more boy :smt012[/quote:ba7yn464]
its titty girl again!
but ImpD get back to writing!

[Jinxie]

its titty girl again!


NO FAIR.

just because i have a voluptuous bosom does not mean you can refer to it as my defining feature...

:D

[Morr]

its titty girl again!


NO FAIR.

just because i have a voluptuous bosom does not mean you can refer to it as my defining feature...

:D

Your sig clearly shows your distaste for the items in question!!. Just kidding. :D

[ajrk32]

lol!
sorry angel!

[Jinxie]

lol!
sorry angel!


Apology accepted poppet.

Had to sig the 'titty girl' comment though,
it did make me giggle :)

[ajrk32]

yeah im in a sig! thanks!

[Lemartes]

Um guys, this isn't the wastes, try to keep on topic...

[ajrk32]

impd- i realy enjoy your story. i think your writing style is very intrgung and pulls you into the story. ID is a very creative author and has very good ideas for his storys, his ideas are plausable and realistic. there are a few rough spots in his entrys however im sure he will be able to smooth these out in the final draft. he has a strong base plotline and i have discovered there are many hidden messages and potential leads in his story.
keep it up Imp. D!

[Flyinfart]

Intriguing, ID. It still feels a bit raw- descriptions not quite fitting and the characters are somewhat unrealistic. Its hard to identify with anybody. Definitely a good start though!


1. do you have any idea how hard it is to undo a mans trousers with your teeth???
2. i dont believe many women actually have a desire to 'cup a mans balls' (or however you so eloquently put it)
1. You obviously need more practice ;)
2. I beg to differ.

[ajrk32]

Intriguing, ID. It still feels a bit raw- descriptions not quite fitting and the characters are somewhat unrealistic. Its hard to identify with anybody. Definitely a good start though!


1. do you have any idea how hard it is to undo a mans trousers with your teeth???
2. i dont believe many women actually have a desire to 'cup a mans balls' (or however you so eloquently put it)
1. You obviously need more practice ;)
2. I beg to differ.
in angels defense: is this from experience?

[Jinxie]

*shows genuine regret for typing said post*
My sexual experiences have nothing to do with Imp's writing talent, hush.
I was only so forthright with my opinion because i know him personally. :smt012


Post the next bit Imp, i wanna read more! :D

[ajrk32]

so ive been re reading and i have a question, how did the squad leader in chapter 2-4 get his energy rejuvinated so quickly?

[Enigmacookie]

Imperial Dragon: Your story is very good. It really sets an example. I can't wait for more.


Um guys, this isn't the wastes, try to keep on topic...

^ This. This is not the wastes. Ajrk, keep control of your raging hormones.
Imp, tread purge at your word.

[ajrk32]

After he pointed that out i got on topic. thanks though.

[Imperial Dragon]

Right, apologies for the long delay again in getting the next bit of chapter five done. I've had alot else on my plate with coursework and I had to rewrite The Spartan's speeches from this section over and over again until I was more happy with them. Again, thanks for the interest shown in the topic, I know it got abit out of hand but theres no such thing as bad publicity right? So, here's the next section, and the start of chapter six will be with you on monday if alls well!




***

The cage elevators retracted, releasing Sarah and The Spartan into a narrow passageway. The giant warrior strode ahead towards the open end of the tunnel, Sarah following closely behind. The pair passed out of the dark passage onto a balcony overlooking a huge stadium. This entire level of the Night Tower was taken up by the construction, styled to resemble an ancient Greek Colosseum but of black marble. The viewing areas were silent and devoid of life, and as the pair stood in their box the structure seemed deathly still, as if haunted. Below them in the arena itself stood rank upon rank of people, men and women of many different ages all clad in the same grey cloth. The assembly counted members of every creed amongst its number, regardless of their affiliations in the war in the outside world. Each cloth garment was marked with a five-digit number in black ink. A second spinal cord made from silver and black metal ran from the centre of each person's back to the base of their skull. As the cord met the top of each person's neck it narrowed into a needle that plunged into their hind brain At the base of the metal cord was a small, clear, hexagonal box of silver liquid. Whatever the age, gender, size, shape or colour of the people on the arena floor, they all had streaks of silver in their hair and a greying tinge to their eyes. Hands clasped behind their backs, the orderly rows of recruits stared upwards towards the Spartan's viewing point. Sarah leant against the wall of the box, next to the tunnel exit as the senior warrior walked to the edge of the balcony, arms raised to address the congregation.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Sector One. I am The Spartan, Pariah 01, head of the inner circle and master of this sector. All of you have passed stage four trials without any adverse effects and have shown enough promise in combat trials to be worthy of a place in this morning's proceedings. As of march this year, my department has been operating one man short when 172 was killed in Japan. You are his potential replacements. Seven hundred and fifteen of you have entered the arena today, one will leave. The rest of you will die. That is not an option, not just a possibility and not some intimidation tactic, you will be killed." The masses before him stayed silent and unflinching, all except for one. Towards the centre of the fifth rank back from The Spartan's position one of the recruits began to giggle. He hunched over and hugged his knees, laughing hysterically at the top of his voice, tears streaming down his face. The recruits either side of him tried to ignore him as he gasped for air. The Spartan sighed and raised his right arm, pointing the index finger of his gauntlet towards the hysterical recruit. A sound similar to a hydraulic piston activating cracked across the arena as one of the bolt guns attached to his forearm fired. The metal bolt flew out from under the sleeve of his robes, whipping past his hand and embedding itself in the laughing man's chest, sending him flying backwards through two other ranks of recruits. The man bounced along the floor, laughing as he went, before the bolt exploded. The blast took out three other recruits and showered the surrounding area in gore before the silence was restored. The Spartan grunted and lowered his arm again. "You have each been provided with a combat knife, which you will use to kill the recruit to your left. Begin."

The Spartan presided over the morning's activities, signifying the end of each stage in the trials by blowing another recruit away with his bolt guns Behind him 101 watched the action nonchalantly, more absorbed in her own personal issues than the bloodshed in the arena below. As usual she was trying to delve into the mists of her memories, the experiences of her life both during her time at the Night Tower and before. All of them stolen away by the company she worked for. At the end of every mission, she was forced to sleep in a machine known as a Null Tank: a clear glass coffin-like chamber containing a chemical solution designed to strip away certain memories. Sarah would return from her assignment, sleep in the Null Tank and wake up with no memory of her previous identities or objectives to find herself with a new name and a new mission. She presumed that she must have had many names and killed many people to reach the rank that she held today, but all she could remember of those times was hidden in shadow. She had also realised that her real name was probably not Sarah Ibanez, and the fact that she didn't know her real name, or who her real family was often gnawed at her mind when she was alone. When she had confronted her master about her problems, 01 had told her that the truth would be too painful for her to bear and that she should have faith in him, in their father and the methods of the company. Even know she felt doubt nagging in her gut. She was certain that she must have gone through this same selection process to become officer 101, but she could not remember it. The only thought in her head that consoled her was that whatever she had been prior to joining up, her life couldn't have been worth living. Her new life had given her the strength and skills to make a difference in the world order, doing something that she had come to enjoy. The price she paid for her liberation was the loss of her most personal memories, thought whether they were prized or feared memories she could no longer say.

As the selection process continued the area floor began to fill with dead recruits. Within a few hours only ten potential assassins remained, covered in blood. The ten lined up in he centre of the arena as they had before the first selection trial, staring up at their master. The Spartan surveyed the havoc that he had forced his impressionable charges to cause. "My congratulations. You have all proven yourselves to be worthy fighters and any of you could become the officer we seek with training. Now for your final and most challenging test." The hooded giant turned to 101 and nodded. The assassin nodded in return, stood from the wall and climbed onto the barrier at the front of the balcony before kicking off, leaping down to the arena floor in one bound. Sarah crouched as she landed, the impact blasting sand into the faces of the battered recruits. She stood and faced the ten potential officers as the Spartan addressed all of them. "This is Pariah 101, she is one of my finest assassins and one of the most skilled warriors out of our whole organisation. Your task is to kill her. Begin."

Sarah drew a silenced pistol and a long dagger, dropped her centre of gravity and raised both hands out in front of her body in a combat stance, her wrists crossed. The ten recruits also dropped their weight, knives drawn. The warriors eyed each other up for a few seconds more before the recruits charged as one. Three small flashes from the muzzle of her weapon greeted the onrushing recruits as Sarah opened fire, three of the ten heads before her snapped back as her bullets found their marks. The first three casualties slipped slowly to the floor as the remaining seven engaged. 101 rammed the butt of her pistol into the face of a Chinese woman, breaking her nose and sending her staggering back. Blocking a knife strike with her own dagger and twisting the blade to cut off the hand holding the weapon, the assassin then spun under another strike before stabbing the now mutilated recruit in the throat. The blade swung free and down onto the top of the next aggressor's skull, killing her instantly. The woman with the broken nose charged again, this time greeted with a bullet to the face that did a much better job of silencing her. The assassin quickly traded blows with two more recruits, blocking every attack before tripping one of them up, throwing the other on top of him and killing them both with one blow to the black of the head. Two of the original seven hundred and fifteen remained, circling 101 slowly. They both charged simultaneously. Sarah grabbed the first man's wrist and hurled him like a rag doll into the path of the other, knocking them both to the floor. As she raised her pistol to finish the fight, a searing pain flashed across her back as something stabbed her in the right shoulder. Her blood splattered across her robes and she turned to see one of the other recruits pressing a combat knife deep into her shoulder. One of his hands was missing and there was a thick, bloody slit across his windpipe. His pupils were dilated in the middle of his wild silver eyes and blood was running freely from his mouth. Sarah rammed her elbow into the man's face again and again until he relinquished his hold on his weapon and was knocked back. The assassin strode towards him, her own pupils dilating as the adrenaline course through her body. The other recruits picked themselves up and charged her as one, but she shot them both in the groin without looking. The crippled man ran at her one last time, his hands contorted like a madman's as he tried to scream through the blood in his throat. 101 roared back at him, dropped her weapons and kicked him in the face, knocking him to the floor. Before he could pick himself up again Sarah was behind him, gripping his shoulder with one hand and the bottom of his jaw with the other. In one smooth movement and grunting with the effort she tore the man's head clean off, hurling it across the arena even as his final convulsions ebbed away. 101 then turned back to the two remaining recruits. One lay on the floor in a pool of blood, moaning softly, whereas the other had managed to pull himself up onto one knee. The second recruit hefted his knife and threw it at 101's head, which she caught deftly and snapped in two. Roaring in agony, Sarah tore the knife out of her shoulder muscle and threw it into the top of the head of the recruit who was still on the floor, ending his own pain. The other recruit gave in to exhaustion and fell to the floor.

Far above the two warriors The Spartan applauded slowly. Sarah stared up at her master as the red mist receded and she regained her composure, the one remaining recruit still gasping through the pain as her lay on the floor. "An excellent display as always, 101, and from you also, young one. You are hereby designated officer 172, and you have my congratulations. May you be proud to call yourself a Pariah."

The master turned from the blood-stained sand of the arena and strode away from the two assassins. As he left, Sarah breathed deeply and walked steadily over towards the limp form of the final recruit. He was taller than she was and had very short blonde hair, or at least he did for now. His blue eyes were rapidly turning grey and his wounds were already healing. His cloth robes hid a lean yet powerful physique, typical of the kinds of warriors that The Spartan liked to have under his control. She hauled the man to his feet.

"Well fought, 172." she said, trying to keep her voice steady through the exhaustion. "Lets get you cleaned up and get you some meds, it's not going to get any easier from here on, trust me on that." Slowly she lead the man out of the arena gates into the armouries of Sector One.




In response to the question:


so ive been re reading and i have a question, how did the squad leader in chapter 2-4 get his energy rejuvinated so quickly?

That, sir, would be telling :D

And one of the main things I struggle with in writing like this is getting people to care about the characters. There's not much I can do with Sarah's character in that respect because she's pretty messed up, but I'm going to put abit more effort into C084's backstory when we rejoin them, tell you abit more about them. That said, its also hard to get a balance between giving you the details you need to keep you interested and giving the whole game away! Thanks again for the support and stay tuned!

[ajrk32]

ID you are amazing, very nice job on the new chapter btw its one of your best!

[Imperial Dragon]

Thankyou! :D

[Jinxie]

:smt007

Can't wait till Monday! :smt001


:smt015

[ajrk32]

thats when part 3 of chapter 5 is coming?

[Jinxie]

thats when part 3 of chapter 5 is coming?

Monday = Chapter 6 8)

[ajrk32]

*applauds* ID is a beast!

[Lemartes]

Yes very good, needs a lot of spell checking but of course that will come later.

[Imperial Dragon]

:D thanks so much for the support, people. Nearly finished with this coursework and homework so work on chapter 6 will start tomorrow, so keep with it!

[Jinxie]

:D thanks so much for the support, people. Nearly finished with this coursework and homework so work on chapter 6 will start tomorrow, so keep with it!

Don't stress to get it finished if you dont have the time :smt001

:smt076 < you


:smt056
Bless

[ajrk32]

Some one has discovered the second page of Smielies! :rolleyes:

[Jinxie]

Some one has discovered the second page of Smielies! :rolleyes:

win 8)

[Imperial Dragon]

I said the next part would be with you on monday, and I know I've left it late but here it is! We're back with Jan and I'm trying to move the story along, get to the more interesting bits. My plan for the story is filling out nicely and everythings working well, i think. Thanks again for all the support and keep watching the thread, the next part of chapter six could well be with you tomorrow if i get the time. Enjoy, and comment!




PARIAH

Chapter Six - The Impossible

Sergeant Taylor lay prone amidst the grass on the outskirts of Warsaw, binoculars fitted to his eyes. The blades of grass rippled gently as the wind flowed past, the plain undisturbed by the presence of a battle-armoured EDC storm trooper Elsewhere around him, however, the field had been churned up by the passage of the Asian war machines, deep tread marks carving muddy gashes through the grass. The city itself was far behind him now, the network of concrete buildings replaced by green expanses of grassland and forest, occasionally punctuated by a farmhouse or watchtower. The main motorway into the centre of the city ran past far in the distance, the outlines of armoured personnel carriers and heavy assault vehicles faintly recognisable in the distance. The shattered tarmac on which they travelled throwing grey dust into the air, shrouding the advance of the endless USIA army. Tiny specks of black dotted the plains ahead of Jan's position, signifying the locations of Asian scouts patrolling the flanks of the advance. The sergeant's target was directly ahead of him: a large, circular clump of trees about a mile across. The wooded area was identical to any of the others littered across the green outskirts of the city. The only point that made this area unique was the skyscraper-sized Tesla cannon stabbing up into the clouds.

The remainder of C084 were scattered across the field behind Jan, converging on their sergeant's lead and all of them slowly converging on the weapon. Fritz on the far left, Jones on the far right, the Tomassons spread out behind both of them and Ramirez directly behind the sergeant. Jan's makeshift earpiece scavenged from the comms array was all that connected him to the rest of the squad, their positions making them invisible and their armour masking their heat signatures As they were still without word from the rest of the stranded storm troopers the squad was forced to make their way onwards blind and unsupported. Jan lowered his binoculars, clipped them onto his belt and continued the advance. Little by little the tiny group approached the woodland in silence, until Jan's earpiece sparked into life.

"Eyeball on the target perimeter, sergeant." Lukas Fritz's cold voice crackled through the comm link, "Scouts in the trees and extra support on foot beneath them, no way through undetected."

Jan thought for a second before responding. "How much closer can we get before they can see us, would you say?"

"Another three hundred metres, at a guess. Best to stop in another two hundred."

"And any solutions for breaking through?" The earpiece sparked again and Fritz's voice was joined by Eidur Tomasson's.

"The tree line is in radio silence, sir, no communications."

"Any possibility of them jamming us?" The sergeant replied.

Eidur allowed himself a slight chuckle before he spoke. "If they can jam us, we're fucked, sir. With respect."

Lukas returned to the discussion. "If they are not talking then I can take them out. Give us enough of a gap to slip through."

"Wait for my mark, Fritz." Jan opened the channel to the whole squad. "084, we're breaking in. Mikail T, catch up to Jonesey. You two take point and stop two hundred metres directly in front of my current position. Eidur T, catch up to Fritz and hang back with him. Sascha, meet up with me. Move." The squad gradually reformed into the three teams, Ramirez and Jan advancing to just behind the point team while the comms expert and the team sniper hung back to the far left. Once he was satisfied that everyone was in position Jan reopened the comms channel. "Safety off, Lukas, open fire. Point team, advance."

Jan only had his sniper's word to show that his task was being fulfilled. The sound of his rifle was nearly silent even through the headset and from Jan's position the mere sound of his movement through the grass stifled the faint clicks. There was no flashes from the suppressed barrel, in fact the only unusual item that his senses picked up was the sniper's whispered updates through the headset as he mercilessly executed the enemy scouts.

"Tango one eliminated. Tango two eliminated. Tango three eliminated. Tango four eliminated. Tango five eliminated. Tango six eliminated. Tango seven fell out of the tree onto tango six's corpse with part of his face missing. I used a heavy round for that one, sir, I hope you didn't mind. We are clear, sergeant, advancing on the breach."

One by one the teams approached the fresh gap in the enemy defences, occasional directions from Jan and Lukas ensuring that the advance was on track. By now Jan was close enough to the tree line to make out the bodies of his sniper's targets, each silenced with an identical shot through the right eye and into the brain. Ramirez crawled silently next to the sergeant, inch by inch getting closer to their destination. Just then the point team broke cover, trooper Jones and Mikail Tomasson bolting through the undergrowth into the forest itself. Once they had radioed back to confirm that the path ahead was safe, Jan and Sascha continued onwards before breaking cover themselves and going to ground next to the forward scout team. A few minutes later and they were joined by the final two squad members. Motioning for the squad to follow him and signalling for radio silence, Jan lead his men quietly on through the undergrowth.

The sounds of human activity became more and more pronounced as they progressed, and other than a couple of scares their passage was unhindered by enemy scouts. Eventually the foliage faded away to be replaced by thorn bushes and dusty earth. Jan dropped to the ground and motioned for the rest of the squad to do the same. They now found themselves overlooking a metal-lined circular pit the size of a sports stadium. Convoys of small lifting machines carried supplies across the spider's web of walkways, escorted by USIA soldiers and engineers. In the centre of the bowl stood the cannon itself, taking up most of the area of demolished woodland. Several doorways lined its outer surface, allowing access to the service personnel and guards. Hundreds of cables the size of tree trunks spread from the weapon in a maze of pulsing blue electronics, coupling the cannon's firing systems to colossal stacks of power cells lining the outside of the bowl. The whole area ahead of them was completely exposed, totally free of cover or defensive positions of any kind and somehow the six of them had to penetrate the weapon itself and destroy it. Just as Jan began to coordinate this impossible assault his comms expert shoved a handset towards him. The sergeant put it to his ear.

"Sergeant Taylor, this trooper Kels of C866, do you copy?"

The sergeant let out an audible sigh of relief. "Copy C866, what is your current position?"

"Northern face of the weapon bowl, sir. Unfortunately we haven't made as subtle an entry as you have and the imperials are searching the area for us. I've got four of my lads plus Shika and Evans from C491 here at your disposal, sir, but we're going to have to move fast. Their scouts will be on us any minute now."

Jan scanned the opposite perimeter of the bowl with his binoculars and could just make out the dark blue helmets of C866 and C149. They were completely isolated from his own team. This strike was not only going to be difficult but as Hels had stated they would have to work quickly. He replaced the binoculars and returned to the comms channel. "OK, trooper, this is going to be a rapid insertion. We haven't got much time to plan and the whole city is depending on us to get this right. There's no cover between us and the inside of the weapon so we're going to have to make a break for it. Visors down, weapons armed, leave no one behind. Any armed threats present themselves you take them down without hesitation. Any civilians get in your way you take them down too. Maximum force. Prep your men and wait for my signal."

"Copy 084, standing by."

Jan put the handset down and turned to his own squad, "Stick close to me. We all know this might as well be a suicide mission but it has to be done. We're the only ones that can do this and everyone is counting on us. Fritz, you're rearguard. I want snap shots on any enemy snipers. If there aren't any, try and clear the path ahead. Mikail, I want you to keep an eye on everyone else. If anyone drops, you're in charge of picking them up. Sascha, you're behind me. If anyone tries to stop us or gets too close, cut them. This is going to be one hell of a bumpy ride, people." He picked up the handset again. Part of him knew that he was leading his friends to their deaths today, and he was himself going to his. His overriding impulse was to turn and flee, to protect them all with the pain of losing Smith, Hella, Fernandez and Toshak still fresh in his mind. But through all that, his duty to his country broke through. This was no time for selfishness or thoughts of self-preservation. If he failed today Poland would fall, followed quickly by the rest of the EDC. The soldier locked his jaw and opened the comms channel to Kels. "Move." With that, he dropped the handset and kicked off, jumping down the slope and landing on the walkway below. He rolled to his feet, absorbing the impact of the landing as he did so and sped towards the spire of metal ahead of him.

Alarms started to sound across the site, their wails reverberating off the sides of the bowl and filling Jan's world with noise. Weapons began to fire and a bullet clanged off his left vambrace. Raising his rifle to chest height he fired as he moved, the head of a shotgun-carrying imperial soldier ahead of him exploding like a ripe watermelon as the rounds hit home. The rest of the squad followed suit, the suppressed staccato rhythm of gunfire from the storm troopers' assault rifles mixing with the pounding footsteps and the alarms to pump up Jan's adrenaline levels. The doorway still seemed as though it was at the other side of the country from them. Dispatching only those adversaries that posed an immediate threat and running as hard as his frame would allow, he sped along the steel gangway, An engineer somehow evaded Jan's fire and swung a hammer towards the sergeants head, receiving a swift rifle-butt to the face for his trouble. Jan had lost sight of the other squad by now and was not even paying attention to his own men. All that mattered was the open doorway ahead of him that signified safety. This tunnel vision nearly blinded him to an Asian guard on a walkway to his right who screamed in defiance as he levelled his shotgun at Jan's head. Just as he moved to pull the trigger, initiating a blast that would have had enough force to take Jan's head from his shoulders, a blue energised blade sliced up through his left arm and into his face, killing him instantly. Ramirez didn't look at Jan, didn't say anything, just kept on running behind him. Then they were there. Jan threw himself through the doorway and turned to usher his comrades inside. Sascha and Gav Jones ran past, followed by the two Tomassons, all unharmed. Fritz was almost walking along the gangway now, calmly finishing off the nearby resistance and slamming a fresh clip into his rifle. Just as he strode through the door and Jones blew the door controls to lock it shut a lone sniper round lanced through the gap between the door and the frame, stabbing into the right side of Jan's neck. The sergeant dropped to the ground as the door sealed, blood exploding out from the wound. His vision blurred as he hit the steel grills of the corridor floor. More blood spluttered from his mouth. He vaguely felt something sharp being pushed into the gap between his neck and his chest armour, then the pain lifted away. Shaking his head to clear the clouds in his vision, he steadily regained his footing and stared up at the team medic, gasping for air. Mikail was holding a thin bladed knife in one hand and a blood-stained bullet in the other.

The sergeant straightened and breathed deeply. "That fucking stung."

[ajrk32]

You"re best writing yet great job, and that sniper owns

[Morr]

You"re best writing yet great job, and that sniper owns
Yes, he managed to hit someone in the neck with a sniper round and not kill them instantly? Im no weapons expert but that takes some luck.

[Imperial Dragon]

You"re best writing yet great job, and that sniper owns
Yes, he managed to hit someone in the neck with a sniper round and not kill them instantly? Im no weapons expert but that takes some luck.

I think (hope) he meant Lukas owns, and it was a USIA sniper that caught Jan. As for the survival thing I'm still saying nothing :)

[ajrk32]

You"re best writing yet great job, and that sniper owns
Yes, he managed to hit someone in the neck with a sniper round and not kill them instantly? Im no weapons expert but that takes some luck.

I think (hope) he meant Lukas owns, and it was a USIA sniper that caught Jan. As for the survival thing I'm still saying nothing :)
I figured it out! Jan has space marine powers, and can regenerate faster that you can shoot!
or he is the emporer...
or this has nothing to do with 40k...
and yes I mean Lukas

[Jinxie]

sheer win m'dear.

i loved it!

*wants more on sarahs sadistic killing side*
(i enjoyed that very much)

yes its 12:30 am, erm no classes tomorrow,
if you sign on and see this, text me. ciao xx

[Imperial Dragon]

Next part up! All coursework is finished now and homework's going well so I should have more time to spend on this. My 'plan' of sorts is finished, so I now know exactly whats going to happen for the rest of the story and im really enjoying it, so stick with me! Thanks again for all the support everyone, and I really do welcome your comments and observations, especially if theres a loophole or something I've missed. Stay tuned.







***

Another bullet whipped into trooper Kels' leg, punching through the armour and biting into his flesh. He staggered but just managed to maintain his footing, running as hard as he could manage towards the door ahead of him. A sharp scream cut into his ear as one of his comrades fell. Shouted commands between his men and between the cannon's defence force surrounded him as he ran. Still he continued on, his heavy breathing reverberated from his visor and headset mic and his strength quickly sapping away. Blood poured from his left thigh, his left arm and three holes in his chest plate Shot after shot flew past Kels as he kept running, salvation tantalisingly close. A stabbing pain shot up his left leg again as he was hit yet again. He stumbled and tripped. His head smacked into the floor and his rifle flew out of his grasp. Kels rolled onto his back and pulled out his side arm, levelling the barrel at the Asian soldier charging towards him from behind and pushing three rounds through the man's head. Looking down, he saw the object that had tripped him up as he fell: the prone form of trooper Wilson, one blue eye staring vacantly out through the shattered glass at the front of his helmet. Swearing, Kels hauled himself back to his feet and staggered onwards, the entrance to the cannon just yards away. The door seemed smaller than before through his blurred eyes. Using the last of his strength, he forced himself to keep going through the noise and the smoke, shrugging off another bullet wound to the shoulder, his head down. As he looked back up towards the door his mouth dropped open. The door didn't just look smaller, it was closing. Swearing and shouting at the top of his lungs he redoubled his efforts, sprinting as hard as he could towards the last hope remaining to him. The door kept on sliding shut. With one last gargantuan effort he threw himself towards the gap, crashing into the white metal plate door. He was locked out. Kels slammed his fist into the door and swore with the last of his breath, then collapsed against it and slid to the floor. His men were dead. The USIA guards were converging on his position slowly, their work complete. His headset filled his ears with the screams and whimpers of the dying. He let his handgun slide out of his hand and over the edge of the walkway, dropping away out of sight. His helmet was torn free, then he felt the barrel of a pistol press against his forehead.

***

Jan gradually regained his breath and assessed the situation. All of C084 had made it inside the cannon itself without any serious injury and they still had enough ammunition and energy to continue on. Even though they had no idea which section of the tower they had managed to penetrate or which section they would need to take and destroy in order to bring the weapon down, at least their first objective was complete. The rest of his squad stood around him, reloading their weapons and checking their equipment. Jan brushed Mikail aside as the medic tried to tend to his sergeant’s wound. His brother was crouched down off to one side, attempting to raise Kels’ squad to no avail. The sergeant walked over and crouched next to him. Eidur returned the comms array handset to its cradle on his back and shook his head at Jan.

“Is there any chance that they’re inside too, and the cannon’s distorting our comms?” Jan asked.

Eidur shook his head again. “It’s possible, but each helmet transmits the trooper’s vital signs to my visor, to make sure that I’m talking to who I think I’m talking to. They didn’t make it, sir.”

Jan swore and stood. The rest of the squad stood to attention, their preparations complete, all except Jones. The team’s demolitions expert was still perusing through the wiring of the cannon’s exterior door, his knife between his teeth.

“Found anything, Gav?”

Jones didn’t look up from his work. “Not yet sir. I figured we’d need to get out of this place at some point so I’m looking for a way to reopen the doors.”

A puzzled expression crossed the sergeant’s face. “I thought you’d found the control panel when you locked us in.”

“I did, sir, but we were under a bit of pressure and I needed to stop the imps following us inside so I sealed all the doors. Now I can’t get them open again.”

Eidur strode across the corridor; his face contorted in anger and shoved Jones against the door, his forearm pressing into his team mate's throat. “You did what?”

“I sealed the doors, what’s your fucking problem?”

“Kels’ squad were killed after we got in here. You locked them out. Those men are dead because of you.”

Jones pushed the Icelander off. Mikail stood behind his brother and the three men stared each other down. Ramirez stepped in between them and activated the energy blades on her arms. “Stand down, troopers, now is not the time.” Eidur spat at Jones’ feet and turned away, motioning for Mikail to follow. Sascha sighed and frowned at Jan.

The sergeant stood in the middle of the corridor and addressed his divided squad. “Sascha’s right, we’re still dead men walking in here and the last thing I need is for you to start shooting at each other. Yes, Gav made an error that cost the others their lives, but he’s also saved ours. If you want his actions to have killed us all then go ahead, start fighting again but you’ll have to go through me first. Shut up and move out.” The twins stormed off along the corridor, followed by Ramirez. Lukas picked himself off the floor where he’d been sat cleaning his rifle, ignoring the proceedings going on around him and continued on. Jan walked over to the last member of his team, who was still leant against the door. He put his hand on the man’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “Forget about it for now, do your job and get us out of here but if we make it back alive we need to talk.” With that he turned and ran after the rest of his men, followed by Jones.

The interior of the weapon was poorly lit and composed of plates of dark steel. Pipes and cables ran along the walls and ceiling, as well as beneath their feet under the metal grids that made up the floor. A strip of weak red lights ran the length of the ceiling, crossed by the cabling in places. More red lights flashed on the walls and alarm sirens rang throughout the passage, drowning out the sounds of running boots elsewhere inside the weapon. The team finally broke out of the burrow-like tunnel, the corridor opening out into a wider hallway lit with the same red flashing lights. The six storm troopers took up defensive positions covering the area to the left and right of the tunnel exit. Directly in front of the mouth of the tunnel was a large glass map of the interior of the cannon. The directions were in Russian, but a large red arrow printed next to the entrance to one of the tunnels on the map made their current position clear enough. Jan crouched down in the centre of the troopers’ perimeter and studied the map.

"This is the part where some kind of plan would be really helpful. I want tech ideas on this place, where can we hit it hard enough to level the thing."

Ramirez stepped past Jan and pointed to a column on the right hand side of the map with numbers running down one side. "You think these are floor numbers?"

"Could be. That means we're on floor...twelve."

"This is an electrical weapon. We've seen how Tesla weapons work in a smaller scale in briefings, samples from downed imp aircraft and the like. They all work around the same basic system and the main component is an electron acceleration chamber. Ionised ring plates speed up the flow of electrons and convert a simple electronic current into the signature Tesla weapon blast."

Jan smiled at his second in command. "When did you turn geek all of a sudden?"

The Hispanic woman grinned back. "Since I started paying attention in briefings and training. If I'm right, then that symbol," she pointed to a picture of three overlapping doughnut-shaped rings on the floors list, "should be the acceleration chamber."

"Floor three. Gav, can we wipe out the whole floor?"

Jones didn't move from his crouched position, watching the corridor to their right. "I doubt that. If the acceleration plates are large enough to generate the kind of bolt that took down the Charon then 'floor three' is going to be a bit big. The only explosives we've got are on me, and that's not much."

"Any other ideas?"

"Give me enough time and space and I could destabilise the plates."

Jan looked at Sascha, who beamed back at him again. "Destabilise the plates and we damage the internal structure of the cannon, perhaps even cause it to lose structural integrity. They also won't be able to fire it safely, but that's probably all fixable and wont bring the whole thing down. If Gaz destabilises the plates and brings one or more of them out of line then firing the weapon would cause the blast to impact on the inside of the cannon itself. The cannon tears itself apart and the whole place explodes. Fireworks."

Jan opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by the sound of running men rising to a crescendo, the shouts of the incoming guards clearly audible. Fritz cleared his throat loudly. "Dying here while you three exchange pleasantries isn't my idea of a happy ending. Orders, if you would, Jan?"

The corridor echoed with a loud crack as the sergeant loaded his rifle. "Gav and Mikail, go with Sascha. Floor three. Take out as many of those accelerator plates as possible and stay alive. I'm not losing any more men today. Lukas and Eidur, you're with me. We're off to see the wizard."

The team split into their two halves. Jan, Lukas and Eidur Tomasson sprinted round the corner as the guard battalion turned into view. Jan pulled a stun grenade from his belt, pulled the pin out with his teeth and tossed it over his shoulder as they ran for the staircase ahead.

"The wizard?" Eidur asked as he ran.

Jan thought for a second. "The wonderful wizard of...yeah, I get it, I didn't really think that one through."

"Funny, sergeant." Lukas said. "This is the part where we try not to get killed, remember?"

[ajrk32]

Dam! thats good stuff there!
Crazyness all the way, good plot line too! In smiles this is what jans squad is like:
:smt067 :smt068 :smt066 :smt070 :smt071

[Imperial Dragon]

Order up! Back to Pittsburgh and the Night Tower, I'm trying to shed abit more light on 101 and the order, as well as 101's personality and her character specifically. Read, enjoy, comment, you know the drill by now.




PARIAH

Chapter Seven - The Next Generation

Blinding white light. Her eyes flickered open, returning her consciousness to the infinite brilliance. The light swallowed up everything around her, becoming her entire world. Her senses gently fluctuated in and out of activity, bringing back the fleeting images of memories long since stripped away. Sarah Ibanez's blood on the walls. The general's soft touch on her lips and the feeble sound of his last spluttered breaths. The tarmac charging upwards towards her. Adrenaline. Then sound hit her, real sound, not shadows of memories but a sample of the outside world penetrating her bubble. A soft whining noise rolled over her as the white sky moved. Slowly the light faded to a point, a spotlight in the ceiling above her. White tiles surrounded the lamp. Slowly, energy began to flood back into her body, returning feeling to her arms and legs. She rolled her head to one side, faced with a clear glass wall. Turning back to look at the ceiling and flexing her reactivated muscles, she rose out of the milky solution in the glass chamber and took a large gulp of air. She gently shook the liquid out of her silver hair and wrapped her arms across her chest. The solution was drawn away into the wall at the end of the glass box and the walls of the box withdrew. She swung her legs over the side and pushed herself to her feet, standing barefoot on the pearl white floor. She swung her arms out around her then let them drop to her sides. The white solution dripped from her hair, hands and breasts onto the floor. Off to her right a door opened and an armoured giant walked slowly into the room, stopping a few feet in front of her, his black armour making him seem like a cancer in the perfect white room. He threw a white towel towards her, which she caught and hugged to her chest. The newcomer addressed the naked woman through a grilled helmet under his black hood.

"What is your name?"

She paused for a few seconds, confusion crossing her face. "I don't have a name."

"What is your number?"

Again a pause as she delved into her long term memory. "101."

"What is my name?"

"Master."

The warrior smiled under his helmet. "Welcome back, 101. You have work to do."

***

The door to Sector One's armoury opened as 101 stepped through, dressed in her usual combat robes. She stopped just inside the door and stood with her hands on her hips, smiling. The Spartan's set-up at the Night Tower was very impressive. She was stood on a raised gantry overlooking the cavernous floorspace that comprised the majority of the sector. The forefront of the level was a series of weapons and equipment stores, each overseen by a group of acolytes. The central passageway linked these arms stores to the training section of the armoury. A cluster of identical box-shaped rooms occupied the far side of the chamber, the clamour of battle faintly echoing from them. The entire floor was nearly silent, but buzzing with activity at the same time. Still smiling, 101 descended the metal staircase towards the armoury floor.

The armoury's acolytes scurried around 101 as she walked through the armoury, carrying equipment and reports between the various arms stores. They shirked from her as she passed, one of them dropping the assault rifles that he was carrying. Two other assassins crossed her path, who stopped and raised an open palm in salute. She smiled, nodded gently to the two men and continued on. As she strode through the weapons caches an old, cracked voice called out to her from between two of the racks of equipment off to one side. She turned to see one of the chief acolytes stood behind his desk, waving a wrinkled hand at her. She walked over to him as his underlings withdrew, and he clasped her hand tightly in his own.

"101. Wonderful to see you again. You've had your latest null tank treatment?"

The assassin smiled back at the hunched man, her sparkling white teeth glinting out from under her hood. "Yes, I've just been sent straight down here, tech. I can't remember anything important, as expected."

The acolyte sighed, his face twisted into a wry smile. "Well, comes with the job I suppose. Your job at least." He dropped his voice slightly. "I still wonder what a girl like you is doing in a place like this, if you'll pardon."

"Because I'm as messed up as the rest of us, tech. I made my decision, and you made yours."

Tech chuckled under his breath. "If only I had made mine when I was still young enough to tear someone's head off. I heard about your exploits in the selection arena."

101 blushed ever so slightly and quickly changed topic. "I need outfitting. Anything new and fun?"

The older man tilted his head back and grinned. The burns that covered his face were now visible from under the hood. "You do spoil me, 101." He turned and began to peruse the shelves behind him as a shopkeeper would, taking down a series of black and silver cases and placing them in a pile on the desk. Tech took the top case from the stack and laid it down to one side, turning the front of the box round to face 101 and flipping the catches to open it. Surrounded by black foam, inside the case lay a black leather bracer. "Standard issue, you've used one of these hundreds of times but I need to make sure the null tank hasn't done too much damage. Fit it to your left forearm and make sure that the thread inside the bracer stretches over your left palm. Clench your fist and an electronic pulse is sent into the bracer itself, extending the blade hidden in the top of the bracer. The knife comes out over the top of your knuckles so that when you punch someone you stab them at the same time. The blade is spring-loaded, so if you tuck your fingers under the thread and stretch it outwards, the blade will fly free of the bracer as a projectile. You can then attach another blade from your belt if you have one spare into the slot on the bracer to replace the one you fired."

101 removed the bracer from the case and fitted it to her arm. "And the right arm?"

"Same principle, but this bracer has a built-in micro-grappling hook. Clench the fist this time and a mono filament wire will extend from the bracer directly ahead of you over your knuckles. The end of the wire holds a closed metal claw. The claw punches into whatever the wire is aimed at and opens. The cable is strong enough to suspend your body weight so long as the material holding the claw is strong enough. Stretching the cord causes the claw to close and the wire to retract. All of this happens in a fraction of a second, so you can swing around as much as you like without falling to your death, if you're good enough."

"I haven't forgotten any of it. Weapons?"

Tech opened more cases and exposed the armaments inside for 101 to view. "Double rotary silenced MPs. Each has two barrels: one suppressed and of a lower calibre, the other non-suppressed and of a higher calibre. Only one of the barrels is in place at once, the other hanging below the main body of the weapon. Press the switch on the back of the weapon and the barrels rotate, switching the active barrel. The weapon automatically switches which clip it's using based on the type of shots you want to fire. High rate of fire, fair bit of stopping power, usual stuff. They fit into the holsters on your thigh straps. Add to that your favourite rifle: your suppressed sniper-carbine, and you've got more than enough fire power for stealth missions. Remember, the rifle works under the same rotation principle as the MPs. Utility belt containing replacement bracer knives and grapples, throwing knives, smoke grenades, stun grenades, frag grenades, EMP grenades etcetera etcetera, micro-demolition and EMP charges and some medical gear. Painkillers and the like. Chest strap with more throwing knives and a holster for your rifle."

"You could've just told me that there wasn't anything new. Anything else?"

The acolyte leant on the desk, fingers interlaced in front of his face. He extended his index fingers and tapped them together as he thought. "Oh, swords, that's it." He turned back to the shelves and took down three bundles of black cloth, laid them on the table next to the stack of empty cases and unwrapped the first pair. Inside were two matched short swords, serrated down one of the blade edges. "Each has a small Tesla pulser in the hilt, sends an electrical charge along the blade on impact, adding an incapacitating shock to each blow and conducting a charge through any metal object you hit, like armour or another sword. The scabbards clip onto the back of your chest strap." He paused and grinned at 101 again, then unwrapped the larger of the three packages, revealing a beautifully ornate longsword. He tossed the weapon to the assassin. She swung it through the air, the light from the spotlights in the ceiling dancing from its glistening surface. The weight of the sword was perfect, its motion unhindered. A masterpiece of weapon design. "No electronics in this one, it just cuts things. It is quite good at cutting things though. Take care of that one, 101, you know how protective I get over the closest thing I have to friends." One of Tech's underlings tripped over an empty case on the floor and clattered into a rack of weapons, nearly dislodging some of those on the higher shelves. The senior acolyte threw a torrent of abuse at his junior counterpart, followed by a wrench. He turned back to 101. "That's your lot."

"It's a lot."

"Funny. Blood on the sheet and you're clear to go."

101 sheathed the sword and stepped towards the desk. She clenched the fist of her left hand tightly and the wrist knife extended over the back of her hand. With one movement she slashed the blade across the tip of her left index finger. As blood welled up in the cut she pushed the fingertip down onto the sheet that Tech was offering towards her, leaving a red fingerprint next to a list of the weapons she had just received She removed her finger from the paper and licked the blood from it. The cut had healed in seconds.

"Take care of yourself, child." The acolyte raised his palm. 101 did likewise, smiled and nodded to the older man, then turned away from the arms store, leaving Tech to reprimanding his subordinates. She walked back to the thoroughfare and headed for the training section of the armoury. Leaving the weapons depots behind, she passed through the opening in the dividing wall between the two halves of the armoury and was faced with a corridor lined with black doors, stretching right to left in front of her. She turned right and followed the pathway until she found the correct door, labelled '172', then pushed the control panel to the side of the door and walked into the training room. The chamber was pure white and empty. The floor was comprised of an intricate mesh of different shaped white tiles but otherwise the room was entirely unremarkable. The only object in the room was a lone assassin, sat cross-legged in the centre of the room, deep in concentration. The door closed behind 101 and the man's head snapped up, his silver eyes staring straight into hers. Without breaking eye contact the man stood and faced her as she stepped towards him. He was wearing exactly the same robes as she was, but was much less heavily armed. The two assassins stared each other down.

The female assassin cleared her throat. "Good to see you again, 172."

"Likewise. I expected he'd send you. Who better to serve as my mentor than a woman who nearly killed me?"

"Exactly."

The room fell into awkward silence for a few seconds. 172 looked at the floor, then back to 101. "So what now?"

"Passing the clinical trials, the combat trials and surviving the selection arena is the easy bit. You are now an initiate. You are a pariah. That said, you are still weak. The fact that you screwed your life up, stabbed some other mongrels and survived a minute or two in an arena with me does not make you an assassin. It does not make you capable of upholding the honour of this order. This is why I am here. I am going to change you from an invertebrate in my clothing into the perfect weapon."

[ajrk32]

W00T for IMP

[Andy]

This is so well written, really. The attention to detail in every sentence, throughout, is great, gives you a really clear picture of exactly what's going on, builds everything up really well and makes it a pleasure to read. And it's not over the top descriptive either, really easy to read, flows well, everything you'd want - hell of a lot better than I could do! :D

One thing I have to ask (Don't worry if it's going to take an age to explain): Where did you get the initial idea(s) to form the story? It is so in-depth right from the start, no way could I come up with something like that.

[Imperial Dragon]

Next section up, maybe a few more clues on show. Thanks again for all the support, I know I keep saying it but it does mean alot. Please do post up all your opinions and feedback whether positive or negative, and i'm very happy to answer any questions you might have! Enjoy!



***


172 breathed deeply and nodded.

"Take your first hit, and we'll begin. Press the button at the centre of your belt." 101 instructed, showing the junior pariah what she meant. A faint hiss sounded from the small of the woman's back and she arched her neck back as the drug shot directly into the base of her skull. Her vision turned black and white. She looked back to 172, who seemed to be glowing with a gentle, pulsing red light. Every fibre of her body tingled with barely suppressed energy, her senses razor sharp as her sympathetic nervous system went into overdrive. She grinned under her hood and flexed her arms. The male assassin's head snapped back in the same way and he staggered backwards as the stimulant took effect. He slapped his hand to his face, then scraped it away. His eyes snapped open and his pupils dilated. His mouth hung open and his tongue flopped out ever so slightly, his pointed teeth glinting white. 101 shook her head, walked over to the control console at the back of the room and pressed the first button. The panels at the far end of the room withdrew, revealing three meat hooks extending out of the wall. 101 leant on the wall next to the control console and waved a hand towards the hooks. "Ever wondered what the company does with the failed test subjects? The rat food that can't stomach the medication? We still give them a job."

Impaled on each of the hooks, metal spikes protruding through their throats hung three young men. Their hair had fallen out and their grey cloth robes were stained with blood. Each had a serial number printed in black on the chest of their robes and a bloody slash cut through their torso. Their dead eyes stared vacantly at 172 and dry blood surrounded their eyes and mouth. The men had clearly been tortured before they had died. 101 smiled as her comrade faltered slightly as he was faced by his first grisly challenge. "I need you to know what it feels like to put a bullet into a real body. Take out your pistol and put three shots into the first corpse."172 clenched his jaw and obeyed, twitching ever so slightly each time he pulled the trigger. Fresh blood ran freely from the wounds in the man's chest to stain the perfect white floor. "Put another bullet into his head. Aim for the eyes or the forehead, I don't mind which." He did so, the bullet pulverising the corpse's left eyeball. The resulting mess slopped to the floor to join the pool of blood. 172 closed his eyes as it slid free of the man's eye socket. "Come on, enjoy it!" 101 laughed, "They're never going to be this easy to catch again. Now, repeat. Three to the body, one to the head. Three to the body, one to the head. Faster. Harder. Colder."

172 repeated the cycle round the three corpses again and again until there was barely anything left of the men's faces. His movements gradually became more defined and the flinching stopped. As he rounded on the first corpse for the fifth time he fired his four shots, then with the drug still coursing through his system took a step forwards and slammed the butt of his weapon into the man's temple, roaring with rage. The top of the man's skull broke and came free, dislodging most of his fore brain as it did so and smearing pulped brain tissue across the wall. 172 stopped, panting for breath, the stepped away from the hook and wiped his hand across his face again. It was wet. He looked down at his palm to see it stained with the corpse's blood, but didn't retch at the sight. He simply licked away a trickle of the blood that was running down the side of his face and turned back to his mentor.

She grinned back at him, exposing every one of her needle-like teeth. "Feels good, doesn't it? Eventually you'll feel like that all the time, with or without the drug. Now you've got the hang of it, let's make it more personal. Draw your knife and stab the second corpse in the chest." 172 obliged, sliding the long dagger free from his belt and ramming it into the body in front of him with only a seconds hesitation. "And again." 101 ordered. He did so. "Again. Good. Now break his heart." The man turned back to his mentor, his eyes wide and pupils fully dilated, mouth hanging open. Then he turned back to the corpse, breath hissing between his teeth as he began to butcher what remained of the failed test subject. His robes were splattered with the man's blood as he worked and as much of it went on his face as anywhere else. Finally, he tore the man's heart clear from his dismembered ribcage and held it in his hand for a few seconds. He let it slide slowly out of his grasp before it slopped to the floor, then he brought his boot down on the shattered muscle, reducing it to pulped tissue. "Excellent, initiate. Excellent." 101 pressed another button on the control console and the wrecks that had once been men withdrew, the wall closing behind them. Water rushed from grates at the top of each wall and flooded the training room, washing the gore away before it too withdrew, leaving the room spotless once again.

The following hours were spent teaching the initiate the basics of the athletic abilities his drug-enhanced body was now capable of and that he would need once his training was complete. Laser projections of obstacles and situations were displayed across the room and 172 was tasked with jumping over or avoiding them. His stamina continued on undiminished for hours on end, his breathing never slowing and his strength never faltering. 101 stood and watched, contented both with his progress and the mess he had made earlier. The young pariah was showing impressive progress for his first session. After four hours of agility training the senior assassin stopped the lesson stepped away from the wall. 172 bent over double to catch his breath, but was forced back to standing upright as 101 threw one of her short swords at him. He caught it and stood to see his mentor slowly swinging the other blade round in circles in the palm of her hand. He gripped the blade tightly, a mixture of fatigue and confusion crossing his face.

"You want me to fight you?"

101's face had turned from a smile to a stern frown. "You've done it before, same objective. Survive." With that, she strode towards him, the blade held in an attacking stance. The first strike came down towards 172's head, which he just about managed to deflect away. 101 allowed her stroke to bend with the energy the initiate had exerted on the blade as she brought it back around to thrust at his throat. He stepped outside her attack and swung in for her face. She watched the blade descend and in one movement moved her head out of the way at the last moment whilst extending her sword arm further forwards and then drawing the pommel backwards into the back of 172's head. He stumbled forward and she tripped him, leaving the novice sprawled on the training room floor. He rolled onto his back but before he could regain his footing 101 was on top of him, their blades locked in a battle of strength, inches from either warrior's face. The electrical pulses running through their blades sent a shower of sparks flying around the point of contact like a halo of blood-lust, desperately trying to prise the weapons apart. Slowly the tide turned in favour of the novice and the edge of his sword moved closer and closer to 101's neck. The sparks landed on her face and burned into the skin, the marks healing almost instantly. As 172's blade reached closer still, the mentor grinned at her trainee, lurched her head to one side and pushed her sword over the top of his. His blade shot through the gap where her head had been a second before, but hers caught him on the side of the face and scored a deep cut down his left cheek. He grimaced as the shooting pain registered, then coiled his legs and kicked the female assassin from his chest, sending her flying across the room. 101 righted herself in mid air and landed on her feet in a crouching position. The initiate rose to his feet, panting more through frustration than a lack of air. He wiped the blood from his face as the cut healed, the skin sewing together in seconds, then licked the blood from his fingers.

Both warriors stared each other down in stillness and silence for minutes before 101 spoke. "Always mind your surroundings and keep moving. Every blow has to be designed to kill. We are assassins, use your strengths and training to your advantage and you will be invincible." She rose to her full height and bellowed at the younger man. "Now, kill me!"

The two assassins leapt at each other once again, duelling in a flurry of blows. 172 struck out for 101's head in vain, the senior warrior stepping out of the way of the attack easily. The next strike came in faster to the same place, but as a feint, 172 whipping the blade round to strike at the other temple and simultaneously striking towards her stomach with his hidden wrist blade. His adversary caught the fingers of the arm that carried the short knife with her left hand whilst stepping out of the path of his incoming sword arm, pulling his knife arm towards herself and swinging for his exposed head at the same time. He ducked under the blow and kicked off, propelling his knife arm towards the tutor again. Just before they crashed into the back wall of the training room, 101 the other assassin round in front of her, forcing him backwards into the wall instead of her. He kicked her off and slashed at her face, but she backed out of the way of the strike. He stepped forward and swung at her again, but she met his attack with one of her own of so much force that she sent his weapon spinning out of his hand in a flash of sparks. He staggered backwards under the force of the blow, and again to avoid her riposte. 101 feinted for the side of his head then span the blade around and stabbed him through the right shoulder. He felt the pain for a second before it was followed by a blast of electricity and his world turned black.

The senior assassin slapped his face to make sure that he was unconscious, then planted her boot on his left shoulder and heaved her sword out of his right. She cleaned the blade as she watched the wound knit back together, then retrieved the matching blade and sheathed them both on her back. She then turned and exited the training room as 172 moaned behind her, dragging himself back into consciousness The door sealed behind her and she stood in the hallway to catch her breath. She smiled to herself, opened the door again to see the initiate trying to pull himself back to his feet. Then she leaned inside and pressed the 'clean room' button on the control panel, leaving her apprentice at the mercy of hundreds of gallons of water and detergent.

[Jinxie]

serious win :)

you keep me up late to read this yanno! :wink:

you know how much i love sarah, keep up the good work on her character,
feed us background story damn you impy! :D

[Lemartes]

Another great chapter, and posted just as I went on my Lunch break, great timing!

[Imperial Dragon]

Next part up, this one's been alot of fun to write and might answer a few questions if you look hard enough. A nice insight into 101's messed up head :) Enjoy, comment, same as usual.




PARIAH

Chapter Eight - Shattered

101 sat on the floor of her dormitory, her back and head resting on the wall of the room next to her cot. The only other objects in the room were a mirror and a sink, the rest of the small, grey, cell-like chamber left barren. Her robes were hung on a black metal construction in the corner, leaving her wearing only her corset and boots. The scabbard that held her sword was hung around the mannequin's neck. The walls of the chamber were soundproofed, leaving her abandoned in her own private bubble. From where she was sat, she threw a small grey rubber ball at the wall in front of her, spinning the object in her hand so it bounced off the floor, then onto the mirror, then back into her waiting hand. The monotonous rhythm continued on and on. Her head sagged gently to one side; her hair fell across her face and her eyes half closed beneath the silver shroud. The ball continued to bounce off the mirror and 101 stayed motionless on the floor. Slowly, her brain lapsed into semi-conscious dreaming, repressed memories flickering to the surface of her mind scape

The images and feelings were distorted, as if swept away by an ethereal breeze but certain aspects shone through. Those partial memories tormented her every night as she tried to piece together the fragments of her past, the past that her time as a pariah had stolen away. She was in high school, sat in a classroom surrounded by ghost-like figures. A hand gently tapped on her shoulder and she twisted her head back to see a teenage boy smiling back at her. He was about sixteen and well-built, with short, dark hair, deep brown eyes and a pronounced jaw line. The shades around them spoke and moved slowly, but she couldn’t make out what it was they were saying. The boy didn’t speak or move, he just kept looking into her eyes and she into his. Their surroundings faded to blackness as he stood and walked around to stand in front of her. He was wearing denim jeans and a blue and gold football jersey. She didn’t move. The boy smiled again and the grey smoke wrapped around his body, stripping his clothes away. His smile faded and was replaced by anger, his face flushed and teeth bared. 101 cried out as stabbing pains racked her body. She flinched away from the vision and the smoke returned, sweeping the scene away. She lay on a hospital bed, in a room devoid of life. Complex medical machines surrounded her but beyond them the grey smoke smothered the rest of her vision. Her legs were raised and bent in front of her, her knees spread wide. The sheets covering her waist were stained with bright red blood. She was in pain, and so lonely. The room stayed silent, the absence of sound punctuated only by her own laboured breathing. From somewhere in the smoke she heard a gentle sobbing that seemed somehow familiar. The noise grew stronger and louder until she recognised the source. It was her own voice, but from many years ago. She sat up and grimaced with pain, looking ahead of her for any signs through the grey mist. The weeping reached a crescendo as a small shape was moulded out of the smoke and began to totter towards her. Tears began to run down her own face as she recognised the child. The baby walked over to the side of her bed and rested his tiny hand on her arm. His own eyes were moist with tears and blood was running slowly from his right temple and the corner of his mouth. He stood and stared at the assassin in silence, the sobbing shrieks continuing unabated. Another stabbing pain hit 101 in the heart and she screamed, the smoke returning and dragging the room into oblivion.

She was leant against a damp wall, sat in a pool of blood and water in an alleyway. Night surrounded her and icy rain ran down her back, dripping from scraps of her hair. Her face and arms hurt. She could see the dumpster to her right and the opposite wall of the alley, but the smoke obscured everything else. The grey shades returned, standing over her and gesticulating at her. They shoved their blank faces in front of hers and waved their arms in fury. One of them shoved her against the wall but his arm passed straight through her shoulder. Another one tried to drag her to her feet. She felt nothing. Her head slipped to one side, leaving her staring down at the floor. The cobbles were slick with her blood. Syringes and plastic bags floated in the pools around her. Something dragged her face back around and she found herself staring up at one of the shades. Slowly a face began to form from the mist. The man was short and thin, the bones of his skull protruding out through his face. His eyes were dark and sunk deep into his skull. Most of his hair was missing. The smoke parted further and revealed his trench coat, the right sleeve of which was cut off, showing the scars of a long since healed burn. Black fingerless gloves covered his hands, his left carrying a pistol. He shoved her again and waved the weapon in her face, his mouth shouting silently at her. One of the shades pulled his shoulder back to leave, and he turned away from the woman on the floor. As the others left, he slowed and stopped, turning back to 101. His thin lips twisted into a grin and he levelled the weapon at her head, then he began to scream. Bullet holes were torn through his chest and face, his eyes blown from their sockets. The shades returned and the screaming continued as they fell to the floor, bloody gashes torn though their blank grey faces. The blood continued to flow as the smoke swamped the scene once again. 101’s head slumped back onto her shoulders, the blood and needles the last thing she saw before the mist descended again. The smoke remained. The agony returned unrelenting, torturing her through the haze. The pain grew in its intensity until she was on the verge of madness, the experiences slowly cutting away at her consciousness. Her eyes flickered, then her eyelids drooped as she slowly passed out of her dreams, the pain drawing her out of the shattered memories. A tall shape stepped out of the mist, just before her eyes closed. The man was clad in a pariah’s robes, but his garb was white, as though he was some fusion between assassin and angel. He leant across so that his hooded face was directly in front of hers and smiled. His mouth opened and his breath washed over her face like a narcotic, but before his words reached her 101's eyes slid shut and her mind snapped back into reality.

The smoke disappeared and 101 found herself back in her room, the familiar metal walls surrounding her like a hard, grey, steel safety blanket. The rubber ball lay on the floor next to her right leg. Her head slapped back against the wall and she swallowed a mouthful of air. Her body ached all over. Grimacing through the stiffness, she reached a hand down to push the hexagonal button at the centre of her belt. As the silver panel was depressed the satchel on her spine activated and pushed a concentrated dose of stimulant into the base of her skull. Her eyes shot open and she blasted the mouthful of air back at the ceiling. The assassin pulled herself to her feet and shook the sleep from her head, picking up the rubber ball from the floor as she stood. Flexing her arms, 101 walked over to her sink and leant on the rim. She turned on the tap and splashed ice cold water into her face, then looked upwards at the mirror. The glass was cracked. A spider's web of fractured glass radiated out from the centre of the mirror, casting a series of splintered reflections back at 101. She smiled at the distorted image. Someone tapped on the door to her room. She turned to the portal and threw the rubber ball at the control panel next to it. The door opened with a hiss of pneumatics.

A black and silver robed acolyte entered the room and bowed. Her eyes were lowered and she continued to stare at the floor as she spoke, the assassin's gaze boring a hole in the top of the servant's skull.

"Summons for officer 101. Lord Spartan demands your attendance in his private quarters, mistress."

101 nodded at the shrivelled bundle of cloth. "Dismissed."

The acolyte bowed again and backed from the room, the door closing behind her. The assassin sighed and strode over to the mannequin, strapped the blade to her left side and began to dress herself.

[ajrk32]

nice job, it really ties in 101's history.

[Jinxie]

ok O.O

*goes back for another read*

think its gonna take two or three reads for me to make sense of that :D
(thats good)

There will be an edit!

[Imperial Dragon]

Chapter 8 completed. I should have the first part of 9 done by monday, hopefully, but I'm going to be pretty busy this weekend so I'll have to do my best. I'm really enjoying this atthe moment, so thanks again for the continued support and keep reading!




***

The atmosphere in the conference chamber drifted back to silence as The Spartan raised his right hand. The other four master pariahs seated around the rectangular oak table stopped their arguments, gradually quietened down and turned their heads to the armoured figure at the head of the table. The man sat motionless until silence was restored, then gently brought his hand down onto the wood. His breath hissed through the grill on his helmet. The rest of the masters remained still and waited for him to speak.

"Unity is required today. This issue has to be resolved now, but resolved correctly. We may be short on time but we are also in receipt of a thin margin for error, so despite your differing opinions on the matter we must reach a consensus" 01 paused, his eyes scanning his comrades for any sign of complaint before he continued. "Our mandate, my brothers, is to carry out our father's vision. The current global equilibrium must be preserved and so it is this priority which must be foremost in our minds. The USIA are making too much ground in mainland Europe As we speak, however, their war effort is being undermined by a small task force outside of Warsaw. This team has infiltrated their primary Tesla cannon, which is currently the only thing holding the EDC storm trooper corps at bay and safeguarding their army's advance. Should this Tesla cannon not be destroyed the USIA will take Warsaw. However, as you know, we do not expect this eventuality to occur. Instead we have this more pressing issue. A network of spies within the polish administration is set to deliver MPEC blueprints into the hands of the imperial government. We managed to stop this operation in Kiev after the fall of the Ukraine, but it seems that Emperor Kamanov is more persistent than we first thought. These Asian assets must be stopped. Without their technological advantage the EDC will quickly fold under the weight of the USIA's war machine and our cause will be considerably weakened. The question before you today is how do we maintain this current state of affairs?"

The hooded figure to The Spartan's right was the first to speak. His robes were black and purple, with the numbers 02 stitched into the cloth covering his shoulder. Under his hood the faint glistening of bone could be distinguished amidst the shadows, but nothing else. "This is not as pressing a matter as you label it to be, Spartan. A stone does not become a rose simply because our lord 01 designates it to be such." The room flared up into hostility once again and The Spartan once again roared for order. He turned his head to 02 and motioned for the man to continue. "Thank you. As I have stated from the beginning of this debacle, the EDC's technology should be viewed as a tool with which to throw the world deeper into this chaos rather than something to be coveted. Allowing the USIA to take control of rudimentary MPEC technology would increase the strength of their economy and stop the Europeans from moving to take control. At the moment all that is keeping the EDC from global domination is idiotic politics and the odd joker card from the imperials. We have all seem the damage that they are capable of reaping on the American fleets across the Atlantic and the ferocity with which they defend Iceland. We must take this opportunity to weaken the EDC's standing. Allow the spies passage back to Asian territory."

01 nodded to the other master. "The current balance is in our favour, Scourge. If the situation did not change then father would be happy, this war is set to continue for a long time yet. Granting the imperials access to the confederacy's power source would tip the balance in their favour, away from us. I have to disagree."

The Scourge moved to speak again but was interrupted by the figure to his right. 04 rose from his chair and threw his hood back, his red and black robes swinging around him with the violence of his movements. Light reflected from his hairless head, contrasting the red lightning bolts painted on his face that in turn merged with his array of battle scars. "My vote is with 01. The spies have to be eliminated to preserve our order."

"Thank you, Betrayer. Your opinion, 03?"

The Ecstasy smiled from under her own hood. "Agreed, but if you could shoot the mongrel in the leg it might cheer me up." The Betrayer snarled at the woman on the other side of the table and slowly returned to his seat.

The Spartan nodded again, satisfied, then turned to the last member of their council. "Harlequin?"

The green-robed master stopped examining her fingernails, looked over at 01 and sighed. "Pass."

"And what's the court jester's problem today?" 03 asked, a snide smirk replacing her earlier smile.

"Fuck you, three."

The Spartan chuckled to himself, then tapped on the table to regain the council's attention. "I'm afraid you're outvoted again, Scourge. Maybe this time the mission will bring you around to our way of thinking. This is my hope, at least. Now that we have sorted the primary discussion, can we return to the debate as to our methods?"

04 stood again. "I have officers to spare. Any of them could carve a bloody path through European and Asian alike, eliminate the target and extract unhindered."

"As could any of the veteran officers in our order, four." The Scourge turned to the head of the table before continuing. "If this is to be our course of action then we must be discreet. With all reverence, four, your sector isn't particularly renowned for subtlety."

The Betrayer grunted and returned to his seat as 02 continued. "I would offer my own sector's services, Spartan. Our skills as shock weapons are unsurpassed."

05 was the next to reply. "I second two's proposal, the reputation speaks for itself if he can be trusted not to follow his own motives instead of those of our collective." A growl slipped out from under 02's hood. "Sector five's methods are too traceable for this particular operation, so I retract our own services from the pool. I would also suggest that Spartan's own sector be one of those considered, if he doesn't have a problem with sharing again."

The Ecstasy giggled, biting down on her tongue. "Oh calm down, will you! I don't think I can be arsed helping with this one, sector one should be perfect for it, enough said."

"So, its between one and two." The Spartan offered, ignoring the dispute between the council's two female members. "If you don't mind, Scourge, I've already taken the liberty of assigning one of my own elites to this."

The Scourge looked at the floor, sighed deeply and clenched one thin hand into a fist. "As you wish, one. As you wish."

"Then this meeting is complete. I will ensure that both Poland and the MPEC plans stay under EDC control. You have my word." 01 stood from his chair, as did the rest of the masters. They each raised their right hands in salute, and one by one filed out of the room. The Scourge was the last to leave. He stopped at the end of the room and turned back to the master of sector one.

"Don't mess this one up. Just because you have the lowest number now doesn't make you lord over us all." The master left the hall, his purple-trimmed robes flaring out behind him.

***

101 approached the entrance to sector one's command centre. The steel corridor opened out into a final chamber before ending in a large metal door, similar to the one that had led to The Harlequin's private laboratories. This door was imprinted with the numbers 01 on the centre plate. On either side of the plate door stood black-robed guards, a thin silver streak down their left sides signifying their membership the The Spartan's sector. As the assassin headed for the door the guards drew their swords and crossed them in front of the portal with one swift movement. Their faces were concealed by black cloth masks under their hoods, meaning that not a patch of skin was visible. These warriors were known as the Primus and they made up The Spartan's personal guard, a select group of the pariahs in his sector who were tasked with protecting their master at all costs. Both guards spoke in perfect unison, the signature lacing of their order's medication clearly evident in their harmonic voices.

"Identify."

101 stood up straight and eyed both the Primus warriors before she spoke. "Pariah 101."

"State."

"Master 01 has requested my attendance, he has some matter or other to-"

The Primus cut her off. "Enter."

A hint of surprise flashed across the assassin's face for a brief second, then the swords withdrew and the door started to grind open. 101 passed between the guards and into the darkness of her master's private quarters.

The Spartan's office was a forge. The far end of the room was taken up by a furnace that covered the full face of the wall, lined with ash-coloured clay bricks. In front of the forge, black iron racks of every kind of blacksmith's tool imaginable lined the brick wall, next to a wooden barrel of water. In the centre of the room stood a giant black anvil. As the assassin walked gingerly into the room a second door opened in the right hand wall, through which her master strode. She stopped by the door and saluted. 01 didn't respond and kept on walking towards the anvil, so 101 didn't move her arm. The master stopped in the centre of the room, turned to his student and returned the salute.

"It's good to see you, 101."

"Thank you, master."

The Spartan looked around the forge, contented. "Each sector of this order has its own speciality, it's own reputation. My sector is the highest ranked in the order. We are the most powerful warriors, the most skilled, the best. Look at the walls." He swept his arms around him. The side walls of the room were covered in weapons racks. Swords, axes, halberds, daggers, spears, shields, rifles, pistols, machine guns, grenade launchers. An innumerable array of every kind of weapon, masterly crafted. "All of these were made by my hand. I am the head of this order. The whole of the council looks up to me. I am the greatest warrior that has ever existed, and you are my greatest student." 101 smiled, her face glowing with pride. "Few pariahs have a high level understanding of the aims of our order. Do you?"

101 smiled again and nodded. "We fulfil the aims of our father. The world cast him out for who he was, so he created us in his own image to wreak havoc on the traitors. They sent their world to hell and we are the gatekeepers, prolonging their misery to ease that of our father."

"Good. Now I need you to be an agent of their continued destruction. The situation between the USIA and the EDC is becoming...complicated. Imperial intelligence field agents have penetrated the polish governance and are set to send plans for Europe's revolutionary MPEC reactors back to mother Russia. The primary cell has acquired the blueprints and given them to their cell leader, then evacuated the country. This means that the documents are still inside the EDC, themselves to be evacuated shortly once the imperial army is 'driven' from Poland. If the confederacy loses sole control of MPEC technology then the war will start to turn against them. Eventually, Europe will fall and the UNA will have the full might of an Asia powered by magnesium beating down their door, a fight which America cannot win. This cannot be allowed to happen. You are going to become the roadblock that stops this future coming to pass. Your target is minster Alexsy Sobczak, sector minister for the environment. Pack your things, you're going to Warsaw."

[ajrk32]

its some sort of sick cult of destruction!!
awesome, now the story is coming together!

[Jinxie]

Yesh i never edited the last post. Oops :)
I love how its all coming together, and i cant wait to see how Sarah fares in Warsaw!

Plus the different sectors make it very interesting,
i'd like to see the work of some of the less-subtle sections!

I'll wait impatiently for chapter 9! :smt016

[ajrk32]

pester him for us will you? :mrgreen:

[Gman13]

I really love the prolouge. Though some explanation of the magnesium energy generator would be nice. It seems to violate some laws of physics (matter cannot be created or destroyed). If you aren't inputting anything, how are you getting anything out of it?

I'm sorry if you already answered the question -- I really didn't want to scroll through 4 pages.

[Imperial Dragon]

MPEC stands for Magnesium Photon Explosion Cell. It consists of a thin mesh covered in finely powdered magnesium, surrounded by solar panels. When you oxidise magnesium powder in air you get an exothermic reaction that emits very bright light. The "solar panels" that make up the wall of the cell absorb this light and convert it into electricity. However, the by product of this is magnesium oxide, which is useless and ordinarily you would need to replace the magnesium after each burst. The key part of the system (and the bit that doesnt exist in non-fiction) is that the mesh that the magnesium metal rests on is a synthetic biological membrane. Firstly you get a structure alot like a Ziegler-Natta catalyst, so you have a very high surface area, and secondly the membrane contains high concentrations of Nicotinamide Adenine Dinucleotide/Flavin Adenine Dinucleotide coenzymes, like you get in Kreb's Cycle in the biochemistry of respiration. These coenzymes 'recycle' the magnesium oxide back to magnesium, excreting oxygen back from the system. The coenzymes are artificial and are built to be voltage-controlled, so they activate when a strong enough current is passed through them. The magnesium burns to form magnesium oxide and creates power, a portion of that power is re-routed back through the membrane to active the coenzymes, the coenymes strip the oxygen from the magnesium oxide and reduce it back to magnesium metal, the oxygen is excreted and the system starts again for an overall net gain of power. The only influxes required are hydrogen gas and oxygen gas, drawn in from the air through a filter that prevents the uptake of nitrogen.

Scientifically the bit that doesnt fit is the coenzymes. We dont have the means to create anything like that. I'll have a think about that but in all this is science fiction written by someone who has a pathological hatred for physics :D, so its all built around biochemistry. If there's any physical advice on offer as to how the idea needs to be changed to made it work let me know, but there has to be some part of it that doesnt fit or it would'nt be sci-fi: we'd have it today.

[Morr]

I really love the prolouge. Though some explanation of the magnesium energy generator would be nice. It seems to violate some laws of physics (matter cannot be created or destroyed). If you aren't inputting anything, how are you getting anything out of it?

I'm sorry if you already answered the question -- I really didn't want to scroll through 4 pages.

Energy can be created, they just teach that it cant as a) as most things are in physics, its still a theory even if they are 99.99% sure of it, and B) it makes all those lovely equations a hell of a lot more easy to do and c) its only relevance is some pretty advanced stuff which most people never need know.

As energy and matter are essentially the same thing (i shit you not) matter can be created.

[Gman13]

Would you like to explain how it could be created? Because I'm sure we'd all love to know.

Pre-emptive strike: Converting energy to matter is a conversion process, not creation.

[Morr]

Would you like to explain how it could be created? Because I'm sure we'd all love to know.

Pre-emptive strike: Converting energy to matter is a conversion process, not creation.
the energy comment was because energy can be created and then turned into matter. As for explaining it, A) thats off topic, B) i dont understand it fully myself and c) do you really think you would understand if i could explain? unless you have at least a degree in physics you couldnt even grasp the basic principles.

[Imperial Dragon]

Next section up!



PARIAH

Chapter Nine - Interior Redesign

Sascha knocked the last guard to the floor with a kick to the face, before pouncing on his stricken form and ending his life with a swift slash through the throat. Gav checked the corridor ahead to make sure their path was now clear, while Mikail checked that the downed guards were indeed dead. The three storm troopers rounded the next corner in the endless corridors, Ramirez letting out a sigh of exasperation as she checked the next map plate. "Level five. Two to go. Why couldn't the imps've made this thing a bit smaller? Now, what's the money that this door is left open for us?" She walked over to the next stairwell door and put her shoulder against it. It didn't budge. She let out another sigh, levelled her shotgun at the lock and fired, blowing the door open.

"Another staircase, how original." Mikail commented as he and Jones followed Ramirez onto the floor below. As they descended the unguarded stairwell and reached the door at its base, Sascha held up her hand for the team to stop. She remained motionless and stared at the door.

"Shit. Twenty heat signatures" She looked at her two comrades for ideas. Jones responded by unhooking a triple-barrelled grenade launcher from his back and loading a clip of fifteen rounds into the back of the weapon. He nodded at Ramirez, who put her hand on the door handle and stood behind it. She pulled the door open and the demolitions trooper ran through, firing as he moved. The spherical grenades skittered across the plate metal floor towards the assembly of frightened guards. Bullets whipped towards the Welshman as he expended his ammunition, sliding to a halt along the floor. One round struck him on the side of the helmet but otherwise evaded the assault. The grenades also slid to a halt. Before the guards had finished their first clip, Gav pulled the secondary trigger beneath the weapon's firing tubes. Each grenade hissed briefly, then shot up a metre into the air and exploded. Burning metal needles sprayed across the hallway, cutting down the entire garrison. Once the echoes had subsided he pulled himself back to his feet and walked into the devastation to inspect the damage that he had inflicted. Three inch-long needles protruded from throats, eyes and faces, punching holes through their armour and in some places severing limbs. Burns covered their exposed skin. Gav turned back to the door and waved the other two storm troopers on. As he did so, a spluttering sound by his feet made him switch his attention back to the guards. A Japanese soldier lay face up on the floor, blood bubbling from his mouth. His face was half burned off and a strip of three needles cut through his left eye. Jones looked down at the pitiful shape, paused for a second then brought his boot down on the man's head.

The three troopers reached the next staircase with minimal resistance, broke through the door, ran down the steps and entered level three. Before them stood the internal workings of the titanic weapon. It was as though they were looking down a giant underground tunnel, but one that had been placed on its end. The main conduction barrel trailed off far into the distance overhead, the rest of the barrel leading downwards towards the power cells and foundations just a few floors below them. Pipes and cables ran the length of the barrel, some the width of tanks. Every few hundred metres the tube was ringed with electromagnets to focus the beam of electrons, pulsing blue and humming with life. The whole system seemed to be alive, like a spider waiting to pounce on the next target that dared show the cannon its face. However, the team's main target stood directly in front of them. Three massive metal rings, each heading for a hundred metres thick and taking up most of the chamber with their girth. The acceleration plates were suspended on a set of six metal struts each, anchoring them to the walls of the barrel. Each ring was vibrating, the deafening sound tearing at the team's ears. A control tower rose out of the floor ahead of them, rising up to just above the third plate from where its service cranes and boom arms could effectively service the weapon's vital propulsion system. Somehow the three of them had to make it into the tower. The only minor obstruction in their path was the majority of the station's guards, combined with any non-combat personnel able to wield a weapon, who crouched behind makeshift barricades between the team and their goal. They opened fire as Sascha, Gav and Mikail moved out of the stairwell and sprinted for the nearest patches of available cover, sliding the last few feet to safety. The tool crates and machinery they hid behind were gradually eroded by the hail of fire, the confederacy soldiers able to do little more than take the odd potshot at the defenders. Ramirez sagged back behind the forklift that served as her shelter and activated her comm link

"Jan, this is Sascha. Pick up. We've hit the right level but there's a hornet's nest of them down here, we're gonna be while. Status?"

***

"Don't worry yourself, it's all rosy up here too." Jan fired two shots from his rifle, the laser sight held in front of his right eye. Both of the guards at the end of the corridor crashed to the floor, red dust splashing out of the wounds on their faces. The team ran onwards towards the double doors at the end of the passage. "You hang in there, Sash." Lukas and Eidur stopped either side of the door as the sergeant cut the connection. The German put his shoulder against one of the doors, but to no avail. Jan looked behind him as he approached the door, scanning the rear of the passageway for any sign of their pursuers, then turned back to the door and pointed urgently at the control panel next to it. Lukas pushed the green button and tried the door again. Still no movement. The three storm troopers dropped to one knee with their backs to the door and levelled their weapons down the corridor.

"So, what now?" Lukas asked, his voice holding steady.

Tomasson thought for a second, then took a deep breath. "This is the only way up to the bridge. Each level is built in the same style: only one way in, one way out if you want to stay inside the cannon. If we can't get further up through here, we either have to go further inside and get up the barrel somehow, or go back outside and make our way up like that if its possible, but I doubt it."

"We could go up the outside, we've got the climbing gear. I'd rather not go up the barrel. I've got a note from my mum saying I can't be exposed to massive, lethal bursts of electricity that knock carriers out of the sky."

The door beeped behind the troopers and the panels slowly apart. Jan banged the butt of his rifle on the floor and stood up. "For fucks sake, it's a lift. Move." They backed inside the compartment and sealed the doors, then Eidur punched the button to take the team up the lift shaft. The lift slowly began to haul the three of them towards their destination. Below them, the sound of shouted Russian echoed into the shaft as the guard squads arrived at the door. Fists banged on the metal and buttons were pressed but Jan, Lukas and Eidur continued on upwards. Jan opened the comms channel again. "We've hitched a lift to the bridge, how's tricks on your end?"

***

"Messy." Sascha rolled around the side of the forklift and vaulted the crate in front of her, then sprinted to the next piece of cover and sprayed its occupants with a rain of bullets. The three defenders dropped and the other two troopers moved up. Jones dropped back behind another patch of cover, slipped his rifle over the top and fired randomly over his head. The fire was answered by a few stifled screams as the ammunition found its mark. He popped his head out above the crate, finished the clip and ran to the next piece of cover as he reloaded. A pistol round tore through the armour plates covering his right side, punching a bloody hole into his armpit. He shouted and hit the floor. Bullets continued to lance into the floor around him and he was hit twice more in the legs, then the enemy fire slowly stopped. He opened his eyes and rolled over, wincing through the pain. Sascha and Mikail were stood over him, offering their hands to pull him up.

"I think they hit something important, this hurts like hell." He regained his footing, one hand clutching the wound in his side. Blood was running freely from the hole, the nanomachines in his body doing nothing to stem the tide. The medic supported his team-mate and led him over towards the control tower where the third member of their party was waiting. Sascha leant on the ladder, her shotgun resting on her shoulder. She waved the other two over, glancing frantically upwards to make sure that no one was aiming at her from the top of the tower.

"I'll go up there, take out the rest of them and guide you with whatever tech they have. Mika, you look after Gav while he sets the charges. Keep him in one piece." She turned and began to climb the ladder.

The demolitions trooper walked stiffly over to the edge of the platform and scanned his surroundings. "I need to shift one or two plates, but I've only got enough explosives for one. I take out the middle ring on one side and the beam can't form. How the hell I'm going to get up there I've no idea." As he looked over the edge the control tower whirred into life, one of the crane arms swinging down towards them as Ramirez waved at them from the top of the tower. Mikail made a loop of cable from his climbing gear, looped it over the hook on the crane and gave it to Jones to hold onto. The metal frame groaned at it lifted the storm trooper, hovering him over the gaping void before depositing him on top of the accelerator plate. The metal shocked him through his armour as he landed and vibrated strong enough to nearly throw him clear. He rose slightly to a crouch and headed for the first support strut.

***

The elevator stopped and the lights went out. Jan swore.

Lukas let out a sigh of exasperation. "It's times like this that breed racism." He unhooked his sniper rifle from his back and poked it into the hatch in the ceiling, knocking it through, then he returned the weapon to its holster and climbed onto the roof of the lift. Jan and Eidur followed. The three of them stood on the top of the elevator and fired grappling magnets into the upper reaches of the lift shaft. One by one they began to climb. "I'm starting to this this whole Tesla cannon thing is a lot more trouble than it's worth."

After what seemed an age the team finally reached the elevator door to the bridge. They dangled from the roof of the lift shaft in their first moment of relative calm in days.

"Demo charges?" Jan asked his team-mates The others shook their heads. More Russian voices sounded from inside the door and slowly the panels slid backwards. A technician stood in the breach, peering down the shaft for any sign of the intruders. Jan laughed. "That was so easy it's almost painful." The man's head snapped up and his eyes widened in shock as he saw the storm troopers. Eidur's boot swung into his face, his other foot caught him round the back of the neck and he pulled the man screaming into the shaft. His screams dwindled into the distance as he dropped into the blackness. The troopers dived through the door as it started to close again and opened fire. Technicians, engineers, officers and guards alike fell to the floor, twisting in pain as the bullets tore through their clothes and flesh. The metal floor ran slick with blood. Bodies were draped over consoles and the survivors crouched in one corner, hands behind their heads.

Fritz reloaded his rifle and patrolled the bridge while Eidur and Jan pored over the control panels. "You will not move. You will not speak. You will do nothing. If you so much as irritate me in any way you will be following your friend who opened the door." Lukas punched the butt of his rifle through the frontal window of the bridge, filling the room with a sweep of freezing cold wind. "It is a really, really long way down." He picked up one of the corpses from the floor and tipped it out of the hole. Every face in the room watched the body through the glass floor as it plummeted to the foundation bowl far below. "Yep, long way down."

[Lemartes]

Good, I much prefer Jans story to Sarahs. They are both good, I just like the Stormtrooper stuff better than the Assassin stuff.

[Jinxie]

I much prefer Jans story to Sarahs.

Oh i disagree! i LOVE sarah's story! :D

[Imperial Dragon]

Quick update, finishing off chapter 9 before the really fun stuff starts :D Chapter 10 will be with you shortly, so stay tuned!



***

Sascha trained her sights on the stairwell door that lead into the accelerator chamber. The imperials wouldn’t leave them be for long, so she knew they had to work fast despite Jones’ wounds. The demolitions trooper was making good progress atop the central accelerator plate but they were running out of time.

“Come on Gav, we have to move. How much longer is this going to take?”

The voice that returned over the comm link was noticeably laced with pain despite his best efforts. “On the last strut now.” His breath caught in his throat as he worked, planting the last set of charges. He coughed, blood splattering on the inside of his visor.

“You sure you’re all right?”

He winced again, then primed the last of his explosives. “I’m fine. I don’t really have enough kit to do as much damage as I’d like, so I’ve had to make do. If this isn’t enough we need a new plan and fast.” The crane arm steadily lowered him back to ground level as a crowbar was forced through the gap in the door frame He dropped the last few feet and hit the floor, swearing as the breath was knocked out of him. Mikail hauled him to his feet and half-escorted half-dragged him to the base of the control tower as Ramirez dropped from the bottom of the ladder. She joined the team medic and formed a barrier in front of their downed comrade. The door began to buckle.

Eidur reloaded his weapon and stared down the barrel at their pursuers. "Now would be a good time, Gavin."

The demolitions trooper raised his left arm. Just above the wrist was a small computer unit, which he activated by tapping the screen. The screen flared into life. A series of small blue circles appeared on the front panel and far behind him the charges illuminated themselves. The door continued to buckle. The console flashed again and a red circle appeared in the centre of the screen. He looked back up at the door and swallowed.

"That the only way out of here?"

Sascha didn't move. "Yep."

Jones nodded and pressed the centre of the console. The demolition charges exploded. The roar of the explosion and wash of fire died away to be replaced by the painful sound of tearing metal. The door crumpled and the imperial soldiers stepped into the breach. Gav's head snapped round, he hefted his rifle and pointed the muzzle at the first head to come into view. "Shit," he muttered. Another crashing sound hit him from behind and his head snapped around again. The central accelerator plate tore free of its mountings and slammed down onto the plate below. Jones threw his arms into the air. "Yes!" he shouted. It slipped from the top of the lower plate and crashed through the control tower, slicing the structure in half. The plate slid to a halt and rested at an angle, half of it crossing the hole in the bottom plate and the other half resting amidst the wreckage of the acceleration chamber's command tower. The top end of the tower began to slip down. Gav's eyes widened as the massive pile of metal came thundering down towards them. "Shit!"

The three storm troopers sprinted for the door. Hostile fire flashed towards them but they carried on into the storm. The faces of the enemy guards changed from determination to fear as they too registered the incoming tower. The guards began to back away, running back up the stairs as their squad leader berated them. He remained stock still, firing at the confederacy soldiers. Their world was torn apart with a typhoon of sound as the structure crashed into the floor, a colossal wave of steel sweeping across the chamber towards the fleeing team. Sascha's forearm blades collided with the soldier in front of her's chest, slicing though his leather armour and shredding his internal organs. She rolled to her feet and kicked off, running up the stairs after her team-mates They broke through the door onto level four and slid to a halt as the remains of the tower hit the door of the floor below, throwing a cloud of dust and shrapnel up the stairs after them. As they dropped to the floor, the retreating guards reformed in front of them and opened fire once again.

The team gradually worked their way back to the outside door of the weapon. Something was jamming their communications. As Ramirez approached the door, the ruptured panel that they had escaped through not so long ago allowing light and air into the claustrophobic tunnel system. She stepped outside, well aware of what could be waiting. Nothing was waiting. Dead bodies and an eerie silence was all that greeted her. The team loaded their weapons and scanned the area as they moved out into the open. Just then the silence was torn apart by the roar of engines. Three EDC drop ships slid into view, their vectored thrusters washing the walkways clean with white fire and the deep blue armour of the storm trooper corps visible inside the loading bays. Drop ship 811 ground to a halt in front of the team and it's charges disembarked.

"Sergeant Fyo Inneas, Squad T811, EDC Carrier Tyrus at your service, trooper Ramirez. Our tracers have been monitoring your progress and once your sergeant took control of the weapon's bridge we were dispatched to assist. What's your status?"

"We took down the accelerator chamber. Jan fires the weapon and it tears itself apart."

"Understood. Get in, and we'll go fetch the others."

***

Eidur Tomasson continued to tap away at the keyboard on the weapon's main control console as Fritz monitored the hostages. The team's pack horse swore under his breath and turned to his sergeant.
"I'm in, but I can't hold back the lockout system for long. I'm not Jones."

Jan nodded and opened the comms channel. "Sash, come in. What's your status. We heard an explosion." The headset delivered nothing but static. "Sascha. Come in." A flash of blue metal roared past the window and the three troopers dived for cover, Lukas training his sniper rifle on the ship outside the bridge.

"I'm here, calm it!"

Jan lowered his weapon and laughed as he saw Ramirez waving from the belly of the drop ship
She stopped waving and put her hands on her hips. "Yeah, good to see you too. Punch it and let's get out of here."

Eidur grinned, nodded and started up the firing sequence. Behind him, the station commander gave out a shout, pulled a knife from he back of his boot and charged the storm trooper Fritz stepped forward, clenched his right hand into a fist and smacked the commander between the eyes, knocking him to the floor, unconscious.

"Punching done. Let's move."

The room flashed with red lights as the team jumped through the shattered window and onto the drop ship's loading bay. The engines titled, melting what glass remained on the bridge windows and blasting the ship away from the cannon. The thrusters carried C084 to safety as the bridge faded into the distance. A blue pulse of electricity licked around the exterior of the cannon, growing in intensity, then a hole exploded through the base of the weapon. The breach was followed by several more, Tesla bursts tearing the structure apart. Another blue flash illuminated the base of the bowl as the rebounding energy hit the power core. The drop ship was slapped with a massive shock wave, nearly throwing her occupants lose as the woodland exploded in a cascade of lightning and fire.

[Lemartes]

Good one mate, looking forward to hearing what happens to C084 next...

[Le Shirrif]

energy can be created and then turned into matter.

A few points...

1) This story frickin' rocks, keep it up!

2) Morr - You are saying you can make matter... from nothing? Could you PM me with an explanation of this, so as not to get the thread of topic?

[Morr]

energy can be created and then turned into matter.

A few points...

1) This story frickin' rocks, keep it up!

2) Morr - You are saying you can make matter... from nothing? Could you PM me with an explanation of this, so as not to get the thread of topic?

I wasnt saying from nothing just that it can be. I have already posted the reasons why explanation wont be possible. lol when i fully understand Nuclear physics you will all be the first to know lol.

[ajrk32]

back, love the story,
and the physics!

[Cordova]

Awesome awesome.

One of the best stories I've read hereabouts - rivaling the Red Skulls... :)

And I must say I'm a fan of Lukas and Gav.

Keep it up.

[Tyranidlord]

One of the best stories I've read hereabouts - rivaling the Red Skulls... :)


I'll second that. Hopefuly this bit of 'competition' will get me motivated to do more on the Red Skulls, When I have some time... :?

Bloody good work so far mate. Keep it up. Your writing style is awesome, especially with the detail of the storm troopers.

~TL

[Imperial Dragon]

Yey!!!

Seriously, thanks everyone. It really means a lot :D

[Imperial Dragon]

Here we go: chapter 10 at last! Sorry about the wait, but this is a big update :D Things are going to start to get interesting, so keep reading, keep thinking, keep commenting and I'll have part 2 up very shortly!




PARIAH

Chapter Ten - Convergence

The storm trooper corps descended on Warsaw. The carriers disgorged swarms of drop ships, tearing through the sky towards the USIA army like a plague of locusts. Bomber squadrons sent napalm and high explosive munitions hurtling down on the beleaguered imperial forces, tearing great gashes in their ranks while the fighter commands directed their own aircraft in ferocious dogfights against their opposite numbers. Any question of air superiority died as the carriers cast their terrible shadows over the city below. Carrier Tyrus floated effortlessly like a malignant spirit over the Palace as the gunners sighted their targets. Rockets and tank shells glanced off the behemoth’s shields and armour. Armour plates in the ship’s hull retracted, revealing the barrels of some of the most powerful weaponry available to the confederacy. Steam vented from the side of the weapons and a high-pitched whining sound filled the air as they charged, then the centre of the city turned a brilliant white as the Tyrus disgorged its deadly payload. The compressed particle beams tore great craters into the ground where they impacted, vaporising thousands of men with each strike. Heavy assault vehicles that had been shrugging every shot fired at them by the EDC defenders for days evaporated in seconds. Intricate defensive emplacements were flattened, the craters coated with ash. With one blow, the Tyrus destroyed the entire Asian front line, sent countless soldiers to their deaths and routed the survivors. Carrier Mortis sent blasts of energy into the Vistula River, annihilating the USIA landing craft and boiling the water in the river. Clouds of steam swept across the battlefield, masking the horrific scenes below. The landing craft turned to dust, as did their charges, the slain offered no chance to cry out or plea before their remains were cast to the winds. Those unfortunate enough not to be caught in the initial blasts were thrown overboard by the shock wave and landed in the river itself, their flesh melted from their bones by the superheated water. The Vistula filled with the terrifying shrieks of the dying, themselves obliterated by the deafening cracks of the carriers’ heavy ordnance.

Carrier Praetorian pushed its primary engines into overdrive and powered through the air past the Mortis’ scenes of destruction. The USIA artillery emplacements in the city suburbs were being dismantled, the army’s high command sounding the order to retreat. The cannons were lowered and the city bombardment vehicles and SAM launchers raised their stabilising struts. They didn’t even have time to start their engines before the Praetorian hit them. The particle beams flattened hundreds of houses and tore the artillery apart in seconds. Smoke and ash filled the air as the streets were set ablaze. The artillery’s ammunition dumps exploded as one of the beams lanced through them and into the earth beneath turning the scene into an all-consuming fireball. The vessel slowed its advance and hovered over what remained of its targets. The fourth and final remaining carrier, the Daedalus, passed the Praetorian and left the city limits. The reinforcement convoys heading into Warsaw were thrown into disarray by the view ahead of them. Their high command was destroyed, all hierarchy had been destroyed and no new orders were forthcoming. Some vehicles continued to head into the city, some stooped, some tried to retreat. The roads were turned into a tangled mess of men and vehicles, all moving in different directions. The Daedalus opened fire as it moved. The beams tore into the earth along the roads, incinerating the confused rearguard. No one was spared. The fields outside the city were turned into great rows of shattered ground as though ploughed by a god. The sweeping forest and grassland fires turned the green belt of the city into a blasted hell scape Molten rock glowed orange through the smoke, turning the verdant farmland into a volcanic wilderness. The carrier continued on out of the city, punching deep into USIA territory, slaying all in its path and driving a bow wave of terrified survivors before it.

The city burnt. The invincible might of the Virtue carriers dominated the sky and sent the imperial army fleeing in disarray before their devastating weaponry. Aircraft strafed the survivors with bombs, missiles and machine-gun fire. The Asian soldiers on the confederacy-held bank of the Vistula River were cut off, unable to cross the seething water with the bridges destroyed and the landing craft aflame. The rest of the army fled out of the city, there to be rounded up and eliminated by the Praetorian. The carriers ceased their fire and left the survivors to their fate as the drop ships began to land. Thousands of EDC storm troopers landed amidst the ruins of the shattered city and gave chase. Disciplined volleys of assault rifle fire cut down the scattered remnants of the USIA vanguard, cornered against the banks of the river. Within the hour the western half of the city was returned to confederacy control. The Praetorian ceased its own bombardment as the drop ships crossed the river. The last of the USIA horde cowered in the suburbs, pinned down by the shadow of the terrible engine of destruction floating above them and barely unable to defend themselves as the storm troopers launched their final assault. The streets were cleared by their fast attack vehicles, the enemy bolting from cover like frightened deer only to be cut down with heavy machine-guns and wheels alike. With ruthless efficiency, the storm troopers themselves moved in. They tracked the imperials down in the houses in which they hid using thermal imaging, broke in and slaughtered the last of them. They offered no mercy, no ear for parley. Surrender requests were met with the same lethal force offered to those that tried to defend themselves.

***

Sergeant Menan kicked down the door to one of the shattered suburban houses. His drop ship hovered in the street behind him and his squad formed up either side of the door. Their night vision filters on their visors were in place, illuminating the building with a faint green light as they entered. The ten troopers entered the kitchen of the house in relative silence, Menan signalling for them to form up behind him. The beams of light from the torches on their rifles flashed around the room as they searched for any immediate threat. The kitchen was largely intact and seemed like it had been abandoned for some time. The door to the larder was opened, and appeared to have been forced open. Empty food packets littered the floor inside. The sergeant dismissed the information and crept up the stairs. The upper floor of the house was silent and empty. The team moved onwards into the attic, their thermal sensors detecting two heat signatures by the far wall. Menan nodded to his second in command, who relayed the order to hold position.

The sergeant loaded his rifle, breathed deeply and stepped up the last staircase, turning his rifle on the two heat signatures. The spotlight shone on a ragged USIA officer. Part of his face was burnt off and he had been blinded in one eye. White bone glinted through the strips of skin covering his jaw. His chest, right arm and right leg were bleeding and studded with shrapnel, most of his right thigh muscle having been torn away by an explosion. In his left hand he held an ornate revolver, which he was pointing at the head of a small child. The girl seemed no older than five. She was knelt in front of him, tears staining her young face. Her dress was torn, as was her long, dark hair. Otherwise, she seemed unharmed.

The Asian officer shouted in Chinese at Menan, trying to twist his right hand in a gesture of parley while pushing the revolver into the back of the girl’s head at the same time. The sergeant levelled his rifle at the enemy officer and shouted back to him in English.

“I am Sergeant Pierre Menan of the EDC storm trooper corps, squad T608. Lay down your weapon and surrender.” The man shook his head and pointed at his ear. “Lay down your weapon. That is an order. Lay down your weapon or I will open fire.” Tears began to run down his face from his shattered right tear duct. He pushed a bullet into the firing chamber on his revolver. The sergeant squeezed the trigger on his rifle once. The magnetised barrel of the weapon fired a single round out of the muzzle in a fraction of a second. The shot hit the imperial officer between his mutilated eyes, punched directly into the centre of his fore brain and killed him instantly. He dropped without a sound, his weapon crashing to the floor. The sergeant lowered his weapon and sprinted over to the girl as the rest of his squad entered the attic. His hand rested on the girl’s shoulder and her face turned upwards to stare into his eyes. “Are you hurt?” She shook her head. “I’m a friend. The war is over; we need to get you to a safe place. Come with me.”

She stood up and tugged on Pierre’s arm as he turned to leave. “Where is Sergeant Jan Taylor?”

The sergeant frowned at her, puzzled. “He’s being escorted to the field headquarters, his team saved the city but I don’t understand. How do you know him?”

The girl ran over to the side of the room and picked up a stuffed bear. “He’s our friend. We want to see him.” The sergeant smiled, nodded, and led her out of the house.

***

Gale force winds lashed at the sides of the tower. The reinforced structure swayed slightly under the assault but the glass and stone held firm. Far above the city floor, between the renaissance-style windows a small black shape clung to the wall. The wind tore at the edges of the shape, sending flaps of cloth and leather billowing out through the air but unable to shake it free of the side of the palace. 101 leant back against the stone surface, the tiny hooks on her gloves and boots anchoring her in place as she waited. She breathed deeply, preparing herself in silence. The city below was a shattered ruin, torn asunder by the ravages of war and still engulfed in the flames of that war's abrupt end. The USIA presence had been destroyed or driven away and the Europeans were regrouping. All eyes were turned away from the top of the confederacy's headquarters. The assassin detached her right hand from the wall and slowly moved it down to touch the wall between her legs, wary of making a fatal mistake and losing her grip completely. She clenched her fist and fired the grappling hook from her bracer into the stone arch above the window beneath her. The piton cable anchored itself in the rock. 101 tugged on the cord, making sure that it was in place, then took another deep breath. Without looking down, she kicked off from the wall, sending herself flying into the void. She somersaulted in mid-air, flipping around to face the wall again and brought her boots crashing through the window below her. She rolled through the breach, drew both pistols from their holsters and rose to a sprint.

The corridor was uninhabited, but a lone guard stuck his head around the corner to investigate as the sound of the shattered window reached him. The Pariah fired a single shot on the run, hitting the man in the right eye and felling him without a sound. She rounded the corner as a second guard gave a shout and ran to check on his slain comrade, who received a swift strike to his windpipe with the butt of one of her pistols. His neck snapped and his throat collapsed, leaving him choking to death on the floor. No alarms had yet been sounded. 101 continued to run through the corridors, the map of the tower and the location of her target imprinted on her memory. Within just a few minutes she had found her way to the diplomatic suites. She broke the door down with one kick and leapt into the next passageway, pointing her weapons right and left along the felt-lined corridor as she landed. A squad of grenadiers to her right shouted at her and charged forward, opening fire with their carbines as they did so. The Pariah never faltered, calmly dispatching each of them with identical head shots

Reloading her pistols, she worked her way along the passage, kicking down each door that she came to. Empty room after empty room rolled past as her frustration mounted. The fifth door from her entrance point was locked and barricaded, but still required little effort to enter. Inside, cowering in a corner next to a four poster bed were a man and a woman, both in their late forties. They were both terrified, both exhausted and both very naked. The sheets on the bed were unkept and the assassin smiled as she worked out what the fire fight outside must have caught them doing. The man didn't match her description of the environment minister, so she turned to leave. Just before she walked back through the door she stopped and thought for a second. She turned back to the pair and grinned under her hood. She pulled a small square pad from her belt, about the size of her hand, and looked down at it.

"Sex, drugs and rock and roll. You've got the sex, I've got the drugs and setting fire to things is always fun." She pressed a button on the side of the pad and threw it towards the two wretched figures on the floor, then turned and left the room, closing the door behind her. Inside the room the pad opened, venting great clouds of noxious green fumes around itself. The room's occupants didn't move. The pad gave a small click, then the vapour ignited, gutting the room with flame in seconds. 101 strode away down the hall, smiling to herself as their piercing screams echoed through the deserted corridor.

***

Drop ship T811 touched down in the courtyard in front of the Palace of Culture and Science with a slight jolt. The other two Tyrus drop ships hovered over T811 as her charges disembarked, then rotated their thrusters and soared back into the sky, heading for their mother ship. The Tyrus itself had stopped firing with the destruction of the USIA army and now hovered over the palace, its drop ships returning to their docks. Jan, Sascha, Eidur, Mikail, Lukas and Gav all stepped out of the aircraft, saluting to Inneas and his squad before it too lifted off to join its sister craft. The courtyard and the palace themselves were mostly undamaged, the front line of the imperial advance having come to rest at the outer kilometre perimeter before the carriers had made their move. The courtyard was marred in places by the scars of artillery bombardment and some of the tower’s masonry had broken lose but otherwise the EDC field HQ was intact. As the six remaining members of C084 walked towards the main entrance into the building and the fiery wash of the drop ships’ engines faded away, the front doors opened and a line of thirty EDC grenadiers stepped out into the courtyard. Their leader strode across the open space to stand in front of Jan. The two soldiers saluted. Jan’s heavy armour dwarfed the older man, but neither of them were wearing their helmets, Jan having lost his in the fall from the Charon. The grenadier smiled and addressed the storm trooper squad.

“Captain Louis D’Arras, EDC House Grenadiers, assigned to the protection of the sector governance of Poland. It is an honour, Sergeant Taylor. Word has already spread throughout the ranks of your team’s actions and the governor is most anxious to meet you, as is General Anderson. We are to escort you all to the war room in the upper reaches of the tower. If you would please follow?”

Jan nodded. “Thank you, Captain.” The grenadiers formed up around C084, enclosing them in a square of uniformed bodies. The group marched inside the door, with Captain D’Arras at their head, and entered a large cage elevator in the foyer. As the lift transported them upwards, Jan looked around at his comrades. Sascha grinned at him and slapped his armoured shoulder. Gav and the Tomasson brothers were discussing the day’s antics between themselves, laughing and shaking hands, all previous hostilities forgotten. Lukas was stood alone, amusing himself by tapping the grenadier in front of him on the shoulder, then feigning ignorance when the soldier looked round. The elevator finally ground to a halt and the front panel slid away.

The war room was built from stone and dark metal, the walls coated with giant plasma screens showing footage from all over the city. In the centre of the room stood a large table, the top surface of which projected a hologram of the city in green. The hologram was dotted with blue and red specks, the red strongly in the minority and diminishing rapidly. The holograms of the three carriers showed up in blue, floating over the city, which were then joined by a fourth as the Daedalus returned within scanning range. The highest ranked politicians of the polish sector and the top brass of the EDC army deployed to the eastern front walked around the room, coordinating their surviving troopers or liaising with the storm trooper commanders and with the senior military figures in Paris. The officers all wore broad smiles across their faces. They shook each others hands warmly, laughed and congratulated one another. As the elevator crashed open, the room's occupants turned towards the grenadiers. Captain D'Arras saluted and motioned for his men to part, revealing the six storm troopers The politicians and officers caught sight of C084 and their smiles widened, the room bursting into thunderous applause and cheers. Jan and the others strode into the crowd. The officials slapped the troopers on the shoulders and shook their hands, snatches of congratulations and questions drifting amidst the noise before the team was dragged away to talk to yet more dignitaries Finally the crowd parted to reveal the head of the EDC army on the eastern front, General Jacob Anderson. The General smiled and raised his hand for silence. The crowd quietened and gathered behind the storm troopers

"The heroes return. Our most sincere congratulations are in order for all of you, for as you may well know you are the saviours of this city and perhaps even the confederacy itself. Your bravery and skill has defeated the imperial aggressors, for which this union thanks you. You are to be rewarded in rank for your efforts and I do apologise for the lack of a formal ceremony, but you know how it is. Wartime has no time for such pleasantries." He took a small cloth case from his belt and strode over to the sergeant. "Congratulations, Lieutenant Jan Taylor." He tore the chevrons from Jan's shoulder and replaced them with a gold stripe. He turned to the rest of the team. "Congratulations, Master Sergeant Sascha Ramirez, Sergeant Gavin Jones, Sergeant Lukas Fritz, Sergeant Eidur Tomasson and Sergeant Mikail Tomasson." Beaming smiles lit up the team's faces as the General amended their rank insignia. The crowd cheered again and General Anderson laughed as the whooping applause returned. He motioned for silence once again, but none was forthcoming. The cheering was replaced by the wail of sirens as the room was cast into red light. The screens switched to internal footage and alert warnings as the tower's alarm systems activated. A hooded black figure appeared on the monitors, stalking its way through the upper levels of the palace. The General turned to the congregation and began to issue evacuation orders as the grenadiers mobilised. With the officers distracted, Jan turned to the rest of the squad. Smiles were replaced by grim looks of determination as the order was passed wordlessly between each of them. The six storm troopers loaded their weapons and ran to the elevator.

[Lemartes]

Good One man, love the re integration of the little girl with the teddy bear, nice touch.

[Jinxie]

ohmyohmy!

i dont fancy Jan's chances against Sarah! Next bit shall be serious win! :D

[Lemartes]

Yeah I think they're gona have some problems, but I can't see Imp killing off one of his main characters this early in the story, so we shall see what happens.

[Imperial Dragon]

:D

[Jinxie]

Can we try aim for posting dates not on tuesdays mister?!
:D

I get what Lem is saying, so whats going to happen?
Plus, is the black hooded figure Sarah?

Your story is messing with my head,
keep up the good writing Imp-Meister!

[Imperial Dragon]

So then, here we go. The end of chapter 10. Jan vs 101. Enjoy!





***

101 became more irritated as she prowled the diplomatic suites. She knew that the minister was somewhere on that floor and with the exits sealed there was no way for him to escape without her knowledge. Slowly she prowled between the rows of doors like a predatory cat, listening at each one, breaking the door in and investigating the room's contents. Her search gained a new fervour as she felt the confederate net closing in around her. Finally, she reached a door through which she could hear the sound of the gales that battered the outside of the tower. The door caved in under her boot and she stepped inside. The room had been trashed. A hastily packed suitcase lay on the bed beside scattered note paper and books. Tables had been turned over and a shattered chair lay next to the remains of the door. The arched window at the side of the room was open. On the window ledge stood minster Sobczak, his eyes wide with terror and tears running down his face onto his crumpled suit. He jabbed a plump finger at the assassin as she entered his room.

"You! I know why you're here. I know why the Americans sent you and what they want you to take back but I won't talk. You'll get nothing out of me, you scum, I'll take my secrets to the grave before I tell you anything. One more step and I jump, then you'll have nothing to take back to your deranged masters."

The Pariah laughed quietly under her breath. "Now, there's a problem with your little monologue there. I'm actually here to kill you, so you wobbling up there threatening suicide isn't too scary. Now that we've cleared that up, be my guest, mister Sobczak." She levelled her pistol at him and fired a single round into his right knee. The man howled in pain as his leg gave way, sending him tumbling into the abyss. 101 wandered over to the window as his screams faded away, took a quick look down from the precipice, then closed the window and turned to leave. She closed the door to the room behind her as she stepped back into the corridor. Her surroundings turned deathly silent, then the silence was shattered by the west staircase door coming crashing down. Her head snapped round as the passageways were filled with shouted orders, rank after rank of grenadiers filing into the open spaces. She backed away from the sound and turned to run towards the eastern stairwell. She took two steps backwards and another crashing sound rang through the empty hallways as the other stairwell door was broken down. 101 stood stock still in the corridor with her eyes closed, listening as the halls echoed with the arrival of her enemies. Her head cocked to one side and a smile twisted across her face. "Well, all work and no play, and all that." She slowly drew the longsword from the scabbard at her waist and walked towards the western passage.

As she rounded the corner the familiar red patterns of the corridors was met with a flash of deep blue. The grenadiers stopped their advance and formed a barricade, blocking the corridor off with a wall of gleaming rifles. 101 stopped at the end of the hall and turned to face them, the light catching the edge of the thin blade in her hand. The man at the front of the group loaded his rifle, the rest of the squads following suit with a harsh clacking sound. He shouted an order towards her in a language that she didn't understand. Her silver eyes snapped open and her smile widened. With a bounding leap of more strength than her slight form implied she sped down the hall towards the ranks of guards. Their leader started at how quickly she moved and opened fire. As the bullets lanced towards the assassin she stepped to her left, then leapt towards the right hand wall as she ran, never missing a step or slowing. She planted both feet on the wall, then kicked off again and mirrored the movement on the other wall, wayward shots flashing around her. With one final jump she dived towards the grenadier sergeant. His mouth dropped open as he looked up at her, fear and realisation creeping into his eyes. The sword slashed into his throat with shocking force, severing his head in one strike. The rest of the guards were sent into disarray, trying to aim at the lightning fast flash of black cloth and back away at the same time.

She rolled to her feet and lashed out with the weapon again. She cut upwards, slicing a man's arm free at the elbow and embedding her sword in the head of the soldier next to him. Both men fell, one screaming in agony, the other deathly silent. The formation began to break apart as 101 tore through them. She rose back to her feet, flicked the blade around in her hand and slashed another grenadier to the floor. A bullet whipped into her face as she rose the sword again, blowing part of her right cheek away and knocking her backwards. Her hand instinctively clutched at the wound, blood flowing freely between her pale fingers. The grenadier that had shot her fired again, sending three more bullets lashing into her chest. She staggered backwards again and dropped her sword. Her arms dropped to her sides and her breath came in short gasps. The holes in her corset leaked blood, the bright red fluid soaking into the red carpet. The surviving guards stopped retreating and lowered their weapons, staring at the broken figure in front of them. Before they could raise their defences again, 101 flicked her right hand away from her face, snatched the carbine from her back and swept it across the corridor. A hail of bullets snapped through the air at head height, shattering skulls and helmets, leaving the rest of the guards slaughtered on the floor. She replaced the rifle in its holster on her back and bent to pick up her sword, wincing as her punctured internal organs reformed. She wiped the blood from her cheek as the skin under her hand knitted back together, removing any blemish from her face. The assassin strode towards the broken western door and ran down the staircase.

***

The palace was thrown into disarray. Live feeds into C084's helmets from the command centre's camera relay showed the massacre in the diplomatic suites and their sensors tracked the rogue warrior as he or she proceeded down the stairwells, through squad after squad of guards as it made its way towards the bowels of the tower. The lift shaft deposited Jan and the squad in the ground floor foyer of the palace, which was as yet untouched by the assassin's presence. The grenadiers milled around randomly in the empty chamber, a mess of shouted instructions fusing in the air into one indistinct noise. Jan swore and stepped away from the lift, the others forming out behind him. He tore a comms unit from Eidur's back and activated the loudspeaker.

"Lieutenant Taylor, Storm trooper Corps. Silence." The room gradually quietened as the army troops turned to the armoured giant by the elevator. "The target does not leave the building. Seal off every exit on this floor. I want a wall of men in front of every exit. Move out." He gave the comm link back to Eidur and breathed deeply as the floor was once again turned into a hive of activity. His lips twisted into a wry smile as he looked back to his squad. "Man, that felt good" he laughed. "Right, command has sealed all the windows so whoever this is can't escape that way, but they'll know that by now. That leaves only the ground floor exits, which we're sealing now, so when they get down here we can cut them off. Either they try and break through directly like they did on the suite level, which'll kill them, or they try and make it down into the basement and get out somehow through there. If they do go down, we hunt them. Got it?" They nodded and loaded their weapons.

The grenadiers readied themselves and the foyer drifted into silence. C084 stood at the centre of the guards' ranks in front of the main entrance, directly in front of the staircase's exit. The tension continued for what seemed like eternity, each minute of suspense and awaiting the inevitable passing with the speed of a year. Eventually, the hammer of footsteps on the stone steps became audible. Every weapon in the foyer was readied. The infamous black shape dropped through the hole at the foot of the staircase and rolled to its feet. The woman stopped, scanning the wall of rifles that faced her. She straightened and slowly raised her hands above her head. Jan stood from the ranks and lowered his rifle. Her head snapped round as she saw him and her tiny white teeth glistened as she grinned. Her left hand dropped to her side, she saluted with her right hand, then turned and sped back into the stairwell as she headed for the basement levels. Every weapon in the foyer fired at her shadow. succeeding in little more than breaking some masonry away from around the archway. Jan swore and ran after her, followed by the rest of his team as the grenadiers ceased their fire. As he ran, he waved a hand back at the guards to order them to stay put.

One by one, the storm troopers descended into the dusty tunnels below the palace. The darkness closed in around them. The torch beams from their rifles and the lights on their visors cast scattered patterns of light into the shadowy recessed of the stone passageways. The lights glinted from cobwebs and moist rock, their footfalls accompanied by the steady dripping of water from cracks in the walls. Every hundred yards or so the chambers were illuminated by a weak strip light on the ceiling, surrounded by the multitude of power cables running from the generator that powered the building above. The six soldiers slowly crept forwards, sending rats and spiders scurrying away from their glaring spotlights. Every step sent fresh rushes of adrenaline through their bodies, searching for an invisible enemy with the ability to kill any of them without a second thought. They filed onwards into the darkness.

***

101 slowly crept through the tangle of cables on the ceiling of the tunnel, each movement made in complete silence. Below her the European storm troopers blundered around in the dark like the blind rats that they drove before them. She held her matched short swords in each hand, her fingers grabbing the thick bundles of wires. The confederates were slowly approaching the next light fitting, by which time she would have to make her move to avoid premature detection. She remained concealed in the shadows until she felt that the time was right, then slid out of the cabling like a snake from a rainforest tree, dropping almost silently to the floor below. One of the soldiers heard her fall and turned back to face her, letting out a shout as her right sword sliced through the barrel of his assault rifle. She swung again at his head, but the blow glanced off his helmet, knocking him back rather than killing him. Bullets lashed towards her again, but she danced into the shadows slipping into darkness once again.

The crackling blue energy from her weapons sparked back into life as she dived into the light once more. The troopers fell back in disarray before the onslaught, barely avoiding the flurry of blows. The man with the broken rifle lunged at her, grabbing her wrists and forcing her backwards under the sheer force of his weight. The assassin twisted her body back, raised her right leg and connected her boot with his chest. The force of the blow sent him flying down the passage, slipping into the black void beyond the next light. The remaining five slowly backed away as one, firing precise volleys towards her as she sheathed her blades and charged. She evaded the storm of fire, flitting between the shadows with an almost ethereal grace. A round caught her in the arm but she flowed with the impact, spinning around and leaping forward once again. She drove her fist into the face of the first man she came to, breaking through his visor and into his skull, sending the giant crashing to the floor, unconscious, in a shower of blood. Two of the troopers continued to fall back, while the other two stood together and emptied their weapons towards her. She ran up the wall, onto the ceiling and down on top of them, slamming their heads together and felling them both with one strike.

The corridor was suddenly empty. She slowed to a halt as she searched for those soldiers that she knew were still standing. Her reflexes were triggered and she dived backwards, a premonition alerting her to the two swinging rifle butts that lashed through the space that had occupied her head only seconds before. On the back foot now, she retreated as the squad leader and another trooper threw themselves towards her, knives flashing in the light from their visors. The warrior with the blades on her forearms charged again. 101 caught both her hands as the first trooper had done to her, span under her guard and kicked the woman upwards towards the ceiling. She hit the mass of cables and fell back towards the Pariah. 101 drew her sword and stabbed it upwards into the woman's stomach. She gave a short scream, then fell limp as she hit the floor. The assassin pulled her blade free and rounded on the last man standing.

***

Jan's mouth dropped open with shock as the woman drove her blade home into Sascha's stomach. The stunned silence was replaced by a burning rage as she turned towards him. He swung his rifle towards her like a hammer but to no avail as he was left to watch helplessly as she stepped out of the way of his blow. His rifle cracked against the wall and slipped out of his grip. Before he could turn his head back to his assailant or draw another weapon the pommel of her sword cracked into the side of his unprotected head, knocking him to the floor, dazed. He rolled onto his back and pulled out his side arm as she stood over him, smiling like a child at play.

"The hero of Warsaw at my feet, his friends dead around him. Where is your strength and pride now? Hm?" A cold laugh crept into the woman's tone.

His fury returned, stronger than ever. He fired a single high-explosive round towards her head, but she simply stepped back out of the way, leaving the shell to explode harmlessly on the ceiling. The bullet hit one of the primary cables running along the length of the corridor, the explosion severing the central coupling and releasing a live wire from its mounting. A cascade of sparks leapt from the end of the severed cable as it fell. The live end of the cable swung down from the ceiling and struck the assassin at the base of her skull, delivering an immense electrical charge straight into her brain and spinal cord. The chamber lit up with a storm of blue light as the energy coursed through the room and through her body, accompanied by a wailing scream as it electrocuted her. The smell of smoke and burnt flesh, as well as the tang of vaporised metal filled the chamber, the electricity lifting the skin from her body and setting her clothing alight, tiny bolts of energy dancing across her upturned face.

***

White-hot pain flooded her body, convulsing as the energy tore her apart. The years of her life lifted gently away, the drug-induced shrouds that covered her past dispersed to reveal her soul. Everything that made her who she was could be seen for a fleeting second before her mind slipped deeper into destruction. She could see friends, childhoods, happier times before her life became dominated by death. At the same time she felt the fire and the pain of what she had become, and she felt her eyes well up with tears. For the first time in her entire life she knew who she was, what she had been, what she could be. Her shattered brain felt clear, unfazed by drugs or therapy, just leaving her free to exist, free to live for the few seconds that remained to her. Her body was shutting down, piece by piece. Death reached out to claim her as the light faded away and she slumped to the floor.

***

The cable slipped away into the shadows as the warrior collapsed, her broken frame almost pitiful as she lay in a poll of her own blood and molten flesh. Her robes had mostly disintegrated, revealing the remains of a metal cord running down the length of her back. The metal made been melted free of her skin, though it still brunt into her in places. At the top of the cord, where it met with her skull, molten metal was dripping out onto the floor between the remains of her silver hair. On the floor beside her lay a smashed hexagonal box, silver liquid flowing from it to mix with the liquid metal.

***

Darkness.





:D

[Lemartes]

Wow. Didn't see that coming, was expecting either her to be captured, or for C084 to all become incapasitated and her to escape.

[ajrk32]

AJRK32 says:

what in the HEWLLL

That is some Damn good writing my amigo!

But 101 isn't dead!

Is she?

[lefthandedyeti]

And here I was thinking Teddy-Girl was gonna save him...

[Jinxie]

om!om!
amazing!

*sits wide eyed and impatient for the next instalment*

Sorry i wasnt up for texting last night

[Imperial Dragon]

Next section up, pushing on with the main section of the story now that Warsaw's safe. Over 100 posts, over 1000 views which is absolutely fantastic. Honestly, I'm ecstatic with how well this has been recieved. Thankyou all so much for all your support and please keep reading! Enjoy!




PARIAH

Chapter Eleven - Rebirth

EDC Carrier Tyrus, Above Warsaw, Poland, EDC

Jan stood over the treatment bed on the ship's medical bridge, his arms folded across his chest. He still wore his combat armour, the golden strips on his shoulders denoting his new rank. His blonde hair flowed over a black headband, holding a series of small bandages over the wound on the side of his head where the assassin had struck him beneath the palace. The pristine white room hummed gently with the action of computers and machinery. Medics in white lab coats bustled around behind him, carrying test samples and IV treatment drips to and from the bed. Computer screens flashed and whirred on the side panels of the room and the pale green strip lights cast a sickly glow on its occupants. His surroundings faded into insignificance as Jan watched the figure laid before him. Covered by white linen sheets with wires and tubes running under her skin, Sascha lay deathly still on the bed. Her long dark hair was combed through and lay neatly beneath her head on the pearl white pillow. Her tanned skin was beginning to pale and her eyes flitted restlessly beneath the thin membrane of her eyelids. The familiar red colour was drained from her cheeks and her breathing was shallow. Beneath the sheets her stomach and chest were covered in linen bandages, stained red as her lifeblood leaked out between the stitches.

The lieutenant turned away from the body and sighed to himself. The doctors continued to monitor her and administer treatment, painkillers pumped directly into her blood. He clenched his jaw tightly, his eyes darkening as a wash of sadness and anger ran over his mind. One of the medics rested his hand gently on Jan's armoured shoulder, the soldier turning to face the much smaller man. The medic nodded. Jan returned the gesture and turned to leave the room. As he slid back the door panel in the corner of the chamber, he back to the doctor.

"Is she..."

The man sighed and shook his head slowly. Jan turned away and sealed the door behind him. The shadows in the corridor outside only served to heighten his desperation and sorrow, the sounds inside the surgical chamber fading away to silence. On the metal bench that ran along the wall of the corridor sat another storm trooper, gold chevrons running down the plaques on his shoulder guards. Lukas looked up towards his commanding officer and stood as Jan walked over to him. His battle-hardened face seemed the same as ever, a thin white band crossing his freshly broken nose. He ran a hand through his short black hair and smiled grimly at the other soldier. The two men shook hands, no weaponry strapped to their armour for the first time in many days. The sniper was the first to speak.

"How is she?"

Jan sighed again and looked the sergeant in the eyes. "Not good. I don't know how much longer they can keep her stable." He dropped his gaze to the floor, then pushed past Fritz and began to walk away along the corridor.

The German trooper turned around and raised his voice. "Where you going?"

Jan didn't turn, carrying on away from the bed that held his best friend's dying form. "To see our new friend."

***

She woke with a start. Her wrists and ankles were bound to a metal chair, itself bolted to the floor. The room she found herself in was completely comprised from the same cold steel and empty of any other items, a spotlight on the ceiling casting its baleful glow on the back of her neck. A large glass panel covered the wall in front of her, the room on the other side of it sealed in shadow. She was dressed in a white cotton robe and most of her skin was covered with bandages. Her silver hair slid lazily over her eyes. Her mind was still dazed, so she sat motionless on the chair, concentrating only on drawing her next breath. Impulses flitted drunkenly between the neurones in her brain, slowly trying to comprehend the situation that she now found herself in. She felt dizzy and sick as she flexed her arms, steadily regaining motor function. Every inch of her body ached, a searing pain emanating from her spine. The bandages itched, a gentle tingling sensation emerging from beneath them. As her body awoke, scattered memories began to filter back into her head.

She had been burnt. Something had hit her in the back and electrocuted her, burning through her mind and body. Why had that happened? What was she doing near broken power cables? She had been hunting someone, with weapons. She had been armed and prepared to kill. What kind of a person was she? She was a killer. She had come to this place to kill a man. Had she killed him? Why did she need to? Yes, he was dead. He fell from a window. He fell because she shot him. She had killed a man in cold blood. Where did she get the weapons? She was a trained killer, sent by someone else to destroy lives on their behalf. Who was this person? A warrior, a madman obsessed with victory and glory. He was her master. She killed to make him happy. What kind of person kills to make another man happy? Was she evil? Was she in love? Was she insane too? She was an assassin. Her commanders gave her something more than guns and swords to make her a better killer. They filled her blood with drugs and stole her memories while she slept. They took her life away and turned her into nothing more than a weapon. She could remember the feeling that the drugs gave her, even the weaker ones used in the conditioning but that feeling was gone. They had gone. Everything had gone. She was alone. She began to weep softly to herself.

The door behind the glass window opened and an armoured figure stepped into the dark room. He sealed the door behind him and turned on the room’s lights, the beams hitting his prisoner in the face. She recoiled as if shot, her recently recovered eyes adjusting to the glare. The man was clothed in heavy dark blue battle armour, but was unarmed. He wore no helmet on his head, leaving his blonde hair free to hang just above his shoulders. The right side of his head was covered by a black strap, holding a series of bandages in place. He crossed his hands behind his back and observed the fragile shell of a woman that sat on the other side of the glass. She turned her face upwards and stared back at him. The two watched each other in silence for several minutes, neither one moving. Eventually the soldier broke the deadlock and opened his mouth to speak.

“Who are you?”

The woman dropped her chin back to her chest, sighed, then cocked her head to one side. “I don’t know.”

“Tell me your name.” The man replied, his voice calm and steady.

Her vision flashed white for a second and her breath caught in her throat as her questioner grew in size. A terrible dark shadow grew out of him. His armour turned black and his face was covered by a black metal grill, like the helmet of a medieval knight. Black and silver robes covered his massive frame. Rings of weapons were strapped to his forearms, a massive sword hung at his side and his cloak swept along the floor in an ethereal breeze.

The figure spoke, his voice cold and dangerous. “Tell me your name, my apprentice.” She screamed as he reached out towards her through the glass, her body shaking in terror as the shadow came for her. “Tell me what I have made you.” She continued to scream as the white light returned and the shadow disappeared, the room returning to its previous state. The soldier remained motionless.

“You’re hallucinating. You were electrocuted, which should by rights have killed you and I would guess from our medic’s analysis of you that your blood is clean of narcotics for the first time in a long time.” She slowly calmed down but her breathed remained laboured and her eyes stayed wide open. “Now, I need you to tell me your name.”

“I don’t have a name.”

“Everyone has a name.”

“I don’t. I have a number.”

“And what is your number?”

She squinted as she remembered, her shattered brain repairing the fragments of her past. “101. They called me 101.”

The soldier nodded. “Who are ‘they’?”

She shook her head slowly, cursing under her breath. “I don’t remember. They took me, they turned me into this. They made me forget. I don’t know who I was.”

The room flashed again and was filled with the sound of machinery and hissing pneumatics. Thin mechanical arms descended from the ceiling all around her, holding her down. She struggled against them, screaming and sobbing, crying out to the man behind the glass for help.

His face twisted into an insane grin and he began to laugh. “We’re going to make you forget, child. This is going to hurt.” She snapped her head round to see a series of arms sliding into place behind her, holding syringes and a metal spinal cord. Hysterical, she let out a terrified cry of anguish as the needles punctured her skin. The light returned and the machines disappeared, the man’s face returning to normal.

“Don’t be afraid. They can’t hurt you here. None of what you’re seeing is real, just me.”

She sniffed, biting back the tears. “Why are you doing this? I tried to kill you. I stabbed your friend. Why don’t you want me dead?”

The man’s tilted his head back and let out a deep breath. “I did.” His piercing blue eyes turned back to her. “Why did you kill minister Sobczak? Were you sent here to do it, or was this your own idea?”

“They sent me. I killed to make him happy.”

“Who is ‘he’? I’m guessing you don’t remember that either?”

She shook her head.

“Do you remember what it was that they injected you with? We found some kind of narcotic combat stimulant in your blood, a drug, but no one could identify it. What was it called?”

She shook her head again. “I remember everything turning black and white and grey, but I could see people living, I could see blood.”

“You could see heat?”

“Yes.” She let out another scream and clutched at the sides of her head, agony racking her brain. The chair shook beneath her superhuman strength as she rocked backwards and forwards, shrieking until the pain subsided. She looked back up towards the window, tears dripping from her angled chin onto the metal floor. The European soldier remained motionless, watching her anguish impassionately. She leant forward in her chair and composed herself. "They've gone. Their poisons inside my body were their hold over me and for reasons I do not yet understand these poisons have left me. I'm gradually regaining control of my own mind, able to make my own decisions for the first time for what feels like a long time. I can be more than what they made me. Help me. Please." The man tilted his head back, looking down his nose at the prisoner. He let out a deep breath without opening his mouth, then turned and left the room, plunging the cell back into darkness.

[Jinxie]

It would be really awesome if they fell in love :smt008

But thats the mushy female side of me talking!

Keep up the good work, can't wait for the next bit!

[Lemartes]

Good thing I decided to check today, the forum hadn't sent me atopic reply notification...

Good work, not as exciting as previous chapters, but I'm guessing it's build up to more exciting events.

[Jinxie]

I'm guessing it's build up to more exciting events.


Indeed!
Get posting these events Imp!

Is Monday a possible posting date for the next section?
I know you're busy tomorrow :)
you best be ready for tree climbing boy!

[Imperial Dragon]

Monday/Tuesday I believe, im afraid. may well have much work to do monday and tonight ima sliiiightly drunk.

[Imperial Dragon]

Next update, the second and final half of chapter 11. This one's a pretty short chapter and will kinda flow into 12, so hopefully I'll have the next part up soon. I'm not as happy with this bit as i have been with the others, just like chapter 3, but it's filler material that has to be put in for the rest to work so bear with me! :D enjoy!




***

For the next few days Jan spent his time between the medical wing and the assassin's cell. As the hours rolled by Sascha's condition worsened and 101's improved. He found himself gradually spending more time with the captive, sitting with her behind the glass partition as she came to terms with her new life. The early stages of the detox were painful to watch, her cravings tearing her apart but with time she became more coherent Her shocking silver eyes became more profound as the terror and delirium faded and Jan began to notice just how beautiful she really was. A shattered, fragile, cold beauty but a powerful one none the less. Her speech lost its initial grating slur and stutter as she became more lucid, her honeyed tones conveying a hidden intellect that surpassed the murderous actions that had brought her there. Her memory was still in fragments but she was able to talk freely with Jan, treating him more as a companion than a guard or interrogator. Her attitude surprised him. This woman who had possibly killed Sascha and who had murdered countless others in cold blood was a mere façade Beneath the robes hid nothing more than a frightened girl, her heart filled with remorse and shame at the crimes that she had committed, though at the same time she was strong enough to be aware that with time more of her atrocities would return to her memories. She was becoming reborn. No longer an assassin, no longer whatever it was that she had been before, becoming something new.

All the while Sascha lay prone in the medical wing, her shattered frame deteriorating slowly. The doctors had managed to repair the ruptured blood vessels above her waist but the damage to her internal organs was proving irreparable. Her blood cycled through a bypass system, translucent streams of nutrients flowing into the blood and keeping what remained of her alive. Jan would spend hours at a time by her bedside, holding her pale hand gently. Her eyes remained motionless between her thin lids. Her collapsed lungs remained still, her whole body laying completely inactive beneath the linen sheets. The doctors could do little more than keep her body functioning and hope that her own defences and nanomachines could finish the healing process. Jan could only watch helplessly as his best friend slowly drifted further away into oblivion before his eyes. His heart was racked with a mixture of misery, vengeance and a strange sense of belonging.

By the second week the assassin was unshackled and allowed to roam her cell. The lieutenant remained behind the glass barrier, not yet trusting her quite enough to allow them to be in the same room. He had been ordered to report back to the Tyrus' war council on the carrier's bridge at the end of the day and with images of Sascha's impending demise fresh in his mind he entered the cell viewing area. 101 walked over to the window as he pulled his chair closer. He sat down and let his head slip forward, his forehead touching the glass. His eyes slid upwards to stare forwards as a faint knocking sound reached his through the window, the assassin's head mirroring his movements. The two warriors remained motionless, time creeping around them like the flow of a frozen river.

"Sascha is dying." Jan was the first to break the silence.

The silver haired woman remained still for several seconds before replying. "Do you hate me?"

"I should. I want to. I want to blame you for everything and kill you for her but I can't."

"Why?"

Jan stared into her eyes. "Because it wasn't you, it was this 101. You're free. I'm creating a new life here and I can't bring myself to destroy it for the crimes of a past life."

"No, that's not it." She stopped, raised her head and studied him carefully. "I have no past and no future. You have both. You're empathising with me, but I don't understand why."

The storm trooper stood and turned towards the door. He didn't look back at her as he began to walk. "The council wants me to decide whether you live or die. I don't know yet what I'm going to tell them."

101 straightened and cast her baleful glare after him. "What's the earliest time that you can remember?" He stopped and glanced over his shoulder. "I can't remember my past. I don't think you can either. What's your earliest memory. Tell me."

"I was 18. I walked off the streets and into the army." The stillness was resumed. The woman smiled slightly and observed her guard with a fresh inquisitiveness. "We are nothing alike." he snapped, then left the room.

***

Two hours later, the lieutenant seated himself at the boardroom table on the carrier' command deck. Around him sat the storm trooper commander of the Tyrus' army as well as the wing commander of her air force. General Anderson sat across from him. The General was the first to speak.

"It's good to see you, Jan. We have much to discuss." He leant over the table. "Firstly, I would like to again congratulate you for your team's bravery in destroying the USIA's main weapon and also for capturing the assassin that murdered minister Sobczak. Let me assure you that should the rules of this service be otherwise I would have had you promoted higher but for now we must make do with what we can. Your team is now one of the most famous special forces units in our service, up there with the black ops commandos in the confederate army and the elite storm troopers aboard the Ares. For your next assignment your equipment will be upgraded, giving you the best this nation has to offer. In time you will be formally reassigned to a new carrier, most likely not the Tyrus, but for now you will remain as guests aboard her. You also represent the memory of the Charon and all who sailed upon her."

Jan interrupted as politely as he could. "The memory, sir? I know that the troopers who made it behind enemy lines with us were killed but surely you must have been able to rescue some from the Charon's wreck?"

The General shook his head slowly. "No, Jan. Every one of them was lost." The senior officer watched dispassionately as the trooper processed the information before continuing. "Your unit will keep the name C084 in their memory, but you will also be assigned a new name, fitting of your achievements. From now on, the six of you will be known as The Charon's Ghosts. Ghost Team. You will receive no forced reinforcements to your number, should you wish to remain as a six you will do. Any questions?"

"No, sir."

The two representatives of the Tyrus' command gave their own speeches of gratitude in turn, shaking the lieutenant's hand warmly. The General smiled, then returned to the fore. "Excellent. Now to the matter at hand. The prisoner. What is your opinion of her?"

Jan took a deep breath before he answered. "She is reforming, sir."

"What do you mean by that?"

"It is my belief, sir, that she was stolen as a teenager by some organisation and forcibly indoctrinated as an assassin. The drugs that we found in her blood were her link to that regime. With her body clean of them her true self is coming to light. She is not a killer, merely a manipulated and frightened girl. I believe that the person who was responsible for minister Sobczak's murder no longer exists, and that we have a duty to protect this woman."

The storm trooper commander interjected this time. "You want us to pardon a convicted murderer and prolific assassin? This is outrageous, lieutenant!"

Jan looked his commanding officer in the eyes, his gaze unwavering. "As I have said, I do not believe she can be held responsible The assassin is already dead." He paused. "On top of that, sir, I believe there is a more serious threat at work here."

The airman on the left hand side of the table joined the discussion. "Your meaning, lieutenant Taylor?"

"Whoever sent her has a long arm. Long enough to reach anywhere on the globe, I guess. Perhaps, once her memory recovers, she may prove a valuable source of information."

The Tyrus' staff leant back in their chairs, deep in thought, their votes deferred to the senior officer. General Anderson did not move. "So what is your decision, Jan?"

"She lives." The other two members of the panel looked at Jan, then back to the General and nodded. "And she joins my team."

[Lemartes]

Wow, cool, I never thought that Sarah would join C084, but kinda cool that she is.

[Jinxie]

I likes this development, I think you should be happy with it!
Very well done Imp, looking forward to your next instalment! :wink:

[ajrk32]

Better than " filler" material.

[Imperial Dragon]

So...tired...

I'm going away for a week this saturday, so there wont be any updates until the 15th if there's no internets wherever I'm staying but I'm taking the laptop with me so I can carryon writing in my free time. To say sorry I've made a bit of an extra effort volume wise with this one, so have a read through and I hope you enjoy it!



PARIAH

Chapter Twelve – Redshirt


The door to 101’s cell viewing area slid open and the storm trooper entered once again. This, time, however, he moved straight over to the armoured door that led into the cell itself. The assassin was stood in the far corner of the room and her head snapped up as she heard the bolts being drawn back. Jan stepped into the darkened chamber, his face as grim as ever. Like a captive tiger shown the outside world for the first time, she edged towards him, confused and fearful. She remained in the shadows, her piercing eyes examining him for any sign of a threat. He was unarmed. They both stayed motionless, each watching the other in silence.

“I’m not here to kill you,” Jan said, his voice heavy and tired. The woman cocked her head to one side and slowly took a step out of the shadows. “But I’m not here to free you either.”

“You’re going to keep me imprisoned?”

He smiled ever so slightly. “In a way, yes.”

A hint of anger crept into her tone. “Out with it.”

“My team has been upgraded. We’ve been made one of the most elite units in the storm trooper corps and soon we’ll be sent off on a new mission. I lost four of my men dropping into Warsaw and it seems I may be losing a fifth soon.” His eyes dropped to the floor as fresh, agonising thoughts of Sascha flooded into his mind. “I want you on my side.”

101’s eyes shot open and she bared her teeth. “I’ve just thrown off the shackles of an organisation that made me slaughter innocent people for a living, and now you’re asking me to join another one?”

“We do not slaughter innocents. We fight to protect them.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before.” She stopped suddenly, realising what she had just said. She racked her brain in search of the memory that had prompted the statement. Jan watched, surprised, as her face contorted in confusion. She switched her gaze back to him, her expression cast from stone once again. “And it was a lie.”

Jan allowed himself a second to think before responding. “I’m offering you a chance to give your life some meaning, to put your skills to a better cause.”

“And what if I refuse?”

“Then you’re free to go.” The door to her cell was wide open, but she didn’t move. “Look, this isn’t exactly a dream job but we make a difference.” He paused again. “You’ll get your revenge.”

“Revenge?”

“This organisation that sent you here sounds like a serious global threat to me. If you remember anything that can confirm that they have the capability to threaten the EDC then we can convince the high commands to authorise hunting them down and destroying them. The corps can attack anywhere in the world with lethal force. We’ve given you your life back. We’ve given you back the ability to make this decision. We might be able to give you the chance to make them pay for what they did to you.” She remained stock still, considering the offer and trying to dredge anything helpful up from the fractured mess of her memories. “Say yes.”

“Yes.” Jan smiled, a broad, true smile, and reached out to shake her hand. She gripped it firmly, her strength still undiminished. “When do I start?”

“Now. Let’s get you fitted up.” Her turned and strode towards the cell’s exit. 101 didn’t follow, still waiting in the shadows like a frightened cat. He turned back to her. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m going to have a real life again.”

“Yes, you are. You can start over, start over with us.” He laughed. “You’re going to need a name. We can’t call you 101.”

She smiled and thought for a second. “The last woman I killed, I stole her name, in New York. I owe it to her to keep it, to make it a proud name, one that people will remember.” Jan nodded. “My name will be Sarah. Sarah Ibanez.” The lieutenant grinned at his new recruit and led her from the room.

***

The pair chatted amongst themselves as they headed for the ship’s armouries. The endless, identical steel corridors wound on and on through the giant vessel, staircase after staircase punctuating the journey with yet more bland metal but neither was bored. For Sarah a new life beckoned and for Jan he had found someone that he shared an almost ethereal connection with. The recruit’s tongue loosened the longer they talked, her long-repressed mind now full of inquisitiveness and wonder.

“So, tell me about my new team-mates”

Jan grinned down at her. “Well, there’re six of us and you, as I say. There’s me, I’m supposed to be in charge of the rest of you but it’s pretty liberal to be fair. There’s Gav Jones, our mad welsh demolitions expert. He’ll probably take a liking to you straight away, just watch out for him. He’s kind of unstable at times. Then there are the Tomasson brothers: Eidur and Mikail. Ei’s in charge of our communications, which is more important than you’d think even with the headsets in each man’s helmet. Mika’s our medic. He’s got all your basic first aid stuff, stims, energy shots for your nanos and god knows what else. Those two are inseparable, so if you piss one of them off you piss both of them off. There’s Lukas Fritz too, our sniper. I swear that guy’s got something wrong with him.”

Sarah smiled back at him and looked confused. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. "He just enjoys what he does too much. I mean, we're all killers and we have to be prepared to kill but that doesn't mean we have to have fun doing it." Sarah nodded, processing the new information that she was being given. She wondered what this Lukas was like, maybe he was more like her. Her smile widened as she briefly lost herself in her own thoughts. "And then there's Sasch." His head dropped and his pace slowed slightly, Sarah steadying her own stride to match him, looking up at him with her eyes full of concern. "Not that I know how much longer that'll last." He resumed his original speed and the two of them continued on in silence towards the armoury.

The door to the armoury slid open and the two of them strode inside. Jan in his heavy blue battle armour and Sarah in her thin white prison robe. As they entered, the room's occupants looked round, drawing and loading their weapons as they caught sight of Sarah. Jan stepped in the way and raised his arms, calming the situation before his new recruit ended up overboard, With the Tyrus' storm trooper detachment staring down at the intruders through mirrored visors, they strode over to the first desk. Jan saluted to the man behind the desk, who returned the gesture. Sarah stood just behind him and smiled. Suddenly, her vision flashed again, her world turning black and white. The quartermaster's blue uniform swirled and transformed into a heavy woollen black robe, the hood covering the burns on his face. Yellow teeth gleamed as his torn lips twisted into a grin. The racks behind him turned to black metal, lined with thousands of different weapons. Around them she could hear the shrieks of the dying, then the vision was no more. She awoke to find Jan shaking her into consciousness, his eyes now the ones filled with concern. She nodded at him, then turned back to smile at the quartermaster, his shape reformed. The rest of the soldiers in the room watched on with renewed intensity.

Jan addressed the civilian calmly despite the heated atmosphere. "Lieutenant Jan Taylor. We're here to get the young lady her first suit?"

The young quartermaster nodded. "Ah yes, Ghost squad. I was informed of your requirements. Please, come with me." The young man lead the two of them behind the desk, then sealed the metal grills to give them some privacy. They continued on to one of the back rooms, where he opened up a rack of armour suits labelled 'X SERIES'. "The rest of you will be allowed to upgrade your armour here soon, but for now let's just focus on the lady." Sarah blushed as he smiled at her. "Right, first of all we need you to take off that robe in the dressing room. Let us know when you're ready."

She wandered over to the large dressing chambers at the back of the x series room and entered one. Both men turned their backs on the room and stood in awkward silence while she disrobed. A few seconds later her voice rang back out from behind them. "Ready!" She proclaimed. Both men turned round and the quartermaster opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. She was stood with the chamber door open, stark naked in front of them. After a stunned second staring at her body, both men recoiled and snapped their heads back around.

"Jesus, girl, that's not what he meant!" Jan shouted. "Get back in the room and shut the door!"

She did so, slightly confused, with no hint of shame on her face. The quartermaster turned back around and cleared his throat, his face bright red. "We're going to pass you in some garments now, if you could try them on, that would be a great help." He removed a crate from the shelf, opened it and swore under his breath. The crate contained a set of kevlar-lined underwear. He turned back to the dressing chambers and tried to shout, but his embarrassment again got the better of him.

Jan rolled his eyes and stepped in. "Sarah, what's your bra size?"

"34C, why?"

Jan selected the crate that contained the appropriate size of clothing and slid it under the door. "Don't open the door this time." A small giggle sounded from within the chamber as she pulled the underwear on. Next, the quartermaster gave her a catsuit, similar to the one Jan wore to act as support for her under armour "It's OK, you can come out now." The door retracted and she stepped out, covered from her feet up to her neck in dark grey ribs of polymer fibres She flexed her arms and legs, rotating her shoulders and marvelling at the flexibility of the suit. The three of them walked back over to the armour racks, eyeing the shining prototype armour.

"So, ma'am, what is your preferred fighting style?" The quartermaster asked.

Sarah thought for a moment, trying to remember back to the fight at the Palace. "I can do long ranged but I prefer close combat, a kind of athletic style I guess."

The man grinned and lowered a series of large armour plates from one of the racks. "Prototype X20 battle armour, designed for black ops officers or so I'm told. The plates are thin and very lightweight but very strong at the same time so you should have no trouble running around in them and they'll keep you well protected. The central plate keeps you completely covered but is flexible, so you can twist in it. You've got basic plates down your arms and legs, but they mould into this flexible plating at the joints so you don't need to have your under armour exposed like the normal troopers do. You get the same stuff up by the neck too. Standard issue utility belt and helmet interface. You get the basic trooper helmet but in a more flashy style. It's roughly the same internal workings for everyone, or so I'm told. The suit also has a more advanced cloaking system so you effectively..." He pushed a button on the back of one of the gauntlets. The suit seemed to vanish into thin air, a faintly flickering white outline the only indication that there had ever been anything there. "...disappear, Try it on."

She did so, her grin broadening as she finally stood next to her new commanding officer, wearing the same dark blue garb of the EDC's finest. "What about weapons?"

"Well, what are you used to?" Jan asked.

Again she paused. "An SMG that doubled up as a sniper rifle, matched silenced automatic pistols that could also fire heavy rounds, matched short swords and a long, two-handed sword."

The men raised their eyebrows slightly, the civilian being the first to respond. "We can do the carbine rifle, not sure about the handguns. MX31 silenced sub-machine-gun with a pop-up scope and a barrel extender for long range targets. We've got a pair of matched silenced MPs, but I don't know how you'd get them to fire different shells." He passed the three weapons to her and she instinctively strapped the carbine to her back and the pistols to her waist. This prompted more expressions of surprise from the pair of onlookers. "As for blades, we have these." He removed a pair of cases, each containing glistening pristine swords. He removed the pair of matched short swords first. "Aptly named for you lot, these are ghost swords They have the same cloaking tech as your suit, so they can fade out whenever you like too." She took them and slid the scabbards down behind the rifle. "And finally, our stupidly named sonic sword" He drew the weapon from its sheath and let the light shine on it's immaculate finish. "Emits a sonic pulse when you press the button on the hilt, knocking your enemies out of the way and stunning them for the final stroke. Enjoy!"

With Sarah suited up in her fresh trooper armour and her childishly playing with the cloaking button the two Ghosts bade the quartermaster farewell and headed back out of the armoury. Jan looked down at her and grinned as they walked, slapping her on the back. As they exited the chamber she stopped and tugged at his hand. They halted in the silent corridor, staring at one another. Sarah looked at the floor, the first sign of sadness that she had shown for hours etched into her shining eyes.

"I want to see Sascha."

[Jinxie]

*bounces off walls*

i dont want us to go away, we need to stay here for the benefit of Pariah! :D

Good Imp, liked the humour in that,
total Beth-moment there!

Looking forward to seeing more as always,

- Your faithful Pariah Cheerleader

[Lemartes]

Awesome man, can't wait to see the new C084 in action!

[ajrk32]

looks great, Her blackouts might be a problem in combat though.
:)
: )

[Imperial Dragon]

:D Thanks again for all the support! As I say, this is my last update for a week or so but I'll keep writing while I'm away if I can. Watch this space!

[ajrk32]

Can you be more difficult? just update us as soon as possible.
amy ways what do we think is going to happen?
i know angel wants jan to fall in love with sarah. but besides that?

[Imperial Dragon]

Aaaaaaaaaand he's back! In retrospect I have no idea why I said I'd be away for a week and back on the 15h, becaue the 15th is clearly not a week away from when i left :? But anyway, back to business. It wasn't exactly the sit around doing nothing holiday that I had hoped for, so I didn't get as much time to write as I would've liked. As it happens I managed to finish chapters 12 and 13, so they'll be posted up now while I start on 14 tomorrow, I think. I'm going to stagger posting the sections that I have written, so it's not just there in one big clump. So, thankyou for your patience over the last week and here's the second half of chapter 12:




***

The medical wing was as silent as a morgue as Jan and Sarah strode between the darkened rooms. The eerie atmosphere only served to heighten the tension, Jan's heart torn apart with misery and regret, the pangs of guilt beginning to creep into Sarah's. Jan already knew what they were about to see, but for Sarah she was about to face an unknown. A part of her knew that for the first time in her life she was about to be confronted by a depiction of the consequences of her actions. The memories of what had transpired in the tunnels below the Palace were still hazy and lost completely in places, but she knew that she had all but killed this woman in cold blood. She could not tell what it was that appalled her most: that she had done it, or that at the time she had thought nothing of doing it. Every second that passed with her body clean of her former masters' liquor brought fresh resolve to her new life, but also began to repair her dismembered memories. With those memories came pain. Very slowly she was being forced to come to terms with the things that she had done, the people that she had murdered, the crimes that she had committed. All that could be seen from the outside of this internal struggle was her silence and down turned gaze.

Sarah's tensions mounted as they continued on. Her breath caught in her throat as they approached the door, a series of clouded shapes forming from her memories. Four unfamiliar people became recognisable in a flash. As she saw the figures, seated on benches either side of the corridor her mind's eye tracked back to the palace basement. The four men that had stood between her and Jan, that had tried to stop her just like Sascha had, except that they were still alive. She was afraid.

Lukas looked up, his eyes misty with barely contained exhaustion. None of the team had been able to get a decent night's sleep for many days, even the usually indifferent sniper. Before him he saw his commanding officer, walking solemnly towards them, his head bowed. Next to the lieutenant strode their enemy. The woman that had knocked him unconscious while she all but killed Ramirez. The source of their sadness. He shot up from the bench and faced the former assassin, sliding a short dagger free from a loop of cloth on his upper left arm. He advanced on Sarah, light glinting from the edge of the blade as the rest of the team realised what was going on. Fritz's face locked into a snarl as he raised the weapon, the woman stepping backwards in shock as he rammed it down towards her throat. Jan caught his arm, shoving him backwards and standing between the two of them, intervening a second before the blade pierced Sarah's neck. Lukas stood firm, glowering at her behind Jan's shoulder. Gav, Eidur and Mikail stood behind the German, their own faces conveying a blend of confusion and anger.

"Jan," Lukas breathed, "what is this?"

The lieutenant's gaze didn't flinch from that of his sergeant. "Calm yourself. We're all friends here now."

Eidur's mouth dropped open and the familiar rage returned to his eyes. "Her? She's with us?"

"Yes, Ei."

The Icelander's head snapped to the side as though he had been slapped, then he turned back to the officer. "She's an enemy, sir. She's killed Ramirez. Her life is ours." He stepped forwards.

Jan stood firm, his voice strong but not raised. "Exactly, and she repays us in blood. In foreign blood, not her own." The rest of the squad remained silent, Mika shifting uneasily amid the hostility. "Look, you don't have to agree with me right now but just trust me. Please." One by one the storm troopers nodded their consent, Lukas the last in line.

He glowered at the woman, resplendent in her shining blue armour, her silver eyes meeting his brown eyes. "Trust has to be earned." He said, sliding the dagger back into its sheath. "I trust Jan. I do not trust you."

The Ghosts parted ranks and allowed Jan and Sarah passage between them. When Sarah came close she kept her eyes turned downwards. The men's breath caught in their throats as she passed, a brief wave of nausea washing over them. The feeling disappeared just as suddenly as it had arrived. As the two soldiers headed for the door, Eidur Tomasson grabbed Jan by the shoulder. "You're going to let her in there?"

"Yes. Maybe she wants to make amends. Pay her respects."

Ei snorted. "Finish the job, more like."

Lieutenant Taylor ignored the sergeant's comments and opened the door to Sascha's ICU. The room was still full of medical staff, their movements less furtive, more resigned. The machines lining the room continued their monotonous task in silence. The men and women inside the chamber looked up for a second, recognised their regular visitor then returned to their chores. Jan closed the door behind him and carefully ushered Sarah towards the bed in the centre of the room. Sascha looked unchanged from Jan's last visit, the colour drained from her tanned cheeks and her neatly organised black hair throwing her pale skin into even starker contrast. The linen sheets were unstained and the translucent polymer tubes that carried her blood to and from the dialysis apparatus were still full of the same red solution. She looked more like a cadaver than a patient.

Sarah stared at the fruits of her labour. Jan's best friend lay in front of her, brought near death by her hand. Even though it was hidden by sheets and dressings, Sarah could see the wound that she had caused in her mind's eye. She relived the fight in the tunnels one agonising time more. Dodging under Sascha's flashing blades, knocking her backwards then hurling her into the ceiling like a plaything. A single tear slid lazily down one cheek as she remembered readying her weapon. Sascha came falling back towards her. With no hesitation, no apprehension, no moral qualms she had rammed the blade home, impaling the helpless woman on it's point and then torn it upwards into her chest for what she had known would be a killing blow. Parts of the scene that she had not noticed at the time were now starkly obvious. The way her victim's eyes snapped open and the way her face contorted in pain as the cold steel entered her abdomen. The sickening crunch as she hit the floor. Her blood pooling on the cold stone. The small cry that Jan let out when he saw. Sarah felt sick just thinking about it.

Time seemed to stand still as she remembered, her eyes staring unseeing at the deathly pale figure before her. The tears continued to flow. She was a killer. She had killed this woman, this woman who had meant so much to the only man who had ever put faith in her. She was a monster. She would never change, this was all she would ever be. All she was capable of being. A blind weapon, an obsessed murderer. Jan's hand rested on her shoulder. She looked away from the bed, her gaze resting on the blade at her waist. How could she live as that creature? She had had her chance and blown it, now she was nothing but a stain on the world. She deserved to die. She began to reach for the weapon. This was the right thing to do. No one would miss her, no one would weep at her passing. She had to die. Then her eyes fell on the table next to Sascha's bed and her hand stopped moving. Death was too good for her. She had to atone, her life had to mean something good. Jan was right, she had to put her skills to a better cause. When she died she would die a warrior's death, giving her all to protect those who could not protect themselves. Protecting the world from her masters. Protecting her friends in their darkest hours. Yes, she should have been killed, but she hadn't. She had a second chance.

The lieutenant's hand pulled gently at her shoulder and she turned to leave, her eyes still fixed on the small table. The two of them walked towards the door and towards the rest of the team. The doctors ignored them and continued their chores. Sarah locked her jaw and breathed deeply, her last tear dripping from her angled chin to the floor. As Jan passed through the door she kicked off. Using her incredible speed and strength she darted to the doorway, slamming the heavy metal plate into place while with the other hand she activated the control panel, sealing the room shut. None of the troopers could react in time. Jan turned, shocked, to see her advancing on Sascha's bed. His shock turned to anger and he punched at the glass porthole in the door but to no avail, the window barely shifting even under the force of his armoured gauntlets. The other Ghosts saw what had happened and were themselves roaring at the door, hitting their own weight against the metal frame. Inside the chamber the doctors were powerless to stop the battle armoured soldier and merely huddled in a corner in terror. Sarah strode over to Sascha's bedside, breathing heavily. With one hand she pulled back the under armour that coated her neck, revealing her bare ashen skin. The other hand reached down to the surgical trolley and took a syringe from the top shelf. The chaos outside the room faded away, but she couldn't tell whether that was her own concentration or because the rest of the squad were just watching. The needle plunged into a bulging blood vessel, sucking a thick stream of her lifeblood into the clear container above. Once it was filled, she pulled the metal spike free and released the elastic armour as the puncture wound healed. She shook her head as the regeneration sapped a tiny proportion of her energy. Her mind completely focussed she leant over the bed and pulled back the cloth, revealing dark blue dressings. She removed those as well and cast the pile of linen to the floor. The bruised tissue around Sascha's stomach, running up her body to finish between her breasts was now clearly visible, the purple becoming all the more apparent next to the rest of her paling skin. She hesitated for a brief second as she considered the complications of what she was about to do, then plunged the syringe of her own blood into the stricken storm trooper's solar plexus.

The red fluid was injected down the needle and into Sascha's bloodstream. Sarah removed the needle and turned back to face the door. The Ghosts had indeed halted their attempts to gain access to the chamber and Jan's face was pressed up against the glass. He stared into Sarah's tear-stained eyes through the window, moisture from his own eyes evaporating from his flushed cheeks. The two of them watched each other in silence for what seemed like forever. Behind Sarah the bruising on the patient's chest began to disappear. The familiar light brown began to return to her skin and the dialysis machine began to empty. A steady beeping sound began to emanate from every computer in the room. The tubes from the bypass system poured their contents back into her body and detached, snaking to the floor. The scars on her body healed. Her internal organs and blood vessels could be seen through her flesh, re knitting into their original shapes. He legs began to vibrate gently. The sensation moved steadily up her body, reaching her chest, her arms, her neck. Her eyes snapped open, as did her mouth. Sascha gulped down her first true breath in days, then turned her head slowly to stare into Sarah's eyes. Somewhere inside she understood.

"Thank you" she breathed, then slipped into the land of dreams.



Chapter 13 coming soon, tonight or early tomorrow.

[Jinxie]

That chapter 13 better be tonight boy :evil:

EDIT: I now get the thing, which i wont mention as i guess its a spoiler to others. At least i think i do.
Anyway, good job \:D/

[Imperial Dragon]

Since Angel has now dragged me out of bed, stopping me getting the sleep that I havent had all week to get me to post up again I guess I better had. The start of chapter 13 and the start of what I'm calling the second section of three, so we're about a third of the way through story wise. I'm slightly wary of eating my way through too much story and getting to the finale before I've covered all the background, which would make the ending kinda rubbish. Because of that, this chapter's pretty heavy on the character narrative by comparison, as it were. Anyways, enjoy, I'm off to bed.



PARIAH

Chapter Thirteen – A New Mission

One by one the seven members of Ghost Team filed into the recreation chamber that had been set aside for them. The mood in the room was a positive one, the troopers happy and relaxed for the first time in weeks. Warsaw had been saved, the imperial army was defeated and in retreat, the assassin had been bested and Sascha had been brought back from the brink of death. Each team member had been rewarded for their actions and each was now resplendent in their experimental X Series battle suits Their weapons had been upgraded to fit their new ranks, their armour bore new rank badges and each of them had a silver skull emblazoned on the left side of their chests above their regiment details. They were the Ghosts, and they were famous.

The seven blue armoured figures stood in their own small groups, chatting amongst themselves and shouting jovially across the room to the other groups. Gav Jones and the Tomasson brothers stood together off to one side, discussing their new equipment and the possible locations of their next assignment. Eidur was busy pressing every button within reach on his new suit until he found the control panel for deploying his close combat countermeasures. The pulse charge on his palm activated, a wave of energy hitting his brother in the face and sending Mikail flying several feet through the air. The two troopers that remained standing doubled over with laughter as their slightly stunned comrade picked himself up. Jan and Sascha were deep in conversation in the far corner of the room, reunited at last. Her recovery had been incredibly rapid and she had been back in her armour within a day. The pair spoke with lowered voices, smiling at one another as they talked about nothing. Sascha was staring into Jan's eyes, feeling strangely at peace considering how close she had come to death. The squad leader on the other hand was relatively restless. He was engaging well enough in their trivial discussion but seemed lost in his own thoughts at the same time, as he usually was, his gaze often flitting back over his shoulder to the final two members of his team.

Sarah and Lukas were sat on the floor away from the others, their backs against a wall. Both remained silent. The sniper leant his head forward, resting his chin and both hands on the muzzle of his rifle. Every so often he turned away and retched silently as a fresh wave of nausea washed over him. He stared at the floor, occasionally looking over towards his new team-mate, his feelings unusually complicated. His comrade also sat in silence, flicking a bullet into the air and catching it again as someone would a coin. Sarah's gaze bored holes in Jan's back, her silver eyes unflinching as she watched him. When he turned toward her she averted her gaze, trying and failing to disguise her thoughts. She caught the bullet and held it in her hand, watching it for a few seconds, then turned to Lukas.

"Are you always this quiet?"

He turned his head slightly, his chin still resting on the tip of the rifle's barrel. "Are you?"

Sarah snorted gently. "Don't do that, it's not clever." Fritz ignored the remark and turned to stare at the floor again. "Do you still resent me?" He shook his head. "But you don't want me here."

"I never said that."

"You never said anything."

"You nearly killed Ramirez, that's a bad point, but you saved her, so that's a good point." Lukas took the rifle out from under his chin and rested his right elbow on it instead, tuning back to the former assassin. "Look, I don't particularly care what you did before you joined up, high command don't tend to care either. This is a war, we need every gun we can get our hands on. If the recruit's a dead end with no family then all the better, means less crying when they get shot. No offence."

Sarah's face creased into a slight smile. "None taken. I mean, I don't remember anything before last week all that clearly, so I could have been a millionairess for all I know."

"Well you can buy me a car when we've finished sending the world to hell. But seriously, we're all pretty messed up." He raised his left hand to point at the other figures in the room, starting with the Welshman "Jones is insane and a paedophile, I think. Well, a pervert at least, children are probably too fast for him to catch. The Tomassons are practically a gay incest couple. Ramirez goes mad when we're fighting and she's obsessed with Jan. Then there's me, and you've probably got your own opinions there." He started when he noticed Sarah's eerie eyes fixed on him. She shook her head. After a few seconds of silence he shrugged and said "They think I enjoy my job too much."

Sarah looked at the floor for a few seconds, summoning up the courage to ask her next question. "What about Jan?"

Lukas openly grinned at her. She turned her gaze back downwards, fearing that she had been too transparent. "He's probably the most screwed up out of all of us, but I don't think I'm supposed to know. Sascha knows, but that's because he tells her everything. I just overheard." He paused while he checked that they themselves were not being overheard. "He has amnesia from a few years ago. He can't remember any of his childhood, anything that happened before he joined the army. Maybe he was part of some secret government testing project, creating the world's first super-nutjob abroad." He allowed himself a minor chuckle.

Sarah cocked her head to one side, a habit she was as yet unable to shake. "Why do you say abroad?"

He shrugged. "His brother lives in America Jan's always pushed for the eastern front placements so that he won't have a chance of killing Ali, but that's never been easy with us being storm troopers and now that we're 'famous' he'll probably get less choice. Plus he's schizophrenic." Sarah remained motionless, one eyebrow raised slightly. "I guessed a while ago, but it was weird that he knows it himself. We've been together as a team, us six, for a good while now. Smith and Hella were the new blood but they're gone now too. But yeah, sometimes it's like there's another Jan Taylor inside him that's trying to get out. Sometimes he's the stalwart leader with his cute little obsession with keeping us all alive, then sometimes he's just a killer. I mean, we're all killers, but it's like he just hates everyone, even us. I don't know, maybe it just my playful imagination at work." Sarah turned away again, staring wistfully at the lieutenant's back. "What's with you two?"

She turned back to him. "I don't understand."

"Well, he doesn't really bond with any of the FNGs for a while after they sign up, but you two snapped together straight away. Now that's weird, but doubly so when you think that you all but killed his best friend and pet admirer."

Her eyes lingered for a second, then turned away again. "We have alot in common." Lukas waited for a few seconds more of silence, then he too turned away. Jan looked back over his shoulder again, but this time Sarah didn't avert her gaze. They smiled.

The moment was shattered as the door to the recreation room opened. An EDC officer in his dark blue dress robes strode into the chamber. The room fell silent and all seven Ghosts turned to listen to him as he stood to attention.

"Orders from Paris, you're being transferred and put back on active duty."

Jan turned away from Sascha and crossed the room to where the messenger was standing. "Where? And what's the new carrier?"

"There is no new carrier so far, you'll be placed under the indirect command of the Infernus but you'll pretty much be operating loosely within special forces' guidelines. You'll be reassigned later on."

Jan nodded, pleased with the freedom that they were being given. "Where's the placement?"

The officer took a data slate from his belt and typed in a series of codes. The screen flashed briefly, then the man cleared his throat. "Iceland, you're repelling a UNA submarine assault on the northern peninsulas."

The room fell silent. Jan's face fell and rest of the team turned to Eidur and Mikail. Any hint of joviality was instantly destroyed. The brothers just stood where they were and looked at each other in silence.

[Imperial Dragon]

And here's the next section. That just about exhausts everything that I wrote on holiday, so the next stuff will all be new and fresh. That said, it is REVISION TIME and exams are approaching, so apologies if the updates start to slow down. Once the exams are over I'll be able to completely focus on this, so the writing should happen very quickly. So, for now, enjoy the next update and chapter 14 will be with you soon. Next stop, Iceland!




***

The Ghosts had their bags sent onto the top deck and were ready for boarding in a few hours. Jan said his farewells to General Anderson and the Tyrus' charges that he had come to know over the last few weeks. Helmets under their arms, the seven storm troopers strode onto the upper plane of the colossal airship in silence. The city stretched away from the sides of the vessel, thousands of feet below them, smoke still pouring from the decimated buildings and the river still recovering but the skies free from enemy aircraft. EDC recon fighters were taking off and landing around them but other than that the deck was silent, or as silent as it could be with gale force winds rippling over its surface. The retreating USIA army was now nowhere to be seen, peace restored to Poland.

As he walked away from the stairs, Jan was halted by a call off to his right, towards the control tower. The team stopped in line with their lieutenant The party from the control tower jogged across the deck, five storm troopers clad in the EDC's standard battle suits, their faces covered by visors. As they approached, their leader removed his helmet and slotted it under his arm. The man's mouth split into a wide grin as he halted in front of Jan, saluting as he did so. The others formed up behind him.

"Sergeant Pierre Menan, T608." The man presented himself, the English words distorted by his heavy French accent. Jan saluted in return. "I have someone here who wishes to see you, lieutenant" He stepped aside, revealing a small girl clad in a light white dress and white sandals. Her dress billowed in the winds that tore across the upper deck of the ship. In her arms she held a stuffed bear, hugged close to her chest. Her long dark hair fell about her shoulders, neatly combed. She looked up at Jan, her wide eyes glassy windows into a contented soul, and smiled. The lieutenant beamed back at her and stepped forwards, taking her and the bear up into his arms. The faces of soldiers around them lit up as girl and storm trooper hugged one another.

Jan looked deep into the girl's eyes and smiled. "You survived." She nodded, her tiny face full of hope. "Sergeant Menan found you?"

She nodded again. "He saved us from one of the nasty men, brought us here to see you." Her smile dropped slightly. "Are you leaving?"

"Yes."

She looked back up at him. "Can we come with you?"

Jan lowered his gaze and sighed. Still holding her in his arms, he lowered himself to one knee. He ushered her to stand, then looked her in the eyes and gripped her shoulders gently in his giant armoured gauntlets. "I'm a soldier. It's a hard life, a dark path. I don't enjoy doing what I do, but I do it to protect people like you. People that can't defend themselves. Where I'm going now..." He looked back at his team, then back to the girl. "...I don't even know if me or any of my friends will make it home."

"You might be killed?"

The lieutenant was slightly taken aback by her maturity, but continued nonetheless. "Yes. It's not going to be a safe place, which is why you can't come with me." The girl's face fell slightly. "I want you to be safe, and you won't be safe with me. Command'll find you a home, in the confederacy heartland. You and teddy will be as far away as you can get from all the nasty men that was to hurt us." He released her shoulders and stood, her dark eyes following his movement all the way. He turned to address the sergeant. "Make sure she gets a top end recipient family, in Berlin. Tell command it's on by personal request." Menan nodded. Jan lowered himself back down onto his knees and smiled at the girl again. She jumped towards him and the two hugged warmly once again. After a few seconds they parted. The girl looked at Jan and frowned, then reached up to reposition a lock of his blonde hair that had fallen over his face. They both grinned at each other again. Jan looked down at the bear and placed a hand on it's head. "Look after her for me, teddy." With that, he stood and saluted to Sergeant Menan, the other trooper returning the gesture and then leading the girl away from the Ghosts. As they left, Jan thought for a second then shouted after them. "Wait! I don't even know your name!" The girl simply turned, smiled, waved then was gone. The lieutenant smiled, lost in his own thoughts for a second, then turned back to his team. He nodded to them, and lead them towards their destination.

The team approached their transportation, the aircraft that would take them the full length of the EDC and onto the very brink of the western front, to the war with America The heavy-duty transporter jet stood on its six wheels, its weight supported by extra metal struts that extended from the floor of the deck. A small set of stairs ran up to the boarding hatch on the right flank of the plane, the opening having been made taller and wider to accommodate the storm troopers' heavy armour. The jet was easily twice the length of a drop ship and was painted in the familiar deep blue patterns of the EDC. A white band ran along its length, the word TYRUS printed on the hull next to the door in blue. The ship's crew could faintly be seen making their final flight checks behind the tinted windows above the jet's angled nose. The engines began to power up, the white fire that was a usual side effect of using MPEC generators flickering out of the back of the ship's thrusters. The squad climbed the staircase one by one and ducked into the jet's interior.

The inside of the craft was hardly luxury, but it was far and away better than any drop ship or carrier. The troopers paired up and took their seats. The Tomasson brothers sat together and Fritz sat on his own at the back as usual, the German arguing with the copilot over whether or not he was allowed to play with his knife during the flight. Jan sat with Sascha and Jones sat across from them. He grinned at the one remaining member of the team and patted the seat next to him. Sarah hesitated, unsure of how to react.

Sascha rolled her eyes and stood from her seat. "I'll sort it out, I'll talk to you from over here." She stepped over Jan's giant legs and walked past Sarah, patting her on the shoulder as she did so. "Don't worry about him, go sit next to Jan." She smiled, then sat down next to the Welshman whose smile had quickly disappeared. She buckled herself in, then slapped him backhanded across the mouth through his unkept beard. Sarah allowed herself a giggle and Sascha grinned back up at her. She pointed at the seat next to the lieutenant Smiling sheepishly, Sarah stepped past his legs and sat herself next to their commander. The two smiled at each other as they buckled themselves in, Sascha's smiled falling slightly over Jan's shoulder. She hit Gav again for good measure.

As the plane readied itself for take-off the squad began to chat idly about the forthcoming mission. Jan and Sarah remained silent, the absence of sound proving awkward as the engines hummed through the thick armoured hull around them. Jan finally found his voice.

"Thank you, for Sascha."

Sarah smiled and averted her eyes. "It was nothing, I just needed to fix things. Use my abilities for something good, for a change, like you said." She looked back up at him again, but didn't quite meet his gaze. Her eyes lost focus around him and she twitched slightly "The reagents in my blood will pass out through her urine, she wont be able to regenerate for long, don't worry."

Jan mouthed the word 'oh', then nodded a few times to himself. The awkward silence returned. "So...er, you can...regenerate?"

Sarah smiled again. "Yeah, it seems that it's one of the things the drugs did to me, but doesn't seem to have gone. Only the weird vision and the mental instability have been taken away, all the good things seem to still be there."

"What happens if you get shot?"

She shrugged. "The bullet usually gets pushed back out of my body as I heal, sometimes I have to pull it out myself. After that, the wound just reverts back to the way it was before the bullet hit me." She thought for a second, the action becoming familiar both to Jan and herself as she delved into her memories. "So long as my brain stays intact, I can pretty much regenerate from anything."

"Even falling out of a plane?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Why?"

This time Jan averted his gaze. "No reason, just casual curiosity, I guess."

The plane finally kicked off, tearing along one of the upper deck's runways and dropping from the end of the carrier. Before long it had banked around over the Vistula river and was heading west, away from the ruins of the city. Out of the armoured windows the Ghosts could see the other three carriers, their immense bulk floating effortlessly through the clear blue skies as they silently patrolled the city's borders. The aircraft reached a steady altitude as it passed out of Warsaw, heading across the Polish heartland and heading for the shipyards of Berlin.

[Jinxie]

GET AWAY.

i don't want Sarah and Jan together any more!
Sarah and Lukas!
That'd be win team.

Imagine the supadoopaninjababies. :smt007

[Lemartes]

Great, getting vey interesting.

[ajrk32]

charming!
i quite like the multi love intrests of sarah.
hmm. interesting that jan and sarah are both regenerates...
and taht he has no memory.
wonder waht happens to the Spartan when he finds out sarah has turned.

[Imperial Dragon]

Here's your next update, the first bit of chapter 14. not sure if ill write a second bit of this or go straight into 15 yet, so we'll see how it goes. Mushy filler material over, back into what i enjoy doing best: blood, death, gore, muck, death, blood and death. With new kit and a new recruit, The Ghosts are on their way to turn the tide of the UNA assault on Iceland. Read on, enjoy, post your opinions and ideas and stay tuned!

I'd also very much like to thank Darkness and the Mod Team for my medal. As I've said before, to get any kind of recognition for the work I do on PARIAH means the world to me, but coming from high command even more so. I'm very glad that I've done some service to the forum by writing this, and I hope you're all enjoying reading it as much as I am writing. Thankyou, and enjoy.





PARIAH

Chapter Fourteen - Blood On The Snow

Above Hólmavik, Iceland, EDC

The lights in the cabin switched off, followed by non-essential electrical systems as the transporter jet slipped into radio silence. The Icelandic coastline rose out of the sea like an ancient demon from its watery lair. Storm clouds rolled over the near-black waters and collected around the dark landmass, hurling torrents of snow and hail at the beleagured rock. The plane tore through the distant spiral arms of the storm as it approached, the gale force winds and turbulence shaking the armoured craft to its core. Through the grey swathes of cloud the sea opened up like spires of sheer rock, the water deathly cold. The aircraft dropped to a set altitude, far above the slowly lapping water. punching through the grey drifts like a quarrel fresh from a crossbow. Surtsey could now be seen, the first bulwark against the brutal weather. As the black basalt cliffs rose ever closer and Keflavik airbase appeared on the horizon the plane activated it's stealth camoflague and disappeared from view in a crackle of electrical interference.

The atmosphere inside the jet was tense as the team sat in silence, the howling wind outside echoing through the armoured metal hull. Eidur and Mikail already had their helmets on and had barely said a word throughout the journey. Lukas was checking his equipment methodically while Sascha and Gav discussed the battle ahead, fires already burning behind their eyes. Jan sat calmly, leant forward with fingers interlaced in front of his nose as usual, deep in concentration. Next to him, Sarah stared at the sealed cover that hid the window on the plane's exterior, lost in her own emotions. She felt scared and apprehensive, but longed for battle at the same time, simply leaving her frustrated with her own internal conflicts. Jan noticed, and laid a hand on hers.

"You going to be alright?"

Sarah looked back at him and smiled wryly. "I may not have killed as many people as you, but I've certainly got more messy. I'll be fine."

Jan grinned, then the red strip lights came on in the cabin. The invisible aircraft lanced over the icy landscape below as the rear doors slid open. The team were knocked forwards in their seats by the blast of freezing air that rushed into the jet's interior as it continued to accelerate. One by one the Ghosts unbuckled themselves from their seats and stood, gripping onto the leather loops hanging from the cabin ceiling as they moved towards the doors. They pulled their new helmets into place and slid down their visors, shutting out the wind. Sarah was the last to put her helmet on, stood behind Jan. The leftenant turned back towards the pilot's compartment as he neared the door, signalling the all clear as the team readied for their drop into the warzone. Sarah drew in a deep breath and stared into the swirling torrent of cloud that tore past the window. Jan gripped her shoulder and the recruit looked up her her leader, nothing visible beneath the black mirrored visor.

"You ready?"

Sarah laughed under her breath. "Sure. If anything goes wrong, I've got far less to worry about than any of you."

Jan nodded and depressed a panel on the back of his gauntlet. On his back a series of armour plates moved aside to reveal six vecotred thrusters. Another pair of thrusters appeared on the back of his ankles. Gripping the control panels within the fingers of his gauntlets, he allowed some fuel into the combustion chambers, the vents on the back of the thrusters glowing white and lifting him off the floor slightly. Relaxing and shaking the tension from his shoulders, he walked over to the exit to the plane. Sarah slid her helmet into place and dropped the visor, then crossed to the opposite door to Jan's. Her own jets opened and she gingerly tested them. With the first push, nothing emerged from the vents and she remained where she was, but with the second she shot into the air and hit her head on the doorframe, nearly knocking herself out of the aircraft. Breathing heavily, he reanchored herself on the now scorched floor and prepared for the jump. The rest of the team activated their jets and took their positions. The commlinks between their helmets opened up and Jan's face appeared in the corner of their visors.

"Better tech or not, this is the same as any other drop. My position will show up on your visual display with a green marker as usual as we go, so try and stay with me and regroup on me when we land. When the warning message comes up on your visor hit the retros and draw rifles. As ever, try to hit the ground running, not falling, I doubt Mika want's to be carrying some idiot with two broken legs around all day. The stabilisers in the suits should help you steer but it's not going to be easy dropping into a storm like this. Hell knows why there's snow and some hurricane thing over Iceland in spring, but make the most of it. We clear the area when we land and find the nearest confederacy army group and help them out. Remember, we're famous now, so don't cock about." With that, he kicked off and dived through the door, plunging like a stone into the storm. Sarah watched him fall and hesitated. A hand rested on her shoulder. The man behind her nodded behind his visor and gently nudged her towards the door. The slate on his left shoulder had the words 'L.FRITZ' etched into it in gold type. Sarah's fears evaporated, and drawing in another deep breath she allowed herself to be enveloped by the roiling waves of white cloud.

She opened her eyes. The wind was hammering against her body as she plummeted towards the ground. The rest of the squad would be invisible if not for the markers on her visor, the other stromtroopers disappearing into the maelstrom. Her core body temperature dropped, despite the regulator coils in her suit. Huge gusts of air buffeted her from either side, twisting her off course first one way, then the next. Eventually she gave up trying to steady herself with her vectoring jets and simply allowed herself to slip into freefall. Her world became a blur of twisting white, grey and black swirls of light and darkness the storm casting her about like a rowing boat caught in a typhoon. It seemed as though she would be stuck in the madness of the clouds forever. Finally she punched through the bottom of the towering cumulonimbus cloud and rocketed towards the ground. She could see three other blue figures ahead of her, their heads pointed towards the ground like arrows, hurtling through the air with practiced precision. The last few drifts of cloud slid back, revealing the icy plains of the earth below.

Below her lay a barren landscape, completely comprised of snow, ice and bare black rock. The frozen ground was littered with a sea of corpses, as dark as the frozen water before them. White and blue armour alike gave the scene a dappled effect, as through the battle took place on a decaying ice sheet. Blushes of red fire were snuffed out by the dirivng snowfall in seconds, like flowers caught by the onrush of winter. Bullets and shells were traded as the storm raged around them, and one by one the Ghosts hurtled towards no-man's land.

As he neared the ice, Jan slid his rifle free from its harness at his side. Gripping the butt of the weapon and the thruster control panels at the same time, he somersaulted in mid-air, righting himself with his boots pointing at the ground. He clenched his fists and the jets activated, His retro thrusters all but halted his descent in a heartbeat, leaving him free to crash into the snow with relative ease. The fires from his back carved a crater of melted snow and ice as he landed, shrouding the armoured giant in an aura of steam. The ground shook under the impacts as the other Ghosts came to earth with a thunderous rapport from their engines and boots. The steam cleared, revealing the seven stromtroopers, arms at the ready, staring definatly at the grim jaws of the UNA army. As one, they hefted their weapons, powered up their frontal shields and charged towards the sea of white armoured men, roaring a battlecry as the EDC army behind them erupted into cheers.

Ghost Team charged headlong into the UNA vanguard flank. Jan, Eidur and Mikail dived to cover behind a series of craggy outcrops of stone that poked out through the snow, firing short burts from their assault rifles, cutting down the startled UNA marines in a hail of magnetised bullets. Gav stood off to one side, firing a hail of grenades into the heart of the fray. Severed limbs and head exploded into the air as the landscape was again briefly lit by a dwindling fireball. Lukas threw himself to his left, landing face down in the snow on a small hillock. He activated his camoflague and disappeared into the blizzard, his presence only marked by the deadly effects of his sniper rifle as he pinpointed and executed the enemy squad leaders. As the men took cover and laid down suppressing fire, Sarah and Sascha drew their blades and barreled towards the enemy lines. Sascha's wristblades glistened with almost ethereal energy, the usual crackling electrical discharge no more than a wisp amidst the snowstorm. Sarah slid her bastard sword free from it's scabbard and flicked it through the air as she charged, her powerful legs allowing her to easily accelerate past her hispanic comrade. The grenades stopped falling and the gunfire slowed as both women dived screaming towards their nearest targets.

Sarah swung her blade into the first man's head with sickening force. The sword came straight out of his other temple, coated in blood, snow and nerve tissue. The soldier next to her took a bullet from Eidur in the chest and doubled over, only to be cut down as Sarah's follow through slit his throat open. The first man slid to the floor, his helmet rolling in the snow and the lower half of his brain revealed for all to see. Flicking her wrist around and bringing the blade back over her head, she sliced through the next marine's chest then tore the weapon free, sending fragments of rib bone skittering into the snow. Turning, she stabbed another dying marine in the face, then threw her sword through the next man in front of her's chest. He dropped to his knees as Sarah charged towards him, the sonic pulse activating and blasting his surrounding comrades away. She leapt towards the wounded man, landing with her feet on his shoulders. She pulled the swords free, kicked off and flung herself into the next group of enemies.

Sascha ran into the press, or at least hwere the press had been. In seconds the new squad member had cleared a gaping hole in the UNA ranks, her victims laying sliced open on the compacted ice. Vivid red lifeblood ran freely over the white snow. This wasn't the assassin that had stabbed her weeks earlier, this was someone new. Just as fats, just as strong, just as lethal in every way but more focussed, as though this was something that had to be done rather than something that she wanted to do. Granted, she was good at it, but this was by no means the bloodthirsty slaughterer that 101 had been. Sascha was stirred from her thoughts as a bullet snicked past her helmet. She turned to see a much older marine charging at her, his bayonet raised for a killing strike. She sighed and lashed out with her right forearm. The energised blade cut upwards through the bayonet, through the rifle, through the man's neck and into clear air, decapitating him in one blow. She dropped onto her haunches and charged away from Sarah's path, mowing into a separate set of marines.

Jan and the rest of the Ghosts rose from their concealed positions and began to advance. The EDC front line had wiped out the enemy's forward armour and was now driving the vanguard back. In one move seven men had changed the tide of the battle and did not have a scratch to show for it. The war was by no means over and they knew that this forward detatchment was only the beginning, despite the casualties that it had managed to inflict. Still, the UNA numbers in front of them were dwindling at a comfortable rate and the confederate defenders' morale was gaining in strength. Jan had barely even seen the men that he was now assisting but he knew that the mere sight of the stormtroopers' arrival and the knowledge that their reinforcements were newly crowned heroes had lifted their spirits. He smiled to himself under his helmet. One in one hundred to one in one million all over the space of one mission, it was all so surreal. He lifted his rifle scope to his eye and brought down a few more UNA marines as he strode through the snow towards the mess that his close-combat warriors had created.

Sarah swung her weapon around her again, cleaving two more marines and disarming a third. Blood, entrails and severed body parts littered the floor around her as she span, ducked and weaved, leading a dance of death through the exhausted enemy ranks. She couldn't remember how many she had killed, or where her teammates were, only that she was fighting well. Just then a rifle butt smacked her in the back of her head and she was left sprawled face down in the snow. Her helmet was knocked free by the impact and rolled away in front of her, stopping under an UNA marine's boot. Instinctively she rolled over, only to be greeted with the rifle that had hit her's barrel being shoved into her mouth. Before she could cry out the marine that stood over her pulled the trigger. An explosion of blood cascaded from Sarah's mouth and the man removed the rifle, standing over the woman and the pool of blood that he had just created. After a couple of seconds Sarah's eyes snapped back open and she spat the bullet back out, then hauled herself to her feet. The battle raged on around her, but he had been cut off by a ring of twenty marines, all training their weapons on her in shock, anger and fear. Slowly she straightened and looked her aggressor in the eye.

"This is not the cleverest thing you've ever done." She snapped.

The man chuckled under his breath. "I dont care how tough you think you are, any of the boys from first company could shrug off a bullet like you just did but you went and bit off more than you could chew. You're surrounded and we know the sweet spots for people like you."

"I bet you say that to every girl you meet. Both of them, if we're counting your mother and your whore."

The marine faltered for a second, then glared back at Sarah. "There's twenty of us and one of you, don't make this any messier than it has to be. Just sit down and die, bitch."

Sarah folded her arms in a mock thinking pose. "Hmm, twenty on one. Let's even those odds up, shall we?" In a blur of motion she flicked her arms up and slid both shortswords free from their sheaths on her back. Before the marines could fire, she activated the cloaking system on her armour and swords and dived towards the edge of the ring. The first UNA soldier died in seconds, his throat hacked open and arterial blood splattering into the frozen air. The men either side of him then fell, stabbed through their hearts by the invisible killer. The remaining marines flailed wildly around themselves, firing their weapons randomly in the vain hope of catching Sarah with a lucky bullet or swinging their knives around in desperation. Some even forwent both other options and tried to flee, but one by one the marines were cut to the blood stained ground as Sarah darted between them, unseen. As the penultimate marine dropped to his knees, a sword embedded in his groin, Sarah deactivated her camolflague and stood to face the man that had adressed her in the first place. Their little arena was now all but empty. "There, I think that's more fair now, don't you?" She asked, a quizzical smile crossing her lips. She kicked the kneeling man in the head without a backward glance, breaking his skull in and leaving his to bleed to death on the floor. She then drew her second blade back out from his genitals, cleaned both swords and slid them back into their scabbards. Swaggering, she stepped forwards towards the last man standing. He was shivering with fear, completely immobile in the face of what was to come. She stuck her face right in front of his and grinned at him, the other marines continuing heir own personal struggles around them, oblivious. "Still think that shooting me in the mouth was a good idea?" The man trembled and shook his head in silence. Sarah smiled warmly. "Well then, since you've been good and got that sorted in that littl head of yours, I think you deserve a little magic trick to cheer you up."

The trembling continued unabated, but he just managed to form some words. "Ww..w.ww.ww.w.wwwwhat do you mean?" He stuttered, his face turning blue with the cold and fear.

Sarah braced one hand against the man's shoulder, then reached forward and gently gripped the middle of his face with her other gauntlet. "Got your nose!" She said, and pulled.

[Lemartes]

Lol, "got your nose" *rip*

Almost as good as Jokers disapearing pencil magic trick...

[Jinxie]

:eek:
dead people.



*wants loveydovey stuff back*

[ajrk32]

Cries for joy

[Mali32]

That was awesome. Just read the whole thing in a few hours and cant wait for more. Its just fantastic.

[Imperial Dragon]

Well, this has taken a hell of a long time to write, what with homework and revision and all, so I aplogise for that. Hopefully I should have the first part of chapter 15 done tomorrow and up for you to see. I've also edited all the spelling mikstakes out of the first 13 chapters, so I'll edit the posts with those in too tomorrow if i can. In the meantime, however, enjoy this next little section and watch this space!



***

The UNA vanguard was splintered in minutes. The Ghosts came to earth on the rocky high ground covering the army's left flank and took the advancing marines by surprise. The ranged weapon specialists laid down a withering hail of fire, cutting down those marines that had presented themselves with ruthless and methodical precision. As the UNA flank faltered the two close combat warriors hit home. The close-knit ranks of marines were cut apart by the sudden ferocity of Sascha and Sarah's onslaught, the more distant soldiers unable to draw a bead on their targets through the press. By the time they had managed to clear a firing line they were themselves under attack, dispatched with merciless ease. The Ghost's attack hit with pinpoint precision, throwing the UNA line into disarray. With the storm troopers punching into the left flank the EDC defenders were motivated, concentrating their fire on the enemy armour. The vanguard structure disintegrated and the remainder of the marines were routed. The EDC were left to count their casualties and prepare for the true storm to come. Far away, through the crackling white clouds and the drifts of snow, the north-west coast of the island was alive with activity. One by one the giant submarine transporters of the UNA navy came crashing ashore. Rank after rank of armoured personnel carriers and tanks rolled out from the cavernous interiors of the massive ships as the UNA assault began in earnest.

The EDC lines erupted into cheers as the marine scouts fled, the hastily prepared defenders finally able to relax. With the Ghosts' help they had repelled the first wave of the American assault forces before their reinforcements could arrive and given both themselves and their commanders some breathing space. The storm troopers regrouped and headed back for the shelter of the EDC lines, dusting themselves down and checking for injuries. The Europeans had sustained heavy casualties despite the small scale of the force that they had faced and the mood behind the barricades was as sombre as it was relieved. As Jan and the others strode back through their allied ranks, unscathed, they were greeted by as many slaps on the back and as much applause as they were glares and angry muttering. The storm trooper corps were still treated with disdain by some of the rank and file EDC infantry, just as any elite unit would be and doubtless much of the static force present in Iceland would consider the 'fly boys' nothing more than an arrogant hindrance, swooping in to save the day.

The Ghosts finally reached the tactical relay centre at the back of the EDC army, high command's control area for the whole operation. As the ranks of European guardsmen thinned they could see the EDC's reserves arriving, columns of tanks and men from Reykjavik and the mainland. Reserve carriers were on their way, but Iceland's own contingent were currently fighting their constant battle of attrition with the UNA navy over the Atlantic ocean. With the storm surrounding the island growing ever fiercer and a north Atlantic winter arriving in late spring, the naval fortress that Iceland had become was cut off from the rest of the world for a brief and deadly few days. Considering that it was the most advanced superpower on the planet, the EDC was getting a knack for being on the back foot. Still, the first minor victory of the campaign had been won, despite the cost and even as the UNA mobilised on their now uncontested beachhead the blue ranks of the confederate army grew ever stronger. Lines of barricades and trenches dug into the ice ran across the European end of the valley, manned by rank upon rank of guardsmen. Dispersed amongst them stood large heavy weapon emplacements, mostly heavy machine guns for slicing through the advancing enemy infantry. Behind them towered the heavy armour of the confederate detachment. Devastator-class heavy tanks, each fitted with a variety of high-power ordnance from explosive shells to particle beams to subjugation arrays, their tracks replaced by thick rubber tires, coated in steel chains for extra grip in the snow. As the defenders ranks dispersed, the latest arrivals came into view. A series of both offensive and defensive artillery batteries, shield generators and communications arrays stuck up into the hazy sky like spires. Behind them, the icy plains lay bare, disturbed only by the slow rumble of the new convoys.

The other Ghosts followed Jan as he ducked inside one of the marquee-like tents at the back of the army, the heavy fabric still flapping violently in the storm winds despite the pegs anchoring it to the floor and the metal fibres running through it. Inside the tent was buzzing with tension. Civilian aides ran to and fro across the icy floor, collecting computer readouts and relaying orders from the commanders. Field computer banks hummed, displaying real time images of the UNA advance and the progress of their own reinforcements. In the centre of the room, the communications relay stabbed upwards through the fabric ceiling like a tree that the rest of the construct had been built around. As the storm troopers entered and the tent's occupants caught sight of them, the mood instantly changed. One of the commanders laid down his data slate and strode towards Jan, while the rest of the people inside the tent continued their work in complete silence. The lone officer grinned and shook Jan's hand warmly.

“Hell freezes over, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the western front. I hear that your arrival turned the tide for our lads out there, though I find it hard to believe that seven soldiers, however famous and well-equipped, could do that much damage in one strike. That said, I'm very glad that you did. My name is Commander Nardur Ingelsson and this rock is my responsibility, or at least, this bit is.”

“Always glad to be of service, Commander.” Jan replied. “Though I think you have Sarah to thank for most of the impact. She went barrelling into the enemy lines and only came back out, covered in blood when they sounded the retreat. This was her first mission and god knows how many she killed.”

The officer's smile faded slightly as he looked at Sarah. “Yes, the former assassin, I've heard of you. It's good to see some confirmation of who's side you're on.” He turned away from the Ghosts and motioned for them to follow him as he walked over to the comms unit. The storm troopers crowded around the small panel, its glass coated in a thin film of frost. Dancing across its surface were a series of blue and red dots, markers showing the locations of the UNA deployment and the EDC defences. Several large red rectangles covered sections of the coastline and the red haze in front of them was growing faster and faster, dwarfing the blue markers. Ingelsson sighed as he watched the display unfold. “This is what's coming for us. The president's throwing everything he has at this place, it's a vital foothold on the way to Britain and one that the UNA need to take. I've no idea why it's snowing in May, it should be dry as a bone, but the UNA are taking advantage or the storm to hit us hard and fast. The first company are deploying now, look.” He pointed at a small cloud of red marked with a number 1. “They're the UNA equivalent of your boys, except they don't have carriers. They have some special kind of training apparently that makes them that much harder to kill, I don't know what it is. For all I know the Americans are pumping them full of heroin and turning their skin to metal, but what I do know is that they're a bitch to put down. The men call them Ghouls, because they keep coming at you with missing body parts and scars all over them. You can shoot their eyes out and they'll keep coming.” He sighed and shook his head. “God knows what's going to happen when the main force hits.” He turned back to the team, the grim smile returning to his face. “You've had a hard fight, get some sleep. We'll need you at your best tomorrow.” With that, he bade the squad farewell and returned to his duties.

After another hour or so of wandering through the barricades, the team eventually found their resting place for the night. Tired and battered, they collapsed in their little snow hollow behind a reinforced steel barricade, sheltering under the metal as the driving snow returned anew. The guardsmen either side of them ignored their presence, continuing on with whatever activities they concerned themselves with. Sarah leant her back against the steel and began to clean her swords. As she did so, she felt Jan's looming shadow pass over her.

The lieutenant was silent for a few seconds before he spoke. “You ran off.” He snapped. Sarah looked back up at him, puzzled. “Look, you either want to be a part of this team or you don't. No one takes it upon themselves to be a hero, we work together, as a group. You went off to do your own thing and nearly got yourself killed. I don't care what special abilities you have, that's not how we act.”

Sarah's face darkened, her eyes mirroring the storm above them. “I didn't nearly get killed, I took them all down. I can't even remember how many I killed. How am I meant to serve my purpose under these rules?”

“The rules are there for everyone, regardless of circumstance. As long as I'm your leader, you'll follow my orders. Don't go charging off again, you stick with Sascha.”

She nodded, but continued to glower at the lieutenant even as the silence returned and the team turned back to their individual discussions. After a while, Jan came to sit next to Sarah, and nudged her hand slightly. “Was there any need for that, really?” She asked.

“Yes. I need to show the rest of them that we're a team, and that we work together.” He paused for a second. “On top of that, I don't want to lose you.” They smiled at one another as the tension evaporated. “How's your memory?”

“Leaching back, little by little.” She stopped, a faint flicker of realisation crossing her mind. “But there was something. The man who hit me, he said the 1st company marines could shrug off a bullet like I could, he didn't seem surprised when I regenerated.”

Jan frowned, considering the possibilities. “And the Commander said the men called them Ghouls. Do you think they could have something to do with your old masters?”

“I don't know, maybe, maybe its just a coincidence, but he did talk about sweet spots. I remember those. They're the specific places you have to shoot one of us in order to kill us, dead, shut off the regeneration.”

“You think the Americans know about them?”

Sarah turned her eyes downwards, deep in thought. “It seems so, but how could they know about me?” She shook her head. “This next battle is going to reveal something, but I don't know what yet. Maybe this 1st company have the answer, but I can't shake the feeling that something bigger is on the way. I can feel my life catching up with me. The storm comes.” She fell silent. Jan gripped her hand gently with his gauntlet, and she squeezed his hand in return, the snow battering the metal defences surrounding their safe little world.

[Mali32]

Very good imp. The ghouls sound ... interesting. Can't wait for more.

[ajrk32]

hmm. the ghouls better be tough enough to kill some people or put em out of action, or else this will start to get repetitive, if the ghosts were unstoppable.

[Cordova]

Bets on it being a brother.

If Lukas dies I'm boycotting you Imp :P . He's like Alan Rickman in my head.

Awesome shiz. Keep it up.

[Imperial Dragon]

Quick turn around, got some free time and this is a shorter chapter so I thought I'd get it out of the way while I could. I'll be editing the rest of the story to get rid of spell checking tonight or tomorrow morning, so that'll just be edits of previous posts, no new stuff. I think this is roughly the midway point, I hope, so for now enjoy the new stuff, keep posting your comments and a new update soon!




PARIAH

Chapter Fifteen – Allegiance

One by one the masters strode into the council chamber in silence. At the far end of the room The Spartan was seated as usual at the head of the grand table, his giant armoured arms resting on the wooden surface. His hood was raised over his black metal helmet, completely concealing his face. The heavy metal door at the front of the room slid shut with a crash. The man remained motionless as the rest of the council took up their seats and looked towards him expectantly, all but one. Pariah 02, The Scourge, was not present at their meeting. The other four masters remained in silence, waiting as the torches on the wall continued to flare and crackle warmly, contrasted to the generally frozen atmosphere inside the chamber. The minutes rolled by. Eventually, The Ecstasy was the first to address the group.

“Was Two summoned?”

The Spartan did not move, his deep voice echoing out from under the hood, through the metal grill that covered his mouth. “He will be here. This concerns all of us.”

03 lounged back in her seat and put her boots up on the desk, the chair rocking on its hind legs. She put her hands behind her head in a classic relaxation pose. “In your opinion. These ‘vital’ meetings rarely concern me or my staff. Maybe Scourge has decided he can’t be bothered either.”

“You have something better to be doing?” The Spartan snapped.

“Yes, as it happens. Harley’s been developing a new narcotic for me and we’ve found a new test subject. Hung like a horse.” She grinned and slapped the woman next to her on the back. The chamber slipped back into an awkward silence for a few more minutes, 04 becoming more impatient by the second.

Eventually his rage boiled over. “Do we really have to wait for the rotting one? Can’t we just get this over with?”

As The Spartan prepared to speak again, the main door slid open again, revealing a lone figure of shadow, backlit by the torches in the corridor behind him. Slowly, he walked into the room, the sound of grinding bones and tearing flesh accompanying every movement. The door slammed closed once again, the man’s very presence in the room seeming to make the torch light weaker and the shadows creep closer in. The Scourge did not take his seat, instead choosing to stand at the opposite end of the table to 01, staring down at the master at the head of their council. His gloved hands slammed down onto the table and he maintained his gaze, the room remaining silent. In his right hand he held a thin metal data slate. The atmosphere remained constant as 01 waited for the other master to be seated.

When the desired action was not forthcoming, The Spartan spoke, still motionless. “Take a seat, brother.”

A rasping chuckle emanated from under The Scourge’s hood. “I think I’ll stand for now, brother. I’d like to hear which topic you’ve chosen for today’s discussion.”

His anger subsiding, 01 cleared his throat to address the rest of the council. “As you know, the mission to eliminate Minister Sobczak was a success. Our officer reached him in time and the USIA spy fell to his death from the upper levels of the Palace of Culture and Science in Warsaw. Unfortunately, we still have not regained contact with officer 101 and we must now assume the worst.”

The chuckling resumed and all heads turned towards the figure stood at the opposite end of the table. There was a slight pause before he spoke. “Master Spartan. I make my craft from death, despair and terror, so you might be forgiven for thinking that a sense of humour is not a regular component of my day, and you would probably be right. Still, that was funny.”

The Spartan’s fist slammed into the table, the ancient oak buckling under the strain. “Remember your place, Scourge. Whatever you have to share with us, out with it.”

The Scourge continued to smile, the glint of white teeth and bone flashing from under the hood. In one fluid motion he slid the data slate onto the centre of the table, the smooth metal spinning as it moved. When it came to rest, The Scourge strode purposefully around the table and sat down in his usual position as the data slate projected a hologram into the dark space above the council table. The shadows were cast back as a grainy monochrome image floated before the council's eyes. It showed a large open area that looked like the entrance hall to a museum, full of European soldiers. A group of men clad in medic's uniforms were carrying stretchers, five storm troopers laying prone on the canvas. As the video played, a shape emerged from the central stairwell of the lobby, a sixth trooper with a dark figure draped over his shoulder. The tall man's long blonde hair was matted with the blood that dripped from his temple and he was climbing the stairs with a pronounced limp. As he entered the lobby, he shrugged the body from his shoulder and carefully laid it down on the waiting stretcher. As he did so, the camera zoomed in on the body and the video feed was paused. The woman's face filled the screen, her head lolling onto her left shoulder. A small section of the image was magnified to take up half of the screen, detailing the thin black tattoo on her neck. The numbers 101 were now clearly visible. The woman's pale skin was heavily scarred and burnt and her silver hair was blackened by the fires, but despite the damage she was easy to identify.

The three masters seated around him turned to look at 02 as the video paused. 01 turned his gaze downwards. The Scourge pointed with a thin hand at the image before them as he spoke. “This is our missing officer, 101, as observed from a security camera inside the EDC headquarters in Warsaw. As you can see, she is unconscious and has suffered serious burns to all visible areas of skin. Her regeneration appears to be much slower, if present at all. This would suggest that she has somehow both been separated from her injection system and had the drugs in her body destroyed. The only source of the burns and the loss of control functionality apparent to me is that she was struck by some kind of powerful electrical discharge. That said, it would have had to have hit her at the exact point of the boundary between injector and cranial bloodstream. When she regains consciousness, if she does, her regeneration may return, it may not, but either way she will no longer be under our direct control if she survives.”

The data slate video spooled on, the Palace interior fading away to be replaced by drifts of snow. The video feeds swung from side to side, signifying that the source of the footage was a living creature. White-armoured shapes could just be made out amidst the snow, thought the low quality of the film made it difficult to see anything. Blue flecks could faintly be seen in the distance and the man who's helmet camera the council were viewing raised a snow-pattern camouflage rifle to his eye and fired off a fresh clip at his targets. A tank exploded off to his right and he was thrown to the floor. Shaking his head and throwing the camera off kilter, he picked himself back up again, only to be greeted by a series of thundering crashes from his other side. The Scourge paused the feed again. “This is the video and audio feed from a UNA marine sergeant's helmet comms system. He's part of the UNA assault on northern Iceland and is at the very front line of their vanguard force. The assault force proper is still disembarking so this scout force is trying to hold up the EDC defenders.” The tape ran on again, showing the vanguard's order slowly disintegrating as grenades and rifle shells rained down amongst them from much closer than before and with much greater accuracy. Something crashed into the right flank of the scout force and the sergeant could be seen to move with renewed urgency, gathering his men around him. Finally a heavily armoured blue shape came charging out of the press, swinging a sword around it with a strange fusion of blind aggression and skill. The sergeant pivoted and slammed the butt of his rifle into the back of the EDC storm trooper's head, knocking it's helmet free. The sergeant stood over the figure as it rolled onto its back, revealing its face. The video feed froze once again.

In the centre of the screen the same woman's face was magnified for clarity. The burns had healed but it was easy to recognise the face. Gone were her black and silver robes and leather, replaced by the heavy plate armour of the EDC's finest. “And here she is again.” 02 said, not bothering to mask the cynicism in his voice. “Our missing officer, clearly drug free and fighting for the EDC.” The tape continued to play, showing the sergeant shooting 101 in the mouth to no effect. “Her regeneration is intact,” The tape continued as she stood up and began to slaughter the circle of marines around her. “and she has obviously lost none of her talent.” The tape stopped as the woman strode towards the camera, her silver eyes shining baleful vengeance down the lens at her former masters. The hologram disappeared and the data slate deactivated. The Scourge flexed his spine and leant forwards onto the table. “So, it would seem that what we have created is a rogue weapon, still utilising all the assets that each of our officers has at their disposal but with a clear head and free of our control. I am assuming that her memory is still in fragments due to the Null Tank conditioning and prolonged exposure to the narcotic, or she would either already be knocking our door down or deep in hiding. That said, she is still a very serious threat to our efforts to contain the EDC. To make things even worse, the UNA 1st company has just disembarked and is on its way to meet the EDC at the end of the coastal valley that the events on the video took place in. Her memory may be broken, but certain experiences may jolt the repair of that memory. If she fights the 1st company she could well trigger total recall.” The room slipped back into silence as the masters considered the matter at hand. The Harlequin was the first to speak.

“How did you come by this information, Scourge? If you don't mind me asking.”

His sinister grin returned once again. “That's the really interesting bit. This was in a file sent to my personal computer, coded as top secret and for the master of the sector's eyes only. When I opened it, enclosed was a letter addressed to our devoted leader, 01, ensuring him that the information was exclusive to him, as he had requested, and that none of the rest of the council would know about 101's fate. It seems your lackey pressed the wrong button, Spartan.”

The council turned to stare at their head as one. The Spartan had said nothing since the presentation had begun, and even now remained still. 05 sighed and shook her head, confused. “Why did you feel the need to hide this from us, One?”

The Scourge interjected, his usually placid tone gaining added momentum, almost turning giddy. “Because not only has he lost an elite officer and allowed her to desert, but he knows who she's now with.”

03 perked up as she realised the implications. “Iceland...Ghost team?”

“Precisely, sister.”

The Spartan still did not move as the Ecstasy continued. “She's with Taylor.” She paused, racking her brain for more connections. “If she does remember, and if we're right...”

01's armour plates creaked as he straightened, taking a deep breath as he prepared his response. “Then it would mean disaster for us all.”

One by one, he rest of the council nodded their agreement. “All personal grudges aside, brother, what would you have us do?” 02 asked.

The Spartan leant back in his seat and flexed his arms nonchalantly. “We kill her.”

05 was the next to respond. “She was one of you're finest, brother, one of your own creations.”

“And now she threatens the very integrity of the order that I am sworn to protect. She dies, before she can impart what she knows to her new comrades.” 01 pushed back his chair and stood. “Betrayer, see to it.”

The red-robed assassin stood from his seat, bowed, and left the room. The Harlequin followed him, then the Scourge. 02 stood in front of The Spartan before he left, staring into the darkness beneath the much larger man's hood, his posture conveying his rivalry and contempt, then strode after 05. Finally, the Ecstasy rose from her seat as 01 turned to leave. She laid a hand on the metal plates that covered his arm and he stopped next to her. His breath hissed between the slits in his helmet grill as he looked down at the other master, her eyes unusually clear and calm.

“If 101 remembers, do you really think he'll come back?”

The Spartan turned away. “If we're right, yes.”

“But you see this as a bad thing.”

“Of course I do. All we know is what father tells us, and those teachings tells us exactly why we should dread his return.”

“The teachings have been wrong before.”

A hint of anger crept into The Spartan's voice. “That is not our place to say.” He sighed. “None of us knew him, what cause do we have to anticipate him?”

“He's one of us.”

01 turned and gripped the woman's shoulders tightly in his armoured grasp. “No. He isn't. You know full well why we were created. How do you think he would react if he knew our purpose?”

“I think he would welcome us.”

“We are tools of the very system he fled from, cheaply manufactured imitations of the genuine article. He would destroy us in a heartbeat.”

“You don't know that, you don't know why he left, no one does.”

The Spartan released 03, bowed his head, then turned to leave. “He made his choice. He's dead. He's not coming back.”

[Cordova]

:eek:

Twisty...
Methinks is good ja?

Keep it up Imp :)

[Lemartes]

WOW... that is all...

[Imperial Dragon]

The thread has now been updated with every story post edited to remove spelling errors. There have also been a few slight modifications to structure but nothing has changed within the story itself. If you see any errors still there in the posts, pm me with the excerpt and I'll set it right.

The next update should be with you by tomorrow night, hopefully, if I get some free time :D The thread's now passed 1500 views and we're heading towards 150 posts, which is an immense achievement so thankyou to everyone who's kept and eye out for PARIAH. If you're interested, the story is so far at 73 A4 pages on MS Word after formatting, numbering just under 56000 words and I'm expecting it to end up at between 30 and 40 chapters :D

So again, thankyou for all your support and watch this space for chapter 16!

[ajrk32]

COOL!
cant wait for more is "he" the president?

[Imperial Dragon]

is "he" the president?

Oh, I couldn't possibly say :D

[Morr]

Oh but thats some good stuff there. Damn good.

[Imperial Dragon]

Sorry about how long it's taken me to get this next section done...so...much...work... But anyway, here it is, and I'll do my best to get new updates to you ASAP but as is expected with revision time in full swing i dont have anywhere near as much free time. I'm aiming for around two updates a week, if i can. So yes, thankyou again for all your patience, praise and support, and enjoy the start of chapter 16!




PARIAH

Chapter Sixteen – Of Ghosts And Ghouls

The EDC army awoke at dawn as the first alarm sirens began to cast their screeching clamour across the snow-covered ranks. The rising sun could barely be seen through the swirling storm clouds and the tides of snow that they spewed forth. As sentries ran the length of the barricades, shouting orders and warnings, the squad leaders rallied their men and slowly the confederate defenders moved into position. Blue polymer armour could be seen all the way along the mouth of the valley, rapid-firing rifles poking through gaps in the jagged barricades. The heavy weapon emplacements that studded the defences were mounted, their operators testing their shields and loading systems. The guardsmen's translucent visors showed fear in some places, in others excitement, in others simply fatigue but in all of the men showed a grim determination in the face of the fight to come. The heavy vehicles powered up, the tank commanders swinging their craft's primary weaponry around to face seawards and checking their prow deflectors. The artillery dropped their stabilising legs as their gunners punched in the safety codes, sighting their first firing lanes of the day as behind them shells were selected and slid into position on the magnetic loading clamps. The sirens continued to wail as the EDC readied themselves for war.

Jan woke with a start, the siren above him blasting noise into his head before the dampers in his helmet could soften the blow. As his eyes flickered open he could see running boots stamping the snow flat before him. He gradually became aware of a weight pressing on his left shoulder. He tilted his head to see the top of Sarah's helmet, the other trooper resting against him and sound asleep. She twitched as she slept , whispering under her breath. As Jan shifted and hauled himself to his feet, Sarah's head slipped from his shoulder as he moved and she landed face down in the snow for the second time in a day. As she hit the floor she snapped awake, flinching away from the floor like a cat away from water. As she landed on her feet, she flicked both short swords from the sheaths on her back in a single movement. Her breath came in short, panicked bursts as she looked around herself for an enemy that existed only within her own mind. The rest of the team were now awake and stared at their newest member in confusion as she gradually calmed down. Relaxing, she slid the blades back into the sheaths and took her helmet off, running a hand through her silver hair and breathing deeply.

She looked across at Jan. His posture suggested the concern evident on his face despite the mirrored visor. She shrugged. “Nightmares.”

One by one the team took their places at the barricade. They had been positioned on the fifth row from the front, directly in the centre of the formation. Their barricade was built on an embankment of compressed snow and ice, giving them a commanding view of the battlefield. Jan looked down at the ranks in front of him with regret. It was clear to see that the first four rows of the EDC army were intended as a temporary countermeasure, a speed bump to slow the advancing UNA marines down with nothing more than dead meat while the true confederate army fought them back. The Ghosts were to be the leaders of this primary force. To their left and right the army's grenadiers stood firm, ready to hold the line. Their short-ranged carbines with underslung shotguns and grenade launchers were held at the ready behind the heavy metal defences. These elite guardsmen were trained and equipped specifically to hold defensive sites and stood in their ranks in complete silence behind their external respirators, contrasted with the relative relaxation of the supposedly more elite storm troopers. Beyond the grenadier unit either side of the Ghosts stood an armoured heavy weapon emplacement. Both gunners were piloting large high-calibre heavy machine guns, their magnetised barrels capable of hurling a river of hot metal into the advancing marines and tearing through bone, flesh and armour with relative ease. Beyond them, the grenadier's ranks stretched away into the swirling snowstorm.

The storm continued on out on the plains in front of them. Jan strode over to the barricade and leant on it, peering out into the snow to see what it was that had triggered the alarm. He could just about make out swirling shapes through the torrents of white. As he squinted into the storm, Lukas tapped him on the shoulder and offered him the extra sensory apparatus that was clamped onto the outside of his helmet. Jan fitted the leather cradle onto his own head, then slid the secondary visor down over his face. He was taken aback by what he saw. Slowly advancing towards them under the cover of the storm was a colossal tide of heat signatures. Soldiers and tanks slowly ground forward, the waves of red images rippling towards them. Lukas reached over again and flicked a switch on the side of the visor. This resulted in the far side of the image turning a purple-orange colour, with a bright orange boundary just a few hundred metres in front of the EDC front line. The line was encroaching on the defenders steadily, marked in small orange type as 'ENEMY FIRING RANGE'.

Jan returned the sensors to the sniper as the rest of the Ghosts readied themselves. Relatively blind once again, relying on the limited thermal imaging in his helmet rather than Lukas’ more sophisticated scopes, Jan stared out across the snow drifts. The image of the creeping orange mass was still burnt into his mind. As the tension built he loaded his rifle and clicked the safety off. Just then his commlink crackled into life, commander Ingelsson’s voice cutting through the static.

“This is the big one, people.” he said. “The UNA advance must be broken here or Reykjavik’s next in line. Keep your heads down and take the shots where you can, at all costs prevent the marines from overrunning our position. Heavy weapon teams are tasked with destroying the enemy armour, coordinates will be routed into your weapons’ scanners. To the front ranks, you are our first line of defence. Give your all for our country and stop the American menace in its tracks. Grenadiers, support the front lines. Cut down the enemy as they advance, and in the event of a breach pick your targets carefully. Make every shot count. Remember, the Ghouls are expected to make an appearance, so when you see a marine wearing 1st company colours aim for the head.” The commander's voice faded away for a second, his advice spent. “Remember always that we are the first defence against America. We are Europe's shield. We are the defenders of every man, woman and child in this country, and the next, and the next, and throughout the rest of our confederacy. If we fail today, this war could well be over by Christmas, but we shall not fail. We are the EDC army. We are the greatest fighting force on this shattered planet, and today we are joined by the storm troopers of squad C084 – Ghost team.” Cheers rose up from the ranks of soldiers, building to a crescendo of shouting and the clash of weapons on armour as the army's morale rose. “We cannot fail. We are the defenders of freedom. Death to the invaders! Glory to the confederacy!” The roars reached fever pitch as the commander began issuing orders, satisfaction creeping into his tone as he saw the effect that his words had had on his forces. “Artillery crews, targets in range. Open fire.”

The crack of heavy ordnance shells being launched filled the air, the EDC's long range bombardment cannons targeting their UNA counterparts long before the opposition artillery made it into position. Propellant smoke blasted into the faces of the defenders on the high speed winds, the pollution tainting the air. Far off into the distance, the muffled explosions could be heard as the shells hit home, bright flashes of orange appearing for a second through the storm before being whisked away into the ether. The European lines drifted back into silence as the bombardment continued. Eventually, the noise increased in intensity as the UNA began to return fire with their surviving batteries. As they did, the defensive cannons at the rear of the EDC line activated, sending superheated lances of energy darting into the sky and shooting down the incoming projectiles in flight. The exchange continued on, the ferocity gradually weakening as the battle lines drew closer. The EDC still held their position, the American lines remaining invisible behind the glittering white shroud. Suddenly, without warning the assault began in earnest. Thunderous discharges shook the earth as the enemy assault vehicles opened fire. The defending army sprang into action as high explosive shells began to crash into the barricades, same of the shells landing over the top of the defences and exploding within the confined ranks themselves. Blood mixed with now in great spurts as severed limbs and pulped organs spun through the air. Anti-armour heavy weapons opened fire from the EDC lines towards their hidden aggressors, targeting data from the command relays pinpointing the enemy tanks through the storm.

Lukas was still watching proceedings through his double visor, observing the assault with unparalleled clarity with the high-powered thermal imaging cameras in his secondary scopes. Through the purple and orange scene the enemy vehicles rolled into position and continued their barrage, the artillery exchange all but halted. He flicked a couple more switches on the system's control panel then hefted his rifle onto his shoulder, activating the commlink in his headset as he did so.

“Sergeant Fritz, Ghost Team to Commander Ingelsson. Target sighted, repeat I have visual. Permission to fire?”

There was a second pause before the response came through. “Affirmative, Sergeant, shoot to kill.”

Lukas cut the commlink in silence and fired. A single round sparked from the end of his rifle, fizzing through the freezing air across the tundra towards a target that only he could see. Far ahead of them, the UNA army sprinted towards their enemy. At the head of their number ran a marine captain, holding a blaster pistol aloft with one hand and swinging a heavy sword with the other. He led his men onwards in the charge, crushing the snow flat beneath their heavy white boots. Just as he opened his mouth behind his visor to let loose a battle cry a lone sniper round snapped out of the swirling snowstorm ahead of him and hit him between the eyes. His skull shattered under the force of the high-calibre shot's impact, the bullet punching straight through into his brain and out of the back of his head before he could even register that he had been hit. The man crashed to the floor, his lifeblood running freely over the virgin snow. The Americans faltered but continued onwards, vengeance overwhelming the shock in their hearts and forcing them forward with fresh resolve. Lukas fired again and again, taking another seven marines down before he was forced to reload. As he ducked back behind cover he caught sight of the reaction from the front line of the confederate army. He looked up again and deactivated the second visor. Like spirits emerging from the mist, the white armour of the UNA marines could be seen through the storm for the first time, a wall of pale bodies backlit by the sun's reflection on the snow. The other Ghosts readied their own rifles and took aim at their new enemies as their commlinks all crackled into life at once.

“Commander Ingelsson to all units. Fire at will.”

[Cordova]

Definitely better than doing my work.
This fight sounds like it'll be a doozy. Keep it up.

Go go LUKAS!!

[Jinxie]

mmm need more on the relationship side tbh,
i know i keep saying this when we talk about it :wink:
and i know you said Jan wakes up with Sarah,
but if Sarah's character is based on me, then yeah :roll:

but anyway, im enjoying the developments,
im still having fun reading it,
just dont make your next instalment all fighting.
*yawn* :smt016

ps: if Sarahs nightmares are like mine then... *shudder* :\

see you at lunch tomorrrrrrrrow :smt015

[Morr]

How can the next chapter not be all about fighting they just engaged!! but yeah i wanna know more about the relationships too.

[Lemartes]

Great start to the chapter, looking forward to seeing how this fight turns out.

[ajrk32]

Love this so much!
big fight coming up, contrary to Angel, i think that a big fight may be just the thing to make the rest of th plot make an apperance. small things he maentioned about peoples relainonships will stand out and when we get back to politics it will seem very important. and egmatic

[Imperial Dragon]

Well, here we are again. Sorry about the wait, it's just been another manic week and things are only going to get worse. I'm still going to try and stick to my two updates per week thing, even if i left this last one abit late (the thread almost went off the first page of off topic!!). But yes, anyway, it's late on monday night and I've finally got the rest of chapter 16 finished. No lovvey stuff for you Angel, I'm afraid, that's all to come. For those of you that have been baying for blood, you get that by the truckload instead, then we're all set for an epic duel in chapter 17. Read on and enjoy!





The European lines erupted with a storm of precision volleys of rifle fire. The hail of bullets snapped out across no man's land towards the enemy positions, mixing a haze of deep red into the cascade of white. The UNA returned fire, continuing to advance as their own bullets and shells rained down amongst the defenders. Vehicles exploded, men twisted and fell as shards of metal punched into their bodies. In seconds the ordered ranks of men dissolved into a shattered melee of fire, pain and death. Lukas rose back above cover and continued to fire, the shots from his high-calibre sniper rifle killing with every squeeze of the trigger. Sarah added to his efforts with her own carbine, the smaller weapon causing less damage with each shot and at a reduced range, but causing heavy casualties amongst the American attackers just the same. Jan and the rest of the team simply tore away at their aggressors with their assault rifles, sending a torrent of metal spitting into the enemy ranks and killing more by sheer luck than precision.

The UNA army continued to advance steadily, slowly passing out of the storm and into visual range. It soon became clear that the Americans had come prepared this time. After the surprise of the initial volleys and the damage that they had caused, the UNA had closed ranks, their infantry pairing up. One of each pair crouched down and advanced slowly, holding a crude repulsion shield generator in front of them. The other member of the pair crouched behind the shield bearer, clutching a precision lance rifle. The shields soaked up the incoming confederate fire while the second team member took his chances to step out from behind the defences and return fire. The lance rifles fired a single, long range, highly accurate shot, functioning like an AI-assisted sniper rifle. Each shot hit it's mark with deadly effect. The damage caused by the defenders' volleys dropped as the UNA raised their defences, the bullets just bouncing away from the shields. The particle beam turret emplacements continued to hamper the American advance, the blasts of energy punching straight through the repulsion shields to vaporise the marine stood behind it. The desperate exchange continued as the marines advanced. The heavy armour from both sides was the first to be targeted, shrapnel and flame from the exploding vehicles' wrecks torn into the sky by the swirling winds, the sparks quickly snuffed out. The shattered hulks remained, sending columns of smoke and fire coiling into the sky as tongues of burning oil dripping out across the melting snow.

Jan ducked back down behind the barricade as a lance rifle shot snapped towards his head. He reloaded his rifle and moved to stand again, another shot whistling over the wall keeping him pinned down. The confederacy was taking a heavy toll on the advancing UNA, but at a heavy cost to their own side. Most of their vehicles had been laid to waste and the lines of infantry were now so close together that the artillery was practically useless, the heavy ordnance cannons resorting to battering the rear echelons of the UNA into submission. That said, the UNA strategy didn't make sense. They had their shields and fire power, they had the numbers, they had the EDC pinned. Why were they closing to this close a range? Surely it would be better to just wait where they were and grind the defenders down. He finally managed to stand back above the barricade and return fire, swearing as his shots deflected harmlessly from the repulsion shields. A few yards along the fortifications one of the heavy machine guns opened up again, sending a concentrated stream of bullets towards the marine in front of Jan. The shield held or a few seconds, deflecting the rounds away into the snow, then it finally gave. The marine was hurled backwards by the force as her shield exploded and the torrent of metal from the turret slammed into her chest, tearing her armour asunder and ripping deep into her flesh. The woman's tattered corpse crashed to the floor as the weapon continued to fire, reducing the marine sheltering behind her defences to a similar bloody pulp. Jan suddenly realised what was required.

“Ghosts!” he shouted over the clamour of war. “Focus your fire, overload their shields!”

The rest of the team nodded the affirmative. As one they raised their weapons, locking onto an advancing marine pair just in front of them with their helmet targeting systems. As she raised her head out of cover, a single stray bullet clattered against the side of Sascha's helmet, the impact knocking her off balance but causing no lasting damage. With a motioned order from the lieutenant the Ghosts opened fire. Five assault rifles let loose towards the nearest shield, a few seconds of continuous fire dropping the shield just as the turret had earlier. As soon as the deflectors fell, Jan waved his arm at the final two members of the team. Without a word, Lukas and Sarah fired. Each sniper fired a single round, felling both of the marines from behind the shield with cold precision. Jan grinned behind his visor and laughed, then stood again to direct his team towards their next target. As he did so, the drama unfolding before him changed. One by one, the UNA shields spluttered and died. The bright white energy fields faded away, revealing the marines beyond. Both sides had taken massive loses by this point,and now the EDC weaponry really began to hit home. As the power ebbed away, the marines sprinted for the European lines in unison. Many fell as the bullets and radiation weaponry tore through them, but the endless ranks of white-armoured marines continued onwards. The mounds of the dead built up, hot red blood spilling out onto the snow, but the gap between the UNA and EDC lines was far too small. Eventually, the first marines primed their bayonets and vaulted the first line of barricades, diving into what remained of the EDC front line in a frenzy of desperate stabbing.

Lukas and Sarah maintained their fire, felling the marines that they could draw sight to amidst the melee. The rest of the Ghosts slowed their volleys, only taking shots where they could be certain that they would not hit one of their own side. The UNA strategy finally became clear. Out in the open, on the snowfields, the marines were exposed and easy to slaughter. Once they closed in and got inside the fortifications themselves they were all but immune to enemy fire and could outnumber the confederate defenders, dismantling the EDC battle plan as they went. The primal brawl continued on, those guardsmen that were already engaged vainly holding off the Americans while the rest of their comrades retreated to higher ground. As the last of the beleaguered defenders fell the EDC lines opened up again, fresh volleys of bullets tearing into the men and women in the blood-stained pit below. The entire focus of the battle had now switched to the EDC trenches as more and more marines vaulted the barricades and swept onwards into the trenches. The confederate ranks were sealed and at each level the defenders desperately held the charging Americans back. It seemed as though the UNA charge would be broken on the cliffs of the Icelandic defences. The Ghosts, as well as the grenadiers that stood alongside them, unleashed volley after volley of precision rifle fire into their aggressors, Eidur and Mikail fighting with a frenzy that Jan had never seen in them before. Blue and white armour alike littered the floor as the snow continued to pile up, the colours mixing with the bright red that signified the terrible loss of life that day.

The American advance began to slow. They had taken the first three trenches and reinforcements were still piling into the breaches but the momentum was ebbing away, the forerunners of the charge either held at bay behind walls of steel or slain. Tendrils of optimism began to creep into Jan's mind as he watched and fired. The UNA were breaking themselves apart on the European defences and had thus far only managed to take control of the first few trenches. The plan was working. Even as the thought of victory became tangible it was swept away like the fires that burned out in the snowstorm, a thundering crash emerging from out of the swirling white. Rows of armoured personnel carriers, thick white plate armour covering their prows tore out of the snow and came crashing through the remains of the forward barricade. Each vehicle had an enclosed turret on the top of the hull, which opened fire as they ground to a halt, spitting fire and death into the ranks of defenders. Each vehicle was coloured with the same brilliant white paint, a single black letter 'I' printed on the front of the craft, extending the full height of the prow. The vehicles were suddenly obscured as smoke launchers on the front of the craft disgorged their contents. All eyes turned to the transports, the marines cheering as the battlefield rang with the crash of falling metal, the bulkhead doors on the front of the vehicles slamming to the floor. Like an army of ancient sentinels the UNA marines 1st company strode forth from their transports.

The fabled Ghouls stood at least a head taller than the marines around them. Their armour was thicker and heavier, a thick black woollen robe coating the top of their armoured bodies and trailing downwards to flap in the wind around halfway up their thighs, the cloth held in place by a tasselled belt at the waist. Their heads were uncovered, showing pale skin that seemed unaffected by the cold. A thin silver needle emerged from their backs under their robes to stab into the base of their skulls. All of them were entirely bald, men and women alike. Their eyes flickered with a hidden energy, as though each soldier was stuck in a purgatory between one existence and another. The soldiers formed a long line in single file, stretching the length of the barricade. In unison they reached onto their backs and drew massive double-handed swords from the straps behind them. They swung the weapons around and drove them into the snow with drilled precision. Each blade was at least 5 feet in length and made from thick, dark alloy. Two thin tubes extended from the hilt of the weapon up along the blade for a short distance, assault rifle barrels built into the blade itself. The Ghouls pulled their weapons from the snow and twisted them in their hands, laying them to rest with one hand supporting the blade midway along its length while the other grasped the hilt and the triggers that were built into it. The warriors looked up towards the blue-armoured defenders impassionately, raised their weapons and opened fire. A hail of bullets lanced into the grenadiers as the Ghouls advanced, the flashes of blood glinting in soulless eyes. The marines attacked with renewed vigour and broke through as the 1st company continued to march, cutting down their foes with systematic volleys of gunfire.

The Ghosts fell back from their defences as grenadiers and guardsmen alike dropped dead around them, the 1st company's lethal accuracy taking its toll. One of the armour piercing bullets lashed through Jan's right arm as he staggered away from the onslaught, carving a bloody tract through his flesh. Another bullet hit Mikail in the chest, knocking him backwards, his brother picking him up and helping him along as the squad retreated. The Ghosts ran along the trench towards the gates that lead to the rearward defences as the attack continued, men dying by their droves all around them. Another shot hit Jan's rifle, the weapon shattering under the impact. He threw the remains to the ground and pulled his side-arm from its holster as the barricade ahead of his was breached. Marines spilled into the trench, their bayonets glistening. The storm troopers continued on as the first marine threw himself towards Jan's throat, firing as he moved. The bullet hit the lieutenant in the throat, blood spurting from the wound. Jan didn't flinch and raised his pistol, sending a similar shot towards the marine and blasting his windpipe into the air. The man let out a short cry as he fell. The Ghosts sprinted onwards, firing as they moved. Returning fire glanced from their heavy armour as they cut down the marines that stood in their way with ruthless force, finally reaching the gateway. Jan finally stopped to catch his breath and coughed, blood spluttering from his mouth accompanied by a single crushed bullet. Thinking nothing of it he staggered forward to bang on the steel frame before them, desperate for the relative safety beyond. The rest of the team formed up behind him, scanning the area through the persistent snow. Sarah and Sascha drew their close combat weapons as Eidur tended to his brother. Gav twisted around amidst the storm, checking all around him for any incoming threat. His breath ran heavy under his visor and his eyes were wide with panic. As Jan raised his hand to open the gate something moved in the shadows behind him. A dark shape leapt over the barricade like an ethereal hunter, causing barely a tremor as it hit the floor. In one smooth motion the Ghoul brought it's blade around in a sweeping arc, the heavy metal slashing upwards into Gav's torso. The weapon tore a great rent in the blue plate armour, lifeblood and pulped internal organs spilling out onto the snow as the welshman fell. His breath caught in his throat, what remained of his lungs sliced apart as he crashed to the floor without a sound. Jan turned just in time to see the blow land, but could not find any sound within him in response. The Ghosts stood as one and stared at their comrade's body in mute shock and horror, a captive audience the their friend's demise. One by one more Ghouls leapt over the walls, standing in an arc around the shocked troopers. More of the warriors strode out of the mist and snow from either side of the trench, forming a silent wall of glistening blades around the Ghosts as the first Ghoul stepped towards Gav's body. A flashing blade arced down towards him as he moved, biting through flesh and armour to sever his left arm as he reached out towards the stricken man. The soldier looked down at the stump just above where his elbow had been quizzically, the tide of blood leaking from the severed end slowly dripping to a halt. He looked up. Sarah was stood in front of him, her helmet resting on the floor and her sword pointing directly at his throat.

Sarah's steely gaze remained unflinching. “Touch him and I strike, demon.”

The Ghoul chuckled. “You would not know where to begin, child.” His voice was deep, traces of a family harmonic tone. “Bear your neck and surrender, I would have it that I should not dull my blade.”

She stayed motionless, battling with her own inner turmoil as she prepared herself for the inevitable physical contest to come. Lights were winking on in her brain, neurones connecting memories thus far hidden behind the shrouds of trauma. She knew who these people were. They were part of the key. If she could only remember what the rest of the key looked like, and where the lock was. She turned her attention back to the warrior before her. “You have no idea what I am capable of.”

The man opened his mouth to retort, then stopped. He stared into her eyes, realisation dawning in his mind. Silver eyes, silver hair, reflexes faster than his thoughts. He closed his mouth and began to chuckle, his chapped lips twisting into a grin. “Oh, I think I know more than you do.” His grin widening, he turned his back and raised his one whole arm up into the swirling snow, roaring into the storm. “MY LORD!” he shouted, “I HAVE YOUR PRIZE!”

The scene remained silent for a few seconds more, then another dark shape emerged from the roiling cloud. Crashing to the ground amidst the Ghouls like a god's hammer blow, the final figure rose to his full height. His red and black robes snapped in the wind, pulling away from the tight black leather that covered most of his body and revealing his weaponry. His hood was pulled back from his hairless head by the gales. His face was crossed with red paint, a lightning bolt-shaped motif crossing from his left eye to above his right eye then down the right side of his jaw. His eyes were the same pale silver as Sarah's. His heavy leather and metal boots crushed the snow and ice flat beneath his weight as he faced Sarah. The man was truly a giant, just under seven feet in height, with a barrel chest and arms and legs thicken than a normal man's torso. Thick steel chains were wrapped around his forearms under the robes, attached to a matched pair of axes that he held in each hand. He bared his teeth as he addressed the storm trooper, the rest of her squad still watching on in shock and silence.

“Pariah 101. 422 at your service, my lady.” He inclined his head in mock courtesy as his heavy booming voice rang out across the eerily silent trenches.

Sarah started at the mention of her old name. “Who are you, warrior? Who sent you?”

422 chuckled under his breath. “You really do remember nothing. The Scourge was right. Ah well, it makes no difference.” He breathed heavily and gripped his weapons tighter. “I'm here for you.”

[Lemartes]

Very very good!

[Cordova]

Awesome.
And I'm still watching Lukas...

Also...FIGHT!!

Can't wait for the scrap, but I want to see Jan's full awesome-ness, as there's something there isn't there....

[Imperial Dragon]

Next update for you, really wanted to get this one done :D Got to rush for school, so enjoy, and the rest of the chapter will be up later on this week!





PARIAH

Chapter Seventeen – Revelations


422 roared as he threw himself at Sarah, hacking towards her head with one of his axes. She ducked under the blow and dived to her left, bringing her own blade up to block the inevitable riposte. The second strike from the charging pariah landed and she reeled backwards under the force of the impact. The man was a giant, true, but his strength seemed barely contained within his hulking frame, each blow landing with an almost feral energy. Sarah staggered backwards, desperately defending herself from each attack as the pariah strode onwards. The two warriors duelled as the storm trooper backed along the trench, the Ghouls and Ghosts still staring each other down as they disappeared into the storm. 422 swung towards Sarah's head again, the brutish strike clearly telegraphed. She brought her own weapon up quickly to parry. As the thunderous blow landed she was slammed backwards, her sword spinning out of her hand and landing point down in a snow drift. Sarah herself was knocked off her feet by the force and crashed to the floor, landing on her back. Instinctively she kicked herself back to her feet with incredible agility, taking another two steps backwards as one of 422's heavy steel weapons sliced the air apart millimetres from her throat. The man dropped onto his haunches and bared his jagged teeth as Sarah fled towards her sword, his breath hissing into the freezing air. Sarah turned as she heard his earth shattering footfalls coming towards her and pulled one of her pistols from its holster as she reached for her blade with the other hand. The pariah raised his right arm as if about to throw a baseball, then Sarah fired twice. The pair of bullets hit the advancing behemoth in the face, one carving a bloody tract across his left temple and the other punching into his skull just below his left eye. The pariah barely flinched, lashing out with his raised arm. The axe in his right hand flew out of his grasp spinning through the air like a colossal throwing knife. The chain that bound it to his bracer trailed out behind the weapon as it flew. Sarah's right hand has barely brushed against her sword when the axe hit, slicing her pistol in half. She was knocked backwards once again, dropping the shattered remains of the weapon in shock. 422 pulled on the chain and the axe span back into his grasp with deadly precision. He returned to his full towering height as Sarah ripped her blade free and took up her guard once again, panting for breath. As he stood and flexed his neck, the cut on his face reformed into unblemished skin. A bullet slipped out of the wound under his eye and the hole slowly filled itself in. A maniacal grin twisted his garishly coloured face.

“Run, 101. Flee before me like the vermin you are, make this hunt some sport.”

He laughed to himself, then stepped forward again. Sarah charged at the man, blade raised high for what some hidden part of her knew would be a lethal strike. She ducked under a swinging axe and swung for 422's head. He caught her blade in the curve of his other axe and twisted it around, easily deflecting the force of her blow. The light from the snow glinted in his silver eyes as he brought his forehead down onto Sarah's in a brutal headbutt, then twisted his torso to deliver a punishing kick to her chest. The impact lifted her into the air like a rag doll, sending her flying over the barricade, into the storm and down to the blood stained forward trenches below. The warrior grinned, satisfied as he watched the broken blue shape disappear into the swirling white, then leapt after her in one easy bound.

Sarah landed on her feet in the pit below their trench, still clutching her sword as she crouched low, She stood to face 422 as he landed in front of her, great clouds of snow erupting into the twisting currents of air as his heavy frame impacted, a small crater forming in the earth around his boots. Sarah stared at the assassin through bloodstained hair. The ragged strands of silver were coated with vibrant red, barely shrouding the damage beneath. The front of her face can been completely caved in by 422's strike. Her nose was flattened and crushed to one side, the flesh blending with her left cheek in a pulped mass. The bones that formed her upper jaw were in pieces and her lips dripped lazily from the front of her face. Above the bridge of her nose, the plate of bone at her forehead was mostly dust, jagged spines of fractured bone sticking out through her dismembered skin. Her right eye was lolling from its socket and her left eye had been torn in half, jelly spilling from the decimated organ and sliding down what remained of her face. Some of the shards of bone were sticking into her brain, parts of which were now clearly visible. Sickening cracking and squelching noises emanated from Sarah's face as the regeneration took hold, pulling her shattered jaw back into place and reforming her cheeks and nose. Her skull knitted back together, the damaged sections of her brain slowly regrowing. With another terrible slurping sound both her eyes slopped from their sockets and landed in the blood and snow at her feet. Replacement eyes grew out of the snaking neurones at the back of the gaping holes, expanding until they were the exact same size as the ones that now shrivelled and disintegrated on the ice below. The irises were a startlingly deep blue, perfect mirrors of a soul in torment. A second passed and the inevitable silver glaze passed over them, returning her eyes to markers of her past once more. Sarah spat blood onto the floor and snarled at the warrior that stood before her,

“Why are you here?” she asked, never taking her eyes from his, hatred and spite potent within her tone. “What is it that I bear that poses such an irritance to a man that I cannot even remember?

“You are a traitor, a symbol of anarchy within our creed. You used to know me, 101, back before you turned. Back before you cast away everything that our order gave to you, before you spat on your oaths to our father and turned your blade to his throat. Back when you were one of the best, when I and many others like me admired your work.” The pariah's smile faded as he replied.

Sarah's breath came in short bursts. “How can I betray oaths I cannot remember making? Your order stole something from me, stole a part of my life that I can never regain. The first decision I made away from your masters' liquor was to make my own decisions. I have betrayed nothing and no one.”

“How can you be certain when you live without memory?”

“All I know is that while I was one of you I was a pawn. A tool. A weapon. Nothing more. That is all you will ever be to them, and I swear to you now that when I remember, when I lift the shadows from the recesses of my mind and find out what you did to me I will stop at nothing. I will hunt every last one of you down and destroy you just like you destroyed me.”

422 snorted. “You knew more about this organisation than most of us put together. You were one of the finest, and caused the greatest repercussions when you fell. How can you forget? How can you hate the glory that you were once proud to share in?”

“I don't know. All I do know is that those monsters and the things that we did were nothing to take pride in.”

“Ignorance is bliss, 101. Savour it as you die.” The pariah threw himself into the attack once again.

***

Jan stood his ground as the Ghouls surrounded them. His team were outnumbered by the sword-wielding warriors at least ten to one. The last bedraggled reinforcements of the UNA main charge ran past them far off to each side, going to join the fight deeper inside the confederate fortifications. Far away behind them they could still hear the muffled screams and sporadic gunfire as the fight continued, the rest of the marines 1st company leading the assault on the last beleaguered remnants of the EDC defenders. The storm winds howled around the stand off, whipping freezing snow into the bare faces of the American elite. They remained still, their clouded eyes watching the helmeted storm troopers intently. There was still no sign of Sarah after the red and black robed man had attacked. The five Ghosts waited in tension and silence for their enemies to make a move. The lead Ghoul duly obliged, raising his two-handed sword to point directly at Jan's throat as he spoke.

“Back away, lieutenant. We are here to ensure the capture of the island and the girl, you and your men are of no concern to us. Flee now and your lives may be spared.”

Jan remained still, his expression locked in a determined glare behind his mirrored visor. “You are leaving without both, ghoul.”

The man smirked. “Then you have made your choice.” He tilted his head slightly to one side and addressed his men. “Kill them.”

The lead Ghoul stepped forward and raised his blade above his head to strike. In one calm motion Jan brought his pistol up and fired a single shot into the man's face. The bullet hit him in his left eye, blasting a cloud of pulped membrane and blood out from the wound. He took a step back under the force of the shot, then slowly let his sword drop back to his side. The shattered and bloodstained crater on the side of his head continued to bleed gently, the Ghoul licking a trickle of blood from his lips into his mouth. The other Ghouls charged the four remaining storm troopers as their leader stood and grinned at Jan. He strode forward again purposefully, completely oblivious to the damage that he had sustained. Jan fired again and again, the shots tearing gouges out of the man's face and neck. Blood ran freely from the wounds as another bullet tore his right ear apart. The grin returned and the man began to laugh as he raised his weapon in one hand to swing towards Jan's head. The lieutenant ducked under the powerful strike and slipped a dagger from one of the sheaths on his left arm, ramming the thin weapon up into the attacking Ghoul's throat. The blade tore the man's windpipe apart as his swing lost momentum. Snarling, he ripped Jan's knife free and tried to stab it into the gap between the European soldier's helmet and neck armour. Jan grabbed hold of the man's wrist and held the knife back, the two of them grappling ferociously. The Ghoul raised his right arm again, the point of his massive sword aimed directly at Jan's chest. Jan thought for a second, then just before the weapon came down on him released his grip on the Ghoul's wrist. The knife slammed into the side of Jan's neck, blood spurting out of the wound at an alarming rate. The attacking marine was knocked off balance and fell to the floor as Jan stood, pulling the knife free from his neck as his vision began to blur. The Ghoul kicked himself to his feet but Jan was already there, blade in hand. He rammed the dagger into the man's broken left eye socket, through what remained of the bone behind it and up into his brain. The Ghoul stopped moving and his jaw dropped as the thin metal punched into his head. Snarling behind his visor, Jan twisted the knife to the right in a wrenching motion and the marine fell limp. The lieutenant allowed the man to fall to the floor, the dagger still embedded in his skull. He looked around him and could not see his team, the fight having taken the two of them away from the gate. Jan swore and was just about to charge back the way he had come when some part of his mind made him hesitate. He saw the Ghoul's sword laying in the snow, unneeded by its master. A wry smile crossed his face as he picked up the weapon, its weight and balance seeming familiar in his hand. Rearmed, he ran back into the storm.

Sascha pulled her shotgun from the holster at the small of her back as the first of the deranged warriors them himself at her. To her left Jan was grappling with their leader but for now she and the others had more pressing concerns. She fired at the nearest Ghoul, blowing the majority of his torso away even through his thick armour. The Ghoul slowed to look at the wound in his stomach inquisitively. The other Ghoul swung for her, arcing his blade downwards over his head. She dived to her left as the blade embedded itself in the snow. Rolling to her feet she primed the energised blades on her forearms and slashed her left arm towards the struggling Ghoul's neck, hacking his head clean off in one swing. The decapitated body fell to the floor in silence. Sascha looked up to see the first Ghoul running at her again, albeit with a slightly crippled gait due to the cavernous hole in his belly. She levelled her shotgun at him again and this time aimed for the head, blasting his skull apart in the blink of an eye. The second corpse fell to the floor. Behind her Eidur and Mikail were fighting back to back against six of the warriors, holding them back by sheer volume of fire from their rifles. The men continued to advance, swinging their blades around menacingly as great lumps of flesh were blasted away from their bodies. Sascha charged towards them, firing as she moved. Two more Ghouls dropped, their heads blasted asunder. One of the men swung his blade towards Eidur's helmeted head, the storm trooper ducking and pulling his brother down under the swing. Eidur levelled his rifle at the man's face and emptied a full clip into what remained of his skull, the Icelander's bullets punching into the Ghoul's brain and sending him spinning to the floor, blood flashing bright red in the snow-filled air. Mikail grabbed his brother by the back of the neck and threw him to his right, the other man diving the other way as two more swords came slashing through the space where their heads had just been. Sascha jumped into the air and brought her blades crashing down on the nearest Ghoul's head, cutting his skull into four pieces. As she turned the next Ghoul levelled his sword at her and fired, the bullets punching into the thick metal at the front of her helmet, millimetres away from hitting her head. Dazed, she reeled back from the attack as the Ghoul stabbed forward with his blade. Just then the man's head exploded in a shower of gore, a high-calibre sniper round blasting his brain apart. As Sascha regained her breath Lukas' voice came over the commlink.

“I think I'm getting the hang of this, it's just like those old zombie films.” His voice was cut short as his helmet speaker was filled with the harsh clash of metal, followed by two gunshots as he fought off yet more of the attackers. “We have to get to higher ground. Turn your infra-red on and head for the gate, follow me. Move.”

Sascha swore and ran towards Lukas' marker on her HUD. “What about Jan?”

“He can take care of himself, now go.”

She ran on through the snow, rolling under another swinging blade from a hissing ghoul with an arm and half his face missing then vaulting to her feet and charging towards the gate. She caught up Eidur and Mikail and the three of them ran together, desperately avoiding the hail of attacks from their frenzied enemies. Finally they reached the team scout, who was stood on top of the open gate, firing calmly through the storm into the faces of the charging Ghouls, killing with each shot. He fired another shot one handed as he waved with the other, the other Ghosts running past him, through the gate and stopping on the other side, glancing furtively back into the spinning snowstorm.

Lukas' cold voice remained unchanged through the comms speaker. “Ghouls in front, Ghouls behind. We fight our way back up towards command to help the men out there before we get spit roasted.”

***

Sarah lunged for 422's neck with her sword as he stepped forward once again. It seemed as though the two had been duelling for an age but neither was physically tired. The giant easily deflected her blow and threw out another of his sweeping throwing axe attacks, the chained weapon zipping through the air just over Sarah's head as she leapt backwards. Her movements were more focussed and more efficient, despite the raging battle within her own mind and soul. She was starting to remember things, visions of scenes that had been lost to her for so long. She felt dizzy and sick as dust-coated areas of her consciousness reawakened, but fought on nevertheless. The pariah began to hiss again and he charged, slashing upwards for the storm trooper's throat. Sarah danced backwards and raised her guard once again. 422 stopped and grinned, cocking his head to one side in a motion that seemed strangely familiar to the soldier before him.

“You're getting it back, 101. The fluid motions that sector one do so well. You'll always be a predator at heart, girl, no matter how hard you try and convince yourself otherwise. You are a pariah.”

Sarah snarled. “I don't even know what a pariah is any more. Doesn't that give you some inclination as to how much I value your organisation?”

“You will. I can smell your fear. You know that every second you spend faced by me the more you remember, the more you revert back to who you are inside, the more pain you feel. You are becoming one of us once again, 101.” The maniacal grin returned stronger than ever.

The storm trooper's rage reached boiling point. “STOP CALLING ME THAT!” she shrieked, then threw herself on the attack again. Her sword flashed brightly as she darted forwards, the thin blade cutting through the air towards her enemy. 422 blocked, but the strikes kept coming, the two warriors trading blows with ease that would fell a lesser human being in seconds. Sarah stabbed her blade upwards for 422's throat, allowing her momentum to continue as he parried, spinning and ducking under a counter attack to ram the blade home over her shoulder and into his gut. The pariah convulsed as Sarah activated the sonic pulse within the blade again and again, tearing the giant man's insides apart. As the power cell in the hilt ran dry the two warriors stared each other down, then Sarah gripped the blade and wrenched it upwards with all her strength, tearing a great crevasse up into his chest. Pain and anger flashed across 422's face as he pushed down on the blade with one hand and stopping its progression towards his throat. Sarah's vision suddenly flashed, her world turning black and white. The red paint on the assassin's face twisted and span, coating the left side of his face. The red colour turned black, then white, then green, then pink, a matrix of colour dancing and spinning before her. A hood materialised over his head and the half of his face that was uncovered became more feminine. The new face spoke, her breath laced with some kind of narcotic. The hallucinogen washed over Sarah, sending a fresh array of images flashing in front of her. Memories.

“There is no escaping your past. We have made sure of that.”

Sarah screamed as lightning bolts of pain lashed across her mind. Something hit her in the face, hard, then she felt herself lifting into the air. The visions suddenly disappeared, 422's face returning into her field of view. The snarling assassin still had Sarah's sword protruding from his chest, the much smaller woman held firmly by the scruff of her neck, hovering in his powerful grasp with her face just inches from his.

“What can you see, 101?” he said, his voice emotionless.

Sarah replied without thinking, her subconscious responding before she knew what she was saying. “Harlequin.”

422's face twisted into a slight smile, the pariah taking no pleasure from the action. “You're close.” With that, he smacked the woman backhanded across the face, shattering her jawbone with one strike. She flew backwards through the air and crashed to the snow-covered ground. With every impact on her head yet more images flooded into her consciousness. Black robed men and women, practising the art of death. Hoods covering pale faces. Silver skin, silver eyes. The masters. The Spartan. An old man in the armoury, a friend. Pariahs. Father. The drug, the narcotic, the silver liquor. Pariah. Pariah. Father. Zero. Pariah. She shook her head, dislodging the last of the terrifying visions. She slowly staggered to her feet, squinting through the snow towards the looming shadow of her enemy. 422 roared in pain as he tore the sword free from his chest. Her raised the blade above his head, the dark metal dripping with blood as lumps of lacerated internal organ dripped to the floor. The pariah gave out one last bellowing roar and snapped Sarah's sword in half. The shattered shards of metal dropped to the floor to be covered by the driving snow as the assassin's organs reformed. The flesh that covered them took longer to regrow, the blizzard whipping freezing snow inside the man's ribcage. Sarah drew her short swords from her back, flexing her arms and rotating the blades around in her hands. The storm continued around her, drifts of snow forming in the no man's land between the two warriors. Still the images came, her world transformed into a dizzying montage of colour and pain. Summoning up the last vestiges of her sanity, she charged into battle one last time. The pariah strode forward, swinging his axes in great arcs around him in a halo of lethal energy. Sarah didn't falter as she ran, her eyes fixed straight ahead where she knew her target was despite the images that warped her perception of her surroundings. As the lightning fast swinging blades came ever closer she finally let herself go, submitting herself fully to her own instincts. Vaulting into the air in a double somersault she arced over the vortex of metal below her, spinning around to face the assassin. The giant man turned his face upwards, his eyes widening in shock as she dived towards him. The world slowed around them. Sarah seemed to float through the air, the storm battering her thin frame as she raised her right hand, the blade held there pointing directly towards 422's head with needle-like precision. As she descended, the visions blurred into one, every thought that she held within her focussed on the man that she was about to kill. As the visions coalesced on his body he began to change again. His weaponry disappeared and the vibrant red on his face and robes followed. His face warped and distorted as he became a new person, one more familiar to her. Jan looked up at her, his silver hair wafting gently over his face in the calming winds, shrouding his pale skin and silver eyes. He smiled gently, then spoke.

“As the past becomes clear, so does the future.”

The visions disappeared, returning Sarah to the true form of the world. She landed with her feet planted on 422's chest. As she did so, the sword in her left hand sliced into the left side of his neck, embedding itself in his spinal column at exactly the same second as she brought her right hand down, spearing her other sword directly through the centre of his forehead. The force of the blow decapitated him in one strike, his severed head smashed free of both blades and sent flying into the snow. The spinning axes came to rest as his arms stopped moving. Slowly the decimated body toppled and crashed to the floor with Sarah still perched on his chest. The storm trooper slowly pulled herself back to her full height and let her arms fall to her sides, tilting her head back as she did so, her eyes closed. She emptied her lungs in one deep breath and slowly allowed her weapons to fall to the floor.

[Cordova]

Once again.
Quality.

[Mali32]

Just finished catching up. Awesome. Jan has a sword...this could be interesting. :D

[Jinxie]

HAHA
spit roasted.
Thanks for putting that in there m'dear.

Looking forward to the next installment!
:smt016

[Imperial Dragon]

Once again.
Quality.

thankyou! :smt007




Just finished catching up. Awesome. Jan has a sword...this could be interesting. :D

Everyone should have a sword. It's 2055 and swords are coming back into fashion :mrgreen:




HAHA
spit roasted.
Thanks for putting that in there m'dear.

Looking forward to the next installment!
:smt016

I do try, I know there isn't as much sex in there as you'd like, so I have to put a few immature things in to keep you interested love. :mrgreen:


So, any conspiracy theories wandering round your heads? Any ideas as to what's going to happen? I won't tell you whether you're right or not, of course, but I just like to see how you're all thinking. Helps to see whether I'm revealing too much or too little :)

[Cordova]

Jan is one of the Pariah dudes.

Hence why the big cheese is scared of him. And why the sword feels familiar etc. Maybe the founder of them? Or some such like is my guess.

That and he's gonna go mad and kill up some fools.

Also - Lukas is the best character.

[ajrk32]

Jan is a prototype. Lukas and him have a final show down. Sarah has bad visions. She and jan are exiled find the Hq and attempt to infiltrate. Get caught. Squad c804 have a change of heart. Big battle.

Than of course nids arrive and win.

[Imperial Dragon]

Well then, here's the next section! This has taken me pretty much all day to write, and chapter 17 is now ridiculously big :D The frequency of updates might slow down even further soon with exams startign a week on friday, but after the 15th of june i'll have nothing to do but write this so I'll do my best until then :D For now, enjoy the update and tell me what you think!




***

Lukas lead Sascha and the Tomassons towards the top of the hill as the storm began to quieten. The snowfall slowed and the haze began to clear, the shattered remnants of the EDC defences opening up before them as they ran, as though a curtain had been drawn back. European and American soldiers duelled in scattered melees across the trenches, desperately fighting to the death. Ghouls stalked between the fights like deathly shades, silent as they watched, then attacking with a shrieking howl as their massive weapons cut the confederates down. More and more marines flooded through the various breaches, following in the wake of their army's hulking elite warriors. The four remaining Ghosts sped onwards, their massive armoured frames crushing the snow flat beneath their boots, the last line of defence growing ever closer. They ignored the battles around them as best they could, concentrating mainly on getting to central command but their charge was not without its perils, Sascha's shotgun being deployed more than once to fell onrushing marines of all ranks. After what seemed like an age the clouds lifted and the final barricades became visible. The marines were all congregating on the one central point at the top of the hill, the EDC's communications relays towering away into the clearing sky. The marines were hurling themselves at a thin wall of metal that protected the command tents at the back of the European defences. Behind the barrier crouched the last of the resistance, retreating EDC guardsmen and grenadiers unleashing volley after volley at their aggressors. The senior officers stood with them, masterfully crafted pistols spitting death amongst the UNA ranks and brightly flashing swords fending the marines away. Bayonets jabbed over the barricade, catching defending soldiers in the throats and dragging them down to the blood-stained snow on the floor. Some of the more brave or foolhardy marines vaulted the barricade and tried to attack the confederates at even closer ranges, but were themselves quickly cut down and left to bleed to death.

The Ghosts opened fire as they charged towards the barricade. The yet more marines fell as the four storm troopers cut their way through the press in a hail of bullets, Sascha hacking into those soldiers that remained in her path with her blades. After a short struggle the blue-armoured warriors clambered over the barricade and collapsed, exhausted, into the crowded well behind. They picked themselves up and prepared to defend once again. Lukas and Sascha pulled their assault rifles from the reserve holsters on their backs, stowed their more specialised weaponry away and joined the team's medic and comms expert in levelling a withering torrent of hot metal into the advancing marines. The other two troopers remained silent, lost in their own thoughts as they had been since their deployment into their homeland's snowfields. The grenadier next to Sascha crashed to the floor behind the wall as a stream of bullets whipped past his head. He took a deep breath as he reloaded his weapon, then chanced a look over towards the giant figure to his right. Sascha's full-face visor was dark and impenetrable, reinforcing the elite soldier's cold image. He cleared his throat.

“Still no sign of the Ghouls, don't think they've reached this far in. What's going on back there?”

Sascha finished her clip, then swung the rear of her weapon around to strike a marine in the face on the other side of the defensive wall, breaking his neck. She dropped behind cover to reload, but did not meet the other European soldier's gaze. “They're coming, don't you worry about that.” she said, then stood up again to return fire. She felled a slowly advancing marine a few yards in front of her with her first volley, the man's face twisting in pain as her shots cut away part of his throat. As he slipped to his knees, the last few rounds from his rifle spat out in random arcs before the weapon fell from his grasp. One of his shots punched through an already mangled piece of armour on Sascha's chest and cut into the flesh beneath. She grunted with the brief spike of pain before her armour administered painkillers and the nanomachines in her blood tended to the wound. She swore as the pain ebbed away. “Where the hell is Jan?”

***

The lieutenant walked through the fractured trenches, his new sword clutched tightly in his right hand. The storm clouds died around him, the scattered remnants of both armies becoming clearly visible from his vantage point. The last of the marines were breaching the EDC defences and charging up the hill, goaded on by the 1st company marines at the base of the fortifications. The bald giants roared at their smaller comrades, brandishing their weapons and driving the other marines onwards. As they pressed on, they met the few EDC survivors from the initial support, overrunning them by sheer weight of numbers. Ghouls leapt from trench to trench, their powerful physiques carrying them across the battlefield with ease. They continued to heard the other marines onwards as the final reinforcements joined the fray. Every man had been committed.

Jan's head snapped around as the sound of hammering footsteps filled the trench behind him. A squad of marines came charging towards him along the trench, at least twenty men. He turned to face them as they caught sight of him, dropping to their knees and opening fire as one. Jan snarled behind his visor and strode towards them, swinging the blade in his hand around in ever widening arcs. The storm of bullets lashed around him and punching into his thick armour, but with each step and each lash of pain his movements became more purposeful. A barely stifled roar slipped from his throat as he attacked, a red mist descending over his eyes. He saw the first marine recoil in horror as Jan's sword can crashing down, decapitating him in one strike. The next blow cut three more men in half. Jan stepped through the decimated ranks of men before him in a trance, hacking and slashing through them with near supernatural skill. The last of the marines tried to fall back before him, but the storm trooper pulled his side arm free from its holster and shot him dead with a single bullet to the back of the neck. Jan holstered the weapon again and looked around him, panting for breath. The marines that he had just killed had been heading for the main thoroughfare through the fortifications, for the gate to the upper levels where the team had met the Pariah assassin in charge of the UNA advance. Shaking the rage free from his mind, Jan hefted his sword and ran back towards the gate.

He crashed into the rearmost squad of marines just as they reached the gate in the fourth trench with devastating force. The Ghoul sword in his hand flashed brightly in the rising sun as the storm trooper cut through the stunned American soldiers. The heavy steel blade sliced through rifles, armour and flesh alike, killing the final advance's rearguard in seconds. Jan stopped, standing over the bodies of the men that he had killed, the now deserted battlefield stretching out behind him. Thousands of corpses littered the snow, which glistened in the new sun as it began to melt. Before him the column of marines snaked upwards towards the top of the hill where he assumed the rest of his team were waiting, helping with the defence. As he watched, the two 1st company marines at the back of the column noticed their missing squad, and turned to see Jan stood in a pool of blood, holding one of their own weapons. They nodded to each other and charged towards him, flying down the slope with their swords drawn in great bounding strides. The first hit the ground about a hundred yards in front of Jan then kicked off, leaping into the air and bringing his sword crashing down towards the top of Jan's skull. The lieutenant barely flinched, stepping aside at the last second and bringing his own blade up to strike at the attacking marine's head, hacking half of his face away with one clean swing. The man's head split in two from the right corer of his jaw up to his left temple, a pulped mass of bone, brain and skin slopping to the floor as he died. By the time Jan looked up the other Ghoul was already upon him, his blade stabbing into the storm trooper's belly. Jan pulled back just in time, minimising the damage and tearing himself free of the weapon. The two warriors exchanged blows, duelling effortlessly with the massive swords. The rage returned, swallowing Jan's mind in a subconscious frenzy, adding power and speed to every swing. He hated his opponent. He could feel the division within the Ghoul, part human and part something else entirely. The man was dirty, a heathen invader who deserved to die. Jan parried again and then delivered a final shocking blow to the Ghoul's defences, sending him reeling backwards. Jan's sword rose and fell again, hacking both the man's sword arm free at the shoulder and spinning him around with the sheer force of the attack. As he caught sight of the back of the man's head, Jan's subconscious took control again. The lieutenant reached out and gripped at a thin silver needle at the base of the man's skull and pulled. The Ghoul let out a terrifying shriek as a metallic imitation of a spinal cord was ripped clear from his back, the contraption hanging limp in Jan's hand. The marine fell to the floor and began to spasm, thick red and silver liquids pouring freely from a tiny hole in the back of his head, then he fell silent. At the end of the device, a small hexagonal container dangled, holding some of the same silver substance that was leaking from his brain. The system appeared to be a similar, more primitive version of the apparatus that Sarah had worn when she had attacked them in Warsaw. Snarling, Jan tossed the equipment aside and stamped on the Ghoul's head to make sure that his foe was dead. Just as he was about to set off towards the top of the EDC trench system, Jan caught sight of a scrap of blue armour beneath the mounds of white armour and snow. Digging through the piles of the dead, he uncovered the stricken body of a storm trooper, one of his own. It was Jones. The Welshman lay where he had fallen, the gaping rent in his torso inflicted by the Ghoul commander still clearly visible, the demolitions expert's nanomachines overloaded. His lifeblood was trickling gently out into the snow and his skin was deathly pale, but the man was still alive and breathing in short rasps. His eyes flickered open and he saw his lieutenant standing over him. A spluttering chuckle escaped from Gav's lungs and he tried to form a smile as he lay dying before his commander.

“Thought you weren't coming back for me.” he muttered, flecks of blood splattering onto his lips. “I guess I'm going to need carrying, sir. I'm sorry about the inconvenience.” Jan looked down at the broken body in distaste, any sense of camaraderie, friendship or remorse absent from his heart. There was only anger.

“Don't be.” he said, and brought the point of his sword down into Jones' face.

***

The situation at the top of the hill became more and more desperate by the second. The last of the EDC defenders were dying, their position overwhelmed by the sheer volume of fire directed towards them. The Ghosts were killing with every shot, but four soldiers could not stem the tide against hundreds alone. More spaces were opening up in the confederate ranks as grenadiers and guardsmen alike fell, giving the advancing marines more room to penetrate their defences. Sascha hacked the more adventurous attackers back, but their defence was slowly breaking apart. The grenadier next to her fell. Lukas raised his head above cover to return fire and a stray bullet hit him in the head, cracking his visor and knocking him backwards. He picked himself up, unharmed, but then the call that they had all been dreading came.

“Ghouls! Ghouls, incoming!” one of the grenadiers further down the line shouted, his voice cut off sharply as Sascha watched one of the deadly 1st company marines dive over the trench wall and pierce the man's heart with its massive blade. She scrambled backwards as more of the warriors leapt over their barricade and advanced on them, hissing and spitting through their wounds. Most of them had lost limbs or eyes, many had sections of their torso missing and armour plates stripped free. One of them crashed to the ground in front of Sascha and crept towards her on its haunches, arms spread wide and a mad glint in its eyes. The left side of its face had been burnt away, revealing a tortured mess of skin and tendons. It opened its mouth to scream and prepared to bring its blade down towards her, then the butt of Lukas' rifle hit it in the face. The German sniper swung the weapon like a baseball bat, caving in the already damaged left side of its skull and killing it instantly, but then he too was under attack. Another Ghoul smashed a breach through the barricade and charged towards him, wailing and swinging its sword around as though the touch of the hilt was painful. Lukas staggered backwards, firing in vain at the onrushing marine. Behind them, Eidur and Mikail fired at the Ghoul as well but none of them could slow its progress. With one final lashing sweep of its blade it cut Lukas up the front of his chest, carving through his battered armour and sending a spray of blood flying into the air. The scout fell without a sound. Sascha leapt to her feet, roaring in anger and tore her shotgun free of its holster, the shell blasting the Ghoul's head and neck clean apart with one shot. As the decapitated marine fell, Lukas coughed and pushed himself up. He leant on his rifle as he hauled himself back to his feet, shrugging away the pain, then looked up towards Ramirez.

“Why didn't you do that before he hit me?” he snapped, then took his place between Sascha and Eidur.

The four storm troopers backed away from the barricade in silence with the rest of the defenders as the Ghouls stalked towards them. The marines were dead, but forty of the elite guard stood before them, each easily capable of massacring every man and woman there. The Europeans walked slowly backwards until they ran out of space, the last couple of hundred defenders crammed together in front of their command centre, never taking an eye off of the enemy. Sascha felt a hand on her shoulder as she stopped, but she didn't look round, commander Ingelsson's warm voice dissuading her fears.

“Well, this is where it ends, for better or worse.” The Ghouls continued to hiss, some of them throwing their heads back and screaming into the disappearing storm. A madness was gripping them, some kind of battle fever, turning the calm warriors into animals. As one, they raised their swords and prepared to strike. Sascha cocked her shotgun and Lukas chuckled under his breath.

“You gotta shoot 'em in the head! Man, I have always wanted to say that!”

As the Ghouls roared their battle cries and charged, a lone warrior dived over the barricade behind them. The blue-armoured giant swung one of the Ghouls' swords around his head and cut the nearest two down as the rest threw themselves at the EDC. Jan hacked every American apart that he could reach, their blood splattering across his armour. The other Ghosts let loose a whooping cheer as their leader joined the slaughter and opened fire, their shots ripping into the Ghouls' heads with deadly accuracy. The battle was short and sweet, half of the remaining Europeans falling before the last Ghoul died. The survivors threw their weapons into the air and cheered, giving thanks more to the fact that they had survived than anything else. Sascha ran out from the EDC lines and threw herself at her lieutenant, the two of them hugging each other and collapsing from exhaustion. Fritz smiled slightly to himself behind his cracked visor and walked over to the Tomasson brothers who were stood apart from the others, in silence.

“Come on, aren't you at least a little bit happy? We won, we saved your homeland.”

Mikail's head slowly turned towards the team's scout, his shrouded face indifferent. “Our homeland died the day the EDC claimed as a war base. There will be no victory here until the land is restored to how it was.” The two brothers turned away from Lukas and strode off across the camp. “We should never have come here.”

The scout shrugged and wandered over to his other two comrades. Some of the surviving EDC army that he passed slapped him on the shoulder and offered congratulations, but he just shrugged them away. The three Ghosts stood together and removed their helmets, grinning at one another as the fresh afternoon sun beat down on their faces. Jan was the first to speak.

“Well, that went as well as could be expected.”

“We're getting good at this, don't you think?” Ramirez grinned even more broadly than usual. “Double hero status, maybe?”

Jan laughed and breathed out a sigh of relief, shaking the last tendrils of his earlier anger free from his thoughts. He looked around himself and saw the last remnants of the army that had been stationed there posting sentries, issuing orders or just simply collapsing in the snow, the events of the last few days taking their toll at last. As he turned back towards the forward trenches, he saw a thin shadow walking toward them through the haze. Sascha and Lukas were talking to each other next to him but he could not hear them, his thoughts entirely focussed on the woman staggering towards them through the drifts of snow. He ran towards her, showers of white flying up behind him with every pounding footstep. Sarah looked up, stopping as she saw him coming. Her face was covered in blood, her silver hair matted with it as he struggled to catch her breath. Her face was completely devoid of emotion, her mind exhausted beyond repair. As Jan reached her she finally gave in, her legs quaking and giving way, leaving her sprawled in his arms, unconscious. Jan barely heard Sascha and Lukas as they ran past him into the trenches, the man's name that they were shouting unrecognisable. The world seemed to slow down around him, his whole world becoming the girl in his arms. She was safe.

***

Sarah's eyes flickered open. She was sat on the floor of one of the EDC's command tents at the back of their defences. The fight was over. 422 was dead, but something was still nagging at the back of her mind. Something wasn't right. Then it hit her: she could remember. She could remember everything. The Night Tower, the masters, her missions, everything that had happened to her since she joined the order and everything that she had ever been told about the Pariahs. The full weight of her realisation came crashing down on her and she felt as though her whole world was being torn apart. She doubled over and retched emptily, her mind and body spinning out of control. She was a monster.

“It's OK, you're safe.” Jan was sat next to her with his arm around her shoulders. He held her as she heaved and shook, keeping her close while she calmed down. The convulsions gradually slowed and stopped and her breathing returned to normal. She leant backwards, then turned her face to look up at Jan. As their eyes met, she lost her battle with her emotions again and began to sob violently, burying her face in her hands. Jan remained where he was, holding her tight until the weeping stopped. Tears still streaming from her eyes, she let her head rest on his shoulder, the other soldier leaning across to rest his cheek on the top of her head. After a few minutes of calm, she pulled away, and turned to look him in the eyes.

“I don't know what's going to happen, and I'm so sorry.”

Jan opened his mouth to reply, then Sarah leant in close and kissed him gently on the lips.

Outside the tent, Lukas leant on one of the structure's supporting poles, watching the clouds roll by and watching his breath crystallise in the cold evening air. His sniper rifle was strapped to his back and his dark eyes remained cold and emotionless. As he waited, he caught sight of Ramirez walking towards him. The master sergeant strode past him, nodding briefly to the other storm trooper then moved to pull the entrance flap back on the tent. Before she could, Lukas tilted his head to one side and spoke quietly,

“I wouldn't.” was all he said. His voice was indifferent as usual, but there was a slight undertone of pain that Sascha had never noticed before. She stopped and thought for a second, then realised what the sniper meant. Her gaze dropped to the floor. He swore under her breath, then turned and walked away from the tent. Lukas remained where he was, staring upwards into the darkening sky.

[Cordova]

“You gotta shoot 'em in the head! Man, I have always wanted to say that!”
Yet another reason why Lukas can't die.

Also - Quality update. I'm looking forward to seeing Jan going more ape-shit.

[Arateus]

Cordova says it all. The irony in the fact that its in Iceland atm and Jan went Beserkergangr like a Viking... EPIC

[Imperial Dragon]

Study leave is on, exams start friday, so updates may well end up slowing down to one per week. Apologies, but I have to put the exams first. So, here's the first half of chapter 18 for you all, sorry again about the delay but please enjoy anyway :D This is where the first strands of fate begin to tie together, drawing out conclusion in ever closer, hence the title. Enjoy!




PARIAH

Chapter Eighteen – The End Begins

Sascha sat alone at the top of the hill, resting against one of the jagged outcrops of stone and watching the sun rise. The sharp rock wore a thin scratch in the back of her armour as she adjusted her position. She leant her head back, the metal of her helmet knocking gently against the stone, then breathed a command word into her headset mic. As the brightly glowing orb pulled free of the horizon, casting its thin, pale light across the landscape and lifting a corona of mist away from the earth into the morning air, Sascha's polarised visor retracted into its armoured housing. A rush of frozen air was sucked into her face as the glass slid back. She emptied her lungs, her breath crystallising in the cold. The clouds of vapour were swept away by the gentle winds that swept over the snow fields, the breeze shifting the tides of glinting crystals across the wasteland as the new day dawned.

She opened her eyes and turned her head as movement over her right shoulder caught her attention. The canvas sheet at the entrance to one of the tents behind her was pulled back and Jan stepped out into the snow, his helmet held firmly under his arm. The lieutenant's face was set like stone, his gaze turned downwards as he strode across the complex and his blonde hair twisting across his face in the breeze. His blue eyes were cold, his thoughts distant. Sascha hauled herself to her feet and walked towards him, the morning sunlight dancing from her armour. Jan looked up as she approached and slowed to a halt. The two storm troopers faced each other, the camp around them remaining eerily silent after the clamour of battle that had consumed it the night before.

Several moments passed before Sascha spoke. “So, what happens now?” she asked.

“Sarah's preparing an address for high command. She says her old masters represent a priority one threat to the confederacy and that we need to take them down.”

“Well, she would.”

Jan's eyes narrowed slightly. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“How do we know she's telling the truth? We know nothing about her. She could be anyone. Yeah, she can kill, but we've just taken her in without thinking, Jan. How can you trust her like this already?”

He paused and looked about himself, gathering his thoughts. “Because somehow what she's saying makes sense.” he replied, his voice lowered. “Everyone in this world who gives a damn knows that something went wrong seven years ago. This war, this world, the things that happen around us every day, what if none of it was meant to happen? What if Sarah's past, these 'pariahs' hold the key to everything?”

“When did you get all philosophical?” Sascha's fierce glare bored through the back of Jan's head. “We fuck people up for a living, Jan. What does it matter how this all started?”

“Seven years ago, America started World War III. Seven years ago, I wander into the recruitment office in London with a letter from some tutor that I can't remember meeting, referring me to the EDC special forces. Everything that happened to me before that day is just...gone, if there ever was something there. I don't know. If these people have something to do with what happened to the world that day, then maybe they can tell me something about what happened to me.”

Sascha sighed, exasperated. “You don't know if these people even exist. Sarah could just be playing you, telling you what you want to hear. You've seen what she can do, how she fights, how she heals. God knows what she is. This all fits too well.”

“What's got into you, Sasch?”

“I'm angry, Jan.” she snapped. “You of all people should understand that.”

The lieutenant locked his jaw and glared back at his best friend. “Go find Lukas and the Toms, then meet me in the main tent. That's an order.”

Sascha swore, then turned away. Jan stood and watched her leave, then continued onwards through the clearing. The complex was still deserted, leaving the soldier to walk between the tents in silence. He reached the largest tent, parted the canvas at the front and stepped inside. The communications masts that stood at the heart of the EDC command centre stretched up from the floor, through the roof of the tent and upwards into the icy blue sky. The interior of the tent, that which had been a hive of activity just days before was now all but deserted. The chamber's only occupant stood in front of Jan, dressed in the ceremonial blue tunic of the confederacy army's officer class. Commander Ingelsson saluted the lieutenant, a gesture which the storm trooper returned. The two soldiers then turned and strode over to the rear of the tent in silence, standing in front of a large bank of computers that covered most of the far wall. At the centre of the array stood a large television screen, a camera built into the housing just above it. The screen was split into four quarters by thin white lines, but three of the squares remained black and lifeless. The fourth showed a live feed of the two soldiers in the tent in Iceland. The commander turned around to one of the relay columns behind them and began to activate a series of panels, typing furiously into a keyboard. Sections of the column lit up as it began to hum with energy, then the screen finally flickered into life.

Above the initial image, General Anderson's face slowly materialised. The officer was seated at a metal bench in the operations room in Warsaw's Palace of Culture and Science. The chamber behind him was filled with the usual clamour of officers and dignitaries, repairing the situation on the eastern front and monitoring the movements of the USIA army. The general leant forwards towards the camera with his fingers steepled in front of his face, his hat resting on the tabletop next to his right elbow. Next to him, another image activated, showing a younger man, clad in the same heavy, deep blue armour that Jan wore. A band of golden wool ran from over his right shoulder across his torso. The circle of golden stars that formed the emblem of the EDC studded the armour covering the left side of his chest, just above a long row of different medals. The Master of the storm trooper corps also stared into the screen, his short black hair and cleanly shaven chin a picture of professionalism and efficiency. Behind his metal desk, a wide glass window showed the shipyards of Berlin, squadrons of carriers floating effortlessly through the clear German sky. The final image then appeared, showing a woman dressed in a crisp black suit. Her long brown hair parted either side of her neck and ran freely down her chest. She was no more than thirty years old, but her face told a story of the stress and fatigue inherent in ruling a conglomerate state at war. The Prime Minister of the EDC sat at a heavy wooden desk, in front of wall bearing the confederate coat of arms, flanked by two heavy blue flags, displaying the familiar ring of stars. As the conference channels gradually formed themselves, the complicated number of communications systems required to synchronise everything powering up, Sascha, Lukas, Eidur and Mikail strode inside from the back of the tent, taking their places behind Jan. Commander Ingelsson turned back towards the screen, his preparations complete. Ghost Team stood in silence, waiting for the council before them to start off he proceedings.

General Anderson was the first to speak. “Congratulations on another victory, Ghosts. I know that it was hard fought, but it was well fought. My commiserations also for the loss of Sergeant Jones. I understand that your team has suffered a severe number of casualties since the insertion in Poland, and your continued resolution in the face of adversity is an inspiration to us all.”

“It is our wish only to serve our country, General.” Jan said, standing to attention. “If that requires us to lay down our lives, then that's what we must do. We are soldiers, sir.”

“Indeed you are.” The General batted an aide away, then continued. “You requested an audience with high command, Lieutenant Taylor. You said something about a threat to our confederacy?”

At that moment the entrance panel to the tent parted again. Through it came Sarah, walking hurriedly over to the rest of her team, clutching a pile of data slates in her arms. She pushed her way to the front, curtsied slightly to the camera then laid down her charges on a nearby work station. “Sorry I'm late.” she said, then smiled and motioned for Jan to continue.

Jan turned back to the screen. “Yes, General, I did, and I do appreciate your time, master and prime minister.” He paused for a second, clearing his throat. “As you know, my team and I recently intercepted an assassin in the Place HQ in Warsaw. That assassin was found to be under the influence of a combat narcotic, and once freed from the drug's control she regained some measure of control over her life. She went on to save the life of Master Sergeant Sascha Ramirez, whom the assassin had mortally wounded during the earlier fight. At my request, the former assassin was accepted into my unit and placed under my direct command. Her name is Trooper Sarah Ibanez. Once she had freed herself from the control of the drugs, she began to remember certain parts of her previous life that had been hidden to her, and she gave us information relating to an order of assassins known as 'Pariahs', who used this same narcotic as a combat enhancer and amongst whose ranks Sarah had once been counted. For whatever reason, these assassins appeared to be able to regenerate damaged tissue to a certain extent, an ability that Sarah has retained. However, other than these facts my comrade was unable to recall anything more regarding her previous existence.” He paused again, allowing his words time to sink into his audience. “After our insertion into north-western Iceland we encountered members of the UNA marines 1st company. Leading this unit was a warrior who revealed himself to be one of these Pariah assassins. He called himself Pariah 422 and challenged Sarah to single combat. He claimed to have been sent by her former masters to eliminate her, though for what reason I am unsure. Sarah was able to best him and kill him, but in doing so she seems to have managed to fully unlock her long-term memory regarding the order. She believes that this organisation poses a very severe threat to our nation.”

The room remained silent after Jan finished his speech, the council considering the implications of what had been said. “Do you trust this woman, lieutenant?” Prime Minister Belletti asked, her face barely moving.

“With my life, ma'am.”

“She is a convicted murderer, assassin and suspected serial killer. We know nothing about her, and yet you have enough faith in her to mount a proposal to this office based on her supposed memories?”

Jan turned his gaze to the floor for a second, then looked back to the screen. “On the battlefield all trust must be earned, ma'am, and I feel that Trooper Ibanez has earned my trust. It is my hope that all will soon become clear.”

[Cordova]

Ninja reply:

Ooooh, a bit of intrigue to spice it up. It's all gone political, and I like the emotions that are clearly bubbling under the surface. Keep it up my good fellow.

[Mali32]

Tis very good to see the more political side of this future world. Very good Imp. Keep it coming.

[Imperial Dragon]

Order up!



Jan nodded to Sarah and stepped back from the view of the camera. She took a data slate from the top of the pile and took Jan's place in front of the screen. The quadrant that showed an image of the tent now showed the former assassin, eyes downcast, catching her breath. Composed, she looked back up into the camera, facing the council representatives. The senior figures watched her closely, the slightest hint of contempt on their faces. Sarah tried to smile, but couldn't quite manage it.

“Thank you for your time.” she began. “As Lieutenant Taylor has stated, I am a former member of the Pariah order, a secret network of assassins that has been operating under the world's radar since before the start of the war. During my time there, I was known as Pariah 101, an elite officer in the service of my master, Pariah 01, also known as The Spartan. 01 was in charge of the main combat operations performed by the order and was the highest ranked warrior within the order, sitting at the head of the council of masters. Also under his command stood another ninety-nine assassins, other than myself, numbers 100 to 199. Another four masters, 02, 03 ,04 and 05 formed the remainder of the council with my master, and each was given command of another hundred warriors. In all, there are six hundred combat personnel within the organisation operating throughout the world.” The other soldiers in the room watched on intently as Sarah held the data slate out in front of her and activated the projector, displaying a holographic image of a world map into the air in front of her. On the screen the display covered her face in a thing veil or green light, showing the map to the people on the other side of the conference link as well. The map showed the continents of the world, covered in scattered clusters of green dots. “These are the last known positions of the Pariah field officers. As you can see, the order's tracking systems put them all across all three superpowers. Most are either in hiding or disguised as aides to world leaders and high ranking military officials. The order has its roots in every base of power on the planet.” She pressed another button and the map zoomed in to the east coast of the UNA. “As you can see, there is a much higher concentration of officers situated in Pittsburgh in Pennsylvania, part of what used to be the USA. A building known as 'The Night Tower' can be found in central Pittsburgh, a massive skyscraper-come-mansion. That building is Pariah HQ.”

Sarah deactivated the data slate in her hand and swapped it for another from the pile. Activating the second slate projected a hologram of the building that she described. “Every action that the order performs is directed from here. This is the masters' base of operations and the training centre for every officer within the order. All their weapons and equipment are stored here in vast armouries and it is here that their narcotics are created and administered.” The slide show of images of The Night Tower ceased, and she picked up the next slate. “Pariahs get their name from the drugs that they use, the performance enhancers that the new recruits take during their training and indoctrination. This drug was developed before the order began, initially to be administered in low doses to the American military, codenamed PARIAH. Repeated exposure to high concentrations of PARIAH induces certain mutations in the genetic code of the subject.” The next image projected was of a model of a Pariah assassin, unclothed. “The primary effect is that the drug acts as a competitive neurotransmitter. PARIAH diffuses across the synaptic clefts of the subject faster than natural neurotransmitters, increasing their reaction times. There are also a number of secondary effect, including a variant of albinism. The skin, hair and iris of the subject turns white or light grey. It also changes the structure of muscle mitochondria to greatly increase the subject's strength. Finally, the changes confer an accelerated level of cell division after an injury, allowing the subject to regenerate from wounds much faster than a normal human ever could. All of this makes the Pariahs lethal assassins that are almost impossible to stop, the only noticeable detriment being the increased chance of certain mental health issues.” Sets of clothing then materialised within the image and began to dress the model. “Pariahs are usually lightly armoured, their equipment designed more for manoeuvrability and stealth than defence due to their regeneration. Their equipment is primarily leather and cloth. Each warrior will have their own personalised weaponry, specific to the sector that they serve and the teachings of their master, but a combination of both ranged and close combat weaponry is common. Their only known weak point is here:” The image span again, turning to face the model's back. The clothing parted to show the now familiar external metal spinal cord. “This is the PARIAH injector. It is fused directly onto the Pariah's spine during the initial testing process and implants the drug directly into the cranial bloodstream at the base of the skull.” Sarah turned back towards Jan and smiled, before continuing. “When I was captured beneath the Palace in Warsaw, Lieutenant Taylor incapacitated me by delivering a powerful electrical charge to this injector, which knocked me unconscious. Targeting the system with any kind of weaponry and breaching it should overload the machinery inside and disable the assassin.”

The storm trooper stopped talking, deactivated the data slate and awaited her audience's verdict. Master Braun, the storm trooper master in Berlin, was first to reply. “That is all very interesting, Trooper, and if what you say is true then these people could indeed pose a security threat to our government. That said, I do have some questions. Firstly, what is it that you are requesting from us, exactly?”

Sarah cleared her throat. “These people must be stopped, master. I am requesting that high command considers a large scale assault on The Night Tower itself, to wipe out the order once and for all.”

“A direct attack on the American heartland, to take out one building?” the prime minister asked, shocked.

Before Sarah could explain herself, Braun interjected. “The resources required and political ramifications involved with an operation of that scale are simply inconceivable. You ask us to carve a path through the largest military stronghold in the UNA, destroying countless cities and millions of innocent lives to eliminate some phantom organisation that you claim to exist? On top of that, you request this much of us as nothing more than a basic storm trooper by rank and a convicted murderer by your own admission, with no evidence as to what this organisation threatens us with, other than a possible intelligence breach.”

“With all due respect, master, these people are trained killers. They pose a threat to whoever they are with and at present have free reign to manipulate and murder across the planet, unchecked.”

The room turned silent for a few awkward seconds, the high command council staring coldly into their cameras, turning their baleful glares on Sarah. General Anderson let out a deep sigh, then shook his head. “Jan, I don't think I can authorise this.”

“Is there anything else you can tell us about these people, miss Ibanez?” the Prime Minister asked.

Sarah was about to admit defeat and shake her head, then she stopped, dragging a memory up from the depths of her mind. “When I was just starting out, 01 showed me the teachings of our Father, the founder of the order and the creator of us all. He said that we were 'The Gatekeepers of Hell', that we had allowed the people of the world to doom themselves and that it was our duty to make sure they stayed doomed. He said that the world had betrayed out Father, and that this was his revenge.”

Another awkward silence followed. “I'm sorry, Ghosts, but this little crusade is not going to happen. Your information is greatly received, Trooper Ibanez, but I cannot give you what you ask, despite all that your team has done for our nation.” Prime Minister Belletti cleared her throat before continuing. “Your concerns are duly noted, and if such a situation should arise that these people do pose a visible threat, then we may reconsider. For the time being, I must refuse.”

Sarah's face was downcast, and Jan could tell that she was barely concealing her rage and frustration. Since her duel with 422 all she had talked about was finding and destroying her old comrades, and he felt that if she did not at least have the opportunity to die trying the pain would slowly consume her. For the time being, at least, she held her nerve. “Understood. Thank you for listening, prime minister, master, general. I will make sure these evidence slates are sent to the appropriate places for your examination.” She bowed to the screen, then replaced her data slates back onto the pile and walked back to her place in the line behind Jan. Jan stepped forward again into the view of the camera.

The master of the storm trooper corps leant back in his chair, the metal groaning audibly under the strain, then addressed Jan. “Although we will not permit an assault on this 'Night Tower', Lieutenant Taylor, we do have a similar strategy already in place. With the primary UNA marine strike crushed on the shores of Iceland and a large reserve force sitting idle here in Berlin, we are planning an attack on the Atlantic dockyard fortress outside of New York. A detachment of storm trooper corps carriers will group on Iceland, then move out to assist in the naval battle over the central Atlantic. Once a breach has been formed there, the strike force will assail the UNA naval base. Our objective is to destroy it, thus giving us a clear advantage in the Atlantic war. I've already dispatched the fleet to Iceland, they should be arriving shortly and we would like you to take part. The attack will be lead by your new host carrier.”

Jan frowned, confused by this revelation. “We haven't been told which our new carrier is yet, sir.”

A light flashed on Master Braun's desk, and he smiled for the first time during the conference. “Well, you won't need telling, lieutenant. Just look outside.”

With that, the session ended and the channel closed. Still frowning, Jan turned to exit the tent just as a sudden blast of air rocked the structure, threatening to tear it loose of its restraints. The room's occupants stumbled under the force, then regained their footing and ran outside. The roaring jets of wind muffled the shouts of the men and women in the camp outside as they ran across the complex, some of them just standing and staring upwards in awe. Commander Ingelsson and the Ghosts stopped out in the snow as one of the ammunition tents was blown over, the tarpaulin sent spinning across the snowfields at the mercy of the powerful winds. Jan looked upwards, shielding his eyes against the glare of the morning sun. He slowly allowed his hand to fall as the camp was cast into shadow, then turned to see what was the cause of it all. His anxious expression faded and formed a wide grin, then he let out a short laugh. Far above them, dwarfing the other carriers that floated around it with its immense size, the Ares hovered over the remains of the EDC fortifications.

[Cordova]

Again, quality stuff. I like the extra explanation of the Pariahs, and now I can't wait to see a) more fighting and b) them taking it to the Pariahs.

[Lemartes]

I finally had the time to catch up and read the last 2 updates, nice work mate, loving it, I'm looking forward to seeing the carriers do some more damage, they were wicked outside of Warsaw, I want to see what they can do against a more worthy opponent.

[Imperial Dragon]

Sorry about the wait everyone. I know it's been over a week since my last update but I'm having trouble fitting writing in around all the revision and exam work that I have to do (the main bulk of my exams are between the 1st and 18th of june). I should have a new update posted either tonight or tomorrow night, all going well, so watch this space and apologies again for the delay.

[Lemartes]

We're all hungry for more Impy! When do exams finish?

[Imperial Dragon]

Ack, it just hasn't been happening, has it? :(

Six exams to go, last one is on the 18th. I guess I'm going to have to be realistic and say that writing is most likely going to be postponed until after the last exam, but after that I promise I'll make up the lost time as quickly as I can. So, my apologies again for the delay and please do keep your interests up, I don't want to lose the followers I've accrued during the early writing because of this gap in production. Please stay tuned!

[Lemartes]

Oh don't worry, us die hard readers will keep reading even if it takes a month between updates, just wana know what happens ya see!

[Mali32]

Yeah. We're all addicted. We dont care how long it takes as long as we get some more Pariah. And it is great by the way. Really good reading. :D

[Imperial Dragon]

*Thud.*



PARIAH

Chapter Nineteen – Swordplay

Jan laid back in his bunk, hands resting on the pillow behind his head as he stared up at the capsule ceiling. The bed was a simple grey mattress inside a cuboid-shaped indentation into the thick metal wall of the cabin, one of two set into the far wall. He shifted his position slightly and sighed, continuing to stare at the top of the chamber as if he was trying to melt a hole through the metal simply by looking at it. Below him Fritz muttered in his sleep and rolled gently under the sheet, occasionally making noises that sounded ominously like gunshots then snickering to himself before slipping back into silence. Jan sighed, then turned his head to the side to look out into their new quarters. The room was large and roughly box-shaped, made entirely from burnished steel. Thick lines of rivets ran the up the walls and across the ceiling, probably there more for the aesthetic than for performing an actual function, Jan reasoned. On the far side a mirror hung on the wall over a heavy metal sink, scattered droplets of blood flecking the glass and basin alike. A steel bench rested against the right-hand wall, its surface barren, next to the two armour racks that held the storm troopers' equipment. The chamber was mainly soundproofed but the echoes of footsteps in the corridor outside rang faintly through the door. Jan rolled over again and closed his eyes.

His eyes snapped open again almost immediately as the Lukas' dreams in the bunk below woke the sniper up. He blinked, grunted and flexed his arms, swearing in German as he banged his elbow on the side of the metal coffin. Making yet more noise he twisted under the sheets and swung his arm around to try and find the clock, his hand crashing down on the small metal table by his bedside until he finally grasped the alarm. The scout picked it up and drearily held it inches from his face, swearing again as he looked at the display. Rolling onto his back, he dropped the clock back onto the table and looked up at the bottom of Jan's bunk above him. Jan remained motionless and pretended to be asleep as his squad mate blundered around in the bunk below. A few more seconds passed in silence and just as the lieutenant risked sliding his eyelids together once more he was interrupted by the sound of Fritz slapping the metal panel that divided one bunk from the other.

“Jan, you awake? Sir?”

Jan sighed, glaring at the metal ceiling. “Yes, strangely enough.”

Lukas carried on talking, ignoring the disgruntled tone in his squad leader's voice. “Guess you can't sleep either.”

“There have been some interrupting factors, yeah.”

Fritz paused, though he was still too tired to sense Jan's sarcasm. “Where do you think we are?”

“Mid-Atlantic still, at a guess. The fleet commander is holding the Ares back until we receive word from the navy. We're here to punch through the UNA cordon and get to New York, we're not supposed to be worrying about fighting their gunboats unless we have to.”

“Well, surely we are going to have to shoot a few of them to get through? They're not just going to let a carrier fleet this big just pass overhead without a fight.”

“True, but I don't even know if they have anything capable of scratching us. I know that Asian Tesla cannon thing came out of nowhere, but the imps are hardly going to be sharing tech with the Americans.” Jan adjusted his position, itching at his growing stubble. “Basically I think they mean we're not getting deployed until we reach the mainland. If we do have to fight, the carriers will just blast a hole in them with the particle guns.”

“What's the plan when we get to New York then?” Lukas asked.

“I'm not sure, I haven't been briefed too well. We don't seem to have this pointless hero status on board here that we did on the ground. Apparently there's some kind of naval cordon at a shipyard in the bay just outside the city that we make land at, then when we clear that the drop ships will take us into the city itself with carrier support. Basically I think the objective is to kill off this sea battle in the Atlantic and make a beachhead in New York, so that the ground forces can take a foothold in the country.”

The scout chuckled to himself and looked over towards the door. “You're right about the hero thing.”

Jan smiled for the first time that morning. “Yeah. Have you seen the black ops guys they've got on board here?”

“Yes. Very well equipped, very arrogant.” Lukas laughed and grinned broadly. “What did you say they were again? Anal holes or something?”

Jan grinned back. “Something like that, yeah.”

The pair slipped back into silence as the minutes ticked by, light returning to the world outside the windowless cabin. Jan gave up on trying to get back to sleep and pushed himself out of the bunk, jumping down onto the room floor with an audible thud. Lukas sat up on the edge of the bed and rubbed his eyes as Jan pulled on his boots and blue jumpsuit. Jan then washed as his comrade dressed himself, then Lukas sat back down on his bunk.

“Have you talked to Sarah?” Fritz asked, a note of concern evident in his usually impassive voice.

“No. Not since Iceland.”

Silence returned to the room, both soldiers lost in their own thoughts. “I guess getting rejected like that must have hit her pretty hard.”

“She's convinced that these pariahs have to be stopped, but I still get the feeling that she knows more than she's letting on. I mean, sure, they're assassins, they're all over the world and probably taking orders from the UNA government, but surely that's for EMI3 to look into. She hasn't given us any evidence to authorise high command flying this thing to Pittsburgh and nuking some skyscraper.” Jan sighed to himself. “I don't know. I want to trust her, but it's hard to have that much faith in someone who was swinging a sword at your neck not so long ago.”

Lukas gathered his confidence before he spoke again. “What's going on with you and her then?”

“Nothing.” the lieutenant snapped back.

“You sure, sir? She seems pretty taken with you.”

“Like I said, we haven't spoken since Iceland. We both have a job to do. Now, can we change the subject please?”

“Sorry, lieutenant. I guess we're all on edge since we lost Jones. Did you see the Ghoul that killed him?”

Jan's reply was immediate, like a reflex. “No. I never even saw Gav's body. Do you think it was a good idea putting Sarah and Sascha in the same room?”

Lukas grinned again. “Policy, I guess. No mixed rooms so we don't have much of a choice unless you want to saddle one of the black ops girls with a super powered ex-assassin. Besides, it will do them both some good.”

“Let's hope so. To be honest with you I'm pretty sick of this sitting around. I'd rather just get this over with.”

“I thought you hated the idea of fighting in America.”

“I do. I just want to get in, take the city, get back out again. I'm guessing this is how Ei and Mika felt before we dropped into Iceland.”

Fritz paused, again aware that what he was about to say could well have an adverse effect on the officer. “When was the last time you spoke to Ali?”

Jan's head was bowed. “I can't remember. He's my only family and I can't even remember what he looks like. All I know is that he lives in the northern states. I know that the chance of actually meeting him in battle is incredibly slim but there is a chance nonetheless.”

“Like you said, we have a job to do.” The sounds of movement from outside the room became more pronounced as the day shift crew of the Ares woke up. Lucas stood back up from the bed and stretched, his joints clicking as the tide of rippling muscle that covered his body contorting his shape even through the thick jumpsuit. He caught sight of the weapons rack as he stood. “Are going to keep that thing?” he asked, motioning towards the sword that leant against the arrangement of heavy blue armour.

“Why not?” Jan asked, smiling at the weapon.

“Well, you've never used one before. Plus it's a Ghoul blade. Those things have killed thousands of EDC soldiers.”

“There's no such thing as a bad weapon. It's just a lump of metal, it's not like the thing's possessed. And I like it, I've got some kind of talent for it or something.”

Before Lukas could open his mouth to protest again someone knocked on the thick plate metal door. Jan turned around and pressed the panel on the frame to slide to plate back. Waiting in the opening, leaning on the frame in her tight-fitting jumpsuit stood Sarah. Her hair was thin and ragged and her face sunken in with stress and fatigue. A thin leather strap crossed her chest, holding a steel and leather scabbard onto her back.

Jan smiled when he saw her, and stepped aside to let her into the room. She shook her head. “What're you two doing?”

“Just sat around, nothing better to do. Did they not have any clothes in your size?”

Sarah shrugged. “I like it.”

When Lukas noticed who was at the door he practically leapt up from the wall that he had been leaning on and tried to make himself seen with Jan blocking the entrance. “Hey Sarah!” he called out, not working as hard as he could have done to hide his excitement.

Sarah barely looked up as she noticed him. “Oh, hey Lukas, didn't see you there.” She turned back to the lieutenant. “So, you're not busy?”

Jan smirked. “What do you think? No one on this ship is doing anything except the flight crew. We're all just waiting for fleet command to sink a few battleships and drop us off on the shipyard.”

“Well, do you want to get some practice in with that thing then?” She pointed at the sword leaning against the weapons rack.

“Yeah, sure. Don't you need some armour or something then?”

The trooper managed a smile. “Unless you're planning on hacking my limbs or head off you can't hurt me. If you're lucky I'll try and not cut you up too badly either.”

Jan grinned and shook his head in despair. He turned round, picked up the sword from the weapons rack, fastened the cord with the magnetic clamps that attached to the hilt of the weapon around his neck, nodded to Lukas and followed Sarah out of the room. The scout sat back down on the bed, noticeably deflated.

***

The two storm troopers walked along the corridors in silence, Sarah leading the way. From the way she had memorised the layout of each deck that they passed through from the combat personnel quarters to the training deck and the fatigue evident in her eyes it was plain to see that she had spent several restless hours roaming the colossal vessel. The pair had still not spoken by the time they reached the double doors that lead to the Ares' training centre. As the doors opened, a corridor lined with glass-walled chambers was unveiled. The massive room rang with the clamour of battle as gunfire from hundreds of firing ranges echoed throughout the chamber. Sarah stepped back as they passed through the doors to allow Jan to take point. The lieutenant strode over to the desk in front of them in the middle of the wide passageway and saluted to the man behind the desk. He wore a similar jumpsuit to the ones that Jan and Sarah wore, but with a black V-shape cutting across his chest. Golden markings on his shoulders signified the fact that the man was a major within the storm trooper corps. The major nodded to the two soldiers in front of him and leant back in his chair, his face a picture of contempt.

“Name, Rank, Squad, Business.” he snapped.

“Jan Taylor, Lieutenant, Ghost Team. We need an open area training cell, please.”

The man snorted and his top lip twisted into a sneer as he looked back at Jan. “'Ghost Team'? Please. We don't want your idiotic nicknames here, lieutenant.”

Jan's gaze did not waver despite the abuse. “Squad C084.”

“Thank you.” The major looked down at the sheets of paper on his desk, perusing the data on them far slower than was necessary. Finally he looked back up at the lieutenant. “Cell 108 is free, your squad number will open the door when you enter it into the keypad. Will you be needing any equipment?”

“No, thank you.” Jan paused and peered past the man at the numbers printed on the first few chambers along the corridor. “That says cell 01, where's 108?”

The sneer returned. “Further along.”

Jan led Sarah past the desk and along the corridor before either of them were riled up any further. It took them at least ten minutes of walking to find the cell that had been set aside for them. When they finally reached it and opened the glass door, they found themselves in a cavernous empty room, completely devoid of life or furnishings of any kind. Jan looked around the chamber, momentarily confused by the expanse of glass, metal and light. Sarah jogged past him, a familiar energy returning to her movements. Jan walked after her and as she reached a point about halfway across the vast room she stopped and turned to face him, drawing her longsword from the sheath on her back. Jan stopped where he was, took a step back away from his silver-haired opponent, gripped the hilt of his sword with one hand and pressed the button on the clip around his neck with the other. The magnets that held the weapon in place down his spine released the blade, allowing him to swing the perfectly weighted weapon around with ease. The two warriors faced each other calmly.

“Duel to submission, avoid wounding wherever possible and admit when you've lost.” Sarah called out over the din from the other cells.

Jan laughed. “What makes you think I'll need to admit defeat?”

His opponent grinned back at him, back in her element at last. “Because this is what I was born to do.” With that, she charged towards him. Jan strode forward, his sword held in his right hand, the point aimed for the trooper's chest. He watched Sarah advance on him, marvelling at her speed and agility. Without warning she leapt into the air, her bound taking her at least ten feet off the polished metal floor. “Block!” she shouted, Jan bringing his much heavier blade up just up time to cover a punishing strike for his head. He barely held back the force of the blow, Sarah's inhuman strength almost denting the metal itself as she landed. Jan was knocked backwards and had to stagger to regain his footing as she came at him again.

“I thought we weren't cutting each other up!”

Sarah's cold grin was wider than ever. “I said 'if you're lucky'.” Her weapon lashed out again, missing Jan's chest by inches. Jan stepped back as she flicked the blade around in her hand, negating its momentum and driving it point first towards her squad leader's throat. Jan brought his huge sword up again and practically punched hers out of the way. Sarah's arms seemed to flow with the momentum as she brought the blade around again for another overhead strike. This time Jan was faster, blocking in the same way that he had the first time but putting his whole body weight behind the parry, effectively shunting Sarah backwards. His blade arced around over his head as he revolved his wrists, striking towards her temple. She nimbly stepped back out of the sword's path, then planted her boot on Jan's back and kicked him to the floor. The lieutenant rolled to his feet, his limbs sapped of energy already. Sarah strode towards him and swung her blade upwards in a feint designed to draw her opponent's guard away from his body. The move worked, Jan swinging his sword aimlessly wide to block a blow that was never going to land. Sarah stepped forward and prodded him in the ribs with the point of her sword, ensuring that the blade did not pierce the cloth of the jumpsuit. “Advice: don't do that.”

Jan glared back at her and mounted an offensive. She jumped backwards to avoid a lashing blow aimed for her torso. With near supernatural reflexes she brought her own blade up, holding the grip with one hand and the flat of the point with the other to stop Jan's downward strike towards her head. The senior storm trooper's eyes flashed for a second as he stepped forwards, sliding the cross-guard of his weapon against his opponent's blade edge, then spinning around and bringing the blade sweeping dangerously for Sarah's lower legs. Her eyes widened as she saw what he was doing and she sprang into the air again, her boots just passing over the top of the swinging weapon. As she landed with Jan behind her she jumped forwards, rolled and stood back up to face him again.

“What the hell was that for? I told you no limbs.”

“I thought you could heal.”

Sarah's expression was similar to a thundercloud. “Yes, I can, but I'd have to induce a coma in myself for a few weeks while I grew my feet back and then I'd have to spend a day or two re-teaching myself how to walk. It's not a good feeling. Considering we're landing in New York pretty soon I would rather have the standard issue levels of control over my own body, thank you.” She flexed her neck and flicked her sword around in her hand. “Actually, now I think about it, where did you learn that?”

Jan grinned impishly at her. “Instinct.”

“Well then, lets see how far that 'instinct' takes you. Just move your feet, or it'll be you that loses them.” Sarah ran forward again, levelling a torrent of blows at the lieutenant. After the first few strikes evaded his defences and cut bloody slits in his jumpsuit, Jan began to move quicker despite his lack of energy. Slowly but surely Sarah's lacklustre attacks lost their potency as he parried and twisted away from each blow. As both fighters began to tire, Jan let loose a lazy backhanded swing towards Sarah's head. She ducked, deflected the attack and jabbed Jan between the legs with the point of her sword. The lieutenant flinched away and swore as his opponent giggled to herself.

“That is not funny!” he snapped, backing way further. Sarah continued to giggle and thrust her sword towards his midriff again. As she did so her whole world shook as if she had been punched by a giant. She was thrown forward, all but blinded but the force with which the room was moving around her and the speed with which she herself was moving. Her sword embedded itself in something that made a wet noise as the weapon landed. The sound of shattering glass cascaded around her as her face met solid metal and the taste of blood entered her mouth. Her vision went black and sparks danced lazily across her imagination. After a few seconds the shock wave dissipated and she managed to open her eyes, blinking as they uncrossed themselves and her eyesight was restored. She looked down at the floor of the training cell, the metal stained with her blood as she felt a throbbing pain from the middle of her face and realised that her nose had broken. Gathering the last of her energy she concentrated on the wound and felt the pain ebb away as the bone and cartilage knitted back together. She spat more blood and craned her neck to look up. Intricate webs of cracks the width of her arm criss-crossed the panes of glass that made up the walls of the cell and through them she could see the hazy outlines of other storm troopers picking themselves up from the floor. Just then, she heard a grunt and a swearword to the right of her head and twisted around to identify the source of the noise. Jan lay on his back, blood dripping from the back of his skull as he tried to sit up. Sarah's sword was embedded point down in his left flank, the blue jumpsuit rapidly turning purple. He looked down at his injury, swore again and gripped the hilt of the blade with both hands. The lieutenant wrenched the blade free, roaring in pain at the ceiling as he did so. Gasping for air, Jan let the weapon fall to the ground at his side, then looked over towards his squad mate, still panting.

“What the hell is it with you and stabbing people?”

[Jinxie]

omgomgomgomg YAY!!!

I love it, Lukas is so adorable, I want him! <3

I'm excited for the next bit, you gonna be posting regularly again? :)

[Imperial Dragon]

I'm excited for the next bit, you gonna be posting regularly again? :)

Yes :D I'm aiming to get an update done every couple of days if i can. It depends on what else I have to do. I'm trying to get extra hours at work and I'm joining a gym next week I think, but I still should have more than enough time to give this the attention it needs :)

[Mali32]

WOW.
That was brilliant Imp. Cant wait for more. Very cool. :D

[Cordova]

Awesome.
But despite Lukas being deflated, if he does anything rash I will be forced to hurt you...

:)

[Jinxie]

Are we to expect another instalment today Mr Impy?
*is excited*

[Imperial Dragon]

Are we to expect another instalment today Mr Impy?
*is excited*

I've got a page and a half written, I'm writing more during the grand prix then we're off out for father's day things later on. If my head's clear enough to write well I'm expecting to have a half chapter at least posted by tonight.

[Imperial Dragon]

Finally :D This one's been a devil to write, most of the middle section has been rewritten at least four times through with me trying to get it to a standard that I was happy with. This one's going to be a pretty long chapter I'm guessing, so this update only takes you half way through. I'm going to go collapse somewhere now, so read on and enjoy!




PARIAH

Chapter Twenty – Breaching The Cordon

Jan and Sarah sprinted along the maze of corridors as the tremors subsided, alarms still ringing along the passageways accompanied by flashing bands of red lighting. Lines of wide video screens were dispersed along the passage walls, flashing black and red. With the words “RED ALERT” printed across them. As the two Ghosts followed a steady stream of black ops storm troopers headed for the upper levels relayed orders from the command deck cut through the blaring alarms.

“Ares command to all personnel. Red alert. Repeat: Red alert. Gunnery crews to battle stations, ready heavy ordnance. Ground troops to arms, prepare to engage possible boarding parties. Air crews, man your craft. Hostile air units inbound. All non-combat personnel to emergency stations. This is not a drill. The fleet is under hostile naval attack. Repeat: This is not a drill. God speed to you all.”

As the pair reached the top of the flight of stairs leading to their quarters, a storm trooper officer stood before them, shouting orders and waving the men under his charge onwards. A thin trickle of blood was dripping from his right eyebrow down his cheek. Jan stepped out of the crowd and grabbed the man by the shoulder.

“Soldier. What the hell is going on here?”

The officer stopping shouting and bent over to catch his breath. “It's the Icarus. She's gone.”

All across the massive vessel the thousands of men and women rushed to follow their own specific set of orders. Armour plating panels in the keel of the ship retracted, each wider than a skyscraper, revealing the twelve spine-like particle cannons that protruded from the base of the craft towards the sea below. The weapons revolved in their housings as they charged up and selected their targets. The engine columns that ran the length of the keel, much larger than in a standard carrier, tilted into position and flared powerfully, sending cascading spirals of white flame into the morning sky as the propulsion decks brought the colossal war machine to a shuddering halt. The primary thrusters on the rear of the Ares slowly died, transferring the duty of keeping the hundreds of thousands of tonnes of metal airborne to the keel engines. The top deck was a hive of activity as the flagship carrier readied its defensive fighter squadrons. Pilots and launch crew scrambled to the thousands of jets being readied, an army of white lights illuminating the deck as the aircraft's MPEC generators powered up and taxied the planes into position. On the Ares' left flank the shield system reactivated with a flash of blue light, the cloud of twisted shrapnel that was floating a few hundred metres from the ship's hull disintegrating. As the vessel readied itself for battle, the extent of the situation around her became clear.

Far below the Ares and just ahead of her, the EDC navy's front line could be seen, furiously exchanging blows with the much larger UNA equivalent. The water was littered with burning wreckage for miles around, a morbid tribute to the months of exchanging lives and machinery for no gain from either side. Further into the distance the heavy battleships of the American defence fleet hurled a devastating barrage of shells into the confederate cruisers, their shields barely holding back the onslaught. In the centre of the UNA formation was a circle of six cruisers, their decks devoted to carrying a single massive cannon each. The rest of the American battle line shielded these gunboats as they positioned themselves to face the incoming carrier fleet, their railguns crackling with pale blue energy. As the lines of ships stretched into the distance to either side of the Ares, several more pockets of these gunboats could be seen, simply waiting for one of the EDC's titanic weapons to appear on the horizon. The railguns' power cells were still allowing the last of their energy to slip away as their gunners admired their handiwork. Moments before, fifteen confederate carriers with the Ares at the prow of the formation had been pressing onwards towards their allied battleships, the naval contingent carriers flanking wider to open up a supposedly clear path. Fleet command were aware of the level of technology used by the UNA in their anti-carrier convoys but had underestimated the Americans' preparation. As soon as the bulk of the Ares was in range the six gunboats ahead of them fired in perfect unison, the warheads from their railguns hitting the carrier on the Ares' left wing, the Icarus, directly in the centre of the keel. The explosion tore a gaping crater in the hull of the ship, penetrating the ammunition bays and generator and causing a chain reaction of explosions that tore the carrier apart in a colossal fireball. Every man and woman on board was killed within seconds of the impact. Lumps of shrapnel the size of houses span out across the sky, embedding themselves in the Ares' left flank shields and raining down into the sea below. One of the storm trooper corps' veteran carriers with years of proud history since the start of the war, her charges elite troopers with irreplaceable skills and experience, all of them annihilated in seconds. All along the UNA cordon the fluid mosaic of ships began to rearrange itself, the railgun-equipped gunboats manoeuvring themselves to meet the new threat. The crew of the gunboat convoy ahead of the Ares desperately moved to reload their weapons and prepare to fire again, the looming shadow of the supercarrier creeping ever closer as the titanic airship prepared to avenge its fallen sister with biblical fury.

***

Squadron Leader Sebastian Lensing vaulted from the top of the stepladder and swung himself into the open cockpit of his XF-81 fighter. After clipping the buckles on his seat over his flight suit and running the craft through the start up sequence he slid the blast shield on his helmet into place, the rest of his squadron powering up their own fighters just behind him. The clear plastic canopy slid into place overhead and he gunned the engines, a blast of white fire ripping its way free of the tail of his craft in answer. He looked up from the controls, the runway that ran the length of the carrier's top deck stretching out before him. He could feel the power of the aircraft all around him, the deep hum of its electrics gradually drowned out by the roar of its primary thrusters as he prepared for take off. Far away into the distance he could see the gigantic cone-like engines of the carriers ahead in the fleet ahead of them, the brilliant white light inside them dying away as the ships' commanders set their craft to hover over the battlefield below. Sebastian had not seen the Icarus' demise but he had felt the shock wave even on board the Styx, his own home vessel. Right at the front of the fleet he could see their flagship, the Ares, recharging her shields and readying herself to return fire. Beyond her, out over the sea and behind the enemy naval cordon he could make out the band of tiny grey specks in the sky that was his target.

A green light flashed on on the deck in front of his XF-81's nose cone. Sebastian locked his jaw and opened the throttle, feeling the familiar sense of exhilaration that had first made him want to become a pilot as the aircraft jerked forwards. The three pilots behind him mirrored his actions precisely, all four fighters accelerating fast. Within seconds they reached the end of their section of runway and the squadron leader hauled the control column backwards, releasing his breath as the aircraft lifted free from the carrier. The fighter's computers automatically engaged the basic reheat systems as the wheels left the runway, increasing the engine power and shunting Sebastian forward in his seat as his craft blasted into the air. All around him he could see the hundreds of other squadrons like his performing an identical routine in perfect unison, the sky above the carrier fleet shrouded by a veil of heavily armed interceptors. Sebastian's wingmen swung wide to flank him on either side, while the fourth member of their group took up the tail position. Taking another deep breath as he levelled out at their set altitude for attack, he opened the communications channel to the rest of his team.

“Squadron Leader Lensing to all units, callsign Swordsman. Sound off.”

One by one the squadron reported in. “Flight Officer Firano, callsign Cobra. Left wing.”

“Flight Officer Pellegrini, callsign Flare. Right wing.”

“Flight Officer Alcides, callsign Tomcat. Tail.”

Satisfied, Sebastian returned to the microphone. “Swordsman to all units. Follow my flight path and stay in formation. Weapons free on my mark. Good hunting.”

***

The gunnery decks of carrier Helios were a riot of dazed crew and furiously shouting officers. Deep in the bowels of he ship hundreds of engineers operated the twisting web of machinery that controlled the angle and firing of the carrier's main weapons. Lines of conduits pulsing with energy twisted along the deck before wrapping themselves around the particle cannon barrels like constricting snakes, feeding the incredibly complex compressors, accelerators and ionisation chambers that created the lethal beam. A matrix of walkways, tunnels and control centres slipped between the various weapons systems, the gunnery crews darting to and fro between their assigned stations as the carrier prepared to attack. The hull beneath the engineers' feet rumbled and shook as a barrage of heavy ordnance struck the Helios' shields from the UNA navy below. The whole deck was turned into a furnace as the carrier's commander ordered the particle cannons to be primed, a high pitched whining filling the area that would puncture the eardrums of anyone within miles of the source were it not for the engineers' protective gear. The red lights lining the deck were obliterated by an intense burst of white light that flooded the gantries as the cannons activated, enough energy to power an entire nation being routed from the MPEC generators into the barrels' systems.

Far above the engineering levels Admiral Jens Schaap watched the swarm of fighter aircraft streak away from the head of the carrier formation towards the encroaching enemy air force. From his position on the raised command deck at the front of the Helios he could see the sky ahead of them and the burning sea below. The command computer projected a display onto the clear glass walls and floor of the deck, showing him the angle of his crafts weapons, the ship's speed, trajectory and performance statistics and highlighting enemy targets as well as the range from his particle cannons to the enemy ships. To his left he could see the titanic bulk of the Ares as the Admiral of the Fleet adjusted their course and prepared to breach the UNA defences. To his right was clear sky, marred only by the squadrons of fighters swooping away from the six carriers behind his own vessel. The Admiral watched on impassively as his ship slowed to a halt, hovering over the EDC attack fleet below, their enemies levelling a torrent of high explosive shells at the gargantuan war machine's shields. Each of the shells that hit the ship would have been enough to flatten a small coastal town and kill hundreds, yet against the confederate carriers the only noticeable effect of each barrage was a 1% drop in shield capacity. A speaker symbol flashed green in the corner of the Admiral's HUD over the Ares and he returned to his seat, activating the communications link as he relaxed.

“Helios to Ares, receiving, over.”

“The projected flight path has been added to your display, Admiral. You have a priority one target contingent approaching from your open flank. Maintain your vigilance and destroy it should it pose a threat. Until that point, follow the flagship's lead and punch through as quickly as possible. Engines to full throttle. Weapons free. Fire at will. Ares out.”

Admiral Schaap deactivated the link and stood from his chair again, hands clasped behind his back. Pointing at the screen in front of him he traced out a haze of red light that complimented the route of the command vessel, then selected a series of battleships on the UNA side of the naval battleground below. The colours flashed briefly then disappeared, the officers seated at the computer banks behind him spurred into action as the orders reached their consoles. The carrier shook with an immense roar as the engines powered up again, pushing the giant craft onwards. Another green light flashed up on the HUD, in the opposite corner to the first icon. Jens smiled at icon with a sense of satisfaction and power. He turned around again to face his command crew, the smile remaining on his face.

“Fire at will.”

***

Jan burst back into his quarters, gasping for air. Lukas was stood by the weapons rack, slipping the leather strap that held his sniper rifle onto his shoulder. His helmet was in place, the mirrored visor staring back at the lieutenant, devoid of emotion as usual. As he recovered from the run across the carrier, Jan staggered over to the rack next to his team's scout and began to pull his heavy armour plating on over his bloodstained jumpsuit. Lukas' hand on his shoulder stopped him before he could clip his breastplate in place.

“What happened to you?” the sniper asked, pointing at the hole in the squad leader's clothing.

Jan looked down at the wound. The tear in the suit was still soaked with blood but no more was leaking out. The skin underneath was red, but seemed mainly undamaged. “Fell over when the Icarus got blown up. I'll be fine.”

“The Icarus got blown up?”

“That's what they're saying. Apparently the Americans have got transporters on the way too. They think we're going to get boarded, so we're suiting up.” He continued sliding the armour plates into position, sealing the moulded joints together and pulling on his helmet. “So now I guess we just wait here, see if we're needed.”

Lukas nodded. “Where's Sarah?”

“Back in her quarters, she's fine. She broke her nose when the shock wave hit but she's fixed that easily enough.”

He nodded again, then wandered over into the open area at the centre of the room, venting steam from his armour as he did so. More rumbles continued to reverberate through the ship as he leant against the wall by the bunks again and tilted his head backwards. “This is going to be a bumpy ride.”

[Mali32]

That was brilliant Imp. Lots of fun and action. Looks like it is gonna be a cool battle. Cant wait for more but dont push yourself too hard. Truly brilliant :D

[Cordova]

Awesome Imp. Keep it coming. :)

[Lemartes]

Awesome, I love the carrier action, i've been looking forward to reading more on them...

[The Dark Pwner]

Yo ive just started reading..... im only on chapter ...8. I cant beleive this... THIS IS BRILLIANT! your so talented its unreal....
Ive been looking at peoples comments and I cant w8 to read more. IMO that stOry writer medal came in to late, you passed that way back. Thing is this is all done while DOING EXAMS?.....? unbelievable? keep up the good work.

[Imperial Dragon]

Yo ive just started reading..... im only on chapter ...8. I cant beleive this... THIS IS BRILLIANT! your so talented its unreal....
Ive been looking at peoples comments and I cant w8 to read more. IMO that stOry writer medal came in to late, you passed that way back. Thing is this is all done while DOING EXAMS?.....? unbelievable? keep up the good work.

:oops:

But in all seriousness, thankyou so much! :D Again, massive thanks to everyone following this, the thread has exceeded 2000 views and the story as a whole has just passed the 100 page mark on open office. More to come shortly so thankyou all again for your support and watch this space!

[The Dark Pwner]

Where are you Imperial Dragon? Were so lonely!

[Jinxie]

Where are you Imperial Dragon? Were so lonely!

I dub thee Imperial Dragon's fanboy.

We should totally start a club, and get jackets...
:smt016

[Imperial Dragon]

Where are you Imperial Dragon? Were so lonely!

I'll have an update done by tonight :D chapter 20's been a nightmare to write but I'm getting there slowly.

[Jinxie]

Show support for the Impy! ~ Sig img...


http://40kforums.com/imageupload/images/img4a49f0693a616.jpg (http://40kforums.com/phpBB3/viewtopic.php?f=4&t=58878)

:wink:

[Imperial Dragon]

Done. Finally. The number of times this chapter has been rewritten is ridiculous but I've got there at last :D Hopefully things should run smoother from now on with getting back to the people rather than the explosions, which I think is one of the reasons I havent got on so with with this update. I like Jan and Sarah and Lukas and Ei and Mika and Sascha, they're more fun than my other characters :D But anyway, I digress. Here's the rest of chapter 20. Enjoy.







***

A thunderous bellow tore the heavens asunder as the fleet advanced. As one the titanic carriers switched all of their reserve power to the primary thrusters and tore through the sky at an alarming rate, faster than any sea-bound ship ever could. The UNA fleet moved to respond but the battleships could not manoeuvre quickly enough to escape the European attack. Within seconds the Ares towered over the EDC battle line, its baleful shadow casting the naval fleet into twilight despite the ferocity of the midday sun overhead. The Helios tore through the air close behind and to the right, while to the left of the flagship lay empty air, vacated by the passing of the Icarus. Twelve more carriers swept over the confederate battleships below. The gunners stationed at the largest cannons that the Americans were able to bring to bear watched on helplessly as their ordnance deflected away from the hulls of the massive warships. Far ahead of the carriers their interceptor fighter squadrons passed over the UNA cordon, met with a hail of anti-aircraft fire. The weapons on the ships below took a heavy toll on the jets as they streaked overhead, but the majority of the craft weathered the storm and swept onwards towards their counterparts who were now clearly visible ahead.

Only a few minutes passed before the Ares had crossed open water and began bearing down on the section of the enemy cordon designated for the breach. Directly ahead lay the gunboat cell that had shot down her sister craft and the supercarrier spurred itself onwards as though every inch of metal was alive with a lust for revenge. A faint pulse of blue light emanating from each of the six railgun vessels warned of the imminent bombardment, the crews having completed their reloading in record time. Each of the turrets rotated in its housing to face the carrier at the head of the confederate attack fleet. This time there would be no reason to aim anywhere else. The Ares was in range and viable to be blasted apart. The blue glow became stronger as the flagship continued its approach, undaunted by the spectacle witnessed earlier. Just as the railguns entered the final firing sequence the confederacy unleashed its unstoppable fury once again. The front six particle cannons on the Ares' keel erupted simultaneously with a terrible crack, a burst of white energy lighting up the sky as if a new sun was being born. The six deadly beams punched down onto their targets with lethal precision, each one striking one of the cell's gunboats directly in the centre of the deck. The ships exploded in an instant, the Ares' cannons reducing the metres thick armour plating to dust. Ammunition detonated, tearing what remained of the cell asunder in a cataclysmic chain reaction, The particle beams continued on through the wreckage of their intended targets and lanced into the sea itself. The water exploded into a colossal cloud of steam that clung to the mushroom cloud of smoke and flames left behind by the destroyed gunboats. The particle beams powered down, their immense payloads having done their damage.

Despite the ferocity of the attack, the hole created by the Ares' initial onslaught seemed insignificant as the extent of the American navy stretched out before the carrier fleet. Thousands of battleships stood between them and the next expanse of open water. Beyond that lay the New Island Shipyard, and beyond that the city that it guarded: New York City. The Ares pushed onwards, cruising through the air as the UNA naval forces twisted around in the water below to meet the new threat. The other carriers behind her began to open fire in unison as they advanced, the thunderous report of the weapons tearing the very air apart just as well as the particle beams tore through the enemy navy. A few minutes had passed and already at least a hundred ships were ablaze, the first deadly assault from the carriers annihilating enemy battleships on all sides. The Ares fired again with all twelve cannons as its escorts reloaded, channelling inordinate amounts of power from the vast series of MPEC generators within each ship down to the gunnery decks and into the weapon systems.

***

Squadron Leader Lensing opened the throttle on his XF-81 as the American navy disappeared into the distance behind him. As the craft accelerated faster and faster towards the mainland of the northern states the enemy fighters that had been nothing but a light dusting of specks on the canopy earlier were now approaching rapidly. Two airborne curtains of steel swept towards each other across the churning water below, oblivious of the carnage wrought upon the UNA navy by the confederate carrier fleet. Sebastian kept one eye on the encroaching enemy air force and the other on the leading ranks of his own side as he advanced, his own squadron maintaining a tight formation around him. As the clear air between the front of the EDC squadrons and their UNA counterparts closed the aircraft deployed their weaponry. The missile pods under the wings folded into place and the main cannons under the nose slid free of their housings. As the confederate fighters revealed their weaponry the drag that they experienced increased and their speed dropped noticeably, straight line power sacrificed or increased mobility. All around Sebastian the other pilots copied the actions of those in front of them with precision born from innumerable hours of training. The two lines of aircraft continued to encroach on one another until a warning light flashed red on Sebastian's HUD, indicating that he was within firing range of the enemy forces. As soon as the light came on the ordered air force around him exploded into life, fights swooping high and low, twisting back on themselves or spearing towards the enemy, turning the organised ranks and squadrons into a melee. The dogfight had started.

Sebastian dipped the nose of his craft and opened the throttle again, the fighter twisting into a corkscrew as it dived towards the sea. His wingmen followed close behind, their formation splitting apart as the pilots fought to manoeuvre their way through the mass of disordered aircraft. All he could see was a shifting mosaic of blue and white metal, the spiralling mixture of sea and sky enough to send any lesser man insane. The craft rolled out of the dive before careering towards the enemy air force upside down at top speed. A few seconds of clear air appeared in front of the canopy before the first enemy fighter dropped into view. Without thinking the squadron leader let his finger slip onto the firing pad on the control column, the craft's weapons systems immediately locking onto the fighter in front of him and releasing a pair of warheads. Before the American pilot could react both missiles impacted on either side of the nose cone, the high explosives breaching the cockpit, incinerating the pilot and decapitating the aircraft. Sebastian rolled his fighter again, righting the craft and accelerating once again into the heart of the enemy forces, opening the comms channel to his team as he did so.

“Swordsman to wing and tail, pick up. You still there?”

“Cobra to Swordsman. Still here sir.”

“Flare. Pretty shot up but I've taken two down already.” The communications channel went silent for a few seconds before the other pilot responded. “Shit, sorry, had another on my tail. Flare out.”

“Tomcat. I'm surrounded. Could really use some help here guys.”

Sebastian swung his fighter into a barrel roll, firing off a burst of rounds from the cannon built into the ship's nose as he spun. The UNA fighter ahead of him spat flames and limped away, the rockets that it had fired scattering harmlessly wide. Levelling out, he yawed sharply to the left to bring the icon that highlighted Tomcat's position into view. The EDC aircraft was twisting and turning in the midst of a swarm of white American jets, evading bullets and missiles by millimetres. The squadron leader gunned the engines once again, diving through the melee towards his stricken comrade.

“Really need that assist now, people. They're all over me.” Tomcat's voice was shaking.

Swordsman swore under his breath and willed his fighter onwards. Bullets rang off his flanks as he sped by but he barely noticed the impacts, nor the warning lights flashing on his control console. An explosion rattled through the intercom and the pilot saw his squad mate take the impact, barely holding his craft steady. The metal of Tomcat's left wing buckled as the warhead hit, but the fighter stayed in the air. Finally Sebastian was in range, four separate enemy aircraft lit up on the screen as targets. Barely wasting a second the pilot fired, a burst of rockets sweeping away from his fighter's wings and hunting down the enemy with lightning speed. Five flashes lit up the sky ahead of him, all of his targets torn apart in a series of fireballs. He grinned and gunned the engines again as he watched the burning wreckage drop towards the sea.

“Tomcat, pick up. You clear?”

“Damnit, I'm hit! They got one away before you fired, sir, I'm going down. Baili-” The pilot's voice was cut short by a tremendous explosion that shook Sebastian's headset. Alcides' XF-81's ammunition holds detonated, killing the pilot and blasting the remains of his ship asunder in a cataclysmic eruption of flame. Sebastian watched, stunned, as one of his closest friends had his life torn away in a storm of fire, his body cremated in seconds inside his shattered metal coffin. Before the squadron leader could gather his thoughts his own fighter shook with a terrible impact, the rear of the aircraft spinning around and disorientating him further as shards of ruptured tail flew past the canopy. This time he noticed the warning lights. Structural failures in almost every section. The engine died. Another explosion tore part of the canopy away and knocked Sebastian's head sideways, smashing part of his helmet in and cutting his head open. Blood ran down the side of his face and into his mouth as he tried to open a comms channel. Static filled his ears and the aircraft shook yet again, the pilot now too dazed to know where he was. Looking up, he caught sight of a fiery comet ahead of him through the shattered canopy, coming straight for him. The missile shot straight into the breach in the cockpit and hit Sebastian straight in the face before he had time to scream. He was incinerated long before his fighter exploded.

***

The Ares fired again with every weapon available to it. Particle cannons lanced their deadly beams down into the ocean below and slaughtered thousands of American crewmen with each shot. The rest of the fleet tore through the sky behind it, the massive war machines chasing their own fighters towards the city ahead. The railgun cells were now converging on the breach site as the gravity of the situation became apparent, the carrier fleet approaching dangerously close to the UNA rearguard. The carrier flagship barely rocked in the air as the nearest gunboat cell opened fire, the warheads zipping past the Ares' tail fins and punching into the hull of the Eos behind it. The second carrier to fall in the advance exploded just as the Icarus had done, splintered shards of metal embedding themselves in the shields of the Poseidon and the Nyx on either side of it. Still the hail of high explosive shells spat upwards at the fleet and the particle cannons rained down death on the battleships, the hunters turned into the hunted in one decisive move. Even before what remained of the Eos had hit the water far below the Ares fired again, its gunner crews working with incredible speed and efficiency. The sea had become a mosaic of fire and death, fresh explosions tearing through the ranks of battleships as the ordered formations were cast into turmoil, the ships' commanders desperately trying to evade the carriers' rain of destruction. Another gunboat cell exploded. Carrier Styx's shields failed at last under the bombardment, but the hull held firm. They were through.









As an aside, I'd first like to thank Angel for the signature logo :D I really like it and the fact that some people already have it in their sigs is truly epic. (I'm not going to put it in mine, because I can't really be classed as a fan and I've already got a dirty great advert in there :D)

Also, this is a bit of a landmark post for me. The thread is at 10 pages, as you know. The story as a whole has now passed 100 A4 pages and has passed the 20 chapters mark as well as the 80,000 words mark. Looking back on how far this has come and how far it still has to go is kinda emotional, I guess. I'm more proud of this than anything else I've ever done, really, and I have a commitment now to stick with it, see it through to the end and make sure that it is the best that I can make it. For myself and for all of you following the story.

So, once again, thankyou so much for your support, for keeping me going and getting us this far. You've no idea how grateful I am for all this. So thankyou again and please, keep watching this space. We've crossed the Atlantic and we're on the home stretch. Twenty chapters down, how about another twenty, eh? :D

Imp.

[Lemartes]

Well done! As I said earlier, i love the carrier action.

Keep it up dude, looking forward to the day when I can buy this in a book shop! You know it'll happen!

[The Dark Pwner]

yaaaaay I like it!

[Cordova]

Awesome. Can't wait now. The shit's gonna hit the fan big time :)

[Imperial Dragon]

Here we go again! This one's taken forever to write again, and I've deleted and re-written 8 pages worth of writing before I decided on what was working right. Over 2000 views too, which is very nice :D So, here we go, the calm before the storm. We're on our way to New Island and as Cordova said, the shit is about to hit the fan. Next update soon!







PARIAH

Chapter Twenty One – Final Preparations

The Ares drifted away from the trail of fire and death that it had rent in the sea below. A scattered barrage of heavy cannon shells chased the carrier fleet through the sky as the distance between the warships and the UNA east coast narrowed. The shells fired were accurate, impacting on the bubble shields that surrounded each craft but exploding harmlessly against the carriers' defences. Just ahead of the flagship's prow and growing ever closer was the living barrier of aircraft, their endless duel creating a sweeping arc of steel and flame across the azure sky. Beyond the battle air forces lay open sea, a few scattered pockets of naval resistance, then the shipyards themselves. If the confederate strike force could make a landing at New Island and seize control of the port then the primary source of American ships for the Atlantic war would be cut off. This would allow the EDC carriers and battleships to slowly grind down their enemy by sheer weight of numbers. Once the Atlantic was won the confederacy would be able to strike anywhere along the UNA east coast with relative impunity. Capturing New Island would also give carrier fleet Ares a clear path towards New York City itself, one of the main command hubs of the northern states, where their particle cannons and storm trooper contingents would be able to wreak havoc in the tightly knit urban war zone in which they are trained to excel. The attack ahead would be drawn out and bloody but success would grant the EDC their first major foothold in America since the start of the war. To storm trooper high command, any price was a price worth paying.

The crew of the Ares were oblivious to the battle still raging outside their ship, apart from those who were tasked with watching for enemy attacks, maintaining the shields and flying the ship itself. All the combat personnel, the storm troopers and their gunners, pilots, drivers and technicians, were gathered in the main chamber in the centre of the supercarrier's hold. Rank upon rank of soldiers stood to attention before the three massive plasma screens at the end of the chamber. A barren lectern waited unused at the forefront of the stage, but it was the screens that were active, a revolving series of gold stars lighting up the gently pulsing blue backdrop. The lines of black ops personnel waited in silence. Roughly in the centre of the formation, Jan and the other Ghosts watched the swirling symbols on the screen ahead, easily visible because of the blue shoulders on their X-series armour. The silence seemed to go on forever, the sheer absence of noise in such a crowded room beginning to cause unease amongst its occupants. Just as Sascha opened her mouth to whisper to Jan and break the oppressive silence the screens finally sparked into life. The circle of stars dissipated as the image faded, replaced with the familiar face of Master Braun. The head of the storm trooper high command glared down the camera lens at the Ares' army, his steely gaze unnerving despite the thousands of miles between his office and the carrier itself. He waited for a few seconds before he began his address.

“Comrades. Welcome to the calm before the storm. The mission that you have been entrusted with is of the utmost importance to our nation's war effort. To the men and women fighting along our western front the armies of the UNA pose a constant and lethal threat. Millions of brave soldiers have died in the defence of Iceland, Portugal, Spain, France and the United Kingdom, and millions more have given their lives so that the naval cordon over which you just passed can be maintained. Without the efforts of our brothers and sisters the Americans would now be in a position to do the same to us as we now plan to do them: strike at their very hearts. The Americans played their hand at Iceland and were defeated, which has given us our advantage. The pilots of your carriers' air forces and the gunners down in the bowels of each one of your ships have given their all to force a path through the UNA naval cordon and even now hundreds of fighters fight desperately to claim the Atlantic skies back for our confederacy. We have endured the slaughter wrought upon our people by the Asian and American aggressors for too long. As I speak to you now, the carrier contingent that saved Warsaw is supporting an EDC army push into occupied Ukraine to reclaim our lost territories under the command of General Anderson. He is taking the fight to the USIA, and so you will take the fight to the UNA. Our scouts have shown that there is only minimal resistance between you and the shipyards at New Island which form your first objective. Because of this you will not be required to deploy until you reach New Island. Use the transit time wisely. Prepare yourselves for the coming struggle, check your equipment and try to remain calm and composed. Make your peace with your closest comrades. All of you are in this fight together and as you well know some of you will not return to European airspace, so make sure you go into battle with clear minds and bold hearts. Under no circumstances assume that this fight will be an easy one. New Island was built in the late stages of the arms race and so is the most modern defensive platform the UNA has at its disposal. It is bristling with weaponry designed specifically to repel carrier assault, some of which you have already experienced and which accounts for the tragic loss of carriers Icarus and Eos. What follows will be the most challenging and costly battle undertaken by this confederacy since the start of the war, yet the benefits to be reaped once we are successful would tip the tide of the whole global conflict in our favour, pushing us ever nearer to victory and world peace. This is why the army isn't here.”

Master Braun smiled as a chuckle ran through the assembly, then continued. “The range of the defensive emplacements is greater than the effective range of our particle weapons. As the carrier fleet approaches the maximum range of the enemy defensive weapons the storm trooper regiments in their drop ships will deploy from the prow vents on each ship. The drop ships will then advance on their standard attack trajectories towards New Island with support from the remaining air force personnel. Once the attack waves have been deployed the carrier fleet will split into two halves. Carriers Styx, Nyx, Poseidon, Tartarus, Hephaestus and Hemera will form the lower tier, with the Ares taking the centre of this formation. The Ares is the most powerful attack vessel in the fleet, and so must be protected at all costs. The duty of the lower tier is to form the main assault pattern and protect the Ares as it advances. Carriers Helios, Zephyrus, Kronos, Iapetus, Morpheus and Thanatos will form the upper tier. These carriers will ascend to closer to their maximum altitudes above the lower tier and provide supporting fire as the rest of the assault advances. They have authorisation to use emergency power protocols to increase their effective range and will engage priority targets from afar while the lower tier engages at close range. Once deployed, the drop ships from all carriers will split into separate waves from each carrier. Helios, Thanatos and Styx drop ships will form the initial beachhead. They will make primary landings at the core of the shipyard and will spread out as shown here.”

The Master's face remained on the centre screen, but those to his left and right swapped to showing a green laser model of the shipyard on a black background. New Island was roughly crescent-shaped on it's seaward side, narrowing to a point at the rear. Three small swarms of blue icons descended on the centre of the crescent arc and landed, disgorging an army of smaller blue icons that spread like a stain across the central section.

“This will form the main focus for our attack. Once this section has been secured a shielded command relay will be set up and from their the ground commanders will be able to coordinate our attack in conjunction with the fleet admirals. The second wave will then advance. This will be made up of the drop ship waves from carriers Nyx, Kronos and Ares. Wave Nyx will attack the left flank point of the shipyard while wave Kronos attacks the right flank point and wave Ares makes a landing ahead of the primary beachhead in the centre of the target.”

The map screens flashed again as three more swarms appeared, much more spread out than the first three. One landed at each point of the crescent while the third landed at the forefront of the blossoming blue sector in the centre of the arc. The areas of the shipyard shrouded by blue colours grew again as yet more tiny blue icons advanced across New Island.

“The priority of the second attack wave is to seize control of the enemy's primary defence installations shown here.” Red circles appeared on the map next to the landing points of the second group of three swarms' landing points. “Once these have been captured our carriers will be able to advance in full force and assist the storm troopers' advance with supporting fire. There are still secondary defence installations here:” A scattering of smaller red circles appeared across most of the map. “and tertiary installations across most of the rest of the station. However, this is a risk that the fleet will have to take, as without carrier support the battle will be made that much harder for our ground troops. The upper tier of carriers will attempt to destroy as many of these secondary installations as quickly as possible without risking the lives of friendly ground forces, but other than that we are relying on our shields and the bravery of our storm troopers to stop these batteries from bringing our carriers down. The third attack wave will then advance, closely followed by the carriers. Their objective is to seize control of the rest of the seaward side of the station to allow our forces to establish a solid battle line and advance unhindered from the flank or rear.”

The maps flashed again and a further four swarms appeared on the display. Two of the swarms landed on either side of the crescent, filling in the gaps between the points and the centre with their blue clouds. As the small armies of icons spread out to paint the whole near side of the shipyard blue the rest of the EDC attack force began to slowly sweep inwards towards the red circle targets.

“This third wave will be comprised of waves Hemera, Iapetus, Tartarus and Poseidon. Our primary aim is to capture station command, here:” A red star appeared towards the rear of the shipyard, in the centre of the point closest to New York itself. “All units will be converging on this point but this is the primary aim of the black ops forces from carrier Ares. They will be carving a path towards the control tower as quickly as possible while the rest of the storm trooper forces concentrate on the eradication of all enemy forces in the area. The final attack wave will be our reserves, deploying at the rear of our newly controlled territory and sweeping forward to reinforce the troopers at the forefront of the advance. This wave will be made up of soldiers from carriers Hephaestus, Zephyrus and Thanatos. These dropships will deploy their charges at the following points.”

The final three swarms landed on the map, one at the central area with the EDC command relay and one midway along each arm of the crescent. As one the cloud of blue icons turned and advanced, pushing across the shipyard and erasing the red circles one by one. The prong at the centre of the formation finally reached the red star, destroyed it and allowed the rest of the cloud to sweep across the remainder of the map, turning the green mesh of lines blue. The maps then disappeared in a flash of white to be replaced by Braun's face once again.

“Once the second wave lands the carrier fleet will advance in support. Your primary objectives are to eliminate the defensive batteries and seize control of the command tower. The carriers will fire on the station where absolutely necessary but are mainly there to destroy any naval forces present, of which we are expecting there to be many. Once we have control of the station and all available intelligence has been gathered from the command tower all ground units will be extracted, then the carriers will destroy the shipyard completely. Capture New Island and the Atlantic war will be won. From there we consolidate into New York City itself and gain our first foothold on American soil by taking one of their most prized cities. New Island will burn. New York will fall. Already the UNA cowers before the might of the storm trooper corps and with good reason. You are the finest soldiers that Europe can call on, which makes you the most fearsome military force in the world. The mounds of corpses created by your hands lie rotting on every continent in the world, innumerable metres high. You are the nemeses of those who would see our hopes of peace crushed forever. You are the angels of death, the shining light at the end of this dark tunnel that we find ourself in and in your hands rests the fate of the world. This fight will be our finest hour. Go forth, and bring your wrath down on the American pretenders. To War!”

As he shouted the last two words he raised his right arm, hand clenched into a fist. All throughout the chamber the gathered troopers did the same, roaring in salute along with the master. Applause rang throughout the hall as the screens deactivated, plunging the room back into relative darkness. Their morale soaring after the speech from their commander, the troopers began to slowly file out of the chamber back to their quarters. The Ghosts were the same as the rest of the Ares' personal army, grinning and cheering even after the screens had gone dead. Finally Jan slapped Sascha on the back and turned to leave, his helmet tucked under his arm. The rest of the team turned to follow him, the last of the noise from the hall finally dying away as they left.

[Lemartes]

Well, the next chapter or so is going to be interesting... to say the least...

[Mali32]

Just got back from hols and caught up on Pariah. Its awesome Imp. The next bit should be quite interesting and i cant wait for it. I would be proud to have this book and the inevitable sequels on my shelves so you keep writing! :D

[Imperial Dragon]

Finished at last! I should probably stop leaving these updates until practically midnight when i'm off out very early in the morning tomorrow and getting back very late. But nevertheless, here you are. The rest of chapter 21. Read up, enjoy, let me know what you think, all the usual spiel that you're familiar with by now :D stay tuned!






***

The fleet continued on its way, the twisting lances of fire from the titanic war machines' rear engines propelling the vast hulks of metal through the air. Scattered pockets of resistance met with the forerunner carriers as the Atlantic ocean swept by beneath them, the carriers' particle cannons making light work of the much smaller UNA battleships. The battle between the air forces from New Island and the carrier fleet finally dissipated as the UNA craft began to near their fuel limits and finally retreated back to their base to prepare for the coming storm. The scattered remnants of the fighters from the thirteen remaining airships slowly hovered over their positions and dropped in to land en masse, the jets quickly swarmed upon by engineers desperately repairing the damage to prepare the craft to be reused in the battle to come. Down in the bowels of each carrier the hangar chambers began to open. Rack after rack of pristine drop ships slid into place alongside the internal decks, awaiting the order to be deployed once New Island was in sight. Some were modified to carry light reconnaissance vehicles, either the fast, agile scout buggies used by the flanking squads or the larger vehicles that carried the storm troopers' heavy fire power. Others were outfitted specifically for fire support roles, with the troop bays covered by extra armour plating and weapons to turn the drop ships into gunships. Most, however, remained as drop ships, awaiting their storm trooper cargoes.

The Ghosts had congregated in Jan and Lukas' quarters, still in full battle dress. The room was predominantly silent, each of its occupants lost in their own thoughts and musing on the fight that lay ahead of them. Even the usually jovial and boisterous team remained subdued in the calm before the storm, each acutely aware of the real possibility that some if not all of them would not survive. Jan's thoughts were the most troubled. With every battle that he led his friends into he lost more of them and with each narrow victory he felt more and more as if his luck was running out. An overwhelming feeling of impending tragedy was creeping up on him, as if he was unwittingly careering towards losing everything he held dear. Sarah stood across the room from the lieutenant, sharpening her sword with a whetstone that she had managed to find while wandering the endless corridors of their new host ship. The near silent scraping motion along the blade helped her focus her mind and keep the stray anxieties that had surfaced along with her repaired memory at bay. Eidur and Mikail leant against the bunks on the far wall of the room, neither contributing to any efforts to break the silence. Lukas was sat on the floor, leaning against a partition between two walls with his chin resting on the muzzle of his sniper rifle as usual. His eyes flicked between the rest of the squad members in turn, waiting for someone else to talk. Sascha stood against the door frame, arms folded and swapping her gaze between Jan and Sarah, her expression conveying a confused mixture of envy, anger and apprehension. Several more minutes of silence passed before the team's scout's boredom got the better of him. Fritz cleared his throat loud enough to catch the attention of everyone else in the room, then simply waited for someone to comment rather than start a conversation himself. No one did. The Ghosts turned away from the sniper to return to whatever they had been busying themselves with previously, but as they did the eyes of each member of the team lingered for a second on the space in the circle where Gavin Jones should have been standing.

Glaring at his inactive comrades, Lukas cleared his throat again. “So yeah, is quiet time over yet?”

“Shut up, Fritz.” Sascha snapped.

“What?” the scout replied, almost sounding hurt. “I just don't get what the private therapy session thing is about. Braun said 'make peace with yourselves', not bore Lukas to death. I just want a talk before we all get shot to pieces.”

Jan interjected before Sascha could complain again. “Then talk.”

A few seconds of silence followed as Lukas considered what he would have to say. “Well, I didn't have a particular topic exactly...” He was interrupted by a chorus of groans and complaints from the others and was quickly subdued.

Before the silence could take hold again Jan stepped in. “Maybe Lukas is right. I mean, we've all barely spoken to each other since Iceland for whatever reason and if we're going to go into what could be our last fight together not working as a team then we haven't got a hope. I know we're all still grieving after we lost Jones and I know that we've all lost too many friends over this last week. That said, if we let that get to us now we're going to keep losing people that we care about. We are at war against a merciless enemy who doesn't give a damn about the people they shoot at. We go in, get the job done, then get back out again and I am not losing another member of this squad under any circumstances. What we need to do now is relax, try and get our heads clear and build some morale before take off, all right?”

As one the Ghosts nodded their approval. “So what's the plan for us then?” Sascha asked. “Braun gave us the overall plan but where do we fit in?”

Jan leant back against the wall and let out a deep breath as he thought. “Well, you know that the Ares crews are deploying at the tip of the central spearhead, yeah?”

“Right.”

“Well we're being dropped at the front of that formation. This thing's commanders think that with how we did in Warsaw we're good at capturing things..”

“Which we are.” Eidur interrupted.

Jan looked over towards his communications specialist and grinned. “Well yes, but Lukas nearly fell out a window and without that Tyrus drop ship we'd probably all have been blown to hell.”

Ei grinned back. “True, but we did it in the end, right?”

“Right. So like I said, some brass has seen the file and wants us heading for the shipyard's command tower with some of the black ops specialist guys. I think that means we get one of those buggy things.”

The other storm troopers began chatting amongst themselves, turning into children at the mere thought of being given control of a vehicle, except Sarah. The sixth member of the team didn't respond to any of what had been said, keeping her eyes lowered and fixed on the whetstone as it grated against her blade. “Can any of you drive one?” Even as she spoke her gaze remained where it was, the rest of her body unflinching from the task assigned to it. The rest of the squad were silenced in an instant as their juvenile enthusiasm was brought crashing down by the ex-assassin's common sense.

“Didn't you do a course about driving things?” Mika eventually came out with, looking at his brother.

The other Tomasson had to think for a few seconds before he replied. “Yeah, I think so, but I don't think I finished it. It was sort of a combined course about battlefield acquisition, like scavenging weapons and ammo and stuff from the field. One of the bits was about stealing a tank but that was about it. I don't think I did very well anyway.”

“Do you think you could drive one of the recon buggies?” Jan asked.

“I'll give it a shot.” Eidur gave another beaming smile.

Sarah shook her head, still not taking her eyes from her sword. “God help us.” she muttered.

Jan chuckled, then noticed what Sarah was doing and frowned. “Have you used a stone on that sword before, Sarah?” he asked, warily.

“No, why?”

“It's just that I swear those things are designed to fire that sonic burst thing out of the guard when they hit something, and you sharpening it must feel a lot like an impact to the sensors in there.”

“I know. Don't worry, I've taken out the power cell.” No sooner had she finished speaking than a deafening crack split the air inside the room as though a bomb had been detonated. The sonic cannon built into the base of the blade itself erupted with incredible force, blasting an inch-deep dent in the plate metal door next to her. The whetstone was torn from her hand by the blast and flung upwards away from the blade, straight into her face. The stone impacted right on the bridge of her nose with enough force to shatter a normal man's skull. As it happened the ridge of bone that formed the upper part of her nose was completely flattened. Most of the rest of her face, especially her mouth, was covered in a thick coating of blood. The other Ghosts looked on in shock for a few seconds, then when she opened her eyes, shook her head and swore they erupted into laughter. Sarah looked up at the group of hyenas around her and glared as best she could. “It's not funny!” she shouted, her usually strong and authoritative voice transformed by her injury. “That's the second fucking time that's happened today!” The laughter did not stop, in fact if anything her protests did nothing but accentuate her squad mates' amusement. Giving up on stopping them laughing she put her sword down on the floor and concentrated all her will towards the front of her face, as she had in the training cell earlier. Slowly but surely the mess of destroyed bone knitted back together and her nose began to reform. Once the regeneration was complete she began wiping at the drying blood with the back of her hand.

The laughter slowly began to die down, but the lieutenant was still giggling. “Now you just look like a really shit, angry vampire!” he said, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Yeah, funny. You weren't laughing so hard last time, were you?”

Jan slowly stopped laughing but retained his manic grin. “No, I was kinda preoccupied with the sword sticking out of my stomach at the time, if I'm honest. But anyway, yeah, we touch down at the head of that main attack convoy, pick up Ei's buggy and chase the black ops guys to the command tower. Then we take it, kill or capture the base commander, see if Ei can hack the tower computers and shut down the defences then hold the tower until the others take out the rest of the marines on the station. Then we pull out and watch the carriers go to town on what's left.”

Lukas raised his hand as a schoolchild would, smirking at his squad leader. Jan rolled his eyes and motioned for the sniper to ask his question. “Just wondering. If we're hurtling along god knows how fast across this shipyard thing, driven by some mad Icelandic shopkeeper with practically no experience, how am I meant to kill anything? I can't aim fast enough and unlike you lot I don't have bullets to waste.”

“Well, that's your problem, not mine.” Jan replied, a hint of malice sneaking into his smile. “The again, you never know. You might get taken in by a proper sniper unit instead, with a scout commander in charge. You know the ones, the officers who use discipline instead of just letting you do what you want like me. Considering how much of a pain you are I might even suggest it to the brass. Might do you some good.”

Lukas muttered something in German under his breath then leant back against the wall, the muzzle of his rifle tucked under his chin again. Even Sarah could not help but chuckle when she caught sight of the look on the scout's face, and soon the Ghosts were laughing and joking amongst themselves again. Jan smiled as he saw the energy return to his team. For a few brief moments hope had re-entered his heart. If there was any chance of him surviving the trials ahead, it was with these people around him. This scruffy rainbow team of defect soldiers had somehow lived through the worst that the war could throw at them, but now they faced their most deadly challenge yet. Even as he felt the warmth of happiness momentarily return to his life, Jan could still feel the nagging claws of doubt that had been plaguing him for days hiding in the darker parts of his soul. It was the feeling that no matter what the war had thrown at them so far, it wasn't the war that he should be worried about.

[Lemartes]

Great! I'm looking forward to the next chapter!

[Mali32]

Very cool Imp. Like the whetstone bit. The whole thing makes the ghosts a bit more human. Gives them some more character. Me likey. Thanks for the awesome writing and keep going. :D

[Imperial Dragon]

I'm going on holiday on saturday for a week, 18th-25th and I won't have any internet connection so I won't be able to get online to post updates. I'll take my laptop with me so I'll still be able to write if I get time, but you'll have to wait until the 26th for an update at the earliest I'm afraid. Sorry about the downtime but I'll do my best to make sure there's plenty of great material for you all to read when I get back. I'm in hospital tomorrow so I doubt I'll be able to get any of chapter 22 posted before I go, so as I say it's most likely going to be a week on sunday for the next post.

Apologies, and watch this space.

Imp.

[Lemartes]

Have a great holiday Imp! And good luck with the hospital... I hope it's nothing serious?

[Imperial Dragon]

Have a great holiday Imp! And good luck with the hospital... I hope it's nothing serious?

Just a check up, they're making sure my legs haven't fallen off in the last 6 months.

[Lemartes]

O_o




K...

[speeddemon217]

Took a me a few hours to get up to date with this but I must say this is one of the best stories I've read in my time and I look forward to seeing this in a bookshop. By the way, this story has lots of similarities between Tom Clancy's Endwar. Did you get inspiration from it or is it just me over analysing?
What's going on with Africa anyway? You never really mentioned who they were allied with if anyone at all. It would be interesting to see if they formed a superpower and attacked Europe, throwing a spanner in the works.

[Imperial Dragon]

Took a me a few hours to get up to date with this but I must say this is one of the best stories I've read in my time and I look forward to seeing this in a bookshop. By the way, this story has lots of similarities between Tom Clancy's Endwar. Did you get inspiration from it or is it just me over analysing?
What's going on with Africa anyway? You never really mentioned who they were allied with if anyone at all. It would be interesting to see if they formed a superpower and attacked Europe, throwing a spanner in the works.

Thankyou and welcome! :D

Yeah, EndWar was a big inspiration to me. Tom Clancy has a talent for "what if" writing and his level of vision when it comes to global political shifts is remarkable. I bought the game and found myself enjoying the story more than the actual gameplay (it was very polished, I was just dire at it). So I kind of borrowed and adapted that idea and built this world around the original PARIAH concept. I then came on here and asked for any ideas as to what could have started this global unionisation and re-invigorated the arms race and we eventually came up with MPEC. Put all that together and the PARIAH world is born. So I do have to give Mr Clancy credit for the inspiration and everyone on these forums who's helped over the last few months credit for their own help in various areas.

As for Africa, the unionisation movement costs an absolute fortune. In its formation together the EDC had to create a level playing field economically across the whole continent, bring the wealth of countries like Estonia and Romania more into line with French and British economies because they were creating one super-economy if you like across the new nation. The superpowers now function like massive countries, not conglomerates. The amount of money that the richer sections of Africa would have to come up with to justify taking on the amount of debt that the continent is saddled with at the moment is simply impossible. An African superpower would be nowhere near as prominent on the world stage as the USIA, UNA and EDC and is far more likely to break apart.

Also, the governments of Europe at the time were reasonably co-operative with one another. They were all in the same boat, all getting very rich very quickly and they all had similar interests. The same goes with the UNA. They were all getting very poor very quickly and desperately needed to pool their resources. Admittedly the USIA was born in a different way, a few imperialist staes joining together to invade and oppress the rest of Asia, but the point still stands. By the time of the unionisation movement African politics was rife with tyranny. A few of the richer African nations could have banded together but many of the poorer and more corrupt states would not have approved a union.

So as it happens, Africa never really followed down the path of becoming a superpower. Instead they have mainly chosen to stay out of the war. There is sporadic fighting in certain resource pockets across the continent between UNA and USIA forces, but the area is largely at peace. The only main conflict in Africa is in the northern countries such as Egypt. The Middle East and northern Africa are locked in a three-way battle between all three superpowers with the USIA and UNA fighting over what remains of the oil deposits in the region and both at the same time looking to push into Europe (UNA from the south over the meditteranean, USIA from the east through the Ukraine and into Poland), with the EDC defending their homeland territories and looking to push towards Moscow. So, there is a fair bit of fighting in parts of north Africa and the Middle East, but that wasn't something I wanted to focus on. The Middle East gets focussed on so much in the media that I wanted to do something new and a bit different, plus I don't know as much as I'd like about the history of the region's conflicts and I'd really rather not get the story bogged down in P&R by focusing on Iran or Iraq.

So, in conclusion, Africa is a separatist state like Oceania and Japan. They will defend themselves if needs be but are not allied to any superpower. However, I will say that if PARIAH goes well and I do get to write book 2, Africa will feature heavily. ;)

[speeddemon217]

Thanks for clearing that up about Africa. It makes sense the way it's a battlefield just like it was in world war 2. You really have got a detailed background for this story and that's definitely a good thing since it makes it easier to set up sequels, as you said.

[Imperial Dragon]

Thanks for clearing that up about Africa. It makes sense the way it's a battlefield just like it was in world war 2. You really have got a detailed background for this story and that's definitely a good thing since it makes it easier to set up sequels, as you said.

Thankyou :) I'd like to thing that I'm dong everything I can to make the PARIAH world as tangible as possible, to make it feel as though it's at least vaguely plausible and like each bit of the world does work, which is hard when you're talking about superpowered assassins on illegal combat narcotics that are nigh-on impossible to kill.

[Imperial Dragon]

BACK!! :D

Got nowhere near as much work done as I would've liked (mum kept demanding use of the computer and I'd forgotten about writing my submission for the BL competition), but I did manage to get some done. I'll drip feed the new material in slowly as I did last time so you're not getting it all in one go then waiting for ages while I get more done. I know this update's quite small, but thats the way it goes I guess :P So, here's the first bit of chapter 22, more on the way shortly after I've finished drooling over the new Wipeout HD expansion pack :D




PARIAH

Chapter Twenty Two – God Of War

The calm before the storm did not last long. The fleet of carriers ploughed through the sky above the Atlantic with incredible speed, their weapons obliterating the sporadic resistance put in their path. The majority of the UNA naval presence in the region had been withdrawn and held back at New Island to form a defensive perimeter around the stronghold, but the speed of the EDC assault had thrown the American commanders off guard and so small contingents of battleships were still heading for the front lines, their orders scattered and confused. These clusters of ships were ill prepared for the sight of thirteen fully armed confederate carriers hurtling towards them and were destroyed piecemeal before they were able to send a distress signal, let alone mount a coordinated defence. Within hours the seaward perimeter of the massive floating shipyard could faintly be seen as a grey line on the horizon.

When the klaxon finally began to sound and the order to embark was issued the scene played out more like a drill than an actual military situation. The storm troopers on board the Ares filed out of their quarters and flooded along the corridors of the titanic war machine towards the internal deck at the vessel's core. The Ghosts followed Jan in single file and in silence, as though in a daze. The assembled army strode in unison towards the aircraft that would carry many of them to their deaths. As they neared the final boarding channel that would take them onto the deck itself, Sascha pushed past Fritz and Sarah to stand at Jan's side.

“Can we talk?” she asked, hesitantly.

Jan looked across at his best friend and smiled. “Sure. Could be our last chance I guess. What's up?”

She paused and sighed, then looked back up at the officer again. “This is going to sound soppy.”

“Just say it.” Jan smiled and nudged her arm. “Sasch, this is what we're here for. We tell each other everything. I know you better than I do my own family and we'll be here for each other until the end, you know that. Just say it.”

Ramirez managed a wry smile. “Well, you know. This could be our last mission together, like you said, and I don't want things going unsaid.”

“Don't play dead too early. I mean, come on. We fell out of the sky into the imp hordes over Warsaw and lived through it. We killed god knows how many Ghouls in Iceland and helped drive the marine assault back. Survived that too. Yeah, this drop's going to be dangerous and a lot of people are going to die, but we've got as good a chance as any, if not better. Have some faith, yeah?”

“I do, but you have to face up to the realities. I might die in the next few hours. So might you. So might any of us. I'm not despairing, I'm just accepting the inevitable.”

“OK, if you're sure.” The end of the corridor was getting closer and the sound of the rushing high-altitude winds could easily be heard over the sound of boot steps. “So what is it?” he asked.

She paused again. “Things have changed a lot over these last few weeks. Has anything changed with me and you?”

“Well, I guess we haven't really had as much time for each other as we'd like but I think it's made us both closer overall. You find out who means the most to you when you start losing people you care about, right?”

“Right. You know we all do really appreciate everything you do for us. You keep this team going even when our friends are dying all around us.”

The signature smile faded slightly from Jan's face. “Thank you. That means a lot.” Silence crept back between them for a few seconds more. “But that wasn't everything, was it?”

There was another pause as Sascha collected herself. “It's Sarah.”

“Yeah, I guessed as much. You do know that her being around changes nothing for us, right?”

Sascha's head dropped again, the usually resolute soldier floundering in her own emotions. “If you say so.” She looked Jan in the eyes this time, her fiery stare burning through the back of his head. “Do you love her?”

“No.” he said, without any hesitation. “And she doesn't love me. We just both thought we might have some answers for each other. I guess we we're wrong. There's nothing going on there, I promise you.”

A faint light of hope entered Sascha's eyes. “Do you love anyone?”

“I don't know, I don't think so. I don't know if I'm capable of love. Do you?”

“I...” She was cut off by a booming crash and a burst of light as they exited the tunnel and emerged out into the packed central docking area inside the cleft at the centre of the carrier. The interior deck was much the same as its counterpart on board the Charon, but much longer and deeper. The Ghosts found themselves about halfway up the side of the starboard gantry stack as the black ops troopers began to mill around in front of them, finding their own drop ships and boarding. The aircraft themselves had been moved into position on the hangar rails, the last of the ships sliding out of the hangar doors and grinding to a halt in front of their assembled cargoes. Jan spotted his team's ship easily, with it being the only drop ship on board the Ares without the black banding down each flank. The plain blue craft with – C084 – still written on the side as a homage to the deceased warriors that had called the Charon their home dangled from its housing on the hangar transport rail, the troop bay doors left open for the Ghosts to enter. The other squad leaders along the gantry fired up their LEDs and waited for their men to join them in line with protocol, but with his own men already around him Jan did not waste time with standard proceedings. The storm troopers clambered aboard the slowly swinging drop ship, slapping the craft's flank in salute to the pilot as they did so. The ten seats along the inside walls of the troop bay had had their jet pack attachments removed and had been reconfigured to fit the larger frames of the soldiers with their X-series armour in place. One by one the troopers took their seats and strapped themselves down, waiting for the order to deploy.

The order came quicker than they had anticipated. The light at the back of the cabin changed from red to green and all of a sudden the deck was filled with a wave of pure noise as every drop ship under the Ares' command gunned its engines. The hangar holding clamps disengaged and the decking space was filled with a wash of white fire as every engine was set to hover, then the craft gradually turned their noses upwards and rocketed out of the cleft and out into the open sky above. Drop ship C084 formed part of the second or third wave to leave the cleft as a swarm of ships each the size of a tank poured out into the air above the Ares' top deck. The troop bay doors remained open as the drop ship continued to climb, the Ghosts' visors increasing the polarisation just in time as a burst of sunlight washed into the cabin. Finally the armada of transports began to level out. Looking out of the troop bay exit, Jan could see similar fleets of drop ships sweeping across the sky, as well as the rest of his own convoy all around him. The horde of attack craft flew between the stationary carriers as the larger craft split into two waves as planned. The titans manoeuvred through the air like floating slabs of the earth's crust, ponderous yet terrifying at the same time. Once their course had been adjusted the drop ship fleets transferred full power to their engines and swept over the water towards their objective with blinding speed. Lukas and Sarah sat next to each other, each on one side of the port troop bay exit hole. They both craned their necks to the side to watch the sea fly past beneath them through the shifting mosaic of black and blue aircraft. What remained of the carrier air force tore through their formation like bullets, sweeping ahead to meet the enemy defences head on. The two storm troopers leant back in their seats and looked over at one another, nodding in reassurance both to themselves and to their comrade. Within minutes the speaker system in the cabin sparked into life.

“Entering defensive firing range in five, four, three, two, one...”

Then the first explosion sounded.

***

[Cordova]

Sort of back to the forums after holidays, and I've just caught up. Awesome as ever Imp. Can't wait for the real fight, especially Lukas... who I'm still watching... :)

[speeddemon217]

Excellent work but I get the feeling someone's going to die now. My guess is going to be the driver when they land and begin the assault on the ground.

[Imperial Dragon]

Excellent work but I get the feeling someone's going to die now. My guess is going to be the driver when they land and begin the assault on the ground.

You never know ;) people do have a habit of getting killed pretty often in this. BY driver do you mean Ei or the drop ship pilot?

[speeddemon217]

Eidur, I forgot his name

[Imperial Dragon]

Nobody is safe :D

[Mali32]

Awesome Imp. Just got back and read it. Cant wait for more. Like the sound of the chapter title as well. Should be something good to come. :D

[Lemartes]

Gah, I stopped getting reply notifications so i only just read the last section, still good work mate, keep it up.

Can I ask how far through we are? Like how many more chapters are there likely to be?

[Imperial Dragon]

Can I ask how far through we are? Like how many more chapters are there likely to be?

Ah, erm, difficult to say :D The intial plan did change to lengthen the story by including the whole New Island section that we're in now, and if I follow through with that plan there could be 15-20 chapters maximum still to come. However, I'm considering changing it again to push it more towards the personal stories rather than more of these massive battles, which could cut it down to 12-15 ish. I don't know as yet.

[Lemartes]

Cool.

[Imperial Dragon]

New update. Chapter 22 is a short one but its taking a while to write. We're really getting to the business end of things now and as I said to Lem I've altered the plan for the back end of the story for the better, i think :D Chapter 23 on the way soon, hopefully!





***

Drop ship C084 bucked slightly as the first barrage of missiles hit the front of the formation. The Ghosts in the back of the ship gripped the arm rests on their seats tightly and leant backwards, bracing themselves without thinking, mimicking the procedure for every drop they had ever made with prefect precision. All except Sarah, who was thrown forward and would have left her seat completely if not for the restraints. Righting herself and curling up in her chair, she closed her eyes behind her visor and waited for the worst to be over. Through the troop bay openings the Ghosts could already see the burning remains of transports just like theirs dropping hundreds of feet into the sea below. The blackened corpses of their own men could also faintly be seen amidst the carnage. Hundreds of lives chalked up as “acceptable losses” so that the rest of the fleet could reach New Island unscathed. From his position Jan could see the carrier fleet begin to rearrange itself far behind them, the colossal war machines' threatening visage unaffected as the distance between them and the drop ships grew. Another explosion rocked the Ghosts' craft, this one much closer, then they were knocked sideways violently as the remains of another drop ship impacted on the wing next to Jan's seat. The lieutenant instinctively looked towards the source of the thunderous noise and just caught sight of another storm trooper reaching out towards him. The man's helmet had been ripped free, his face was covered in blood and most of the lower half of his body was crawling with flame. Within seconds he was gone, screaming into the void as he fell.

Several minutes of continuous bombardment eventually passed and the Ghosts felt their surroundings gradually begin to slow down. Through the troop bay exit ports they could see the seaward perimeter of the ship yard passing beneath them, lined with a mixture of ruined and very angry UNA battleships. The remaining war ships had all of their weapons turned upwards to the sky and were adding their own explosive contributions to the fire power of the station's own static cannons. As they watched on another boat exploded, a cluster of bombs dropping from one of carrier Nyx's bombers as the aircraft swept by. Beyond the defensive naval cordon the docking bays of New Island itself stretched away, lit up with the ferocious battle between the forward three wings of drop ships and the American marine defenders. The first waves had deployed and the hard graft had begun, the storm troopers that had deployed at the primary landing sites giving their all to push the defenders back. The drop ship ploughed onwards over the shipyard and the ferocity of the defenders' fire became more and more apparent as the ranks of metal that shielded the Ghosts continued to dwindle. Finally the pilot dipped his craft's nose and gunned the engines, swooping down on the forward command post that was still being set up and passing over it towards the clearing that the Ares' warriors were establishing. The main engines flicked forwards and the whole vessel jerked to a halt, hovering a few metres off the ground. The Ghosts nodded to each other silently, a mutual signal of trust and hope, then unbuckled themselves and leapt out of the sides of the troop bay to land on the ground below.

They found themselves in the midst of yet another grim vision of hell. All around them the station was being torn apart by bombs and missiles, thousands of men and women had already lost their lives and thousands more were being thrown into the fray. The railgun towers could clearly be seen from where the Ares' troops were landing, sticking up into the smoke-filled sky like spires and unleashing their deadly payloads into the swarms of drop ships as the EDC reinforcements prepared to land. All around the Ghosts black ops storm troopers were deploying from their own transports and waving men and vehicles alike aside to clear room for more landings, spreading out their controlled area rapidly. At the front of the formation ranks of troopers dropped to one knee and levelled a storm of assault rifle fire into an advancing group of marines, executing them with ruthless precision. Their target was hidden from them by the smoke and flames for now but the wide road that lead to the control tower was right in front of them. Small heavy weapons teams took up their positions behind the main lines and obliterated the scattered UNA transports and attack vehicles that ploughed towards them through the crowds. More orders were shouted and the black ops forces spread out further as the next wave of their drop ships came in to land, carrying more men and the vehicles that would lead the charge. The Ghosts backed away from the centre of the formation and looked upwards towards the incoming tanks and buggies.

“Which one's ours?” shouted Eidur over the clamour of war, his voice barely hiding his boyish excitement. Other squads began to cluster around the Ghosts to watch the drop ships come in, waiting for their own vehicles.

Jan spotted a yellow flash down the side of one of the aircraft and pointed. “I think it's that one. Get into position.”

As the Ghosts ran forwards to signal to the ship a missile streaked out of a nearby building and struck one of the drop ship's engines. The engine exploded in a violent white fireball and tore the rest of the ship apart in a heartbeat. The remains of the buggy that it had been carrying dropped to the floor in several pieces. Eidur swore and turned away, furious and disappointed. As he did so another drop ship fell out of the sky and pulled up at the last minute, the buggy held by the mechanical claw in the ship's undercarriage hitting the ground hard. The buggy was blue and marked with a yellow stripe with - C084 - printed alongside. The claw released its cargo and the drop ship lifted away, banking high towards the open sky again only for it to suffer the same fate as the last craft only a few seconds later.

Eidur turned around again, confused. “So, is this ours then?”

“Guess so, it's got out badge on it.” Sascha shouted, shrugging.

The Icelandic sergeant gave a whoop of delight and jumped into the driver's seat as the rest of his unit struggled to mount the various seats and defensive emplacements. Sascha took the left hand firing position, Mikail took the right and Lukas manned the main turret as Jan and Sascha climbed in the back of the vehicle and leant over Eidur's shoulders to see where they were going. The buggy sat idle for a few seconds as their driver tried to work out what each button did, swearing profusely each time something that shouldn't have happened happened. Eventually, after taking the horsepower limiter on and off twice and breaking the rear fog light switch, Eidur managed to start the engine and keep everything working while the last recon team mounted their own transports. He jumped and swore yet again as the main computer screen lit up with another storm trooper's face on an open comms channel.

“Ares recon ground command to all squad leaders, do you read me?” the man said.

“Reading you loud an...” Eidur started to say before Jan punched the side of the sergeant's helmet.

“Get out of the way, idiot.” the lieutenant snapped, pushing the driver's head away from the camera and leaning over further. “Reading you loud and clear, sir.”

The man on the screen frowned and opened his mouth to admonish the team, then decided otherwise. “Follow the lead squad, don't lag behind, don't overtake. Rendezvous at the control tower and get there in one piece. Move out.”

The comms channel closed and Jan pulled himself back into the main transport bay of the buggy to give Eidur back control of the cockpit. The sergeant took hold of the control column again and revved the engine, grinning under his visor. From his position on the top of the vehicle, Lukas watched the battle before him as the ground black ops soldiers continued to cut through the enemy marines but began to take more casualties of their own. He slid his secondary visor into place and activated it, gripping the firing arms of the buggy's main gun tight as he saw the UNA ranks light up orange through the smoke. As he watched he caught sight of a squad of black ops storm troopers next to the Ghosts' buggy, still watching the sky and waiting for their own vehicle. Waving to attract their attention, the sniper made the thumb and index finger of his left hand into an 'L' shape on the front of his helmet and grinned as Eidur finally took his foot off the brake and blasted the buggy through the small opening in the storm trooper ranks ahead of them.

The Ghosts' buggy moved to the head of the recon teak straight away, which earned Eidur another punch in the head from his lieutenant. “The guy said don't overtake for gods sake, slow down!” he shouted over the noise of the engine. Eidur grumbled and put his foot back on the brake, throwing everyone forward and nearly stalling the engine. “Not that much! You sure you can drive this thing?”

“Yes! Just let me get on with it!” he snapped.

Sarah sat back in her seat and inspected the ceiling of the cabin. “We're all going to die.” she cooed.

The buggy continued onwards towards the enemy lines, the silence of its passengers split only by the roar of the engine and the cacophony of gunfire from outside it as the team's sniper opened fire on every enemy unit he could see. As the UNA defence lines grew nearer and nearer Lukas opened a comms channel from his turret down to the driver's console. “Are we there yet?” he asked in a mock child's voice, causing the rest of the buggy's occupants to erupt with laughter, all except Eidur who was now running out of foul words to use. The turret erupted into life again and Eidur opened his mouth to call out a warning, but before he could say anything the obstruction that he was about to warn his comrades about hit the front of the buggy and bounced over the front shields. Following the rest of the unit, the Ghosts' buggy ploughed through the advancing marines and kicked onwards towards the tower that lay somewhere in the distance, tearing through the smoke like a speeding bullet

[Mali32]

That was awesome imp. Knew that this chapter would be good. Perhaps because every other chapter has been good. :P Cant wait for more. Keep going. :D

[Lemartes]

I can't help but picturing a Halo Warthog... good times...

[Imperial Dragon]

In my head it looks more like this, from Haze:

http://www.ripten.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/04/haze_vehicule_buggy-storycopy.jpg

[Cordova]

You've made Lukas more awesome. Well done :)

Keep it up :)

[speeddemon217]

Excellent work as usual, only just got back from a week long holiday and wanted to get back to read the updates.

[Imperial Dragon]

Order up! Thankyou again everyone for all the praise, and it's really great to have some of our most active followers back on board :D I'm...quite happy with this one, I've enjoyed writing it and its taken a while, but I'm pleased with the end product and I hope you all will be too. So please read on and enjoy!






PARIAH

Chapter Twenty Three – The Emissary

The Harlequin drove her blade through the front of the test subject's skull. The young man died instantly, a fountain of blood gushing forth from the wound and spraying into the Pariah Master's face and over her mask. As the liquid slipped into the corner of her mouth she gently slid her pale tongue over her lips, savouring the taste. After a few moments of pleasure she released the man's head and he slumped to the floor, the thin weapon sliding free from his forehead without a sound. 05 arched her neck back with her eyes still closed and smiled, revelling in the act of murder. Smacking her lips together as a chef tasting his latest culinary creation would, she analysed the blood in her mouth.

“Hmm, too much iron.” she muttered to herself, then turned away from the corpse to inspect the array of laboratory equipment on the desk behind her. The Pariah turned a series of dials and taps, then pressed a button on the side of the desk to activate the Bunsen burner flame beneath the flask at the beginning of the chain of apparatus. Slowly the green liquid in the flask began to bubble and change colour as it passed through the system. Satisfied with her work, 05 turned back towards the open area at the centre of her testing area. Her first victim's body was still laid on the floor before her, blood still leaking from his fatal wound. “Anyone going to clean that up?” she snapped, addressing the shadows that coated the walls of the chamber. When no response beyond the rustling of her acolytes' cloaks was forthcoming she reached down towards one of the pistols at her belt. Before she could draw the weapon a cluster of servants emerged from the gloom and began to drag the dead test subject's body back towards the shadows that they had previously been hiding in. The Harlequin's hand stopped just above the grip of the pistol for a moment, then with blinding speed she drew the weapon from its holster and killed one of the retreating acolytes with a single shot. “Too slow.” she said, watching the three remaining bundles of cloth shuffle back into the darkness with renewed urgency.

A hiss from her desk caught The Harlequin's attention and she turned back to her work, adjusting more of the equipment and catching her hand in the flame in the process. Instinctively she recoiled from the heat and sucked on her burnt finger before she remembered her abilities and forgot about the fleeting pain as the skin regenerated. She looked up as a thin whimper drifted from one of the row of cages that lined the more brightly lit wall in front of her, the lighting panels in the ceiling casting a baleful green glow on the prisons' dishevelled occupants. A young woman who looked no more than twenty years old sat in the corner of her cage, filthy grey rags that still bore the faint remnants of a potential Pariah's code number swaddling her skeletal frame. Her ragged hair was greying with some areas burnt away completely. More burns covered the areas of her face that her ashen hair revealed. She had been pretty once, maybe even beautiful. The woman noticed her captor's gaze fall on her and looked up, drawing in a startled breath. A gentle trickle of tears ran down her right cheek, dripping from her angled chin onto the cold floor beneath. Her left eye was vacant and produced no tears, an island of white in the ocean of seared skin.

The Harlequin cocked her head to one side. “What is it?” Her prisoner remained silent other than a barely audible sniffle. “Speak.” the Pariah demanded.

“I'm scared.”

05 smiled almost sweetly and walked around her desk to stand before the bars of the cage. “You have nothing to fear, my child. What is it that you see cause to fear?” Again the question was greeted by silence. The Master bowed her head and knelt down at the prisoner's eye level. The woman in the cage backed away in fright, shuffling further into the corner of her prison. “Pain is a natural response, brought about by the fear of death. The drug will remove your pain, so you need not fear pain. Without pain, death holds no terror. This is the glory of the great work that you are a part of here. If you fail, you will die, but your failure will bring the work closer to success. If you succeed, you will survive and the work will be complete!” 05 smiled again, though the smile diminished somewhat as she saw that her prisoner was not returning the gesture.

After a few more moments of silence the young woman spoke. “If I survive, what happens to me then?” she asked, a slight hint of strength returning to her voice.

The Pariah rose once again to her full height. “You will be...” she paused, her smile taking on a more malicious tone, “transformed. Though into what I'm not yet sure.” The solitary eye that lay uncovered by her mask seemed to flicker slightly before she continued to speak. “That's where the fun is!”

A loud crash shook the room, accompanied by a burst of light as the heavy bulkhead doors slid open. The Master span around, the swirling digital images on her mask flashing into life in response to her shock. The light from the corridor outside diminished as a huge shadow was revealed in the doorway, almost obliterating the entirely of the illumination with its bulk. As the doors slid back into their housings, the titan strode slowly forwards, the entire laboratory echoing with each terrible footfall. As the figure entered, the doors slowly and loudly sealed themselves and the dominance of the dim green light was re-established.

“Having fun, Harlequin?” The Spartan asked.

05 looked up at the head of her council, her face still coated in a thick film of blood. “Well, clearly. To what do I owe the honour?”

“Not the best of news, I'm afraid.” 01 strode over to the desk and placed his helmet down on its surface, knocking one of the experiment components slightly as he did so which elicited a twitch of anger from his fellow Master. The Spartan's voice lost some of it's booming power with the removal of the amplifiers in his helmet, but the giant of a man still caused The Harlequin's over-developed senses a measure of pain simply by speaking. “The future that we feared is coming to pass.”

“Where are they now?”

“New Island. The EDC have just made their landings and the target squad is part of the spearhead to take the station command.”

“How does that affect us, exactly?”

Pariah 01 snorted with condescension. “New Island is the gateway to our heartland, as you know. If the shipyard falls, the Atlantic falls. Then New York itself falls. Then the confederacy is but a short step away from sweeping through this city and destroying everything that we have worked for. They force our hand, five.”

The Harlequin's eye narrowed. “'Force our hand'? Things haven't got that severe yet, have they?”

“We speak of the end of our order, five. Thing's could not get more severe.”

05 turned her head to the side as if to make sure she was not being overheard, then leaned in slightly. “So you have everyone else's approval?”

“Yes, except yours. Are you prepared to do what needs to be done?”

“Such is father's will. We must continue his legacy.”

A faint flicker of a smile crossed 01's face beneath his hood. “Good. Finish your experiments, collect your equipment and pick up your transportation from the basement. I need you at the capital by morning.”

The uncovered silver eye on 05's face widened once again as the realisation dawned. “This is my duty?” she asked, shocked.

“Indeed, and your honour. I am needed here to coordinate our efforts, two is busy preparing for the worst as ever and I don't trust three or four with something this important. Plus, this is your plan. Everything has to be in place by the time the Ghosts succeed on New Island. Once they seize the command tower, you will receive word from us. Once you do, take up your position and issue the order.”

The Harlequin grinned at the news, her pale teeth glinting even in the pale light. “Then we win?”

“Then we win. You can even have some fun doing it, if you like.” The Spartan watched the excitement build in the other Master intently. “Can I count on you for this?”

05 raised her hand in salute. “Of course. I will depart within the hour.”

The Spartan returned the gesture and turned towards the doors as his fellow Master watched him leave. Once the laboratory was sealed again The Harlequin turned back to her apparatus, still buzzing with barely contained excitement. She hurried the final distillation through and took a thin tube containing a thick silver liquid from the end of the complicated system. Sealing the open end of the tube and placing it between her teeth, she pulled the pistol that she had used to deadly effect earlier from its holster and pushed a level into place, changing the shape of the weapon's barrel. Sliding the tube into the new hole on the back of the weapon and twisting the barrel to seal it in, 05 loaded the gun then turned to point it directly at the young woman in her cage. Before her final victim could so much as utter a cry The Harlequin's concoction stabbed into the woman's neck in a weaponised syringe. The drug was injected in seconds before the shock of the impact had worn off, then the syringe detached and fell empty to the floor as the woman began to convulse. The Pariah watched on with morbid fascination as the convulsions slowly stopped and the woman slowly pushed herself back to her feet, then collapsed against the bars of the cage. Her mouth dropped open as she gagged for air, her whole face crawling with barely contained energy. The burns on her face slowly began to heal, fresh, beautiful new skin replacing the damage and sight gradually returning to her left eye. Her hair began to regrow over her regenerated features, slightly longer than it had been before. The Harlequin grinned maniacally and rushed back to her desk to begin writing down the alterations that had produced the new formula. As she finished her notes she looked back up at her prisoner, the smile on the Pariah's face quickly disappearing. The skin of the woman's face slowly began to slide free of her flesh, taking her scalp and hair with it. Over several agonising seconds the whole of the skin on her head separated itself from the rest of her body and slumped to the floor in a wet heap. The terrifying visage of the woman's skinless face remained, dripping with blood and screaming silently in terror and excruciating pain towards her tormentor. With a final grating gasp of air, the woman let out a terrible deathly screech at The Harlequin before finally crashing to the floor of her prison, killed by her own pain. 05 took a few seconds to calm herself, then tore up her notes, turned and left the room.

[Mali32]

Awesome imp. Cant wait for more. Know i keep saying it but its always true. Keep it going. Sounds like there is still some good stuff to come. Epic. :D

[Lemartes]

Bah! Mali beat me, it's always a bit of a race to be first to reply after reading the update...

Great stuff, looking forward to seeing the final confrontation between The EDC and the Pariahs...

[speeddemon217]

Things just got interesting. You've certainly got a talent for bringing things out of nowhere imp, keep it up!

[Cordova]

Awesome work Imp. I like it. I'm off on holiday for a week or so so I expect some good stuff when I get back :)

[Imperial Dragon]

Awesome work Imp. I like it. I'm off on holiday for a week or so so I expect some good stuff when I get back :)

I exist only to serve.

[Cordova]

I exist only to serve.

Good to hear :P

Looking forwards to it then :)

[speeddemon217]

Well if I wasn't addicted before I most certainly am now. I'm begging to check 3 times a day for updates now. By the way imp, what do the carriers look like anyway since I imagine them as the exact same as the aircraft carriers we have today at sea but flying. I expect this to be completely off though.

[Imperial Dragon]

I can't find anything on google images that looks anywhere near my sketches of the things, so I'll draw one for you all tomorrow after I get back from work. The sketch will hopefully be closely followed by an update, though I haven't decided whether I'm going straight on to chapter 24 or putting more into The Emissary first.

[Lemartes]

I imagine them to be more of an oval cylinder kind of shape, with an inverted gorge at the bottom where the drop ships hang from, and a runway on top where the fighters launch from, Kind of giant versions of the ships on "The Matrix"

[speeddemon217]

Amazing how much people's ideas on things differ given a clean slate to make them.

[Imperial Dragon]

I'll try and explain it. There are a lot of continuity errors in the book where I've changed things midway through and forgotten to edit, but in the MEGA-EDIT after ive finished writing on here we'll clear all that up.

Most of the carriers I talk about in the book are Virtue-class EDC carriers. The body itself is a cuboid with rounded sides that slopes down to a keel-like shape under the vessel. Lines of repulsorlift MPEC engine panels run the full length of the underbelly with spaces left in between. Also on the underbelly are the eight large panels that cover the points where the particle cannons emerge from. The cannons themselves are longer than the ship is deep, so they stick out like spines. At the rear of the body the hull tapers off to a point. This "tail" houses the main MPEC generator used to power the engines. On either side of the tail to long spikes are built out from the body, kind of like a slug's tail. These are covered in rings of small engine plates like the ones on the belly which are activated together to form the main forwards thrust of the ship. At the carrier's nose the body is completely flat and open, the cavity there leading into the internal hangar area. On top of the ship the main deck is much like that on a regular naval carrier, only much larger. The other main feature is that the deck is split in two by the cleft that leads down into the internal deck too, the hole that the original C084 dropship exited from when the Charon was shot down in chapter 1. The dropships load up and leave from the internal deck, the air force flight crews leave from the main deck. Towards the nose on top of the ship the command deck is located. It looks like a sphere stretched into a cylinder and is held in place above the main deck by two large arms attached to the edge of the deck. That's where the Admiral's nest is, where Adm Mikkelsen was stood during Breaching The Cordon on board the Helios. The fighters, bombers etc have to fly under the command deck to exit the carrier. Some of the older carriers like the Tyrus don't have that last feature, they just have a tower on one side of the main deck that houses the commanders. The last notable feature I think its that each carrier has two "wings" that I don't think I've talked about much. The're each longer than the carrier is wide and are just frames: the centre of each wing is cut out so they're not solid like on a normal plane.

That should be about it. The Ares is a Titan-class and is basically a much larger modern Virtue-class with more advanced equipment and more weapons. I'll post up a drawing tomorrow but that's my rough description :D

[speeddemon217]

So it looks a bit like this in general shape?

http://static.howstuffworks.com/gif/predator-7.jpg

[Imperial Dragon]

Ooo! Actually, I've just found this:

http://www.acecombat.jp/ace6/estovakia/aigaion01.jpg

The underside's very wrong, so is the top and the rest isn't perfect but you get the idea.

[speeddemon217]

This is starting to turn into a good game trying to find a picture that looks like a carrier.

[Imperial Dragon]

Right, I've been side-tracked by being enlisted to write for Shirrif's AoD among other problems, so there won't be an update tonight. Tomorrow is PARIAH day (wewp!) so I'll be working on chapter 24 all day :)

[ananab]

Write faster damn you ! Don't you know you're causing sleepless nights over what will happen? Great story, keep it up.

[Imperial Dragon]

Here we go, at last :D Another new character for you and the sheer fury of the storm trooper corps brought crashing down on the UNA for the first time :D Hopefully the next update shouldn't take too long, I'm away tomorrow but Wednesday should be a free day for working. Enjoy!





PARIAH

Chapter Twenty Four – The Battle For New Island

Smoke and fire filled the sky above the shipyard as the last of the EDC's reinforcements were deployed. The drop ships that had survived the first landings had escaped back to their carriers and were new sweeping back over the seaward perimeter of the station to unleash barrage after barrage of explosives on what remained of the UNA forward defences. Every single battleship that had remained behind to defend their base had been annihilated by the ceaseless bombardments. The defensive emplacements on New Island were still delivering their lethal payloads into the sky and cutting down droves of drop ships, fighters and bombers like flies. On the station itself the American marines continued to push against their enemy and made them pay a heavy price for every yard gained. Still the invaders advanced through sheer numbers more than anything else. Never before had the storm trooper corps committed this volume of manpower to an operation and the blue-armoured soldiers almost outnumbered the ill-equipped defenders. One by one the perimeter defence towers fell silent and the three confederate spearheads pushed onwards into the UNA defensive lines.

The various storage hangars and barracks across the shipyard offered little protection as the storm troopers advanced, nothing more than shattered hulks remaining after the lethal aerial assault. Swiftly but with methodical precision the EDC army swept through the ruins, executing any targets in their path. Sergeant Jacob McIntosh rolled out of the way of a missile as it flew past, righted himself and fired three bullets into the missile launcher wielder's head. He shifted his posture slightly but stayed low to the ground, emptying the rest of his clip at head height into the twisting smokescreen as the rest of his squad pushed forward. A vicious swarm of rounds sprayed out from the other storm troopers behind him, spurts of blood and abrupt screams the only response from the smoke. One by one the other nineteen squads from Jacob's detachment advanced into the smoke, scanning the area with the scopes in their visors. The sergeant stood up and flexed his neck as his thermal imaging cameras showed the road ahead to be clear. The other soldiers ran past him up the road and one of his own squad mates slapped his leader on the back.

“Come on Mac, keep going.” The other soldier slid his visor up and took a welcome breath of relatively fresh air.

Jacob grinned. “You're the one lagging behind, kid.” Both men ran on after the rest of the detachment with their weapons at the ready. “How many did we lose?”

The other storm trooper slid his visor back into place, his jovial expression fading. “Four. Jay and Sonny when we dropped, then Smith when we pushed through that last hangar. The medics are with Amy back there now but it doesn't look good, sir.”

The sergeant conveyed no emotion and just concentrated on catching up with the others, breaking into a run as more gunfire sounded, much closer by. The next veil of smoke passed as he ran through a hole in the side of the next burning warehouse. The ranks of storm troopers ahead were crouched down, making use of what cover they could and firing blindly into the air ahead of them as night finally took hold. As Jacob took up his position again and scanned the area before him, he caught sight of the problem. Hastily erected barricades from various machine parts lined the next section of road and behind them stood rank upon rank of marines, firing indiscriminately towards the advancing EDC lines. Worse still, the familiar drone of repeated machine gun fire was punctuated by a much more chilling sound: that of the UNA marines 1st company's trademark blade-rifles. The heavy thumping sounds as each Ghoul opened fire seemed to hit each storm trooper in the heart and each sound was accompanied by another, a sickening crunch as the Ghoul's target fell back, dead. The tiny map in the corner of Jacob's visor screen showed the rest of the spearhead that his own squad, H944, formed part of being held up along a line of similar fortifications stretching into the distance on both sides. The Ghouls were thinly dispersed, it seemed, but making their presence clearly felt.

The two soldiers in front of Jacob fell with barely a sound, assault rile rounds puncturing their neck armour and scoring fatal wounds. Jacob turned and took a brace of bullet hits to the shoulder and head, his battle armour easily deflecting the rounds clear. Aiming his gun past his shoulder guard and locking onto the faces of several UNA targets he opened fire, spraying a volley of death at his enemies. Yet more marines fell and the storm troopers began to press forward once again, but the advance was slow. Finally the Ghouls waved their warriors back and the marines began to retreat, firing and dying as they went. The EDC invaders pressed on, buoyed by their apparent victory. The elation was swept away as quickly as it had appeared, however, as the storm troopers ran directly into the next level of defences. Jacob had barely vaulted the shattered barricade than the two ranks in front of him were cut down in an explosion of bullets, screams and blood. He dived backwards, barely escaping the flood of hot metal that slaughtered so many of his comrades. Rolling to his feet again and backing away from the press, Jacob desperately scanned the smoke ahead to see what it was that had nearly killed him too. Shield grenades were thrown over the storm troopers' heads and a temporary barricade of energy shields was established. Beyond the shields Jacob could just make out a massive steel gate, its frame lined with soldiers and heavy machine guns that continued to tear through the corpses of his comrades and on into the shields themselves. The Ghouls stood with whichever marines they could get hold of in front of the gate and continued to fire randomly into the press of Europeans. Jacob turned to look for the rest of his squad, but the men and women that he had fought with since the start of the war were nowhere to be seen.

The first of the shields began to fail under the relentless barrage. Jacob and the other soldiers around him began to scramble backwards again, forgetting to use their weapons as stray bullets whipped around their legs. More shields gave in and again more fatalities emerged. It felt to Jacob as though death itself was hunting him down, getting nearer and nearer until the nightmare was final ended by a thunderous report from behind him. Emerging through the smoke and flame, three light tanks bearing carrier Poseidon's icons pushed through the rubble and opened fire on the defenders, annihilating both turrets and blowing a large gash down the middle of the gate. The Ghouls were knocked backwards, the skin flayed from their faces under the ferocity of the tank's assault. Reinvigorated by the breach the storm troopers charged forwards once again, firing as they ran and cutting down the last of the defenders. Jacob tripped over a body as he neared what remained of the gate. As he was scrambling back to his feet he felt a hand grab his ankle and bring him back to the floor with more strength than any normal human could call upon. Rolling over, he looked up into the face of one of the Ghouls, or what remained of it's face. What had once been a woman shrieked at the sergeant with her mostly skinless face, both of her eyes missing and blood pouring from every orifice of her head, raising her other hand to tear him apart. Before she could take hold of her victim again a full clip of assault rifle fire perforated her head and sent her crashing to the floor. Jacob looked up at the young soldier from his squad, visor retracted, grinning and saluting with his rifle leaking steam. The young man's face then contorted in shock and agony as a giant glistening blade erupted from his stomach, dripping with his lifeblood. The sword was withdrawn, the storm trooper fell to his knees and the hissing Ghoul behind him staggered forward to finish Jacob. The blade came down, point first, straight through the sergeant's throat.

***

The Ghosts continued to scream towards the command tower at frightening speed, Eidur seeming to lose control of the vehicle every few seconds. Sascha and Mikail had given up trying to shoot from their cradles on the sides of the buggy and were simply hanging on for dear life. Lukas was little better off on the main turret, spending more time ducking flying pieces of scrap metal and parts of buildings than doing any actual shooting. Despite all the dangers brought on by the Icelandic sergeant's erratic driving and the incoming fire from the UNA marines that attempted to halt their progress. Two of the buggies in the convoy had already been destroyed in spectacular explosions, but much to Jan's astonishment Eidur had managed to keep the six of them out of harm's way. All this time the heady heights of the station's control centre grew nearer and nearer, more ominous in its visage. As Eidur sent the buggy careering through a confused and isolated squad of marines, killing several of them and threatening to dislodge the more precariously positioned Ghosts. Jan's forehead clanged away from one of the structural beams in the vehicle's cockpit. Shaking the dizziness from his head, he looked up towards where he knew the main turret was held.

“You all right up there, Fritz?” Silence was the only response offered. “Fritz?”

“Yes, for now, but not for long. Look behind you.”

Jan scrambled back into the main hold of the buggy and slid back the viewing panel on the rear door. Peering out into the sweeping trails of smoke that trailed away behind them, Jan finally caught sight of the objects that Lukas had been talking about. A small cluster of lights and shining metal reached Jan through the smoke, approaching rapidly. The vehicles that the lights were built onto were still invisible, but the illuminated patterns and the engine noise were clues enough to the lieutenant. He pulled himself back towards the cockpit and snatched the communications handset from Eidur's console.

“Taylor to all recon vehicles. Pick up visual scanning. Attack bikes at six o'clock.”

[Mali32]

OMG that was awesome imp. Very cool. I really like these little exerpts that show us the war from other peoples points of view. Very intriguing. Cant wait for more so keep up the good work. :D

[Lemartes]

Yes, very good indeed, I still can't get the picture of endless nights playing halo out of my head though, driving around in warthogs...

[Imperial Dragon]

Haha, I don't want to be associated with that microsoft trash :P GO SONY!!

[Lemartes]

Psshhh... what ever dude...



:D

[Imperial Dragon]

:D

[Mali32]

Forget microsoft and sony Mac ftw. :D