Oath of the Survivor

Garth was pissed.  He had spent an entire morning looking for his team, only to find out that Porter Rathman of all people had conscripted them to run an errand without his permission.   Rathman had been instructed by DeRosa to inform Garth, but apparently, he’d forgotten to do so.  Yeah, better chance DeRosa puts Kyle in charge of Central Authority.  That had been almost a week ago, and he’d just received word that they were making their way through the front gate to the city. 

“Where the hell did you take my team, Rathman?” 

The acid in Garth’s voice clearly took the other man by surprise, but he quickly regained his composure. 

“I was following orders, Boltsbury.  I was on a special assignment from the Councilman himself, and you’d do well to remember your station.”

“I remember mine just fine, and I also remember yours.  Disgraced gatekeeper turned administrative assistant isn’t a good look.  Keep your stench away from my people, Rathman.  Get sick.  Get injured.  Go get eaten by a bug.  But never, and I mean never take my team without my say so again.  I don’t care if the thrice-damned Originators themselves told you to do it, you try to pull a stunt like this again and I’ll put you in the dirt.” 

The man visibly paled, but continued to meet Garth’s eyes for a moment longer. Ultimately, he faltered under Garth’s withering stare and made his way into the city.  Garth turned to his team, who had watched the whole interaction.  From the stupid grin on Joseph’s face, it was clear that his team thought his ire was reserved for Porter.  That was an assumption Garth planned to correct.  Vigorously.

Several hours of brutal training later, Joseph was puking from the exertion.  Mary Ellen and Johannes were both on the ground, exhausted.  At first glance he looked as rough as his squad mates, but Garth knew that Terrance held up better than he was letting on.  Still something off there. Garth thought.  Satisfied that the hours of physical training acted as an appropriate punishment, he dismissed his group to leave.  As they left the training area to clean up, he stopped Joseph. 

“What was the mission, Joseph?” 

The pudgy man flinched at being addressed so directly before responding.

“Rathman told us not to talk about it, sir.”

“And I’m telling you to tell me what the mission was, Joseph.” 

There was a moment of silence before the young man looked down. 

“Can I just go?  I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Joseph, I’m asking you because it’s important.  I’m not going to make you stay here, and I’m not going to threaten you if you don’t tell me.  Just know that you’re my team, and I don’t want you getting caught up in political games with people like Porter.” 

Joseph nodded in response and began to walk away.  He paused at the entrance of the door and turned back to Garth. 

“We were delivering supplies to a group of rough looking people camped out a few days west of here.  Porter said that the Councilman struck some sort of deal to give food to them to leave the refugees alone.” 

Joseph paused, wiping sweat from his brow before continuing. 

“I don’t think it was food though.  The crates we were bringing were heavy, but too small to be enough food for a group that sized.  I… I used to work at a store.  My parents always told me to have more ambition, but I honestly liked it.  And I can tell you whatever was in the crates, it wasn’t food.”

Garth walked up to the young man with a warm smile. 

“Thank you for telling me, Joseph.  This stays with us.  If anybody ever tries to take you and the others afield without me again, tell them you’re under orders to report to me first.  Now go hit the showers and get some rest.” 

Joseph didn’t return the smile, just turned and left.  As Joseph walked away, Garth considered what he’d been told.  Something here wasn’t adding up, but for now there wasn’t much he could do with it.  Garth was more bothered that his team didn’t seem to trust him.  He knew he’d been hard on them, but that’s how things worked in Central Defense.  He filed it away before he, too, went to grab a bite to eat before settling in for the evening.

~~~

Kyle didn’t stop to think.  C.H.A.D.D. fell to the ground with a loud thump, and Kyle grabbed the drone and pulled it to his chest, curling around it protectively.  He was resilient enough to handle the gunfire, he would wait for an opening, then look to – pain blossomed along his back, and in panic he realized that these weren’t the bullets he was used to.  Whatever types of rifles these bandits had, they were an order of magnitude stronger.  These were weapons designed to take down awakened. 

Bullets slammed into his back over and over, unable to pierce deeply enough to kill, but requiring his full attention with both HEAL and REGENERATION to keep under control.  He didn’t dare activate HASTE, knowing full well that if he amplified the pain from his injuries, he’d lose control of his skills.  Suddenly, mercifully, the gunfire stopped.  He’d been shot no less than a dozen times, and while he was healing he knew his back was a bloody mess. 

He’d been able to shield C.H.A.D.D. from the worst of it, but he could hear the little drone sparking and sputtering as he stayed curled around it.  He lay unmoving, focusing on recovering when he heard the loud booming voice. 

“GET UP YOU WORTHLESS WORM!!!” 

The men around him seemed to shy away from the voice, expressions of fear evident on their faces.  Kyle lifted his head, and he saw a mountain of a man approaching from over a nearby hill. 

He was morbidly obese, shirtless and wearing pants that had been shredded and torn.  The top of his head was bald, with greasy streaks of hair falling over his shoulders.  His pallid yellow skin was covered in a sheen of grime, and on each hand was the skull of an ox.  The air around each of the skulls seemed to shimmer, making the hair on the back of Kyle’s neck stand up. 

There was an unmistakable aura of power to the disgusting man, and Kyle had no doubt that the leader of the raiders had come out to deal with him personally.  Between his injuries and trying to protect C.H.A.D.D., Kyle had no confidence in winning a straight up fight.  The man stopped his approach, stopping a dozen meters away.  Spittle flew out of his mouth as he resumed shouting at Kyle. 

“Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused you little pig?  How much you’ve embarrassed me and my men?” 

His expression changed, a sick smile twisting the corners of his mouth as his volume lowered.   

“Don’t worry, we won’t kill you here. I’m going to make sure that this takes a long, long time.  You’re going to suffer until you beg for mercy, you’ll…” 

But Kyle stopped paying attention to his would-be killer as he saw something else behind the oblivious monologuer.  Another form had crested the hill, revealing itself to be another huge man, dressed in black and grey mottled combat fatigues.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he charged directly down the hill toward the bandit leader, a wicked two-headed battle axe gripped in his hands.  A handful of other figures began to appear on the hill, well behind the charging figure.  A cry of warning went up from several of the raiders, but it was too late.  The greasy bandit turned in surprise towards his new attacker, just in time to be cut cleanly in two as the axe came down. 

Kyle felt the ground beneath him shake at the force of the blow, and was struck with awe for a moment before regaining his bearings.  He winced in pain as he tried to stand, looking for a way out.  The other raiders were stunned by the sudden arrival and slow to react.  Kyle looked to the man who was beelining straight in his direction. 

“You the Mayhew kid?” The mountainous man shouted. 

“How do you know my name?”

“No time!” 

The man grabbed Kyle in his free arm and kept running, nearly knocking C.H.A.D.D. out of his arms.  Gunfire erupted behind them as the remaining bandits got their bearings.  He was tempted to look over his shoulder, but knew in times like these he had to stay focused.  For a moment it looked like they’d make it out, but Kyle’s hopes were dashed as he saw a group of rough-clad men approaching from the direction of the main bandit camp. 

What’s worse, Kyle could see that they, too were outfitted with the same sleek black rifles as the others.  They were taking aim at the duo, and Kyle paused as he felt the mana draw into the large man’s right arm.  He dropped Kyle as he shouted. 

“Hold onto your hat!” 

Kyle had a moment of relief as he heard a quiet reply from the drone in his arms

[AS A POINT OF FACT, DR. MAYHEW ISN’T WEARING A - ]

For the second time today, C.H.A.D.D. was interrupted mid-sentence as the man’s arm slammed into the ground beneath them.  Stones around them broke, the earth shifted, and a massive cloud of dust was kicked up at the strike, obscuring them from view.  Kyle instinctively closed his eyes at the tremor, C.H.A.D.D. falling from his arms. 

When he opened them, he, the bulky stranger, and the little drone were all at the center of a small crater.  The toll from that technique was obvious, the man’s large arm was clearly broken.  He watched as the titan reached into his combat jacket with his good hand and pulled out a small device. 

“Valentine’s gonna rip me a new one for this, but you gotta do what you gotta do.  Grab my arm and hold on tight.” 

Kyle had an endless list of questions, but he knew this wasn’t the time or place.  Nodding, he grabbed the man’s good arm.  The titan pressed a button on the small device and the world around them blurred. 

~~~

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