Capachino stood at the square staring down Luck.

As night fell, the plasma residue radiated a gentle blue glow.

The howling engines of Trojan dropships approached ever closer.

Luck squinted his eyes as he stared into the empty eye sockets of Capachino, “I don’t take orders from you Capachino”

In a feat of defiance, Luck walked past Capachino, calling out to his men, “We’re going home, boys. Move it! Get the injured and the dead!”

Without turning Capachino spoke with a mild distaste, “Tisk, I guess what they say about you is true… Cap’n Luck… your too… soft.”

Capachino tilted his hat up, he saw the 7th Company's Trojan Dropships as they landed to pick up the remains of the battered company.

At the same time a Capachino could sense the vague outlines of something moving within the shadows.

Without even signaling to his men, they got into squad formations and disappeared into the shadow as well.

The 1st Company was made up of the battle hardened vets from the last war.

But there was a catch, all of them were not sain at all.

Their minds were shattered long ago, forever to relive the moments from the brutal war they fought not in vivid details.

Even now as they move through the streets to set up firing positions, their eyes widen and their skins tighten in a perpetual state of stress.

As they relive the hell they faced in their minds.

They fought with surprising coordination and tactical precision.

What made them worse was their seemingly unwillingness to surrender.

Opting suicide by grenade, whenever backed into a corner.

As Capachino walked to the destroyed outpost he could hear the sound of plasma fire ringing into the night mimicking the tapping of his own feet.

(BOOM!)

“...One”

(BOOM!)

“...Two”

Capachino, counted as he walked, knowing fully well what those noises meant.

His walk was nonchalant, seemingly uncaring whether or not he would be attacked.

Just moments after, a silhouette of a man standing on the rubbles of the outpost could be seen.

Surrounding him, several dozen others with similar appearances.

The man spoke with a uncompromising tone, “We’ll shi’z, it’su abo’ut time you sho’wed up,”

The man who spoke was G-Tea, the leader of Mithril.

His body was encrusted with augmentations with several lining of gold.

He had a white fur coat that hung from his neck.

His bionic eyes were just as cold as Capachino’s empty and utterly void of… humanity.

G-Tea raised a smile.

“Le’ts ge-” (VOOSH!)

Just as G-Tea spoke a missile shot hissed from his side towards Capachino, moments later a thunderous clap could be heard as smoke and debris tossed up into the air.

As it settled however, G-Tea’s smile disappeared.

Capachino stood unflinching.

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“Oh? A r’eal Gen’2 SU’PER-hu’man?”

G-Teas mood worsened as he noticed several windows with looming shadows behind it.

“An’d your bois are hey’a too?”

One of his men noticing as well whispered to G-Tea, “U-uh…B-Boss wat do w’e do?!”

G-Tea removed his fur coat as he leaped down from the rubble.

He landed with the force of an elevator that had lost its cable, smashing the concrete.

“Hav’ya forgott’en our motto? Cax?”

G-Tea raised his got into a martial art position, his voice echoed into the street, “AS C’OLD AS G’OLD AND TOUGH AS STEEL!”

At the same time a wall of plasma fire from the windows showered G-Tea.

Unafraid G-Tea spoke, “G’OLD RUSH!”

A barrage of punches from G-Tea appeared in quick succession.

G-Tea punched the plasma mid air, shattering it, contacting it for less than a second; his cybernetic arms remained mostly undamaged, albeit glowing slightly due to the heat generated.

The scene was remarkable, maybe even mystical, like a piston of an engine G-Tea fended off each plasma as if an umbrella against the rain.

But through the rain of hissing plasma, Capachino ran through it like a bull.

And crashed into G-Tea, catching him by surprise.

“W-at!”

Capachino grabbed G-Tea by the throat, his goat skull ominous as it stared down G-Tea.

The steel neck of G-Tea was giving up, creeks and shrikes of engines roared at the intensity of the grip.

G-Tea’s mechanical limbs whirred to life as it activated its advanced combat systems.

The cyborg's metal fists clashed against the Capachino’s white bones, sparks flying as bone met steel.

To G-Tea’s horror, the bones wouldn’t break, rather his fists were being chipped and pricked.

In that moment G-Tea activated another ability he raised his palms towards Capachino’s skull, “E’AT THIS”

“KI’NETIC WITHD’RAWAL!”

An intense magnetic force could be felt, that crashed into Capachino like a freight train.

He was knocked back and crashed into a building back as if a bomb had exploded at point blank range.

As G-Tea had a moment to reorganize himself he noticed the battle happening around him, the MPD forces and his remaining gangsters were in a heated firefight.

“S-shit...”

From his pocket G-Tea pulled out a red micro chip, and inserted it into his cybernetic head via a port.

[Chip Acknowledged: Booting up Protocol]

This specific chip was a combat module. Programmed by fixers and tinkerers for various uses.

To a cyber like G-Tea a valuable tool which could enhance his fighting prowess.

G-Teas eyes glowed brighter as he could see several panels appear before his eyes.

His joints hissed as the turbines in his body began to spiral and incredible speeds.

But as quickly as Capachino disappeared, he came back.

Capachino threw his bone spikes at G-Tea catching him by surprise due to their almost invisible nature.

“Arg’H! Son of’a”

(BOOM!)

Bone spikes exploded, each bone fragment shattering and biting off metal and debris.

G-Tea’s body was as if it had been cut one thousand times.

His gold trims were scratched and chipped, his steel body cracked and bulking.

Capachino grabbed one of his own arms and pulled it off, causing a loud snap to ring throughout the street.

It was as if he was holding a white bat with nails sticking out of it, a shrewd weapon.

In the first time, Capachino spoke, each word chilling while commanding violence, “Ever wonder what the devil looks like?”

“Well I’m standing right here…”

At that moment Capachino ran towards G-Tea with his makeshift club.

Each step fracturing the ground, each second seemingly closer to death.

[Emergency-Combat Protocol- Engaged!]

G-Teas body moved on its own, his arms sprang up blocking the impact of the club with his arms.

(WACK!)

The impact made a cracking noise that of a whip, but Capachino wasn’t done, a barrage of swings impacted G-Tea as if a father was beating his own son with a belt.

(WACK!) (WACK!) (WACK!) (WACK!)

Each impact left a nasty gash as the spikes from the skeletal arm club punctured the metal frame as if it were a syringe trying to draw blood.

(WACK!) (WACK!) (WACK!) (WACK!) (WACK!) (WACK!) (WACK!) (WACK!)

Glimmers of gold could be seen on the ground contrasting the oil and small metal scrap.

(WACK!) (WACK!) (WACK!) (WACK!) (WACK!) (WACK!) (WACK!) (WACK!) (WACK!) (WACK!) (WACK!) (WACK!)

When the beating stopped G-Tea stood as a shadow of his former self.

His robust mechanical body was ripped into, with savagery and ferocity of a cruel beast seeking pleasure of the kill rather than the necessity for it.

The gold trims that once lined his body were dark and covered with black oil as if an apple had rotten.

Fumes leaked through the gaps, as G-Tea’s body twitched as the last bit of energy pulsed in his body.

The metallic and foul smell of machine and oil lingered in the air.

Seeing as no more pain could be inflicted Capachino reattached his arm. As if he was an athlete reconfiguring his dislocated shoulder.

Afterwards, Capachino placed his right hand on the forehead of G-Tea who was barely alive.

This was the most pain he could inflict, the last act a executioner must do.

Capachino stared at the barely living THING, feeling satisfied he spoke, “White Tree.”

In that moment, a sharp needle-like object immediately shot out of Capachino’s palm into G-Tea's head down to his toe.

Even G-Teas cybernetic body couldn’t withstand the sheer amount of pain and force being inflicted upon it.

“A-AARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH” (CRACK!)

And just as quickly it grew and it sprouted in an instant as if a tree was bursted from within G-Tea’s body.

The pain was extraordinary, it was as if one had swallowed a puffer fish that had torn and ripped your insides from throat to stomach.

In G-Tea’s place was a silky white bone tree, albeit slightly covered in blood and black oil.

It had no leaves, and it was surrounded by scraps of steel and gold.

It was a mystical sight, or a beautiful one, for Capachino.

>>>

Epilogue

The 1st Company Squads of Capachino’s carried out their duties well, they slaughtered the entirety of the Mithril guild that dared to remain in the vicinity. While only taking minimal losses.

When the fight was over Capachino ordered his men to nail the dead gangsters to the concrete walls of the destroyed MPD outpost as a message to Dark Side, it worked for the most part, as no gang dared try to claim the open territory for their own.

Sweetener and her Nocturne gang, although present at the scene, never committed fully to an attack resulting in their survival.

The Mithril gang or atleast what was left over was devoured by smaller gangs and Nocturne, putting an end to their long lasting legacy. Like a lamp to the slaughter.

Scooter and his NOX gang also thrived as they tried to fill in the gap in Dark Side left by the MPD and Mithril gang.

Captain Luck, and his men after retrieving the black box from the outpost were able to see who was responsible for the attack.

A man in an old military uniform, with musty hair and light skin, General J. Bottle. And a little girl?

The event was reported to the higher ups within the MPD for review.

END