Don Kuat

Now ...

My bulwark takes off and rockets into the distance, chasing after the rapidly receding figures of the Blue Ocean operatives and leaving behind the obliterated public park with what's left of Number 75 in it. If I'm lucky that nuisance failed to pull out of his host body in time, but I don't have the time to spare worrying about that now. I need to catch up with the presumed Saint, otherwise everything would be put into jeopardy.

The serum in my blood surges as it augments my flying speed, allowing me to steadily eat up the distance between myself and the Blue Ocean flunkies. The Directorate may have gotten complacent about Blue Ocean, but I have to give them credit for one thing at least. In any direct contest of strength between me and a Blue Ocean operative, I would always be able to overpower them. The fight with Number 75 proved this quite definitively. And I'm also making good progress in eating up the lead the presumed Saint's pursuers have on me.

Still, fighting 75 had taken its toll. Blue Ocean may be weaker than us, but their strength still towers over any regular Valkyrie. My HUD displays a wire frame representation of the bulwark with the entire machine painted piss yellow. I had also lost one of my auto pistols, effectively halving my firepower if I exclude the bulwark's rocket pod. The damage my machine suffered is not yet severe enough to affect its performance otherwise, but it certainly is at a worrying level.

With a mental command, I tap once more into the serum and command my bulwark to reverse all the damage done to it. The machine heeds the call of Foundation Four and reality warps to accommodate my demand upon it. The assorted damage rapidly mends and the wire frame schematic on my HUD bleeds into a reassuring green shade. Sighing with satisfaction, I begin the work of restoring my lost auto pistol. Broken shards of metal and composite begin swirling around my extended armored hand as the weapon begins to rebuild itself. My fingers close in on the familiar grip as the gun takes shape, only marred by a series of swiftly disappearing cracks on its surface.

Then my stomach lurches as my vision spins sickeningly. A sinister cold spreads through my veins.

No.

Not now.

My concentration broken, the auto pistol abruptly shatters into a thousand pieces, and my hand closes in on empty air. I steady myself, fighting back the chill running through my entire body.

I'm running out of serum. My bond to Foundation Four is weakening. I immediately stop repairing my bulwark and cut off the augmented speed, causing teeth chattering cold to immediately recede.

Goose bumps pop up all over my skin as I get my head back into the game. I have plenty of additional serum back at the hideout. The smart move would be to head back to shoot up before continuing the mission. But that wouldn't be the right move. I'm on a tight time limit. Already the Blue Ocean pursuers are pulling ahead of me thanks to my machine's reduced capabilities. The only option available to me is to grit my teeth and press on, regardless of the risk.

I'll just have to play things by ear from this point on.

But there's a small mercy. Sensors indicate that the priestess is no longer moving. That means either Sara has reached her destination, or the priestess intends to stand and fight. Hopefully that woman will survive enough against the Blue Ocean pursuers for me to take the shot. Man, tonight has been way more intense than I had been expecting.

As I fly through the night sky, the sound of sirens echo from below as several rusty looking police vehicles race toward the intersection where the fight between Hiro and Blue Ocean is taking place. I guess it would have been too much to expect Rais Land to sleep through that altercation. Small arms aren't going to do jack against battling bulwarks, but more chaos is always welcome. Means less people looking out for me.

The sensors guide me deeper into Rais Land, away from the rotting and dilapidated outer ring of the city state, and into the refurbished areas. Unlike the dark and dreary outer ring, the inner areas are well maintained, with far more buildings hooked up with electricity, causing the city underneath my flying machine to emit a warm glow. There are already gawkers staring out of their windows, pointing at the trail of bulwarks racing through the skies overhead.

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There goes the chance of making it out unseen. I had originally hoped that after completing the mission there would be time to dismantle the hideout and scrub all traces of my presence away, but it looks like I'll just have to leg it once things have been wrapped up with the presumed Saint. More problematic is the additional wrinkle that has been introduced into the plan. I now can't guarantee that I can reach the hideout without anyone noticing. Rais Land would very easily be able to put a tail on me thanks to the sheer number of witnesses around. If I return to the hideout and shoot up, I might get attacked by police or more likely, Coalition bulwarks before I'm done absorbing the serum.

It never rains, except when it pours, huh?

My heart skips a beat as I begin to catch up with the Blue Ocean operatives again. Or more accurately, they have begun to slow down. From the distance, I can make out the pair of enemy bulwarks begin to descend until they are barely skimming over the buildings beneath them. Taking that as my cue, I drop my altitude as well and do a quick check of my machine's divine energy reserves. It feels unusual, almost unnatural for me to do this, but with the need to conserve the use of my operative abilities, I might actually need to pilot this bulwark for real.

Damn it, I should have paid more attention during training. Or been less flippant when Jas was lecturing me about taking my Auxila piloting seriously. That ridiculous man might have been a traitor, but his body is still Sheryl's host, and quite unfortunately for my current situation, he was right. Too late for regrets though.

The HUD brings up the information I need and the signs are not good, but not really all that bad either. My machine has enough divine energy to fight at normal parameters. With judicious use of my operative abilities, that should be enough to carry me through. What's not so great is that the machine lacks the divine energy to replenish its ammunition or to reforge a replacement for my lost auto pistol. Skirmishers were always rated as low capability machines and never had much endurance in the field. Auxila were never meant to operate for long by themselves. Our deployments were never far from base or a handy transmission station where we could recharge.

So not only am I going to have to budget enough serum for both the mission and the subsequent escape, I can't just spray and pray like I'm used to. Wonderful.

Whomever said going out of your comfort zone is a good thing was full of shit.

I spy a Valkyrie in her bulwark standing on the roof of one of the buildings, brandishing her sword in challenge. Behind her is the presumed Saint, darting into the building's roof access stairwell and disappearing from sight. The Coalition machines deploy their air brakes and skid to a stop, hovering over the building and threatening the Valkyrie with their rifles.

What's so special about this building? Its just some hospital. I was expecting the presumed Saint to flee to a transmission station or a shrine, something that had a connection to the Divines. My second guess would be to a base of the Rais Land militia, not that they could do much to protect the presumed Saint from me or Blue Ocean. But a hospital? That just leaves me flummoxed. There's nothing here that could be of any help to the presumed Saint.

Gunfire erupts from the rifles of the Blue Ocean operatives and the priestess does not miss a beat, parrying the shots with her blade and charging straight at the duo. Sparks fly as Blue Ocean bring their bayonets to bear and already one of the pair has managed to land a solid stab on the Valkyrie's machine. It won't be enough to take that woman out, but she's already hurting from just the first exchange. The Valkyrie knows how to fight, but she's obviously very out of practice. Her movements are rusty and poorly timed while her attacks swing wide, showing that she can't properly lead her targets.

The Valkyrie's not going to last long, I need to hurry.

Firing up my thrusters, I abruptly lunge forward, sailing over the surprised battling trio and quickly dropping into a steep dive. Gritting my teeth, I let my bulwark plow straight into a concrete wall, shattering it into dust and giving me access to the stairwell the presumed Saint ran off into. My sensors lock on to a single moving target several floors below me. That girl can move fast.

But my bulwark is faster.

I plunge straight through the stairwell, tearing through the stairs separating each successive floor and raining masonry down. All the while I keep my eye on the sensor display, monitoring my position relative to the presumed Saint. When I draw level with her position, I engage the jets once more, punching through the wall and emerging on the floor where the beast girl is hiding.

As I emerge from the cloud of dust, my sensors go crazy with multiple contacts, but still manages to maintain its lock on the presumed Saint. As for the other contacts, the reason for their presence is fairly obvious. I'm in a corridor of a ward. All the contacts must be the patients staying in the rooms here. And hiding somewhere is the presumed Saint. What does she intend to do in a place full of sick people?

Who knows. Who cares.

Its going to be over soon for the so called Saint anyway.