Don Kuat

Now ...

"Man, shit's gone hardcore." I mutter to myself as peek around the decaying wall of the building I'm hiding behind. In front of me is a thrashed car completely surrounded by Coalition bulwarks. A pair of Citadel machines square off with six of the Coalition pilots, weapons clashing furiously, while the remainder of the Coalition unit hovers above, silently watching the battle.

The fight has already reaped its first casualties. There's a tramp lying unconscious near the wrecked car, a bad turn of luck from trying to score some change. And there's a young woman bleeding profusely from her face, kneeling on the ground, eyes staring blankly ahead. The woman is nursing an injured ear though, so my bet is that she's a member of the Rose search team, taken out in a quick strike by the Coalition pilots. Good move there, lopping the ear off. Full marks.

One of the Citadel bulwarks swings a pair of swords about, fending off several enemy bayonets at once. The Coalition pilots back off and open fire with their rifles, but the dual swords speed up, moving in a blur, deflecting the shots in rapid succession. The Citadel pilot is good. Very good. If it was a fair contest of skill, I wouldn't hesitate to say that she would own me. Easily.

But contests are never fair. Only suckers seek out fair fights after all.

All the Coalition pilots are using Stormers, D rank machines, holding their ground against a pair of easily A grade Valkyries. And that's not all. The Valkyries are slowly but surely being worn down. Smoke rises from the dual wielder's machine as a thin layer of cracks forms from the Stormer onslaught. A perfect parry like the one performed by the dual wielder should have negated all damage. But there is one exception.

The unstoppable modifier.

"Wu," I speak urgently into the com unit, recording a message for him, "Blue Ocean is in Rais Land. Repeat, Blue Ocean is in Rais Land. I count at least twelve of their operatives cornering the Rose search team."

My finger eases off the record button and I continue to watch the fight. As long as I don't transmit using the com unit, it should be safe. But things have taken a turn for the unexpected. Which was why I wanted to record the message now. There might not be time later, and my gut tells me that I'll be called to action soon.

There's a flash of golden light as the second Citadel bulwark swings a massive scythe about, the sheer force from the blow forcing her attackers into retreat. The aura of divine power emanating from this second machine is utterly overwhelming, smothering me with a sense of awe and almost compelling me to get down on my knees in worship. The golden trim of the Citadel machine erupts in a magnificent aura, contrasting handsomely with the bulwark's royal blue colors.

I pull out the monocle snatched from the Red Rose leader that I wasted out in the concrete desert and place the scanner to my eye. Locking on to the royal blue bulwark, I let the device do its work, perusing the read out of the Citadel pilot's power level. I grimace at the information and at this new complication. Its not anything I can't handle, but things are spiraling out of control.

"Wu, there's another problem." I go back to recording on the com unit, "The Roses have a champion of Regina with them. A powerful one as well. She's channeling a titanic amount of divine energy. Might even serve as a speed bump for Blue Ocean."

Between the Blue Ocean operatives, the Rose search team and the bloody divine champion, its pretty much confirmed that the Saint is somewhere in Rais Land. But my current worry is Blue Ocean. How in the world could they deploy so many operatives? Finding suitable hosts is hard. That's why the Directorate could only send a handful of us into the dirac sea.

I had assumed from the assassins originally sent to the Citadel that Blue Ocean was bound by the same bottleneck the Directorate experienced. However if that is not the case, Blue Ocean had effectively changed the rules of the game. Judging on how the fight is progressing, I'm far stronger than these knock off operatives one on one, but getting dog piled by them is a death sentence. As much as I hate to admit it, things might start looking dicey very quickly if I go by the usual modus operandi.

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There's a loud crash and the dual wielder is sent sprawling across the ground by a headlong charge by three of the Blue Ocean operatives, sparks flying from wounds torn into the Citadel bulwark's armor. The Champion swerves hard, intercepting the trio of operatives with a wild swing of her scythe. If the dual wielder was skilled, the Champion relies overwhelmingly on her raw strength. Two of her targets manage to avoid that amateurish swipe of the scythe, but she manages to catch one unlucky pilot right at the waist, effortlessly bisecting the machine in two.

The champion slams the butt of her scythe on to the ground in challenge, as the dual wielder struggles back to her feet. The com unit crackles to life again as someone speaks on the open line. I swat at the controls, barely managing to lower the volume down to a whisper in order to avoid detection.

" - who's next? Got plenty more where that came from." a brash woman's voice. Sounds oddly familiar too. Never mind about that though, there's more important stuff to think about now.

"Number 75, its time to get serious." a smooth, urbane voice responds as the remaining Blue Ocean pilots begin to lower their machines, hovering barely above the ground.

"Serious, yeah right." the Champion snorts, "I'm born to win. I'll always win. Its part of who I am. Keeping trying though."

"Look at this moron, 69." a harsh laugh from someone on the Blue Ocean side, "She thinks she knows everything."

"I'm kicking your asses just fine." the Champion shoots back. The minor damage on her bulwark says otherwise, but I admit she is doing really well, all things considered.

"Do you know why Regina is always victorious?" that educated voice again, must be from operative 69.

"What kind of stupid question is that?" an irascible grumble from the Champion, "I'm going to take you and all your friends out. And there's nothing you can do to stop it."

"Mere bravado. I can sense your voice wavering." 69 calmly responds, "Your machine is damaged. You cannot stand against us for much longer. Buying time for your friends to escape? They don't seem to be doing a very good job of it."

The champion glances at the dual wielder, who in turn looks off to the side. And there in the darkness is a beast girl and a stodgy woman dressed in the robes of a priestess. Standing closer to the Blue Ocean line is another Stormer, this one in Citadel colors. The pilot seems to have given up though, doing nothing other than merely observing the proceedings.

So, four, maybe five people if we include the unconscious hobo that the Citadel side needs to protect. Two of whom have been incapacitated. They sure have their work cut out for them.

"They don't need to escape for me to win." the Champion rebuts hotly, but even I notice the slight hesitation in her speech, "Keep tempting the Divines though."

"I see." 69 replies, almost conversationally, "Did you know before I came here, I had the misfortune of having a very enthusiastic teacher?"

"Huh, what?" the Champion scowls, not following.

"A very, very enthusiastic teacher." 69 continues, but now with an undercurrent of anger, "He really wanted me to learn my lessons, you know?"

"Great. I'm dealing with a delinquent with a chip on his shoulder." the Champion sneers, "Go tell your sob story to someone else."

"The first lesson was this," 69 carries on not paying attention to the Champion's derision, "If I could not do, I would be helped."

69 then lays his rifle to the side, standing weaponless before the Champion.

"The second lesson," 69 elaborates, "If I did not know, I would be taught."

"I bet you were a lousy student." the Champion guffaws, "Bottom of the class, right?"

"Yes, I was. Right at the bottom." 69 confirms, "That's because I refused to learn my lessons. And you know what my teacher said about that?"

"You got a spanking?" I can imagine the Champion rolling her eyes at this exchange.

"Something like that." 69 muses, "My teacher said that if I refused to obey -"

69's entire bulwark disappears in a puff of smoke, swallowed up by a small sphere of roiling darkness. A world setting change, the same exact trick used by the Blue Ocean assassins.

"- I would be forced!" 69 screams with pure hatred.

A lance of pure darkness shoots out of the black sphere and the Champion blocks with the flat of her scythe. Her bulwark lights up with that divine aura, standing firm against the assault.

"Shifting frequency." 69 rasps, "Matching defense matrix. Emulating jamming."

That's it. Its over for the Champion. She can't directly manipulate world settings like an operative can. Meaning she is completely helpless once we decide to stop playing around. There's an earsplitting howl as the scythe blade shatters and in a single instant, the Champion's bulwark loses all power, toppling over like a dead weight.

"Arsenio ..." 75 mutters softly over the open line.

"Never say that name." 69 growls, the sphere of darkness dissipating, revealing his Stormer standing within, "Never ever. Do you understand?"

"Yes, 69." 75 meekly agrees.

"But back to the lesson." 69 says lightly, turning to regard the final Citadel bulwark, "The reason why Regina is always victorious. Its really simple at the end of the day, you know?"

"She just stays on the winning side."