The stampeding mutants picked up pace. John caught sight of the elder, heading off alone. John followed, bringing his team. Bullets and blasts of searing red light zipped around them. He lost track of the elder in the mayhem, but knew where he’d be going.

Some of the mutants tried to fight back. They barely slowed John down.

The ground began to crack and crunch underfoot. Dense, fog like smoke rolling through the burning forest on the wind. The fire cut a strip through the trees and burned further into the woods. Scorched ground and charred wood surrounded him. Bodies consumed in the flames till only blackened bones remained.

John scanned for Jones, knowing he’d be here. His slave army fleeing around him. Something blindsided him, knocking him to the ground and vanishing in the smoke. “On your feet, Ronin.” Sara got him up, the team flanking her.

“Something’s out there. Something smart.” John knew he could have been killed with ease as he lay on the ground. He shut the thought out, staying focused.

“Form up.” Sara barked, getting the team to face outwards.

“Contact.” Styx growled. “Five inbound.”

“Contact. Five inbound.” John saw five mutants advancing, spread out and walking with purpose. They were smarter, bigger, more dangerous. As John watched them he had an idea.

Two rapid paces brought him to a charred tree. A heavy swing cracked the ashen surface. He clamped the mechanised hands into the wood, pushing at the tree. The weakened trunk ripped apart as John let go. It fell, crushing three mutants.

“Two inbound. Engaging.” John edged forward, trying to watch two targets as they split apart.

A body blow threatened to knock the breath from him. Followed up with a cross that rang the armour. John stayed standing, trading blows against something that thought and adapted. Any time he got a window to end one, the other would counter.

He blocked a jab and felt the cross coming. He shifted back, gripping a mechanised hand onto the forearm. He squeezed his grip tight, pulping green flesh and cracking bone. In one motion he turned the mutant, levering its arm behind its back as it wailed. The savage kick meant for him struck the mutant in the chest. It went limp, John pushed it at his attacker. The dead weight took the mutant down. A brutal stomp to the head finished it.

John looked around, and went for the nearest pair of knights. Acheron stuck a mutant in the throat with his trident, Styx took it’s head with his scythe. Adding to the ones already on the ground.

“Which one of you dickless freaks is next?!” Styx roared. Suddenly a mutant bolted out of the smoke. It crashed into Styx, lifting him up before slamming him into a tree then the ground.

“Styx!” Acheron darted for him, not thinking about the threat.

John forced himself to be still, to listen, as he’d been trained. He heard the thumping footfall coming at him. He stepped aside, turning to see the running brute collide with a tree. It shook off the impact, glaring back at him with huge splinters in its face and chest.

The frenzied brute threw itself into an attack without thought. Its speed and ferocity landed blow after blow. It took the advantage and locked its thick arms around his waist.

John could feel the armour give as the brute lifted him off the ground. He struck down with his fists, but that only made the pain worse. He tried driving the splinters further in, all to no avail. The system in his eyes began flashing error after error. He couldn’t see a way out.

In an instant the pain stopped. He fell to his knees, seeing a scythe wielding knight. “Styx!” John said with relief for them both.

“Styx is gone Brother.” Acheron answered, his voice filled with hurt and rage. “It’s up to us now.” He helped John up. John didn’t know what to say.

Ahead of them they saw Sara. Helmet off and dead mutants at her feet. “Lose the lids.” She ordered. “Jones is out here. Playing games.” Sara’s face dropped as she read Acheron’s. “We’re going to end this.”

“Yes sir.” Acheron took point, stomping forward into the dark forest.

“Excalibur and Crixus are sweeping right. We go left and regroup.” Sara looked him in the eye. “Head on a fucking swivel Ronin.”

“Yes sir.” John covered the rear.

Things became quiet in the forest. The crunch of heavy feet on burnt ground. Distant gunfire. The occasional straggler from the fleeing mutants. Elder Maxwell and Crixus appeared a few metres away, beckoning them over.

“Something’s wrong.” John stopped, cold panic he couldn’t place pushing at his weakened resolve. Before he could place what caused it, he heard wood crack. A tree began to fall, right above the elder. John started to run. Crixus reacted faster, shoving the elder out of the way. The tree hit Crixus, knocking him flat.

“Why did you do that?!” The elder reacted with a split second of anger, like he’d been cheated. It faded into a deep sorrow for one of his oldest friends.

“I owed...you a life. The life you...gave me.” Blood pooled around Crixus, a calm look on his face. “It was...a life of honour.” Breath left his body for the last time.

“I see him. Engaging.” Acheron took off running.

“Wait!” Sara yelled. He didn’t stop.

“Push him right, we’ll flank.” John replied as Sara looked back. She gave him a nod.

“Sir, we need to move.” John started walking. The elder didn’t. Still staring down at his dead friend. “Elder Maxwell…” John shoved him, getting a fierce look in return. “We need to move.”

“On you, Ronin.” The elder followed him.

John swept through the trees, senses keen. Or so he thought, until he noticed the elder had given him the slip. Sounds of a fight pulled at him, but he stayed put. It paid off a minute later as he saw a mutant running through the trees.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Jones!” He bellowed, not close enough to be sure. The mutant stopped and looked right at him, betrayed by an all too human reaction. John stomped forward, eager to extract his vengeance. One hammerblow at a time.

Jones flicked his arm and something plinked off John’s chestplate. He didn’t understand, the system didn’t detect a threat. Then the smell hit him, like piss and rotten fruit. A guttural growl from his left stopped him cold. Another sounded to the right, another still in front of him.

Lumbering through the trees came a trio of mutant hounds. Overgrown with muscle, drooling from a fanged mouth. They sniffed at the air then started barking at him. John understood, Jones had marked him.

The hounds bolted, barrelling towards him. John braced for the fear he expected. It didn’t come.

John stepped into a low swing. His warhammer caving in the thick skull of the first hound with a sickening crunch. One hound leapt for his arm, clamping its jaw on tight. The other attached to his leg. The impact and weight knocked him flat. The hounds thrashing, trying to rip him limb from limb.

John started punching the hound on his arm. Steel plate warped as the beast only sank its fangs further in. A final thump broke the hound’s grip as it went limp. He kicked out blindly at the last hound, finding its side but only enraging the beast more.

The armour sounded warnings, leaving him no choice but to eject. John yanked the control sticks back, popping the chestplate loose. He scrambled out and got to his feet. The hound still attacking the leg. John felt exposed, the mutated beast now a far greater threat. Still he felt no fear.

“Hey!” John called out, clapping his hands. “Over here you dumb mutt.” The hound glared at him, and started running. John stood his ground. The beast picked up speed, barking as its jaws clacked. John didn’t move.

The hound drew within feet of him, leaping right at his face. John threw himself aside, revealing the broken and sharp branch. The hound impaled itself. The pointed branch driven through the open mouth and top of its skull.

John picked up his warhammer. The weight just about manageable. He heard fighting and got moving. A few metres ahead he caught sight of the elder, locked in battle with Jones.

Sparks flew off the crude armour as Jones blocked sword strikes. The elder kept up a punishing onslaught of blows. Each taken in stride by Jones.

The elder made space, readying a lunge. Jones closed the gap, striking out with a kick. Elder Maxwell staggered back, spitting blood from his mouth but stayed standing. Jones lashed out with a length of chain, wrapping tight around the elder’s sword arm. Excalibur fell from his grasp, sticking in the ground as the chain tightened. Jones used his strength to yank the chain, colliding into the elder at the same time.

The elder screamed, his arm ripped from his body. Jones slammed him down, pinning the elder in place with his foot. “Beg.” Jones pressed his weight down, making blood ooze from the damaged power armour. “Beg for Amb—” Jones tumbled to the side, struck by John’s warhammer.

Throwing the warhammer had been a desperate move. It bought the elder a chance, leaving John with his knife and pistol. Jones got to his feet, picking out John as he advanced.

"You killed friends of mine.” John snarled, a rage that wasn’t entirely his catching light. “That will not go unanswered.” He glared up at the beady yellow eyes, seeing the mind behind them.

“I’m owed blood for what he did!” Jones shouted back, his frustration building, John saw the elder move, and tried to keep Jones focused on him.

“What he did?!” John threw the hypocrisy back at him. “You’re thousands of times worse than him. And if you believe in blood for blood, there’s someone you owe a great deal to.” John planted his feet, slid back the slide on his rose carved pistol and gripped his knife tight. “Don’t worry, she’ll be here soon.”

Jones turned, seeing the elder had gone. He glared at John and roared. John roared back and opened fire.

Bullets struck green flesh. John dodged a wild swing, putting a point blank round into Jones’ knee. John skimmed across the dreamlike state, dipping in and out like Rosie taught him. He stabbed and slashed at green flesh, cutting at the straps of the crude armour.

Plates began to fall away, exposing more places to attack. And making Jones faster. John put a double tap through Jones’ wrist, inflicting real pain. Worsened as the flesh healed around jagged lumps of lead.

John used the moment as Jones recoiled. He stabbed at mutant’s in the side, wrenching the knife up. Jones responded with a backhand that sent him tumbling to the ground. He lay there, dazed and defenceless.

He felt pounding drawing closer, then pain as Jones grabbed him. John kicked and punched as Jones lifted him up. The pounding drew nearer, but Jones wasn’t moving. He kicked harder, not to free himself, but to knock the crude armour away.

“Blood for blood.” Jones grunted through his rictus grin, too angry to see what John did.

Sara bolted through the forest, driving the armour like a freight train. She took up her father’s sword. She turned into an upwards strike that severed the arm choking the life from John.

Jones wailed, the same way his kind had been wailing for hours. Sara held the sword flat and stepped into a strike. She drove the blade into the gap John made, skewering through Jones’ flank and out the other side.

Sara tried to pull back, but Jones grabbed the hilt. He pulled the blade deeper into his flesh and grabbed her. “Wait your turn.” Jones threw her down with a metallic thunk.

“Looks like your…” Jones turned back to him, struggling to speak. John saw the pain weaken the man and empower the monster. “Looks like your friend...isn’t going to collect.” He seemed desperate to speak, to hold the beast at bay.

John shifted round, turning Jones and getting him to lumber half a pace forward. “I didn’t mean her.” He knew this was it.

The air cracked like thunder. Ash and smoke kicked up in her wake. Rosie sprinted and leapt from the ground. A black dagger in each hand. She sunk the first one in at the neck, using it for balance. Rosie took Brandon’s dagger and pierced the yellow eye, twisting the knife before it left her grasp.

Shrill screaming and thrashing sent her flying. She twisted in the air, landing in a crouch and skidding backwards.

Jones lashed out with his one remaining arm. John weaved and dodged the clumsy blows, looking into the yellow eye. He saw only the monster.

One final clumsy swing brought John close enough. He reached for the handle of the sword and pulled it across before withdrawing. Entrails spilled out as Jones fell to his knees.

Rosie appeared, helping a limping Sara. John handed Sara her father’s sword. She gave him his warhammer. Rosie flitted back and forth, retrieving her daggers.

In one motion, John struck the top of Jones head with the spike of his hammer. Sara took his head off with a single stroke. Rosie stared into his eye the whole time.

“My sword!” The elder called out, staggering and bleeding out.

“Dad!” Sara ran to him, letting the sword drop. John picked it up and followed.

The elder collapsed before she got to him. “Medic!” She screamed out of instinct. John looked to Rosie. She shook her head. “Medic!”

“Sara, it’s too late for that.” The elder looked pale. He knew he didn’t have long.

“We got him Dad. Cut off his head.” Sara’s words brought immense relief.

“Do you remember…” He fumbled at his pocket. Sara opened it, pulling out the photograph from her father’s desk. “You called… me Dad for the… first time.” She saw him smile. “Sara, live for yourself now. Not me or Bran. I love you. Please, go now, go.”

“I love you Dad.” Sara made it a single step before stumbling. Rosie came to her side, keeping her moving.

John knelt, putting the sword in the elder’s hand. He held it tight. “Ronin.” He used the name he’d given him. “It’s right that it is you. Give me a soldier’s death, let me regain some honour.”

John found the last Sentinel steel bullet, holding it so the elder could see. He nodded. John dropped it into the breach and snapped the slide forward.

“Ad victoriam, Elder Maxwell.”

“Ad victoriam.” John fired.

He caught up with Rosie and a distraught Sara. They walked without speaking for a while, then Sara stopped. She forced strength into her voice, and spoke into the radio. “All callsigns, this is Tempest...Actual. Big finish, repeat, big finish.” She gave the code phrase and looked to Rosie. “Hit it.”

Rosie went to the trouble of actually pressing a button to start the timer. “No.” Her eyes began darting rapidly. “The link’s dead, I can’t arm it.”