Not wanting to make the same mistake twice, Barbara decided to start the second round with a blast. Steel goliath rumbled, as plumes of black smoke started to flow from its back and legs, causing spectators to scatter from behind her, cursing as they went. With a deafening sound of a jet engine Pollux flew forward, terrifying spectators and catching her opponent off-guard.
Something that massive, moving so suddenly at an incredible pace wasn’t what young Chrysos expected, despite himself being an anomaly in that department. His instincts told him to duck and slide under the machine’s legs…
Unfortunately he knew his role and such behavior just wouldn’t fly. So he rushed towards the danger head-first, forgoing any notion of self-preservation.
At least that’s what he wanted the spectators and his opponent to think.
Pollux swung its minigun-toting for a devastating haymaker, hitting its target successfully. Giant, five-digit fist slammed the running regenerator in its shoulder, making it jerk to the side from the impact. Bright-red blood splattered the soil and mech’s chassis, not wanting to waste the advantage Barbara raised the other arm, ready to follow-up the succesful strike. With a powerful counter Argonaut dashed that plan slamming the front of the machine with a double-handed hammer-strike of his own. Despite the size difference he managed to push Pollux a step back, garnering a wave of surprise from the crowd.
In an instant both fighters adjusted, running through their minds every available option at hand.
After just a single counter Prusk understood why Argonaut closed in instead of dodging, he was curbing her strikes, decreasing the distance mechanical fists could travel, limiting their acceleration and in turn power.
“That’s not how a weapon acts” - Barb commented, looking at the world presented by Polluxe’s cameras in slow motion. - “Weapons do not learn and adapt this quickly… fucking knew it. The old fart has been holding out on me”.
Not fully aware how much her IQ skyrockets during combat she continued to reach even further conclusions without any outside input.
“Those two always acted sus when outside of ear’s reach. So I guess it’s time for real introductions!”
She pulled the left joystick back, twisted in her anti-g-force seat, pulled the right joystick to the side and tensed muscles in both legs which were hidden in a coffin-like apparatus.
Pollux took a wide swing with its left arm, turned at the connecting point between the upper and lower halves of its body, moved the right arm to the side, as if lifting some invisible shield, then took a single step backwards.
This overaggerated motion got answered with the similar one by Argonaut, making the living weapon look like a smaller mirror image of the steel behemoth.
- Suka blyat! Here it comes! - a man with a strong russian accent screamed from the crowd. - The classic!
As if on his command two sources of unstoppable force swung with all their might.
- Hello Argonaut! My name is Barbara Prusk! Nice to meet you!
The weird comment that escaped the crackling intercom should have raised a few eyebrows, but no man nor woman had a chance to process these words as they were followed by an explosion of pressurized air and downpour of blood.
With this amount of force everywhere was a splash zone.
Some screamed, some reeled back, but all were equally astonished. Firstly by the clash itself, secondly by its aftermath.
Both opponents stood resolute, connected with their fists in a contest of might. Both were slightly fidgeting but neither budged an inch. Blood now caked both contestants from head to toe, even though the regenerator's hand seemed undamaged. Which struck fear and doubt into many who were watching.
The stalemate didn’t last long, as the beast was the first to break it, or rather its arm that for a split second turned into a fine red mist. Due to the lack of force pushing against the overwhelming weight of the battle suit, Pollux started falling forwards, accompanied by a lament of its servos..
Regenerator utilized that moment with impunity.
Argonaut swung its leg backwards, and like a pendulum swung it forwards, almost above its head, hitting the machine in free-fall. Utilizing the rules of physics against it the force of the hit was massive, throwing Pollux on its side at the cost of Argonauts foot.
Rocking back and forth inside the cockpit, thankfully secured by safety belts, Barbara didn’t notice the moment in which her opponent turned “the work of her life” belly-up. She could only watch with a grimace as a gilded skull, caked in blood, yet without a single wound, sat on top of her machine. It roared and then proceeded to pummel the cockpit, first hits were slow, but with each consecutive one their speed proceeded to ramp up, finally reaching the point in which every hit mangled her opponent’s hands.
Not like the creature had to worry about such a small inconvenience, its fists were back to normal by the time they fell on the steel carapace. This wasn’t looking good. Artifacts were starting to appear on Pollux's digital display and the leather upholstery surrounding here began bulging at points.
“Okay, shit, you’re actually pretty good Argie” - Prusk thought, wiping the sweat running down her brow like a waterfall. - “Guess the old fart wasn’t lying about that part.”
Even if she had spare frontal chassis in her sister’s truck, she wasn’t thrilled about spending the time left before their departure on replacing Polluxe’s damaged parts. Looking at the options available to her, in this disadvantageous position she couldn’t do squat to stop the one-sided wallop Argonaut was subjecting her poor machine to.
At the very least with weapons she used up to this point.
Despite not feeling too good about admitting that in front of herself the biological weapon used by the “Empie’s” in the old war equaled Pollux in the strength department and dwarfed him in the area of mobility and adaptability. It could easily run circles around the mechanized battle suit up close. Closing off its capabilities one by one.
First the melee string range by closing the distance. Then the thrusters by toppling the bucket-of-bolts over.
“Sorry Argie, but I can’t let you damage my property any further” - she wasn’t a big fan of what she was about to do, but it was a necessity. - “No hard feelings, kay?”
Ignoring the banging and blinking screens, Barbara reached for a small black casket, sticking out near the left joystick. Lifted it up revealing what hid underneath - it was a key, permanently welded into an ignition lock. She grabbed it and turned it counter-clockwise.
- Left-hand engine powering up. - the synthesized voice of on-board AI announced. - 3… 2… 1, “N. A. 17” ready.
- I hope you know how to clench your teeth, big guy.
With a vague statement Pollux raised its left arm in the instance where both arms of the regenerator weren’t beside its body.
Then it placed it against opponent’s ribs and-
A flash of light and an ear-piercing sound filled the quarry. Every single person gathered, with few exceptions, covered their ears in a delayed reaction to the assault on their hearing. They started to scream at whoever was responsible for this in upset, but Dirk wasn’t one of them. During the whole battle he didn’t take his eyes off Barbara's contraption for an instance and it paid off.
He now knew the secret of Polluxe’s left arm.
The machine in question slowly rose to its feet, the regenerator that sat at its chassis now inexplicably missing. The audience's upset quickly switched to bewilderment due to unexplainable disappearing acts taking place before their eyes.
Ignoring their questions and wild debates, Barbara simply turned towards Chernobog. With a loud click thick clouds of steam erupted from the crevices within the mechanized chassis. Its heavily dented front lazily raised upwards, revealing the cockpit hidden underneath. There sat Barbara Prusk, breathing heavily, covered by a green hue of digital displays.
Taking a lungful of cold, night air she could taste iron on her tongue. With an exhale she ran a hand through her hair, now ruffled beyond recognition.
- Guess it’s my win, Chernobog. - she declared,visibly and audibly tired. - You can look for your pet a few hundred meters away from here, somewhere in the forest to the east, beyond the edge of the quarry. Sorry ‘bout that.
The other mercenary opened his mouth, but an eruption of cheers from the spectators prevented him from speaking. The fight was over and so it was time to reap the spoils. Everyone who partook in the gambling got busy and those that didn’t either went their own way or started converging on the soaking-wet victor of the grueling combat.
With a hiss and another wave of steam, the mech powered down for good, its individual elements moving in unison with mechanical whirs before dying down. As the gust of fresh air hit Barbara’s face once more, she sighed in relief, just now truly remembering how hot the inside of her mech could get at times, especially when she hyperfocused on combat.
Not yet leaving the machine’s interior, she wiped her face, now covered in sweat, and scanned the crowd as the commotion subsided from her vantage point, looking for the one person whose reaction she was interested in. It took a second, but she found Chernobog way off by the metaphorical rafters, way farther than he was mere seconds ago, just at the edge of the lit up area.
A slight grimace entered her face. Where she was expecting an image of utter defeat, or perhaps a look of frustration infused with defiance and readiness for a rematch, she found none of that. Chernobog’s expression was, simply put, unreadable.
So neutral and cold, that it was subtly bordering on contemptuous.
If he was going to say anything just moments ago, now he obviously wasn’t going to bother.
She got the impression that he wasn’t even really looking at her, but almost right through and past her, her presence a mere distraction to him, in a way.
That was no bother, though. What really rubbed her the wrong way was the fact that there was not even an inkling of worry on his face.
His companion just got launched into space, and he didn’t care.
Barbara grumbled, struggling to process everything. She saw what Argonaut was capable of. There was more to him than met the eye. More than the two of them presented.
The mech pilot was sure of it.
It bothered her, now that she was sure of it. It bothered her that she was the only one worried about the big guy, even if she won not by knockout, but a glorified ring out.
She was irked so much by it, in fact, that she was ready to jump down and make a fuss about it right to his face, but the crowd intercepted her the moment her feet touched down on the ground, sweeping her into a storm of cheers and jeers. Try as she might, she could only call out to the old man as she watched him disappear into the darkness.
Meanwhile, Dirk was lost deep in thought as his legs led him out of the encampment.
He was thinking about the mechanized suit, about the fight, and about Jason.
He clicked his tongue, finally letting himself feel some frustration.
The suit was impressive, that was for certain. Even he had to admit it…
But there was also so much wrong with the fight. Jason could have won easily, if only he made slight adjustments. If only he was a bit more careful. If only Dirk gave him a few directions.
The old man shook his head, miffed, but not defeated. It was good that it went as it did. It showcased the Argonaut’s feral nature nicely. And yet, Dirk could not rid himself of this feeling of inadequacy. Like he failed Jason in some way, and thus, by extension, himself.
Was he always like that? No. He didn’t think he was, back in his Avatar days…
A sudden knot in his stomach stopped his train of thought, and Dirk realized just how far out he’d gone from the gathering spot. He did have a flashlight handy, thankfully, but the true darkness that held grasp on the ruined Russia at night was a truly terrifying thing.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
With most cities either completely razed or damaged beyond recognition, save for a bunch of central hubs sprinkled throughout the northern Asian continent, there was very little light pollution anywhere just kilometers from the nearest Spire.
And in all that darkness, Dirk just felt that he was being observed.
In a blink of an eye there was a gun in his hand, and before he could even think about it, his body shifted into a combat stance. With the hand gripping the flashlight, he propped up his gun for stability and froze in place. He would not see whatever was keeping an eye on him before it pounced, but he could hear it.
Still as a rock, he strained his ears, waiting for the slightest disturbance. He would need to be quick if he was to stand any chance of survival. He heard the howl of the wind and a distant choir of laughter, his own heart playing percussion to this melody of life and death.
But there was nothing. The enemy, whoever, or whatever it was, was not making a mistake. Not even a twitch of a single muscle was out of place.
And then he heard it.
A single scratch on the nearby tree.
Like an overstrained rope he snapped back and took aim in a moment that felt like an eternity, yet lasted no more than a tenth of a second.
He could feel his finger pull on the trigger as his eyes searched for the target slower than his body acted.
Then he saw it and could barely stop that chain reaction of his trained body from firing off, the only inhibiting force to work against pure habit being his force of will.
He fired, just barely missing. But that was good.
The bullet struck the tree bark right beside the tiny, glistening speck on its surface, and the thing, the source of Dirk’s unease, flew off with incredible speed.
- Aren’t we both a little too old to pull pranks on each other? - Dirk said through grit teeth, feeling both shame and annoyance just thinking about what transpired.
As if on cue, the little metallic speck zipped back from the abyssal darkness and landed on the tip of Dirk’s Makarov. Then, it spoke.
- From my point of view, not much changes with age. Our toys just become more expensive, old friend.
“Maybe from your point of view, you weasel” - Dirk thought, putting an index finger of his right hand near the gun barrel, to roll the small speck onto it.
Once that was done he holstered the weapon and continued looking around.
- Good to hear you “Bug Commander”, but you caught me at a bad time. - his walkabout at this point was aimless. Still, maybe with enough perseverance he’d find some clues.
- No need for codenames. - the speck spoke once more. - I am jamming the whole forest and I already found Jason, he’s 654 meters North-West from your current position.
- Dammit, Marcus, you’re taking all the fun away from me.
- My bad, I forgot about your midnight walks in the middle of nowhere. - the sentient spot on the veteran’s finger laughed. - We need to meet more often, or I might just forget how your face looks.
- Do forget, if you could. It would certainly help my fugitive status. My bad, I meant “a person of heightened interest”. - with these words, Dirk started moving towards the provided coordinates.
- Now, it's not that bad…
Without a sound, a cloud of pure blackness started coiling around Dirk, like a swarm of insects. They coiled around him, betraying their nature as a singular entity, before slamming into the forest floor. At the same time as the speck from the veteran's finger disappeared, the formless mass started rising, taking shape.
- At the very least, you are able to fool around as a gun for hire. - the voice came from a construct, solidified from the black swarm.
Its height was similar to Dirk’s, but the clothes it wore were outdated, to put it lightly.
- A “Landsknecht”, really?
- They did have simply splendid brimmed hats and those breeches. - the construct said, while flaunting a large feather sticking out from the headwear. - Unfortunately, “Hive’s” monochromatic nature ruins the multicolored style of the whole outfit.
Dirk simply shook his head while chuckling.
“No matter how much time passes, Marcus never changes” - he already forgot about the doubts filling his heart not long ago. - “The most eccentric old fart you can find, after hours”.
- I assume there is no need for me to bring you up to speed when it comes to my situation? - Chernobog said in a strained voice, climbing up a pretty steep slope.
- Of course not, unless you need to talk to someone. - Heavenly General’s avatar floated beside him, avoiding the inconvenience of terrain altogether.
- Good one. - the old man smirked, reaching the higher ground. - But I am pretty sure your last name isn’t “Daniels”.
- Still drinking that mouth-wash? - the construct extended its hand towards the kneeling soldier.
- Not everyone likes to ponder the secrets of the universe while sipping fermented grape juice.
Chernobog accepted its help and got lifted up by a cloud of nanobots. It never ceased to amaze him how much weight those little greebles could support when combined. The successor of Dr. Chrysos was no slouch when it came to mechanical innovation.
- You should try it from time to time, old friend. - the mustached visage of the Hive cloud smiled warmly. - Those who live slower tend to live longer.
- Then how are you still alive?
- You cheeky-
The nano-machine construct swatted Dirk upside the head, ruining the ponytail on which Barbara worked so meticulously. Thankfully, the member of the Scout Squad preferred it this way, his scalp felt much more comfortable. Besides, for a blissful while he was no longer “Mercenary Chernobog” there was no need to act and pose in front of the crowd.
But simply Dirk, a washed-up Empire Special Forces Officer, talking with a good friend that was still stuck in their line of work. Continuing their small-talk, safe from interruptions and any eavesdroppers, he didn’t even notice when he started smiling.
- You needed a little breather from the suffocating posh of Central? - Chernobog asked, finally letting curiosity get the better of him.
- Not really. With the way Ajax throws his weight around the place, my workload is steadily decreasing. - the black avatar knotted both hands behind its head.
- Isn’t that bad?
- If it was, I wouldn’t be floating here, discussing it with you, now, would I?
- Fair point.
- The things young Daunt tries to directly control are surface level. - without being asked, he began to elaborate. - If he wants to move me away from the table, I am okay with that. He wants to be my stand-in at an official meeting? Fair enough. But there is a limit to which his youthful vigor, burning patriotism and visions of grandeur will carry him. - the construct smirked. - Thankfully, he is smart enough to know that. So he doesn’t even try to upstage me as a Chief Intelligence Officer. The upstart’s already burning the candle on both ends.
- That’s a relief. Losing an early warning system like you would impact my holiday plans in a major way. Wouldn’t want to cancel them.
- On that note…
That wasn’t what Dirk wanted to hear.
With the smile gone, he stopped and turned towards the humanoid construct, now steadily planted on the forest bedding. Dirk really hoped the light-hearted tone could have lasted until they reached Jason’s crash-site, but Fortune seemed to have had other plans.
- Is it that bad? - Chernobog asked.
- You might want to take a seat. - Marcus’s tone now reminded him of the days during the “Red Rebellion”.
The cold and calculating Heavenly General Cicada finally reared his head.
- My joints aren’t that atrophied. - the joke was poor, but it was a simple buffer, to give Dirk time to switch back into “Mercenary Chernobog”.
- Then I’ll get to the point. Hyena is on your ass, the Fenrir’s already mobilized and at 0200 two squads will be leaving central.
The news were more than terrible.
- At 0430 two more will depart. I did my best to stall them with supply line issues and the recent charity ball with Kintsugi Union representatives. Unfortunately, to not much avail.
- Do you know anything about their ordinance?
- Negative. He keeps it behind closed doors, even my insider couldn’t give me much.
“Marcus has an insider in Ajax’s troupe?” - it was quite a surprising tid-bit of information for Dirk, but it wasn’t as important as some other questions at the moment.
- Any RoE limitations or collateral restrictions?
- Negative. He really wants you out of the picture now.
- Is there some reason for it? - the old dog couldn’t believe someone would simply jump at his throat the moment the opportunity presented itself. - Some political move in the recent future?
- Negative. Best I could surmise is that you must have really crossed him all those years ago.
- You gotta be fucking kidding me.
- Wish I was, old friend.
This exchange filled him with way too much information for his liking. At the worst of moments, too. Finding Jason should have been his priority, then depositing all those bags he carried on himself to their truck.
But instead he now had to come up with some idea to survive the upcoming days on the frozen tundra, not only watching out for his cutthroat teammates and rabid fauna, but now also a suppressed bullet cutting through the darkness.
- I am sorry that I couldn’t bring any good news with me. - Marcus sounded slightly remorseful. - We should have never accepted that upstart into our midst.
- You’re talking like there was any choice to be made. - Dirk forcefully smiled. - A single person above us made a decree, and we simply obeyed.
- Ultimatums are no way to lead.
- You’re barking at the wrong tree with platitudes like that, old friend. - Dirk hated saying that aloud, but it was the truth. - I was always a simple soldier. Politics were way above my pay grade. But with many more growth-rings in my stump than back then… I could have done better.
Uncomfortable silence fell around them.
Which lasted until the nano-construct placed its cold hand on his shoulder.
- That goes for the both of us. - There was a faint note of melancholy in his voice, masked by a thick layer of practiced professionalism.
The phantom let go of Dirk and turned around to look towards the sky just as the clouds parted to reveal a patch of a starry firmament. It lasted just a moment, then faded.
- I have to go. I have my fingers in too many pies. Keep an eye out for my drones. I might be able to smuggle a piece of information or two for you.
The humanoid form started to fall apart in small convulsions, but before it could lose its shape entirely Dirk interrupted it with a raised hand.
- Now, just one thing.
- Yes? What is it? - the technological ghost cocked an eyebrow.
- I know I joked about you being my early warning system, but why? Why bother to warn me? - deep inside, Dirk knew not to look a gift horse in the mouth, and yet something gnawed at his mind. A hunch, perhaps, or plain curiosity. He couldn’t tell. - It’s been years since our last meeting, and that one certainly wasn’t the prettiest.
- Do I need a reason to warn a friend of impending doom? And years? Those fly by like days when you’re my age. Besides, I’m a bureaucrat at heart. I’ve seen matters take decades to complete. What are a few years?
- Ajax might be a psychotic zealot and an upstart, but he’s still a Heavenly General, just like you. By interfering with his operations without the Emperor’s consent, you are breaking one of the ‘Three Sacred Rules’.
- These have become mere suggestions years ago. - Marcus looked dejected over his own statement, but refused to elaborate any further.
- You are going to get into a lot of trouble.
- Only if I misplay my hand. - he rubbed his forehead in thought, then looked Dirk in the eyes, his face painting a picture of a stern, but fair elder. - If nothing else, this country has a debt to you, one bigger than you could ever imagine, and I’m not going to let it go unpaid. I’ve had my hand in many misdeeds at the Emperor’s command, but letting a friend die… - he paused, his face somehow at the same time conflicted and resolute.
The silence bore down on the two men as they both composed themselves.
- I really need to go. - Marcus conceded first. - There’s a country that needs a babysitter. I wish you luck, but hope you won’t need it.
- Don’t worry, I make my own luck. - Dirk shot back, not hiding his swelling pride as the black mass lost its form and like a glob of brackish water became one with the all-encompassing darkness.
Dirk sighed, feeling a knot forming in the pit of his stomach. Was he stressed?
Did the news really just hit him, or was he holding back his own feelings so as not to embarrass himself in front of a friend? Maybe a little bit of both.
His hands were shaking.
“What a sorry sight” - the old man thought.
Without a moment of hesitation he slammed his fist against a nearby tree.
Bark dug into his skin, the sting of pain, amplified by the cool breath of the night air, pulled him out of the quickly spiraling mood.
He wasn’t a child anymore. The luxury of fear, doubt, or such pathetic behavior, has been taken away from him the moment he took his first officer insignia.
An enemy was coming for him at full force, there was no other choice but to meet them head on.
He had to be ready.
Invaluable information that Marcous brough him, completely negated Ajax’s greatest trump card - the element of surprise. That should be enough to level the playing field a little, still, it was no time to be complacent.
The young Heavenly General still held more pawns than the old dog could ever muster.
Outnumbered, outgunned and surrounded with people he could not rely on…
Dirk chuckled.
He wasn’t a fresh recruit, but this sure made him feel like one.
How many years, maybe even decades, has it been since he was on the back leg? Since he had to improvise and strategise to have any hope of seeing another sun-rise?
Too many to count.
But it was sink or swim, and he was never one to let others shove his head under the water’s surface.
With nothing left for him within The Empire, he’d struggle until the bitter end. Too many people were watching his back in their own ways. He would not let their support go to waste.
Speaking of, he turned towards the direction Marcus had shown him, ready to meet the likely frustrated Jason. The young lad might not have shown it, but he really wanted to win that scrap with Barbara.
Chrysos Jr had a competitive side to him, that he for some reason tried to to the best of his abilities. With miserable results.
Dirk smiled at the thought, his mind already formulating some sage battle advice. Next time they wouldn’t lose.
“The God of War” would make sure of that.