Chapter 89: The Cold of Outer Space, the Warm Embrace of Death, Part 11

"There are too many," John muttered, looking through the window. There was resignation in his voice, above all else.

Of course, they had not left unwatched the last fortress of humanity. The only protection of the savior. However futile the gesture might be, the base was surrounded by all the surviving Syndicate agents.

However badly other parts of the world might be, they recognized that the important thing was Sylvester's survival, as always. Upon entering the Syndicate, all agents were forced to acknowledge that they were, essentially, second-class citizens. That the entire organization revolved around Sylvester.

And, recently, also around companions as monstrously powerful as he. In any case, the base was equipped with the best men, traps, and other preparations. The best that the dying humanity was capable of.

Despite the circumstances, that meant a lot. However, there was nothing more than resignation in John's voice. And he had already said why.

They were simply too many. So many that they were impossible to count. So many that, with just one glance, the result of the battle was more than obvious.

Whatever they did to protect the base, they would die uselessly against so many Lunar Remnants. Humans simply were not equipped for such a fight.

Their training prepared them, above all, for isolated incidents. Most Lunar Remnants came one by one, instead of causing a chain reaction as one might expect, with the fear and desperation that a bloodthirsty monster beyond human comprehension would spread.

But the important thing was not the modus operandi, if one could call it that, of those creatures. The important thing is that this was the limit of a normal agent. Even an extraordinary human agent could handle, at most, three or four.

This was how great the difference was in this battle, with thousands and thousands of Lunar Remnants. So many that they completely covered the street. So many that they seemed like a nightmare tide, which would swallow this piece of humanity's corpse without a trace, giving them a premature end.

A click of the tongue.

"Well, the circumstances are as great as always. Some things never change."

There were only five agents around him. In the base, there were many more, of course, but the closest were people he considered friends, almost family.

"This is obviously a job for Sylvester and his little company of monsters, but they are nowhere to be found. So it's up to us. What can we do, huh? We have to sacrifice ourselves, without even knowing if it will serve any purpose."

"But hey, if we stay here with our arms crossed, we're going to die sooner or later anyway. Sooner rather than later, given the current state of things. So come on, guys. Allow me one last dance."

John stomped. Machine guns appeared on the roof, rising from the ground. The six found a fixed machine gun for each of them and pressed the trigger, firing towards the tide.

They were not weapons that could kill the vast majority of Lunar Remnants, but at least they could slow down the tide. And hey, if one fell, even better. A bit of luck had never hurt anyone.

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For a moment, John considered jumping into the middle of that horrific chaos. It would be suicide. Staying up here, simply shooting, was also suicide. Any act that was not turning around and running away like hell was a damn suicide. But, anyway, he was not going to back down. Not at this point.

Even if they were not capable of doing much, at least they should be able to do something. Buy time to fix this mess. To give the world a future, or what was left of it. Although from the beginning it had been like a fragment of the moon, floating in the midst of a dense and impenetrable darkness, illuminated only by the light of stars that had long since died.

John and the others, without a doubt, were willing to fulfill their role as agents. No, as soldiers.

Three dozen Lunar Remnants ran up the facade, heading directly towards them. Anything could appear, and under normal circumstances, it would be an unprecedented crisis. But as things were, they were not even a quarter of the enemy. So they would be fine; they would manage.

The six companions directed their bullets more downward. John abandoned his position because he had an idea.

"Cover me!" he shouted, running, jumping over the edge, beyond the edge, falling with the wind howling in his ears.

It was not that he had grown tired of life, although for him it had been nothing more than one hassle after another. He was not throwing himself into the jaws of those monsters. Even if he wanted to, he would not give up now. He was a warrior; he had always been. He knew no other way of living.

He opened his hood in mid-air, pulling out three bright blue stones from a pocket. He threw them over the enemies, and upon impact they exploded simultaneously, causing havoc. He was quite sure that not a single one of those sons of bitches had died yet, but at least limbs went flying, along with blood of countless colors. They fell from the wall, back to the ground, taking them away from his companions, though not from the base.

Of course, he was very close to the explosion and was not immune. No, he did not explode into a thousand pieces; the force simply propelled him away from the building. But with the rope hook that all organization agents had, he hooked onto a corner of the building, and the force brought him back, returning like a pendulum.

John crashed against the facade with force, gritting his teeth. His head was spinning, exploding. He gritted his teeth even more, biting his tongue. He was full of determination. Yes, John was determined to fight until no more days remained to fight. —— Jonathan was starting to get bored, almost getting used to being unable to do anything for once in his life, when he heard the commotion. Even so, he did not move from his spot. He needed to stay there to keep the portal open. Even with all the foreign information floating in his head, he was not sure he could find the right place again.

So, if he moved, would Sylvester and Aquicosa die? Would they win the fight or not? Jonathan had not completely lost his human heart. He did not care what happened to that monster, but Sylvester was a human being, although his subject. He should not have to die.

Moreover, it was more convenient to fulfill his purpose and receive his reward than to try to take what he needed by force. To begin with, he was not entirely sure how it all worked yet. He had managed to get it, but it had cost him quite a bit. A refresher lesson would do him good, though he would never admit it out loud.

Besides, Sylvester had done almost everything. He had only focused on finding the right place. So he clicked his tongue, thinking: "What the hell is happening now?"

Horrible abominations violently burst into the portal room, tearing through steel as if it were paper. Unique monsters in this world, which locals designated as Lunar Remnants, for reasons that had not been clear to him, and which mattered even less to him. Jonathan sighed.

"Come on already!"

So eager to do something, and now that the opportunity presented itself, he no longer had any desire. But well, this was not doing something, it was taking out the trash at most. Fortunately, he had more than enough skills not to have to get up from his seat to take care of this.

Like bullets being slid into the magazine, phantom swords appeared floating above his head once more.

He prepared to shoot, and it turned out he did not need to. Each and every one of the monsters jumped inside the portal, leaving him in peace. Jonathan undid the swords. He leaned back in his seat. Soon silence enveloped the room again, except for the sound of distant alarms, of course.

"Wow, well, it's no longer my problem."

The Cold of Outer Space, the Warm Embrace of Death, Part 11: END