“6:43 AM, July 13th, 20XX, an, as of yet, unknown object lands hard in the middle of the middle of an intersection in the northern Kadian region town of Frigateville. MWOS and NASA observers were unable to track the object, even when it entered atmosphere in direct line of sight of the MWOS Site 5 in the mountains north of the town. But the security cameras on site caught a few snippets of what occurred.”

The slide changed to a video, old security camera footage, blurry and possibly corrupted. A streak of light slamming down into the forested town far below the camera’s designated sweep angle.

“The impact was anomalous, its projected velocity was something close to 80 kilometers per second, but it didn’t level the entire area and set off Richter scales all across the globe. When we found it after the fact, it had just embedded itself into the ground, leaving a fairly contained crater that took up the intersection.”

The footage continued on with only the smoke plume rising over the town.

“But the real issue came at 6:48, just 5 minutes later. The footage couldn’t catch it all, but as you can see…”

Flashes and illuminations spread out from the smoking pillar.

“The footage caught something happening.”

The footage finally cut off as a massive flare erupted from the center of town. The desperately suppressed terror locking Seth to those images subsiding as it turned to static without revealing too much.

“This was the earliest footage we have of the Laceroid Crisis. We still don’t know fully what happened to the town, expeditions to the site were hampered by the spreading wildfires ignited during the fighting. What little we could find offered even less than the footage.”

Equally suppressed relief washed over him, dimmed the heartbeat filling his ears. He never even contemplated all the empty cans and cereal boxes he left back in town, let alone his mattress fort. Or even the whole mess that was his old house.

“All that we do know is that, around 7:06 AM, these things came tearing through the town of Brighton.”

The slide flipped, and Seth’s relief was obliterated. A soldier's helmet cam footage. A defensive line… The one he passed leaving Brighton. It shook violently as the line opened up, tanks and machineguns rattling everything, beams and powers crisscrossing the tracers, but all of it silent. The camera not recording audio, or it was muted. But all that fire was worthless as that wave laceroids poured out of the still burning town. Black dust clouds splattering down range, bodies almost evaporating in the withering fire and smoke. But still… they kept coming. The soldier wearing the camera realizing the futility, other soldiers beside him showing that same fear for all to see. They retreated, but the tanks flanking them were torn open like cans. They ran, but his fellow soldiers were nothing more than splatters of blood at the edges of the frame. They routed, crowds of soldiers trying to cling to a truck full of civilians desperate to flee the same. Only to have missiles of claws and scales tear through them. He stumbled, the only sound left the hushed gasps of those too empathetic enough to restrain themselves. A monster towered over him, covered in blood like it had rained from the sky. But its unmerciful speed was refuted by a blur of blue and distorted air, and the ground suddenly flew away. The soldier looked up, a cap and old style suit all that could get into frame. They were saved, but they looked back down. And could see nothing of the defense they once manned. Nothing but clouds of kicked dust… and the blood splattering amidst the moving ground.

The footage stopped on that image, and Seth’s heart was in his throat. He could barely breathe straight, but he wasn’t the only one affected. Though really no one should be prepared for people dying like that.

“This was the only surviving footage we have from First Contact. And this is the best we can muster as to what these things really were.”

The slide changed with an errant gasp, but tensions calmed. Eventually. It was an artist rendition and statistic sheet on a standard laceroid. Instead of the burned and battered scales Seth remembered, this had grey clean ones. The claws and teeth were clean of the caked in dust, but its eyes were the same red hue, save for the green irises.

“Their average height was between 6 and 10 feet tall. Average weight could only be guessed at, but was estimated to be around 300 to 500 pounds. And that’s not fat either, that was muscle pure and simple. The force behind their attacks was measured to be in excess of 600,000 N. That’s a truck slamming into you at 60 miles an hour with every swing. Their claws and teeth were their primary weapons, to say they were like honed metal blades is understating it. But that was only half the issues with fighting these things. Each laceroid contained between 30 and 50 megajoules of stored energy. The what, how, and why they have it are still under deep discussion. What we know is that the energy was used to fuel exceedingly fast cellular regrowth, including skeletal structures and even grey matter. How this was done without lighting themselves on fire from the sheer exertion is also up for debate. Yet in spite of this all together alien exterior, and admittedly the only saving grace in this horrific package deal, the one consensus we have is that their base was human.”

A collective sense of unease resounded among some of the trainees. This news wasn’t very public, but it was known about.

“From what analysis we were able to do during the fighting, and from what reconnaissance we had of their spread, we know that these things all came from Frigateville. And their numbers, the ones we could put together anyway, lined up a little too well with the town’s population. Around 50,000 of these things killed hundreds of thousands of people. Still this isn’t a direct causation, only numerical correlation, but with the evidence we have now it’s the accepted story. But back to that weakness.”

“Since they used to be human, they still had a human mental signature, brain waves and such. I don’t know, I’m not a neuroscientist. This human side of their brains meant they had human emotions, which was corroborated by a large number of firsthand accounts. Looks of desperation, uncontrollable crying, a few instances of fucking laughter. These emotions prevented the laceroids from fighting indefinitely, most fleeing when pain or fear were introduced in intolerable amounts. But those tolerances were high.”

Slide change, a picture of the blood stained road out of Frigateville, complete with those same cars that Seth could hardly stop himself from remembering at this point.

“Their appetites, on the other hand, were something else entirely. Every living breathing thing, people, animals, insects, birds, even the fucking worms in the damn soil. They ate everything barring the plants and the trees beyond the wall. The bodies of the dead were just gone, nothing but blood stains left on hard surfaces. We still don’t know the full casualty numbers. And in that same vein, we still don’t know the exact number of laceroids there were.”

“This is because when a laceroid is injured it uses some of that stored energy to heal. A few instances of extra accelerated healing after… feeding… means that their hunger wasn’t just for show either. But in the end they had a finite amount of energy to use. Once that energy was used up something weird occurred. Their molecular structure broke down, causing them to burst from the relieved density of their bodies rapidly decomposing and denaturing. What was left was nothing but desiccated flesh and dust, the matter and molecules that made them up broken apart. Theories abound, but the predominant one is that the energy kept them together, like they were some horrifying energy homunculi. Whatever it was, it left nothing to study and nothing to count. Just a hell of a lot of poisoned earth.”

The slide finally flipped, this time a brochure photo of Brighton.

“The first town hit and subsequently the area of greatest casualty. As I said, at around 7:06 AM the laceroids swarmed into Brighton. Smashing through walls, demolishing whole buildings, igniting fuel stations and gas mains. All in pursuit of food. The first news of the crisis came from the Brighton PD morning dispatcher, Martha Laurie. She heard the cries and screams of her officers over the radio and called it in, staying at her post to relay what she could see through her window. Until it was too late. The first units to investigate her calls were flyers that just happened to be in the area, Aurora Alice and Tunguska. Some kind of early morning date they had planned. They made it to the scene in minutes, but they tried to help a group of fleeing civilians. They were dead before they even understood what they were fighting. But their radios caught everything, and a full response was called in.”

“The Fort Terrace military base was the closest available muster point, and a good number of the base’s families lived in Brighton, so the League’s first response was augmented with a few platoons of National Guard, armored cavalry, and tanks. The army was set up outside of town by 5:00 AM the next day, and was already getting swarmed with civilian refugees. Several hero teams had already reconnoitered the situation, with most of them losing their lives because of it. They at least gave the first reports as to the scope of this crisis. Stratosphere, Aegis’ mother for those that don’t know, correctly guessed that the laceroids were spreading out from a single point, and the group in Brighton was starting to disperse. She helped mobilize air units from surrounding bases into a deep patrol route around the forests surrounding both towns, but the smoke from Brighton hampered any recon deeper in.”

The slide changed back to the defense line footage, but it was paused before the line fell apart. The timestamps a bit more clear as the fear of the impending horror fell away.

“First Contact, as it came to be known, came at 8:53 AM, Day 2. The units on the ground were obliterated. What few convoys of civilians that managed to be gathered up behind them were hunted down. Only 5 of the reported 12 vehicles made it away. The hero casualties were just as bad. 26 heroes stayed on the line with the army, only one made it away. The flyer who pulled this soldier away.”

The slide flipped again, a satellite image of the crisis area. Smoke seen billowing from Brighton.

“Command ordered immediate withdrawals across the entire area. Delaying and distraction units were set up and dispatched to cover this, but even those suffered casualties. A full reevaluation of this crisis was ordered, and every military and League base in the continental United States was activated. Soon heroes from across the globe began volunteering, The United Nations saw the devastation of the first few days and offered complete support. By Day 6 an action plan was drawn up for a massive defensive line around the now officially cordoned off region surrounding Frigateville. A roughly 2000 square mile area. The idea for The Wall propagated from this.”

“The plan was for a war of attrition, if forces couldn’t hold them off normally then the threat had to be contained and starved out. The Wall was put forth as a vast marvel of mechanical and technological ingenuity. Autofactories would be built to supply turrets and automated defense systems to defend it. All the while human involvement could be kept to a minimum to prevent such extreme casualties. The distraction and delay units were made official, and flying heroes were sent into the field en masse to cover the operations.”

The slide flipped to what looked like gun camera footage from an attack helicopter. The grey scale thermal camera zoomed toward a large patch of dark spots in the distance before it shook as the gun fired. Bright flares of white streaking toward the distant blobs with no regard for accuracy.

“Air units were called in to supplement the distraction force. True success was limited but it was able to drive them into their holes. Add in a bit of bait for that overactive appetite of theirs and you had a good few days worth of distance between the frontlines and the construction. Speaking of which, by Day 10 construction was already started in the area expected to meet the greatest resistance, Block 037 in the town of Berta.”

The slide flipped to a photo of The Wall under construction, cranes, supers, and various machinery being used in tandem. Plates being single handedly put into place and welded together without equipment. Whole sections being just formed and held up by some of the supers.

“Construction took weeks to complete, the multinational force created to facilitate it working round the clock to pull material, labor, and equipment from every corner of the globe. And funnel it all here. Probably bankrupted a few distributors and cleaned out a few dozen iron mines, but everyone knew the danger we all faced if this wasn’t contained. Especially as the first active sections came online, and under assault. Not to say this first iteration of The Wall was ineffective, but the sheer numbers pressed against it combined with the healing factors refuting the attrition certainly tested it. Thankfully the League remained a major point in the defense, because even this success was short lived.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

The slide flipped to not a photo, but a waveform display. Seth didn’t understand what this was about until the sound started to play. *hesshhh hesshhh hesshhh* It sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it. But upon hearing it he felt the Garkah’s own feelings plummet in kind with his. He remembered it, the sound from their initial meeting, like the static in his head from trying to understand them. But why was it here?

“For those in the know, you don’t need to be told. But for the uneducated, this is why the darkest part of the crisis was called the Signal Massacre.”

Seth’s confusion melted, as his own heart sank back down alongside his internalized friends.

“At 3:32 PM Day 35, as a major delaying force of air units and supers went out to engage a massing swarm, this signal was picked up by their radios. We don’t know what the hell it was, or where it came from. All we know is that suddenly every electrical system around that swarm was fried to a crisp. The only worthwhile explanation we have is that the swarm was so damn dense that it started generating its own magnetic pulse. That delaying force was dropped out of the sky right in front of the swarm they were going to suppress. The lucky ones died as they crashed.”

“But the swarm didn’t stop there, it pushed all the way to the wall, killed the power to the auto defenses, and splayed out toward unfinished sections. The ones full of workers. The ones full of food. We almost lost the entire damn line that day. Heroes from across the spectrum did what they could, abandoned their ignored sections and ran to close the gaps. But in the end the only reason we held out was a counter push organized by Burning Eagle himself. And a sacrifice of one of the greatest heroes this world’s ever seen. He burned himself to ash to give the League time to reorganize and re-man the wall. There are no words that can fully grasp what watching him fly down the line felt like. A broiling firestorm in his wake and a true blazing eagle haloing him. Only for that eagle to crash down and turn half a sector of killzone into a burning crater. It was as beautiful as it was pointless. A sacrifice too great to just hold the line.”

Para’s words passed hollow, Seth couldn’t focus, could stay in the present. He remembered passing those helicopters, remembered what Speaker had told him. The countermeasures they set up. It had pushed the laceroids away from him, kept them at bay… but also drove them mad. Caused them to use their powers… caused… all of this. It had made things much worse… and he had demanded they keep them on.

“As the line began to reform and computerized and electrically driven systems became inoperable, the wall had to be rethought out.”

The slide flipped, and the spiraling guilt sucking Seth down snapped. Just enough to see and keep up appearances at least. tIt was diagrams of the now manual wall defenses. The turrets, the assembly lines, the whole analog system.

”The supers who helped in construction were reassigned to the now dead auto factories behind the wall. A lot of the unpowered construction workers stayed as well, in fact a massive call for volunteers was answered rather excessively. Soldiers and equipment were brought up en masse, the previous automated defenses were now fully manned and physically operated. Old combustion engines would have presented too much of a liability, so clockwork and muscle took the stage. The vast expanses of factories and facilities behind the line kept the masses of soldiers supplied and rested. And every block of the wall was given permanent posts to be manned by supers.”

Another slide, photos from the wall, of the soldiers… and Rampart.

“A delay and fry doctrine was put in place, fire being an effective counter to their healing ability. Defensive oriented supers were put on special platforms to draw the swarms in, while flying and fire based supers were brought up to fry that wave. Artillery support was put in behind the lines so each unit had some amount of firepower ready if the fire supers were occupied. Incendiary and white phosphorus shells burn just as effectively as a super if used in sufficient numbers.”

A new slide, a photo from the safe side of the wall. The stairs going up full of waiting soldiers.

“Each soldier was outfitted with a drum fed automatic shotgun with incendiary ammo, slash and stab resistant armor, and enough reinforcements behind them to cover and replace them if they were ever overwhelmed. Despite everything though, casualties were a fact of life.”

Slide change, a photo of the turrets.

“The once automated turrets were shifted to clockwork power and operated manually. The skeletal frame constructed on site, fitted with clockwork run 30 millimeter chainguns. They were highly replaceable, the assembly lines run around the clock even when it was quiet. Just so that when one broke down or was ripped off they could be swapped in less than a minute. The Shells were printed on site as well, parallel assemblies and feeding tubes to the rails the turrets were lifted on. A constant backflow kept the ammo moving up, meaning they could fire till their barrels melted to slag. The only limitation being the batteries, hand wound clockwork boxes run up with the troops. A primitive solution, but it was better than sourcing old mechanical generators.”

The slide flipped again. This time photos of the mountains Para defended, artificial plinths running up into the high cliffs in the distance. With varying degrees of destruction beyond them.

“I already told you all of the areas uncovered by the wall, but I’m adding this here just to cover my bases. The mountains to the north of Frigateville offered a natural deterrent to the laceroids, there’s no food up there after all. But it needed to be closed off to them regardless. Thus earth supers constructed these plateaus and strengthened existing rock walls to hamper any advance. This side only had supers, and each one had to fight for themselves. Fire support was limited, so powers that could only delay the monsters were predominant.”

The slide flipped back to The Wall, it looked like aftermath pictures of the other side. The black dust built up toward the bottom like a grotesque gradient down the wall’s surface.

“This system had flaws, you can’t stop everything from getting through. But it held despite the casualties. Which only leaves the final climax of this whole story, the Longest Day. 6:04 PM, Day 65 of the crisis. A massive swarm was spotted by reconnaissance flyers and what limited satellite imaging we still had. It was headed straight for Block 037, which was expected, but the scale and density was beyond anything they had faced before. If you haven’t been living under a rock these past few years you should know this part well. Rampart gave a rousing speech as he held back the first wave. The swarm was clawing its way over itself unlike anything seen before, or since. That wave kept coming for 18 straight hours. Several turrets melted down and were thrown over the edge like boulders. A whole division’s worth of troops were rotated through the night, with most being back on the wall by sun up and fighting till almost noon. The block’s artillery unit had to be reorganized to cover the area, the original one running out of shells. It wasn’t called the Longest Day for nothing. Whatever the hell was driving these things on finally whimpered out by midday, the swarm dispersing or falling back into cover like all the rest. That… was when we got the only real bright spot of this whole crisis.”

The slide flipped, but it was a drawing. One of the soldiers on the wall drew… drew Seth walking out into the ruins of Berta. He… ‘I… I was the cause of this…’

“The Sole Survivor of Brighton. Expeditions after the fact corroborate that he really was all that was left. But how, why he survived when everyone else didn’t are all still a mystery. Another one for the pile I guess. A few of the more conspiratorial theories say he was what was driving the swarm, but they are wholeheartedly disregarded.”

‘Oh thank fuck!’ The tiniest pieces of brightside there ever was to this hellish truth was snatched up like a support blanket. Seth only able to cling to it as what guilt he had for surviving all this was buried in the reality that he was the cause of so much more death than he could ever realize. But hey, at least he wasn’t outwardly blamed for it all.

“Though I wouldn’t exactly fault them. This kid had walked for days… weeks, through devastation and carnage and survived. When Aegis pulled him out he was just as shell-shocked as the soldiers cheering his rescue. If the laceroids were running from him after all, then I sure as shit hope he’s still out there somewhere.”

‘W-wait…’

“The sad thing is that we don’t know what happened to him.”

‘…Really?’

“The last record we have says he was put into the overstressed foster system and lost among the orphans. A victim of bureaucracy. Though given his condition it would be a small wonder if he even understood his own fame, or worse. His own power.”

‘You… don’t understand the half of it.’

A better hold on that brightside seemed to finally come, from an odd a place as admiration from god damn Para of all people. There was no getting away from the weight piling on his back, but still… ‘Really…?’

“After this day the crisis chugged along. The vast majority of the swarms had been chewed through all at once, so they died down as a result. At the initial peak there was one a day, soon that became maybe one every week. Attrition finally taking its toll. The wall stayed manned for several months to keep the pressure, but expeditions were started to root out any stragglers and get thorough intel on just what the hell had happened. The crisis was finally called off on Day 305, the last distraction flight garnering nothing but relief.”

Para hit the lights, turning off the projector for good.

“Now then, I know full well which of you were deeply affected by this. But I’m not the only one who should know, so I’m giving you this chance. Raise your hand if you were affected personally by the crisis. I know you’re all old enough to have understood it, so don’t hold it back.”

Slowly most of the trainees raised their hands, Seth included. Para had probably been listening to heartbeats or something, Seth could see that being in his wheelhouse. The only ones who didn’t raise their hands were Ohm and Zeleny. Ohm obviously comes from money so that made a little sense. Zeleny was Czech if Seth had read into her nickname correctly, so she was probably removed from the fighting in some way.

“Now then, who here was ‘directly’ affected by the crisis? Family served, and whatnot.”

A few hands lowered. Razor, Cleo, Marco, and Alex.

“Now… who lost someone to this?”

Kabar, Jacob, and Tabby lowered their hands.

Para moved up to each of the trainees who still had their hands up, starting with David.

“I don’t like giving out undo praise, but remember the water supers I said joined me in the mountains?”

Para was unlike himself, softer at least. David lowered his hand and tears started to well up in his eyes.

“Your dad and uncle fought as best they could. I… was proud to have them flanking me.”

Para looked pained, more grimaced saying that. But David didn’t seem to care, he shot up and tried to hug Para in perceived mutual sadness. Para stretched out his hand to stop him.

“Stop it!”

David sniffled his sad memories away, but still smiled as he wiped away the really excessive tears.

“Just tell everyone your motivation already.”

“I… I want to be a great hero like my dad, like uncle Crash.”

He lowered his head.

“I want to make their sacrifice matter.”

Para nodded.

“Good. That’s good enough.”

He quickly moved on to Kaz, but slowed in understanding.

“Your mother… right?”

Kaz kept his calm, but Seth could see his disposition drop by the slightest amount.

“She held the line during Burning Eagle’s last flight. Made sure that none of them made it past her with all their limbs. Heh. …I need to keep her memory alive."

A slight smile was growing on his face in spite of his sadness.

"Also... my dad would be a wreck if he didn’t have me balancing him out.”

Kaz looked back up with a full sincere smile, but Para was looking on with a little smug.

“And there it is.”

He shifted around him.

“I never trusted a smile like that, it just hides the pain.”

Next came Maya, calloused hands rung into a ball for what little comfort they could offer.

“My oldest brother was part of the crews caught during the massacre. He was the only one of my family that I looked up to. He wanted to be a hero as well, but my parents wouldn’t let him apply. So he volunteered and… And I need to be a hero for him! Not just myself!”

Para nodded down to her.

“Noble, and thank you for finally being honest.”

Lastly of course, he approached Seth, seemingly fully aware and yet obviously unaware as to why he was affected.

“This wasn’t specifically directed at you, there weren’t any doubts after you passed out just looking at the wall, but there was plenty here that affected you as well. So spell it out for everyone else, even if it hurts.”

‘No mercy huh?’

Seth drooped his head slightly, the itch to tell him the whole truth burned but it had to be kept secret. But he could settle for part of the way.

“I lost my parents… in Brighton.”

Not… exactly a lie. The surprised stares from the trainees said enough but they melted away into their real feelings on this. A few contemplative, probably thinking he was trying to equate to the sole survivor and steal more clout. Others at least were respectfully sorry. Para was unmoved.

“And…”

“I was on one of the trucks that made it away. I saw enough carnage to never wish it upon anyone ever again. But…”

Seth looked up at Para, the lie washed away by true determination.

“I need to pay back the debts I’ve accrued! Too many people died to save me! Too many people suffered because of… because of me. I need to pay them back. And being a hero is the only way I feel like I’ll actually be able to do that. Just going on living isn’t enough.”

Para stayed unmoved, but didn’t press further. He just turned away and readdressed the class.

“I’d say that’s enough for today, just remember what I told you. Understand your own motives, and those of your allies. You’re dismissed.”

The trainees filed out and back to their rooms, left with nothing but their own thoughts.

Seth dropped onto his bed like a sack of bricks, guilt continuously piling on and trying to spiral him down further and further into himself. His heartbeat the only sound he cared to listen to. But his repeating memories still held some bright spots in between the bleeding dark, a bit of strength pulling him to grab up the box on his nightstand. The red scarf inside was still vibrant, unblemished. He could still feel the warmth of it over his neck, the hold it gave, the bits of his early life it allowed him to even remember. He closed the box up and laid back with it tight to his chest, just wanting to sleep away this mounting depression. Speaker saw the opportunity to help ease a bit of it as he drifted off.

“Do not blame yourself for this, we are just as at fault… Though I guess that could be said for a lot of what has befallen this world.”

Speaker was doing his best, but there was only so much he could do.

‘It’s… it’s fine.’

Not that there was much that needed to be done anyway. Seth could take this new guilt. He already had so much to deal with already, what’s another facet of a horrendous disaster to lay out on top of it. He could still feel his resolve buried beneath it all. He knew what he had to do, and he knew he could keep going. All he had to do was get through this course and become a hero. Then it will be nothing but reparation for all this piled up guilt.