Year: 1020

  For any rational man or woman in Gujjar, the Badla was nothing more than an old story to scare children, but ration had left these lands long ago. For parents the Badla was a ghost story to keep their children in line; for the children, the Badla was an ever-watching presence that punished disobedience, and for one particular soldier in the Western Command, the Badla was death incarnate.

The dying soldier had collapsed to his knees, as the impact of the Badla’s whip tore through his chest. This thing that stood before him was anything but myth, it was like him, a Technician, but different. One of the last thoughts this dying Technician would have was fueled by his ego.

He wondered how this Technician in a First Era suit, an inferior Technician’s suit, was able to best him so thoroughly. He should have easily won this fight in his modern suit, but the Badla’s speed and power were inhuman, even for a Technician, and the whips had somehow torn throw his armor. He wanted to look at his killer’s face, but it was covered in a smooth armored mask, light pewter in color like the rest of the armor. All he could see was the green glow emitting from the eye sockets of the mask, and those eyes glowed brighter with each step the Badla took towards him.

With a snap of the wrist, the Badla cracked the whip as it retracted into a sword. The figure stepped closer. Now he could see, how the whips were able to pierce his nearly indestructible armor.

It was wielding Technium blades.

Each whip was lined with at least a dozen sharp triangular metal pieces, the gap between each blade sizzling and sparking with electricity. The soldier knew that like his own suit, the Badla’s whips and armor were made from the same material, and infused with the Essence of lightning

“W-why,” was all the dying Technician could ask as he struggled to get up onto his knees.

The Badla didn’t respond, instead, it cracked the second whip and retracted it; each of the dozen or so triangular blades fitting snugly together to form another blade. At nearly three feet long, each blade was half as tall as the Badla. Without hesitation, the Badla thrust the blade forward, from the base of the soldier’s nose through the back of his head; ending the man’s misery.

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The Badla’s night was just beginning. Eighteen souls would fall that night, either to the Badla’s whipped blades, the retracted swords, or from the lightning Essence the Badla wielded; each as painful a death as the last. The Badla always targeted the Technicians first, knowing that there were rarely more than two stationed at small outposts; a Frequency Technician to relay messages, and a Technician specializing in power or defense to protect the base. Luckily, the Technician the Badla had kill was an inexperienced one, like most stationed in small, seemingly insignificant, garrisons. Any Essence users in Tech suits, even inexperienced ones, were formidable enough not to be trifled with, however, this insignificant post was under the siege of a very significant threat.

Four concrete walls, thirty feet in height, surrounded the target of tonight's escapades, a single communication tower. Towers like this were used by Frequency Technicians to boost the range of their communication signals to communicate messages and commands to other Frequency Technicians in far off bases. Knocking this tower down meant breaking the circuit in the area and disrupting several major lines of communications that used this small garrison’s tower as a relay station. Xavodia's Western Command would have to send several Technicians with the appropriate Essences to fix the tower. It would take weeks for the communication lines to be repaired.

Stepping over the dead Tech, the Badla walked towards the only viable entrance the walls allowed, two steel doors.

The Badla had to hurry, undoubtedly the Frequency Technician behind the walls had already alerted nearby garrisons of the attack. They would certainly dispatch a large reinforcement force to capture, or more likely kill, the Scourge of the Western Command. Soon multiple power-based Technicians and non-essence soldiers would arrive with heavy weaponry in tow.

The Badla unclasped the swords back into their whip forms, and in a motion reminiscent of throwing a ball, hurled the tips of the whips towards the steel doors. The spear-like tips of the whips slammed into each door, piercing the steel as easily as arrows being shot through bales of hay.

The Badla smashed the toes of the antique Tech boots into the asphalt, creating holes where the heels of the feet could be placed, using the craters as rivets to brace, dock, and anchor. The Badla turned its back to the wall and pulled the tightly secured hilts of the whips over the shoulders, and with one massive tug, the steel doors went flying into the night sky and crashed twenty feet from where the Badla stood.

The alarms blared, lights and sirens illuminating the night sky.