Good Intel Wins Wars
Eliot/Ellulia
Ellulia smiled broadly as Henry entered the room. Henry smiled back and they closed the distance in a hug.
“Anything interesting take place while I've been gone?” he asked as he walked over to one of his wordrobes.
They were in Henry’s bedroom. It wasn’t too large, about 30 square meters with a high ceiling. The majority of the floor, and the entire walking area, was taken up by a red carpet. Across from the door, perpendicular against the far wall, was a larger than king size bed with thick, white fur blankets and two pillows symmetrically arranged. On either side of the bed was a desk with a centered large candle on each. In the middle of the right wall was a window, flanked by large bookshelves, filled to the brim. The left wall was symmetrical with the right, only wardrobes took the place of the bookshelves.
“Nothing much,” said Ellulia as she flopped on his bed, ruining the perfectly unwrinkled blankets. “One of the guards stole some meat from the kitchens and Reltus made them all run laps around the castle until the thief came forward.”
“Who was it?” asked Henry as he hung, folded, and organized his clothing. He could have let a servant handle it, but he was OCD about these types of things and just did it himself.
Ellulia chuckled as she recalled what happened, “The thief never came forward, poor guards had to run all night. Reltus probably would’ve had them run until they died if uncle hadn’t told them to stop.” Henry laughed, knowing that the guards had suffered far worse in the past.
“Glad to know Reltus is the same,” he said. “Anything else?”
“There is one other thing…” Ellulia let on.
“What is it?” asked Henry when she didn’t finish, turning his head to look at her.
Ellulia grinned as she said, “Father came to visit.” She pointed to the door. Henry put down the clothes in his hands and turned towards the door. Standing in the door frame with a warm smile was Klause Crucible.
“Father!” Henry shouted as he ran up to and wrapped him in a bear hug. Klause returned the hug with the same force and intensity.
“It’s been too long,” he said. He was right, the last time Klause visited was close to a year ago.
Ellulia let them go off and do whatever ‘manly’ things a man and his son did, she already spent a lot of time with their father, it was Henry’s turn. Instead, she asked a servant to ready a bath for her and proceeded to get ready for her date.
After her bath, Ellulia examined herself in her full body mirror as she adjusted her dress. The bright afternoon sun shone vibrantly through the window, clearly painting the room in light. I’m not sure about this, I’m going to wrap them back up, Ellulia thought with a frown. Have I been wrong about Eliot before? Beelzebub argued. What if-Ellulia started. What if it works too well? Beelzebub cut her off in a cavalier tone. What if he doesn’t even notice? Ellulia grumbled. Make him notice, said beelzebub. She still wasn’t convinced and irresolutely glared at herself in the mirror. You're doing this to show him that you’re comfortable in his presence, comfortable enough to be exposed. It will work, even if only subconsciously. She tore her eyes from the mirror in defeat and looked around for her brush. She returned to the mirror cradling it in her hands, helplessly staring at her hair. You’ve never fixed your own hair before, have you? Beelzebub asked in a low voice. You know that as well as I do, Ellulia confirmed. Beelzebub sighed and slowly coached her through the process.
Fifty minutes and some frustration later, Ellulia double checked herself in the mirror. She wore a custom tailored cerulean blue dress that hugged the top half of her frame but hung loosely past her waist, just dragging on the floor. Her hair was braided around the back of her scalp and freely flowed into two curls at the front, reaching just past her shoulders. You should have piercings, then you would be perfect, Beelzebub commented. Earrings aren’t proper, Ellulia rolled her eyes, Beelzebub had brought up the topic before. They were when I was alive, he said. Ellulia ignored him and thought about what was to come, her heart beat just a bit faster in anticipation.
Eliot rubbed his bloodshot eyes as he leaned back in his stone chair. This chair is awful, he thought for the thousandth time as he stretched his painful back. He sat at his stone desk, facing the stone wall with a well conditioned red book lying open in front of him. He was burning through Arvick’s collection of books; Eliot openly admired Arvik’s ability to maintain his books, half of Eliot’s personal collection was worn and dessicated.
He had a piece of paper half filled with rushed and curved writing sitting under the book, a quill resting in the ink holder to the left of the paper. Eliot was using a skill called scholar’s spectacles that made light shine from his eyes and illuminated anything he looked at. The book he was currently reading was a spell book; Spell books come in all sorts of writing and teaching styles, so he needed to write his own notes, they made no sense to anyone else but perfect sense to him.
Eliot was currently contemplating the spell herbologist’s gift, it speeds up the growth of plants in a way that the user can preview how the plant looks before finalizing. If the plant was just planted, the mage could see every phase of its growth before physically altering it. If the plant was half way through its life, the user could only preview and alter the plant’s future growth, they couldn’t make it younger.
There were a few problems, though. The spell book describes it as using mana as a miracle fertilizer, that was why you could only speed up the growth and couldn’t ungrow it. When analyzing the spell, though, Eliot noticed that the runes were completely different than what the spell book describes. The spell looks to be a mix of illusions and restricted time control. Of course, if that were true, the spell should be able to go back in a plant’s life, but upon testing it he confirmed that was impossible. So, he took a second look at the spell’s runes and found self limiters in place that made it impossible to turn back a plant’s time.
Eliot couldn’t understand why the spell’s creator put those restrictions in place and removed them from the spell. He tested the modified spell and it worked perfectly, completely able to un-grow a plant. He had a mini freak out when he realized that was the first spell he had ever modified a spell, he always had the thought in the back of his head at the academy, but he never had the time or resources to attempt it. Still, it didn’t stop there. After he calmed down, he noticed that the modified herbologist’s gift hardly resembled the original. He couldn’t think of a reason that would be, he only removed a few runes, after all. And, as he took a second look, comparing the two, he realized that the base spell wasn’t herbologist’s gift, it didn’t even have anything to do with plants. Seeing it from a new perspective, herbologist’s gift had the base of a time spell and the add ons of the spell only specified it for plants.
When he found that, Eliot got to work extracting the base time spell from the limiters and specifications. Sitting in front of him, on the paper, was the base time spell. He took the time for a cursory comparison, but he didn’t find any spell he knew or in one of his spell books that resembled the spell at all. In fact, none of the spells he’s ever seen has anything to do with time. Now, all that was left to do was test it. Thoeretically, the spell should let the user control the timeline of anything, living or not. With this spell, you would be able to collapse a building by going so far into the future that it decomposes, you could have practical immortality by resetting your body, or you could reduce any living being to dust, no matter how powerful.
Eliot leaned back in his chair glaring at the finished spell. He almost didn’t want it to work, it would be way too unfair. Suddenly, a light touch tilted his head back. The top of his head burrowed into something soft, and blonde hair brushed against the side of his face. In his vision, he could see an upside down Ellulia, illuminated by his spell, smiling at him.
“Hello, dear,” she said softly. Eliot wasn’t prepared for his emotional core to be overloaded and his intelligence was reduced to that of a jellyfish.
“H-hello… dear,” Eliot responded in a slightly higher pitch than normal. Ellulia giggled at him: she loved his impulsive, slack jawed answers. At the same time, she had to repress the urge to purr from the sound of his voice. Eliot regained a degree of control and jumped out of his chair, a slight ASMR like feeling floating around his head. He cancled his spell and lit a candle with a magical flick. “Why are you here? Our date is in eight minutes,” he asked. Eliot wanted to make a grand display of him going to the castle, he didn’t even consider that she would show up early.
“I wanted to spend as much time with you as possible,” Ellulia cooed as she stepped closer to him and grasped his hand. Eliot got lost in the depth of Ellulia’s eyes. After the time he spent chasing her, he could hardly believe that they were casually going on a date.
“Let me get ready, I’ll be quick,” he said as he rushed out of the room. Ellulia smiled at the doorway. The impudence! Beelzebub exploded, We spent hours grooming you. Let’s be off, he isn’t worth it. Ellulia laughed at his anger. You are too forgiving. You need to set a precedence, he told her. She ignored him and turned around, looking at the set up on Eliot’s desk. She could make out his practically illegible handwriting perfectly, but she couldn’t make sense of what any of it meant. Suddenly, Beelzebub barked a laugh. Ellulia rolled her eyes, ready for another of his comments. If you want Eliot to live past the month, tell him to stop messing with time, he snarled. Ellulia gave him a look that meant explain, but Beelzebub continued laughing at Eliot like he was a jester.
“Sorry for the mess,” Eliot rushed an apology as he frantically dashed around the cluttered room, tidying things up. He wore a black, embroidered, and golden rimmed jacket with matching buckled shoes and pants.
Out of nowhere, Eliot came to an abrupt halt and asked, “How did you know I was here?” As he asked the question, he furtively eyed her chest. She wraps them in cloth to help her balance during fights, then? he presumed; Penlope did the same thing, as did most female fighters.
“Arvick told me you were living here for the foreseeable future,” answered Ellulia.
“Arvick?” Eliot asked, caught off guard. The obvious answer was usually correct, so he had his expectations low.
“We’re old friends,” she shrugged.
“Old friends?” he repeated, not realizing how much unfounded jealousy was present in his voice.
"He is a vampire, I have a unique bloodline. We were bound to meet at some point,” Ellulia explained. She did have a small experimental relationship with him two years back, but Eliot didn’t need to know that. “I’m starved, let’s get going,” she distracted him as she wrapped herself around his right arm. In that moment as they stared into each other’s eyes, she never wanted to let go.
Eliot finally relaxed, he dropped his rounded shoulders and took a deep breath, transitioning his disposition. Ellulia activated an engraved ring, making her hair bloom with a sheen of rainbow light before bouncing back to normal and her eyes slowly circle colors until settling. The excitement only lasted a second, resulting in the color of her hair and eyes shifting to brown. After asking if she was ready, Eliot opened a portal and led her through.
They exited the portal outside of Tal’s Tavern. Ellulia had to suppress a scowl as her fears were confirmed. Tal’s Tavern looked like any other run of the mill dump on the outside.
“I know it doesn’t look much, but I promise you it has the best food on Earth,” Eliot assured her. Until now, he never realized how painfully plebian the appearance of his favorite place to eat was. Ellulia pretended to be convinced and walked in, her inner spoiled princess squirming uncomfortably.
Au contraire, she was pleasantly surprised when the inside was much cleaner and, she would dare say, regal than she expected. To add toppings to the ice cream, it was quiet and Eliot led them to a booth that, albeit barely, met her sitting criteria. The level of light was good enough and she felt like they were in their own little world, tucked away in the corner of the tavern. The booths were made with couples in mind, so the space was small and the candle that sat on the left side of the table had red tinted flames. They sat down and Ellulia placed her hands on the table so she wouldn’t fidget.
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“This is nice,” Ellulia awkwardly tried her best at a compliment. Eliot tapped an engraving on the bottom of the table.
“That means a lot coming from a princess,” he saved her. “I set up a Sonic Martial Barrier, we can speak freely here.” Ellulia noticed a small shift in the hue and, if she focused, she could spot a thin film of mana suspended in the air around them. She made a small mental note about it, she wasn’t usually able to see mana. But, suddenly being able to do new things wasn’t out of the ordinary for her, just interesting.
“How much of the day do you have planned out?” Ellulia asked him, her voice hinting desire. Eliot smoothly slipped his hand under hers and gave her a canny smile. His touch sent tingles down her spine.
“I’ll let you figure that out personally,” he murmured. His solidifying sense of control shattered when the waiter walked up to the booth entrance. Why isn’t she off duty? Eliot thought in a panic. He specifically planned their time for when she wasn’t here.
Cherry’s smile gleamed as she subtly bounced on her heels.
“Hello, how is everyone this evening?” she asked pleasantly.
“Perfect,” Ellulia answered.
“Wonderful. What can I get you?” Cherry flipped open a modern looking notepad, pencil in hand.
“Two servings of the usual, please,” Eliot ordered.
“Alrighty, then. I’ll get that to you as soon as possible,” Cherry said in her sing song voice. “It’s nice to see you with company, Sir Relius,” she added with a wink before walking off. Eliot mentally thanked her for dialing it back, he would make sure to give a handsome tip.
“The usual?” Ellulia asked, not with jealousy, but a hint of avidity. Eliot let her imagination run wild, confident the taste of the food would blow her expectations out of the water.
Cherry returned with two helping of beef stew and water, wishing them a good meal before leaving again.
“Gods, that's delicious!” Cherry heard Ellulia exclaim as she walked away. She made her way to the opposite corner and collected the empty bowl at the table as usual.
“Was I right? Is the stew better than the steak after all, Son?” Cherry asked the completely average looking man occupying the table. Death’s Son chuckled as he climbed out of his seat.
“You’re always right, Kiss,” he said as he kissed her on the cheek and left without paying.
Klein
Klein sized up the new recruits with his hands on his hips.
“What’re your names?” he asked them. The two fresh faces straightened in a salute as they answered.
“Olivia Crawford, Sir!” the woman answered.
“Susan Carlisle, Sir!” the man answered. It was an odd name, but not too out of place. Recently, people have been naming their children the names of the opposite sex after the famous Faith Fohster. They both wore standard white ACUs. Susan had extremely light brown hair, light yellow eyes, a lean figure, and carried himself with a volatile demeanor. Olivia had platinum white hair with matching eyes and also had a lean frame but carried herself with bright confidence. Thanks to breakthroughs in genetic engineering, the government allowed slight modification like hair and eye color open to the public. Klein was actually excited to have them on the team after reading their files. They both stood out during basic training, their scores were miles better than their peers, these two were obviously top notch with bright futures.
“Why did you want to join a black ops unit?” Klein asked them. They were interviewed when they first applied and he knew all of their answers, but it was the standard hazing procedure. Klein never liked hazing, spoken like a sheltered civilian, but he would do this much.
“Black ops are the only missions that take action and affect real change during this pre-war period, sir,” Susan answered for both of them.
“Are you suggesting that a war is unavoidable?”
“No, sir, but I do believe that is the most likely conclusion,” Olivia answered.
“You have promising futures, are you aware that being in a black ops unit might skew your rank?”
“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.
“Have you had any mission experience before this?”
“No, sir.” Klein studied them in a moment of silence.
“Try and take me down,” he ordered as he got into a boxing pose. Susan and Olivia exchanged looks before running at him. They were so slow in Klein’s eyes, they didn’t have C.B.Is yet after all. They tried a flanking attack, but he simply jabbed one in the nose, the other in the stomach, and swept them both off their feet before they could do anything.
“We’ve got a lot of work to do,” said Klein as he helped them up.
The first three days of his punishment were filled past overflowing. He spent most of his time training the new recruits, the rest of the time on menial tasks, and lost sleep working on his robot. Once he finished the cleaning robot, though, his days cleared up. It was a multi purpose cleaning bot; when he was still in college it was one of its kind. Unfortunately, since his days in the army technology sped ahead of him and now robots like that are commonplace. Pearl will be angry when she finds out he was shirking some of his punishment, but she would ultimately let it slide. Besides, they could use all hands on deck when things inevitably got hectic.
Half a month passed in a blur and they were on their first mission with two new members. This time, they were taking back a research facility that was currently occupied by rebels. They took it only five weeks ago and the higher ups were hopeful that they hadn’t cracked the security yet, but feared they would soon. The higher ups couldn’t afford the top secret information falling into the rebel’s hands. At least, that was what Klein and his team were told in the mission briefing; Klein knew that information was important, but he didn't think it was as serious as they made it out to be.
“Is everyone in position?” Klein checked over comms. He was in a drone cage, suspended one hundred meters in the air. He laid atop a ridiculously large human sized battery connected to his sniper. It was a clear Antarctic summer day and he could see most of the base through his modified F-RM53 scope. It was a sleek, white painted sniper class rail gun with a hollow stock, short handle, and barrel one hundred seventy centimeters(five and a half feet) long. Mounted on his shoulder was a simple looking audio amplifier, connected to headphones he wore over his head, and he was strategically positioned in the sun’s path relative to the base so they wouldn’t be able to see his large heat signature in infrared. The actual research base was completely underground; above ground was a fort of four thousand five hundred square meters(forty eight thousand, five hundred square feet) surrounding a main hut with the only elevator. Klein recognized the glaring flaws in the design, but he wasn’t an architect so he wasn’t qualified to share his opinion.
“Operation brood parasite is a go,” said Klein when everyone responded in the positive, tracking the progress of the jeeps. The one in the lead was a simple snow treader used by the rebel forces, it looked like a mix between a snowmobile and a jeep. Driving it was Curca, with Susan and Olivia in the other seats. They were disguised as weapons dealers wearing the same classic, puffy white vests that covered everything else, armed with ak-48s; the ak-48 was the exact same model as the ak-47 but with its fire power upgraded to keep pace with the technological advancements. They were followed by the team’s camouflage capable, state of the art van with the rest of the unit in it, armed with the standard gear: white kevlar-mesh and S.H.A.R.K.Ws.
Numbers floated in Klein’s vision, telling him the exact distance between the fort and the cars.
“Start shooting,” he ordered. Following his order, the snow treader came under fire from the van and they mocked evasive maneuvers. Klein picked up the voices of the rebel sentries keeping watch, they noticed the vans and assumed exactly what he intended. “The mother bird recognizes the parasite as its own. Ninety seconds until break,” he gave them an update. As they got closer to the fort, more rebels took their place in a firing squad on the fort wall and opened fire when the van was in range.
“Initiating break,” said Maverick as the van veered in retreat.
“Parasite infiltrating the nest,” said Curca as they slowed in front of the opening gates before speeding through them and into the fort. The rebels surrounded the snow treader and pointed their ak48s at them, demanding to know who they were.
“We’re arms dealers. We got caught off guard by some professional mercenaries. They got the jump on us during commute, so they didn’t get our weapons. We’ll tell you where they are if you help us,” Curca told them.
“Stand down!” ordered some one Klein assumed was important, but looked and carried the same gear as everyone else. She had short brown hair with a blue bandana as her only defining features. She was also noticeably british and spoke with an accent, but the rebels were all sorts of ethnicities. “Any proof?” she asked them. Susan stepped forward and dug out dog tags from under his shirt, the ones belonging to their last mission’s person of interest. The woman nodded and escorted the trio into the surface hut. Klein’s vision switched to infrared with a thought and he tracked their progress three floors down, into a small room. A small screen opened in the bottom right of his vision, connected to hidden cameras, one on all of three of them. Besides the large, black, and glass topped table surrounded by chairs, the room was mostly bare with white walls and a lone computer in the corner.
Aside from the three in his unit, there were four other people in the room, the british women and her entourage. With absolutely no warning, Curca raised two pistols and smoothly popped the heads off of two of them. Susuan and Olivia only lagged half a second behind in killing the other two. Curca didn’t even bother confirming if Susan and Olivia had succeeded, instantly flipping her attention to the terminal. She had a dual major in computer science and computer programming before she got involved with the military; she deactivated the security systems in less than four minutes. Klein couldn’t help but crack a smile at Curca’s finess.
“Mother bird has left the nest,” Curca announced over the comms.
“Initiate operation false familicide,” said Klein in response. Curca stayed in the room to check if the rebels managed to uncover the secret info. Susan and Olivia worked with seamless coordination as they moved on to clear the rest of the floor. They’ve come a long way, Klein thought with a shred of pride.
Outside, he switched focus to a guard overlooking the rest of his team’s infiltration route, infrared deactivated. A bullet path appeared in his vision, predicted to land on the rebel’s chest. Klein pulled the trigger; a giant puff of flames spewed from the barrel of his sniper and rocked the entire drone cage. A cellophane timer appeared in the top right of his vision, telling him how long it would be until his sniper cooled down enough to fire another shot. Warmth radiated intensely against Klein’s face and momentarily warped his vision. Almost instantly after he pulled the trigger, the rebel's entire upper torso was blown clean off his body and he fell lifelessly off the wall, embracing the endless snow. Klein reached into his pocket and loaded another armature in an opening near the base of the barrel.
“Path clear,” he told his team. The van dropped its camouflage and appeared right beside the rebel’s dead body. Maverick, Yorkson, Ochoa, and Ford filed out of the van and scaled the wall with gecko gloves. There was a rebel stationed every five hundred meters with infrared binoculars, so they needed to be quick if they wanted the rebels to stay clueless. Yorkson and Maverick turned left, Ochoa and Ford turned right, running across the wall, systematically killing their way along. Klein fired another shot mid way through, killing a rebel that had eyes on the operation, and in six minutes the top of the walls were clear. Around the same time, Olivia, Susan, and Curca were finished clearing the third floor, moving to the second floor.
“Moving on to ground level,” Maverick reported.
“Acknowledged,” responded Klein as he noticed an opportunity, running a simulation in his head. Maverick and Ochoa watched the ground as Yorkson and Ford descended, switching when they landed. They crouched near the ground, hiding behind barrels, boxes, or vehicles, and carefully picked off outliers.
“How do we proceed, Bird Watcher?” Maverick asked when they solidified their position on the ground.
“I’ll give you a distraction,” said Klein as he aimed at their food tent. Rebels were crowded around it in bunches, eating warm soup, and even more were in line to get some. He fired at the portable gas stove, or more accurately, at the gas it was connected to. The barrel of gasoline burst and lit from the stove’s flame, engulfing the tent and its surroundings in a blazing inferno. His team followed up, easily taking out the panicking rebels with deadly proficiency.
“Ground level clear,” said Maverick soon after.
“Bird watcher climbing down,” said Klein in response. He set the drone cage to a safe descent before packing up the sound amplifier and carrying the modified F-RM53 on his back. He jumped from the cage, the wind rushed past his ears and through his hair with a deafening roar. Mid-flight, he reached into his backpack and took out a personal floater, a board with two propellers embedded in both sides, slowing him down to a glide before he reached the ground.
“Second floor clear,” announced Curca.
“Regroup on ground level,” Klein ordered as he called the elevator along with the rest of his team. They piled into the elevator and cleared the first floor with ease. “How is it, Curca?”asked Klein as they moved on to the fourth floor.
“They’ve broken through security and seen the classified intel,” she reported.
“Have they spread it yet?” he asked.
“No, if we eliminate everyone here, the mission should be a success,” she told him.
“So, what was it? What’re we retaking this base to protect?” Ford asked.
“Of course I didn’t look through it myself,” Curca responded emotionlessly. Ford grunted discontentedly but let it go.
“Heads up, look at the infrared,” Maverick interrupted. Klein switched to infrared vision and saw why he cried wolf: an ambush waited for them on the bottom floor. They all knew what they had to do and appropriately jumped into action. Klein reached into his pack and produced a folded wall he set up in front of the elevator, Curca and Maverick stood at the ready with flash bangs, and everyone got down. The elevator doors slid open and a grenade flew in accompanied by gun fire, no one panicked. Olivia reacted before anyone else and hit the grenade with the but of her S.H.A.R.K.W. Along with the grenade, two flash bangs exploded in the room and they all phase shifted out of the elevator, opening fire on the disoriented and half dead rebels missing limbs. Their screams were silenced within minutes and they called in a successful operation. Klein took in the room, filled with rows of computers and chairs, a large black screen embedded in the front wall. The floor was littered with rebel bodies, computers were blown to smithereens and filled with bullet holes, and the large screen was stained with blood. It was the cleaners’ job now.
Within hours, U.S military personnel were all over the research base, orderly cleaning, standing guard, or commanding. Klein was surprised when he saw Pearl escorted inside by an entourage of soldiers.
“I didn’t think you would be coming here personally, General,” he said as he caught her attention. But Pearl was all business.
“Good job on the successful mission, return to base and prepare for the next one,” she said as she passed by him, beelining toward the elevator. It wasn’t his job to ask questions, but Klein couldn’t help wondering what made Pearl get so serious. He shrugged it off and resolved to ask Curca about it later; it was easy for him to read her by now and she obviously looked at the information, or at least saw more than she intended.