After dealing with the Kings, Joy was significantly less worried about everything going to plan. How were these people going to suspect that they were being played when they didn’t know how to tie their own shoes? Besides the atrocity that is the Kings, the Riders and Forsaken were not known for their intelligence either. The Forsaken were more known for brutality, and the Riders for their cooperation. In the upcoming conflict, the one that worried her the most was the Riders, say what you will about their name, it was born from the utmost loyalty.
It was that famous loyalty that she fully intended to exploit.
But that was for later, now it was time to watch the show.
-------------------------------------------------
From the north, legions of unorganized gangsters poured into the Kings’ territory, like droplets down worn and pitted glass. Each group differed in size and speed, gravity bringing them towards their common goal. The Kings’ total destruction.
Their bodies gleamed with metal and plastic from various enhancements, each one a trophy as much as it was a tool, showing that not only could they keep such an expensive piece of equipment, but that they could take one as well.
The march of bodies was broken up only by large vehicles that rode alongside them, the large guns atop them the battering rams of the Undercity.
An undeniable air of camaraderie followed the makeshift army as they marched, and though they might not be trained to look out for one another, they would take on the world for each other. The man they fought for rode in the front, he was more metal than man, yet there was undisputable charisma under his metal exterior. He fully trusted his men to watch his back, and they could trust him the same. Rorke’s Riders had arrived.
From the west, a horde of barbarians with eyes that promised untold brutality approached. Their bodies tout like compressed springs waiting to be unleashed. A few were already bloodied, unable to hold out for the actual fight. A raucous and untamable energy was their only true companion in the mass of violence that they marched in.
They had no vehicles breaking up their ranks, instead, they invested in heavy ordinance that could be carried by the savages in their ranks. Unlike the Riders, they didn’t need to be protected by shells of metal and cowardice. They didn’t look for concepts like ‘camaraderie’ to fill their ranks, they were already Forsaken by the system, so the only rules they had to follow were their own.
They chose to rule by sheer ferocity and will, and if they were going down, it was going to be goddamn glorious. This is what they lived for, and they loved every second of it. The motherfucking Forsaken had arrived, and they would fucking skin you alive.
A klaxon call rang out from the Kings’ panicking watchman, the electronic alarm a death knell for the tyrants that ran the sector, though they didn’t know it yet.
In the ‘palace’ that the Kings resided in, a random group was sent to get their leader, and if they were panicking before, then now they were truly hysterical.
Still, though, they knew who was coming for them, and they knew that mercy was a foreign concept to them, after all, people of the same breed knew each other best.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
The Kings jittered and shook uncontrollably in their castle of avarice, their defense atop a live wire of nervous energy, and when they finally saw their adversary's eyes, their hysteria redoubled. The Kings would not be getting out of this alive. They had broken the unspoken rule and captured the territory preventing all-out war. Well, now they’ve got it.
The makeshift wall that surrounded their tower shook from the impact of solid projectiles, the only thing stopping its instant collapse was its energy redistributors that shoved the kinetic energy they were receiving into the ground. They were overloaded within five minutes.
Now with their wall gone, the Kings’ fled deeper into their compound. A hail of energy projectiles followed their retreat, but the first augment any gangster worth their salt received was an energy shield. They could be overloaded, of course, but they were incredibly efficient at dealing with plasma projectiles. The only things they protected against were velocity and heat, though.
What they couldn’t against was oscillating plasteel.
Before magic, humanity had innovated itself into the past. They got so good at protecting their soldiers from energy and ballistic projectiles that the only recourse was to go back to fighting close quarters. Of course, they had counters to that as well, a weave as light as cloth that could defend against any sharp blade, but they invented around it. They created an oscillating weapon that could cut through the fabric. Innovating around self-made problems is what they do best.
Before they could continue that trend, though, magic arrived. Technology was thrown out like an old toy that humanity got bored with, and now it was only brought out when necessary. That was only true for the overworlders, though, and the technology that was so thanklessly thrown out by the people over them was gratefully put to use by the underworlders, it wasn’t as if they couldn’t relate.
All this to say, melee was back in fashion, and in a big way.
So when the Forsaken and Riders rushed through the gap in the wall, it was a bloodbath. The Forsaken swung at whoever was closest, and the Riders swung at anyone who wasn’t a Rider. It was chaos, and in their own way for each faction, they were reveling in it. This was their chosen profession, and they would be damned if they weren’t good at it.
-------------------------------------------------
Joseph was having a fantastic day. Word just came down from up high, and apparently, those fucking idiots over at the Kings had just taken the neutral territory. Of course, the Forsaken wouldn’t let that stand, so that meant he was going to war. He was just so excited! The only thing he could think to compare it to was the old world holiday, Christmas Eve, and he was the little kid too excited to sleep.
There hadn’t been a war in ages, like, at least fifteen years. Sure, there were some random skirmishes, but nothing like this.
But just like a kid on Christmas, though it felt impossible, the wait did eventually end.
He was walking in the front of the horde, and the energy was absolutely electric. He was loving every second of it! Around him, a few punches flew here or there, and he threw a few himself, but there were surprisingly few murders. They were saving their energy for the Kings, and he could respect that, so he held himself back, too.
Finally, they arrived. To his left, he could see those pansy-ass Riders, and directly in front of him lay the prize. All they had to do was get through that wall, and the juicy insides would reveal themselves. The Riders let off the first shot from one of their tanks, or whatever they choose to call ‘em, and then a rocket went off from a U.S.L next to him, it was a rocket launcher and everybody knew it, Joseph didn’t understand the need for fancy abbreviations.
It didn’t take long for the wall to come down, and when it did, oh boy, it was like a tornado of violence propelled him and his fellow Forsaken! YES! This was what it was all about! Ahead of him, those fucking cowards were retreating back to their ugly ass tower, but he wouldn’t allow that. His mace came down like a mountain on the back of one of the retreating kings, each sharp metallic spur on it designed to destabilize armor before the heavy metal core brought down the force of god on its opponent, he fucking loved it!
When it made contact, he watched with something approaching reverence as the random King’s back exploded in gore. Ah, that explosive enhancement was so fucking worth it.
Ah, those cowards must have realized they wouldn’t be making it back to their tower, cause they actually started fighting back! One of them swung at him with a classic chainsword, ah, a man of taste, he would have Joseph’s respect when he died. Joseph blocked it with his shield, but it barely held out, he wouldn’t be getting too many chances. Oh well, whatever, explosion time! A sideswipe from his mace got past the random man’s guard and hit him in the side, and oh what a glorious sight his rib cage exploding was. Then, a sharp pain ripped up through the side of his neck and cut his head off.
‘Badass’, was his final thought.
-------------------------------------------------
Around him, similar scenes were playing out over and over. A cacophony of violence and sound washed over Joy from her perch, and she intensely regretted not bringing popcorn. It was so hard to find down here.
It was probably for the best, her role to play was almost here. She couldn’t fuck this up, or it would set her back months. Thank The Swarm, she had spent so much time setting this up. Well, a week and a half wasn't a ton of time, but for these people it would be enough.