Aj was suspended in darkness. As soon as the carnage serum had touched his lips, he had blacked out. Now he was surrounded by nothing, as he floated. It was impossible to tell which side was up or down, as he felt nauseous. It felt like hours had passed as he remained still, his mind reeling from boredom.
Was he dead? Was this it? The afterlife so many had promised? So much for the stories of the high table in the halls of the Gods, as families reconnected, sharing in happiness and joy as they shared tales from their time among the Martian Dunes.
Sorrow filled Aj’s chest, as images of Sammy came to him. He had hoped that he would have met her in the afterlife, or to at least hold her one last time. He cursed himself for ever leaving her side, she would still be alive had he gone in with them.
Slowly, a far distant prick of light appeared, glowing red. Aj’s eyes widened. So, there was an afterlife, and by the looks of it, he would not be joining his family by the high table. This made sense, despite doing his best to live by Bellum’s tenets, he had a hand in the god’s death. Perhaps his glorious kin had seen his actions and had doomed him to hell for his sacrilegious actions.
The bright red light grew, until it enveloped his vision. His body shot forward, and Aj felt like he was once again falling through time and space. As he had in the portal all that time ago, he now shouted and flailed as it felt like his body was flying at hundreds of miles per hour. Nausea and fear contorted his body as he wailed.
The red light vanished, and Aj opened his eyes. He was alone, lying on his stomach, covered in a ghillie suite. A rifle was buried deep in his shoulder pocket. Aj shook his head, slowing down his breathing. He looked around, and noticed he was in some kind of shack. Aj bent his head down and looked through the scope.
It was now apparent that the shack stood on a cliffs edge, the big city far below in the valley. But everything was different. The buildings shined, and glowed. Trees and grass grew from the ground. And there was fire, smoke, as two armies clashed. Overhead, ships of all sizes fought, ripping each other’s hulls apart with artillery the likes of which Mars had not seen in hundreds of years.
Realization dawned on Aj: this was the siege for the big city, the first one during the great war. The sky tore open, and Aj cringed as mushroom clouds erupted before him. The air blast smashed the shack, killing him instantly as his body dissolved.
Once again, he was flying, this time down a tunnel of bright red light. The tunnel ended, and again Aj opened his eyes. Bullets where cracking all around them, grey aircraft screamed by other head. Aj looked to his left and right and saw a dozen men in desert combat fatigues. There were lined up alongside a brown wall, in a town that seemed to be in the desert. A man walked around Aj.
“You ready man?” the warrior asked.
Aj hesitantly nodded. The man kicked in the door, and swung away as Aj went in first, rifle up. He saw a pair of eyes, and the front sights of a Russian rifle, followed by a bright flash and heinous bang. Darkness again. He was once again in the long tunnel of red, this time the journey slightly shorter as he again emerged from the red vision.
Aj was lying in a jungle, holding a wooden bodied rifle with metal components and an almost comically pyrimitate scope. He was wearing green and black tiger stripe camouflage. As he looked over, Aj noticed several other men, wearing black and green face paint. Green berets sat on their heads, as each man was armed to the teeth.
“On you, Thompson,” one of the men whispered.
Aj nodded and looked through the scope. Directly in the crosshairs, was a man of Earth Asian descent. Gold leaves on red patches were embroidered on his collar. Aj squeezed the trigger, and the man’s head collapsed. The column of enemy that had been patrolling down a trial in the jungle scattered. The men with Green Berets opened fire, a vicious onslaught as half the team picked up and pulled back.
Aj counted down from five, then jumped up and sprinted back through the brush, the other half of the group of men covering him. Aj got behind a tree, aimed, and fired as the other half picked up again. They continued this maneuver through the jungle for a kilometer, until Aj couldn’t see the enemy in his scope.
“Pick up!” one of the men roared.
Aj turned and sprinted forward. As he ran, his foot hit something. He didn’t have time to figure out what it was, as an explosion from the ground up ended his vision. Aj found himself flying down the red tunnel again. The journey continued, until he opened his eyes once again.
This time he was sitting down, surrounded by metal. It was so loud, and his helmet was snugged tightly to his head. He was reclined in a metal chair and looked around. It was clear now he was sitting in the gunner’s seat of an open top tank. As he looked around, noticed all the crew members were black, just like him. On Aj’s right, was the loading section of a massive cannon. On Aj’s left side, was a steel grey helmet, with a red and black patch. It looked like four angled lightning bolts, along with some iron cross medals, and a very fancy pistol.
“I’ll give ya two dollars for the luger, Jacobs!” a voice called.
Aj looked over, and saw a grease covered black man with three yellow stripes on his brown jacket. His eyes where bright, with a dark mustache as he leaned over the cannon.
“Shit, you aint got enough pocket lettuce for that jack. Add in a date with your sister and we got a deal!” Aj laughed.
“Fuck you man, ain’t coming on that tab,” the man rolled his eyes.
An explosion caught their attention. The crew ducked as the tank sped up.
“We got kraut amor up yonder!” the man with the yellow stripes roared through the radio.
Aj pivoted in his seat, yanking open the metal compartment behind his seat.
“Load A.P!” the commander yelled.
Aj pulled out a long brass shell with a solid black tip, he flipped the shell in his arms, as another man yanked on a lever by the cannon end. The back end of the cannon fell open, and Aj slammed the shell inside the cannon chamber, pulling his hands away with expertise as the cannon sealed.
“A.P loaded!” the other man roared.
Aj pressed his face against the cushioned gun sight, using his hands to crank levers as he screened the hedge lines for targets.
“Pivot fifteen degrees! Kraut armor by that red barn!” the man with the yellow stripes called.
Aj turned the turret, the sight shaking from the vibration of the tank moving forward as full speed.
“Slow the fuck down so the man can shoot!” one of the other crew men called.
“I got this,” Aj growled in his headset.
His sights rested on the slanted armor of a grey tank with a black and white cross painted unto the turret. Aj cranked the elver, moving the sights to the left as his tank sped down the road.
“On him!” Aj shouted.
“Fire!”
“On the way!”
The compartment erupted with a massive boom, as smoke filled the air. Aj kept his eyes on the sights, as the helper unlocked the cannon, pulled out the smoking shell, threw it on the green metal floor, then loaded another.
“Loaded!” the helper called.
Aj scanned to the right and saw his shot had hit his mark. The enemy tank’s turret had been flung far away, as fire billowed out from the open missing turret hole like a volcanic geyser.
“Hell of a shot!” the man with the yellow strips cheered.
The joy was momentary, as machine gun fire deafened them. Aj looked up. Their convoy was tearing the sky apart as black and yellow painted propeller planes dive bombed towards them. Bombs detached from the plane’s wings, and the crew and tank disappeared in a furious fire storm.
Aj was once again surrounded by red. What where these visions? Nameless had mentioned remembering past lives. Where these, Aj’s? Onward he spiraled until the red ended again.
He opened his eyes and looked around. Aj was clad in blue, marching in a line with nearly a hundred other black men also in blue uniforms. They wore black sloped hats, with a gold bugle on the top. Their belt buckles where polished, as each man’s rifle was shouldered, marching forward as one, bayonets affixed and sparkling in the hot summer sun. On Aj’s right, saw two men holding flags.
One of the flags had thirty-four white stars with a blue background. There were seven blood red stripes, with six pure white lines. The third red column down the flag had “54th regiment”, the four stripe down had “Massachusetts Vols,” both embroidered in bright gold lettering.
Besides the red, white, and blue flag, was a white flag with a blue shield. A red scroll with a phrase written in a language Aj couldn’t read lay below the blue shield. Centered on the blue background, was a black man in a white robe.
Ahead of the formation, a white man was waving a shiny sword. Aj looked beyond and saw a massive dirt mound ahead them. Like a fort, made from dirt and wood. Plumes of fire began erupting from the dirt walls, and explosions began tearing apart the men on Aj’s right and left. Aj looked over, saw many other formations of black soldiers led by white officers as they charged towards the fort by the sea.
The man in the front turned and faced the men.
“C’mon boys!” the officer cried.
The formation charged forward, as bullets and explosions cut men down left and right. Aj was in the front, as the flags waved in the wind. They reached a trench, bristling with large wooden steaks each the size of a grown man. The soldiers charged down into the wide moat like trench, as death rained down from above.
A soldier to Aj’s right cried out, falling into the murky water. Aj stumbled, reaching down trying to help the drowning and wounded man. Suddenly, a bright flash cut off his vision. Darkness followed by bright red overtook him as Aj continued on.
The red light faded, as a new vision appeared. Aj was kneeling in a dirt road. He looked down, and saw he was wearing pure white clothes, with red cuffs. A stiff tri cornered hat sat on his head, a wooden and iron single shot rifle in his hands. Black men in the same uniform where kneeling or laying behind the dirt mound that a white picket fence stood out of. Using the minimal rebut in the road as cover.
Aj looked over and saw two black bannermen. One waved a white flag with a blue anchor, the with thirteen stars behind a blue square. The other flag bearer waved a red, white and blue flag with thirteen stars in a circle. A white man in a blue coat with a black tri corner hat held a sword over his head.
“Pick yer targets lads! By gods good grace, Rhode Island shall not fall!” the white man in the blue coat cried out.
Aj looked to his left and right and saw hundreds of black men in white uniforms aim their muskets. Aj leaned forward, resting his rifle on the second rung of the fence. Down his sights, he saw hundreds of white men in red uniforms marching in formation towards them. Beyond the enemy formations, Aj could see a wide bay. Large wooden ships were sitting on the still water, with white sails, firing cannon from their sides unto the trenches over by a small hill.
“Fire!” the officer roared.
Aj squeezed the trigger and saw a man in a red coat fall not far from the fence. The enemy drummers picked up their beat, and the red formation leveled their bayonets. Aj pulled his musket back, and swiftly affixed his bayonet to the end of his rifle. His comrades followed suite.
The red uniformed formation charged, as Aj stood up. The two armies clashed, as the black men in white uniforms with black hats affixed with silver anchors beat back the enemy charge. The enemy was thwarted, retreating down the hill.
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Time passed, as the red coats regrouped. Aj saw a new enemy take the field, as men in blue coats lead by officers in green coats with pointy golden hats began marching forward. He could hear their commands; it sounded like the same language of the men he had killed when he had been in the tank. Krouts? Germans? Hessian? It didn’t matter, these men had landed on his shore, trying to kill him and his comrades. With fury and malcontent, they intended to charge the red, white and blue flag with thirteen stars. While Aj did not understand what was happening, he understood the weight behind the struggle. A nation was being borne, the weight of which resting squarely upon the shoulders of men like Aj.
“Ready!” the officer shouted.
Aj shoved the butt of his musket into the ground, slamming shot down the barrel with a metal rod, then gunpowder as he slowly reloaded the ridiculous weapon. It was so cumbersome, slow, primitive, yet he moved with expertise. As did the men on his left and right, their bodies moving with drilled precision.
“Aim!” the command went out.
Once again, Aj aimed.
“Fire!”
A mustached man in a green coat went down. Aj stood up; rifle gripped in his sweaty hands. The enemy charged, and once again Aj fought for his life. These men where far tougher than the men in red coats, as some of them managed to break through the lines. But they were swiftly cut down.
As the enemy retreated, the dead and dying black men were pulled away, as long columns of white men in mix matched uniforms ran past. They avoided eye contact with the black men in uniform, as they ran towards the small hill lined with trenches. Why weren’t they reinforcing Aj’s comrades? They both fought for the same flag.
Aj turned his head and saw the enemy once again amassing. Hours had passed, his mouth was dry, and his body ached. But he held firm.
“Ready!” the command sounded.
Aj aimed. The drum and fife beats sounded as the enemy marched with drilled precision into range. He leaned in, holding his breath, finger on the trigger.
The hundreds of enemies leveled their rifles too.
“Fire!”
Aj squeezed the trigger and watched as dozens of the enemy fell. The officers in the red coats swung down their swords, and Aj saw a wall of white smoke as the enemy fired. This time, a roaring pain erupted in Aj’s chest as he fell back. He bled to death there in that dirt road, as he watched his comrades beat back the third charge.
The vision darkened, this time the pace quickening. Visions began to speed up, like a film fast forwarded. He was lying in ambush in the bushes, as white soldiers in brown coats went by. Aj impaled one with a spear, before a musket went off killing him. He was now riding a horse, charging men in white armor with red crosses on the front. He impaled one, killing many others before being surrounded, ripped off his horse, and killed on the ground. The vision continued, he then was riding in a chariot, as the driver steered the horses, while Aj picked off soldiers with bull hide shields and leather armor with his bow.
The visions stopped, as he again entered the red tunnel. He was hurtling forward, the fastest he had gone yet. A bright light blinded him, then subsided. Aj opened his eyes and looked around. He was sitting on a throne, within a magnificent palace. His bottom torso was covered in a gold fur with black spots. Jewelry adorned his bare chest, as a staff lay in his right hand.
Before his throne stood many proud warriors with no shirts, merely tunics that covered from the abdomen to the knees. Women stood on the sides in bright dresses sewn with bright collars and jewelry. Everyone in the throne room had skin as black as night, their darting eyes studying Aj as he sat there. As Aj reclined on the throne, an old man in a purple tunic slowly crept up to his right side.
“The Ichthyophagoi are here, my lord,” the old man mumbled.
Aj nodded, gesturing with his hand.
The guards standing by the wide double wooden doors bowed and pulled them open. Olive skinned men with long bears and curly hair walked into the room. There were five of them, the lead one bearing the most jewelry. The men approached before Aj and bowed richly.
“Tell me, Persians. Why have you traveled so far?” Aj asked, his chin resting on his right fist.
“Our King, desiring friendship with mighty Ethiopia, has sent us bearing gifts which he himself delights in,” the lead Persian grinned.
Bald men in rich garment flooded into the room, carrying chests of precious metals, wild animals in cages, and baskets filled to the brim with rich tunics. Aj chuckled.
“Generous indeed is your lord. And what fruit does he believe this flaunt of wealth shall bear?” Aj asked.
The lead Persian bore a crooked smile, one that only a soft man born into leisure could produce.
“From the gardens of Babylon to the halls of the Pharaohs, the prowess of the Numidian archer is known. Our lord shall soon march on the Kingdom of the Nile. He wishes, for your brave warriors to accompany his mighty host,” the Persian Ambassador chimed, arms held wide.
The court shifted uneasily as Aj nodded, thumb pressed against his chin. His father, and his father’s father had fought alongside the Pharaohs. The alliance had been struck long before this palace’s first stone had been laid. Aj sighed and stood up.
He reached down and picked up his bow. He walked down the steps, and approached the ambassador, who’s eyes darted up and down. Aj was nearly a foot taller and wider than the skinny olive-skinned man in rich clothes.
“When the first Pharaoh my people met drew our bow, we knew he was worthy of our strength. Take it Persian, and draw its string,” Aj nodded, holding up the ornate and sturdy bow nearly the size of the Persian.
The man’s eyes widened, as he carefully grasped the bow. He held it up and tried to pull back the string. The man’s face reddened as he struggled, unable to pull the string back even halfway. The court snickered as Aj laughed heartedly.
“Take my bow back to your king. When a Persian is able to draw its string, that will be the day we march alongside your army of slaves and weak armed women disguised as men,” Aj barked.
The Persians backed away; eyes wide as the lead ambassador clutched the massive wooden bow. He nodded to his servants, and the Persians began to pack up the gifts. Aj held up his hand, and every guard instantly draw their bows, and notched arrows, aiming at the Persians.
“And tell your king, we are thankful for his generous gifts. We shall put it to good use, as the armies of the Nile gather,” Aj grinned.
The Persians hesitantly nodded and retreated out of the courtroom. Aj laughed, as the vision darkened.
He was once again floating in darkness. The glimpses into Aj’s past lives shook him to his very core. He had been so many things. A warrior above all, but in his first life, he had been a king. He recalled watching the Persian Army fall to his kin’s arrows, as the Egyptian chariots and infantry charged forward. It was not until hundreds of years after his first death that the Persian Empire enveloped his first-born country.
As he drifted, Aj pondered. What did all of this mean? He had never dreamed of being in charge of anyone, yet in all of his lives, he had always held some sort of authority. Nameless had put him in charge of organizing the leadership of the free army back on Mars during the war. Perhaps Aj did have it within himself to lead.
Who would he guide? He was most likely dead now, a failure as he drifted. So long as Lion remained a Vagabond, Aj could no longer be one. That life was over. Should he ever lay eyes on Lion again, Aj would kill the prodigal prince. If he was no longer a vagabond, soldier, or king, what was he now. Nothing. Aj was absolutely nothing,
A warm feeling overwhelmed him, as his body began to dissolve. So, this was it, this was death. Soon, he would sit at the high table of the gods, hold Sammy and their unborn child again. Aj smiled, shutting his eyes, as he accepted his fate.
As Aj drifted away into the ether, far distant laughter fell on his ears. He opened his eyes, and noticed far off in the distance, in a window like portal, was Shrikes face. He was jeering, and laughing loudly, pointing down wards towards the portal. Aj’s eyes widened, as he realized that must have been his last view from his no doubt destroyed body on Barouge.
Anger erupted inside Aj as he gritted his teeth. No, not like this. Aj would not end this life, lying on the floor of Shrike’s Mansion, being laughed at. He may have had nothing left, was no none, had no one left. But there was still what he had set out to do.
Aj looked up, and saw Shrike was waving around one of Aj’s custom-made bullets, showing it to his minions as he cackled. Aj roared, as his body reformed. Fire exploded in the dark void, surrounding Aj as he drifted. He focused on the portal, willing himself to move. At first nothing happened, but then, ever so slowly, he began to inch closer to the portal. At first, he moved inches, then feet, soon he was flying, barreling, hurtling towards the looming portal as his speed increased. Aj held out his open grip, aiming for Shrike’s throat as he plunged into the portal.
Shrike tossed the bullet over his shoulder, scoffing. At his feet, the burnt featureless corpse of Aj sizzled. The prime shrugged, leaning down, inspecting the smoldering husk of a body. The Shrike replicants and Dark Axium officers silently stood in a circle around the two.
“Odd. He didn’t even make a sound,” Shrike Prime arched an eyebrow.
“Perhaps the Vagabonds truly are as formidable as the savages claim,” a dark hooded woman murmured.
“Pure propaganda, spouted from the mouths of ignorant children. Speak such lies in my presence again, and I will cut out your tongue,” Shrike barked.
The hooded woman solemnly nodded, as Shrike poked the charred corpse with the tip of his golden sword. The melted flesh concaved, with a stomach-churning squish.
“Still, I must admit, it is rather peculiar he just collapsed in flames without a peep. Must be a bad batch,” Shrike sighed.
Shrike leaned over the corpse, inspecting it. He shook his head in exasperation. He looked over at one of his replicants.
“Someone clean this up, and pre-HURGH!” Shrike yelped.
The puppet master’s words where cut of, as Aj’s hand shot upward and clamped on Shrike’s jugular.
“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Aj roared.
Fire erupted from Aj’s body, as the charred and mangled skin regrew, grey as fog as Aj launched upward. The circle of people scattered, most engulfed in flame as fire shot out in all directions from Aj’s body like a jet engine.
The puppet master flailed and gurgled, as his hair and clothes caught fire. Aj began punching Shrike Prime as hard as he could. BAM! Shrike’s nose was flattened. BAM! Aj hit the puppet master so hard in the face the left eyeball exploded, the socket concaving. BAM, BAM, BAM!
Shrike stumbled backward, falling onto the ground with Aj on top. Shrike Prime twisted and struggled, his energy flickering as he tried desperately to reach his true form. Aj was wailing as hard as he could into the Puppet Master with both flaming fists. His wide, empty eyes not blinking, spit falling from his gritted teeth as he struck again and again.
A massive yellow beam of light slammed into Aj’s chest, sending him flying back across the room. Shrike pounced to his feet, as his body shimmered. The air buzzed with energy, as Shrike growled. The seven-foot-tall blonde man grew long, leathery wings, a crown of golden roses on his blonde head as his Laydren Lord form showed. A thousand light bearers’ energies coursed through Draycerion’s veins as he reached his full form.
“I will not be undermined by an abomination!” Shrike shouted, pointing his shining gold sword.
Aj leapt forward, running on all fours as he screeched. His mind was blank, all he saw was red as fire billowed out from cracks in his foggy grey skin. Aj tackled Shrike, while the puppet master drove his sword deep into Aj’s gut.
The two dueled in a grueling battle to the death, as Aj tore away at Shrike. The Puppet Master landed more strikes, but no matter how many times he stabbed the undead sniper, no matter how many bolts of energy he sent thundering across the room into Aj, the flaming grey man still got back up. Charging forward with the fury and tenacity of a thousand men.
Aj was flung back, across the room, as Draycerion flung a lightning bolt into his chest. Using the brief lull in the fight, Shrike held his sword with both hands over his head, gathering full strength as the buildup of power became blinding, filling the room with bright light. As he built up, Aj charged forward again on all fours. Rage was his fuel, pain was his motive, vengeance was the goal. The vengeance filled, cracked skin, embers emerging from the flesh of his withered form sniper, tackled the Shrike prime. The room shattered, as an explosion tore the entire Mansion level apart. Like the splitting of an atom, when a light bearer’s full measure attack is interrupted, the results can be catastrophic. It requires a nearly incomprehensible amount of concentration, skill, and aim, but Aj did it. The energy eruption shattered the building, leveling the walls and ceilings, as debris flowed like water from a broken damn down unto the city below.
Shrike fell like a burning angel from heaven, down into the destroyed city far below. The Dark Axium members fled the now burning Mansion, many instantly getting shot down by the surprised Zion military far below. Back up amid the flames, rubble shifted.
Aj pushed a support beam off himself and gazed out of the gaping open hole in the side of the mansion that overlooked the habitation level. He slowly walked forward, as his anger subsided. Despite standing amidst roaring flame, he felt no pain. Only grief. Smoke and fog slowly overcame his naked body, forming black robes with grey lining.
He looked down and saw odd runes in a language he could read form in his skin, like open wounds that exuded embers and small flame. Aj sighed, closing his fists as he studied himself. How fitting, that Shrike’s greatest creation, would become his downfall.
A scratching in the back of his mind tore Aj’s thoughts away from Shrike. He couldn’t see them, or hear them, but he sensed hundreds of eyes peering at him. Aj turned and walked into the burning Mansion. As the walls crumbled, he walked through the smoke and flame.
He emerged in the lobby of the burning oven of a building, where a handful of shrike replicants were trying to flee with their wounded. Upon seeing the specter emerge from the flame, they opened fire. Aj waved his hand, and a catastrophic storm of flame shot forward, engulfing the Shrike’s as they screamed and burned to death. Aj walked past their charred corpses, exiting the mansion.
Aj slowly emerged from the burning ruins of the mansion, the habitation level lying behind him. He faced an open and dark area illuminated by the burning building. The area was shaped like a canyon, with both sides lined by massive walls that spanned upward as far as the eye could see. In the center of the canyon, was pitch darkness.
Aj could feel them, as they huddled in the dark, watching. Aj knelt and held out his hand.
“Come forth,” Aj whispered in a hoarse voice.
Slowly, a Foul shuffled into view, carefully creeping towards him on all fours like an animal. The Foul tilted their featureless, burnt head, studying the grey hand.
Chattering filled the air, as hundreds of Foul slowly came towards Aj. They could not speak, for they had no tongues. They could not see since their eyes were gone. Their hearing was nearly gone, due to the loss of their ears. To the average person, the foul would seem like pathetic, horribly scarred creatures who had once been people. But Aj knew better.
He knew they all saw, heard, and smelt better than anything else. Their heightened senses, coupled with a sonar like vision from their chattering, and extremely durable physiques, made them like him. Undead warriors who had emerged from the flame born anew.
Aj looked beyond the huddled masses and noticed smaller Foul hiding in the background. Small creatures who at one point been women, and children. This band of undead where not some hapless horde of wondering failed science experiments. The Foul where a tribe, in desperate need of a leader.
Aj stood up and looked back. Somewhere, down there, the Puppet Master was licking his wounds. Regrouping, preparing to strike. But Aj sensed Nameless, Spider, Rachel, Alexander, Thaddeus. Their will was strong, and they too were here to kill the Puppet Master. He wanted to go down there and join them. To avenge Sammy and their child.
He turned his head again and studied the crowd before him. As he measured the Foul, he felt their fear, their loss, their desperation. He had done his duty. Though he had not managed to kill Shrike, he had paved the way for his former comrades to succeed where he had failed.
Aj pulled up his hood, and walked forward, the foul parting for him, and then following, as the hooded specter walked into the darkness. That night, Aj had died in that Mansion. In a short time, a tombstone marked with his name would rest besides Sammy and their daughter underneath the old Oak.
Aj was forever gone, as Carnage led his people into the bowels of Barouge.