"These warriors seem to be of no threat to us, quite unfitting of the word vagrant really." I say, directing those words to Inora who slightly flinches under my stare.

"Agreed, it does seem my encounter earlier today has clouded my judgement," she admits.

The four strange warriors made no attempts to add to the conversation, seemingly content to stand in constant vigil much to my intrigue. Even when compared to the ruthless and stubborn attitude of those from the Black Hand Cohorts, these warriors are unusually stoic. Perhaps this is a hint as to how different these people truly are?

I turn to regard this Richard person. His name is equally odd as his bearing, resembling no other cultures from within the known lands. They are strangers by blood and customs.

"Our fortress city Drossal, it is to the west, that is where we may have further talks between our people, as respected as my prestige affords, I do not have the blessings to represent the people of Euralia."

"We understand," He quickly replies, remaining still as the Life Menders remove the various mending seals on his skin.

I make my thoughts clear after a moment of silence, "On behalf of the army, I apologize for our harsh treatments, we mistook you for our enemies due to your... appearance."

He slowly nods, hiding more than a grimace if those eyes are to be trusted, "It is all behind me now, what can you tell me about these enemies of yours?"

I fold my arms, gifting him the answer, "Yhunian Federation, they desire the lands to our east, to take hold of the hollowed grounds of antiquity."

"We believe it is where the Royal family first settled in, marking the beginning of our Kingdom... many thousands of starwheels ago. Now, our enemies wish to persue these lands for the three rivers that flows to the northern seas, something that is unacceptable to us if we are to respect our heritage," I pause, my words dripping with frustration.

"Sharing these lands is not an option as well, so conflict was inevitable....but to think they would launch a surprise invasion so swiftly. I suppose the power of trade and ambition spurs even the most noble of hearts," I scowl as past memories surfaced.

The federation's wanton desire for a new port this far west of their borders is simply a mirage of something grander.

Untold seasons of pointless theatrics failed to settle grievances and mistrust on both sides. The only recourse to such pointless dither is inevitably war.

The sounds of hurried footsteps melts away the ice that kept my attention frozen within me. I turn to the door, just in time to see a messenger panting in exhaustion as he came through it. The runner's legs trembled, but his eyes wandered across the ward. With a small wave, I prompt his gaze to mine.

His eyes sparkles with a faint relief, "Pardon the intrusion Lord General, but our eastern patrols have returned early. The highlanders bear urgent tidings!" The runner offers after wading from across the mending ward.

I do not like that tone. These voices are common, and herald only hardship to those under my behest. "What dreadful news do they bear this time. Speak," I demand, arms folded.

The entire atmosphere of the healing ward changes drastically as those words resonate throughout the confined space. Wounded soldiers scowled, their fists clenching. Life menders work tirelessly regardless, their eyes now cast with the shadows of burden.

He musters his courage and begins, "Three Yhunian Regiments are bound westwards, our highlanders think the first raids will be by Spearhead riders. Chemical flasks were sighted beneath their wyverns."

"Their arrival is to be expected just after sunrise," The messenger ended in a grim tone, deathly silence is observed on everyone in response to these words.

So they plan to attack us as the sun rises, we shall be facing the enemy as the radiant light of dawn shines down on the battlefield, how quaint.

It is time we prepare for their arrival then....

I turn towards the visitors, all four of them, pushing aside my darkened musing.

"It is fruitless for you lot to linger further, I must ask that you all leave, for our enemies are on the prowl as we speak," I urge them.

The Maiden Priest translates my words to the grey warriors on my behalf, it is only then they show movement, nodding in understanding as they turn towards the two former prisoners.

"If what the guy says is right, we'll need to move now, our priorities right now are to bring you two back to the Forward Outpost," One of the warriors says with a confident tone.

That must be the leader, of that I am sure of.

I turn towards my two personal guards. "Please escort these warriors to our gates, I must forge an appropriate response to the impending raids."

They placed their fists over their hearts in acknowledgement, "By your decree, it shall be done."

I briefly stop my stride to stand in front one of my guards. "Tell the Flightwing garrison to spare a Silverwing rider to stalk them, I must know where they come from. Secrets kept in the shadows are ones I refuse to ignore," I discreetly whisper, placing an armored hand on his shoulder pauldron.

His only acknowledgement came in the form of a soft nod, barely discernable unless one has a keen eye.

I make my way towards the messenger, "I shall be on my way now, summon all the Officers and Lord Captains and tell them of my intentions, we've much to do in the warring chamber."

"I will see it done!"

I continue the strides unbound to the ebb of time, passing by the proud soldiers of Euralia, as thoughts of the upcoming battle begin to flood my thoughts.

Three days, I just have to hold the line for three more days.

Reinforcements are coming, I must not fail. For both the kingdom, as well as the royal family.....

==Jerome's POV==

The entire room had a different tone to it after what that guy said. It was subtle, but it was there in the air. They all seem to share the same determined, yet resigned look. There was evidently more to this than I currently understand.

The female translator turns around, walking with pristine elegance and grace. Her white dress enhanced her uncanny appearance as she closes in. Those grey eyes were admittedly attractive that much is clear, even with the odd reptilian morphology of her pupils.

She stops right in front of us and speaks in passable, but heavily accented English, "It is dangerous for you all to stay here, my Lord General has decreed that you all leave, for our enemies are on the prowl as we speak."

I give my reply in the form of a curt nod, before turning towards the two survivors of Expedition six.

"If what that guy says is right, we'll need to move now, our priorities right now are to bring you two back to the Forward Outpost." I explain.

"You two able to walk?" Douglas questions the two survivors.

"Yes."

"I'm able to."

"Excellent, these two guards shall escort you out," The female translator trails off, walking away in a different direction. Her ethereal visage disappears behind a pair of heavily armoured soldiers.

I turn towards my men, "Lets go, we're leaving this place," I declare, trailing behind the pair of guards as they led the way.

I keep my sharp eyes on the distinctive attire they wore, highly intrigued by such an eye catching design. Aside from the basic colour scheme, the soldiers have a distinctive armor configuration when compared to the rest of the populace.

There is little that could escape my notice. Leering at the armor's rather impressive make, the visually menacing curves present throughout their metallic frame easily towers over all the minor details. The design is interesting, if nothing else.

Finding it fruitless to ponder any longer, I push that thought to the back of my mind as the sounds of the injured fade with each step taken. I didn't need to look back to know that my team is following my lead, the heavy footsteps pattering behind is all the reassurance I need to keep moving forward.

I keep up the reserved persona as I walk, eyes constantly surveying for threats, hands tightly holding onto both the rifle's main and forward grip, and index finger resting not too far from the trigger.

A familiar face from the peripherals catches my attention. The sudden bout of recognition stifles my movement as I glare at the women.  It might be someone else, but the features are there.

I stop the stride, swiveling around to fully face her. She begins to show the telltale signs of surprise, eyes wide as saucers as she looks at my still visage.

"She's the same one from before, at least I think so," I comment, index curling against the trigger guard. Robert snaps in with a grunt.

"You're right," he says, offering the stunned women a cold glare, "she's the asshole from before."

"Only one way to settle this," James interjects, raising a hand forward. Utilizing the most adaptable gesture known to mankind, James issues the unknown women a small piece of his mind in the dainty form of an extended middle finger.

The brief display is followed by a short stint of insults. The words held venom, but also a hint of humor as James retracts his finger.

I shake my head looking at my fellow operative, "Was that really necessary? I say.

"Maybe," the man shrugs, falling back to a reserved demeanor.

It is clear this would amount to nothing, so I ignore the women after giving her one last seething glare through my black visor. The urge to send my own regards with the finger is there, but I keep the notion down.

Averting my gaze, I continue following the escorts out the medical ward, and soon out the gates as well. The tall grass beneath my feet danced to the invisible tune of the midnight breeze, creating an alluring sense of peace when combined with the dark skies above.

The guards turned tail and left, sparing subtle glances at me and my soldiers as they left us to our own devices.

Once those two went inside the complex, the gate slowly begins to close. I stare at the soldiers within as they moved with a clear sense of urgency, until the gates completely sealed off the interior.

They aren't inherently hostile after all, simply misunderstood.

I look at Robert, "Signal our status. Brass needs to come get us."

"Already on it."

I turn towards the two scientists. "It will be dark for at least two more hours, try to hover around us. Plenty of ways to get killed out here as I'm sure you're aware."

"I know your name is Richard, what about you sir?" I curiously inquire, attention drawn to the other man's fatigued state.

"The name is Williams..." He laments, struggling to stay awake.

"Understood," I acknowledge promptly. The guy looks barely half alive.

I then turn back to the communication specialist, "Any luck contacting them?"

"Still trying, the rough terrain might be blocking the radio waves." Robert informs me.

"We need to get to higher ground then." Douglas suggests.

Instinctively, my team groups into a loose circle, prompting the two scientists to mimic our movements.

I haven't forgotten about that expendable drone I have set up on our original position, perhaps with its birds eye view, we might be able to find a suitable elevation to broadcast our signal.

With a successful Uplink with the recon drone's sensor array, I pick out an ideal location, just 2 kilometers away to our immediate south. My team took slow and measured steps to make sure we didn't lose track of our VIP's.

Due to our slow pacing, it takes a significant amount of time traversing through the foliage, but we eventually make it to the site, which is sparsely populated by trees and towering over the surrounding lands.

I look above to the night sky as Robert's voice booms on the team channel, "Central Command, this is Desert Four, are you receiving? I say again this is Desert Four, are you receiving?"

I wait with bated breath, everyone did. The two researchers are already struggling to stand on their two feet as it is, let alone make the arduous trip back on foot. It was obvious the two were running fumes. 

Robert presses on, "Central command do you read? This is Desert Four."

Our signal should be able to reach the communication array on the peaks of the mountains, around the forward outpost. Everyone stayed silence, funneling our attention to our own radio receivers, waiting for a voice come through.

"Operator Wilson on station, signal's a little choppy," the voice begins, "still readable. What have you got for us?"

"We're here at the site of interest. Successful first contact has seen been made with the locals. We have confirmation they're holding the remaining survivors of Expedition six inside the stronghold," Robert pauses, allowing the radio operator to take in the snippet.

"There's too much to explain, but we have the survivors. Just two, Richard and Williams. The rest are confirmed dead. We're requesting immediate exfil," He explains.

"Roger, I'll swing your request to the airwing. Hold on for a minute, out," The radio operator remarks, cutting the line temporarily.

"There's bound to be a few pilots on stand by duty," I say, opting to crash the silence with idle conversation. "Command isn't dumb enough to leave us for the night."

Robert paces around setting a finger at the dim lights of the encampment. "We've just made contact with the assholes who murdered four innocent people. It could have gone a lot worse."

I shrug, seeing his point. "Doesn't make for a good impression, yeah."

He shakes his head and plants down his feet, "No it doesn't. In any case we can't be taking any chances with the wildlife. Some of the larger dragons could tear us to shreds."

"You're still insisting on using that word?" I roll my eyes, "You know, saying that just makes you sound stupid. They're just lizards with wings."

"Not my fault no one's come up with a professional term after six fucking months," Robert nudges me with an elbow.

The light-hearted banter continues for several minutes, stopping only with the return of a familiar voice through the team's channel.

"A JU-29 Humming Bird's currently being refueled for immediate departure, I'd assume you guys want pick up near the site?" The radio operator questions intently.

Robert answers immediately, "Correct, just two clicks south of it."

"Understood, estimated time to arrival is 0520 hours, over."

"Acknowledged, Desert Four out."

I heave out a sigh of relief, turning to face the rest of the team. "That's one thing settled."

"Excuse me," someone inquires from the side.

Turning to the source, I make no attempts to rebuke as the researcher settles down beside me. "What is it?" I reply, staring down at the man's weary form. A brief glance over his face confirms the man's identity.

"Someone flipped off a female soldier, not sure if it was you or someone else. Why though?" Richard asks, sitting cross-legged on the ground.

I gesture at myself, pulling his attention up, "That's, hard to explain actually. As for it why it happened though..." I trail off, recalling the chaotic nature of that brief firefight.

I decide to sit down, meeting his eyes on equal footing. "We found your head cam, it showed us what exactly happened to you and your expedition," I pause, noting the small frown tugging on his lips.

"Shortly afterwards we came into contact with those guys. Someone from their side fired the first shot, and the rest is history. That women was one of them. Flipping her off might seem odd, but it's appropriate for a lack of a better word. Like I said, it's hard to explain," I shrug.

"I see..." He slowly nods, beckoning me to continue.

I oblige, "It's probably just the heat of the moment. I don't even think she even knows what the finger means."

His eyes lower to the ground. "These people aren't dumb, I can attest to that over the many hours I've been trapped here. For what it's worth, I think the women might eventually get it."

I shake my head, glaring at the distant source of lights. "Whatever the case, it's all behind us now. A Humming Bird's on its way to fetch us. Hopefully this marks the end of our stint with them."

Though it was wistful thinking at best, I still entertain the thought. The quiet night made this a good time to think about what lies ahead for all of us.

===0524 hours, Standard Military Time===

"There's our ride, are we going to pop flares or what?" Richard calls out to me as the strobe lights of the rotorwing comes into view.

I shake my head, "No need, smoke won't do us any good. They'll just track us by IFFs."

James and Douglas keep up the perimeter watch, maintaining their station as the downwash stirs up dirt around them. I rally them towards my position as the rotor-wing descends over the canopy, landing gears already deployed in anticipation for a quick drop.

The two researchers immediately bolt off into the passenger cabin, securing themselves inside the compartment without a second thought at safety. The brief heart-attack I sustained over watching their heads passing just beneath the still active rotors stirs my legs into action.

There was barely an inch between the high-velocity blades and them. The very thought of witnessing someone's head reduced to human paste is enough to rile up a wave of unease, and gives me more than enough ammunition to belittle their actions if I choose to go that route.

It was an option I kept open, but decided to let it go for the moment. I rally the rest of the team and settle inside, starting a head count as each operative enters the helicopter.

"... three!" Douglas sounds off, shutting the door behind him.

"That's all of us, take us up," I call out to the pilots over the intercom.

"Copy, hang tight."

The helicopter takes off, the sudden momentum forcing me into the seat as everyone settles down inside the cabin. I continuously think back to that peaceful encounter, sitting underneath the dim auxiliary lights. The dark red was a welcome addition, providing a sense of reprieve as I lean back to rest for the remainder of the flight.

Dipping my head down for some shut-eye, I entertain a final muse before the ambience fades to a distant afterthought. Maybe it all is a dream. This was nothing but the brain screwing itself over. There is always a chance it could be true, even now.

The outside world was gone from my senses, and the crude grip of slumber was poised to bring me further away. That is the plan until an outburst jolts me back to the present after an unknown period of time.

"What the hell do you mean the base is under attack?!" The pilot yells frantically, voice temporarily overtaking the constant drone of the rotor engines.

I look up disoriented, but rapidly gaining my bearings. 'Attacked?'

Pushing through the daze, I call out to the lone pilot. "Pilot, ask them what do the aggressors look like, such as their colour!"

He looks back in mild surprise before giving a small nod, now talking into the headset in a more composed, professional tone befitting of an actual pilot.

"Initial reports states they are blue and yellow, where are you getting at?"

I wave a hand dismissively, masking the passing nervousness. "Fuck, give me your headset! I need a link to brass right now!"

I stand up from my seat and poke my head through the gap in the wall separating the passenger cabin from the cockpit, eagerly taking the headset from the pilot's hands.

"New Eden Command, this is UN Special Operations Group Desert. We'll drop off in close proximity to the base, inform any defending units of our arrival over!" I declare loudly into the headset.

I continue on, my voice now settling on a hardened edge. "We're still combat capable and will assist in repelling all hostile actions."

The reply comes in swiftly, adding to the layer of urgency I felt. "Roger that Desert, ETA to insertion over?"

Lacking the information, I look to the pilot, " ETA to base?"

"Three minutes," he replies, focused squarely ahead.

"Deployment will be in three minutes," I pause and wait for further instructions to come in, enduring the apprehension that seemed to resonate with the silence.

"Understood, be advised the situation is highly unstable, passive scans put the enemy count in the high 20's, maybe lower 30's, they're inside the mountains as we speak!" the radio operator informs me, a hint of fear evident in his voice.

I hold the mike closer to my mouth. "We're not going anywhere. Hold on as long as possible," I finish with a reassuring tone.

"Fuck me," James mutters with a loud grunt. "We better get a raise after this."

Returning the headset back to the pilot, I pace back to my seat. "We'll need more than that," I comment, getting everyone's attention, "intel is weak, but we're looking at three or four squads worth of hostiles. Nothing concrete about their IDs so far."

"So we don't know who we're dealing with then?" Douglas says, sparing a cold glance through his peripheral.

I sigh, "We'll know for sure once we get there."

===0606 Standard Military Time===

The ride made a swift touchdown just outside the circle of mountains. After a solid bump, I slide open the door and motion everyone out. The sounds of constant gunfire resonates overhead, planting firm opposition to any notion of hesitance.

Everyone settles into a group circle as a headcount begins. "... six and seven," Robert points to me last, "we're all accounted for."

I stare at the pilot, "Are you armed?"

He shakes his head, that is all I needed to confirm my suspicions, no holsters or sidearms anywhere on his form, just the typical outfit of a military pilot.

"Alright then," I reply, reaching down to my thigh. Pulling out a sidearm, I give the weapon a brief look before offering it to the pilot. Though some would consider the HK45 to be past its prime, I still considered the weapon to be a relevant addition to any practical loadout.

"Self defense," I elaborate after noting the confusion on his face.

"Gun's armed, you have 10 shots. Might be a little dated, but it still works," I add, relinquishing the weapon to his care.

I look at the two researchers, looking like lost sheep and point at them, "Protect these two at all costs, my guys will be with me to repel the assault, you'll be on your own until we secure the mess on the other side."

The pilot cradles the weapon in his hands, showing reasonable weapons discipline. "Got it, good luck on whatever you plan to do."

"Thanks, until we give you the all clear, maintain radio and audio silence," Douglas sternly informs the man.

I signal my men into the tight wedge. "We will leg it from here to the base. There's a low pass not far from where we are."

Robert steps to the front, "I'll take front. On me."

Pushing forward we set a hard pace through the dense vegetation to reach the nearby pass. The sounds of gunfire echoes through the narrow passage as we advance closer to the site of the engagement. No one spoke out of turn, not a single one willing to break the tension.

It was all in preparation for the battle ahead.

===0625 Standard Military Time===

-Northern outskirts of Forward base

Our legs were in perpetual motion, propelling the combined weight of both our bodies and armor, greatly assisted by our exoskeleton as we listen in on the chaotic calls of the few combat capable units.

Calls for reinforcements and retreats were desperately beamed through the rift, travelling through the communication relay that allowed us to contact the rest of humanity back on earth.

Breaking into the interior, the sight of a base under siege is all but apparent. The eastern sections are reduced to rubble.

The distinct lack of ambient lighting indicates a full collapse of the electrical grid. Several of the new buildings crumble under their own weight, their foundations crippled by an, as now unidentified means of attack.

The western side thankfully has little to no damage, it served as the focal point of defense the fledgling base had against the unexpected assault.

The helmet's IFF system immediate went to work, identifying all allied units in a matter of seconds, highlighting their forms with a soft outline of blue.

There were only nine soldiers, not a good number, there should be three more, where are they?

"All forces, be advised Fireteam Desert is advancing in from the northern pass. Check your fire in that sector," The familiar voice of the radio operator booms over the local channel.

"Twenty six unknowns positioned at the former armory, they've got some kind of shielding mechanism," Robert points to the left, issuing the enemy's position over radio.

I link up with the local battle-net, hammering the intended plan down to every surviving trooper, "Fireteam desert to all remaining forces, provide suppressive fire. Keep the hostiles pinned as we swing around to their northern flank!"

Hearing no audible response, I motion Robert to continue leading the convey, trusting the UN regulars to follow the instructions unconditionally.

Fast moving tendrils of blue projectiles flew from the eastern side of the base, showering the western positions with intense heat. Not to be outdone however, the UN peacekeepers give it their all, pushing aside their fears and retaliating with a coordinated hail of bullets, smashing holes into their translucent barrier in several places.

I run as fast as my legs could afford, keeping up with the others. The omnipresent fixture of the rift is always in the peripheral as I stare down menacingly at the enemy. Its glowing visage was a stark fixture in the raging chaos of tracer rounds and blue projectiles. 

It takes roughly a minute to get into a good position behind the enemy formation. Planting my chest to the ground, I set up an excellent overwatch between two trees at the flanks. Hovering over the sights, the visor's passive system feeds me the appropriate visuals to discern the enemies' formation against concrete. With a single cue, I was ready to open fire.

"Ready," I sound off through local comms, urging the team to hasten their efforts. With their rear undefended, this is a golden opportunity to deliver the strike without any fear of retaliation.

"Likewise," Douglas answers in kind, followed immediately by James and Robert further to the far right.

Needing no further pleasantries, I pull tightly on the trigger. Gunfire chatters to life. The constant stream of bullets races out the barrel, hurtling into the enemy's rear with every intention of administering lethal force into anyone unlucky enough to be in their trajectory.

The blood curdling screams echo with every shot. Bodies fall in droves, taking down more of the ambient shielding mechanism with each subsequent loss. Finding the results encouraging, I lean closer to the scope, further intensifying my efforts to cull their numbers.

The process of killing is systematic and almost painfully easy. Panic begins to set in within the surviving ranks, quickly turning the already tentative formation into a rout. The shattered entourage of armor loses all semblance of discipline and organization, swiftly bolting into the armory and giving up any form of retaliation.

I ease up on the trigger, attempting to survey the area ahead in the wake of the ambush. None of the targets still painted by the visor are moving.

"Desert Actual to New Eden command, hostile force mostly incapacitated, requesting further instructions." My words are met with silence.

I try again, "Command, this is Desert Actual do you read me over?"

I expect a reply from command, only to be met with the familiar voice of Narkis through the local battle-net, the leader of Fireteam Angel. "This is Angel Actual, good to see you're alive and well."

Pressing ahead, I pull out an inquiry. "What's going on with New Eden's command team?"

"They're on the other side. Relay's been destroyed, contact with Cygnus is impossible unless someone heads through the Rift."

"Understood, h-how many guys did we lose?" I ask, preparing to recieve his account of the battle.

The next few seconds were long and heavy as I listen closely. "Four from engineering, and two soldiers. Likely a third as well, he's barely conscious. Forth degree burns over his chest and arms. Might be more, I don't know."

"Dammit." I curse under my breath, with anger seeping through to my voice.

At least seven lives snuffed out in a span of less than an hour...

Mourning them can wait, for now though, we have to flush the remaining hostiles out of the building. I push myself up, keeping my index postured over the trigger.

"On me, we're ratting the last of these fuckers out," I issue, motioning for my team to rally behind.

Creeping up to the wall, I opt to stay in place until the steps behind fall silent. The entrance lies a few feet ahead. Under the eerie silence I snap forward and turn into the threshold, pushing into the building, auxiliary lights punching through the darkness.

The others maneuver through the partially melted door, maintaining an aggressive pace with well practiced footwork. Each corner is thoroughly checked with all angles of approach closely watched. 

"Left clear!" Douglas hollers.

"Right clear!" Robert declares likewise.

"Weapons' bay cleared!" I affirm, "Move up."

Cones of light seared its way further into the darkness, allowing us to pick up the trail of blood. I follow the ominous patch of red up a flight of stairs, passing several rooms down an empty hallway. The trail leads up to the end, turning at the last room with the sounds of voices muffled, but evident.

"Contact ahead!" I alert with a yell, "Last room."

I maneuver around the doorframe, ready to open fire if necessary. Four soldiers beam up from the floor, their backs arching against the far corner wall. The helmet's auxiliary lights glare down at them, revealing a dark patch of blood pooling beneath the group.

A single body, barely moving is centred around them, barely conscious, if at all. 

"Don't move!!" Douglas bellows out as he enters.

I look down at the still body, noting it's identity as a wounded female. She is without question the source of the thick pool of blood. Her shallow wheezing sounded forced and involuntary. Up on her face, her eyes are delirious, and shows no obvious signs of awareness.

"Four survivors, including one incapacitated," James comments, attention fixed squarely on the latter, "she's got a junctional wound on her upper thighs. Heavy arterial bleeding for sure."

If the anatomy of these locals are similar to us, it is safe to consider her a lost cause. Her femoral artery seems to have been punctured, and with no advance form of medical care within reach, the woman is bound to die of hypovolemic shock.

"She won't survive," James echoes my sentiments.

I make a quiet, but difficult decision in that moment, "I know."

Mustering the courage, I raise my rifle straight at the woman's face and deliver a single round between her eyes. The lone shot reverberates through the room and I watch her limbs briefly jerk before going limp permanantly.

Her head lulls to the side, revealing a messy exit wound at the base of her occipital bone behind her skull. More blood and other additional cranial fluids seep out, adding to the already gory mess beneath her.

The silence takes hold, and I reflect on my actions. Out of nowhere a masculine cry, full of vengeance freezes my train of thought. A large mass punches right into me.

I feel myself being tackled with immense force, knocking me off balance and onto the floor, stern punches were aimed at my helmet repeatedly. The rapid concussive blows dampened my perception of the sudden assault.

I give my own jabs, aimed at various points out of desperation, attempting to shake off the assailant. I change tactics and plant both my feet on his torso, in conjunction with my augmented strength from the exoskeleton, I push against him, sending the man crashing against the wall.

I rub my neck to ease the strain, muttering a string of apt curses under my breath, "Fucking asshole."

I pull out my remaining sidearm with half a mind to empty the entire clip onto the man. Additional shots ring out in the room, aimed at the man who tackled me. He falls onto the floor after he made his dent on the wall.

Several more ring out for good measure, planting a firm end to the man's brief stint of violence. Most of the shots came from me.

===End===

-A great journey, no matter how difficult begins with a single step.

Each step compels you to take another, and so on. It is through the strength of your will that you find the reason to move on.

Only when you push aside all obstacles do you have the right to call yourself unstoppable.