When two warriors named X and Zero fought to the bitter death in the area of Siberia, they blew themselves up with nuclear weapons, burning themselves in the firey inferno, hating each other to the very end. The blast changed the climate and soon Siberia became a bitter wasteland, where very few creatures could have survived.
CorSec, on the scene of the accident, immediately began to round up thousands of reploids and move them to their prison, the newly made wasteland. No one dared argue with the world's government, CorSec, the powerful company run by Cran. All reploids were moved. They were oppressed. They were beaten. They were destroyed. They watched friends and family butchered before their eyes. They watched hundreds collapse from the bitter heat during the day and the freezing cold at night. They cried out for the Chosen One. But there was no family ruling over them. No Chosen One came.
CorSec sentenced millions of humans to the wastelands, a criminal and political prison, and a place to place millions to free up living space on the crammed planet called Earth. Resources were running short. No one argued.
Many rose up against the CorSec oppressors and finally they fell, but a new figure took over. He began to control the vast resources of CorSec and controlled virtually the entire planet. And he had a family that would begin a new ruling line. The family was born.
But still, there has been no chosen one. The attempt to overthrow the old CorSec has left those in the Wastelands weakened. There is no hope, but still a small chance in those still willing to fight. Those with hope. Those that refuse to lie down for the evil family.
And soon they will all learn, nothing is chosen.
He landed on the ground softly, a dark shadow up ahead. "Target acquired." There was a beep in response. He turned and pointed at the five men behind him and pointed at the shadow. They moved like lightning, faster than any man could ever go. They were trained for this.
The figure turned around as if he heard them coming. Impossible. They were put under special tests never to be heard or seen. How could he hear them? It was as if he were special somehow.
The leader shook his head. "Fire." The group opened fire on the dark shadow, who stepped back and a glowing beam appeared at his hands, the bullets landing into it. Looks like this guy meant business. "Plasma." The was a sound of the guns switching over and they opened fire, hitting the beam, sending out spark that sent them all back some.
The youngest of the members leaped out and kicked the figure in the side. There was the sound of a clang and a muffled shout. Looks like their man was wearing armor. "Armor." The others began to open fire on him, blasting at his beam, sending the figure over the side of the roof.
Stepping over to the edge, the leader glanced down. The figure was on an edge, glancing back up at him. He raised his right hand a huge plasma blast came flying back up. Moving his head out of the way, the leader let it fly harmlessly past and into the sky.
Jumping down, he landed on the edge beside the attacker. "Surrender." The figure stepped back, hidden in the darkness of night. He glanced up and then down. The leader could see there was some yellow standing out - fresh paint, to be exact.
"I didn't come here to surrender to a kid like you," the figure told him, glancing back up and meeting his eyes behind the dark suit he wore. Blinking, the leader was surprised when the man leaped off the edge and began to freefall away from them.
"Falling; side A." The defenses along the building sprung out and began to open fire on the falling figure as he began his descent downward toward the next roof. The leader stood up, confidently. This guy was about to become a pancake in a few seconds.
The figure landed on the roof and rolled along it until he came to a stop. The leader was impressed that he didn't go splat, but like he had predicated, the guy was dead. Then slowly his body began to pull itself up, quivering slightly as it did so. That's IMPOSSIBLE! No one or thing could have survived such a fall! Finally the figure stood and turned back, glancing at him, before he ran on, but much slower.
"Side A, building roof."
"Say WHAT?" came Stryfe's voice.
"The guy just jumped across the building. Taking shot now." The leader reached behind him and grabbed the sniper rifle he carried on missions. He aimed it at the back of the attacker's head - and then he turned around and glanced at him, straight at the rifle scope. The leader looked at his eyes, read them. He threw the rifle down beside him and watched the figure vanish as the helicopters flew past, the wind nearly blowing him off, following him. Good luck.
Glancing up, he saw his squad staring at him in disbelief. "Out of range." He walked along the edge, hoping to find an open window somewhere on the building. He didn't know who that guy was, but Godspeed to him. Perhaps he could just do it.
Along the building side there was letters written across it in yellow paint. I'm back, Carter, and your reign ends.
The driver of the truck kept his eyes straight ahead, moving out of the way of high dunes that threaten to crash the truck and leave him stranded out there. His partner read a book silently, a flashlight in hand, shining down on the words, distracting him slightly. But out here, you'd give anything to have a friend to keep you company. Being alone out here could drive you insane, with only yourself to talk to, and the only thing to see was miles of endless desert. The same thing on and on until you reached some rag tag city the prisoners of the wasteland had created. There was few left these days.
In the back of the truck was a cage, meant to transfer prisoners around. It was rarely heard of bringing a prisoner out into the Wastelands by means of a hovertruck. The dunes were always hard to navigate through and the natives weren't really friendly to CorSec officers that happened to stumble onto their terroritory. From within the cage came a low groan and the sound of a rustling against the cold metal floor. He was awake.
The partner slapped his energy stick against the cage that seperated them from the prisoner, letting sparks shoot off at the prisoner, driving him back. "Don't get any ideas, asshole, or I'll make your life a living hell. You reading me or do I have to go back there and fuck you up some?" he snarled at the dazed man. This only seemed to make the guy angrier, but he didn't advance, only remaining perfectly still.
The partner pulled back next to the driver, who was watching him carefully, but then moved his eyes back to the desert. He decided it wasn't wise to pay attention to the two, it would only cause an accident. And that's something he didn't want out here.
His partner cleared his throat and asked, "So, Tom, uh, who is this guy we're carrying, anyway? Seems a little strange to me..." Tom shrugged, keeping his eyes glued to the road. Talking was easy, but he wasn't going to spare a look at the guy that was obviously glaring at them.
"I heard the order came from the top. And I mean the very top. This guy's got them scared about something. We're just to drive him out here and pop a few caps into the little shit's ass and blame it on the locals. Clean and simple, no questions," Tom informed him.
His partner shifted some in the seat, obviously glancing back at the prisoner. "Hmmm...what did you do to get them so scared? Huh? TELL ME!" he screamed and slammed his energy stick against the cage again.
The prisoner's voice came out like low gravel and there was a gloat to his voice. "Why should I tell a little prick like you? You're just doing the dirty work for the bastard. Like his little clean up crew."
There was a growl and his partner slid the cage back, obviously ready to hit the prisoner with the stick. But there was a surprised moan and the slam of a face. Tom spared a glance and saw the prisoner had slammed his partner's face into the cage and threw him back. He didn't know if he was dead or not, but he quickly began to reach up and close the cage and deal with the man before he got to him next, when the hovertruck began to swish. Glancing back forward, Tom saw the headlight beams shining on a dune a split second before they crashed into it, the windows shattering and sand pouring into the hovertruck, flipping it over onto it's roof and letting it spin through the sand, rocks and stones flying in. One stone crashed into Tom's head, breaking his neck instantly, and he fell forward, dead.
As the hovertruck came to a rest and rammed into a huge rock, the prisoner smashed his head roughly into it's jagged edges and fell out the hole it created, landing a few feet from the hovertruck before it exploded, sending his body flying away. As the prisoner came to a rest from the ruins of the car, his clothes were the only thing that saved his life in the cold of night.
The prisoner's body layed in the sand, half buried, dried blood on the ground around him and plastered on the side of his head, the wound long since stopped bleeding. His arm twitched every now and then, indicating an injury to his nervous system, and his clothes were covered in a frost from the night before, cutting into it viciously. Amazingly, the outfit held.
Shadows appeared in the heavy "mist" over the ground, moving towards the wreckage. Five of them could be seen appearing in and out, but there was no sound of them. They finally reached the wreckage and began to investagate it, glancing at the two dead men inside. "Looks like they've been dead the better part of the night," whispered one.
The leader of the group shrugged. "Can it be salvaged? Our current transportation dies too easily in the heat and cold..." he muttered, referring to the horses that some residents of the Wasteland rode. It was a very harsh method and horses usually died within weeks. But somehow they kept their supply up.
"Not with our suckass equipment. I'm not fucking Mr. Fix-it here," the reploid muttered.
"Listen, Gazer, is there ANYTHING you can do?" the leader asked again, putting a strain in his voice. He knew Gazer liked to make his works seem like miracles by saying it was impossible. But he had an uneasy feeling about being around here. Other scavengers could be lurking around.
Gazer glanced back at the wreckage. "Well, Red, no." Red cursed to himself again and glanced back at Biohazard, Azazel, and Riptide, who were poking around in the wreckage. Riptide began to move away from the group, heading around the area. He was a human, and new at this, but the Red Scavengers had welcomed him like they would any with his talents. Though he was a bit of a chicken-shit, so Red thought.
"Dammit to hell. Lets not waste our time here for too long. Lets see if there's anything we can nab that isn't too blown up and get out of here. Biohazard, get the horses ready. I want to get out of here incase others show up to poke around. This junk pile isn't worth fighting over," Red yelled at him.
Biohazard nodded. "Gotcha, Red."
Red hunched over, the sand irriating his skin. He despised being out here, but was rounded up by CorSec's little sweeps to free up resources for Earth. Damn bastards were going to pay, one day. This new guy was only making things worse. Him and his damn new family line he claimed would rule CorSec from now on. Like having a king over them all. "Hey, RED!" came a shout from Riptide. Red glanced over and saw him standing over something.
"Yeah, what is it, Rip?" he called out.
"Found someone. Still alive. Looks like he's in a CorSec outfit. Must have been one of the officers in that truck," Rip told him. Red stood up and walked over there, spotting a man half-buried in the sand. He wasn't bad looking, with his reddish blond hair and green eyes. However, he didn't look too well-built for fighting. But was defiantely wearing a CorSec officer suit... and a high ranking one at that. "What should we do with him? Kill him?" Rip asked, pulling out out a bowcaster and aiming it at the man's head. Red held at his hand and pushed the bow down.
"No, I got a better idea. Lets take his clothes. The sun will kill him in a matter of hours. Clean, simple, and painful, just what those CorSec bastards deserve. Plus we need the clothing. HEY, AZAZEL, get your ass over here and deal with this," Red yelled out. The heavily built reploid marched over there and looked at him. "Help Rip take off this guy's clothes. I want it all."
The two leaned down and began to pull off the man's shirt, unzipping it and pulling it up and over his head. Riptide threw it on the sand next to them and reached down and threw his boots off as Azazel unzipped his pants and pulled it off, throwing it into the pile. "Underwear too?" asked Azazel.
Red grinned at the idea of having the CorSec officer lie out here naked. "Hell yeah." The two slipped the guy's underwear off and threw it into the pile, picked it up, and walked off to the horses. By then the mist was lifting and Red knew it was time to be making tracks. He glared down at the pitiful naked man in front of him, spared a moment to kick him in the ribs, and walked off, leaving him out there to die.
A shadow stood on a dune nearby, watching the riders ride off. "Jackasses," a soft voice muttered and the figure walked down toward the man, who had long since stopped twitching. It bent down over the naked figure and glanced up at the sun, knowing that within the hour, the man would be severly burnt and would die in the next few hours.
Standing up, the first rays of the sun cleared the mist away, revealing a woman standing there. Her brown hair looked dirty and mattered; her face covered in dirt, caked over the years, but she still looked beautiful despite all that.
"I should help the poor bastard," she muttered outloud and leaned down, scopping up the man's body and cradling him next to her, moving toward where her horse was. "But it's hours away from the camp, fellow; I doubt you'll make it."
Throwing him onto the horse, she threw a protective blanket over his nude body and pulled herself up onto the horse, kicking it in the sides and causing it to jump forward. "Elayne, what have you gotten yourself into now..."
The kid shifted in his arms and gazed down, amazed. "Daddy?" he asked. "Do you own all this?"
The man smirked and nodded. "I own the entire world, son. And soon everything you see will be yours. When you are old enough, I will pass this all to you and you will pass it down to your son and so on." The boy blinked and looked around, only about six, and had blond hair and green eyes. He didn't look like his father, who was in his last thirties and his black hair graying. Obviously from some great hardship.
"Really? Neato!" the boy happily said and hopped down from his dad's arms, walking over to the glass wall and looking at the dots walking along below. The man knew that his son would rule this pathetic planet with an iron grasp, like he did. And that his legacy would go on forever.
"Daddy has some work to do, Chris. Why don't you run along and get to your studies?" the man asked. His son frowned, disappointed, but run off obediently. Sighing, the man knew he didn't spend enough time with his son, and with his wife run off and fighting against him, he didn't have anyone but him. But he was always busy, so the boy was always alone.
Pressing the button on the keypad he said, "Sharlena? Would you please let Maestro in now?" He heard her comply and a few seconds later the door opened a shortish man with black hair and a face that was worn from drinking stumbled into the room.
"Ohh, Mistar Carter, please, please, oh please forgivveee me," he said, his voice slurred. Jared Carter, owner of CorSec, ruler of the world, murderer of millions, blinked at the man in disgust. How DARE he come in here drunk...
"Come over here by me, Maestro..." Jared muttered and stepped over to the glass window, glancing out. Maestro stumbled over and stood next to him, looking out. "Tell me, you lost contact with them?"
Maestro nodded dumbly. "They were suppose to call in for a check every hour until they disposed of him, sir," he began, his voice growing uncannily sober, as if he knew he was in trouble. "They stopped calling in at 22:00 hours. We think whatever happened to them happened afterward."
Jared frowned. "Any chance the prisoner survived?"
"Well, we don't know where they wrecked, but since he was still in CorSec uniform, he was probably killed by the natives," Maestro commented. Jared agreed that was a possibility, but also that uniform could protect him from the harsh weather until he revived and could have gotten away.
"I'm very disappointed in what has happened. I gave you a simple job to oversee, Maestro, and like a damn idiot, you go and screw it up...are you a damn moron?" Jared hissed.
Maestro's head dropped. "I'm sorrah I failed you, Mr. Carter...It won't happen again, I promise..."
Jared placed his arm around Maestro's shoulder in a friendly way. "I know it won't, Maestro." He then shoved the man through the glass window, shattering it, the jagged pieces cutting into his surprised face as he fell from the top floor of the building and began his long descent down and smashed into the sidewalk, becoming a mass of goo and shattered bone.
Up top, Jared picked a piece of glass sticking out of his arm and threw it aside, apparently ignoring the bleeding it had caused. Walking over to the keypad he pressed the button. "Sharlena? Cleanup crew outside, please."
"Right away, sir." Jared smiled and clicked the button off, turning to glance at the glance. A shame, that cost a pretty penny. He knew he really should learn to control his temper. He did, after all, lose more windows that way.
Down below on the street, CorSec trucks drove up to the plastered goo on the sidewalk and began to scrap it up. None of the people seemed to be phased by it; after all, it was a normal occurance. Smirking, Jared stepped away from the window and walked out of his office, past Sharlena, and down the hallway. It was a new day and he had plenty to wreck havoic on.
Stepping into the elevator, he placed his key into it and entered the code to head to a level that wasn't even listed on any of the elevators, and only a few people could get to. This floor was mainly a rumor that just went around, so people thought. But it was real and here CorSec kept tabs on things everywhere in the world. It was the brain of the CorSec operations. Impregnable from attack and full of traps if unathorized personel tried to break in, this floor was the securest place in the entire world. It was here Carter felt the safest. He came here, sometimes, to think, listening to the whirl of the machinary.
Stepping off the elevator, a laser passed over his body, clicked with identification, and the invisible electric field at the elevator door powered down. Walking through, he heard it power back up behind him.
One of the operators here nodded at him. "Everything's clear, sir. But we haven't found any traces of the lost unit carrying the prisoner." Jared frowned, but didn't really expect them to find it in the wastelands. The weather there screwed up all spying equipment, and what they did see was usally just sand. The hovertruck was probably buried in the sand by now, thanks to the frequent sandstorms.
"Ehhh, keep searching. Try to pick up any life signs in the general area of their last transmission. Maybe we can watch him die slowly in the sands if we can pick up his life signature," Jared told them. He frowned, wondering where the man was, the one that posed so much threat. His name raced through his head and he felt a cold sweat. The legend of the chosen one always had him watching for someone to overthrow him. While the man wasn't trying to do that right now, it could have come to that. Whoever tried to overthrow Jared Carter met with a painful death. He couldn't risk losing CorSec.
"Of course, sir. We'll double our search efforts. I believe there's some reports over there on the table for you, whenever you feel like shifting through them," the operative commented to him. Jared nodded and walked over to the table, reaching over and pouring himself a cup of coffee.
Sitting down at the desk, Jared glanced over the reports of various stats of the planet. He quietly began to mark things down on how to handle situations. There seemed that the people of the state Georgia were trying to overthrow CorSec. The rednecks would quickly be put down. He knew if he allowed the news to say whatever they wanted, they would make him seem evil for this, but one had to keep order. He smirked at that thought, since he basically controlled the news. Though there were a few troublesome reports that tried things. Most were sent to the wastelands.
His comm. unit next to him beeped and Jared reached down and clicked it on, flipping through the reports still. "Carter?" came the voice of his first in command, Andrew Stryfe.
"Yeah, Stryfe?" Jared asked. Andrew was in charge of overseeing alot of CorSec's duties, though he didn't have anywhere near the power that Jared had. He could never bring himself to give that much power to any subordinate. Though he did trust Stryfe greatly, something he didn't really have toward anyone else. Stryfe was a young man, in his early twenties, with black hair, blue eyes, and had a very pale white skin from working inside.
"We have a Code B here," Stryfe told him. Jared frowned. A Code B was when someone tried to overthrow CorSec. Another damn person hoping to take over CorSec and rule it for their purposes. It was happening more and more with the ideas of either freedom, ruling the entire world, or just kicking Jared's ass out of the spot. Greed was powerful and it controlled people. Standing up, he thought in disgust at least it wasn't desperation. That wasn't something that could motivate people very far even when the situation was hopeless. It was a powerful weapon that Jared didn't have on his side. He wasn't desperate about anything, for he controlled all.
"Oh, really?" Jared said darkly. "What division?"
"One of your tech members that was working to get into the brainnet. However, I didn't trust him so I've held him back the last few years in the lower data divisions. I guess he just got bored and decided to try and hack his way down there. He's doing a pretty good job at it too. I can't tell yet what he's trying to do, but I think he's attempting to get as much information he can from the lower outlets of the brainnet and change the information to benefit him," Stryfe answered.
Jared nodded. "Right. Get the security teams around him - but don't let them kill him. He'll be a prime example for any who crosses my path. I think this would be most interesting. The public needs to watch these kinds of things every now and then. Puts them in their place."
"Of course, sir."
"And I want to discuss with you about McCormick," Jared added, knowing Stryfe wouldn't have clicked off until given permission. "I want to know how you're correcting Maestro's....mistake."
Stryfe was silent a moment before responded. "Of course, sir."
Stryfe tapped his right ear twice, switching his comm. frequences to the security team. "Get two security teams ready and to level 23 on the double. We have a situation Code B-1A Hacker going on here. I don't want any of you going in there until I arrive. Understood?" The garbled reply came back affirming it.
Briskly walking through the hallways, Stryfe's thoughts were dark. He couldn't believe Carter was going to do another public example as he so well put it. The last time he did it, he caused mass fear and hysteria, screwed tons of kids up for life, and directly caused more attacks against the Carter dynasty in the long run. Sometimes he didn't know if Jared Carter was all there and he worried about him leading. His methods and example were extremely crude and not well thought out plenty of times. And young Chris Carter was way too long to replace Jared. Sometimes, Stryfe just wondered what held the CorSec Empire together anymore.
Stepping into the elevator, he held up his plasma rifle in his hand and began to load thin discs into it, recharging the plasma level on it. Clicking the gun together and hitting the power button, it hummed to life and the plasma bar rose to high. Then he reached up and tapped the scanner button that covered his right eye and it flickered to life. The building was normally scan proof, but Stryfe's and Carters' worked.
Glancing downward, he saw the two security teams had gathered where he had told them and was holding their position. That was good. Reaching over, he clicked a machine that wrapped around around his arms to his hand and it powered up. He called it his ripple effect and he was able to cast attacks from it much like a ripple. There was much about the technology he still had yet to learn about, he knew. Carter didn't know much about it, and he had his tech crew design it.
The elevator slid open and Stryfe stepped off and walked to the crew. "Alright, we're to this man alive. His name is Lieutenant Darien and he shouldn't be too heavily armed. However, he might have the room's defenses turned on against us. Use whatever force is necessary to take them out, but if any of you kill him, you'll answer directly to me. And if that happens, I swear to whatever God, demon, or idol you worship, I'll kill you. Do you understand me?" Stryfe lectured. They all nodded.
Stryfe pressed himself tightly against the wall right next to the door. Undoubtly if this guy was good, like Stryfe thought he was, then he knew they were in the hallway by hacking into the cameras in the area. However, that was the limit of his power. CorSec was too complicated for a hacker to take over but a small section of it. This Darien guy was about to learn that the hard way. He scanned into the room once and saw that Darien was still at the computer. If he was obvious to their arrival, he didn't seem to be worried.
Raising his hand, Stryfe stuck one finger out, slowly slid the second one out, then popped the third one out and threw his hand downward, the signal for them to move in. The teams smashed in the door and ran in, firing off gas at the surprised Darien. Following behind the teams, Stryfe scanned through the gas and saw that Darien was just a holographic image. Frowning, he looked around the room and saw in the corner that there was some chairs piled up to lead to a vent, that wasn't perfectly placed back. Smirking, he walked past the two teams, who were still tricked by the illusion, and stepped onto the boxes and punched the vent upward, climbing into the vent after Darien.
The air was surprisingly stale to Stryfe as he began to crawl forward in the darkness of the vent. Attempting to take fewer breaths as not to taste it, he pressed on, hearing a slight thump thump ahead of him. Smirking, he slid on ahead and caught the back end of Darien moving forward. "Freeze, Lieutenant."
Darien stopped moving and didn't turn around. "I see my little illusion down there didn't stop all of you."
Stryfe shook his head, his plasma rifle aimed right at Darien's butt. "Sure didn't, Lieutentant. Not a very impressive attempt. So, why risk trying to hack into portions of the brainnet?"
Darien shifted around to face him. He was still a kid, in his late teens really. His face was unshaven and dark and his hair was slick and oily from spending many of a day working. Nothing like the guy Stryfe agreed to hire a few years back. Darien was a exceptionally smart and gifted so he was able to come here with no college training. CorSec taught him what he needed to know and brought him up. But now, Stryfe could only see a broken man, a desperate one, who's green eyes were twitching uncontrolably now.
"What do you think, Stryfe?" Darien asked, leaving off the Mr. as he used to address him. There was a sneer to his face. "I was trying to get information to help fractions end Carter's dictatorship of this entire planet. Dammit, doesn't that bother you!? Your brethren is being slaughtered left and right here!"
Stryfe shook his head, filtering Darien's words out. "No, I don't. Now if you'll come with me..." Darien's faced tightened some and he glanced around. Stryfe knew he was calculating his odds of escape. "There is no escape. Now, please, move along. There should be an exit vent ahead to the right."
"Like hell, Stryfe," Darien snarled and went for his vest pocket. Stryfe knew it must be a gun he was going for and calculated how long it would take him to get there. Plenty of time. Raising his arm he fired a ripple effect on the vent, shattering it and causing them both to come falling into the hallway. Darien, caught by surprised, landed hard and knocked the air out of his lungs. As he choked and tried to breathe, Stryfe stood up and slammed the butt of the plasma rifle into the back of his head, letting his body crumble to the ground.
Clicking his ear twice, he opened a channel to the security teams to call it off and head back. Then he flipped the channel again over to Carter. "I have Lieutenant Darien, sir."
"Good job, Andrew. Bring him down to my personal little floor for his...kind. I have the hookup to the HoloNet so the entire world can watch this," Carter told him and blinked out. Sighing, Stryfe glanced down at Darien.
"I pity what's about to happen to you. You claim to have tried to give information to the rebels, but he sees it as you trying to end his family line and begin your own; to take over his dynasty and begin a new one; to take over the CorSec Empire he's built up from Cran's ashes. I've seen what he's done to others. I pity you..." Styfe told the man and reached down and picked him up, placing him over his shoulder. He hated these things. They were nothing but disgusting whack-offs for Jared.
Stryfe stood in the corner, hidden from the sight of the camera, his face looking down at the ground. Jared guessed he was unwilling to watch this process, and that made him weak.
Darien was in the middle of the room, facing the camera, strapped to a table that went straight up and down in the air. He was chained to it and was looking around the room with a wild fear in his eyes, as if he was scared of the upcoming punishment. Jared loved that.
Stepping up to him, Jared held onto a large, curved knife that was extremely sharp. The light from the torches danced on it's blade as he stood there, staring Darien in the eyes. "So, Lieutenant Darien, do you care to tell us what crime you have committed?"
"I have done nothing, you bastard! I am trying to free the people of this planet from your damn rule!" Darien cursed at him, struggling against his bonds. Jared simply frowned and slashed him across the chest in a blink of the eye; a red line followed a few seconds later and blood began to gush out. Darien screamed in pain.
"Wrong. You tried to overthrow the Carter dynasty and establish your own. Isn't this correct?" Jared asked again. Darien's eyes rolled into his head as he struggled to stay awake and face his captor but it was obviously it was beginning to become to much for him. All he could manage was a low groan before his eyes rolled back up into his head. Jared glared at his weakness and shook his head. "Pathetic."
He stepped away from the gurgling man, not making contact with the screen. He glanced over at Stryfe, who kept his head down, his feelings masked. Grinning, Jared turned back to Darien. "General Stryfe." Stryfe's head jerked up in surprise. "Isn't it true, General, that this man was trying to overthrow the government?"
Stryfe's face twisted up with anguish from Jared's new line to the man's fate. "Yes, Emperor Carter, he was..." he said dryly.
"So, this man isn't a hero, trying to save the people, but really an agent of anarchy. Admit it!" Jared screamed and punched Darien, waking him back up. "Admit you want to over throw my government and set yourself back up as the new leader."
Darien begin to viberate from laughter. "You really are insane, you son of a bitch. You think the bloodlines is the only important thing....don't you?" he began to speak, his voice a low rasp but clear. "If I wanted to take over your 'empire', I wouldn't do it in the manner that you're speaking...but there's more than that at stake...lives are at stake from your insanity..." Darien coughed harshly.
Jared blinked. He began to wonder if this character was operating alone. "Who else is in your group, Lieutentant, and I'll spare your life. The world as my witness."
Darien grinned, blood coating his once white teeth. "Bastard. You turned against your own kind...to set yourself up..." Jared blinked, knowing what he was referring to.
"So you're one of the outlaws from the Wastelands?" Jared snarled. Darien laughed even harder, his body shaking from the effort.
"You killed them, didn't you? They are no more," Darien countered. Jared settled back down, sighing in relief. Perhaps the other night...that wasn't him.
"Who do you work for then?" Jared asked again, pushing the pictures away of what had happened a few days before.
Darien glanced at him, his eyes tearing up from the struggle to keep talking as his own blood gushed out from his chest. "I am here to overthrow your government. I wanted to rule." His eyes clearly showed he was lying, to a sane man, but Jared was far from it. He only grinned in delight.
"You wanted to rule my empire?" he asked. Raising the bloodied blade he slashed downward and the sound of a slicing against skin could be heard. Darien's face paled as the blood began to drain from it. Jared raised Darien's privates in front of his face, cut off. "I would like to see you start a new ruling line without...these," he told Darien, who stared in horror at his own reproductive organ hanging in front of his face, blood dripping from it. He screamed in unholy pain and puked all over the place as he slowly began to spin off into darkness...and death.
Jared knew he was still able to hear so he set them on fire in front of him and threw it on Darien's shoulder. "There roasts your life. How do you expect to continue your line when your manliness has been torn from you?" But Darien was beyond hearing. Turning back to the camera on the wall, Jared gave his shark grin, turned around, and marched away.
The man sipped his beer, his anger growing towards the Carter corporation. While he was just a reporter, he wished he could do something. He could never print the truth because it was surpressed by the CorSec News Corporation and only Carter would never allow anything to be published against him - it would mean instant death.
The kid continued to cry pitifully and he turned to glare at his mother. "Can't you shut the brat up?" he asked, his voice hard.
The mother stared at him. "Who the hell are you!? What do you expect from a young kid like this, having just watched something like that!? Are you some coldhearted bastard?"
The man blinked and sighed. "I'm sorry. It's just that this really just ticks me off..." The woman softened her hatred look and went back to trying to calm the kid. Sighing, the man went back to nursing his drink, trying to surpress his feeling of uselessness.
The manager glanced at him. "Hey, listen pal, I think you've passed your limit today. You don't want to cause trouble." The man sighed, another law he hated passed by Carter. The bartenders had to keep track of how long one drank and have a cut off, so the man could go back to work efficently.
"Yeah, well, bloody fucking thanks for reminding me, pal," the man snarled, reaching into his back pocket and slipping out his wallet. He flipped it open and flipped through the gil, throwing it out onto the counter, letting it slide. The manager gave him an exasperated look but he ignored. The little choir boy could pick up the money himself.
Reaching down to grab his trench coat, he put it on, shaking it to make it look nice and neat, then walked out the door. Walking along the side walk of the capital, he noticed it had rained the previous night here. The sidewalks were slick and it was overcast overheard. The man knew if Carter could control that too, he would make it overcast all the time, just to piss the people off.
"You're Gordon Wainright, aren't you?" came a voice. The man stopped and glanced off to the side, where a path went past a phonebooth. Another man in a trenchcoat casually walked out from beside it and nodded ahead, beginning to move off. Gordon frowned, puzzled at this, and kept in pace with him.
Gordon stopped and grabbed him, twisting the trench coat beneath his fingers as he jerked the man face to face. "What the fuck do you want with me? If you don't tell me who the hell you are, I'm going to get CorSec all over your ass in a few minutes."
The other man studied his face for a few minutes, then allowed a slow grin to play across his face. Gordon finally took in the man's looks. He was in his late forties, his hair was balding and graying, but it had a trace of black in it still. Also, his eyes were a sparkling green. "My name is Dath. That's all you need to know about me. As for what I want with you has to do with a certain pen name you go by...Paladin."
Gordon grimaced. He prayed every day to every god in existance that no one would ever find about the name Paladin. But it looked like some old geezer had stumbled upon him and was probably wanting blackmail to keep quiet about it. "What do you want?" He let Dath go.
Dath grinned, dusting his trench coat off, and waved his hand forward again. The two men began to walk once more. "'Paladin' is an unknown reporter, living somewhere here, in the capital, that writes the truth about CorSec whenever he gets the chance. Sure, most of his papers are confiscated before they meet public eye, but he gets the truth out there to a small number. He inspires others to strive for the truth."
Gordon frowned. "Look, we both know who this 'Paladin' is, just cut to the point."
Dath grinned again, sadly this time. The sparkle in his eyes seemed to fade. "That boy that died today wasn't another person out to overthrown the Carter dynasty and set up his own. He was my son and he was there to try to get valuable files on CorSec to end it's evil reign and bring peace to the world again."
Gordon snorted. "Going up against Carter and CorSec is just plain stupid. Forgive me, but your son was a damn idiot if he thought he could do something. What did he think, he was the chosen one from the legend?"
Dath glanced at him from the corner of his eyes. "No, he didn't. But he was trying to do what he could do for the world, even if he risked his own life for it."
Gordon shrugged. "And what would you have me do about that?"
Dath tapped him on the chest. "You need to spread the word as Paladin. Get the truth out there. My organization is trying to bring down CorSec and Carter. My son died for our cause. I ask you to join it too and help us."
Gordon laughed and stopped. "You're one crazy son of a bitch. I'm not going to even hear this. It's insane." He turned around and began to walk the other way when he felt a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.
"Carter's about to wipe out a rebellion in Georgia. You might want to go there and see what you can do. Those brave souls are trying everything they can, the least you can do is let the world know about their plight..." Dath whispered behind him. Gordon turned around, to tell him to bug the hell off, but the man was gone. Gordon stood there, eyeing the streets, and wondered what the hell was going on here...
She stopped, letting the horse rest, even at the cost of the man's life she was carrying. If the horse died before they reached camp then she and the mysterous stranger would both perish out here in the heat, all alone, roasting in the sun until their flesh dried up and the vultures began to rip it off their bones. It wasn't a pleasant thought for her.
She slid off the horse, relieving some of the weight it was being forced to carry. She wrapped the protective clothes around her chest some more and pulled the clothes around her head to shield more of her face. While she enjoyed her nice healthy tan, getting cancer was the last thing she wanted at this point and time.
Elayne moved and sat down on the hot sand, already calculating how long she would let the horse rest. Glancing over at the man under the protective blankets, she wondered why she was helping this CorSec agent. But something in her heart told her she couldn't let him die.
Studying his features, Elayne heard a sound in the distance. Standing up she glanced across the barren wasteland to a huge wall of dust miles away. It was a sandstorm. The Wastelands were frequently hit by these deadly things and it would kill or destroy anything in it's path. And just as her luck foretold, it was heading straight for her.
"Dammit..." she cursed and ran back over to the horse, throwing herself gracefully over it. Grabbing the reigns she gave it a hard yank and kicked it's side. The horse began an urget run for camp, trying to outrun the sandstorm in the distance.
The bumping of the horse running across the sand dunes caused the man to groan, but he remained asleep. Elayne spared a moment to glance at him, saw that he wasn't in danger of slipping off, and continued her wild ride for the camp. She knew she wasn't going to make it in time. The camp was still a good hour away.
The horse's leg buckled and sent it's passengers flying into a sand dune. Elayne landed on her side, causing her to give a hoarse cough of pain, as she tumbled along the sand. Finally she came to a stop, a bit dazed, her lungs burning as she tried to breathe.
Slowly Elayne gained control of her breathing again and sat up, looking around. The horse was on the ground, obviously in great pain, and the man had tumbled a few yards away from her. The protective blanket was gone, leaving the sun to burn down on his body again.
Walking over to the horse, she grabbed her backpack and dropped it at her feet as she knelt down. Feeling the horse's leg, she determined it's leg was broken and that it was suffering. Knowing there was nothing to do for the horse, she reached into her backpack and pulled out a gun. Pressing the barrel of gun against the horse's head, she flipped the switch to plasma and fired, frying the horse's head instantly, leaving nothing left but ashes. She was glad it didn't half vaporize the head and leave the brain and insides showing. That had tramatized her once when she was younger.
Satisfied the horse was dead, she walked over to the bed and checked for a pulse in his neck. Seeing he was alive, she glanced and saw the sandstorm was right on them. She knew there was no way she could get them out of there before it hit. Looking back at the sand dune, she grabbed a shovel and began to dig into it. After she was sure her tunnel was good enough, she pulled the man into it and held onto him tightly, using her body and clothes to help shield him. His breath felt warm on her neck and she could feel a trinkle of blood running down from his head onto her arm. She ignored it.
The sandstorm hit, slamming against the sand dune. Ducking her head and continuing to cradle the man, Elayne prayed they would survive.
The second reploid was well built. He had a scar that ran over his right eye that he received in combat in trying to take down the old CorSec leader Cran. His name was Dominator.
Dominator glanced at the other reploid. The other reploid was supposedly built after the long dead Zero and looked just like him. His weapons were two warp blades. His name was Slash.
"I'll tell the boss this...he won't be happy to think we lost another member."
"Don't worry. The kid's made out of tougher stuff than what you would give her credit for, Dominator," Slash said, turning his back. "Anyway, we need get a lock down on the camp for when the sandstorm hits us."
Dominator nodded. "Yeah, lets lock down. Good luck, kid." He said a silent prayer for the one called Elayne. The two reploids walked back into camp, preparing it for the sandstorm.
"Let me get one thing straight, Nebles, I don't believe in your Kya'Kia. I don't believe in any god. Much less any emperor of some backwater system who plays as a god. What I want to know is the truth and that's not going to help me believe you," the creature told him, his voice sounding cold and mechanical behind the visor. He raised his blaster and pressed it against the bones in Nebles' head. "So, enlighten me to believe you before I pump a blast of ki into your brain and melt it."
Nebles licked his forked tongue across his "lips" nervously. "I swear to you. The being known as Xevil is on Kya'Kia."
The creature sighed impatiently, the visor seemingly flashing. "You're beginning to bore me, Nebles. We both know that Kya'Kia is the name of your god, emperor, system, planet, capital, and quite a few major cities." He pressed the blaster harder against the bones in Nebles head, causing the creature to grimace in pain. "Refer to which you mean..."
Nebles sighed. "The planet Kya'Kia in the capital Kya'Kia. He's there!" The creature pulled back on the blaster, letting Nebles collapse to his feet and grab his head in pain. He put it up and shook his head in disgust, walking back towards his ship to fly to the capital. Nebles looked up. "You're a Cheire, aren't you?"
The creature stopped and glanced back, noting Nebles. "You don't know what you're talking about."
Nebles nodded nervously. "Y-Yes I do! That armor, it's Cheire. You're from that planet Parnel! But I thought it was only a legend...hidden in some network of black holes."
The creature stared at him. Suddenly his hand reached out and in it formed a blaster. He raised it at Nebles and fired in one quick motion. The blast of ki roasted the alien and he fell face first onto the ground, dead before he hit. "I said, you don't know what you're talking about..." He had the blaster vanish and continued toward his ship.
It was a shame. Nebles would have made a great source of information too.
He brought his ship in and docked in the bay, powering it down but making sure it's defenses were set up. While the Kya'Kia were religious people, there were outcasts who robbed and did wrong. And outsiders who came and picked on them. Like Xevil.
The creature walked out of the bay after securing his ship and worked his way out of the port. He looked at the towering buildings of the capital of Kya'Kia. The entire system disgusted him. All the Kya'Kias annoyed him and he looked down on the pathetic people who lived here. If he had it his way, he would help Xevil take over this system. But he was a bounty hunter and would take out the bounty on Xevil's head.
A few of the Kya'Kia looked at him, wary, as they walked towards the religious shrine...Kya'Kia. The creature was glad his visor hid all his emotions, as he was scowling at the creatures. He continued to walk along the streets of the city, wondering where his target would be. Xevil would try to set himself up in a high position to take control of the city. To do so, he probably would attend the religious ceremonies.
The creature worked his way up to the building and glanced it over. Unlike these fools, Xevil would recognize him as a bounty hunter immediately. So he couldn't just walk and begin to shoot. Besides, that would enrage the Kya'Kia and they would attack him for shooting in their holy shrine.
Bending down, he looked around and then glanced up at the top, left side, and saw the glass windows that allowed light to fall into the building. Grinning beneath his visor, he walked over to the side, out of sight of the natives, and gripped the side of the wall and began to slowly scale it.
Straining his muscles, he smiled, not having this much exercise in a long time. He had relyed too heavily on his armor and creations for too long and it felt good to do it without the aid of something to fly him.
Pulling himself up, he took a moment to note that he was more than half way up. He paused and glanced out over the city of Kya'Kia. He would admit it was beautiful in comparasion to some of the places he had visited, but never could match that of the planet Parnel. He felt a wave of homesickness for the first time, quickly replaced by anger.
Continuing to pull himself up, he threw himself over the edge of the side roof and walked over to the glass window. A large knife popped out the arm of his suit and he cut a hole into the glass. Carefully taking the glass out, he set it down. Retracting the knife, he formed his blaster and put into the hole. Scanning through the crowd, he tried to spot Xevil.
His visor picked up the target and highlight it. Grinning, he aimed his weapon at Xevil, getting a target lock from his visor. Pulling the trigger, a blast of ki flew out and nailed Xevil in the head, snapping it back and sending the alien tumbling onto some poor Kya'Kia. The other Kya'Kias looked around in a panic, trying to spot the assaulter in their most holy place.
Pulling his blaster back, the bounty hunter began to back away from the window, as not to be spotted, when he saw Xevil twitch and stand up, despite the fact half his face had been blown off. Grimacing, the bounty hunter knew what he had to do to attain Xevil's death. Leaping through the window, he shattered it and began to fall down a sixty foot drop. Hitting the ground he rolled easily and the knife extracted on his arm. Gaining momentum from his rolling, he dived forward and slashed Xevil across the chest and his left arm, deattaching the arm.
Xevil, still dazed with half of his face gone and his brain exposed, tripped back and grabbed his bloody stump. Finally he roared in pain and looked around for some type of help. The hunter wouldn't give it to him and formed his blaster, aiming it at Xevil's exposed brain. He fired one shot and blew it to bits, along with the rest of his head.
The Kya'Kias launched themselves at him, trying to tackle the attacker. The bounty hunter leaped back and slashed one in half. He didn't care if he killed these pathetic creatures or not, but didn't want to stick around to be mobbed by them. Rushing into a pack of them, he caused a domino effect.
Breaking out the doors, he began to run down the street, followed by a pack of snarling and hissing Kya'Kias. Using his armor's advanced boot systems, he began to out run them, turning back every so often to fire blasts of ki from his blaster at them, killing whatever unfortant Kya'Kia that strayed into his path.
Running into the port, he ran into two Kya'Kia guards. Flipping over them, he extracted his knife and slashed both in two. Their two halves hit the ground and flopped around as a reflex. Smirking, the bounty hunter ran toward his ship and deactivated it's security systems. Running up the extending plank, he hit the close button and seated himself in his pilot seat. Powering the ship up, he thrusted the throttle forward and began to fly for the wall.
Alarms in the port went off and he pulled back on the stick, letting Hianule's Revenge fly straight into the sky. Smirking, he left the city far behind and entered the atmosphere of the planet, entering space. Typing in the location to pick up his reward for the death of Xevil, the bounty hunter sat back and pulled off his helment, setting it next to him.
"Well, Kilath, you did it again..." he said, pleased with himself. Suddenly the alarms went off on Hianule's Revenge. Kilath blinked in surprise and pushed the button. A view screen popped up and showed ten Kya'Kia starfighters heading his way. "You have got to be kidding me..." he muttered, activating the laser cannons on the ship. Gripping the stick, he aimed at the middle ship of the pack. "You guys don't stand a chance against a Cheire ship..." He pushed the trigger button, the lasers streaking out and nailing the lead ship. It spun and hit the ship next to it, causing both to explode.
The other eight starfighters streaked towards the Hianule's Revenge quickly, opening fire. The shields held, but dropped several points. Kilath swore and locked onto another target, getting the target sensors to go red. He pushed the trigger button and blew it up. "I don't have time to deal with moronic apes like you..." he said, though he knew they couldn't hear him.
Pulling on the stick, he locked onto another starfighter blocking his path into hyperspace. Firing blindly, trying to get out before the other ships ganged up on his back like a pack of Tyolfs, he hit the wing, spinning the starfighter wildly out of his path.
Reaching over, he grabbed the controls for hyperspace. He pulled back on it and the Hianule's Revenge sprang away from the starfighters and Kya'Kia.
Leaning back in his seat, Kilath smirked. He decided after he got his money he would pay Parnel a visit, after his long exhile...Lets see how the emperor and his people responded to seeing Kilath Hianule again.
As he grew up, Gordon however learned that there was little one person could do. The one job he ever loved, thinking it was the ability to tell the people that truth about the world, ended up being manipulated and controlled by CorSec. That night, he got drunk for the first time. Perhaps he had never become sober since...
Trying to find some truth in his life, Gordon created the pen name 'Paladin' and began to publish articles about CorSec's ways. A few articles made it to the public eye before they were destroyed. Needless to say, Paladin was a wanted a man. Whoever he was.
And now, some old senile bastard was trying to get him to travel to Georgia and help some rebellion get known. Gordon sighed at the thought and flipped his pen into it's cup, standing up. He needed to do some background information and walked back into records room.
Seating himself down, Gorgon began to go through the thousands of folders, not quite sure what he was looking for. He had found some interesting things in here that Jared Carter had not known to have his goons take. Opening the folders, he began to look through all the information he could on CorSec.
Gorgon put on his reading glasses when he found a particular folder on General Cran and leaned back. "General Cran was a known war hero that came out of the Retribution Wars. Twenty years old when X and Zero activated the nuclear bomb, he led his small military group named 'CorSec' against them and quickly surpressed all reploids. He moved them to the Wastelands and made sure they stayed there. Grateful to Cran for what he did, CorSec rose quickly to power and took over the entire world into a militaristic rule by the year 2120."
Gorgon frowned and leand back. "Over the years, everyone all over the world rose up against General Cran's miltary rule, inspired by the reploids. During this time, the legend of the Chosen One appeared. Created by the reploids to bring themselves peace when exhiled to the wastelands but was quickly adopted by everyone around the world.
"General Cran's power was beyond that of what the people could handle and everyone who rose up was crushed. Until a group led by some unknown figure rose up and battled CorSec right at it's heart. Jared Carter killed General Cran there and took over CorSec himself. What happened to the leader and the group is unknown." Gordon's lip pressed into a thin line as he read on.
"Jared Carter took over CorSec and made it stronger than ever, all in the same year, the year 2160. He and his wife ruled until she turned against him, after their child was born in 2164. She tried to take him, but Jared held onto him. Until this time, where his wife Mirri is remains unknown.
"Jared raised the young child and started the Carter dynasty. Finally the legend that the reploids mentioned came true, but no chosen one has appeared," Gordon read. It was sighed unknown, probably to keep the author safe if Jared was displeased at this. Gordon threw the folder aside and dug around, trying to find some information on where Jared Carter came from.
Digging through the folders for hours, Gordon finally sighed and sat down. There was no information on Jared Carter. Zip on Darien and Dath. And the only thing he had going for him was some crazy 'go to Georgia' line of bullshit. Gorgon stood up and grabbed his coat, placing it on. He wondered what that Darien kid was after, but decided he wasn't willing to risk trying to find out. Grabbing the phone, he dialed the port. "Yes, I'd like a ticket to Georgia on the next shuttle ride. In an hour? I'll be there."
Hanging up the phone, Gorgon stepped out of the back room and passed his office, reaching over to grab his pen. Sighing, he had a gut feeling this was the last time he would ever see it again. Giving it one glance, he began his run for the port.
Laying him on the ground, she looked out over the wasteland and saw the storm was over. The entire area was
covered in new sand and for a moment, she feared she was lost. But, closing her eyes and gathering her bearings,
remembered which direction the camp was. Turning back to the man, she saw his naked body was cut, torn, and bleeding
from the sand. It looked like he would be dead soon if she didn't get him the medical attention he needed.
Bending down, she scooped up the heavy man, putting his arm around her shoulders and supporting him across her
shoulders/back. Walking forward, she grittered her teeth with determination and continued to move forward, refusing
to let herself drop. If she was to fall, it would mean death for both of them. If she was to leave the man behind, it
would be his death. Neither was an option, to her at least.
Stumbling over a sand dune, Elayne almost fell, but stuck out her leg, refusing to give way. The man groaned, his
blood running down her back. She ignored it. Still placing one foot in front of the other, Elayne worked
her way forward, the sun glaring down on them, roasting the man's nude body. If she kept him out her any
longer, he would die. The protective blanket had been lost in the sandstorm and his body couldn't take prolonged
exposure to the the sun. Not in the wastelands.
Why are you so intent on helping this CorSec agent, Elayne? Why? He's not even that cute... She chided
herself mentally. She continued to walk forward, her vision blurring. It seemed as if she had been walking for
hours, when at most it was probably thirty. Everything looked the same, the endless sand, stretching on forever,
with no end ever in sight. A small fear raced through her. What if she had gone the wrong direction? If that was
the case, she would be moving away from the camp. If that happened, they would both be dead.
Elayne faltered briefly, ready to collapse. She didn't think she had the strength to go on. Her body was
protesting the weight of the man. The sun was draining her of her energy, despite her protective clothing. The sand
was wearing her down, tripping her, hurting her ankles. But despite all that, she continued to walk forward, refused
to give up, and moved on.
And her determination paid off. Elayne stumbled, looked up, through her brown-caked hair and saw the camp. People
were digging the sand off the buildings, unburying the camp. One of the reploids looked over over at her. "Elayne!" he
shouted and ran forward. She smiled, refusing to collapsed, and watched her friends run over to her. She did it. She had
survived what the wastelands had thrown at her.
It was the only life she knew.
Proceding Eastward in Sector 9
The horses trembled as it walked across the sands. Elayne knew it was giving out from the extreme heat and the terrian. The horses weren't meant to live under such extreme measures and they quickly died. But somehow the people of the Wastelands had a supplier that sent them out.
10:30 HoursCamp Site
The reploid lowered his binoculars and shook his head slowly. "There's a sandstorm out there. We can't send a team to look for her until after it's cleared," he said to the other reploids behind him.
11:00 Hours
The Kya'Kia System
"I'm telling you the truth. I swear to Kya'Kia himself!" the frightened alien told the thing holding onto him. The tall creature was clad in full body armor that was made of a type of metal alloy the alien had never seen before, but had heard about. The creature's face was covered by a dark visor that part of the helment he wore. And the only thing the alien could see was his own frightened reflection. He himself was an alien from the planet Kya'Kia and was of the race Kya'Kia. He was small, scaley, and green. His sharp teeth could literally rip into the strongest metals...except this creature's.
11:15 Hours* * * * *
The Capital
Gordon Wainright leaned back in his seat and tapped his pen against his desk. He was evaluating everything he had ever hold truth too. As a little kid, he believed that one person, just one, could make all the difference in the world. Inspired by the 'Chosen One' legend.
11:30 Hours
Sector 9
Elayne blinked her eyes slowly, realizing she was on top of her new found friend, protecting him from the sand that was being blown in.
She pushed herself forward, only to find herself pinned tight by the sand that had buried them. Trying not to think too much on her close-quarters
situation, she used all her strength to press against the sand, causing it cave in on them. However, she was then able to push herself
out of the sand and drag the man with her.
12:00 Hours