We Need a Deathworlder!

CLANG!!!

THUMP!!!

THWACK!!!

Blood trickles down Red’s face as she manically rams her forehead against any and all surfaces. Blinding white pain surges through her entire mind, but no stolen memories return. The sounds of war above her only intensify as she walks circles within her cage like a mad dog. She’s scared, what is there to do? These bastards know her so well, and yet she can’t recall a scrap of helpful information about them. Other than that they are insane warmongering cultists of her own species of course. She needs to remember how to fight them, how to beat them. People are dying… people are dying… they’re all gonna die…

“You’re gonna die.”

Red spins to see yet another one of her kind. But this one’s different, smaller and beyond familiar. A child… with red hair and piercing green eyes. The borders of this girl blends with the world around like a watered down stain of paint, shaking away any small aspect of doubt whether she is real.

Red staggers up to the bars, grasping at them with a drawn defeated sigh. What more can these people do to her? Haven’t they already made their point? What can be the purpose of this?

“Get… mad…” the child orders in a shaking tone through a shut mouth.

Tilting her bleeding head, Red narrows her eyes and grunts.

“You’re probably going to die anyway. So just… let go… and hurt them as much as you can.”

Red’s grip on the bars tighten, but her gut knots and twists in resistance to the temptation. She shakes her head in denial.

From the stairs erupts the sound of splintering wood and shouts of both her kind and not.

For a moment the girl flickers out of existence. When she comes back she is slightly older, dressed in what seems to be a basic, sharp uniform. Her wild hair buzzed short, eyes filled with contempt.

“They stole everything, and they still want more. No more… ”

Thick Terran arm muscles tense and flex causing the Iron bars to groan and quake. Red locks eyes with the girl, heart pounding, rage flooding.

“Noh… moa…” the Terran utters in a stained guttural voice.

The hinges to the door begin to shutter and buckle along with the meager locking mechanism.

The girl breaks a smile showing a missing tooth. Then she pulls a metallic bat out from behind her, resting it upon her shoulder.

In a loud snapping crack and a sharp lift upward, the entire door comes free and clatters to the ground like a concentrated thunderstorm.

Red looks around to notice the girl is gone… no… she’s not gone… she’s mad.

The Terran snatches up the nearby wooden seat and twists off one of the three legs before charging up the stairs.

There’s a few of the local people attempting to barricade the front door with crates and furnishings. However, the door withholding the enemy looks to be on its last gasp of life as it splits once more. A group of cheering Terrans begin to force their way through.

In panic a few of the locals turn to run down the stairs, only to see another red furred demon emerge from the potential sanctuary. Their long green ears drooping in dread before they bear their fangs and lift their weapons at the ready.

However, the third caving crash from the invaders disrupts the engagement. At least a dozen Terrans clad in thick hides and furs come barreling in with kinetic rifles. The locals open fire with their own projectile arms that create puffs of smoke with a revolving chamber to fire again. The doorway is peppered with shots catching an overzealous Terran square in the head.

“Torch ‘em goblin-look’n fuckers!” One of the Terrans orders.

Then a small cylindrical object is loosely tossed into the room. Before it’s halfway through its airborne-arc a wooden chair leg homeruns it right back though the open door.

The object explodes in a burning hellfire right as it lands in a powdered layer of snow, followed immediately by the screams of toasting Terrans. The closer ones collapse in pure agony as their flesh is devoured by the ever-burning gel concoction, while the rest roll and start to strip their burning clothes in a pained panic. The first to discard his heavy coat turns fails to see the incoming club concuss the side of his head. He may yet live, only to fall right into a patch of flaming gel to burn his unconscious body into vapor and ashes.

Snatching up his dropped kinetic rifle, Red allows her muscle memory to take over as she zeroes in on any remaining Terrans. While they stand, roll, and flail, she snaps the trigger to deliver a single bullet for each tattoo marked forehead she sees.

After she’s satisfied, she rushes on into the night in the direction where she hears the most intense fighting in relation to her current location.

The streets are in absolute chaos, locals that aren't running or hiding in terror engage the invaders with absolute ferocity. Although smaller and somewhat weaker in physical stature, they are natives of a deathworld. And despite their firearms not being on the same level, the projectiles tear through most of the Terran’s meager armor just fine. Hell, even most of the arrows from the defending citizens prove capable enough to put down a Terran.

Red can’t help but be in awe of this madness, this prideful insanity. She knows that this insane cult must have access to far superior technology. Are they really wasting lives for some backwards ideology? What’s the point of conquering a planet if there’s… hardly... anybody… left.

A possibility comes to Red’s mind. That Admiral… He told her that his cult was just a ‘branch’ of what he has at his disposal. He knows they’re insane and misguided… Is he counting on these fanatics to do what he might not otherwise be able to do? And by the end of it all, dispose of them?

A Terran bursts through a door, exiting a structure with a bleeding squirming local over his shoulder. He turns to see Red running up, unaware that she did not share the same creed. His eyes widen in surprise as a buttstock is first rammed into his gut and sequentially his face as he keels over. Falling back, the local crawls away, clearly injured from multiple gunshot wounds to their legs.

Not giving the man a second to speak his final words, Red ends his existence by causing his brains to shoot out the back of his skull and onto the snow-covered street.

The local desperately crawls back towards the building, completely ignoring the rescue. Red attempts to stop them, but it only causes the poor individual more stress. They claw back at redhead like a feral animal and after taking a step back Red can see building flames within the upper floor of the building. The local cries out specific words over and over again in anguish.

“Sintha! Noroha! Sintha! Noroha!”

It’s then, over the cries and surrounding battle being raged, she picks up small squealing voices from above in the midst of the flames. She leaps over the individual who attempts to claw at her again as if trying to halt her from entering. Thankfully it’s a wide miss, allowing Red to book it to a narrow spiral staircase meant for feet unlike hers. She pushes through the billowing dense smoke, following the concerningly softening squeals until she enters a small room. There up against the wall is a woven cradle of sorts, within it are two snugly small beings crying out for their parents. Wasting no time, Red scoops them up and carries them under her blanket cloak. She turns around only to see the rising flames challenging her exit path. Just in case she twirls and smashes at the wall with her rifle. When that doesn’t work she backs up as far as she can and in a hail mary she slams into the wall with her body.

From suffocating heat to crisp cold air, the red furred Terran drops along with minor clumps of rubble. Angling her body, she collides with the street and painfully slides for a few feet. She looks back to where the injured individual was, but to her initial fear they are not by the door. Red sits up and briefly searches, hoping the individual did not follow her into the now pyre of a structure. But to her great relief, she sees them down the street being carted off by more of their kind. A single individual pulls the small cart while another trails behind still applying medical care to the distressed passenger.

Staggering to her feet while coughing up a storm, Red hurriedly begins to pursue. She calls out in grunts and a raw voice, dropping her rifle to wave her open hand up to get their attention. The cart puller halts and runs back around to place their body between the other two and Red, aiming a bow.

Red attempts to speak in a calm manner, but a fit of hacking coughs causes her voice to bark. A warm sharp feeling impacts her shoulder just below the collarbone. A whole second later is when she notices the arrow shaft sticking out of her torso. Immediately upon seeing it, she drops to the ground, covering her cargo as a shield. She then waves her free hand ahead, trying to express she meant no harm. Peeking up, she sees the local prepped with another arrow, having a strained conversation with the other who is still working on the injured parent. Back and forth they yell in confusion making gestures to the redhead, no doubt debating what to do.

The Terran looks past them to the injured parent. They are still alive, but their movements have grown slow. Their face is consumed by despair. So taking a bit of a risk, Red slowly starts to get back up, but as the archer takes aim again she parts her cloak to show what she carries.

The archer’s four eyes narrow before expanding when they realize what the squealing bundles are. Whether it be from the shock or uncertainty, Red is allowed to gradually approach the cart. The protector and doctor silently part as Red holds the babies, and as she draws close the injured parent catches sight.

It’s clear from their expression that they don’t believe what they see, that perhaps this was the crossing into the afterlife. They speak in a soft cry, hesitantly reaching out for their young. It’s not until they make skin contact do they start to realize this isn’t a vision or dream. This is real, a monstrous demon is handing over who they thought perished. They accept their babies into a sobbing embrace, gently rubbing the side of their head against theirs.

Knowing she needs to move on, Red turns away without further indication of communication. However, a grasper firmly grabs her cloak. She turns to see the doctor nervously trying to get her attention. Giving them an acknowledging nod, Red waits to see what they want. Apparently taking this as permission, the doctor takes hold of the shaft sticking out of her shoulder and tears it free, immediately they move Red’s cloak away before pressing an adhering bandage of some sort over the wound. They hold it there until the adhesion solidifies, and backs away.

A bit surprised, but thankful Red gives them another nod and starts moving to retrieve her scavenged rifle.

“Thuunda! Thuunda dechach!” the parent calls after her in grateful cries.

Unable to say anything understandable to anyone in this moment, Red just scoops up the rifle, checks the magazine, and resumes on towards the worst of the fighting.

-

“The walls have been breached to the south!?” Meeki inquires as she limps up to a militia runner with Nodrin right at her side.

“No, not just that! A whole section of the southern wall has been obliterated! Reduced to ash! And then the demons came flooding in! The power of such explosives… what are these demons!?” the runner reports on the brink of a mental break.

“How many are there!?” Meeki presses, terror filling her chest.

“We don’t know… I was ordered to rally more defenders because they have yet to stop flooding from the forest… there must be thousands… upon thousands…” the runner explained before falling against a wall in despair.

Meeki turns to Nodrin.

“What are we going to do?” she asked her bondmate.

Nodrin trembles and gazes down to where the sound of absolute war rages. Even in this moment of contemplation the sounds grow closer and more intense in severity. Fires licked up into the sky like beacons of death and destruction, marking a path of eventual extinction.

“We are not going to win… And evacuation is likely impossible. If there’s truly that many invaders then the entire city must be surrounded. This is it. We must decide to surrender and hope for mercy, or perish fighting.” Nodrin states in absolution.

Meeki grasps Nodrin’s hands with hers, staring into their eyes for perhaps the last time.

“I know you’re not a fighter…” she whispers, “If you wish to stay here and help the injured-”

She is interrupted by Nodrin pressing their head against hers.

“We are bondmates, my cherished love. I’d rather face the evils of this world by your side and meet my end, rather than meeting it here alone without you. I’m with you, no matter where you take us. That’s how it has always been since the day I met you, and that is how it’s going to be for however long our future lasts.” they reassure, “Let us face this evil together, even if this shall be the last.”

Meeki fights back her soft cries as their fate settles in. Despite how Nodrin was always the cautious of the two, they held a bravery within them that at times surpassed hers. She may be willing to take brash chances, but to face the certainty of the end regardless of what can be done… This is a lot to bear alone.

“You have my eternal gratitude, my cherished love. You have been my strength and spirit. I pray our hands reach each other beyond the veil, and never let go.” she says softly.

Knowing Meeki isn't the slightest bit religious, Nodrin still takes in her words completely. Regardless of what lays beyond, they will be side by side.

“As do I… let us depart then. Will you be able to walk on your own?” Nodrin responds, pulling away.

“The pain is minimal and numb now. The doctors also gave me an extra dose to take before the attack.” Meeki informs as she readies her bow and checks on her arrows. She unholsters her knife and hands it over to her mate.

Nodrin looks it over for just a brief moment before attaching it to their side. Not the most effective weapon, but far better than nothing. They then go through their satchel, finding meager medical supplies reserved for travels. Again not much, but it’s something.

The two then move together towards the sounds of conflict, moving past fleeing Gratt who can not aid the fight. The sick, injured, elderly, children… Most others knew their duty to rally to protect them. Cowards are certainly commonplace, but one aspect about the Gratt people that pushed them through generations of evolution was their loyalty to the family, and to the whole of their kind. It’s a deep instinctual bond that remains when everything else is stripped away.

Sure, there are criminals such as thieves and murderers, however even the most deplorable specimens had the urge to defend their community. It’s simply in their nature, it’s how their world molded them to be. Little did their species know, this was to be the greatest test for their future.

“Is this my fault?” Meeki asks as they pass a bakery, “For bringing one of their kind here?”

“I’m uncertain. But if this is their reaction to one of their kind being taken… a conflict such as this would be inevitable.” Nodrin answers honestly, “Even if you were involved with the catalyst, there is no reality where you could have seen this happening. If it wasn’t you, it certainly would have been someone else. All that matters is what we do now.”

“Alright… I see the wisdom in that.” Meeki replies.

“But do you see the wisdom in heading to the jailhouse?” Nodrin points out.

“The red cave-folk is not on best terms with their people from what I know. I’d rather give it a chance than allow it to be trapped and killed by either side.” Meeki confirms, “I put them there, it's the least I can-”

Meeki and Nodrin halt when they make out the front of the jailhouse. Burning deceased corpses of the invaders strewn around the entrance. Red tinted snow surrounds the remaining flames. From within are the voices of injured and chattering Gratt, causing a sense of a sort of relief.

Maneuvering around the flames, they enter to see several armed guardsmen waving them in.

“Are you injured!? We are near capacity but we can try to help!” one asked, seeing Meeki’s limp.

“No, we are fine. What happened here?” Meeki inquired.

“We were assaulted by those now burning outside. We faced certain death if the red-furred demon didn’t break out of their cell and- well we owe it our lives.” the guardsman explains, “It left, but we’ve managed to secure a temporary field hospital down stairs.”

“Where did the red-furred one go?” Meeki presses.

The guardsman shrugs and points back outside.

“The fighting.” he answers.

Mekki turns to leave but Nodrin holds up a hand for a moment.

“Have you learned anything from the invaders? Anything of use?”

Before the guardsman can answer, a voice from the back corner of the room pipes up.

“They are far more advanced than us… by far.” A female Gratt informed as she and a male sit by a dissected weapon.

Nodrin and Meeki approach them curiously.

“What do you mean?” Nodrin asks.

The female gestures to the orderly jumble of metal and mechanisms before her.

“I’m a watchmaker, and the tools required to finely machine this kind of metal is far beyond me. The engineering alone to produce something like this could launch us into incredible strides of achievement!” she explained.

The aged male next to her nodded.

“I’ve been a blacksmith for most of my life… I’ve never seen this pure or strong sort of metal. And something tells me that even my hottest kilm would struggle to make this metal malleable enough to forge with. Whoever these invaders are… their garb is deceitful. They have technology that surpasses our own.”

“But we have figured out how these weapons operate, and we’ve been showing runners to spread the information. Using their weapons against them is imperative, and sharing the knowledge to whoever may survive this conflict even more so. Our people from across the world must learn from us, so they might be ready.” the watchmaker says, leaning back against the wall, their tail limp on the ground.

“What you’ve done is the work of heroes.” Nodrin states, “Be proud, this work may indeed spare more deaths from befalling our people. May you show us so that we can spread the knowledge?”

“Of course.” the watchmaker says, springing into action, “Short version; like ours you must pull the trigger to fire the projectiles. But rather than relying on the speed of a rotating chamber, these seem to use an ingenious repetitive internal mechanism that catches the projectiles from the top-attached canister. So it fires incredibly faster than anything we have at our disposal. So keep that in mind if you fire one, and if it stops shooting you must discard the top canister and replace it with another by holding down this switch.” the watchmaker entails as she points everything out and holds up pieces for the others to see.

Afterwards, the two leave the jailhouse with this vital information in mind, and all the questions that follow because of it.

“They must live underground!” Meeki realizes, “We’ve never seen them or their influence because they must live in vast cities under the soil. That must certainly be why I’ve found the red-furred one in the cave, it was the closest approximation of their home!”

“Perhaps, though they don’t really resemble something I would expect to live in such an environment. Whatever the case, I hope our people find the answer. If this attack is indicative of anything, it is that war lies ahead in our people’s future.”

Disheartened by that, Meeki nods. This isn’t what she set out to do, precisely the opposite. She just wanted to make first contact a much smoother one, and yet the scope of what she didn’t understand at the time nearly guaranteed that as an impossibility. Though the question still remained… why? Why have this army of cave-folk come in such a malicious force? This cannot be over a single individual right? Especially one that was seemingly shunned and exiled from them. For a people so advanced, why do they dress and act so primitive? Is it part of their culture when venturing to the surface world? Are they afraid of the Gratt learning from them? No, they wouldn’t so boldly make themselves known like this if that’s the case. What puzzle pieces is she missing?

The two stop, hearing combat from around the corner of a building. Readying her bow she peeks around, spotting three cave-folk firing upon a group of entrenched militia. Covering behind a section of tram the rate of incoming projectiles proves too risky to fire back effectively.

Meeki takes a deep breath, and so begins the ending.

“Pull me back after I fire.” she notifies her mate, uncertain if she can be fast enough to hide again with her injured leg.

Loyal hands take hold of her coat’s back.

“May you strike true.”

After a moment of steadying her hands, Meeki turns around the corner, takes aim, and lets the arrow fly. Before she can see if she hit her target she is pulled back around the corner. No later did it explode via peppering shots of projectiles. She readies another arrow after hearing the shots of her own people’s weapons and jumps back out when the incoming fire is diverted again. Excitement fills her soul, seeing all but one of the invaders gunned down by her diversion. At the last she looses another arrow and again is yanked back by her mate.

This time however, there is no horizontal death rain of lethal projectiles. She waits for a few seconds before taking a peak. Her people are now attending to their wounded with no invaders left standing. Two of the corpses with arrow shafts sticking out of their craniums like morbid flowers.

“It’s clear.” Meeki informed as she gilded her mate toward the militia group.

“Thanks for the assistance sister… we thought we were done for with them advancing.” the leader says as the couple approaches.

“Of course. We just arrived for the defense. Is there anything we need to know?” Meeki asked.

“The last standing orders we received was to hold and push if we can. As far as we know, Chief Warden Donrick is still holding out at Ancestor’s chapel. It’s been our base of operations, but it’s being heavily pressed. Runners are becoming a rare sight to see out here as well. Oh! Right! Apparently we have a demon on our side! We have been informed not to shoot pale demon with wild red fur. Though… there’s a few aggressive ones that fit that basic description so use your best judgment. Best way to tell if it’s friendly is that it’s alone and moving towards the invading forces.” the leader explains, “We can use any miracle at our disposal, because no one is answering our radio calls for help. For whatever reason… our village stands alone.”

Despite the graveness of the situation, Meeki can’t help but to smile softly. Hearing the red-furred cave-folk is out there, fighting for the Gratt… It's a small spark of hope for a possible peace in the future. That not all cave-folk stand for this onslaught against her people. It’s a tiny… tiny ember of hope… but it’s hope.

“Let’s recover the enemy’s weapons.” Nodrin says, “We are certainly going to need them.”

-

Red yanks a recovered blade from the throat of a Terran she just overwhelmed. She saw a group hiding out in this building along her warpath, so she decided to stop by for a visit.

She glances around at the five other bodies and pats them down for anything of use. By this point she wields a satchel stuffed with magazines. Not only for herself, but she’d been distributing them to the locals who’ve begun to use the Terran weaponry. She even provided a few quick demonstrations if needed.

Yet now… the end was still nowhere in sight. The locals have managed to make front defensive lines throughout the streets to hold back the invaders, but they are crumbling in many places and being pushed further back. She noticed that the strongest point of defense was a large thick-walled structure that operated as a pseudo fortress. But even that is nearing its brink of falling.

Red figures that’s the best place to go, because if the Terrans take it down then it might as well be all over. If that is where the battle is to be decided, then that is where she will be. Thankfully it seems word has gotten around that she was on the locals side. There has been a significant drop in ‘friendly fire’, although close calls are still abundant.

She can’t blame them, nor does she blame any potential local blasting her brains out by mistake. She’s fighting the people who think they can control her. So as long as that’s what she’s doing, her death will be worth it.

She sets off knowing full well that, regardless if she makes it to the fort, the battle will more than likely still be lost. The best she hopes for is proving that this insane invasion is not worth it to these fanatics. It’s a long shot, but with every kill she makes, the closer that possibility becomes real. Though, admittedly, that thought is nothing more than hopeful comfort, but that’s all she has in line of planning. To give these people the best chance she can, while she can.

It shocks her how many of the Terrans are barely -if at all- trained. It’s like fighting grown children most of the time as if they believe themselves to be invincible. They are terrible shots, and hardly coordinated at all. As if this is all some life or death playground.

“That’s because this first wave are the rejects… those who have not proven themselves to our standards. Much like you.” a hated man’s voice informs. His visage now running alongside her, “If they survive, they will be brought into the fold. Considering how effective they’ve been… this world will no doubt fall to our might. We are ready to claim this world as our own.”

This… wasn’t even their proper forces…? Red slows to a stop in the middle of a street, hope being wretched from her heart. There is no winning anything… is there?

“Now you understand.” the man praises as he proudly maneuvers to her front, “I extend this last olive branch to you. You are a warrior that can serve our cause better than anyone. It is in your blood, your body, your mind. You were born to fight! Fight for our people’s future!” he declares, holding out a hand to her.

Red’s weapon sags in her arms. Her rage, spent. The pointlessness of it all has never been clearer. She is fighting for no cause anymore, but fighting is all she knows. Fighting for herself? She doesn’t even know who she is! Not really. Maybe she never knew, even before this thing on her forehead.

She opens her mouth to speak, and to her surprise the man snaps his fingers. Immediately, the power of language is gifted back to her.

“Y-y-you’re right…” she says, nearly brought to tears by the sound of her own coherent voice, “S-some people… are only born to fight. That’s all they can do…” she admits, looking up from the ground to see a familiar young girl standing behind the man, flipping him the bird while sticking out her tongue.

“That’s right.” the man confirms, a pearly smile breaking from his rugged face.

“I was born to fight. I know it in my bones that I’ve been fighting for all my life, and that’s not gonna change.” her grip on the rifle tightens, “Not because I crave violence, not because I like killing people.” her furious eyes land back on the man’s, “Kole right? Well Kole, right now I am choosing to fight because I crave peace! I’m fighting because others need me! I don’t give a damn if our people are going to rot away from this universe! Because if this is the path we have to take to avoid it then we fucking deserve it! While I’m here I’m going to fight for everyone, fight for security for those that don't have it, and fight for joy because that is what makes life worth living! Who cares how much time we’re around for as long as we make it worth it!? Scum-fucks like you are the worst of us! Imagine all this effort around you being used to make the universe a better place! Fuck you and your caveman flavored fascist bullshit! Nothing lasts forever, you absolute fuck! We’re here for a good time, not a long time! Now, get out of my fucking way, you pathetic asshole! You’re not worth whatever time I have left!”

With that she barrels through the image of the man striding at a break-neck pace towards the fort. She can’t save this world, but she can fucking fight for it.

Thankfully, her renewed gait doesn’t cause any locals to open fire upon her. Even as she approaches the heated war zone in front of the fort steps. Kinetic bullets from both sides roar over everything else. Tossed explosives of burning flame ignite the field of battle as if the sun itself shines above. Red positions herself in a line of local defenders behind a makeshift wall of debris and opens a suppressive fire on an encroaching enemy position. Her allied soldiers only question her presence for a brief moment before they fully accept the aid.

Even with the surprise invader on their side, the battle still turns against them. Outgunned and outnumbered, the apparent call to retreat into the fort is given. Red does her best to cover for those around her, but still many get shredded as the remnants madly dash to the massive structure doors. She waits until the majority gets moving before she picks up a wounded local who can’t run on their own and books it to the doors. She takes pot shots back as she enters the fort, sets the injured down and aids in sealing the thick wooden doors shut.

However the door isn’t thick enough as bullets start to splinter through. It’s a miracle that only her leg is grazed as she dives away. Nobody dares to get close enough to even attempt to blockade, instead they retreat further back into the structure to find a hold-out position. Many groups splinter off in different directions and by chance Red joins up with a group heading up a long spiral staircase.It continues to go up and up until they scurry into the top of a tower. All the once vibrantly painted walls and windows meet ash and blood as everyone settles in. Red volunteers for the duty to rest against the door, as there is nothing up here to barricade with. She hears the fighting continue below as room to room engagements occur.

Preparing those she’s with, she roses her ammo satchel in the middle of the circular room, which is then picked clean and distributed among those armed with the enemy's rifles.

The one local that sits next to her boldly speaks out, their firm words address everyone in proximity. Red remembers them from when she was brought to this village. An older individual who now sports a new head wrap that covers their two left eyes. This is their equivalent to a military leader? It sure sounds like it. From the cadence, it’s clear it’s a honorable farewell to the soldiers around. The voice is full of pride and dignity, despite the odds of what’s to come next.

The redhead smiles, imagining their words. ‘It’s been an incredible honor to serve with each and every one of you. You’ve done your people proud, and served them beyond what is expected. Let us die well, knowing we showed these assholes that we are not to be trifled with!’

Along with the moral boost, someone points out a window shouting in horror. Leaning over Red sees it too. The underbellies of red vessels dropping down, one heading straight for-

Red doesn’t remember what happened next. She just finds herself hunched over the commander with dust clouding the air. Her ears ring as she shifts to look around. No one remains alive from what she can tell, and now the tower room has been blown asunder with a massive opening. A small vessel then lowers its side next to the opening, blocking the burning world outside.

A gleaming door slides open, allowing a single individual to step on in. He is clad in metallic armor with furs and bone adorning it. His helmet covers all but his face. A face brimming with rage and disdain.

“You think yourself above your own kind’s right to exist!?” he bellows. The remaining wall carries his thunderous voice to the prone redhead. The powerful vibrations confirming that this in fact… was no illusion. “Prove it…”

Shocked and sore, Red pushes up to her feet.

“I’m-I’m flattered you think you need that armor to kill me. I’ve been fighting nonstop for hours… fucking coward…” she utters, brandishing her rifle she pulls the trigger at the man… nothing. She hits the side of the weapon and test fires a single shot into the ground, it fires fine. Relieved, she takes aim at Kole again only for the weapon to lock up.

Kole barks a low laugh at the woman’s ignorance. He then reaches back into the vessel and enthusiastically throws a spear into the wall next to Red’s head.

“You’ve refused us and our aid, thus you receive nothing but what’s yours. I grant you a weapon out of respect, but I will put you down like the rabid dog you are, I assure you! Die as well as you can, Simone Thatch.”

With that he charges with another spear in hand. Simone yanks the ‘given’ spear free just in time to deflect a near-devastating thrust to her chest. Having no real training with this sort of weapon, all she can manage is to remain defensive. She swats the superior opponent’s attacks away from her for a time, but a strike catches her left side. She feels the warm fluids begin to leak but keeps at it.

Simone grunts from pain as she and this lunatic circle one another. She’s exhausted and outmatched in this reckless duel. Knowing she has near impossible chances at winning like this, she scoops up the firearm again. Clearly disappointed by her pointless attempt at an advantage, Kole strikes for her throat.

Swiftly, the redhead guides the point of the spear through the handle grip opening, catching the shaft. She then with both arms tilts and twists, using the leverage to snap the wood. Before the man can effectively swing the now staff she runs to him and racks the side of his protected head with the rifle. Ringing like a bell he attempts to back off, but Simone is persistent. She keeps the distance close, smashing her glorified club over and over again into his exposed face.

Until a solid right hook casts her to the ground, and then a harsh kick to her wounded side rolling her near the vessel-blocked opening. Not wanting to risk it, the flying transport pulls away revealing more and more troop ships descending from the sky.

Throwing his dented helmet to the floor and wiping the gushing blood from his nose away, Kole picks up the broken end of his spear. Wielding it like a dagger he storms up to the prone Simone.

“You’re through! Done! No more chances, no more tapping into your potential. You are nothing but a shame to your mother!” he roars as he gets on top to stab her.

She catches his arms just as the sharpened steel blade punctures just between her ribs above her heart. Her thick but malnourished arm muscles strain against his, both furiously pressing.

Simone stares into his cold piercing eyes, trying to figure out how someone with so much intelligence behind them could fall so low. How could they believe so wholeheartedly in this insanity? It’s odd… she actually feels pity for the man. Here in her final moments as he massed his strength to end her life… all she feels is pity… and tired… so goddamn-

From behind her, there’s an erupting of thunderous flashes followed by deep guttural explosions. Kole can’t help but to glance up and express confused horror.

Taking this chance, Simone jolts the spearhead out and launches her head into his. He flails back, but more by what he is witnessing. Turning her ringing head, Simone sees a flow of new vessels rocketing down while opening fire upon the descending troop ships.

Flashes of plasma and air rippling cannon blasts shred the invaders like wet toilet paper. Shrapnel and chunks of inhabiting Terrans rain down upon the village rooftops. It’s a glorious sight to behold.

“No! Don’t retreat! What are you doing!? Kole roars up at the scattering troop ships, “Send out combat vessels immediately!” Whatever is told back to him enrages the man further, “You fool Harkon! Curse you! Where is your loyalty!? HARKON!”

As the man scorns the sky, Simone crawls to her discarded spear. Unfortunately, she only gets halfway before she is kicked over and beset again. Hands clasp around her throat squeezing in mad fury.

“WHAT DID YOU DO! WHAT DID YOU DO!” Kole screams in raw rage.

Simone attempts to try to pry herself free, but Kole’s determination to snuff her out overrules her panicked will to live.

Her world darkens, but as if there’s a cut line… she remembers… everything… kind of… As it all comes rushing back at once it turns into a messy haze, nothing can be focused on as she squirmed for air.

But one thing, out of everything in this blazing mess Simone knows one specific feeling returns. The feeling that she was loved.

Air suddenly finds its way back into her lungs like a flooding river, her windpipe flexes open causing her to cough and hack as the world spins. It takes a moment, but when she gains her focus back… concealed glowing red eyes are looking down at her.

She knows those eyes.

Princess Chakalata’motaas freshly exited from her shuttle stands defensively over her Terran, clad in her golden power-armor. The gravity of this world is intense for her, but her suit grants her the power to stride with confidence. In her upper arms is her pulse rifle, still aimed at the Terran she shot off of Simone.

Her twin hearts race seeing her love still alive, and burns against the monster who nearly snuffed her out. With his armor horribly inwardly dented from the blast, he detaches it, allowing his shattered rib cage space.

“I… will not… fall… to a fucking… Cali…” he wheezes as he lurches at Chak.

Wordlessly, the next blast of the pulse rifle makes what was once a stoic face of Kole, Chief of the Children of Gaia, into nothing more than a stain on the back wall.

The headless body crumples down on the tower floor like a sack of rocks.

Practically throwing her rifle down Chak knees down, pressing firmly against Simone’s most egregious wounds.

“I got you! I got you!” she chirps assuredly.

Simone looks to her and softly smiles.

“I know you…” she utters, her voice all but gone, “Am I… are you… is it okay if I rest? I’m sorry… I’m so tired…” soiled tears rolling down the sides of her head.

With her lower limbs Chak pets the red fur atop her lover’s head with absolute tenderness.

“You can leave it to me. You’re okay now, you’re okay.” she whispers, “I got you.”