Reverence

by Joshua Landeros

  “Good, now lead the way.”

  Her trusty M-16 was at the ready. Chancellor Venloran and Major Johnson both cocked their Berettas. It’d been a long time since either had had to hold a firearm, but they both welcomed it. Kearney, with only the suitcase in hand, was an image of pathetic terror. Valerie eyed him closely.

  “I do have a spare pistol, sir,” she recommended, reaching for it.

  “No, no, I’m fine.” he reassured her.

  Everyone stared at him for a few seconds before turning back toward the door. Val opened it and spotted a small band of prisoners down the hall. While the majority of them had only small firearms, a few carried M-16s just like her. One wore the helmet of a UNR officer, a bloodstained handprint on it for kicks. He let out an odd yell, and even more scum showed up from around the corner of the corridor. Some were coming at them with daggers and batons, like raging mad animals that were beyond rational thought. Venloran felt rage pumping through his veins. He let loose the first shots, neatly cutting down the first wave of barbarians.

  Despite being a general and now a politician, he still had the fighting spirit of an infantryman. Val admired that. She and her trio of troops immediately opened fire as well, turning the white walls into a bloody mess. Their efficiency caught the sloppy prisoners were caught off guard, especially with Unit 23 on point. After just a few minutes, the so-called contingent was in shambles. Many gave up their posts and ran down the alternate hallway.

  “You fucking cowards!! The Chancellor’s right here!! Right here!” screamed the one wearing the helmet. He hurled one of the blood-spattered medals he’d taken off the officer at the fleeing bastards. They paid him no mind.

  “Fuck you!!” he yelled.

  As he turned his attention back to the firefight, the last of his makeshift underlings hit the floor, dead. Val walked right up to him, calmly. He tried to fire his weapon, but the clip only clicked. He backed up to run himself, but his back hit the wall. The scoundrel would’ve made a run for it, but the cyborg’s fellow soldiers instantly covered the corners, raining fire on the ones who had already abandoned him. Looking for possible get-a-ways, he realized there wasn’t one. And now, for the coup de grace, Val was only six inches from his face.

  The immediate area was at last secured. She reached out with one arm slowly, and the soldier flinched. Val couldn’t help but smile. She removed the helmet from his greasy looking hair, placing it upside down on the floor gently. After that, the cyborg carefully removed each medal from the prisoner’s uniform, placing them in the helmet. The others were up ahead now waiting on her, but she had one thing left to do.

  Val raised her weapon and smashed the butt of her gun into the center of the man’s face. Blood and bits of flesh flew everywhere, and his legs trembled only briefly before the body joined the others on the floor. That finished, she once again took the lead, not minding the blood on her face. She would clean it off only after the Chancellor was secured. The super soldier turned to face Kearney before continuing their trek.

  “Be sure to keep your head down, sir.”

  ***

  Will put up his hand for the men and women behind him to halt. He knew the infrastructure of HQ from top to bottom, and once through this hall, the path would lead into the enormous Recreation Chamber. Right past that was Weapon Department III, but it was damn obvious that a massive counter-strike force was awaiting them. He put his bloody sword away and set down the duffle bag. He scanned the dark hallway slowly. The cyborg looked back at the very large group. The few carrying weapons had taken positions around the vastly more numerous unarmed.

  He informed them that apart from the Chancellor's UNR Cruiser, there were only three other cargo choppers on the roof. It wouldn't matter though, because once they got to the Weapons Department, the prisoners would once again become soldiers and fight their way out. Many would die, but many would escape. Aside from that, it was better to be shot than to rot away in a cell. Halsey was a captain, one of the highest-ranking men among the prisoners, but they all possessed that same mentality. Will was a deity among mortals, but he could still gather that much.

  Halsey stood next to the cyborg.

  “When do we engage?”

  “Is that an attempt to amuse me?” he scoffed, “your forces would be demolished. Just hold this position until I give the all-clear.”

  Will was talking, but he wasn't looking at Halsey. His eyes were scanning for thermal images in the next room. He spotted several, and it was at this point it hit him.

  “Get down now!!”

  A bullet flew through the wooden doors and struck a female prisoner right in the forehead. Halsey felt bits of flesh fly onto his cheek before he hit the floor. Gabby held her weapon close to her but a second crack of thunder went off, and she felt warm blood in her hair. For an instant, she believed the bullet had struck her skull, but as the body of a prisoner dropped next to her, she let that foolish notion go.

  He'd taken a shot to the chest, and the fifty caliber round had gone clean through. There were several more shots fired and several more were hit. Will looked back at the group quickly assessing seven had been shot and killed. It was the clean work of snipers with thermal scopes, although he wasn't sure how many. He unzipped the duffle bag just as two canisters fired through the gaping holes in the wooden doors. Gas began to pour out of them.

  “We're pulling back!” yelled Jacob. Many had already fled just as Will picked up the weapon he knew was finally necessary. Jacob had never seen such a monstrosity, none of them had.

  Unit 21 kicked down the weakened doors, which shattered on contact. As he stepped out of the tear gas unharmed, every UNR soldier in the room recognized it: the AH-AW 67. Will had only a second or two to scan the large room. The Recreation Chamber was a vast place, one room he’d rarely visited in his time here. Within his database, however, he retained the schematics of every room, right down to the floorboards. The room was only dimly lit with emergency lights, not to mention the telescreen, which flashed system error, repeatedly.

  Will admired the boldness of the major's counter-strike. Over eighty troops formed a first offensive line, mostly armed with M-16s. Hiding in-between the aisles of the library was a second wave, although he wasn't quite sure what they had in store for him. On the upper floor of the library were fifteen snipers, from what he could see with his vantage point. It wasn't improbable that a fourth wave was hidden among the aisles of the second level. He'd always savored the fury of battle, something he had long ago admitted to himself. This time was different, however. He knew these faces. He'd fought with them before as allies. The M27 link of ammunition was draped over his shoulders. The gigantic weapon hummed as it started up. Neoartium plates protected the vital points from incoming bullets, making it incredibly sturdy. Altogether, it weighed over three hundred pounds.

  One of the bullets struck Will’s left pectoral armor plate. Will pressed down on the trigger and from the multiple barrels came forth a torrent of death. The soldiers on the front line were torn to shreds by the barrage of bullets. Whole limbs were blown off as body armor was pierced. Many were killed, but many tried to take cover. His killer instincts directed him to target the runners, and soon enough their blood gathered on the white carpet. The AH-AW-67 was a brute's weapon and virtually unstoppable head-on in close quarters like this. His enemies were less than thirty yards away. Perfection. Over half of the front line was in pieces and Will walked through piles of mutilated bodies.

  He felt several bullets strike his armor, blasting holes in his overcoat. The humongous gun slowed him down considerably, but nonetheless, it was getting the job done so far. Will felt several shots pass through his hair and strike the skull, drawing blood. He turned toward the bar, seeing several troops taking refuge behind the counter. One was armed with a Milkor MGL, locked, and loaded. The 40mm grenade might damage the AH-AW, so the soldier fired on them before they got that chance. The wooden counter with its luscious marble top was utterly decimated, among the s
hreds of debris remained chunks of what used to be men and women. The shattered bottles of various alcohols mixed with the puddles of blood.

  Pool tables were turned on their sides into makeshift shields, but they lasted no longer than anything else did. The soldiers behind them felt the bits of wood in their eyes before the bullets even hit. The cyborg turned his attention toward the lower level of the library. What was left of the primary wave had retreated between the aisles, or to the upper level. He decided to clean out the lower one first.

  The tall shelves of literature were not adequate shelter. In this battle no place was truly safe. Bits of wood flew everywhere, paper gently floating through the air as if it were snow. One soldier tripped over the body of another, finding the snout of his weapon only inches from his chest. Within seconds, it was impossible to recognize the man. More than two-thirds of the library was already gone, leaving almost no room to hide at all. Only ten or so UNR soldiers remained, with only two aisles to cower behind. After the shelves were obliterated, their backs would be against the wall. Will couldn't hear much over the roar of the colossal arsenal he held, but he did feel the fifty-caliber sniper round strike right under his left eye.

  The shot drew blood as a giant gash formed. The blow also exposed the neoartium. There was a sensation of pain, but Will had been trained not to allow pain to interfere with his work. Trained by Kane, in fact. Instead, he did what Kane always hammered into him: assess the situation.

  He looked past the chestnut railway of the upper level to spot the snipers.

  “Good shooting, kid, just about an inch off the mark. Remember, his eyes are our only chance,” instructed Hans calmly.

  Cisco only nodded, his face giving no indication of emotion. He intensified his focus, increasing the magnification so as to bring a halt to the slaughter below. The young soldier reloaded his gun, as Hans and the other far-range shooters fired on their target. A few rounds struck the big gun, but without consequence. Its defenses were astounding.

  Will aimed his weapon upwards and the storm of bullets came at Cisco and the others. At such an angle, the recoil even made his arms tremble, but he held it steady.

  Instantly many of the snipers were killed. Cisco was on his stomach along with Hans, but he rolled away quickly as blood began to shower down on his head. Will watched, as much of the crimson liquid dripped over the edge in a short-lived waterfall. When Cisco opened his eyes, he saw he was surrounded by fresh corpses. The railway was nothing more than splinters. One soldier was still breathing, cursing in fact. Cisco crawled over to him, only to realize the man's left arm was gone past the elbow. He couldn't bring himself to search for it, among the bodies. He held down the vomit he felt in his throat and ignored the man's calls, crawling back to Hans. He’d given his best, he’d shown no fear, but at this point logic screamed for them to retreat. Cisco grabbed him by his shoulder.

  “Hans, come on, let's fall back with the others!”

  He quickly let the guilt fade seeing as those that made it through the battle had run off to the aisles of the library. Those who tried to pull the wounded to safety were sent to the next world hand in hand. The few who'd been firing from the stairway ran past Cisco and Hans without a second look.

  “Hans...”

  Cisco saw now that his comrade lacked a head or most of one. He felt tears building, not sure how to react. He remained by Hans' fallen form, realizing he was smothered in a pool of blood, an aggregation of the mixed remains of the many fallen warriors.

  Will suddenly came to grips with the fact that he'd become too preoccupied with the upper floor. Before he could turn his attack back to the soldiers only a few feet away from him, a launched grenade hit the AH-AW in the rotating barrels. The explosion knocked Will on his back, but he instantly jumped back to his feet. The heavy machine gun fell in the massive carnage it had created. Will did not go back for his gun but ran at the soldiers.

  A direct hit to the firing mechanism ensured the AH-AW was of no use. The first soldier held an M4 Carbine assault rifle, a weapon Will didn't particularly like. Before the troop could land a bead on him, the cyborg delivered a fatal head-butt. The super soldier saw what he wanted in the hands of the soldier closest to him, an M4 Super 90 shotgun. A simple elbow to the man's neck was the only skirmish before making the weapon his, and a succession of shots took care of what was left of the battalion. Will wasted no time and leaped up to the upper floor. His boots splashed in the immolation beneath him.

  Cisco was still on his knees as a soldier came at the cyborg with an M249 SAW. The sound of buckshot boomed in the air. Another body hit the floor as Will threw the empty shotgun. He picked up the SAW, and judging from the weight knew it was near empty. In fact, the next target would be the last to feel bullets. The rest would fall by his saber.

  Will pointed the gun at young Aguilar, who put his hands into the air. The boy’s face was one that would not be easy to erase, in all likelihood impossible. The gunman refused to express this tension as he stepped ever closer.

  Cisco tensed as he remembered the doctrine passed down from father to son, from just about every teacher he’d ever had in his life: the cyborgs spare no soldier unless under orders to do so. In that field of mutilation all around him, filled with screams, tears, and more blood than he had ever envisioned, Aguilar stood straight as his arms began to lower. He bowed his head toward Hans. It was a pleasure serving with you, si–

  Will fired a trio of shots into the soldier's chest who fell silently next to Hans.

  ***

  Dr. Neeson felt his wrists being bound tightly by a coarse rope, causing his aged joints to ache. Due to the thick blindfold, he could not see the noose as it was lowered around his head, but he felt it tighten around his neck, a slight tug, securing its hold on his throat. Each exhale made it harder to catch another breath and his inhales began to shrink. He was helped off his knees to his feet. As his wrists burned, he was turned around and he felt his back against a cold surface. He could hear the sound of another pair of lighter footsteps.

  There were two people standing in front of him now, he could feel it. He felt calm, no chill along his spine.

  “Do you have any last words?” asked a female voice.

  “Only that I love my children and am ready to join my wife.”

  “Is that all?” said the other voice,” that can't be all. Here you are on the verge of leaving this earth forever and that's all you have to say?”

  “My legacy is one of shame. I'm happy to finally be free of it.”

  “Fucking beautiful, Doctor,” the male voice spoke again, “it's tragic that only a few days ago I pondered what a miraculous man you were, a god by all means. Now that I hear your pathetic eulogy, it's no surprise you chose to run and betray the UNR. Your sense of morality sickens me.”

  Dr. Neeson's eyes stung slightly from the removal of his blindfold. The lights in the room were dimmed, down to the point he couldn't make out the objects three feet ahead of him. As his eyes adjusted, he confirmed his suspicions. He knew those voices, he knew the faces looking at him, and he knew that at the very least, the one smiling at him madly knew the truth. The other simply stood there with beautiful eyes that conveyed nothing.

  “We are free of the vulnerabilities, temptations, and cowardice of men. We are the sentries of the new Eden, which pitiful men like you think is perverse. You won’t be forgotten, Dr. Neeson.”

  ***

  “All Clear! Move Up!” called the cold voice.

  The cowering prisoners all looked up and slowly entered the room. From the cramped quarters of the hall, they stepped into the vast Recreation Chamber. What they saw left them all disturbed.

  Covering the floor was a sea of bodies and bullet casings. The carpet was drenched from the fruit of the battle. Each footstep felt as if one was stomping through a puddle after the rain of a storm. Nothing in the room was left standing, object, or person. Two men led the group up the dual staircase at the far end of the room. On every step lay sold
iers whose armor had not saved them from death. Their collective blood seeped down each step in a series of waterfalls.

  Gabriella had never seen anything like it and yet it was impossible to look away from the carnage. She was surrounded by corpses that continued to stare at her as she walked past them. Hundreds of sheets of paper from shredded books covered much of the room and still more floated around like leaves. When they finally reached the floor, they too were soaked in crimson. The walls appeared as if clouds had gathered and drizzled blood against them. She wondered how beautiful the majestic room had been and yet now all she could gather was nausea. Her stomach snarled at her, but Alex vomited first.

  She felt a cold presence upon her and looked up at where a small lounge must have once stood. The couches were blown to shreds and doused with splotches of red. Standing there, overlooking the massacre was a sick perversion of a guardian angel. He used a snow-white handkerchief to wipe away the crimson from his elegant sword. Once the task was done, he slid the blade back into the sheath, which hung on his hip.

  The old warrior’s eyes were lifeless. He stood there above them all at the top of the dual staircase, peering all around the room. It reminded Gabriella of the fabled Valkyries. Soldiers both young and old, veteran and novice, men and women, all united in their death by his hands.

  Above him was an eloquent mural upon the ceiling thirty feet above them. It was a huge portrait of a cityscape with Chancellor Venloran‘s face lightly etched into the center of it all. Instead of a scenic depiction of sky and clouds in the background, the UNR flag flapped behind the skyline.

  In one brief instant, the two locked eyes. Before now, it had all been rumors and old myths. His prowess in combat was said to be exceptional, and while Gabriella believed it, she had never considered the weight behind such a power. She recounted the words of her father and Halsey. They had spoken of fields of bodies spanning for miles, all felled by a handful of the elite. The Elite 144, 000. She’d always assumed it was all an exaggeration, stories meant to frighten children and galvanize the rest. But now she stood in one of those fields herself. The Wolf, The Grim Reaper, those weren’t just flashy self-given titles. They were monikers of the past come back to life. Gabriella felt more shaken than comforted and looked away.