More Futurisitic Fun Than You Really Wanted, part I of V

[Eater of Clowns]

"For many of you, this is your first actual excursion," The Hessian addressed the four of them, "and for the others it's the first in some time.  We're going to take our time.  You might all be old timers in the tunnels, but as a unit we're green.  First item:  mirrors.  What have we found out?"

One of the new Hessians spoke up first, "The Paynites have been using mirrors in combat to some effectiveness.  There are rumors about a bigger plan,"

"We've heard the rumors, we've seen the fighting.  Do the rumors have any credence, or at least any details?"

"A siege weapon, basically.  Made of mirrors, allowing access to the Nessie's, er...hive or what have you," another said uncertainly.

"You know what," The Hessian spat, "we proceed as normal.  There are enough uncertainties right now without us adding one that we aren't even sure about.  Best of luck to the Templars.  Miller."

"Yes?"

"What do the reserves look like?"

"Two trained and working with the Templars.  They'll be rotating with the main force and participating in the training exercises."

"That'll be fine.  All of you put on the skin.  I'll be waiting for you at the entrance."  The Hessian put on his helmet and strode off.

The remaining four looked at each other quizzically.  They'd always gone together, from the briefing room until their return.  It was hard to think of him as their leader.  Certainly he was in a position of authority, but such was a product of their surroundings more than of his demeanor.  He'd stated, even, that their independence was crucial, to allow for intellectual freedom encouraged in their group.

The Hessian entered a small room off the tunnel.  An armored figure waited for him there, holding a map.  He asked it, "Are you ready?"

It nodded.

"I'm using you to test them, and you, of course.  You'll be going ahead and waiting at this intersection here," he pointed at the figure's map.  "When I break off, it'll be you returning to the party.  Are you clear on that?"

It nodded again.

"Good.  It'll be safe up there.  Head out and wait for my arrival."

His replacement did as he was asked.  Such is the trust I've built in them, The Hessian reflected, his eyes downcast for a moment in that little room.  They'll be alright.  I'm not what keeps them together.  A few breaths calmed his nerves.  Those had been acting up since he made his decision, for the first time in a long while.  He never thought there would be much to leave, but now he imagined there was even less to return to.

Four armored Hessians made their way to his position.  "Miller," he called.

To his surprise, it was the third in the line which answered.  Good.  "Disregard.  Let's go."

Through tunnels more familiar now than their homes, the five Hessians moved.  Dread filled their leader's chest, a song more insidious than that of their enemy.  It wouldn't be long.

As he'd stated, their pace was excruciatingly slow.  It was deliberate, but whether it was proceeding with care or avoiding his next step, he could not tell.  When they arrived at the spot, he paused.  He signaled for them to wait, and he walked to the right.

Around another bend was the armored figure he'd met.  They faced one another.  Each of them nodded.  The figure swept past him to join the others.  The Hessian placed his hand on the figure's chest, stopping him.  For a while they were like this as The Hessian shook his head, looking in the other direction.  The recruit stepped back.

[Eater of Clowns]

When their fifth finally rejoined them, the Hessians continued along the path.  They would push forward, as always.  Sometimes they would notice that as hard as they fought, as dangerous as it became, their fight the next day would still be closer to home than it was the day before.  Today was one of those days.  Nessie's song began faintly, a lone singer, then another.

They tensed, almost as one, and began to move their backs to one another, ready for a rapid sweeping attack like the last time.  It was hard to tell with the echoes and the beating of their hearts how many Nessies were coming.  Or how close they were.  With all the nerves they mustered in their training, this part never became easier.

There were seven, when they finally charged around the corner.  Ready to strike at the first sign they might bowl past, the Hessians watched as monsters came.

"They're stopping the charge," Miller shouted, "ready for the strike, just like training."

A Nessie was before him.  It drew itself up.  Miller thrust his weapon forward at the precise right moment.  His attack was perfect.  Exactly how the Nessie was anticipating.  The strike did not land.

"They're feinti-" came a voice in their helmets amidst the rest of the noise.

Already a Hessian had fallen.  His target, wounded but not dead, joined the other two focusing on a single fighter.  Templar instincts kicked in as the remaining four realized their well controlled thrust would not work.  A Nessie went down as Miller threw himself about the chaos.

Another cry came out, blood lust or pain none could tell until a second Hessian was struck by the flailing, merciless limbs of the Nessies.  They could disguise their fake strike, but the real one still looked the same.  Each of the three standing managed to kill their attackers, evening their numbers.

The remaining three Nessies turned and fled, their exit as quick as their coming.  In the few seconds in peace, the team still living breathed and slumped.  They glanced at the two laying still, just briefly, before returning their eyes to the tunnels.

Nessie resumed her song.

*********

After a few turns through the sewers, he arrived at an alcove.  In it, a small pack.

He removed his helmet first.  Piece by piece the suit was dismantled like so many times before.  He piled it as neatly as possible.  They would be by soon enough to recover the equipment.  And by then, he thought, as he put on the last of the surface clothes that survived down in this world of filth.

He was swifter without the cumbersome servo-powered steel.  And more silent.  The walls were sweeping past at a speed their regular pace left him unaccustomed to.  There, ahead, lay another pack.  This one was beside a ladder, and beside the latter, a man.

"Chaplain," he said, unable to even pretend surprise.

"Hessian," said the chaplain.

"Not anymore," he told him, "there is none anymore.  There are The Hessians, but I suppose they'll have to call Miller something else.  Make sure they do.  I don't want myself confused with some punk like him.  Your armor is back a ways.  You shouldn't have trouble finding it.  Now if you'll excuse me."

"And if I don't?"

"You know, it never occurred to me."

"This isn't some little rule that you're bending this time," the chaplain told him.

"I've done all I can do.  The rest of them will keep it going.  You don't have any reason to keep me here."

"You're only a nuisance down here.  Up above I think you might be a real problem."

"Only a nuisance?  Now you're just insulting me," he grinned.

The chaplain stood there a moment, then held out his hand.  "Best of luck to you, Hayes."

[East Coast Hustle]

I have a question for you, EoC...


what the fuck are you doing working for a living, man? Some people have an extremely high aptitude for writing, but you've got a fucking talent.

[Eater of Clowns]

I have a question for you, EoC...


what the fuck are you doing working for a living, man? Some people have an extremely high aptitude for writing, but you've got a fucking talent.

Thanks, ECH.  If it gives you any hint as to my life decisions, I am making this entirely up as I go along.

[East Coast Hustle]

That's what I mean by the difference between talent (innate ability) and aptitude (learned skill). If you're this good off the top of your head, well...

ECH,
envious, but in a good way

[The Good Reverend Roger]

I have a question for you, EoC...


what the fuck are you doing working for a living, man? Some people have an extremely high aptitude for writing, but you've got a fucking talent.

This.

EoC, you need to copy your stuff, put it in a word file, and repost in another thread.  I think you've got publishable material here.

[Dysfunctional Cunt]

I have a question for you, EoC...


what the fuck are you doing working for a living, man? Some people have an extremely high aptitude for writing, but you've got a fucking talent.

This.

EoC, you need to copy your stuff, put it in a word file, and repost in another thread.  I think you've got publishable material here.

TITCM!

[Luna]

Agreed.  I see your name as a new post on this thread, and I read everything else... and save this for dessert.

[Adios]

I have a question for you, EoC...


what the fuck are you doing working for a living, man? Some people have an extremely high aptitude for writing, but you've got a fucking talent.

This.

EoC, you need to copy your stuff, put it in a word file, and repost in another thread.  I think you've got publishable material here.

I agree. I am also envious.

[Eater of Clowns]

Wow, coming from you all that really means a lot.  Thanks.

I have a question for you, EoC...


what the fuck are you doing working for a living, man? Some people have an extremely high aptitude for writing, but you've got a fucking talent.

This.

EoC, you need to copy your stuff, put it in a word file, and repost in another thread.  I think you've got publishable material here.

Okay, sure.  I'm not sure I'm following, but is it alright if I keep contributing to this thread?  I'm really enjoying the collaborative aspect.  I'll toss my own collection from this one in Bring & Brag.

[Luna]

Wow, coming from you all that really means a lot.  Thanks.

I have a question for you, EoC...


what the fuck are you doing working for a living, man? Some people have an extremely high aptitude for writing, but you've got a fucking talent.

This.

EoC, you need to copy your stuff, put it in a word file, and repost in another thread.  I think you've got publishable material here.

Okay, sure.  I'm not sure I'm following, but is it alright if I keep contributing to this thread?  I'm really enjoying the collaborative aspect.  I'll toss my own collection from this one in Bring & Brag.

If you do not, I will find you.   

[Eater of Clowns]

Posted.  It takes up 39 pages of a file with a page break at the end of each entry, and it's over 11,000 words.  WHEN AND HOW DID THAT HAPPEN!?

[Don Coyote]

Posted.  It takes up 39 pages of a file with a page break at the end of each entry, and it's over 11,000 words.  WHEN AND HOW DID THAT HAPPEN!?

I will explain...in WOMP-O-VISION this weekend.

[Cardinal Pizza Deliverance.]

Posted.  It takes up 39 pages of a file with a page break at the end of each entry, and it's over 11,000 words.  WHEN AND HOW DID THAT HAPPEN!?

That is how awesome happens. Step by step until you pause, for whatever reason, and realize you're on top of the mountain instead of under it.

You really are gifted, dude.

[Luna]

Posted.  It takes up 39 pages of a file with a page break at the end of each entry, and it's over 11,000 words.  WHEN AND HOW DID THAT HAPPEN!?

Apparently, when this shit works, we CAN act as muses for each other.

Though I don't recall the artwork of any of the classic muses involving standing behind an author holding a barstool with which to crease said author's skull if he didn't produce... but I think that was probably just artistic license.  And marketing...  The boobies sold better.