The woods near the DC stronghold were dense and ancient, their towering oaks stretching toward a sky that had just begun to lighten, the pale gray of dawn creeping through the canopy, casting long shadows that shifted with the rising light. The air was thick with the scent of damp leaves and earth, a faint chill lingering as the morning broke, the faint hum of the stronghold’s force fields a distant buzz through the trees, a constant reminder of the danger ahead. Killy and Lane moved silently through the underbrush, their boots crunching softly on the leaf-strewn ground, their Tridents in hand, the fluid still dark but ready to flare at a moment’s notice. They navigated the uneven terrain with caution, stepping over gnarled roots and ducking under low branches, their movements purposeful but tense, the tunnels to the stronghold their goal, the weight of the mission pressing on them like a physical force. Sprocket clung to Lane’s shoulder, his fiberoptic tail glowing a faint yellow, the patterns steady as he scanned the woods, his small body tense with alertness, his cybernetic ears twitching at every rustle of leaves in the breeze.
Killy activated the comm device at his belt, the faint static crackling in the quiet morning air, a sharp contrast to the soft chirp of early birds waking in the trees. “Checking in, mission control,” he said, his voice low but steady, the device humming as it connected to Hux’s lab. Reese’s voice came through first, eager but focused, “Finch 1 here, all systems green.” Clay’s voice followed, his excitement palpable, “Finch 2, ready to roll!” Nora chimed in, her tone calm but determined, “Finch 3, we’ve got you covered.” Junior added, his voice steady, “Mission control is up—drones are live.” Hux’s voice cut through, rapid and energetic, “Kids are doing great, Killy. Deploying the bird drones now.” Killy’s shoulders eased slightly, a quiet exhale escaping him as he heard their voices, the trust he’d placed in them validated by their readiness.
Through the war room’s monitors back at the lab, the kids piloted the drones, their fingers clicking on the controls, their chatter a soft hum over the comms. Two of Hux’s bird drones flitted through the woods, their plastic feathers rustling as they hopped from tree to tree, the soft whir of their wings blending with the natural sounds of the forest, their cameras scanning for patrols, the creak of branches under their weight a faint echo in the underbrush. A third drone soared above the canopy, its sensors sweeping the broader area, the faint hum of its propulsion a distant note against the dawn sky. Reese’s voice came through again, her tone focused, “All clear so far, no patrols until you get much closer to the tunnels. You’re good to move.” Killy nodded, a spark of relief cutting through the tension in his chest, the kids’ voices a lifeline as they pressed forward, their support a quiet strength he leaned on in the face of the Shill’s looming trap.
The two men continued their trek, the woods growing denser as they moved, the shadows deepening under the thickening canopy, the air heavy with the scent of moss and decaying leaves. Lane broke the silence, his tone curious but tinged with a need to understand, his voice low to avoid carrying through the trees. “What was it like at Pine Hollow?” he asked, stepping over a fallen branch, his movements careful but fluid. “How’d you end up being the one everyone looked to?” Killy’s expression tightened, a flicker of memory crossing his face as he ducked under a low-hanging branch, the rough bark scraping against his jacket. His voice was steady but reflective, the weight of the past heavy in his words. “I wasn’t in charge—not really. People just came to rely on my judgment, my resourcefulness, especially after things started falling apart. They needed someone to step up, and I was there, trying to keep us together, to keep us alive.”
He paused, a hint of regret creeping into his tone, his thoughts drifting to those early days, the memory of Dave’s steady voice echoing in his mind, a calm anchor in the chaos. “Maybe things would’ve been better if they’d looked more to Dave, Junior’s dad,” he said, his voice quieter now, the guilt of those days surfacing like a wound that hadn’t fully healed. “He had a way of keeping people calm, thinking things through, planning for the long term. I just… did what I could, reacted to what was in front of me.” He continued, his voice growing heavier, the crunch of leaves underfoot punctuating his words, “I was completely in the dark about how many survivors there were out there, who the Ascendancy even was. I thought we were alone, just us against the world, until it was too late—until they came for us.”
Lane nodded, his expression softening, a shared understanding passing between them as he adjusted the pack on his shoulder, the faint clink of EMP devices a reminder of their mission. His voice was softer, reflective, carrying the weight of old memories as he spoke, the hum of the drones overhead a faint backdrop to his words. “I was just 11 at the Cutoff,” he said, his tone heavy with the scars of that time, a memory flashing through his mind—the cold sound of his father’s voice, Victor’s orders to deploy drones, the grainy reports of destruction flickering on a screen. “My father told me what was happening, but I didn’t want to believe it. Refused to, actually, until I saw the reports myself—neutron bombs, drones wiping out entire cities, military installations turned to ash, the sky lit up with explosions. I was just a kid, but I still regret it, you know? That there was nothing I could’ve done to stop what happened, to save anyone.”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Killy’s voice was firm but kind, offering absolution as he stepped over a gnarled root, the damp earth soft beneath his boots. “My wife and daughters’ deaths weren’t the fault of an 11-year-old kid, Lane,” he said, his tone steady, a quiet strength in his words. “And you seem to be doing a good job of not going along with it now, even before Junior and I came along. You’ve been fighting back in your own way—faking your death, helping us. That counts for something.” Lane’s shoulders relaxed slightly, a faint nod acknowledging Killy’s words, the weight of his past a little lighter in the shared understanding, the rustle of leaves in the breeze a soft counterpoint to their conversation.
Their moment of connection was shattered by a sudden chitter from Sprocket, his tail flashing red, the patterns flickering rapidly as he tensed on Lane’s shoulder, his voice high and abrupt, cutting through the morning stillness. “Hi Kimmy!” he squeaked, his small body trembling with alarm. Lane paused mid-step, frowning as he looked down at the squirrel, his voice low but urgent, “What’d you say, lil buddy?” Sprocket pointed a tiny paw at a nearby tree, his voice insistent, “Kimmy here! Kimmy in that tree!” Before they could react, Kimmy leapt down from the branches, her Trident ablaze with green plasma, the blade humming with lethal energy, its light casting eerie shadows across the leaf-strewn ground. Her black armor gleamed in the dawn light, but her officer’s emblem was gone, stripped from her uniform, and a new cybernetic implant glowed red where her left eye had been, the light pulsing with a menacing rhythm, casting a faint red hue on the bark of the trees around her.
Kimmy attacked without hesitation, her movements swift and furious, her voice a scream of rage as she lunged at Lane, her Trident slashing through the air, the hiss of the plasma blade a sharp counterpoint to her words. “Your father thought I was in league with you!” she roared, her tone raw with betrayal, the red glow of her implant pulsing faster with each word. “He exiled me, tortured me, took my eye!” She landed a kick in Lane’s gut, the thud of the impact echoing through the woods, sending him staggering back, his Trident flying from his hand, the weapon skidding across the leaf-strewn ground with a metallic clatter, leaves scattering in its wake.
Killy reacted instinctively, diving to catch Lane’s Trident mid-air, his hands closing around the weapon as he now wielded dual Tridents, their blue plasma blades flaring to life with a steady hum, the glow illuminating the shadows of the woods in sharp bursts of light. The strain in his arms was immediate, the weight of two Tridents unfamiliar, but he steadied himself, his focus narrowing as he parried Kimmy’s strikes, the plasma blades clashing in bursts of light, sparks flying as green met blue, the scent of charred wood filling the air as a stray strike grazed a nearby tree, leaving a blackened scar on its bark. The fight intensified, their movements a blur through the woods, branches snapping underfoot, the crackle of plasma blades a constant rhythm as they danced around each other, the ground uneven beneath their boots, the leaves crunching with each step.
Kimmy’s rage was unrelenting, her screams echoing through the trees, her voice a mix of pain and fury, “Victor thought I betrayed him for you, Lane! He made me pay for your betrayal!” Her cybernetic implant pulsed with each strike, the red light a stark contrast to the green of her blade, her movements fueled by a desperation that made her dangerous, unpredictable. Killy held his ground, the dual Tridents a challenge but a necessity, his arms burning with the effort as he blocked her attacks, the hum of the weapons a steady counterpoint to the chaos of the fight, sparks raining down like embers as their blades met again and again.
Lane recovered, his breathing ragged as he dodged Kimmy’s next strike, her blade narrowly missing his shoulder, the heat of the plasma searing the air as it passed. He pulled a tranq dart from his belt, his hands quick despite the ache in his gut, waiting for an opening as Killy kept Kimmy occupied, their blades a whirlwind of light and sound. Lane saw his chance, darting forward as Kimmy overextended, and landed the shot, the dart embedding in her lower back with a soft thud, the effects almost immediate. Kimmy stumbled, her movements slowing, her hand woozily reaching to pull the dart out, her fingers fumbling as she looked at it, her voice slurring, a mix of frustration and disbelief in her tone, “Dammit, Lane, will you quit drugging me!” She swayed, her Trident deactivating with a faint hiss, the green blade vanishing as she collapsed, unconscious, her body crumpling to the ground, the leaves cushioning her fall, the red glow of her cybernetic implant dimming as she faded.
The woods fell silent, the rustle of leaves settling in the aftermath, the faint chirp of the drones overhead reporting all clear, their soft hum a distant reminder of the kids watching from the lab. Killy and Lane stood panting, their breathing heavy, sweat beading on their brows, the ache in their muscles a testament to the fight’s intensity, the dual Tridents in Killy’s hands still glowing faintly, their blue light casting a soft glow on Kimmy’s unconscious form. Lane retrieved his Trident, his movements slow, the strain of the fight evident in his posture, the guilt of Kimmy’s words weighing on him, her accusations a fresh wound he couldn’t ignore. Killy deactivated his own Trident, the fluid darkening as he lowered the weapons, his arms trembling slightly from the effort, the tunnels to the stronghold now closer, the mission continuing despite the setback, the Shill’s trap a looming threat they couldn’t escape.
