Mhaieiyu

Arc 1, Chapter 18

The Champion, The Guardian, The General

A pair of padded feet devoid of footwear hurriedly splashed against a puddle of dirty water, distorting its form and spreading its filth across the one-way lane. To venture across these roads was dangerous enough, but more so were the mob of youngsters that swiftly drew closer, navigating and shortcut-ing their way through impressive displays of parkour and quick-thinking; a skill acquired no doubt through years of living and depending on these blemished streets, getting by primarily through theft and other ill-willed mischief. To blame the youth would be almost unfair; how else were they to survive in such cold a place? Decent work was scarce, and the factories were known for their unforgiving standards — often leading to injuries from unguarded machinery, malady from the bacteria feeding ground the danker depths of the refineries had turned into, and in the worst case scenario, death.

Forgiveness aside, the Lypin being pursued was understandably terrified. To be chased down in such a way was a faint reminder of their ancestor's struggles with predators, and the lack of officers or decent folk at night made crime all the more alarming. For while thievery was a common crime, so too was violence. A less forgivable misdoing, many of the more frustrated Urchins practiced violence as a means to satiate their denied sense of control, both by their own ranks and the brutally efficient authorities that long overshadowed the meeker, more intolerating police. In fact, if there was anybody even the middle-class Urchins had any feeling of superiority over, it was the extinguishing police force. For even they dared not patrol at night, when they most often roamed.

Like a rabbit caught in a trap, the Lypin felt their heart sink as they reached a dead-end alleyway, turning to face the half-a-dozen crooked-toothed and rowdy Urchins that had engaged such a pursuit. They each wore menacing faces, with sickly smiles and playful stares. Some of the lot might've even been under the influence. Truth was, there was a reason they acted in such unnecessarily fiendish ways. Many Urchins were measly humans, and thus had little to intimidate with if not for reputation. Like pirates, violence wasn't just a pointless game of stress relief. To harm the uncooperative gave the criminals a strong reputation, that would surely only grow stronger for each occasion. Through these means, perhaps their next target wouldn't hesitate to give in to their demands. At the end of the night, a successful gig took into account not only the jewels and bills plundered, but the injuries sustained. Admittance into a hospital was an option, but you might as well be giving yourself up to the authorities.

The anthropomorphic rabbit, whose perked up ears drooped in defeat, watched both life and death glint in one of the thug's unclean knives. To be grazed with such metals would mean a nasty trip to the hospital, if it didn't kill you first.

Before they could quite start the pillage, however, the sound of a motorbike skimming by distracted the crowd. And thus, just as silence began to settle once more, a series of gunshots rang through the alleyway; all eyes turning to a man on a bike, who had reversed back to the entrance of the dim back street. He wore a full set of Syndicate-issued armour, a Nynx suit, which masked his face from view. His sex was noted only through the design of the suit, which carried a strict resemblance to other suits of equal gender.

Through a voice-distorting device, the officer yelled out, much to the panic of the criminals. Relief washed over the rabbit's spine as he finally exhaled a deep breath, watching as the six Urchins quickly clambered their way toward the exit, narrowly avoiding the soldier's assertive figure, as if they worried they would be plucked from the ground by the mechanically enhanced super trooper. No bodies, nor blood, lay on the grimy concrete beneath the Lypin's feet. Any gunshots were directed at the sky as warning blanks, which gave the rabbit a sense of security to step forth and welcome the night's air once again, still trembling as they did.

"Thank you, officer," the rabbit expressed, the gratitude in their voice leaking with nervousness. Adrenaline, most likely. It's not everyday you face your maker.

Cracking his neck through his suit, the soldier gave a single nod, before taking off on the bike. Hopefully the dumb thing had the mind to head home without a warning. It'd be their consequence to live with, otherwise.

The classically-styled bike roared as it blasted through at full speed, catching up with a more modern pair as they continued their march to the horizon. Skimming by the illuminated roads was a somewhat tranquil experience, though the lights did dazzle the veteran somewhat. The raw smells of gasoline and the suffocating smells of the permanent haze littering the sky above were impeded by the suit's interference. It was a somewhat controversial fact that labour mixed with this air could lead to faintness or nausea, so the protection from the smog was an unsettling necessity. The toxicity of the air was, in fact, the cause of decease for at least a few dozen more compromised individuals a year, and often cut life expectancy within the city significantly, especially that of humans.

"Everything alright?" Kev asked, his voice ringing through a headset installed into the headgear.

"Aye, just some knob. People need to seriously buckle up at night, shité," Emris replied.

"No incidents? Kills?"

"Nay, just a bunch of kids. I let 'em off easy."

"Good man. Wouldn't expect less from you," the General complimented, the three taking a turn for the left.

The city was somewhat symmetrical in shape, even within its core. The buildings grew taller closer to the centre, but the environment felt unchanging, as if every building, road and shop had been carefully put into place with some degree of precision. And with the eastern districts in proximity, the foul smells of industrial processing began to permeate throughout the air ahead, thankfully masked away with the brilliance of technology.

"Are we takin' the shortcut through the north-east?" the Third Brigadier inquired, dropping low to make a sharp turn. Emris was quite skilled with the old thing, even if it had been a while since he'd taken his beloved bike. "Betty ain't gonna like the dirt. Yer payin' for my tires."

"It's the best path, I'm afraid. Frontside on the pure east is in a haymaker at the moment — I can almost hear the guns now."

With their destination confirmed, Emris grumbled lowly, becoming more daring in his driving. "Fine, fine. I'll fly then."

"Permission denied. Your suit still needs calibrating; it'll be overwhelmed," Kev declined, earning a louder groan from the Brigadier's disgruntled gullet.

"Fine, but I'm givin' her a spin. Patchin' her up's gonna take a while."

Watching his old comrade speed up, just to engage in a plethora of dangerous manoeuvres and tricks that would have just about anybody demand he be responsible lest an incident took place, the General couldn't stop himself from chuckling to himself, turning to the third driver with curiosity. Enabling his communicator once more, Kev's voice infiltrated the First Brigadier's thoughts.

"How are you holding up? You're being quiet, soldier."

A few seconds of silence filled the gap between the two, Xavier responding in a somewhat unfocused, unbelievable tone. "I'm fine, Captain Apex. My eyes and ears belong to the road."

"It's been a while since you've driven, aye. But are you sure?" Kev insisted, trying to pry one last time at Xavier's worries. While he knew better than to nip at a man's deeper issues, he felt obliged as a squad leader to do so.

"I'm fine, worry not. Please keep your attention focused on the drunk. I fear his life is hanging off a thread right now."

Just as he said so, Emris' tires skimmed in a troubling way, the veteran managing to stop himself from crashing by the wind of his breath. Kev sighed through a mature cackle, deciding not to pay either of his subordinates too much mind. The road ahead was long, and they had to hurry if they wished to slip past the border before sunrise, when avoiding conflict would become virtually impossible.

♦ ♥ ♣ ♠

A painstakingly long silence took over the room, as Chloe blinked in confused apprehension. The teen looked different from when he entered. His anxiety and stress had morphed into a disturbing visage of adamant resolution, with a sliver of worry, though not for himself. Tokken's body was no longer slumped, arched or timid, but more rigid and tall, trying to assert himself to his less-than-honourable surroundings. As the lad waited for her answer, he put on some clothes provided by the Syndicate for their workers, not speaking a word so as to not force her answer.

"Do you mean... back to the forest?" she finally asked, the question having been stuck in her throat for the entire time. If his answer confirmed her fears, she knew that in doing so, she would likely lose one of her only friends in a long time. The time they spent in this Facility wasn't exactly pleasant, but at the very least, this boy was with her. Would he be the same after all of this? Would he ever return to his more docile state? Was that peaceful smile of his uncharacteristic of him?

"Yes. We can't risk staying here," Tokken answered, a frown appearing on the Howler's face.

"But why? I don't think they'll hurt us..."

"We don't know that. If they can kill children, then I have no doubt they lack morals or reason. I don't want to stay here," Tokken expressed, his emotions hidden by a wall of seclusion and turmoil-addled disdain for the Facility. It was only then, that Chloe's eyes widened in understanding. The look in the youth's gaze was not that of hate, but of overwhelming fear. The fight or flight response was in effect, and now that she comprehended that, she finally felt genuine pity for Tokken's desperate actions.

"Those children, they aren't what concern you, are they?" Chloe asked, almost shushing herself for her outlandish question. She didn't even process what she said before she did, but it was too late to take it back. Tokken looked back at her, his words stumbling as if an infant's petty lie had been uncovered all too suddenly.

"W—What? Of course it concerns me, they're kids for crying out loud!" Tokken exclaimed, almost offended. At the very least, the revelation raised her spirits a bit.

"You're scared of them doing the same to you," the canine concluded, a small smile on her face. "Honestly, don't you think they would have a reason to do what they did?"

"What? Killing kids?" The lad furrowed his brows. "Like what? They felt a little bit power-hungry so they just starting offing some innocent children?"

"I'm just saying. I haven't seen them do anything too messed up. People seem pretty happy here; don't you think you should get the context first?"

"If there was any context, why didn't Fely speak about it?" Tokken challenged, to which Chloe could only murmur unintelligibly in response. Sighing, the boy continued to pack his few belongings, noticing the long-wilted herbs he had gathered days prior. "Look, I don't feel comfortable here. I don't know what these people are really like, and frankly, they creep me out enough already. Knowing what they've done, and seeing that one of their bosses doesn't want to talk about it..."

"It makes you scared, doesn't it?" Chloe asked, trying to gently pry honesty from the youngster's mouth. To make him swallow his pride and show his humanity.

"Yeah. It scares me to all hell..." Tokken finally admitted, much to the satisfaction of the canine. Turning to her, with all his belongings in check, he offered her a hand. "My only request, is that you'll come with me. I don't want to walk home alone; I doubt I'd make it."

Looking down at Tokken's extended hand, Chloe pouted, looking back up at the lad with a silly face. And then, placing her paw upon his palm... "Of course I'll go with you, dummy. I don't have much to gain here, now do I? Besides, I am getting tired of all this depressing human stuff."

The boy chuckled at first, and then softly laughed, wiping a tear from his eye. For a moment, the Cryptid could've sworn she heard a choked sob. "I can agree with you there," Tokken said. "Let's go then, shall we?"

With a comforting smile, and closed eyes, she nodded. "Yes, let's. I think I've had enough human smells for now."

"Hey! What about me?" the lad complained, his tone lightening to a tone she found comfortable.

"I'll have to make exceptions," Chloe rebutted, a small blush shining on her face.

♦ ♥ ♣ ♠

"ETA is 5 minutes," the authoritarian voice declared, responded with a quick confirmation from his subordinates. It had been a few hours now, and the sun would soon grow on the horizon. Speeding up, the trio of bikers continued their rush through the mountains, having left behind the vast industrial monopolies and life-staining machinery that thumped within. The surroundings of this mountain had fewer trees than a forest might, yet still didn't lack any vegetation. They were nearing the territory where Minotaurs were most abundant, and such could be verified by the long-chopped tree stumps that lay wastefully and old with increasing abundance the further they ventured north. The cluster of mountains they drove upon were considerably tall; the highest of the bunch's summit obscured by an indefinitely raging storm of snow. Encrusted into the giant boulders were several engravings, openings and light sources, marking the definitive residence of these stone-carving bulls. Surrounding these mountains were huts and defensive walls, where the more militaristic individuals lived and worked on.

Of course, hiding the bikes would've been impossible, even if the Syndies did intend to conceal their movements. As such, once the vehicles reached the village edge, a handful of the absurdly muscular bipeds stepped forth, their horns cracked and withered from use, proving their experience through appearance alone.

The bikes halted before any words were exchanged; the act of passing through their realm having been practiced on several occasions before, to a point it almost became a ritual. Of the handful, only two approached the bikers, who in turn opened their visors so as to present themselves. The Minotaur, who effortlessly spun his axe in hand, spoke in a gravelly, deep voice.

"'Evening, Syndies. Aren't these hours to be stopping by, eh? I'll guess this ain't for a chat?"

With a short chuckle, Kev shook his head. "I'm afraid not. We have a rather..." he turned back, facing Emris in particular, who flipped him off. "...dire situation in our hands. We're crossing over the border."

"Ah, figured. Well, cough it up then," the bull demanded, his tone far more relaxed than hostile. Fair enough, really. He had likely partaken in this exact exchange at least a hundred times by now. Without another word to be said, Kev reached into his hefty bike's bags and produced two bands of the nation's standard currency: the Credit. After stashing the goods, the bipeds stepped aside, issuing for the main gate to part ways. A small group of the beasts then escorted the lot through and past the village, always at a slow pace. While far from timid, Minotaurs were notoriously aggressive, and their slow-working minds could be provoked by any quick stirrups. Their thundering steps were no joke, either. The average Minotaur could weigh around 300 kilos, and to say most of that is pure muscle and bone would be no lie. Their arms alone could grow as big as a human torso, and their superior castes could grow bigger still. Averaging at two metres, the bloody things almost put giants to shame, and their tough skin was so dense that they could realistically absorb bullets and still not bleed enough to be considered lethally wounded.

"Alright, through 'ere," a grey-furred Minotaur instructed, helping them out of their established home. With that, the three bikers marched off once more, taking a path through the vegetation so as to avoid any potential enemy outposts placed upon the intertwining road.

This business had existed for about as long as Yanksee and the Syndicate first set up borders against each other; two enormous, concrete borders in fact, with the space in between considered a No Man's Land where naught but war took place. Quite a depressing stretch of land it was: blackened from explosives and gunfire, littered with holes and trenches, a rancid air with a thin fog of smoke coating its surface. Blood and even bodies still decayed in the grotesque sands, buried naturally by the wind. Evidently, disease lay rampant, too.

Thankfully, the Minotaurs could profit from the two warring countries' espionage. For the longest time, the established mountainous colony lived off of their neutrality, providing aid to the factions without prejudice if only they paid fairly. Even knowing that the creatures had no qualms acting on the enemy's behalf, neither side could fault them, for their reliable strength in combat as mercenaries was just far too valuable to give up just because of wounded pride.

The bikes bounced and bashed noisily against the rough soils below, as the area around them became increasingly misshapen with exposed roots. The trees soon shifted, as colossal, Jurassic trees took over the scenery. A perfect place to hide, really. It was easy to imagine escaped prisoners hiding under their massive roots in times of need.

"Oy, let me pay up next time, eh? Yer too generous for yer own good. Weren't even part of this to start with," Emris implored.

"I'd rather pay for it, honestly," Kev sighed, narrowly avoiding the trees, in part aided by his more sluggish vehicle. "We all know yours are ill-gotten. I prefer payments made with honest cash. Holds more value to it, you know?"

"Ack, if ye insist. By the way, I didn't see a single Lesser 'Taur in there. Did you?" Emris asked, curious.

"It's night, man. Little guys are safe at home by then," Kev explained, earning an amused chuckle from the Third Brigadier, which he too shared. Turning to the third biker, who had said next to nothing during the entire journey, the General asked: "Are you sure you're holding, Xavier?"

"I said I'm fine, Captain. I'm just focused," the First Brigadier insisted one last time, clearly troubled by something. This time, Emris noticed it. For a good few minutes, only the sound of the buckling bikes could be heard as the three maintained a strict silence between them, guilt and concern stiffening any conversations to be presented henceforth. The veteran, Emris, knew he had to bring this crippling guilt down, even if it meant swallowing his pride. Hell, if that's all it took, was there really much to complain about?

Nodding to the General, he taking the hint and creating distance between the pair, Emris' bike drew closer to Xavier's, to the point even the focused Brigadier raised his head in confusion.

"Oy, she weren't wrong about this..." Emris chided, shushing his own chortle as he kept eyes on the road ahead. At the very least, the egotistical jackass would be spared from eye contact. "Xavier, about Zwaarsts..."

"Forget about it. Focus on the task at hand," Xavier cut him off, a clear degree of hostility in his electronically distorted tone.

"Nay, mate. It needs addressin', I——"

"I said forget about it. You're my subordinate, correct? Then do what is right and obey the order," the First Brigadier instructed, more so a personal gripe than an officer's demand.

"Ye may be my higher-up, but if ye know anythin' about the old Guardian, that don't mean jack shité to me," Emris chuckled, his attempt to lighten the mood falling flat on its face.

With a raised voice, the superior Brigadier yelled: "Damn it all, obey the order! You've said it yourself, we're going to save them. There's no use crying over it like children. They'll be fine."

"That don't mean what I did can be just forgotten an' all. Look, I should probably say sorry. I got a real problem with the drinkin', and me bein' old ain't any help either. I'm at wit's end, but that don't mean I can endanger my lot. Especially not their families, and less still whole countries of people."

Xavier clicked his tongue, not saying a word. Emris sighed, continuing. "I... really, honestly want to help ye. I can't put those folks in danger, especially not the young'uns. I'll do everythin' I can to get this shité done for ye, but I need to be here when the war starts. Even if it dries me up, I have to pitch in, 'else the Crimsons'll just wipe the floor with the city. There's so many people there, an'..." The veteran trailed off, silencing himself before he said something unacceptable. Looking back at his superior, Emris noticed that he at least seemed receptive of what he was saying. With that, he gave the final push.

"I apologize, Xavier. I don't... ugh..." the man clicked his teeth, drowning his ego for just a moment. "I don't deserve to be pardoned, and I especially don't deserve it from them. Shité, if I knew my dipshit-ery would get 'em this deep..."

"I get it, it's fine. You had no idea. Now shut up about it," Xavier huffed, showing some more emotion at least. With that, Emris sighed once more, this time contentedly. But even so... "That said, I doubt I'll come to forgive you for this. Live or die."

Nodding in comprehension, though with a slightly stabbed heart, Emris conceded. "Aye, fair 'nough. Heh, don't know how ye put up with me, oy. I couldn't."

"I still don't know either, but we learn to pull through somehow."

"Closing in on Yanksee territory! Kill the engines!" Kev's voice resonated through the headset, interrupting their exchange. At attention, the two soldiers quickly hit the brakes, turning and skidding their tires against the dirt so as to halt the vehicles completely.

Twigs and dry vegetation snapped under the soles of their metal-clad shoes as they stepped onto the earth for the first time in hours, stretching their legs and backs thoroughly. Emris' visor popped open as the Brigadier desperately inhaled the non-synthetic air as his superiors proceeded ahead to scout the city, aided by binoculars. Looking up at the gigantic trees, Emris poked a finger out, as if counting them.

"Sixty-four H," he jokingly pointed out, as if they had parked into a garage. "General, if I lose my Betty, I'll eat yer face."

"Oh, go ahead. You'll find little more than wrinkled old leather," Kev replied, an air of mischief in his tone.

"Consider it a diet, then," Xavier added, teasingly.

"I ain't fat, ye fuck! This is all buff!" Emris shot back, stomping his foot and gnashing his razor teeth.

"Aye, or that dense head of yours!" Xavier mocked, though his tone was clearly playful. Normally, such an expression would incite anger, especially when Emris was involved. And yet, he instead loosened his stance, kicking a few pebbles as his snarl turned into a smile.

"Alright, men. Observe," Kev ordered, pointing towards a significantly tall building in the distance. Approaching the two soldiers and laying down for a view, Emris noted the tedious appearance of an all-too-familiar society, though with significantly less skyscrapers. The architecture and mapping of this smaller city was also notably smaller and more compact, and it's only salvation was the ocean visible well in the distance. It was a shame, really. The place would've made quite a quaint little village, by the seaside. That is, if the village could find a way to build down to the waters, since the whole country rested on a gigantic, steep cliff that would sooner-or-later crumble due to erosion.

"We have to climb up there. It'll give us a good vantage point to pick off the prison camp's soldiers."

"Oy, looks like a nasty job, this. Do ye really think we can make it up there unseen?" Emris asked, concerned.

"Absolutely not," Kev denied, much to the disappointment of Xavier.

"Hold on! Are you trying to initiate a suicide mission?! We may as well infiltrate the prison itself first if we're going to put the whole country under alarm!" the Brigadier exclaimed.

"Calm down, I'm not that desperate. We will be seen yes, but only by one man. Hide your suits, we're going in a cab."

"In a cab?" Emris leaned his head back, raising a brow. "How's that gonna work?"

"Think about it. Cabbies have families, right?"

"Aye, 'less they're the lonely kind."

"'The lonely kind' don't have the stones to risk their life over pointless heroism."

Shaking his head, Emris almost laughed as he retorted. "What's the point? Why even go for that buildin'? Can't we get higher ground elsewhere?"

"Not with that kind of scope and proximity advantages. Besides," Kev raised his head, his visor opening to reveal a cunning smirk. "I figured, if we're going to start a riot anyway, we might as well leave the bastards with a mark, no? Weaken their interior and they'll loosen up in the exterior."

"It sounds risky..." Xavier admitted, raising to his feet. "But I won't lie. They're the primary reason I can't get my people to safety..."

"So...?" Kev asked, anticipating his answer. With a sigh, the third soldier too removed his visor, revealing a mischievous smile.

"Let's give 'em hell."