We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming...

For something that isn't RFTA related. It's still something I wrote but it was a demon I needed to exorcise.

So, this is "Sidewinder":

You hurt me, but I can't get too mad

You're the most precious thing I've ever had.

You showed me all the things I didn't see.

Instead what I was not, what I couldn't be

You did so much for me in just a few months

More than fifteen years of prescription drugs.

My life opened up when you took my hand,

But you took it away for reasons I can't understand

You knew me so much better than I ever could,

I'd have said you'd never do this but apparently you would.

I'm grateful for all you've done to help me along,

I'm just sick of wondering what went wrong.

There's no way you could tell yourself I'd take it well,

You had to know that losing you would put me through hell.

I needed you and thats why I called and wrote.

For nearly a year I waited and I hoped.

You cut me off when you had become air I breathe,

I'm still not over you and everything you've done for me.

Was temptation too much or was it something else?

Was it an emergency decision to protect yourself?

So I was left with denial for almost a year,

My friends telling me things I refused to hear

You were so much, the kindest soul I have ever met.

You call yourself a hedonist, do you have room for regret?

So I'm still stuck, telling the same sob story to every new friend

About how much you helped me and how painfully you made it end.

You knew I would not weather it well, that I would fall right to the concrete

Knowing I'd go down face first and have my heart smeared on the street.

That I'd be in a downward spiral I could not escape,

That I'd hit rock bottom and that I would break.

I write this shit in circles, I know I've written this all before.

About how much I miss you and the internal war

It's been too long and I still see you in everything,

From drinks to cigarettes and words that are said to me.

I still remember the conversations we had every day

I just never realized how it would be when they were taken away.

I'm only able to be angry you did this to me, put me through hell

Because you were there to show me how to respect myself.

You meant more to me than anyone else, I just want you back,

I can't figure out how to hate you when I love you like that.

It still hurts and I don't think I'll ever really get over what we had,

When I fucking love you this much how the hell can I stay mad?

What does it say when I can't escape being reminded of you?

My only comfort is knowing that where-ever you are, this is the truth:

You have these pains and you're unable to stop seeing me in everything, too.

That concludes "Sidewinder" and we now return you to waiting for me to actually work on more RFTA.

A Meeting With Mister Rothschild

(Some words: This takes place after a major plot point and it's up to you to figure out what happened until such time as I actually manage to write that event out but it should be somewhat easy to piece together given context clues. This is the first draft and as such it is subject to change.)

Rothschild woke slowly, city lights moving past him in a blur. Everything was a blur, actually. As he lay there, slumped over, he began to puzzle out he was in a moving vehicle. The last thing he could remember was being placed in the vault-like room under protective custody of the Juno LED. There was nothing in the air but the faint background hum of Repulsotech engines radiating through the body of the car.

"Where am I?" Rothschild slurred slightly, finding his lip had split open somewhere between what he last remembered and where he was now. The was no answer but his eyes began to adjust and after several moments blinking he could make out the cage wall between the front and back half of the vehicle. "Where am I?" he asked again, his eyes straining to resolve the silhouette of an officer behind the wheel, the lines of his jaw and neck subtly lit by the light from the intrument panel. Rothschild waited quite a time before trying again "Where am I?" He then decided to get more specific "Where are we going? Where are you taking me? Where am I?"

That was about as long as it took for officer to sigh and shake his head, the light from the console reflecting off of his badge. "You sure do ask a lot of stupid questions." the officer spoke, eyes on the open sky ahead.

"Stupid questions? I just want to know what happened!" Rothschild growled, kicking at the base of the cage to convery his frustration.

The officer remained calm, almost cold, "You were taken into protective custody of the Juno L-E-D."

"I remember that part!"

"Then we had to move you."

"Why did you have to drug me?"

"That's not drugs, that's gas from a pacification gas grenade."

Rothschild paused, thinking about that for a moment. "Why did you have to gas me?"

The officer chuckled ever-so-lightly, "I didn't, I just thought it would make things more... exciting."

"Exciting? What are you talking about? I want to speak to your sector chief, right now! I have rights!"

"Mm. We all have rights, some more than others. Don't worry about my sector chief, I'll introduce you personally when we get there."

"How much longer?"

"Long enough for you to consider your rights."

The officer angled the car into a smooth dive, moving downward through the levels of the third tier. The trip there was filled with more questions but the officer had decided to go silent again, remaining stoic in response to Rothschild's growing frustration and insults that should have introduced a fist into his jaw. The LED vehicle swam through traffic, the Repulsortech engines thrumming in relation to the directions the vehicle took. It was the late evening, now, but the flashy lights and ad-panes lit the sky well enough to read by. Passing into the second tier, the officer keyed something in on the console and the pane nestled into a curve in the dash lit up with plenty of bright lights to illuminate the officer's profile. From where Rothschild had managed to end up he could see deep red hair, just a few inches in length, upon the officer's head and the faintest glint of light off of one incisor, exposed by a broad grin.

* * *

Down on the mid-level streets in tier two stood two men in light coats, leaning against a support pillar for an upper roadway, their eyes watchful.

"Where the hell is he? Showing my face this high in the city ain't exactly healthy, you know. Can't wait here all night." said the man in a red, imitation leather jacket with a cycle shop's fading logo upon the back.

The man in the grey-green coat grunted, "Grow some balls, already, he'll be here in a minute, he just crossed into tier two."

"I'm just saying I got enemies, people that don't like me."

"Nobody likes you, you're an asshole."

"I know, I think that should underline the dedication I'm showing here."

"You'd kill for her. You'd kill me for her, if she said it was the next step."

"I ... yeah, I probably would but I'm saying she's the only reason I'm here."

From above the hum of Repulsortech engines, mixed with non-Repulsortech engines, died down and things grew quiet. A lamp mounted high on the support pillar flickered and died just as a Juno LED vehicle took a slow, careful sweep around the far side of it, moving slowly as the landing struts beneath it withdrew and the suspension system lowered to put rubber on the ground. Coasting to a halt before the two men, the officer behind the wheel studied them for a few moments.

"Show him the fuckin' thing!" said the man in grey-green.

Following instruction the man in the red jacket pulled a scuffed card from his pocket and held it out before him.

"And remember, we don't fuck with him, I know you probably want to beat him to death but that isn't happening."

"Yeah, I know. I'm on my best behavior."

Seeing the card the officer finally killed the power to the engine systems on the vehicle and opened the door to step out of it. Sighing, Phoenix ran his hand back over his head, through his hair before studying the two men. The card was legitemate so he knew he had the right people but he wanted desperately to be in a position where he could do the hand-off himself.

Glancing into the back of the vehicle, Phoenix looked Rothschild over. "He's still a bit out of it, he got some alone-time with some pacification gas for a couple of minutes."

The man in the grey-green coat nodded and looked at the man as well. "Piece of shit looks even more punchable in person."

Phoenix rubbed at his eyes with the side of his hand, "And you haven't been listening to him rant and bitch for twenty minutes."

"That does sound pretty fucking awful," the man in the red jacket spoke up, "I'm gonna get the truck."

"Double-check that fuckin' cable." the other man called out to him as he walked away.

"Yea, yea, I know, I don't want this motherfucker slipping away." the man in the red leather jacket said as he walked down the roadway.

"Scarborough is down there?" Phoenix asked, glancing along the roadway.

The man in the grey-green coat nodded "He looks a fuck of a lot better than he did the last time I saw him and... well, that's a pretty fucking strong statement, all things considered."

"How is she?"

"Good, we think, we haven't seen to much of her since things went down but she's there, safe," he paused a moment "With him, I mean. They're both there."

"Tell him I wish I could've delivered the scumfuck myself. I really wish I could be there to see it."

"It's going to get messy, for sure. Probably worse than anything the Red Star has done in a few years."

"Scarborough seems pretty okay for, you know, everthing that happened."

"He's... really going to make it count. He's only keeping it together for her, right now."

"Same goes for a lot of us in the Red Star. She ain't like their mother or something but there's a lot of them who don't even understand why she gives a shit about any of them."

Phoenix turned his head to look into the rear of the vehicle as he slipped his hands into his pockets. "Anderson really must believe him."

"Fucking hell he should, right? You need to know your men in that job, know who you trust to do things without cutting corners or who has a conscience." the man in the coat replied, turning to look at Rothschild as well.

Rothschild squirmed under the scrutiny, turning himself away from them and Phoenix shook his head. "Yea, I just know that the man he believes isn't exactly who he used to be, now."

The faint whine of a hydrogen cell engine began to creep into earshot as the man in the grey-green coat furrowed his brows. "Yea, I imagine he knows. Anderson has to understand what he's doing here."

"He's not stupid, certainly, I'm sure he knows exactly what is going to happen... I just never get used to seeing people actually give a damn. It struck me, the risk he's taking, and he isn't asking for anything. What's your name anyway?"

"Ridge, it was, but try not to spread it around. I imagine Anderson'll get something out of it before it's all over." Ridge replied, watching the beaten up cargo truck climb the incline of the roadway to where it levelled off, coming to a stop near the pillar.

"Let's get this done." Phoenix spoke, pulling his hands from his pockets to pull the stun-stick from his belt. "Get the restraints ready."

* * *

"Mister Scarborough-- Officer? We just arrived, we sent the package to the showers." spoke Ridge, shaking off a bit of the corrosive dribble from outside. It was a smart move, it had a lot of drains.

"S'allright, Ridge, you can just call me Ash. I remember reading your K-I-A when I had just gotten out of the academy." Ash resplied, standing up from what was once a half-decent chair.

"How is she?"

"Better," Ash said, placing his hand on Ridge's arm as he passed him. "She's doing a lot better."

"I know she has made some cold decisions for the Red Star in the past but... I am not sure how she'd respond, if she knew."

"She knows, Ridge. She never even brought up the idea of stopping it." Ash shook his head as he left the room.

Following a few steps behind, Ridge continued the conversation, "Then she knows there's no way to keep you from it."

"Doesn't mean she likes it."

"I'm not sure why she wouldn't..."

"Because as much as I do it for myself it's all still for her, because of her, because of this whole fucking mess."

"So it's not that she doesn't want it to happen, it's that you're doing it on her behalf, then?"

"Yea, that sounds about right. I know she could do it herself but I want this. I just need to know it won't happen again. I have to make sure, with my own fucking hands."

Stepping through a large hole in the wall that served as an entrance when rust had claimed an old metal door, Ash passed into the storage area of the base. His expression was hollow, his eyes lacking any emotions, not even the anger that burned incessantly for days. He was pale, clearly deprived of sleep, word was that he could only sleep when she watched over him. Her shouts had been overheard, demanding him to eat something, to sleep along with her instead of watching over her like a hawk while she slept. Ash began to rifle through large bins of tools and fabrication materials, occasionally pulling pieces out.

"Officer 'Nix said he wished he could do the hand-off himself, that he could see it." Ridge said after a long few moments of silence amidst Ash's rummaging.

"I bet he does," Ash said, pulling an angle grinder from a bin stained with grease and dirt. "He's never seen me really lose it before last week. I don't know if he's curious or if he just wants to see how I go about things."

"I couldn't say." Ridge responded

Ash swept the gathered items off the table into a large bucket and began to toss parts into it a piece at a time as he continued to rummage. "I need to be alone, now," he said as he pulled a heavy wrench from a metal box pushed into a corner. Ash then cocked his head and stood upright "Wait, go tell Marie I asked for one of her cigarettes, get one, then get that big bottle of alcohol I saw in the kitchen area this mornng. In that order, she doesn't need to know."

* * *

The lighting in the showers was poor, a couple of lightrods couldn't decided if they were going to stay on or off and the others had just grown dim over time. There was a constant sound of dripping water in the background, some faucet or pipe somewhere needed to be patched up but it would likely just cause another leak somewhere else in the pipes. It smelled unpleasant but given the location of the base it was actually much better than all the alternatives. Rothschild struggled, the metal of his bindings clattering against the eye-bolt driven into the wall behind him. He sat on a folding chair that had rusted too much to fold at all anymore, his ankles chained tightly to two similar eye-bolts buried in the floor. It wasn't long after he was restrained there that he had began to yell as best he could around the rag stuffed in his mouth. It was dirty with grime and grease, the scent of metal all over it. There were likely some metal shavings embedded in it but that was the least of Rothschild's worries at the moment.

From the end of the hall, Ash rounded the corner carrying the heavy bucket by the handle with one hand and a large bottle of liquor in his right. There was a length of cord looped over his shoulder and his expression was colder than ice. His eyes had narrowed as he approached, his steps finally reaching Rothschild's ears, causing him to turn and look awkwardly down the hallway at Ash as he approached. Each step was a thunderous crash in the silence that suffocated everything when recognition had dawned on Rothschild. Every step made him flinch, his eyes unable to decide if they were trying to plead or just unable to stay on Ash as he approached. Each step rose in volume as Ash neared and the sound was something Rothschild was sure would leave his ears bleeding-- until Ash dropped the bucket to the floor.

Rothschild jumped, his fight to escape his bonds kick-started by the sound of tools clattering. He could no longer look at Ash, his eyes shut tight as he cried out with effort and hope that somehow, something might just give him enough room to get free, to flee and run, run, run. Hope was never in great suppy in Esther, it was unmistakably absent from the Gutter. Ash slowly tossed the cord aside and walked across the room to a row of mostly broken sinks, placing a single clove cigarette upon the rim of one with a worn, nearly dead lighter. From there Ash took hold of the bottle and wrenched the cap off in one rough twist, sending it skittering across the floor and into a circle as it caught the angle of the floor around one of the many sunken drains. Uprighting the bottle, Ash stepped away from the sink and took a long pull from the bottle.

Fire blossomed in his throat, more than he was experienced with, but he swallowed another mouthful, then another and another so that it felt like his throat had been scoured with acid and then set on fire atop all of that. Like he had downed raw, molten steel, it was enough to make his eyes water and make him cough raggedly after taking the bottle from his mouth. Casually, Ash set the bottle down in one of the good sinks, letting it rest in the corner of the basin and stood before Rothschild until he finally summoned the courage to look up. Ash's eyes were the most piercing and terrifying thing he could imagine and it fueled his desperate movements that had caused the metal to bite into his skin and make him bleed.

"Artur Rothschild." Ash said, at last and Rothschild flinched, looking up in a moment of pause. "I remember you. Your name, anyway." Ash began, his arms crossing over his chest as he leaned back against the tiled wall. "When I was in the avademy, I think that was when I first heard it. A real good example of just how much you can get away with if you have enough money and your parents are influential at all. Must've grown up pretty good, never had to want for anything, right?" Ash didn't even bother to let Rothschild try and speak, it was more rhetorical than anything, Ash didn't give a fuck about his upbringing. "All that potential, so many open doors and you end up convicted of more counts of rape, sexual assault, and murder than I can even fucking remember. I just remember yelling 'Bullshit!' when they let you out.

"So you walk and the victims-- the ones you let live-- lose their peace of mind and faith in the whole human race. You see, Artur, a person can care-- a person can make a difference... but people, people just don't give a fuck. People will never fail to let you down and so many people were let down when they let you fucking walk out of there. I don't know how the fuck you managed to even do anything but wait for someone to fucking kill you." Ash had a good idea, it involved a lot of private security and very dense security measures. "I mean, it was clear that no one with a badge was allowed to touch you, right?" Ash waited there for a few moments, before Rothschild made a confused sound around the rag in his mouth. "Good fucking point, good fucking point." Ash said, nodding his head.

"Juno and anyone employed by them seem to be unable to even lift a fucking finger. How fortunate that they took you into protective custody immediately after you were found." Ash went on, shaking his head, his hands falling to his sides. "It makes it hard to do the job, Artur, when we know people like you get away-- literally-- with murder and worse. It's like 'What's the fucking point of even doing this?' 'Why the fuck did I have to go to the academy, through all that training if we're never going to use it?'. But no, you, you're untouchable to Juno, your parents can make things happen, Artur. With all that money and the favors-- or hell-- they can bring people you just get to remain untouchable to anyone employed by Juno, anyone with a badge." Ash stopped, moving back across the room to take another large gulp from the bottle, setting it down once more.

As Ash turned around something clattered and skidded across the floor, coming to rest in front of Rothschild. Rothschild looked down, trying to follow it, trying to discern what it was before it came to a stop. Glinting in the light, it stared him in the face while Ash stared at him. Slowly Rothschild swallowed, looking at the badge on the floor and the clear block letters. JUNO. Looking up quickly, Rothschild met Ash's gaze and there was silence again. An unbearable tension fell between them and Ash narrowed his cold gaze on Rothschild.

Ash spoke softly, almost quietly, the words landing on Rothschild like lead weights "I quit,"

[REVISION] Firefight/Zero-Five

It had only been a few days since Ash and Phoenix were notified, with enthusiasm, that they were being pulled into the Juno Military Division for an anonymous operation. The Sector Chief, Matthias Anderson, had held a meeting with unrestrained excitement. “We're not cops today, we're soldiers.” he had said as if he had spent time coming up with that sentence. He was right, however, and all standing officers in The XXXXXX Sector (#) were quickly tossed into the military ranks. There was one full day of training and proficiency exams but it was not much of a chore as the law-enforcement training was not far from military training under Juno command. After all officers had cleared their training and exams they were swiftly packed into the bunks at the Demons Nest. The name came from the fact that all of the tilt-rotor aircraft had been named after demons in old texts but whatever importance those texts really had was quickly forgotten. It was an intimidating name for an intimidating craft and the things it could bring along with it.

The bunks weren't actually that bad, the air was a bit stale and reeked of oil and metal but the beds were somewhat comfortable. Many of the officers Ash and Phoenix were fairly good friends with, the ones who weren't complete dicks and seemed to have a bit of humanity left in them, somewhere. Phoenix hunched over, sitting on the edge of a bunk as he told a story about his high-school Magnaball career (bending truths as far as one could without lying) that he gave up on and occasionally those gathered would laugh as he recounted some stupid stunt. That was what Ash felt about Magnaball, it was just full of stupid stunts. It took skill, intelligence, and endurance but it was also far more complex than it needed to be. It was the the sport that dominated Espher and every sector had their own team to compete. Phoenix was about to go into the story about the full-field charge that had won the next-to-last game of his high-school career, by the sounds of it, when the lighting in the room flickered red.

Sirens wound up and began to howl out from myriad locations, the call to scramble and assemble, and the room exploded into life. Everyone hastily grabbed their gear and checked their weapons before dashing out into the hall and joining the chain of soldiers on their way to the landing pads. Phoenix managed to beat Ash out of the door by only two seconds but he caught up and ran beside him. “Any idea what we're doing?” Phoenix asked, shouting over the sirens. Ash shook his head and tightened one of the straps on his assault webbing. As they flew out the door they stood upon the roof of the The Demons Nest, nine large octagonal pads connected to the roof, each supporting a large, intimidating tilt-rotor armed and ready to go.

“Haborym! Pad five!” Shouted one of the military officers, directing soldiers (drafted and enlisted alike) to their crafts by the insignias on their helmets. Ash and Phoenix dashed along with their rifles slung low and approached the Haborym tilt-rotor. The tilt-rotor was not the cutting edge of military technology but it was a solid machine. It was capable of adapting to innumerable roles from air-support to personnel carrier to medevac duty and a dozen other tasks. Haborym was equipped with a chin-mounted flamethrower, a large Vulcan cannon under its left wing and a missile pod that promised to rain hell beneath the right wing. Ash and Phoenix dashed up the steps to the landing pad and climbed in, sitting down and immediately strapping in alongside other members of Haborym Squad.

The members of Haborym squad had assembled and Lt. Green stepped onto the landing skid and banged his hand against the hull of the aircraft. “We're clear, Baker, lift-off!” and with that the turbine blades whirled into life, whining as they increased in power and began to pull the heavy craft from the landing pad. Lt. Green climbed in and strapped himself down in the middle of the squad, his eyes watching a monitor set in the roof just before him. The craft angled and gravity tugged hard as the tilt-rotor wings began to angle forward, dipping the nose of the aircraft downward as it began to accelerate forward.

“All right, listen up. I don't care if you're new to this, I don't tolerate fuck-ups! We have orders and we carry them out, we do not hesitate, we do not have mercy, we follow our orders to the letter and that is how we get back home alive.” Lieutenant Green began, eyes scanning the lot of them. Watanabe was an enlisted soldier and a demolitions expert who had a face like it was etched in granite. O'Neil was another enlisted soldier, a heavy-weapons specialist with rust colored hair and an enormous model 33A Heavy Support Weapon cradled in his arms.

The next enlisted soldier was 'Prizrak', a man with an uncanny ability to disappear from sight, his Russian blood had influenced his nickname and he had long-since given up on writing it in Russian, he stuck to phonetics. The specialist Shaina Oaks was a last-minute addition to their roster, she had a record (and kill count) that did not let one think she was anything but magic with her rifle and she cradled it affectionately while wiping down the barrel out of some form of habit. The non-enlisted, law-enforcement officers on the team were few/ Cortez, a decent cop but a bit of a slacker, Martin, a mussy-haired youth who had just recently graduated to becoming an officer. Then there was Ash and Phoenix.

The staggered, high-reaching layout of Espher began to expose itself as the craft shot out of Espher airspace and toward the outer lying settlements that existed mostly on small trade companies moving food, water, and other goods to the settlements for barter. “All right, listen up. We are on a search and retrieve mission at Oscar-Sierra-Zero-Five. We have received information that indicates possible illegal weapons manufacture. We will turn over every single rock until we are sure we have obtained every suspicious item and firearm above Oscar-Sierra defense rating.” Lieutenant Green explained. Put simply, they were going to take any firearm or other weapon that was capable of being used as what was labeled an assault weapon. The bands of raiders made settlement defense mandatory but sometimes the residents got a bit overzealous with their weaponry.

“Zero-Five? Making weapons? The last time I was there it was basically a fence around a pile of dirt.” O'Neill spoke, shaking his head at the thought.

“Correct, our intelligence is solid on this, we have satellite imaging to back this up. Doesn't seem like we get the luxury of seeing them going on what I received in my briefing.” replied Lt. Green, rubbing his jaw.

“Crazier shit happens.” spoke Watanabe, double-checking his kit and adjusting his combat augmentation brace around his right wrist.

“Sounds like a pretty easy operation. Where the hell did everyone else scramble to, Lieutenant?” Cortez inquired, his hands resting on his knees.

“On their own operations, we were briefed separately,” Lt. Green spoke and then craned his neck to look toward the interior of the cockpit. “Baker! ETA!”

Baker turned his head, looking far too large with the helmet that sealed around his head. He spoke with a hiss of static over the com-buds in their ears. “ETA Two mikes.” .

“I want a report when we're thirty seconds out!” Lt. Green shouted.

“Yes, sir, Lieutenant Green.” Baker responded, turning back around to face forward, the cables running from his helmet and to the various parts of the cockpit making a somewhat odd move.

“What kind of weapons are we talking about? Are they still using cartridges or did they manage to find a way to manufacture caseless ammunition?” Marin inquired, nodding toward his rifle upon mention of the latter type of ammunition.

“They didn't say but given how urgent these orders were marked I'd say it's something big, something bad.” Lt. Green responded.

“We haven't heard a word about any tech going missing.” Ash chimed in.

“Yea, it must be under-wraps if anything. I don't think they'd publicize it.” Phoenix spoke.

“You would have only been notified if the missing tech had been discovered before it left the city. They neutralized the tracing chip just a bit outside the city. We don't know which way they went, that's got to be the reason they're calling us all in.” said Lt. Green as he looked up at the pane displaying mission objectives.

“We'll have this done in no time.” Piotr spoke with only the vaguest hint of an accent, inspecting his knives for any hint of nicks or scratches.

Shaina, it seemed, was fine staying silent. In fact, her eyes were closed in what could only be assumed to be some sort of mental preparation for the operation if things went south.

“Thirty seconds, Lieutenant!” . Baker spoke, his eyes obscured by dark tinted, bulbous curves of a visor. “Hold on that, Lieutenant. I'm being told that the operation has changed, HQ wants to make sure you acknowledge it.” . The lot of them moved to angle their heads to look up at the pane but few had a good enough seat to see what it said entirely. After a moment of thought Green nodded “Tell them I recognize the change in the operation and it will be done as commanded.”

“Yes, sir.” . Baker said, swinging his head back to the front and speaking into the microphone adjacent to his mouth.

“Listen up!” Lt. Green barked. “We have a change in plans. This is no longer search and retrieve, Zero-Five is hot. Scout drones have confirmed other settlements have engaged the squads designated to them. Weapons at the ready, we're going to soften Zero-Five up a bit before we drop!”

“What the hell? They're -engaging- Juno Military?” Shaina said, incredulous, breaking her long silence.

“Command confirms it. We do not know their full capability so we are treating them as if they are capable of taking down Haborym, here,” Lt. Green said, nodding in indication of their transport. “I don't think they have anything but this isn't Magnaball, we don't gamble on one soldier carrying the entire squad to victory.”

“We have visual, Zero-Five nearing combat range.” , Baker hissed into their ears.

“Lock down your weapon and grab your braces.” Lieutenant Green ordered, motioning with his hands in case he was not audible.

“Cycling Vulcan” static spat in their ears ad the large rotary gun on the left wing began to spin up and whir. “Breaking the seals on the pod and arming missiles.” Baker continued, the three rectangular boxes under the right wing blowing the protective covering off to expose dozens of angry missiles. “Test burst on the flamethrower.” there was a pause “Engaging strafing run.”

The rotary cannon began to angle and track as the craft accelerated to attack speed. The Vulcan came to life with a meaty growl as the barrels rotated, spitting death upon the settlement. Vulcan rounds stitched their way across the settlement and cut people apart as they flew through. Delayed explosive rounds quickly began to detonate behind them as they moved to make another pass. Ash could not help but realize how little resistance he could see in the settlement. Perhaps somewhere under that corrugating, rated metal lurked anti-aircraft or anti-personnel weaponry, maybe they didn't have enough time to fully ready their defenses. On the second pass two missiles hissed and shot forward before angling sharply and accelerating with large bursts of flame behind them, sending them swiftly to their targets.

The Vulcan cannon once more stitched across buildings and everything in the settlement. Ash could see blood in the dirt, a lot. As they neared he realized the blood was the upper-body of a man who had been blown into two pieces by a delayed explosive round. As the craft hooked around sharply, Ash and Phoenix as well as Shaina were treated to the view of two missiles impacting the bases of watch towers that were unmanned. They fell quickly and another buzz of chain-explosions went off as the delayed explosive rounds lodged in the buildings and ground began to detonate. Hooking back in, Baker brought them in low, the chin-mounted barrels of the flamethrower spewing fire along their path. Missiles began to emerge from the missile pods just an inch as they were locked onto targets. The Vulcan continued spraying as they moved through the settlement and the weapon tore a line straight across the settlement.

“Missiles locked, cover-fire for the drop!” Baker yelled.

“We appreciate it!” Lr. Green shouted back and began to retrieve his weapon, everyone else following his example.

“Sir I don't see any dangerous weapon installations.” Ash spoke, squinting and trying to make more detail of the settlement as they curled around it.

“Just waiting for us to drop,” Lt. Green replied “That cover-fire is going to shit all over their plan.”

“If you say so, Lieutenant, I don't see anyone armor at all.”

“Noted, Scarborough. Get focused. Everyone make sure your combat augmentation brace is in the right place!”

Following the command they all aligned their CABs with their wrists and then stood up, hooking themselves to the tilt-rotor in preparation to drop. From the right side of the craft eight to ten missiles fired off in the same instant. Missiles shot down and then arced up sharply before pin-pointing their targets from their locked-in angles. The missiles hit simultaneously and explosions tore through the settlement, sending shrapnel, earth, and human debris into the air. As the explosions began the team leapt from the craft and rode their rappel lines down, slowed sharply as the automatic system minimized the impact before releasing them. Six hit the ground in the first descent, followed by three more in the second and they rushed to the walls of the settlement, ducking behind cover as explosions pounded through their bodies and the heat rose before them. A rain of whickering shrapnel and remains begin to fall as a woman's scream was cut short by the last missile hit. Falling debris rained over the settlement and the squad alike, their kinetic barriers causing it to deflect and fall elsewhere.

“Let's go!” shouted Lieutenant Green, shoving his fist forward through the air.

[REVISION] Welcome To The Gutter (pt.1)

The most Ash had seen of The Gutter was in pursuit of fleeing suspects or perpetrators and in most cases suspects were the perpetrators. He had to say it looked much better when it was passing by at high speeds. Even then, the chases were through the upper tiers of it all where there were roads and air-routes for vehicles, this place was buried under infrastructure. 

Law enforcement wasn't a science, really, but tags (or 'chips') had really helped to track or identify crimes in progress. They certainly let you know if your fleeing suspect had any criminal history with only a seconds time spent scanning their birth tag. When convicted and sentenced your chip was updated and a lot of places above The Cloud flat-out refused to admit anyone with anything more than mild criminal charges on their tag, and good luck moving up in the workforce.

Before him he saw darkness barely lit with flickering lightrods, enormous pillars and columns, and nothing overhead except the constant drip of fluid and a deep darkness that swallowed up any hope of actually seeing past the first five tiers above you. There were spots that were completely uncovered, where one could almost see the sickly coloration of The Cloud in the daylight. The same Cloud that drizzled a constant rain of poisonous chemicals absorbed from the pre-regulation power-plants still chugging along, this was not that part of The Gutter. 

Just how toxic that fluid was was up for debate but he was sure it would burn a hole through his arm. The power-plants were long-since brushed off by The Obelisk and served more to power the lower tiers and The Gutter. A rough cycle, it was power and pollution or giving up almost everything in hopes the air-scrubbers would be able to filter out The Cloud over some reasonable amount of time.

The air here was perpetually damp and smelled quite a deal worse than anything Ash had experienced. Fluid ran down every column, pillar, and building, glistening in what little light there was. Mold grew copiously and strange fungi and fat-capped mushrooms grew along the ruined streets as the fluids ran along toward some spot ahead. 

The elevator had placed him at the corner of what was once a street, kept in better condition as it rarely brought anyone down except JPD equipment or forces and the two mounted sentry-guns were also a good deterrent for anyone thinking about attacking law enforcement or Juno personnel within the large range of the weapons.

Ash sighed, looking around and finding himself with little choice in which direction he traveled as the other had been barricaded by walls of JPD barriers. Walking along the remains of what was, at best, a path Ash sidestepped and jumped breaks in the cement and asphalt, he didn't want the pooling of those fluids to ruin his boots. He was moving toward the JPD outpost, guided partially by a map he had checked on his hub and signs spray-painted onto the large pillars, high and out of reach of those who tagged all the empty space there was. 

His shoulder-lamp helped expose the graffiti, some of the work was impressive, actually. He had seen some incredibly realistic work along a cement wall, it surely took someone months to complete. He wasn't sure how you managed to stay in one place so long and stay alive, here. Ash wondered, faintly, if Marie had ever seen the work of the young artists here. He had a fleeting thought of the two of them coming up with some sort of education scholarship for gifted artists trapped down here since birth, but with the direction things were heading with 'art' these days he wasn't so sure that would be a good idea. High up, the pillar markings guided him down the road.

Ash had to remind himself that this place was nothing like the other tiers of the city. There was a dramatic change between The Bottom Rung and the second tier and up that he had experience with. This was the the worst part of the worst tiers, this was where savagery was as common as everything else. It was not a stretch for people to be slaughtering each other here, JPD never touched it. Once the Ob' realized that The Gutter was completely useless and stopped observation and patrol. People often fled here in hopes of escape but they never seemed to understand that just because they had come here that JPD would not pursue them.

 In quite a lot of cases the fleeing suspects were killed by the people that lived in The Gutter. You can only run so far through the poorest part of the city in your nice clothes and accessories before you were robbed of them, usually without bothering asking before they just killed you. As awful as it was, it was pretty damn convenient when it came to wrapping things up. No one had to go to jail, no one had to be interviewed, so much of the paperwork vanished when the suspect was murdered in The Gutter. Ash and Phoenix had seen horrible things here but they had not been to the Bottom Rung where sense was apparently absent from everyone-- or so the stories told.

It took several minutes of walking before he finally began to encounter people-- and they were barely that. The whine of the spinning barrels on his weapon had kept the smart ones away, those that remained were incapable of fleeing. The first man had been half-slumped against a pillar with vomit in his lap an a busted bottle of liquor that Ash was pretty sure was home-made. The man bled slightly from his mouth as he leaned there and his unfocused eyes followed Ash as he passed. 

The man did not make any moves so Ash was comfortable passing him even though he figured a bullet would be a more human solution for improving the mans life. He had come across junkies and addicts cooking up extremely crude forms of Spark, named so because it was very easy to explode if one was cooking a potent batch. The smell was what gave it away, it was an acrid thing that was distinct and left you wanting to spit until the taste and smell of it were gone. The barrels of the ScumThumper apparently did not reach their ears or they were just more interested in the Spark.

Looking at them briefly he could see that each of them had their eyes open wide as the one man worked on cooking the batch up. Hungry faces, desperate to escape their surroundings no matter how much it damaged them. Some time down the line they would die from their addiction but that wasn't a bad option in this place. The most clear symbol of addiction was the perpetually dry mouth. Lips cracked constantly, bleeding from the tears in the skin and their tongues were like dry sponges in their own mouths. 

Their speech would be affected by it and their teeth were quickly worn away as the drug wore the enamel away and then the teeth until they were completely gone. Recovered addicts could not eat solid foods well, if at all, and if they didn't have the money to have their teeth replaced they just lived that way with their scar-strewn lips and damaged brains.

The most unnerving part of this all was just how dark it really was. There were lightrods overhead but they lacked the power to properly illuminate anything. It was constantly dim and every line of lightrods seemed to be illuminating to a different degree than any of the others. Commonly he would come across the putrid smell of decay and rot where he was sure there was a corpse somewhere-- if he bothered to look for it. He didn't. 

Graffiti was exceedingly present and some of it was clearly the brown stain of dried blood. The gangs here had skirmishes and he could see the (poorly done) symbol of the Acid Eaters. A mouth full of sharp teeth cracking their way through a pipe or other object that was always marked with the common cautionary labels for dangerous chemicals. He had seen it done much better than this, this was just crude and off. If he was in the territory of the Acid Eaters he could expect to run into the Rabid Fangs who were constantly fighting over the eastern reaches of the seventh sector.

Ash was aware of every major gang that operated in the gutter and Espher as a whole and there were more than he could ever count. They constantly changed loyalties and territory, fought endlessly, and had the luxury of doing most everything without worrying about the JPD. It just made killing people too easy and he had been told in the Academy, verbatim, that the people in the gutter were lost and not worth the money the citizens of Espher paid them. Those in the Gutter did not pay, they did not get the protection of the JPD. Murder, here, was without penalty.

If you owned a weapon you could, in theory, come to the Bottom Rung and kill everyone you saw and then go home and wash the blood off of your hands and then never worry about any charges. In the government's view, it seemed, killing off people in the gutter could only benefit the city. They did not pay in to the city but the conditions they lived in were hardly a tax upon the city. Almost all of The Gutter was self-sufficient, running on ancient powerplants that were usually under the protection of larger gangs. The powerplants spewed pollutants into the air while being operated by the best people that could be found by the gang in control.

Ash soldiered onward, his eyes constantly observing his surroundings, receiving no help from the piss-poor lighting. Reaching up, Ash turned on the light mounted on the stock of the ScumThumper and was given at least a bit of ease being able to stab it into the darker areas. Most of what he saw was just as disgusting or unimpressive as the rest of the areas he had been. He began to hear the faint sounds of life scuffling around as he continued along the busted path. He killed the spin on the gun to listen more closely and began to furrow his brow. The scuffling was not a promising sound. Shutting off the light on the gun he moved further in, drilling one fact into his own head. Survival. He was not a cop here, he was going to be fighting to survive this. He could not be kind and gentle, he could not be a good guy, he could not survive this unless he killed all the parts of him that exposed weakness or vulnerabilities. It was a lot harder than he expect.

As the sounds of scuffling feet increased, he began to hear a faint gurgle that promised nothing pretty. Ash began to slowly stalk through the near-darkness, his feet placed carefully as he slipped around a pillar, listening. Whatever was going on was behind the pillar opposite of the one he had taken cover behind. There was a muffled curse and a clatter of metal on the dirty cement, he carefully looked around the pillar but could only see a pair of feet kicking weakly at the ground. Furrowing his brow, Ash went against his better judgment and slipped around the pillar he was at and carefully covered the distance. 

It took a decent amount of time before he could get close enough to put his back to the pillar. Listening, he could hear the gurgle much more clearly, he could muttered words and then the smell of blood hit him. Gritting his teeth and wishing he could just move on, Ash leaned his head out for a brief moment before common sense kicked in and he brought the weapon up. Carefully he began to side-step around the pillar, the scene unveiling itself. A pool of blood was on the ground and in it, propped against the pillar, was a youth who stared out with broad eyes.

Propped there, he was obscured partially by the crouching form of a man who was busy carving a line down the young man's chest with a knife. One arm was off to the side, torn open around the wrist where his chip was likely torn out and checked for any valuable information. The youth had a gag shoved in his mouth and suddenly his eyes found Ash. Standing there with his weapon ready, Ash must have looked like a savior but he was hardly feeling that way.

Ash watched in morbid fascination as the street surgeon began to tear flesh away to expose muscle and bone. He moved the knife down and plunged it into the youth's abdomen causing his eyes to widen in shock as he stared at Ash, pleading with his eyes for help. It was not until he youth's abdomen was cut open wide that the sense of decency in Ash clicked and he brandished the weapon, curling his finger over the trigger and pulling it just a bit.

The barrels on the ScumThumper began to wind up and spin and the street surgeon whipped around, drawing an older model pistol from his coat. As the street surgeon brought the pistol toward Ash he squeezed the trigger. In a storm of pellets and furious thunder, the weapon bucked violently in Ash's gripped. Ash watched in awe as the body of the surgeon was chipped away with intense speed. Shapes of anatomy were blasted apart, pellets obliterating flesh and bone at such range. The Surgeon's face was stripped away with one blast and then the remains of bone were ripped to shards as pellets tore through his skull. 

The contents of the surgeon's head were quickly scattered across the ground several feet away, along with the majority of his shoulder and chest. The surgeon fell back and began to twitch, headless and missing half his torso, his disconnected arm still brandishing the pistol. Ash held the trigger down a couple seconds longer before releasing it and letting the barrels wind down. His eyes examined the abstract, grisly work of art the ScumThumper had made of the street surgeon's head and torso. It was much more devastating and violent than he had imagined it would be.

Curiosity had been indulged and Ash turned to regard the youth bleeding out. Lowering the gun, Ash looked the youth over. Slowly he knelt down, carefully avoiding thee pool of blood with his knee, and looked into the youth's eyes. There was no telling how he got here, he was dressed well for the area and he must have had some sort of implant if the surgeon was harvesting him right here... or maybe things had become so nightmarish that the street surgeons just did it all in plain sight. 

The young man stared at Ash, eyes still pleading and there was a sting in Ash's gut as he read every word in the young man's head. 'Help me. I'm going to die. Please help. I don't want to die here. Call for emergency medical attention. You're JPD, save me. I don't want to die here. I don't want to die here.' Ash's face twisted up in anguish and the weight pulled down on him.

“I can't do anything.” Ash forced out, his eyes looking away. “Even if I could get you emergency transport you would be dead before you got to the hospital.” he sighed, and grit his teeth. Many thoughts swept through his head and he began to observe the cuts and bleeding wounds. He could not have much blood left. “I... I can't help you. Not like that.” Ash muttered, reaching up to pull the gag from the young man's mouth. Ash stood up and looked down at the mess, reaching behind him to wrap his fingers around his sidearm and pull it free of the holster. 

“I can make it stop or you can bleed out.” Ash said, his voice dry of any emotion. “Just... It's all I can do for you.” he explained. The youth nodded and Ash raised his pistol to place the barrel against the youth's forehead. “Just nod.” Ash whispered, his eyes looking away. He felt the youth nod against the barrel of the gun and closed his eyes. There was a crack that split the air as the gun fired and blood flecked Ash's uniform. Ash's arm went limp and let the weapon hang at his side. Slowly the youth's body slid to the side and then slumped over and hit the ground.

Survive seven days and you can go back to your life, Ash. Survive seven days and you can be with her again. Ash raised his head and began to walk away. He didn't look back to see what he was imagining in his head. He couldn't do more than that, as selfish as it was this was -his- life and Marie was -his- … something. Girlfriend? She was waiting at the end of this hellhole and Ash holstered the pistol at his back and took the ScumThumper back in both hands. 

Ash wasn't sure how the youth had ended up here but at the least, Ash saved him a few minutes worth of bleeding out and dying. The shot killed him instantly and freed the youth from the pain, Ash tried his best to make that sound like he had helped the youth in some substantial way. If Ash had been quicker to investigate maybe he could have done more but... once more he hammered the words home. You must survive, Ash.

Walking with his eyes somewhat unfocused, Ash followed the ruins of the street toward distant lights and sounds. Perhaps it was a bit of a settlement, somewhere alive, somewhere he could immerse himself in and forget the gurgling sound of the young man while he had hid behind that pillar. He wanted to scream at himself and scold his mind for dwelling on it. The kid was dead the moment he entered the Bottom Run. Healthy bodies, decent clothes, that made you a target. 

“It was all I could do...” he muttered, his eyes moving to focus on the distance where the sounds of life were originating and began to move swiftly toward it, something to distract his thoughts as he told himself to be cold, to not care, to worry only about himself after spending so much of his career doing the exact opposite. It was a brutally opposite way of thinking but this life was -his-, Marie was -his-. It was selfish but it was the only way he was sure he could get out of this alive.