I&C - Chapter 1 - City of Smoke and Steel
I&C - Chapter 1 - City of Smoke and Steel
Chapter 1 - The City of Smoke and Steel
Notable Characters with submitted profiles:
Jenna Page: viewtopic.php?p=2516&sid=1c166348b87729 ... 6d5c#p2516
Lorianna: viewtopic.php?p=2513&sid=1c166348b87729 ... 6d5c#p2513
Drake Biltonman: viewtopic.php?p=2505&sid=1c166348b87729 ... 6d5c#p2505
Lucas Bloomfield: viewtopic.php?p=2509&sid=1c166348b87729 ... 6d5c#p2509
Gruber Chekolovski: viewtopic.php?p=2507&sid=1c166348b87729 ... 6d5c#p2507
Bruce Wolfstien/Robbie the Repair Bot: viewtopic.php?t=139&sid=1c166348b87729a ... ef24906d5c
Jenna Page walks the streets of Ishpeming: The Northern Gun: a city of steel, smoke, and military ambition.
Its population swells past 150,000, a restless mix of humans, mutants, psychics, and the occasional magician. Power hums beneath the concrete. Suspicion lingers in every alley. But nothing is outlawed yet. The people here grow up sharp, educated, and wary... just like Jenna.
She moves through the city with the quiet confidence of someone who’s survived too much. After a few brutal run‑ins with the Chrome, she drifts naturally toward their rivals, the Blue Angels. Two gangs locked in a cycle of blood and vengeance. Jenna has buried more friends than she can count, each loss carving her colder, harder, less willing to trust the world.
It is June 4, 102 P.A., and the summer air carries the metallic tang of distant machinery.
She walks beside Lucas, her current boyfriend. He’s all dark hair, dark eyes, and darker clothes and is lean, 5'10", and built like someone who’s never quite figured out how to exist comfortably in his own skin. His attitude is a blend of calm cynicism and smartass commentary, especially when someone states the obvious. But with Jenna, he softens. He sees something different in her, something dangerous, something he respects.
Trailing with them is Lori, bouncing lightly with every step. A true-blue blonde, petite at 5'4", wrapped in her usual colors of blue and black. Her brown eyes sparkle with a kind of oblivious cheerfulness. She blurts out whatever crosses her mind, often the most obvious thing possible, and it grates on Lucas like sandpaper. Still, she hops along, unbothered, a bright little spark in a city built on gunmetal and grit.
Jenna, Lucas, and Lori follow their usual path from the diner, drifting down cracked sidewalks toward 54th Street. The city hums around them with engines growling in the distance, metal clanking from the factories, sunlight glinting off rusted rooftops. When they turn the corner, the rest of the Blue Angels come into view.
Warren spots them first. He bursts out from the cluster of gang members, jogging over with his usual mix of swagger and barely-contained attitude. Short, sharp-tongued, and always two seconds from starting a fight, yet he treats Jenna and Lucas with a rare kind of respect.
Behind him looms the warehouse. From the outside, it looks like a dying beast: walls sagging, metal siding peeling, windows cracked or boarded. It dominates most of the block, a massive structure that seems one strong breeze away from collapsing. But inside, it’s a different world; rebuilt, reinforced, carved into living spaces for every gang member and a handful of close friends. The interior halls are guarded by sentinel members in gladiator armor, each carrying heavy weapons and watching the entrances with disciplined stillness.
The trio stops outside the headquarters, sunlight warming their shoulders. A few clouds drift lazily overhead, giving the day a calm, almost cheerful glow. They chat about the roleplaying game they’d been laughing over at the diner with voices relaxed, steps unhurried.
Jenna keeps her expression neutral, but her mind stays alert. To her knowledge, only two other psychics run with the Blue Angels: Warren, and Drake, the gang’s newest leader. No one else knows what she is. Warren figured it out. Lucas… might suspect, judging by the way he watches her sometimes.
As they stand there talking, Warren suddenly sways. Then he drops, collapsing straight to the ground as if someone cut his strings. No warning or sound. Just his body hitting concrete.
Jenna drops to her knees so fast the others barely register the movement. Her hand goes to Warren’s shoulder, steady but urgent. “Warren… hey! Warren, talk to me.” Her voice is low, controlled, but there’s a sharp edge beneath it.
As she leans over him, a sleek Dodge Rocket slowly and deliberately rolls past. Its engine purrs like a predator sizing up prey. Behind the tinted window, a light‑brown‑haired, green‑eyed stranger studies the scene with unsettling focus, gaze lingering on Jenna, on Warren, on the gang clustered nearby. The car doesn’t stop. It just glides by, watching.
Lucas crouches beside Jenna, scanning the street, tension tightening his jaw. Lori hovers behind them, hands fluttering uselessly.
Jenna turns Warren over. His eyes stay shut. And then she sees the dark red bloom spreads across his chest, soaking through his shirt, pulsing from a massive wound.
Lucas inhales sharply, the sound almost a gasp. The sunlight suddenly feels colder. The cheerful walk, the easy conversation, the calm afternoon are all gone in an instant. Warren isn’t unconscious. He's dying.
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OOC: Scott and Tara, you both are within talking range of each other.
Scott's Address: hoser18@eagle.ptialaska.net
Tara's Zadia57@hotmail.com
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Alec Dallas rolls past in his Dodge Rocket, eyes narrowing behind the windshield as he catches the sight of Warren’s collapsed body. Even from the street, he can tell something is fatally wrong. The moment the realization hits, he brakes hard, the Rocket hissing to a stop.
He moves fast. Armor plates clatter as he pulls them on, each piece locking into place with a sharp mechanical click. The transformation is quick, practiced, like he’s done this a hundred times before. Then he strides toward Jenna and drops to one knee beside her, the sunlight flashing off his gear. The gang members gathered around, eye him with suspicion. He takes one look at Warren. “Looks like your friend was sniped,” he says, voice low, grim.
Alec taps the side of his helmet. “Faceplate down.” His visor slides shut with a metallic snap, and a faint hum rises as his armor activates its thermal scan. He turns his head slowly, sweeping the street, the rooftops, the alleys searching for the ghost of a heat signature, the fading trace of a shooter. While the scan runs, he speaks again, tone edged with suspicion, “So… who was your friend? And why would someone want to kill him?”
The question hangs in the air like a tightening noose. Jenna instinctively ducks and grabs Lucas and pulls him down as a bullet ricochets off of Alec's armor.
Jenna’s voice slices through the panic, sharp and urgent. “Lucas, we have to move him. Now! I can’t help him out here. Where’s the nearest place we can hide?”
Lucas doesn’t hesitate. “Follow me.”
They haul Warren’s limp body across the street, Jenna gripping him with desperate strength, Lucas supporting the dead weight as best he can. The rundown stucco building looms ahead with cracked walls, sagging roof, a place forgotten by the city. Inside, the air is stale and sour. A drunk slumps just past the doorway, barely stirring as they drag Warren past him, his muttered groan swallowed by the dimness.
“Set him down,” Jenna says, breath tight. “I need to work. Every second counts.” She kneels beside Warren, staring at him, almost through him, with her eyes distant, calculating. Lucas watches her, baffled.
“What are you doing?” he asks, sarcasm masking the fear in his voice.
Then Jenna sees it all at once: the bullet’s path, the shattered bone, the trauma blooming inside Warren’s chest. The round lodged near his scapula. The damage around his heart. He’s hanging on by threads.
Lucas tries to steady himself. “So what now? You’re not a psychic or anything… right?” Jenna doesn’t answer. She’s already preparing.
Across the room, Alec approaches the drunk, trying to make sense of the chaos, “So, man… what’s going on?”
The drunk snorts awake. “What? Can’t you hear the firefight? Another damn gang war…” His stench, a vile mix of urine, sweat, whiskey, rolls through the room like a physical force. Alec turns away without responding, moving back to the doorway. His visor hums as he scans the street for heat signatures, searching for the shooter who started all this.
Minutes stretch thin. Then Jenna moves without warning as she plunges her hands straight into Warren’s chest.
Lucas recoils, eyes wide. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
She doesn’t speak or flinch. Her hands work with terrifying precision, navigating warm, slick organs as if she’s done this a thousand times. She finds the bullet flattened, mangled, unmistakably from an assault rifle, and pulls it free. Warren’s body shudders. She withdraws her hands and presses them against his torn flesh. The skin knits together beneath her palms, sealing seamlessly, as though the wound never existed. The room falls silent.
Even the drunk stops breathing for a moment. And Lucas realizes whatever Jenna is… she’s far more dangerous, and far more powerful, than he ever imagined.
*******************************************************
Jedite watches the chaos unfold from the shadows, his posture coiled, predatory. Then, without warning, he launches upward, clearing the alley in a single impossible leap. He lands on the warehouse rooftop like a human‑sized grasshopper, metal groaning beneath his boots. From the corner of the roof, he surveys the street below.
Movement. Two Chrome slip out of a side door, scanning the area with nervous, twitchy glances. his eyes narrow. His hands rise. Twin laser swords ignite with a violent hiss, bathing his face in cold, lethal light. He steps forward menacingly slow and deliberate. The hunt has begun.
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<Chaser1> . Enter Jedite
<Chaser1> Email.... anthonysuxcock@hotmail.com
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Outside, the street turns volatile.
A Chrome soldier steps into view, clad in the gang’s standard armor and helmet; chrome‑bright, unmistakable. Alec ducks back inside the doorway, slipping out of sight as his visor feeds him new thermal readings. More signatures appear across the surrounding streets. More bodies, scattered farther out.
The drunk mutters, “Man… maybe I should get the hell outta here! This is the worst one I’ve seen yet!” A bullet snaps through the doorway, ricocheting off the cement floor, and shatters the bottle in his hand. He barely reacts and just blinks at the broken glass.
On the rooftop, the Chrome soldier edges backward, unaware he’s being watched. Alec tracks him through thermal optics. He fires twice through the stucco wall and roof corner. Two sharp cracks emanate as the energy beam splits the air. The first shot misses. The second hits. The Chrome’s body goes limp as he tumbles over the edge, landing on the pavement with a dull, wet heavy smack.
The drunk suddenly stiffens. Blood spills from his nose and mouth, his eyes wide with agony. Behind him stand two more Chrome. This time in full Urban Warrior armor, painted in chaotic chrome colors, each gripping an L20 pulse rifle.
Alec reacts instantly, diving for cover.
Inside the building, the danger closes in. Footsteps pound overhead from multiple people on the roof. Lucas ducks instinctively, glancing at Warren, then scanning for Lori. Panic spikes through him. She’s gone.
A flash of light streaks overhead. Another beam slices past Lucas’s ear, scorching it. He screams, clutching the side of his head as chunks of ceiling break loose, raining dust and stone over him and Warren.
Jenna snaps toward him. “Lucas, are you okay? We need to get out of here, now!”
********************************
(Not to be confused with gang member Lori, who just went missing)
Lorianna Dastucar Enthorrina Silveldari, or Lori, because nobody has time for all that, stands at the end of the street, watching an extremely silver‑haired man hop off a hovercycle in a hurry. His armor is black, silver‑trimmed, and absolutely screaming “I moisturize.” He leaps to the warehouse roof just as a gunshot cracks through the air.
She looks up the street. Bodies everywhere. Blue‑and‑black gang members scattered like confetti at a very poorly planned parade. Only a few Chrome gangsters remain, and even they look like they’re reconsidering their life choices.
********************************
From his rooftop perch, Jedite watches the chaos unfold. Down below, a man in black alien‑esque armor, Alec, casually uses a C‑14 firebreather to erase a Chrome from existence. Two of Alec’s friends hover in the doorway of an orange stucco building, dragging an unconscious, blood‑coated guy like they’re moving furniture.
Then the blonde girl suddenly yanks her leather‑clad friend out of the way of a bullet with the reflexes of someone who’s been shot at way too many times.
Alec finishes off the last Chrome with an RPG to the chest because subtlety is for people who don’t own rocket launchers. The local militia arrives just in time to be useless. Another Chrome bursts around the corner and tosses a grenade like he’s pitching in the minor leagues. The blonde girl shouts another warning, and everyone sprints toward one of the Chrome, which is definitely not in any safety manual.
The grenade detonates. The silver‑haired rooftop guy vanishes from sight like he’s doing a magic trick.
The Chrome who threw it decides “nope” and sprints away from Alec, Jenna, and Lucas, who is lugging Warren like a very unhappy duffel bag.
Alec unhooks his vibro‑disk, activates it with a dramatic hum, and throws it. It misses. It returns. He activates it again, ready to try for round two, but the silver‑haired man drops from the rooftop like a gothic superhero, landing in a crouch with a laser sword lit and humming.
Lori watches all this from a safe distance, praying nobody mistakes her for a combatant. Or a Chrome. Or a horse thief. Because yes... she’s on a horse.
Alec throws the disk anyway. It slices the Chrome’s head clean off. The body drops, revealing the silver‑haired man standing behind him, laser sword glowing like he’s posing for a poster. The disk loops around his neck politely, not decapitating him, and returns to Alec.
Alec shouts, “Hey, I think we better get the fuck outta here! The boys in blue can handle it!” Then, pointing at the silver‑haired stranger: “Who the fuck are you?”
The man strides forward, retracting his blades with the confidence of someone who has never once lost an argument. He answers coldly, “The leader of the Blue Angels sent me to clean up some Chrome.”
Alec nods. “Nice job! But we need to vacate the area. Need a lift?” He gestures at the incoming militia like they’re an inconvenient weather pattern.
Jedite replies, “How about we meet up later? Name a place and time.”
Lucas and Jenna drag closer to Alec's car. Lucas pants, “I know a good diner about seven blocks from here. It’s calm.” Alec gives Jedite his apartment number, then hops into his Dodge Rocket and drives off in the same direction Lori went.
Jedite calls after him, “By the way, I’m Jedite,” then casually jumps over a two‑story building like it’s a speed bump.
Alec drives up beside Jenna, Lucas, and Warren. “Need a lift?”
Lucas grins. “Yeah, sure!” He shoves Warren into the back like he’s loading groceries.
A militia member starts walking toward Alec’s car. Alec immediately spins the car around and peels out. The militia opens fire. He hears his car get hit by a bullet. “This thing is brand new,” he mutters, deeply offended.
His CB crackles. “Dallas, is that you, you stupid bastard?”
Warren groans awake. “What the fuck... where the fuck am I?”
Alec makes it to his apartment and parks in his usual spot. Jedite is already waiting on a hovercycle like he teleported there.
“Jedite, hello! I’m Alec. You can come upstairs if you’d like.” Alec waves and has his wrist blades extended like he’s expecting ninjas.
Jedite smirks. “No need for that. There’s no one inside.”
Alec shrugs. “Better safe than sorry. Can’t do much when you’re dead…” He steps aside so everyone can enter. He retracts his blades, turns on the lights, and opens his gun safe like he’s showing off a wine collection.
Warren clutches his chest. “Why the fuck does my chest hurt so much?”
Jenna peeks out the window. “That woman is lurking around out there… on a horse.”
Alec strolls over, opens the window, still holding two ion pistols, and shouts down at the pretty brunette with pretty green eyes...
**********************************
Lori urges her horse forward, trying to put distance between herself and the chaos she left behind. The city streets feel too quiet now, too watchful. She’s only a few blocks away from the firefight when a hover jeep glides up beside her, armored men inside bristling with suspicion.
“Miss,” one calls out, voice sharp. “Where are you coming from?”
Lori’s pulse jumps, but she keeps her expression calm. “I came from that way,” she says, pointing behind her. Her long, dark hair falls just right, concealing her elven ears. “And what business is it of yours?” Her tone is controlled, but edged.
“Listen,” the soldier replies, leaning forward. “We have a job to do. If we suspect you were involved in that disturbance, we can detain you.” His gaze lingers on her, assessing. The others shift restlessly, hands near their weapons.
“If you have a job to do,” Lori says, voice low, “then do it. Don’t waste your time on me.”
The driver’s jaw tightens. “Name and where you’re staying. In case we need to ask more questions.”
She gives him a steady look. “Lorianna Dastucar Enthorrina Silveldari. I’m staying at the NG Comfort Suites.”
The jeep goes silent. The driver exhales, almost startled. “Alright… thank you.” They move on, leaving Lori alone with the echo of her own name hanging in the air. She won’t admit it, but the way people freeze when they hear it gives her a strange sense of power.
She continues through the city, eventually circling back toward her hotel. That’s when she sees the Dodge Rocket from earlier, parked like a wounded beast. Bullet hole scarring the bumper. Lights glow in an upstairs apartment. A silhouette moves inside, carrying weapons. A blonde woman peers down at her from the window. Then the silhouette peers through the window as his voice, deep and sharp, cuts through the air, “Who the fuck are you?”
Lori startles, gripping her reins. “I recognized this car from earlier,” she calls back, steadying herself. “That’s all.”
“Hold on,” the man says. “I’ll be right down.” He turns to Jedite. “I need to find some work. Bar run?”
Jedite nods once. “I will accompany you.”
Moments later, all five of them step out of the apartment building. Alec studies Lori with a soldier’s scrutiny. “So… who are you?”
She recognizes each of them from the firefight, based on their movements, their weapons, their faces. “My name is Lorianna Dastucar Enthorrina Silveldari,” she says. “You may call me Lori.”
Alec’s eyes widen. “What the fuck kind of name is that? I can’t even remember it.”
Her gaze sharpens. “It's mine. Given to me by my parents.”
Jedite steps forward, voice calm. “I am Jedite.” Lori remembers the way he dropped from the rooftop, like a silent, precise ninja. Jenna stifles a laugh as Lucas gawks, distracted by her presence.
Alec exhales, grounding himself. “Let me introduce myself properly.” He kneels, taking her hand with unexpected gentleness. “Alec Dallas. And… apologies for earlier. Things get tense when you almost lose your head.”
Jedite’s eyes glow faintly as he observes the annoying exchange. “Where is the bar?” he asks, voice low.
Lori glances at him. “Interesting features, Mr. Jedite.”
Alec mutters, “Nice eyes,” then straightens. “Let’s go.”
Jedite smirks. “I've been called original.”
Alec turns to Lori. “Would you care to join us?”
Jedite’s expression cools, unreadable. He walks to his hovercycle without a word. Alec calls back to Jenna and Lucas, “Stay here. Make sure your friend recovers. The L‑20 that I found should still have a clip.”
Lori mounts her horse. “I’ll come.”
Jenna nods, guiding Lucas and Warren back inside.
Alec starts his car, the 400‑horsepower engine roaring through the complex like a warning. He leads the convoy, consisting of his car, Jedite's hovercycle and Lori's horse, to the Eagle Bar/Café. Glass windows glow softly. The smell of frying food drifts out, warm and grounding.
Inside, Alec sits at the bar. “Whisky,” he says. “And I’m here about a job. Cleaning.”
The bartender meets his eyes with a steady, unreadable expression. “Sit. I’ll bring it... with the receipt.”
Jedite stands behind him, silent as a shadow. Lori finds a menu, scanning it with quiet focus, then orders a bottle of wine and chooses an empty table, watching the room with the wary calm of someone who has survived too much in one day.
The receipt reads as follows:
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Receipt
"Wine: $20
"Whiskey: $10
"House discount due to job order... Ok man, the word on the street is that the Chrome and the militia is looking for you guys. Currently, the Chrome's new plan is to frame the Blue Angels for the death of two militiamen that were killed by an explosive. The militia has also identified you, Alec. I can't offer you a job with you being as hot as you are unless you either help the militia, the Chrome, or the Blue Angels.
"1. Chrome job offer: Sabotage the NG weapons factory, and find a way to frame the Blue Angels for it. Bid: 30,000 credits for the job
"2. The militia members want you to go in and report back in and stand a trial for the death of the two men. Although, they are willing to pardon you if you can bring down the Chrome or find the man that is responsible for the uprising on 54th St and bring him down. IE the Chrome or Blue Angel leader. Bid: 60,000 credits.
"3. Blue Angels need your men to clear your names first, then clear theirs. Everyone knows that you were there... you made enough of a scene. After you clear your name, they want you to clear their name. Bid: A supply of weapons that they can afford. One for each involved with this mission, and an additional 20,000 credits to top that off.
"You are big bad news on the street, man. Keep a low profile and eat and drink your shit and hurry the fuck out! "
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Alec circles options 2 and 3 like he’s signing a peace treaty instead of a job form. He adds his own notes in the margins; because of course he does.
A Naruni Medium Personal Forcefield.
Thirty thousand credits.
Two weapons for himself from the Blue Angels.
One weapon for everyone else who helps.
Plus the twenty thousand.
He hands the paper back with a satisfied nod. “Two birds with one stone, eh?”
The man stares at the paper like Alec just handed him a ransom note as Alec grins. “Thanks. And goodbye.” He leaves before the bartender can decide whether that was polite or threatening.
Outside, Alec climbs into his car, tosses the Fire Breather into the trunk like it’s a gym bag, and heads straight for Militia Headquarters, leaving Jedite and Lori.
The moment he steps through the HQ front doors, chaos hits him like a wall. The waiting area is packed with criminals, gang members, militia officers, all talking over each other. A dozen Blue Angels sit at desks being interrogated. Only three Chrome members are present, looking like they regret every life choice that led them here.
Behind the waiting area: offices, to the right: restrooms and janitorial storage. Farther back is the deep interrogation room and the weapons‑and‑arms center. Below all that is the prisoner section, stretching underground like a bad memory.
Alec barely has time to take in the scene before a detective stands up, spots him, and grins like a wolf, “Well, look who decided to grace us with his pretty‑boy face! Good ole Sgt. Dallas!” He strides over, gets way too close, and whispers rapid‑fire into Alec’s ear, “Boy, you’re in deep shit. Word is you pitched the grenade that killed those two men. Now I think to myself, 'would that crazy bastard do that?' I think not. But you’ve got a lot of ass‑kissing to do when the lieutenant gets back. And I wouldn’t suggest leaving. So what happened?” He tries to sling an arm around Alec’s shoulder and steer him toward the interrogation room like they’re old drinking buddies.
Alec shrugs him off. “Yeah, you know me. I try to keep myself looking nice. Unlike your ugly dog‑shit face.”
The detective sputters. Alec continues, dead serious, “You’ll get the full report. But here’s the short version; I didn’t open fire. A Chrome threw the grenade. Missed me by a mile. Landed by those men. And I got the bastard back. Hacked his head off. Literally.”
The detective stops walking. Alec waits at the interrogation room door, then suddenly remembers. “Oh shit.” He hands over both of his Light Ion pistols like he’s returning borrowed tools. The detective stares at the weapons, then at Alec, then at the weapons again. Alec just smiles.
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Warren looks up at Jenna as the others head out. His voice is rough, still strained. “Jenna… what the hell happened to me? And where’s Lori?” He means their Lori, the Blue Angel who Jenna found dead outside of their gang base.
Alec’s apartment is quiet, dim, and unsettlingly well‑armed. Weapons line the walls in locked cases, more firepower than Jenna ever expected to see in one place. She sits beside Warren, keeping her tone steady. “I kept you alive,” she says. “I wasn’t about to let a friend die in front of me. I used my knowledge and pulled you back. Are you feeling okay?” Once he answers, she tells him everything about the Chrome, the firefight, and Lori’s fate. She’s careful, gentle, but honest.
Warren exhales. “Ahh… I didn’t like that bitch anyway.”
Lucas turns on him instantly, scowling. “Man, you’re a jackass. Jenna could’ve saved her instead of you. You were gone. She saved your life. Try being grateful for..."
“Alright! Shut the fuck up!” Warren snaps, then looks at Jenna, softer. “Thanks. I was just… trying to act tough. I just want to be seen as a normal member of the Angels.” He sinks into Alec’s plush couch. “So who are the others?”
Jenna leans back. “Alec... this is his place. He’s been with us since you got shot. Then there’s Lori… the woman on the horse. If Alec gets his way, he’ll end up ‘together’ with her. But we only met her today.”
“What about the other guy?” Warren asks.
Lucas answers, “Jedite. Something like that.”
Warren’s eyes widen. “Did you see his eyes? And his hair? Wicked cool shit.”
Jenna shakes her head. “Personally, I think he looks like a freak. He acts mysterious on purpose. I don’t trust him.”
Lucas shrugs. “Anyone who can jump fifty feet straight up is tough. Probably one of those wannabe juicer types.”
Warren stiffens. “Hey, I wouldn’t mess with a juicer. I’ve heard stories. Seen what they can do.”
“Whatever he is,” Jenna says, “he’s been decent toward us. Let’s not piss him off. Hopefully he’s not a juicer.”
Lucas nods. “Yeah. Let’s keep him friendly. Makes him a good ally. Wonder when they’re coming back.”
“I don’t know,” Jenna says quietly. “But hopefully soon. We need to figure out what we’re doing about the bodies… and the hideout."
”*******************************************************
Meanwhile, back at the Eagle Bar:
Lori settles in first, uncorking a good bottle of wine and deciding she’s not budging until she’s had at least a couple of glasses and shooing away hopeful wife-seekers. After a few savory glasses paying for the bottle, she tucks it into her belongings and makes a quick sweep through the markets, replenishing whatever supplies she burned through on the road to town. Only then does she head toward Alec’s place.
********************************************************
Elsewhere...
Meanwhile, Jedite has returned to his contact, Drake Biltonman. The two sit in Drake’s private office, if you can call it that, buried somewhere in the bowels of the Ishpeming underground. The place feels less like an office and more like a forgotten bunker with sweating pipes crowding the ceiling, fluorescent lights flicker in sickly intervals, and every shadow seems to breathe.
Jedite speaks low, as if the walls might be listening. “You’ll have to talk to Alec about training your troops. He’s got more experience with that than I do.” His eyes drift toward the trembling light overhead. “All I need from you is where the Chrome hole up. If you know where their main base is… that’d help. A lot.”
Drake doesn’t answer right away. He combs his fiery orange hair backwards, then scratches the stubble on his cheek. The pipes hiss. Something clanks in the dark beyond the doorway. And the silence stretches just a little too long. He looks up, and begins planning...
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Alec's Place:
By the time Lori steps back into the apartment, Jenna already has the L‑20 in hand, just in case. Lori’s horse is still tied outside like it owns the curb.
Lucas glances up. “So what’s the plan?”
Warren, loud as ever, blurts, “Wow, she’s not half bad! Kinda tall though…”
Lori gives him a glare sharp enough to shave metal, holds it for a couple seconds, then pointedly ignores him as she greets Jenna and Lucas instead, “I don’t know what the plan is,” she says, brushing dust off her sleeve. “They left on some errand and told me to come back here.”
Lucas throws his hands skyward like the universe has forsaken him. “Oh, perfect! Typical! Because we’re not gun‑toting, building‑leaping, mega‑powered superheroes like them, we get stuck babysitting his little armory.”
Warren leans back, eyes drifting up toward Lori with the subtlety of a foghorn. “So… where are you from?”
Lori doesn’t dignify him with an answer. She just fires a look that could curdle milk before turning her attention elsewhere.
Meanwhile, Jenna taps Lucas’s shoulder with the gentleness of someone about to make a very unreasonable request. “Sweetie, would you do me a favor and give me a shoulder massage? I really need one.” He stares at her, then at the armory, then at the ceiling as if hoping divine intervention might arrive and explain how his life became this, “Yeah, sure,” he mutters, still wincing from the burn on his ear. Jenna can’t tell if he’s hinting for sympathy or actually hurting.
Either way, he moves behind her on the couch and starts working his hands gently into her shoulders. The cool release of her muscles easing makes her exhale. “How’s this feel?” he asks.
Warren watches, smirking. “Aaaawww, isn’t that just cute?” His sarcasm practically drips onto the floor.
Jenna doesn’t even turn around. “Warren, shut up and pay attention. If you ever want to keep a girl happy, you better learn how to do this.” Lucas can feel her tense at Warren’s comment, but she forces herself to relax again. “It feels really good,” she tells Lucas, softer this time.
Warren’s smirk fades. “Well soooorry…” He slightly slumps, “It’s kinda hard to feel nice to anyone when nobody’s nice to me. The Blue Angels haven’t even accepted me. You two are the only ones who even give a damn. So why are you so nice?” His voice shifts. He exhibits no sarcasm, no bravado; just honesty.
Lucas keeps massaging, steady and calm. “Because we know what it’s like to feel like rejects, Warren. So it’s best to stick together.”
Jenna opens her eyes, glancing toward the door. “When are they coming back?” she asks again, avoiding the issue as tension creeping back into her shoulders.
With the discussion still simmering, Jedite steps into the apartment.
Lori stands off to the side, arms folded, watching the three like she’s trying to decide whether to intervene or pretend she’s not associated with any of them. Warren gawks at Jenna and Lucas, mostly Jenna, while Lucas continues giving her a careful, steady shoulder massage.
Jedite nods to the room, unfazed by the awkwardness, and holds out a small piece of metal to Jenna. “Drake says you can use this to find out where the Chrome are,” voice calm but carrying weight. “If you do… I owe you one.” He steps back, crosses his arms, and waits like he’s bracing for whatever strange energy this group is about to radiate next.
Jenna turns the metal over in her hands, analyzing every ridge and seam with the same focus she had while trying to relax under Lucas’s massage.
For a moment, everyone’s waiting to see what Jenna sees. Jedite nods towards her as he heads for the door. “If you figure anything out, I’ll be on the roof.” He leaves without waiting for a reply. A moment later, the sound of boots on metal stairs fades upward. Once outside, he strips off his armor and starts working out with fluid motions, sharp strikes, the bright flare of an energy blade cutting arcs through the air in a display of luminescent, circular, arial art.
Inside, Jenna closes her eyes, holding the metal fragment between both hands. The room quiets. Twenty long minutes pass with Lucas behind her; still massaging, Warren watching with wide eyes, Lori leaning against the wall pretending not to be curious. When Jenna finally opens her eyes, they’re almost glowing bright blue.
Lucas breaks the silence. “What was that all about?”
Jenna exhales, shaking off the last of the trance. “Just zoning out. Don’t worry.” She stands, brushing her hands off. “I’m going to talk to Jedite.”
She steps outside, catching glimpses of him through the rooftop shadows, with his black and silver‑lined clothing, muscles coiled, energy blades humming; he regularly switches from one form to another.
“Jedite?” she calls, climbing up. “Umm… they’re in a building. An apartment building, I think. Near the edge of town. And there’s a forest behind it.” She hands him, offering the metal, her eyes still faintly glowing.
*******************************************************
NG Militia HQ:
The head of the board gestures to the lone empty chair, “Have a seat, Staff Sgt. Dallas.”
Alec takes in the room, noticing every face stern, every posture stiff. More people are ushered in from the back, consisting of one restrained Chrome, two Blue Angels. oO( Such a lovely audience)Oo As spits on the Chrome as he walks by, “Fucken pig," and he drops into the chair with a casual slouch. “So, who do I owe the honor of sitting in front of this illustrious crowd today?” He flashes a smile that’s half charm, half challenge.
The audience exchanges indignant glances as the gray‑haired chairman doesn’t blink, “You’ve been accused of causing the deaths, accidental or not, of two of our men. This Chrome claims he saw you throw the grenade. What’s your side of the story?”
Alec folds his arms. “Well now. I’m driving along, minding my own business, when a gang war decides to explode around me. I get out to take cover... and maybe get a little action in. I drop two Chrome in a warehouse. They jumped out, shot a bum, so I shot them. After that, I see a Chrome toss a grenade. I dive out of the way. It lands by the two unfortunate compadres.” He shrugs, “I decapitated the bastard later. And if I may add a little common sense: Why the hell would I throw a grenade when I’ve got an over‑and‑under laser/grenade launcher? A Firebreather, in other words.”
The chairman steeples his fingers. “We also want to question the people you were with. Who are they? Two of them were Blue Angels.”
Alec leans back. “Sure. Coffee would do me good right now,” he waves a hand, “As for other people? No clue what you’re talking about. I was driving, gang war erupts, bullets rain down, I fire a few rounds, break a few things, and then you folks show up. I high‑tailed it out. And you SHOT my CAR!”
The chairman’s tone tightens. “Some city rats claim they saw you with three others. They say you saved their lives. Commendable! But it’s your word against theirs. Their stories match. We need to know what you were doing in the slums. What exactly happened?”
Alec sighs,, “Like I said. It was just me. I fired the shots. I killed those pricks in the alley and the street. Then your men arrived, a gang member threw a grenade at me, missed, killed the militia men, and I hacked his blasted head off! Fair enough?”
The chairman doesn’t flinch. “We can sidestep that. What about the two Blue Angels," he rifles through some notes, " Oh here it is... Jenna and Lucas, who were with you? Didn’t you save their lives when you took down the two Chrome? And then drive off with them?” Around the table, militia staff uncomfortably stare at their hands.
Alec raises his brows. “Jenna? Lucas? Never heard of them. Saved two people? Sure. Someone got shot. That’s why I got out. Then it started raining bullets. Yes, this version’s different, but it’s not important," he leans forward, “I didn’t give anyone a lift. I don’t know them. So you’re actually believing a deadbeat Chrome over me?”
The chairman shakes his head. “No. It wasn’t the Chrome. Militia members and several Blue Angels, including the two seated here, noticed. They know the people you picked up personally. What are you hiding, Sergeant?”
Alec’s smile returns, thin and sharp. “I’m not hiding anything, sir. And I’d like to know why I’m even here, considering the little job offer I got comes with a full pardon.”
The head of the board leans forward, hands folded, voice smooth. “Well, Sergeant, if you take the job, we can grant you a full pardon and a contract as one of our top men. How does that sound? Why pass up an offer like this?” There’s a smile on his face now, it seems too practiced, too ready. Alec can already tell they had this whole pitch rehearsed, “The contract,” the man continues, “would involve some of our hairiest assignments, like undercover work, assassination missions. Pay is negotiable, provided your performance is… satisfactory.”
Alec raises a finger. “Hold on.” He stands, strolls casually toward the restrained Chrome, gives him a friendly smile... then knocks him out cold with a overhand punch. The room jolts, but Alec just walks back and sits down like he stepped out for a glass of water, “Since you’re asking me to take on an entire gang,” he says, settling in, “I want a few things before I start. First, a down payment. And I know you’ve got some nifty toys in that armory.”
He ticks off his demands on his fingers.
“One: a Naruni Medium Forcefield, installed on my armor.
Two: the new Coalition Heavy Plasma Cannon.
And when the job’s done, sixty thousand more credits. Cheap, considering how badly that gang beat the hell out of a platoon of your militia.”
The board murmurs as the chairman clears his throat. “Dallas, we can't offer you the Naruni Forcefield and the cannon is unavailable... assigned to the northern operation. But we can offer you ninety thousand credits to seal the task, plus an agreement to take on at least one more mission. Rates negotiable when the time comes. Don't you already have one of those alien contraptions?”
Alec nods slowly, “Alright, deal! But the second mission is at my discretion. And you’re supplying all my ammo.” He looks around the room. “Now, where’re the keys so I can handpick a nice rifle?"
Looks of disbelief spread like a wave across his audience.
*******************************************************
Later that day:
Jedite addresses the room just after Alec returns, his tone flat and decisive. “I’m heading out to make the Chrome suffer. Whoever’s coming, let’s go. If you plan on waiting around… I’ll see if I can save you any.” Without another word, Jedite strides out of the apartment and takes off down the street, already moving faster than anyone should without bionics.
Jenna mutters loud enough for everyone to hear, “We might as well go. What else are we gonna do? Sit here?” She gets up and heads after him, determined to figure out what his actual plan is. Lori also follows, mostly because Jenna seems to know where she’s going.
Alec moves to his weapons safe with practiced efficiency. He pulls out his WI‑GL4 revolving grenade launcher and loads it with alternating armor‑piercing and frag grenades. He grabs a bandolier and clips and twenty‑four more grenades. Both light ion pistols are holstered. He reloads his 'Fire Breather', packs extra magazines and a reload set, then shoulders the weapon, and throws on his black leather trench coat. Afterwards, he runs after Jenna and Jedite. “Jedite! Slow down, man!”
“Jedite, do us all a favor and slow the hell down!” Jenna shouts, thoroughly annoyed. Unfortunately, he's already out of sight, sprinting up the street like a man possessed. Lucas bursts out of the apartment, leaving Warren behind. He manages to sprint past Jenna and Lori, catching up to Alec, “Uh, Warren says he’s staying behind to recuperate,” he manages between breaths. “I figured I could help.” as he matches Alec's pace, “Can I use one of those pistols? Mine are all back at our HQ.”
The group reaches the outskirts of Chrome territory. Jenna ducks behind bushes, houses, cars and anything that gives her a vantage point, trying to get a clear look of the situation as Lucas arrives. He shouts toward the rooftops, “Hey, Jedite! Jenna’s the one we should be following! She knows what to look for! I think!”
Alec sneaks up next to them, tapping Lucas with his index finger over his lips, shushing him. He hands Lucas a pistol... safety on with no round chambered.
Lucas slips the pistol into his leather jacket, grinning. “Hey! cool. Thanks, man," he then asks Jenna, “Is this it?”
Jenna glances back and then nods forward, “Yeah… looks like it.” Her eyes sweep the area, searching for any sign of movement. “So what’s the plan, guys?”
Alec adjusts his gear, admiring the weight of the Fire Breather settling against his back. “We kick some serious ass,” he says, matter‑of‑fact, as if it’s the only plan that ever existed. His visor flickers as the thermal scan completes. Multiple heat signatures glow from the tents, scattered just outside the city limits, clustered, active and definitely occupied. Beyond that, the landscape is cold. No other humanoid signatures. No movement. Just the tents. Alec lowers the launcher slightly, eyes narrowing. “Looks like there are people in all the tents,” he says to Jenna. “Are you sure this is it?” He shifts his grip on the grenade launcher, settling the weapon into ready position as the silence grows heavier.
Lori arrives analyzing the group. Her eyes narrow as she focuses on Jenna and Lucas, “Are either of you actually wearing armor?” She steps closer, already anticipating the answer. “If not, or if it’s just light stuff, I can cast something on you. It’s not much, and it’ll only last a minute, but it’s better than nothing.”
They both nod enthusiastically for her offer of help.
She smiles, nodding, then readies several combat spells and then focuses, waving several fingers around and speaking in some strange arcane language. Seconds later, both gangers are surrounded by a faint, rippling shimmer; like an invisible field settling around them as a second skin.
They both feel it immediately; a strange, cool pressure, like standing inside a protective bubble. Jenna exhales, rubbing her forehead as her breath splashes back at her, “Well, it looks like we’re at the wrong place,” her voice carries a frustrated edge. “Figures. I’m not exactly great at finding things.”
She suspiciously eyes the horizon, tension tightening her shoulders. “We better go find the right place.”
******************************************************
Rooftops:
Jedite scans the area from his rooftop perch, every detail sharpening under the weight of instinct. A cluster of vehicles sits in the junkyard below, but it's too clean, too organized. They don’t belong. Across the road from the junkyard, a rundown supermarket sits, but not abandoned; its faded sign is defaced with circle of fresh silver chrome spray‑paint, the Chrome insignia gleaming like a warning.
He turns his attention back to the junkyard. Smoke curls from a small shack buried among scattered, dragged‑in vehicles. Shadows move inside, but too many for a simple hideout.
Next to the supermarket, some apartments look inhabited, vehicles neatly parked in the crumbling parking lot. The street's also cracked and neglected as a forest looms behind everything, dark and watchful.
Between Jedite’s building, which is an abandoned, vandalized and defunct power station, and the junkyard, a narrow alley runs like a vein of darkness. Across the two‑lane road, the supermarket sprawls across half a block. Its scratched plexiglass doors barely hold together. Figures drift along the torn‑up terrain behind it on excavated land, leveled but never built on. A perfect place to disappear.
Jedite moves. He swiftly scampers toward the supermarket, silent as a shadow. When he finds no easy entry, he leaps thirty feet straight up, landing on the roof with barely a sound. He draws an energy blade, its hum slicing through the quiet, and carves a hole through the concrete. Debris crashes onto a catwalk below.
“What the hell!” someone shouts. Footsteps thunder.
Jedite steps back from the hole, then cuts a second one beneath himself. As he and a concrete slab drop, he grabs the ledge to slow his descent, letting the slab and rubble rain down ahead of him. He releases, ignites his second blade, and lands in a crouch... ready.
Two men in silver streaked leather stare at him, shocked, hands diving for weapons. A third is still gawking at the ceiling. Jedite stands on a narrow catwalk above crates filled with cybernetic implants and weapons. His awareness spikes, signifying intense danger close by.
A laser shot cracks upward from between crates, missing him by inches and punching a hole clean through the roof. He reacts instantly by shoving the two nearest men off the catwalk in a burst of telekinetic force. They hit the concrete hard, gasping. The 'sniper' fires again, missing and blowing apart a crate of weapons.
“Fuck… this must be Gruber’s friend…” one of the fallen men wheezes.
Jedite’s voice is cold. “Give up, and you live long enough to talk.”
Two men sit where they fell, hands raised. The third freezes mid‑reach, surrendering. But a fourth man, hidden until now, holds his ground. “I have a clear shot at you,” he warns. “I suggest you give up.”
Jedite laughs as he flicks his hand. The man’s weapon rips free, flying into Jedite’s grasp. The man stands, defeated, hands up. “Fucking d-bee,” he mutters. “What do you want with us?”
Jedite motions them together, blades still lit, eyes sharp. “Which of these surrounding buildings do you Chrome use?” Yet, the room holds its breath. The men, mostly older teenagers and young adults, gather in a loose semicircle in front of Jedite. Their faces are tense, eyes darting between him and the surrounding crates.
“We use this place,” says the one who lost his rifle, “Why do you think we’re all here? You’re in for a big surprise when you find out more about us. It ain’t gonna be pretty. Don’t ask me what’s going on, but I do know this. The Chrome are up to something big. I just don’t know what.”
Jedite’s expression doesn’t change. “Maybe I should make myself a little more clear,” he lashes out with a telekinetic strike, fast and precise, catching the speaker across the mouth, temple, and nose, staggering him. Jedite steps forward, blades humming softly. “Where are the other Chrome right now?”
The room goes still. No one breathes.
Jedite faces the other three, energy blades humming faintly at his sides. The young men watch, wide‑eyed, shaken, like prey waiting for the next move, “Well, boys,” he says, voice calm in a way that makes it worse, “if you want to keep living, then I suggest you run. Fast.” He steps forward, gaze sweeping across them, “If you’re out of sight within ten seconds, I won’t kill you. And if I were you, I’d leave the whole area. Because from this point on… any Chrome I see is done.”
He beings counting, slow and deliberate.
“One…
Two…
Three…
Four…”
The captives don’t wait for five.
Notable Characters with submitted profiles:
Jenna Page: viewtopic.php?p=2516&sid=1c166348b87729 ... 6d5c#p2516
Lorianna: viewtopic.php?p=2513&sid=1c166348b87729 ... 6d5c#p2513
Drake Biltonman: viewtopic.php?p=2505&sid=1c166348b87729 ... 6d5c#p2505
Lucas Bloomfield: viewtopic.php?p=2509&sid=1c166348b87729 ... 6d5c#p2509
Gruber Chekolovski: viewtopic.php?p=2507&sid=1c166348b87729 ... 6d5c#p2507
Bruce Wolfstien/Robbie the Repair Bot: viewtopic.php?t=139&sid=1c166348b87729a ... ef24906d5c
Jenna Page walks the streets of Ishpeming: The Northern Gun: a city of steel, smoke, and military ambition.
Its population swells past 150,000, a restless mix of humans, mutants, psychics, and the occasional magician. Power hums beneath the concrete. Suspicion lingers in every alley. But nothing is outlawed yet. The people here grow up sharp, educated, and wary... just like Jenna.
She moves through the city with the quiet confidence of someone who’s survived too much. After a few brutal run‑ins with the Chrome, she drifts naturally toward their rivals, the Blue Angels. Two gangs locked in a cycle of blood and vengeance. Jenna has buried more friends than she can count, each loss carving her colder, harder, less willing to trust the world.
It is June 4, 102 P.A., and the summer air carries the metallic tang of distant machinery.
She walks beside Lucas, her current boyfriend. He’s all dark hair, dark eyes, and darker clothes and is lean, 5'10", and built like someone who’s never quite figured out how to exist comfortably in his own skin. His attitude is a blend of calm cynicism and smartass commentary, especially when someone states the obvious. But with Jenna, he softens. He sees something different in her, something dangerous, something he respects.
Trailing with them is Lori, bouncing lightly with every step. A true-blue blonde, petite at 5'4", wrapped in her usual colors of blue and black. Her brown eyes sparkle with a kind of oblivious cheerfulness. She blurts out whatever crosses her mind, often the most obvious thing possible, and it grates on Lucas like sandpaper. Still, she hops along, unbothered, a bright little spark in a city built on gunmetal and grit.
Jenna, Lucas, and Lori follow their usual path from the diner, drifting down cracked sidewalks toward 54th Street. The city hums around them with engines growling in the distance, metal clanking from the factories, sunlight glinting off rusted rooftops. When they turn the corner, the rest of the Blue Angels come into view.
Warren spots them first. He bursts out from the cluster of gang members, jogging over with his usual mix of swagger and barely-contained attitude. Short, sharp-tongued, and always two seconds from starting a fight, yet he treats Jenna and Lucas with a rare kind of respect.
Behind him looms the warehouse. From the outside, it looks like a dying beast: walls sagging, metal siding peeling, windows cracked or boarded. It dominates most of the block, a massive structure that seems one strong breeze away from collapsing. But inside, it’s a different world; rebuilt, reinforced, carved into living spaces for every gang member and a handful of close friends. The interior halls are guarded by sentinel members in gladiator armor, each carrying heavy weapons and watching the entrances with disciplined stillness.
The trio stops outside the headquarters, sunlight warming their shoulders. A few clouds drift lazily overhead, giving the day a calm, almost cheerful glow. They chat about the roleplaying game they’d been laughing over at the diner with voices relaxed, steps unhurried.
Jenna keeps her expression neutral, but her mind stays alert. To her knowledge, only two other psychics run with the Blue Angels: Warren, and Drake, the gang’s newest leader. No one else knows what she is. Warren figured it out. Lucas… might suspect, judging by the way he watches her sometimes.
As they stand there talking, Warren suddenly sways. Then he drops, collapsing straight to the ground as if someone cut his strings. No warning or sound. Just his body hitting concrete.
Jenna drops to her knees so fast the others barely register the movement. Her hand goes to Warren’s shoulder, steady but urgent. “Warren… hey! Warren, talk to me.” Her voice is low, controlled, but there’s a sharp edge beneath it.
As she leans over him, a sleek Dodge Rocket slowly and deliberately rolls past. Its engine purrs like a predator sizing up prey. Behind the tinted window, a light‑brown‑haired, green‑eyed stranger studies the scene with unsettling focus, gaze lingering on Jenna, on Warren, on the gang clustered nearby. The car doesn’t stop. It just glides by, watching.
Lucas crouches beside Jenna, scanning the street, tension tightening his jaw. Lori hovers behind them, hands fluttering uselessly.
Jenna turns Warren over. His eyes stay shut. And then she sees the dark red bloom spreads across his chest, soaking through his shirt, pulsing from a massive wound.
Lucas inhales sharply, the sound almost a gasp. The sunlight suddenly feels colder. The cheerful walk, the easy conversation, the calm afternoon are all gone in an instant. Warren isn’t unconscious. He's dying.
*******************************************************
OOC: Scott and Tara, you both are within talking range of each other.
Scott's Address: hoser18@eagle.ptialaska.net
Tara's Zadia57@hotmail.com
*******************************************************
Alec Dallas rolls past in his Dodge Rocket, eyes narrowing behind the windshield as he catches the sight of Warren’s collapsed body. Even from the street, he can tell something is fatally wrong. The moment the realization hits, he brakes hard, the Rocket hissing to a stop.
He moves fast. Armor plates clatter as he pulls them on, each piece locking into place with a sharp mechanical click. The transformation is quick, practiced, like he’s done this a hundred times before. Then he strides toward Jenna and drops to one knee beside her, the sunlight flashing off his gear. The gang members gathered around, eye him with suspicion. He takes one look at Warren. “Looks like your friend was sniped,” he says, voice low, grim.
Alec taps the side of his helmet. “Faceplate down.” His visor slides shut with a metallic snap, and a faint hum rises as his armor activates its thermal scan. He turns his head slowly, sweeping the street, the rooftops, the alleys searching for the ghost of a heat signature, the fading trace of a shooter. While the scan runs, he speaks again, tone edged with suspicion, “So… who was your friend? And why would someone want to kill him?”
The question hangs in the air like a tightening noose. Jenna instinctively ducks and grabs Lucas and pulls him down as a bullet ricochets off of Alec's armor.
Jenna’s voice slices through the panic, sharp and urgent. “Lucas, we have to move him. Now! I can’t help him out here. Where’s the nearest place we can hide?”
Lucas doesn’t hesitate. “Follow me.”
They haul Warren’s limp body across the street, Jenna gripping him with desperate strength, Lucas supporting the dead weight as best he can. The rundown stucco building looms ahead with cracked walls, sagging roof, a place forgotten by the city. Inside, the air is stale and sour. A drunk slumps just past the doorway, barely stirring as they drag Warren past him, his muttered groan swallowed by the dimness.
“Set him down,” Jenna says, breath tight. “I need to work. Every second counts.” She kneels beside Warren, staring at him, almost through him, with her eyes distant, calculating. Lucas watches her, baffled.
“What are you doing?” he asks, sarcasm masking the fear in his voice.
Then Jenna sees it all at once: the bullet’s path, the shattered bone, the trauma blooming inside Warren’s chest. The round lodged near his scapula. The damage around his heart. He’s hanging on by threads.
Lucas tries to steady himself. “So what now? You’re not a psychic or anything… right?” Jenna doesn’t answer. She’s already preparing.
Across the room, Alec approaches the drunk, trying to make sense of the chaos, “So, man… what’s going on?”
The drunk snorts awake. “What? Can’t you hear the firefight? Another damn gang war…” His stench, a vile mix of urine, sweat, whiskey, rolls through the room like a physical force. Alec turns away without responding, moving back to the doorway. His visor hums as he scans the street for heat signatures, searching for the shooter who started all this.
Minutes stretch thin. Then Jenna moves without warning as she plunges her hands straight into Warren’s chest.
Lucas recoils, eyes wide. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
She doesn’t speak or flinch. Her hands work with terrifying precision, navigating warm, slick organs as if she’s done this a thousand times. She finds the bullet flattened, mangled, unmistakably from an assault rifle, and pulls it free. Warren’s body shudders. She withdraws her hands and presses them against his torn flesh. The skin knits together beneath her palms, sealing seamlessly, as though the wound never existed. The room falls silent.
Even the drunk stops breathing for a moment. And Lucas realizes whatever Jenna is… she’s far more dangerous, and far more powerful, than he ever imagined.
*******************************************************
Jedite watches the chaos unfold from the shadows, his posture coiled, predatory. Then, without warning, he launches upward, clearing the alley in a single impossible leap. He lands on the warehouse rooftop like a human‑sized grasshopper, metal groaning beneath his boots. From the corner of the roof, he surveys the street below.
Movement. Two Chrome slip out of a side door, scanning the area with nervous, twitchy glances. his eyes narrow. His hands rise. Twin laser swords ignite with a violent hiss, bathing his face in cold, lethal light. He steps forward menacingly slow and deliberate. The hunt has begun.
******************************************************
<Chaser1> . Enter Jedite
<Chaser1> Email.... anthonysuxcock@hotmail.com
*******************************************************
Outside, the street turns volatile.
A Chrome soldier steps into view, clad in the gang’s standard armor and helmet; chrome‑bright, unmistakable. Alec ducks back inside the doorway, slipping out of sight as his visor feeds him new thermal readings. More signatures appear across the surrounding streets. More bodies, scattered farther out.
The drunk mutters, “Man… maybe I should get the hell outta here! This is the worst one I’ve seen yet!” A bullet snaps through the doorway, ricocheting off the cement floor, and shatters the bottle in his hand. He barely reacts and just blinks at the broken glass.
On the rooftop, the Chrome soldier edges backward, unaware he’s being watched. Alec tracks him through thermal optics. He fires twice through the stucco wall and roof corner. Two sharp cracks emanate as the energy beam splits the air. The first shot misses. The second hits. The Chrome’s body goes limp as he tumbles over the edge, landing on the pavement with a dull, wet heavy smack.
The drunk suddenly stiffens. Blood spills from his nose and mouth, his eyes wide with agony. Behind him stand two more Chrome. This time in full Urban Warrior armor, painted in chaotic chrome colors, each gripping an L20 pulse rifle.
Alec reacts instantly, diving for cover.
Inside the building, the danger closes in. Footsteps pound overhead from multiple people on the roof. Lucas ducks instinctively, glancing at Warren, then scanning for Lori. Panic spikes through him. She’s gone.
A flash of light streaks overhead. Another beam slices past Lucas’s ear, scorching it. He screams, clutching the side of his head as chunks of ceiling break loose, raining dust and stone over him and Warren.
Jenna snaps toward him. “Lucas, are you okay? We need to get out of here, now!”
********************************
(Not to be confused with gang member Lori, who just went missing)
Lorianna Dastucar Enthorrina Silveldari, or Lori, because nobody has time for all that, stands at the end of the street, watching an extremely silver‑haired man hop off a hovercycle in a hurry. His armor is black, silver‑trimmed, and absolutely screaming “I moisturize.” He leaps to the warehouse roof just as a gunshot cracks through the air.
She looks up the street. Bodies everywhere. Blue‑and‑black gang members scattered like confetti at a very poorly planned parade. Only a few Chrome gangsters remain, and even they look like they’re reconsidering their life choices.
********************************
From his rooftop perch, Jedite watches the chaos unfold. Down below, a man in black alien‑esque armor, Alec, casually uses a C‑14 firebreather to erase a Chrome from existence. Two of Alec’s friends hover in the doorway of an orange stucco building, dragging an unconscious, blood‑coated guy like they’re moving furniture.
Then the blonde girl suddenly yanks her leather‑clad friend out of the way of a bullet with the reflexes of someone who’s been shot at way too many times.
Alec finishes off the last Chrome with an RPG to the chest because subtlety is for people who don’t own rocket launchers. The local militia arrives just in time to be useless. Another Chrome bursts around the corner and tosses a grenade like he’s pitching in the minor leagues. The blonde girl shouts another warning, and everyone sprints toward one of the Chrome, which is definitely not in any safety manual.
The grenade detonates. The silver‑haired rooftop guy vanishes from sight like he’s doing a magic trick.
The Chrome who threw it decides “nope” and sprints away from Alec, Jenna, and Lucas, who is lugging Warren like a very unhappy duffel bag.
Alec unhooks his vibro‑disk, activates it with a dramatic hum, and throws it. It misses. It returns. He activates it again, ready to try for round two, but the silver‑haired man drops from the rooftop like a gothic superhero, landing in a crouch with a laser sword lit and humming.
Lori watches all this from a safe distance, praying nobody mistakes her for a combatant. Or a Chrome. Or a horse thief. Because yes... she’s on a horse.
Alec throws the disk anyway. It slices the Chrome’s head clean off. The body drops, revealing the silver‑haired man standing behind him, laser sword glowing like he’s posing for a poster. The disk loops around his neck politely, not decapitating him, and returns to Alec.
Alec shouts, “Hey, I think we better get the fuck outta here! The boys in blue can handle it!” Then, pointing at the silver‑haired stranger: “Who the fuck are you?”
The man strides forward, retracting his blades with the confidence of someone who has never once lost an argument. He answers coldly, “The leader of the Blue Angels sent me to clean up some Chrome.”
Alec nods. “Nice job! But we need to vacate the area. Need a lift?” He gestures at the incoming militia like they’re an inconvenient weather pattern.
Jedite replies, “How about we meet up later? Name a place and time.”
Lucas and Jenna drag closer to Alec's car. Lucas pants, “I know a good diner about seven blocks from here. It’s calm.” Alec gives Jedite his apartment number, then hops into his Dodge Rocket and drives off in the same direction Lori went.
Jedite calls after him, “By the way, I’m Jedite,” then casually jumps over a two‑story building like it’s a speed bump.
Alec drives up beside Jenna, Lucas, and Warren. “Need a lift?”
Lucas grins. “Yeah, sure!” He shoves Warren into the back like he’s loading groceries.
A militia member starts walking toward Alec’s car. Alec immediately spins the car around and peels out. The militia opens fire. He hears his car get hit by a bullet. “This thing is brand new,” he mutters, deeply offended.
His CB crackles. “Dallas, is that you, you stupid bastard?”
Warren groans awake. “What the fuck... where the fuck am I?”
Alec makes it to his apartment and parks in his usual spot. Jedite is already waiting on a hovercycle like he teleported there.
“Jedite, hello! I’m Alec. You can come upstairs if you’d like.” Alec waves and has his wrist blades extended like he’s expecting ninjas.
Jedite smirks. “No need for that. There’s no one inside.”
Alec shrugs. “Better safe than sorry. Can’t do much when you’re dead…” He steps aside so everyone can enter. He retracts his blades, turns on the lights, and opens his gun safe like he’s showing off a wine collection.
Warren clutches his chest. “Why the fuck does my chest hurt so much?”
Jenna peeks out the window. “That woman is lurking around out there… on a horse.”
Alec strolls over, opens the window, still holding two ion pistols, and shouts down at the pretty brunette with pretty green eyes...
**********************************
Lori urges her horse forward, trying to put distance between herself and the chaos she left behind. The city streets feel too quiet now, too watchful. She’s only a few blocks away from the firefight when a hover jeep glides up beside her, armored men inside bristling with suspicion.
“Miss,” one calls out, voice sharp. “Where are you coming from?”
Lori’s pulse jumps, but she keeps her expression calm. “I came from that way,” she says, pointing behind her. Her long, dark hair falls just right, concealing her elven ears. “And what business is it of yours?” Her tone is controlled, but edged.
“Listen,” the soldier replies, leaning forward. “We have a job to do. If we suspect you were involved in that disturbance, we can detain you.” His gaze lingers on her, assessing. The others shift restlessly, hands near their weapons.
“If you have a job to do,” Lori says, voice low, “then do it. Don’t waste your time on me.”
The driver’s jaw tightens. “Name and where you’re staying. In case we need to ask more questions.”
She gives him a steady look. “Lorianna Dastucar Enthorrina Silveldari. I’m staying at the NG Comfort Suites.”
The jeep goes silent. The driver exhales, almost startled. “Alright… thank you.” They move on, leaving Lori alone with the echo of her own name hanging in the air. She won’t admit it, but the way people freeze when they hear it gives her a strange sense of power.
She continues through the city, eventually circling back toward her hotel. That’s when she sees the Dodge Rocket from earlier, parked like a wounded beast. Bullet hole scarring the bumper. Lights glow in an upstairs apartment. A silhouette moves inside, carrying weapons. A blonde woman peers down at her from the window. Then the silhouette peers through the window as his voice, deep and sharp, cuts through the air, “Who the fuck are you?”
Lori startles, gripping her reins. “I recognized this car from earlier,” she calls back, steadying herself. “That’s all.”
“Hold on,” the man says. “I’ll be right down.” He turns to Jedite. “I need to find some work. Bar run?”
Jedite nods once. “I will accompany you.”
Moments later, all five of them step out of the apartment building. Alec studies Lori with a soldier’s scrutiny. “So… who are you?”
She recognizes each of them from the firefight, based on their movements, their weapons, their faces. “My name is Lorianna Dastucar Enthorrina Silveldari,” she says. “You may call me Lori.”
Alec’s eyes widen. “What the fuck kind of name is that? I can’t even remember it.”
Her gaze sharpens. “It's mine. Given to me by my parents.”
Jedite steps forward, voice calm. “I am Jedite.” Lori remembers the way he dropped from the rooftop, like a silent, precise ninja. Jenna stifles a laugh as Lucas gawks, distracted by her presence.
Alec exhales, grounding himself. “Let me introduce myself properly.” He kneels, taking her hand with unexpected gentleness. “Alec Dallas. And… apologies for earlier. Things get tense when you almost lose your head.”
Jedite’s eyes glow faintly as he observes the annoying exchange. “Where is the bar?” he asks, voice low.
Lori glances at him. “Interesting features, Mr. Jedite.”
Alec mutters, “Nice eyes,” then straightens. “Let’s go.”
Jedite smirks. “I've been called original.”
Alec turns to Lori. “Would you care to join us?”
Jedite’s expression cools, unreadable. He walks to his hovercycle without a word. Alec calls back to Jenna and Lucas, “Stay here. Make sure your friend recovers. The L‑20 that I found should still have a clip.”
Lori mounts her horse. “I’ll come.”
Jenna nods, guiding Lucas and Warren back inside.
Alec starts his car, the 400‑horsepower engine roaring through the complex like a warning. He leads the convoy, consisting of his car, Jedite's hovercycle and Lori's horse, to the Eagle Bar/Café. Glass windows glow softly. The smell of frying food drifts out, warm and grounding.
Inside, Alec sits at the bar. “Whisky,” he says. “And I’m here about a job. Cleaning.”
The bartender meets his eyes with a steady, unreadable expression. “Sit. I’ll bring it... with the receipt.”
Jedite stands behind him, silent as a shadow. Lori finds a menu, scanning it with quiet focus, then orders a bottle of wine and chooses an empty table, watching the room with the wary calm of someone who has survived too much in one day.
The receipt reads as follows:
*******************************************************
Receipt
"Wine: $20
"Whiskey: $10
"House discount due to job order... Ok man, the word on the street is that the Chrome and the militia is looking for you guys. Currently, the Chrome's new plan is to frame the Blue Angels for the death of two militiamen that were killed by an explosive. The militia has also identified you, Alec. I can't offer you a job with you being as hot as you are unless you either help the militia, the Chrome, or the Blue Angels.
"1. Chrome job offer: Sabotage the NG weapons factory, and find a way to frame the Blue Angels for it. Bid: 30,000 credits for the job
"2. The militia members want you to go in and report back in and stand a trial for the death of the two men. Although, they are willing to pardon you if you can bring down the Chrome or find the man that is responsible for the uprising on 54th St and bring him down. IE the Chrome or Blue Angel leader. Bid: 60,000 credits.
"3. Blue Angels need your men to clear your names first, then clear theirs. Everyone knows that you were there... you made enough of a scene. After you clear your name, they want you to clear their name. Bid: A supply of weapons that they can afford. One for each involved with this mission, and an additional 20,000 credits to top that off.
"You are big bad news on the street, man. Keep a low profile and eat and drink your shit and hurry the fuck out! "
******************************************
Alec circles options 2 and 3 like he’s signing a peace treaty instead of a job form. He adds his own notes in the margins; because of course he does.
A Naruni Medium Personal Forcefield.
Thirty thousand credits.
Two weapons for himself from the Blue Angels.
One weapon for everyone else who helps.
Plus the twenty thousand.
He hands the paper back with a satisfied nod. “Two birds with one stone, eh?”
The man stares at the paper like Alec just handed him a ransom note as Alec grins. “Thanks. And goodbye.” He leaves before the bartender can decide whether that was polite or threatening.
Outside, Alec climbs into his car, tosses the Fire Breather into the trunk like it’s a gym bag, and heads straight for Militia Headquarters, leaving Jedite and Lori.
The moment he steps through the HQ front doors, chaos hits him like a wall. The waiting area is packed with criminals, gang members, militia officers, all talking over each other. A dozen Blue Angels sit at desks being interrogated. Only three Chrome members are present, looking like they regret every life choice that led them here.
Behind the waiting area: offices, to the right: restrooms and janitorial storage. Farther back is the deep interrogation room and the weapons‑and‑arms center. Below all that is the prisoner section, stretching underground like a bad memory.
Alec barely has time to take in the scene before a detective stands up, spots him, and grins like a wolf, “Well, look who decided to grace us with his pretty‑boy face! Good ole Sgt. Dallas!” He strides over, gets way too close, and whispers rapid‑fire into Alec’s ear, “Boy, you’re in deep shit. Word is you pitched the grenade that killed those two men. Now I think to myself, 'would that crazy bastard do that?' I think not. But you’ve got a lot of ass‑kissing to do when the lieutenant gets back. And I wouldn’t suggest leaving. So what happened?” He tries to sling an arm around Alec’s shoulder and steer him toward the interrogation room like they’re old drinking buddies.
Alec shrugs him off. “Yeah, you know me. I try to keep myself looking nice. Unlike your ugly dog‑shit face.”
The detective sputters. Alec continues, dead serious, “You’ll get the full report. But here’s the short version; I didn’t open fire. A Chrome threw the grenade. Missed me by a mile. Landed by those men. And I got the bastard back. Hacked his head off. Literally.”
The detective stops walking. Alec waits at the interrogation room door, then suddenly remembers. “Oh shit.” He hands over both of his Light Ion pistols like he’s returning borrowed tools. The detective stares at the weapons, then at Alec, then at the weapons again. Alec just smiles.
*******************************************************
Warren looks up at Jenna as the others head out. His voice is rough, still strained. “Jenna… what the hell happened to me? And where’s Lori?” He means their Lori, the Blue Angel who Jenna found dead outside of their gang base.
Alec’s apartment is quiet, dim, and unsettlingly well‑armed. Weapons line the walls in locked cases, more firepower than Jenna ever expected to see in one place. She sits beside Warren, keeping her tone steady. “I kept you alive,” she says. “I wasn’t about to let a friend die in front of me. I used my knowledge and pulled you back. Are you feeling okay?” Once he answers, she tells him everything about the Chrome, the firefight, and Lori’s fate. She’s careful, gentle, but honest.
Warren exhales. “Ahh… I didn’t like that bitch anyway.”
Lucas turns on him instantly, scowling. “Man, you’re a jackass. Jenna could’ve saved her instead of you. You were gone. She saved your life. Try being grateful for..."
“Alright! Shut the fuck up!” Warren snaps, then looks at Jenna, softer. “Thanks. I was just… trying to act tough. I just want to be seen as a normal member of the Angels.” He sinks into Alec’s plush couch. “So who are the others?”
Jenna leans back. “Alec... this is his place. He’s been with us since you got shot. Then there’s Lori… the woman on the horse. If Alec gets his way, he’ll end up ‘together’ with her. But we only met her today.”
“What about the other guy?” Warren asks.
Lucas answers, “Jedite. Something like that.”
Warren’s eyes widen. “Did you see his eyes? And his hair? Wicked cool shit.”
Jenna shakes her head. “Personally, I think he looks like a freak. He acts mysterious on purpose. I don’t trust him.”
Lucas shrugs. “Anyone who can jump fifty feet straight up is tough. Probably one of those wannabe juicer types.”
Warren stiffens. “Hey, I wouldn’t mess with a juicer. I’ve heard stories. Seen what they can do.”
“Whatever he is,” Jenna says, “he’s been decent toward us. Let’s not piss him off. Hopefully he’s not a juicer.”
Lucas nods. “Yeah. Let’s keep him friendly. Makes him a good ally. Wonder when they’re coming back.”
“I don’t know,” Jenna says quietly. “But hopefully soon. We need to figure out what we’re doing about the bodies… and the hideout."
”*******************************************************
Meanwhile, back at the Eagle Bar:
Lori settles in first, uncorking a good bottle of wine and deciding she’s not budging until she’s had at least a couple of glasses and shooing away hopeful wife-seekers. After a few savory glasses paying for the bottle, she tucks it into her belongings and makes a quick sweep through the markets, replenishing whatever supplies she burned through on the road to town. Only then does she head toward Alec’s place.
********************************************************
Elsewhere...
Meanwhile, Jedite has returned to his contact, Drake Biltonman. The two sit in Drake’s private office, if you can call it that, buried somewhere in the bowels of the Ishpeming underground. The place feels less like an office and more like a forgotten bunker with sweating pipes crowding the ceiling, fluorescent lights flicker in sickly intervals, and every shadow seems to breathe.
Jedite speaks low, as if the walls might be listening. “You’ll have to talk to Alec about training your troops. He’s got more experience with that than I do.” His eyes drift toward the trembling light overhead. “All I need from you is where the Chrome hole up. If you know where their main base is… that’d help. A lot.”
Drake doesn’t answer right away. He combs his fiery orange hair backwards, then scratches the stubble on his cheek. The pipes hiss. Something clanks in the dark beyond the doorway. And the silence stretches just a little too long. He looks up, and begins planning...
*******************************************************
Alec's Place:
By the time Lori steps back into the apartment, Jenna already has the L‑20 in hand, just in case. Lori’s horse is still tied outside like it owns the curb.
Lucas glances up. “So what’s the plan?”
Warren, loud as ever, blurts, “Wow, she’s not half bad! Kinda tall though…”
Lori gives him a glare sharp enough to shave metal, holds it for a couple seconds, then pointedly ignores him as she greets Jenna and Lucas instead, “I don’t know what the plan is,” she says, brushing dust off her sleeve. “They left on some errand and told me to come back here.”
Lucas throws his hands skyward like the universe has forsaken him. “Oh, perfect! Typical! Because we’re not gun‑toting, building‑leaping, mega‑powered superheroes like them, we get stuck babysitting his little armory.”
Warren leans back, eyes drifting up toward Lori with the subtlety of a foghorn. “So… where are you from?”
Lori doesn’t dignify him with an answer. She just fires a look that could curdle milk before turning her attention elsewhere.
Meanwhile, Jenna taps Lucas’s shoulder with the gentleness of someone about to make a very unreasonable request. “Sweetie, would you do me a favor and give me a shoulder massage? I really need one.” He stares at her, then at the armory, then at the ceiling as if hoping divine intervention might arrive and explain how his life became this, “Yeah, sure,” he mutters, still wincing from the burn on his ear. Jenna can’t tell if he’s hinting for sympathy or actually hurting.
Either way, he moves behind her on the couch and starts working his hands gently into her shoulders. The cool release of her muscles easing makes her exhale. “How’s this feel?” he asks.
Warren watches, smirking. “Aaaawww, isn’t that just cute?” His sarcasm practically drips onto the floor.
Jenna doesn’t even turn around. “Warren, shut up and pay attention. If you ever want to keep a girl happy, you better learn how to do this.” Lucas can feel her tense at Warren’s comment, but she forces herself to relax again. “It feels really good,” she tells Lucas, softer this time.
Warren’s smirk fades. “Well soooorry…” He slightly slumps, “It’s kinda hard to feel nice to anyone when nobody’s nice to me. The Blue Angels haven’t even accepted me. You two are the only ones who even give a damn. So why are you so nice?” His voice shifts. He exhibits no sarcasm, no bravado; just honesty.
Lucas keeps massaging, steady and calm. “Because we know what it’s like to feel like rejects, Warren. So it’s best to stick together.”
Jenna opens her eyes, glancing toward the door. “When are they coming back?” she asks again, avoiding the issue as tension creeping back into her shoulders.
With the discussion still simmering, Jedite steps into the apartment.
Lori stands off to the side, arms folded, watching the three like she’s trying to decide whether to intervene or pretend she’s not associated with any of them. Warren gawks at Jenna and Lucas, mostly Jenna, while Lucas continues giving her a careful, steady shoulder massage.
Jedite nods to the room, unfazed by the awkwardness, and holds out a small piece of metal to Jenna. “Drake says you can use this to find out where the Chrome are,” voice calm but carrying weight. “If you do… I owe you one.” He steps back, crosses his arms, and waits like he’s bracing for whatever strange energy this group is about to radiate next.
Jenna turns the metal over in her hands, analyzing every ridge and seam with the same focus she had while trying to relax under Lucas’s massage.
For a moment, everyone’s waiting to see what Jenna sees. Jedite nods towards her as he heads for the door. “If you figure anything out, I’ll be on the roof.” He leaves without waiting for a reply. A moment later, the sound of boots on metal stairs fades upward. Once outside, he strips off his armor and starts working out with fluid motions, sharp strikes, the bright flare of an energy blade cutting arcs through the air in a display of luminescent, circular, arial art.
Inside, Jenna closes her eyes, holding the metal fragment between both hands. The room quiets. Twenty long minutes pass with Lucas behind her; still massaging, Warren watching with wide eyes, Lori leaning against the wall pretending not to be curious. When Jenna finally opens her eyes, they’re almost glowing bright blue.
Lucas breaks the silence. “What was that all about?”
Jenna exhales, shaking off the last of the trance. “Just zoning out. Don’t worry.” She stands, brushing her hands off. “I’m going to talk to Jedite.”
She steps outside, catching glimpses of him through the rooftop shadows, with his black and silver‑lined clothing, muscles coiled, energy blades humming; he regularly switches from one form to another.
“Jedite?” she calls, climbing up. “Umm… they’re in a building. An apartment building, I think. Near the edge of town. And there’s a forest behind it.” She hands him, offering the metal, her eyes still faintly glowing.
*******************************************************
NG Militia HQ:
The head of the board gestures to the lone empty chair, “Have a seat, Staff Sgt. Dallas.”
Alec takes in the room, noticing every face stern, every posture stiff. More people are ushered in from the back, consisting of one restrained Chrome, two Blue Angels. oO( Such a lovely audience)Oo As spits on the Chrome as he walks by, “Fucken pig," and he drops into the chair with a casual slouch. “So, who do I owe the honor of sitting in front of this illustrious crowd today?” He flashes a smile that’s half charm, half challenge.
The audience exchanges indignant glances as the gray‑haired chairman doesn’t blink, “You’ve been accused of causing the deaths, accidental or not, of two of our men. This Chrome claims he saw you throw the grenade. What’s your side of the story?”
Alec folds his arms. “Well now. I’m driving along, minding my own business, when a gang war decides to explode around me. I get out to take cover... and maybe get a little action in. I drop two Chrome in a warehouse. They jumped out, shot a bum, so I shot them. After that, I see a Chrome toss a grenade. I dive out of the way. It lands by the two unfortunate compadres.” He shrugs, “I decapitated the bastard later. And if I may add a little common sense: Why the hell would I throw a grenade when I’ve got an over‑and‑under laser/grenade launcher? A Firebreather, in other words.”
The chairman steeples his fingers. “We also want to question the people you were with. Who are they? Two of them were Blue Angels.”
Alec leans back. “Sure. Coffee would do me good right now,” he waves a hand, “As for other people? No clue what you’re talking about. I was driving, gang war erupts, bullets rain down, I fire a few rounds, break a few things, and then you folks show up. I high‑tailed it out. And you SHOT my CAR!”
The chairman’s tone tightens. “Some city rats claim they saw you with three others. They say you saved their lives. Commendable! But it’s your word against theirs. Their stories match. We need to know what you were doing in the slums. What exactly happened?”
Alec sighs,, “Like I said. It was just me. I fired the shots. I killed those pricks in the alley and the street. Then your men arrived, a gang member threw a grenade at me, missed, killed the militia men, and I hacked his blasted head off! Fair enough?”
The chairman doesn’t flinch. “We can sidestep that. What about the two Blue Angels," he rifles through some notes, " Oh here it is... Jenna and Lucas, who were with you? Didn’t you save their lives when you took down the two Chrome? And then drive off with them?” Around the table, militia staff uncomfortably stare at their hands.
Alec raises his brows. “Jenna? Lucas? Never heard of them. Saved two people? Sure. Someone got shot. That’s why I got out. Then it started raining bullets. Yes, this version’s different, but it’s not important," he leans forward, “I didn’t give anyone a lift. I don’t know them. So you’re actually believing a deadbeat Chrome over me?”
The chairman shakes his head. “No. It wasn’t the Chrome. Militia members and several Blue Angels, including the two seated here, noticed. They know the people you picked up personally. What are you hiding, Sergeant?”
Alec’s smile returns, thin and sharp. “I’m not hiding anything, sir. And I’d like to know why I’m even here, considering the little job offer I got comes with a full pardon.”
The head of the board leans forward, hands folded, voice smooth. “Well, Sergeant, if you take the job, we can grant you a full pardon and a contract as one of our top men. How does that sound? Why pass up an offer like this?” There’s a smile on his face now, it seems too practiced, too ready. Alec can already tell they had this whole pitch rehearsed, “The contract,” the man continues, “would involve some of our hairiest assignments, like undercover work, assassination missions. Pay is negotiable, provided your performance is… satisfactory.”
Alec raises a finger. “Hold on.” He stands, strolls casually toward the restrained Chrome, gives him a friendly smile... then knocks him out cold with a overhand punch. The room jolts, but Alec just walks back and sits down like he stepped out for a glass of water, “Since you’re asking me to take on an entire gang,” he says, settling in, “I want a few things before I start. First, a down payment. And I know you’ve got some nifty toys in that armory.”
He ticks off his demands on his fingers.
“One: a Naruni Medium Forcefield, installed on my armor.
Two: the new Coalition Heavy Plasma Cannon.
And when the job’s done, sixty thousand more credits. Cheap, considering how badly that gang beat the hell out of a platoon of your militia.”
The board murmurs as the chairman clears his throat. “Dallas, we can't offer you the Naruni Forcefield and the cannon is unavailable... assigned to the northern operation. But we can offer you ninety thousand credits to seal the task, plus an agreement to take on at least one more mission. Rates negotiable when the time comes. Don't you already have one of those alien contraptions?”
Alec nods slowly, “Alright, deal! But the second mission is at my discretion. And you’re supplying all my ammo.” He looks around the room. “Now, where’re the keys so I can handpick a nice rifle?"
Looks of disbelief spread like a wave across his audience.
*******************************************************
Later that day:
Jedite addresses the room just after Alec returns, his tone flat and decisive. “I’m heading out to make the Chrome suffer. Whoever’s coming, let’s go. If you plan on waiting around… I’ll see if I can save you any.” Without another word, Jedite strides out of the apartment and takes off down the street, already moving faster than anyone should without bionics.
Jenna mutters loud enough for everyone to hear, “We might as well go. What else are we gonna do? Sit here?” She gets up and heads after him, determined to figure out what his actual plan is. Lori also follows, mostly because Jenna seems to know where she’s going.
Alec moves to his weapons safe with practiced efficiency. He pulls out his WI‑GL4 revolving grenade launcher and loads it with alternating armor‑piercing and frag grenades. He grabs a bandolier and clips and twenty‑four more grenades. Both light ion pistols are holstered. He reloads his 'Fire Breather', packs extra magazines and a reload set, then shoulders the weapon, and throws on his black leather trench coat. Afterwards, he runs after Jenna and Jedite. “Jedite! Slow down, man!”
“Jedite, do us all a favor and slow the hell down!” Jenna shouts, thoroughly annoyed. Unfortunately, he's already out of sight, sprinting up the street like a man possessed. Lucas bursts out of the apartment, leaving Warren behind. He manages to sprint past Jenna and Lori, catching up to Alec, “Uh, Warren says he’s staying behind to recuperate,” he manages between breaths. “I figured I could help.” as he matches Alec's pace, “Can I use one of those pistols? Mine are all back at our HQ.”
The group reaches the outskirts of Chrome territory. Jenna ducks behind bushes, houses, cars and anything that gives her a vantage point, trying to get a clear look of the situation as Lucas arrives. He shouts toward the rooftops, “Hey, Jedite! Jenna’s the one we should be following! She knows what to look for! I think!”
Alec sneaks up next to them, tapping Lucas with his index finger over his lips, shushing him. He hands Lucas a pistol... safety on with no round chambered.
Lucas slips the pistol into his leather jacket, grinning. “Hey! cool. Thanks, man," he then asks Jenna, “Is this it?”
Jenna glances back and then nods forward, “Yeah… looks like it.” Her eyes sweep the area, searching for any sign of movement. “So what’s the plan, guys?”
Alec adjusts his gear, admiring the weight of the Fire Breather settling against his back. “We kick some serious ass,” he says, matter‑of‑fact, as if it’s the only plan that ever existed. His visor flickers as the thermal scan completes. Multiple heat signatures glow from the tents, scattered just outside the city limits, clustered, active and definitely occupied. Beyond that, the landscape is cold. No other humanoid signatures. No movement. Just the tents. Alec lowers the launcher slightly, eyes narrowing. “Looks like there are people in all the tents,” he says to Jenna. “Are you sure this is it?” He shifts his grip on the grenade launcher, settling the weapon into ready position as the silence grows heavier.
Lori arrives analyzing the group. Her eyes narrow as she focuses on Jenna and Lucas, “Are either of you actually wearing armor?” She steps closer, already anticipating the answer. “If not, or if it’s just light stuff, I can cast something on you. It’s not much, and it’ll only last a minute, but it’s better than nothing.”
They both nod enthusiastically for her offer of help.
She smiles, nodding, then readies several combat spells and then focuses, waving several fingers around and speaking in some strange arcane language. Seconds later, both gangers are surrounded by a faint, rippling shimmer; like an invisible field settling around them as a second skin.
They both feel it immediately; a strange, cool pressure, like standing inside a protective bubble. Jenna exhales, rubbing her forehead as her breath splashes back at her, “Well, it looks like we’re at the wrong place,” her voice carries a frustrated edge. “Figures. I’m not exactly great at finding things.”
She suspiciously eyes the horizon, tension tightening her shoulders. “We better go find the right place.”
******************************************************
Rooftops:
Jedite scans the area from his rooftop perch, every detail sharpening under the weight of instinct. A cluster of vehicles sits in the junkyard below, but it's too clean, too organized. They don’t belong. Across the road from the junkyard, a rundown supermarket sits, but not abandoned; its faded sign is defaced with circle of fresh silver chrome spray‑paint, the Chrome insignia gleaming like a warning.
He turns his attention back to the junkyard. Smoke curls from a small shack buried among scattered, dragged‑in vehicles. Shadows move inside, but too many for a simple hideout.
Next to the supermarket, some apartments look inhabited, vehicles neatly parked in the crumbling parking lot. The street's also cracked and neglected as a forest looms behind everything, dark and watchful.
Between Jedite’s building, which is an abandoned, vandalized and defunct power station, and the junkyard, a narrow alley runs like a vein of darkness. Across the two‑lane road, the supermarket sprawls across half a block. Its scratched plexiglass doors barely hold together. Figures drift along the torn‑up terrain behind it on excavated land, leveled but never built on. A perfect place to disappear.
Jedite moves. He swiftly scampers toward the supermarket, silent as a shadow. When he finds no easy entry, he leaps thirty feet straight up, landing on the roof with barely a sound. He draws an energy blade, its hum slicing through the quiet, and carves a hole through the concrete. Debris crashes onto a catwalk below.
“What the hell!” someone shouts. Footsteps thunder.
Jedite steps back from the hole, then cuts a second one beneath himself. As he and a concrete slab drop, he grabs the ledge to slow his descent, letting the slab and rubble rain down ahead of him. He releases, ignites his second blade, and lands in a crouch... ready.
Two men in silver streaked leather stare at him, shocked, hands diving for weapons. A third is still gawking at the ceiling. Jedite stands on a narrow catwalk above crates filled with cybernetic implants and weapons. His awareness spikes, signifying intense danger close by.
A laser shot cracks upward from between crates, missing him by inches and punching a hole clean through the roof. He reacts instantly by shoving the two nearest men off the catwalk in a burst of telekinetic force. They hit the concrete hard, gasping. The 'sniper' fires again, missing and blowing apart a crate of weapons.
“Fuck… this must be Gruber’s friend…” one of the fallen men wheezes.
Jedite’s voice is cold. “Give up, and you live long enough to talk.”
Two men sit where they fell, hands raised. The third freezes mid‑reach, surrendering. But a fourth man, hidden until now, holds his ground. “I have a clear shot at you,” he warns. “I suggest you give up.”
Jedite laughs as he flicks his hand. The man’s weapon rips free, flying into Jedite’s grasp. The man stands, defeated, hands up. “Fucking d-bee,” he mutters. “What do you want with us?”
Jedite motions them together, blades still lit, eyes sharp. “Which of these surrounding buildings do you Chrome use?” Yet, the room holds its breath. The men, mostly older teenagers and young adults, gather in a loose semicircle in front of Jedite. Their faces are tense, eyes darting between him and the surrounding crates.
“We use this place,” says the one who lost his rifle, “Why do you think we’re all here? You’re in for a big surprise when you find out more about us. It ain’t gonna be pretty. Don’t ask me what’s going on, but I do know this. The Chrome are up to something big. I just don’t know what.”
Jedite’s expression doesn’t change. “Maybe I should make myself a little more clear,” he lashes out with a telekinetic strike, fast and precise, catching the speaker across the mouth, temple, and nose, staggering him. Jedite steps forward, blades humming softly. “Where are the other Chrome right now?”
The room goes still. No one breathes.
Jedite faces the other three, energy blades humming faintly at his sides. The young men watch, wide‑eyed, shaken, like prey waiting for the next move, “Well, boys,” he says, voice calm in a way that makes it worse, “if you want to keep living, then I suggest you run. Fast.” He steps forward, gaze sweeping across them, “If you’re out of sight within ten seconds, I won’t kill you. And if I were you, I’d leave the whole area. Because from this point on… any Chrome I see is done.”
He beings counting, slow and deliberate.
“One…
Two…
Three…
Four…”
The captives don’t wait for five.
"I plan to live forever. Or die trying..." Vila - Blakes 7
I&C - Chapter 1 - City of Smoke and Steel - Part 2
Chris Valee and Gruber Chekolovski:
Chris answers the video chat sharply, his voice low. “No, sir. I just don’t appreciate people killing innocents, especially kids. I’m on my way to get him.” He loads his gear into the hovercraft, engines humming beneath the metal floor, then hovers away, blowing litter into the air.
Minutes later, he’s parked a block away from Alec Dallas’s apartment. He hides his JA‑11, a popular juicer assassin rifle, inside the craft, taking only his pistol, juicer plate, vibro‑sword, and two knives. His eyes scan the building, searching for any stealth entry point.
“How old is this kid?” Chris mutters. “And what exactly do you want done with him?” He pauses, jaw tightening. “If the plan is to kill him, forget it. I’m not kidnapping a kid for you. You’ll have to do that yourself. Otherwise, tell me where Alec Dallas’s apartment is, what defenses he has, and I’ll need this hovercraft to bring the kid to you.”
Gruber’s voice crackles through his wrist vidcom. “No, I don’t plan to kill the kid. But I do plan to eliminate this new group of freedom fighters. I can let you have the hovercraft. I don’t know how old the kid is. Alec Dallas’s apartment is on 50th Street, unit 2100. You’re not getting soft on me, are you, soldier?”
Chris arrived in Ishpeming seeking Gruber Chekolovski, a Coalition special operative out of Chi‑Town, current leader of the Chrome city-rat gang, and a man with a long list of targets, an example being ex‑Coalition troops like former SAMAS pilot Lt. Jack Marshal. Whom, Chris had helped eliminate. And now the Blue Angels gang, who allow D‑Bee “vermin” into their ranks. And Northern Gun itself, whose weapons production he intends to sabotage to force a treaty with the Coalition States. Chris believes Gruber's plan is to slow down, if not sabotage, their operations.
Gruber arrives. Chris immediately sees that Gruber is also a juicer; a tall, six foot, blond buzzcut haired, Triax‑born soldier, sworn to the Coalition. He has a new problem: the Blue Angels have new allies, dangerous ones.
Gruber explains, tension simmering beneath his words, “The Blue Angels picked up new help. Five of them, at least. One’s an ex‑NG militia sergeant, Alec Dallas. Another’s a female rat, named Jenna. The other two rats are Lucas and some young boy. There’s also a tall woman, six feet tall at least, seen with them. Maybe more. We’re not sure.” He continues, voice dropping, “I had my boys follow Alec from the militia base to his home. Five of his people left. One stayed inside. I want you to capture the kid and bring him to me alive. There’s also a sixth individual with black and silver armor. We know almost nothing about him. We aren't even sure if he's affiliated.”
Gruber meets Chris’s eyes. “Can you do that for me?”
Chris studies the two‑story duplex from across the street, taking in every angle, every shadow. The stealthiest entry point looks simple enough: A person could slip up the exterior steps and quietly pick the lock. No theatrics. No noise.
He nods to Gruber and sets off. He ascends the stairs with controlled, silent steps. He tries the door first, just in case Alec left it unlocked. It's locked... He then works the lock with quiet precision, but the tumblers refuse to budge. After a few more careful attempts, he exhales sharply and kicks the door in.
The apartment bursts open, and inside, on a couch surrounded by weapons mounted on walls and stacked in safes, a kid in his late teens with dirty blond hair stares at him in horror. “Oh shit!” he yelps. “A juicer! No, no, don’t kill me! Don’t kill me!” He curls into a tight fetal ball, shaking.
Chris levels his rifle at him, “Come with me now and you won’t be hurt. Don’t try to escape and you won’t be hurt. Don’t call for help and you won’t be hurt.” He pauses, voice dropping. “Resist even a little… and you will be hurt.” as he grabs the kid by the right arm, not gentle, not cruel, just firm, and pulls him to his feet. He stumbles along, too terrified to fight back.
Chris leads out to the hovercraft. Shock keeps him compliant; he just goes with it, breathless and confused. He shoves him into the hovercraft, jumps in after him, and fires up the engines. It levitates and then rockets away from the building. Warren clings to the seat, voice shaking. “So… what are you gonna do with me? You work for the Chromes, don’t you?”
Chris keeps the hovercraft at high speed, Warren clutching the seat as the city blurs past. “Chrome?” he says, glancing over. “Never heard of ’em. If you want to talk, why don’t you tell me about your friends?”
Warren swallows, “Okay… but why do you want me? You know about me, don’t you? My friends? I don’t really have friends. The people I was with just left me there. They don’t like me,” he hesitates, then laughs, “If you’re looking for them, you’re too late. They’re demolishing your base.”
Chris snorts. “Base? I’m new in town. How could I have a base?” He keeps his eyes forward. “And if they’re not your friends, why’d they let you stay in the apartment? Why not throw you out?”
Warren shrugs, defeated. “I guess they just tolerate me being around. So what do you want with me? What’s so special about my ‘friends’?” The hovercraft clears the last row of buildings, heading toward the outskirts where Gruber waits.
Gruber stands with two psi‑stalkers and four Dog Boys at his side. In the distance, Chris spots the silhouettes of two SAMAS suits, standing motionless, waiting for orders. Chris slows the hovercraft and brings it to a stop near Gruber. He turns to the kid. “This person wants to talk to you. So I brought you to him. Get out.”
Warren climbs out, nervous and unsure. Chris steps out after him and faces Gruber. “Here’s the kid you asked me to pick up.”
Gruber points to a patch of dirt near his boots. “Alright, kid. Sit here.” Warren obeys, moving slowly, nervous and pale. He settles onto the ground, arms wrapped around his knees.
“Now we wait for the others,” Gruber adds.
Chris reaches back into the hovercraft, grabbing his gear. He keeps the JA‑11 rifle in hand, long clip locked in place. “Others?” he mutters, then walks over to Gruber. “So I guess that’s why there’s a little welcome party here.”
Gruber doesn’t look at him. “Yeah. This is it,” his eyes fixed on the distant city skyline. Chris follows his gaze, scanning for movement. He waits, patient but tense.
Gruber whispers something into his radio, too quiet to catch, then smirks with a knowing smile. A moment later, a Chrome soldier emerges from behind the SAMAS suits, clad in dead‑boy armor and carrying an NG‑P7 particle beam rifle. He takes position beside Warren, standing guard.
Warren mutters under his breath, barely audible. “Dumb son of a bitch…”
Gruber motions for Chris to follow and starts walking toward the SAMAS units. Chris falls in behind him, rifle ready, every instinct on alert. He doesn’t like the setup. Not at all.
A skelebot approaches from the distance, metal joints clacking as it escorts another Blue Angels gang member. It stops in front of Gruber and Chris, “This is Bruce Wolfstein,” it announces in a deep, monotone, robotic voice.
Bruce is marched past them to them as Gruber gestures toward the spot where Warren and the Chrome guard stand. “Take him down to the other scum‑child.”
Bruce, with blond hair, brown eyes, six feet tall and average build, is pushed into kneeling position beside Warren. Compared to them, Chris and Gruber look massive; both muscular in light armor, carrying juicer assassin rifles.
Bruce leans toward Warren. “So what the hell is going on, man? What do they want from us?”
Warren keeps his voice low. “I wanted to join the Blue Angels. But the gang wars started again and my friends are what they want. We’re just bait to get them here. And when they do get here… we’re dead. You get what I mean?”
Bruce nods grimly. “Yeah. I get it. We’re all screwed if we can’t warn them.”
Chris watches the skelebot pass, muttering under his breath, “Skelebot… I hate these things.” He turns to Gruber. “So what do we do now, sir?”
Gruber’s voice drops into a low, cold explanation. “Well… as soon as the rebels arrive, we kill half of them and make a proposition to the remaining. The obvious ones to die are the magic and mind‑users. Don’t let them fool you, Chris. They’re powerful and they can make you believe what you’re doing is wrong.”
Chris nods once. “Okay.” He checks each weapon again... just to be sure. Then he scans the area for a good vantage point; somewhere with a clean angle and solid cover. He finds it, trots off and settles in.
Around him, Gruber and the rest of the Chrome forces melt into the tree line, taking cover. Only a skelebot and the six Chrome soldiers remain out in the open with Warren and Bruce. The SAM units disappear into the trees.
Chris forces himself to stay patient, rifle steady, eyes fixed on the approach route. Wrist vidcom on and ready to coordinate... The surprise party is about to begin.
*******************************************************
Jedite moves up the narrow, crate‑lined hallway, passing a cutting table cluttered with half‑finished engine parts. The corridor bends right. Along the right‑hand wall, a wooden staircase climbs upward, faint light spilling down from above. To the left, a pair of grimy restroom doors - Boys and Girls - sit beside a rack of engine parts and two old telephones mounted on the wall.
Straight ahead, a set of filthy swinging double doors leads into the supermarket area. Beside each door hangs a transceiver unit, tuned to pick up militia radio and police scanner broadcasts.
The supermarket interior has been gutted and repurposed into rows of lockers and storage cages that replaced the original aisles and shelves. Every locker is shut tight. The place feels abandoned, but not empty.
Then Jedite hears whispers drift down from the staircase above. “…someone here?… what does he want with… okay, sir… of it…” The voices cut off. A quick shuffle of movement follows, like someone repositioning, preparing.
His patience snaps. He ignites both laser blades, their hum filling the hallway with a low, dangerous vibration. With a flick of his hand, he unleashes a telekinetic burst upward, ripping chunks of ceiling apart directly beneath where he heard the voices. Dust and debris rain down.
He doesn’t wait to see who scatters. Jedite turns, strides toward the exit, and steps out of the building. His blades flare brighter as he raises them against the exterior wall. oO(If the Chrome won’t come out, then I'll make them)Oo He begins carving into the building itself, loud, deliberate, impossible to ignore. The shriek of searing metal and collapsing wall echoes across the block. That should draw those shiny bastards out.
And lead the others straight to him as he hears a thunderous boom from inside.
*******************************************************
Alec, Jenna, Lori and Lucas:
Jenna leads the team down a narrow street that opens into a worn‑down city block. An old supermarket dominates the area, its cracked parking lot stretching around all sides. Apartment complexes flank it on the left and an abandoned power station on the right. Across from the market sits a dump ground, full of rusted metal, collapsed sheds, and a few rundown buildings leaning against the fence line.
A handful of decent vehicles sit near the apartments... maybe five total. No tents. No vagrants. No signs of casual life. Just silence. Alec activates another thermal scan, “Is this it?” he asks Jenna. His visor lights up. Four heat signatures sprint toward the forest behind the supermarket, disappearing into the trees. A few more figures move through the dump ground, but the rubble makes it impossible to tell if they’re human.
“Yeah… this is it,” she replies, scanning the area with growing unease. “Umm… where’s Jedite?” No one knows...
Alec moves toward the dump ground, moving slow and quietly. He closes in on the heat signatures, humanoid shapes definitely. He lifts his visor for a clearer look. Inside a small shack, likely the old junkyard office, three young men sit around a table playing cards. Alec knows there must be more inside oO(No one plays cards with only three people in a place like this)Oo He creeps closer, slipping behind a rusted car frame. From this angle, he sees six individuals inside, early twenties, ganger types. The shack looks like a crack house, with bottles, trash, smoke, and the stale smell of chemicals.
Alec’s voice drops into a deep, controlled tone as his thumb flips a switch on his belt, his forcefield begins humming, “Hey, assholes. Yeah… you ugly bastards. Where’s your boss?” He stays hidden behind the car, grenade launcher aimed at the shack.
The men freeze mid‑game, turning toward the sound. Most are half‑wasted from booze. One slumps back in his chair and laughs. “Screw you, you fruitcake! We’re our own bosses, jackass.”
Another shouts, “What are you, a cop? Militia?” then laughs.
Alec keeps his voice steady. “Just wondering. I’m looking to join you Chromes.”
“Oh yeah?” one sneers, finally catching a glimpse of Alec, “Why would the Chrome want you? You look dangerous with those toy guns.” The group erupts into sloppy laughter. “So what makes you want to join the Chrome?” the same man asks.
Alec grins through the car frame. “Because I have a taste for carnage. And I’ve got something no one else can offer… a Glitter Boy.”
The laughter stops.
“Show us where it is,” one says, “and maybe we’ll take you to the Chrome. Or you could join us instead.”
“I want to know where the Chrome are,” Alec replies. “You take me to them, then we talk.”
One man burps up stale beer, then swallows it and staggers toward Alec’s hiding spot. “You really wanna find the Chrome, don’t you? Why?” His words slur together, “They wouldn’t buy a Glitter Boy off you. Maybe trade or take it from you.” as he waves a finger at Alec. “Put yer pea shooter away. What would you trade them for? We might have better.”
“I doubt that,” Alec says. “Just take me to them. If their offer doesn’t impress me, I’ll come back after you sober up.”
Another man points lazily toward the supermarket. “Just go over there. They’re always heading into that place. Why the hell would you look in the dumps?”
Alec nods once, ignoring the question, realizing the guy is right, “Well then… maybe we’ll meet again,” and slips away from the shack, heading to the supermarket. Once there, he initiates another thermal scan, sweeping the interior for movement.
Afterwards, he slips back to the group, visor dimming as he approaches. “Lucas,” he loudly whispers, “I think you should head back to my apartment. These guys look serious. And if they go after Warren again… you might be able to stop them.”
Lucas hesitates, then nods. “Okay… if you insist.” He turns to Jenna. “Take care of yourself. I know you can.” He leans in, gives her a quick kiss, then jogs off toward Alec’s apartment.
Alec nods to the girls, then returns to the supermarket, moving low and silent until he’s close enough to peer through one of the grimy, translucent windows. Inside, silhouettes move through the darkness, numerous figures shifting between aisles. A faint fire alarm bleeds through the walls, barely audible. The interior lights are off, but a few dim glows flicker near the back of the store, high above eye level.
The aisles have been rebuilt into storage rows with lockers, crates, metal cages. No food anywhere. The figures inside are armored, their chrome plating catching what little light exists.
Alec backs up fifty feet, and raises his grenade launcher. He fires. The grenade hits the glass with a thunderous crack, blowing out the window and sending a shockwave through the supermarket. Alec sprints forward through the smoke and debris. “Knock, knock!” he shouts as he climbs through the shattered frame.
He fires two more grenades toward a dense cluster of Chrome, hiding behind crates. The explosions ripple through the interior, rattling lockers and sending figures scattering for cover. Smoke floods the aisles, reflecting daylight from outside and blinding Alec’s night vision.
He switches to thermal-optics. The world snaps into heat‑shapes of humanoid forms scrambling behind metal barriers. Alec fires another grenade. The scattering figures get met with laser bursts from his Firebreather, each burst illuminating the haze.
He sees the back of the warehouse collapse, with metal folding inward and dust erupting into the air. The sound is enough to send every Chrome from the rear section, and those near Alec’s position, charging straight toward him in a chaotic blitz of automatic weapons cracking and lasers lancing toward him.
He counts fast, three dozen, maybe more. Half armored, half carrying high‑energy weapons. All of them coming for him. “Damnit!” Alec mutters as he fires a laser burst into the oncoming wave, then glances up, “Well… worth a try.” and launches two grenades into the ceiling above the charging swarm.
The explosion rocks entire building. He continues to spray lasers into the crowd, dropping a few as several shots slam into his force field, draining the battery. He fires two more grenades straight upward as he leaps back. Heavy debris rains down, swallowing the rush of attackers in a cloud of dust and falling metal.
He kills his thermal optics - the heat bloom is too bright to see through. Then, without warning, two laser blades, floating and spinning, slice around the corner ahead of him, carving parallel lines down the wall. A three‑foot‑wide gap opens a section of wall folds inward under its own weight.
Jedite steps through the dust, expertly catching both blades out of the air. The walls finish collapsing behind him. The building continues collapsing into a gigantic heap of twisted metal, smoke and dust.
Only six Chrome make it out of the wreckage, stumbling through the haze. Alec waits, then switches thermal optics back on. All six flare into view. He launches two grenades at them.
As the Chrome dive for whatever meager cover they can find, Jedite telekinetically bursts them back into the blast, making himself public enemy number one.
*******************************************************
Meanwhile, back at their hiding place, Lori finishes casting armor spells on everyone, reminding Jenna again that it’s weak and short‑lived. Suddenly, Chrome spill out of the now collapsing building, She hurls a glowing net toward the nearest group as she ducks behind cover, grabs the L-20 and commences a hail of suppressing fire.
Jenna focuses on one of the six Chromes. She hits him with Bio‑Manipulation of the eyes, blinding him instantly. As he staggers, she steps closer, laser pistol raised, and fires three controlled shots, targeting for head, neck, chest.
*******************************************************
Blue Angels HQ:
Elsewhere, Drake turns and looks back at Nicklous, his expression unreadable. “They will be of great help to you. Go now, and I will reward you greatly. If you fail… I can't help you.”
Nick hesitates, “So where does this address take me? And how do I get there? I’d like to know before I wander the streets with no clue what’s going on.”
“That is Alec Dallas’s apartment,” Drake replies. “Someone should be there to help you find the rest. If not, wait for them. Have them contact me if they have questions.” He taps the paper in Nick’s hand. “Go now. His apartment number is on there.”
Later...
Nick reaches Alec Dallas’s apartment just in time to see a hovercraft tearing away from the curb, engines whining as it disappears down the street. The sudden motion puts him on alert. oO(Someone left in a hurry)Oo
He climbs the exterior steps and finds the apartment door kicked in, splintered around the lock. Inside, the place is empty; No voices or movement. Just silence and the faint smell of ozone from recently handled weapons. The interior looks less like a home and more like a personal armory. Safes line the walls, some stacked two high. Weapons hang mounted in neat rows, well organized, maintained and ready. On the couch sits an L‑20 pulse rifle, left out as if someone had been cleaning it or preparing it for use.
Despite the arsenal, the apartment itself feels strangely comfortable and lived‑in, functional, like a soldier’s den. But whoever was here is gone, and Nick is left standing in the wrecked doorway, trying to piece together what happened. He grabs the L-20 and leaves toward his hovercycle, only to freeze when he hears someone calling his name.
He turns, scanning the street. A figure jogs toward him, wearing Blue Angels colors. Nick recognizes Lucas, one of the better‑known members of the gang. He stops in front of him, breathing hard. “Hey, what are you doing here? Who sent you? Have you seen Warren? Kid, about five‑eight, mouthy as hell.”
Nick shakes his head. “Drake sent me. And no, I haven’t seen Warren. Why?”
Lucas’s eyes narrow. “Then why are you carrying the L‑20 pulse rifle we left for him?”
Nick defensively shrugs. “Hey, I didn’t know it was his. I just needed some extra firepower, so I took it. If he needs it more than I do, I’ll put it back and buy myself a new gun.”
Lucas folds his arms. “So Drake sent you, huh? What are you supposed to do for us? What can you do?”
Nick remembers the wrecked state of Alec’s apartment and bristles. “Why are you asking so many questions? You looking for trouble? I’ll break you in half. And for your question... what I’m supposed to do is kick Chrome ass. But if you don’t stop bugging me, I’ll kick yours. And you might want to check your friend’s apartment, because it’s trashed.”
He turns and starts walking toward his bike. Lucas watches him, thinking. “Hmm… well, I guess you can help us. You’ve got the right mentality.” His expression shifts to worry. “How bad was the damage? Shit! Warren’s in trouble. You said you’d help, right?”
Nick sits on his hovercycle, engine rumbling beneath him. “Yeah, they messed that place up pretty bad. But then again, he might like it like that.” He glances back at Lucas. “So where could Warren be? You name the place, and we’ll go.” Nick revs the engine and rolls the bike closer to Lucas, ready to move.
“Up the street, then left a few blocks. We’ve gotta get to the edge of the city. That’s where everyone is.”
Lucas nods without hesitation. “No problem. Hop on the back.” He swings onto the hovercycle and adds, “And you better hang on tight. If you fall off, it’s not my fault.” Nick smirks, climbs on behind him, gripping the frame as Lucas guns the engine. The hovercycle rockets forward, tearing down the street at top speed as they head toward the city’s edge.
*******************************************************
Meanwhile...
Shrapnel whips past the Alec, Jedite and the girls as Nick and Lucas arrive, hovercycle sliding to a stop. Lucas jumps off, eyes wide. All but one Chrome lie dead, the last survivor sprinting away in panic. The grenade blasts, along with Lori and Jenna’s cover fire, have left the battlefield scattered with ruined armor and debris.
Lucas holds up the L‑20 pulse rifle. “Wait! This isn’t all of them! They have Warren!” He looks at Nick; a tall, light‑haired, muscular Blue Angel. “Tell them what you saw, man.” Then back to Alec. “They trashed your apartment.”
Alec’s jaw tightens. “Well… if this isn’t all of them, then where are the others?”
Lucas shakes his head, frustration tightening his voice. “I don’t know. All I do know is they’re the only ones with a grudge against us. So yeah, I think they’re the ones who’d pull something like this.”
Nick adjusts the grip on his weapon. “Yeah, they trashed the place. You’ll have to renovate the whole thing just to get it looking like it did before.” He glances at the battlefield. “And as for Warren? I have no idea where he is. So we have to assume they grabbed him. If we kill all of them, we’ll never find him. But we can kill all but one and get the info we need.”
Alec raises a hand. “Hold on. No one knows where I live. So how could they have found him? Unless…” A puzzled frown crosses his face, “Unless… you?”
Before anyone can answer, Jedite somehow lands in front of the escaping Chrome, dismembering him with six quick strikes.
“Well… let’s go find our lost... stolen friend," She turns away from the violent display and starts walking toward Alec’s apartment.
Nick calls after her. “Wait! Do you want a lift back to the apartment?” He climbs onto his hovercycle, ready to go. Lucas scowls at the offer. Nick notices and shrugs, then nods to Lori instead. “You want a ride back?” Lori shrugs, joining Lucas and Jenna as they happily walk hand in hand.
Lucas gazes ahead, “Maybe we should hurry. Warren’s most likely in trouble.”
Nick, frustrated, sensing them waste time, pulls up beside her again. “So, Jenna, still need a ride back to the apartment? It’s a lot faster.”
“Yeah. Might as well, since we should ‘hurry.’” Jenna climbs on.
Alec lingers for a moment, thinking, then catches up. Halfway back, he breaks off onto an alternate route, circling around so he can check for an ambush before approaching his apartment.
Just moments after Alec reaches the steps of his apartment, Jenna and Nick arrive on the hovercycle. Jedite stands near his apartment door, watching the area in silent vigilance. Lori and Lucas appear several blocks up the street. Lucas' jogging at a steady pace, annoyed.
“Okay,” Jenna climbs off the bike, “What are we doing now? Clues? If there even are any, I hope we find something.”
Alec steps up to the smashed doorway where Jedite waits. He activates a thermal scan, sweeping the area. “So, Jedite… looks like we got ourselves into a little pickle, eh? How do you suppose they found my place?”
Jedite shrugs.
Nick kicks down the hovercycle’s stand and dismounts. “So where do we want to start looking for clues?”
Jenna looks around. “Well, I think we should split up. Some check the apartment, the rest check outside for anything left behind. Sound good?” and walks off to investigate, “I’ll check out here. Anyone care to join me?”
Nick follows, “I’ll help you look around out here.” Lucas glares.
“Alright,” Once he catches up, she begins scanning the ground, the building walls, the trees and anything that might hold a clue. Nick does the same, searching for anything unusual: markings, dropped e‑clips, clothing, armor fragments or anything useful. But there’s nothing. Just candy wrappers. No sign of who came or what happened.
Nick calls out, “Hey! I’m going to check the roof. Maybe something’s up there.” He walks to his bike, starts it, presses a button, causing it to begin hovering. Lori finally catches up as Alec reaches his front door, which is smashed inward, frame splintered. A hand‑recorder hangs from the broken door, tape still inside. Alec sweeps the apartment quickly, yet finds no ambushers hiding anywhere. He presses play.
Static crackles as Alec scans the room, but nothing unusual except the couch where Warren was last seen.
A strong male voice, with an odd accent, comes through the recorder, “Good evening, Mr. Dallas. This is your friendly Chrome leader. I see you didn’t take our offer. We have your friend... and one other. In return for the two d-bee scum I have here, you will meet me for negotiations at the edge of town. Southwestern side. It shouldn’t be hard to find us. Now I have the job for you.”
Alec checks drawers, under the bed, then moves to the kitchen.
The recording continues, “Just for reassurance that you arrive... because you may be like me and not care about my d-bee prisoners, but I want you to know this recording released an electronic signal three seconds ago…”
Alec opens the cupboard under the sink.
“You now have five seconds to vacate your apartment alive! Bahahaha!”
He sees them immediately... Five fusion blocks bolted to the pipes, the sink belly, the cupboard walls.
“SHIT!” Alec sprints for the door and dives into the hallway. The fusion blocks detonate. Concrete, glass, water, and cinder erupt outward, showering everyone outside who was searching for clues. Alec gets to his feet, dusts himself off, and storms toward his car. “Now it’s personal!” He jumps in, slams the door, and peels out toward the meeting place.
Lucas stares at the smoking ruin. “What the hell! What’s going on now?”
Jedite had narrowly avoided the explosion by sheer luck. He'd walked down to talk to the others when the blast occurred. Now, he watches Alec tear off down the street, Nick immediately gunning his hovercycle to chase after him. Without hesitation, Jedite jumps onto his own hovercycle and joins the growing convoy. He pushes the engine hard, doing everything he can to catch up and stay with them.
Alec drives faster and faster, recklessly weaving through the streets as he heads toward the edge of town. His speed climbs with every block, anger fueling every turn. A few blocks from the destination, he finally slows down, coming to a stop to let the others catch up.
*******************************************
Alec's former Apartment: (52nd St)
Lucas leans against the wall of the building across from Alec’s ruined apartment. His voice cracks. “Man… this sucks. Warren’s captured. We could’ve died in that apartment…” He looks up at Lori and Jenna, eyes tired, “Well, let’s walk, I guess,” he continues, “It’ll probably take us twenty minutes to get to where they’re going. I say the three of us stick together, just in case…” He slowly slips an arm around Jenna’s shoulders. “Shall we go?”
“Yeah, let’s go.” Jenna wraps her arm around his waist, joining him.
Lucas glances at Lori. “Hey, what’s wrong? You’ve been quiet lately…” Jedite, Nick, and Alec are already far up the street, their vehicles shrinking into the distance. It looks like they’re slowing down near the edge of the city.
Lori answers calmly. “Simply observing. Perhaps you two should swing by your gang’s base to pick up your armor and such.”
The three continue walking to the city’s edge. Jedite, Alec, and Nick are long gone. The last glimpse of them was turning left at the outskirts. “Oh my, they’re way long gone now… hope they don’t find trouble,” Jenna says. “But hey! If they do, we’ll know ahead of time if we see it. Yeah, I think we should go get our armor. We’ll need it. I have a feeling something might happen.”
Lucas nods. “Agreed.”
“So, Lori,” Jenna asks as they walk, “Where do you come from again? And how did you end up here?” she hesitates, then adds, “I’m just curious. I’ve never really had much of a family… had to live on the streets. Now I’m finally happy with what I have because I actually have someone here for me.” Jenna holds Lucas close.
Lori brushes a strand of hair behind her ear as she speaks, revealing her pointed elven ear, “My parents came here through a rift. From what they’ve told me, their world was more magic than tech... pretty low‑tech, actually. They and their retinues ended up here and built a village in the forests west of Ishpeming. Once they realized they couldn’t go back, they started pairing off… and that’s where I come in.”
She walks steadily beside Jenna and Lucas. “We farm, hunt and trade with Northern Gun. That’s how we got high‑tech weapons and armor. But I got bored with rustic life. And once I started mastering my magic, I decided to explore.”
Lucas nods thoughtfully. “Well, I joined the gangs to protect myself and to have friends I can trust. Jenna still has her secrets, but I trust her with my life.” He glances at Lori. “So you’re a mage? That’s dangerous this close to Coalition territory.”
“I don’t walk around with a sign saying ‘Hey, I’m a mage,’” Lori replies dryly. “And I’m not planning to enter CS territory, especially with these ears. Besides, it was obvious I had major magic potential. Might as well learn to use it.”
Lucas frowns. “They have psi‑stalkers around.”
“Even without training,” Lori says, “I’d still have more magical energy than most people. I’d still be a target for stalkers.”
The trio reaches the Blue Angels’ warehouse. The earlier carnage is faint now, just scars on the building. Drake stands outside, overseeing reconstruction of stronger defenses. He looks up as Jenna, Lucas, and Lori approach, “Good to see you three. Here for your things? I heard about the Chrome’s base. Good job," he grins.
“Thanks,” Jenna replies. “Yeah, we’re here to pick up our stuff and then go find Warren. He’s disappeared, so we’re heading out to see if he’s still alive.”
Drake’s expression tightens, concern flickering across his face. He folds his arms, frowning. “Alright… any ideas what happened to him?” He flashes four fingers to one of the Blue Angels behind him. Instantly, they sprint back into the warehouse like they’ve trained for this moment their whole lives. Seconds later, Jenna and Lucas’s gear is hauled out and dropped in front of them, ready to go.
Lucas hops onto his bike, revving the engine, like he’s announcing his presence to the entire neighborhood, and grins. “Alright! Let’s rock!”
“We don’t know,” Jenna says, climbing onto her bike. “That’s what we’re going to find out," as she fires up the engine, “We ride!” As she takes off down the same path they came from, heading toward the turnoff where they last saw Warren. Lori follows on her horse, hoping and praying that at least one of them knows where they’re going.
Lucas roars up beside Jenna. “So, Jenna, what’s the plan when we get there?”
“First thing is figuring out what’s actually happening,” Jenna calls back over the wind, “I don’t want to rush into anything. It might be dangerous. All we want is Warren, so let’s not do anything we don’t have to, okay?”
“Uh… we might wanna slow down for Lori, eh?” He points his thumb backwards.
“Oh yeah!” Jenna eases off the throttle, allowing Lori to catch up.
Lucas shouts, “Ever thought about getting a better form of transportation?”
Lori lifts her chin. “I have two things to say about that. One! A horse doesn’t run out of gas in the middle of the wilderness. And two! Motorcycles can’t reproduce themselves.” She grins. “Unless you’ve managed to breed your cycle there?”
Lucas bursts out laughing. “Hah! Good one! You’ve got a point. But these things are faster.” his expression fades to tense concern, “I just got a really bad feeling."
Jenna slows to a stop, kills the engine, “What’s wrong?” she snaps, “Do you have a problem you need to resolve or what? If you don’t want to go, then you can stay right here if it bothers you that much. But I’m going.” She fires her bike back up, kicks off hard and speeds away, leaving Lucas and Lori behind.
"Jenna, WAIT!" Lucas screams as he speeds after her, leaving Lori alone. "Be careful!" The ground begins to tremble in random intervals.
Lori sputters from the dust then heads off after Lucas, shaking her head.
Lucas continues shouting, "Jenna! Wait! At least get your armor on!"
"Okay!" Jenna stops and begins rapidly donning her armor, like a scared side-girl escaping before the girlfriend shows up. Lucas stops right behind her and begins strapping his armor on allowing Lori catches up.
"Thank you! I don't wanna see anyone get hurt so thanks," Lucas replies, almost winning the race to get his armor secure.
"Yeah okay," Jenna says, "Hey, I'm sorry for being so rude to you, I didn't really mean to. I'm just getting annoyed with all the crap that' happening, okay?"
*******************************************************
Meanwhile...
The three vehicles reach the edge of town, close to a spot Alec knows. Not much farther now. Jedite hangs back about fifty feet, moving in silence, eyes scanning for danger.
Alec calls back to him, “Hey, Jedite. I need your help. We need to scout ahead to see what these assholes look like. Whoever hit my apartment did a pro job. Three fusion bombs bolted to the sink… remote detonator triggered by a recording I played. These guys are players. They found my apartment with ease.” As he approaches the outskirts, he spots multiple figures on the horizon... shapes that don’t look quite right.
Nick steps up beside him, weapon drawn. “So Alec… what do you see?”
******************************************
Jedite pushes forward, closing the distance. At about a thousand feet out, he gets a clear view: two skelebots and eight Chrome soldiers standing over Warren and another Blue Angels member.
Jedite spots that he's noticed, Just a flicker of movement, but the reaction is instant. Both skelebots snap toward him, turning in perfect mechanical unison. He's still only 150 feet away. Alec and Nick are too far behind. They raise their rifles, which are long, brutal‑looking rifles. The Chrome soldiers tense, also alerted to Jedite’s presence.
He doesn’t hesitate as he ignites his blades, silver outline flaring along the edges, and sprints straight toward the captives.
Two more Chrome soldiers erupt from the trees behind Warren and the second Blue Angel. Dust kicks up behind them as they rush to reinforce the line.
*******************************************
A moment later, Chris spots movement that's fast, low, and wrong. A silver‑lined black armored figure breaks from the horizon and charges straight toward the group. He’s already dangerously close by the time Chris and Gruber notice him from their tree line cover.
Gruber’s voice stays calm, cold. “Now we see how good they are. If the skelebots and Chrome look like they’re losing, then we strike. Understood?”
Chris nods, “Yes, sir.”
“There is an intruder to your west,” Gruber reports to the skelebots.
Chris watches the skelebots and Chrome reposition, weapons raised, preparing to deal with this unknown threat. His grip tightens on his rifle.
**************************************
Alec sees it. “Oh SHIT!” and raises his Firebreather, scope locked on the skelebot’s head, preparing to punch shots straight through its eyes.
Nick curses under his breath, “Ah shit!” as he leaps from cover, gun in hand, weaving to stay out of Alec’s line of fire, watching Jedite hit full stride, charging straight at the armored Chrome and skelebots. At the same moment, Bruce lunges upward and grabs the Chrome beside him, arm around the soldier, attempting a rear naked choke. Warren rolls away, trying to get clear.
The Chrome open fire on Jedite. He deflects nearly every laser with his laser swords. One shot slips through, slamming into his chest plate. He feels the burn as it scorches the metal. Less than half of his laser deflections bounce back at the Chrome or skelebots, yet none of them go down...
A few stray beams streak past Bruce, close, but missing him. Nick gets a few feet ahead, then pivots and runs back toward his hovercycle and the safety of cover. Alec continues shooting, resulting in two good shots into one skelebot.
Then everything shifts. Warren, writhes on the ground, flashing with energy. Bruce sees a hole burst through the helmet of the Chrome he’s strangling, blood filling up inside the helmet. Warren grins. “Like I said before, stupid assholes.”
*****************************
Gruber watches from the tree line, smiling. “Hmm… looks like they’re having trouble. Interesting d-bee they’ve got out there.” He points toward Jedite. “Wilks laser swords... and he uses them well. Two more near the city. And our two prisoners think they’re heroes now,” he glances at Chris. “I’ll let you make the call. What do you want to do?”
Chris radios out: “SAMAS One and Two, standby. Psi unit, standby. Skelebot patrol fifteen, report to coordinates NG‑17‑52.”
“Green light on SAMAS units,” the pilots respond.
“Green light on psi units,” the stalkers and Dog Boys report.
Chris turns to Gruber. “Are the Chrome expendable?”
“Expendable.”
Chris nods, “Then we let them go. They’ll think they escaped. We follow them to their base and strike. Might get their leader. And watching them fight. We can learn a lot.” He keeps his eyes firmly on Jedite, studying the silver‑armored warrior.
“Good plan. You’re a smart one, Chris.” Gruber keys the radio twice, “Chrome One. Act as the leader if you lose. Do what they say. Try to get info on the d-bee's capabilities. Understood?”
“Understood. We shouldn’t lose, sir.”
Chris continues watching the battle unfold.
**************************************
Warren looks dazed just long enough for one of the Chrome to decide that mercy is overrated. The soldier cracks him across the nose with a rifle butt, dropping him into the growing blood puddle dumping from the dead Chrome's helmet. His nose begins pouring blood, adding to the puddle as Bruce reacts like a man who’s been waiting his whole life for an excuse. He snatches the dead Chrome’s rifle.
Four other Chrome immediately rain lasers as Jedite deflects every shot like he’s auditioning for a sword‑based Cirque du Soleil. Only two of the ricochets actually hit a Chrome, and the rest zip past Warren.
The two skelebots decide Warren is the day’s special. The first misses. The second blows Warren’s left hand clean off. Warren screams and curls into a ball, reconsidering all his life choices. He's having a bad day.
Bruce heroically tries to shoot the Chrome who hit Warren, point‑blank, but the Chrome simply knocks the gun aside mid‑shot, like swatting a fly, then kicks him backwards.
The skelebots turn their attention to Jedite. He deflects one of their shots back, leaving it wobbling and sparking like a broken toaster. The other hits his armored leg, only causing a bubble in the paint. Jedite makes it to them, right in the middle of the Chrome and skelebots.
One Chrome screams into a radio, “We need backup! PLEASE!”
*********************************
Across the battlefield, near the city:
Nick screams, “DIE, BASTARDS, DIE!” as he fires wildly at the Chrome, hitting the same one Jedite’s deflected shots struck. He erupts from cover again, continuing to empty his clip.
Alec fires next, hitting a Chrome square in the chest and welding the armor shut. The Chrome looks down at his fused chest plate like, oO(Well that’s inconvenient)Oo then continues shooting.
**************************
Somewhere else, Chris gives orders: “Okay, SAMAS teams! Go in and try to make them run. SAMAS One, I want you to shoot at the D‑Bee in the black and silver armor.” Then he turns to Gruber. “Need to know if he can parry railgun rounds.”
**************************
Back on the battlefield, Jedite finally reaches perfect striking position. He laughs and becomes a blur of glowing silver against the skelebots and the Chrome who struck Warren with the enthusiasm of a man chopping vegetables. All the while, he continues deflecting lasers with careful, rapid precision, making sure none of the ricochets hit Bruce and Warren, who are, frankly, in the way. He continues laughing, because apparently this is his idea of a good time.
From across the field, Alec misses the same skelebot, that Jedite just hit, so badly the shot might as well have been aimed at a different county.
The second skelebot fires its laser rifle at Jedite, hitting him square in the abdominal armor plate. The armor looks almost toasted, like someone tried to broil it.
Nick keeps charging forward, only a quarter of the way there, reloading, then continues firing. Two shots hit a Chrome, but he reacts like someone flicked him with a rubber band.
Bruce unloads the entire clip, of his newly acquired rifle, into the Chrome in front of him. The guy splatters backward, and several stray shots trail off into the trees across the open ground, probably confusing some wildlife as trees topple. Just ahead of him, Jedite turns his blades on the second skelebot. In his flurry of laser slashes, only one slash connects as the bot hops back. Sparks fly everywhere, and parts of its inner workings are now exposed, showing off its mechanical organs.
The other skelebot fires at Jedite. He casually deflects the laser upward, sending it harmlessly into the sky, his laughter dies down to a sinister chuckle.
Alec fires another shot at the stumbling skelebot, barely missing. The Chrome finally notice Bruce. One fires at him while the others try to rush him, only to fail miserably. Something seems to be blocking them, or Bruce is just sidestepping like he’s dancing. He simply leans aside as the shot whizzes past his head. Warren passes out.
The skelebots drop their rifles in perfect mechanical sync, extending their 18‑inch vibro-blades like they’re about to carve a Thanksgiving turkey. Jedite doesn’t even flinch. He simply pivots and slashes at the nearest Chrome into four clean, separate horrifying slices. The remaining Chrome immediately decide that loyalty is overrated and scatter in every direction.
Right then, two silhouettes approach rapidly from the west, just beyond the tree line. At first glance, they look like men hovering above the ground. Then the truth hits. They’re SAMAS.
*******************************************************
The ground trembles; subtle at first, then unmistakable. Gruber stiffens. “Dammit… Northern Gun’s getting involved.” His jaw tightens. “Those are mech!”
Chris snaps toward the SAMAS units. “Can you see them? How many, and what type?” turning his attention back to Gruber, tension rising, he asks, “What do we do? Call the skelebot patrol or flee and let the remaining Chrome take the hit?”
The SAMAS pilots respond over comms:
“SAMAS One: Negative, sir. No visuals yet.”
“SAMAS Two: Same here.”
Gruber exhales sharply, “Yeah. Let the Chrome take the heat. We don’t need to be scrapping with Northern Gun.”
Chris nods, then radios again. “SAMAS units, please retreat as soon as you get visual confirmation.” then asks Gruber, “When they flee, who tracks them? PSI team or us?”
Gruber’s eyes narrow, “You, Chris. You’re smart enough. ‘Accidentally’ bump into them. Help them. I’ll send the remaining Chrome to slow them down. Understood?”
Chris hesitates. “Okay… but what about the two prisoners? They’ll remember me.”
Gruber doesn’t blink. “SAMAS One and Two... kill the prisoners.”
Chris reacts instantly, “Gruber, I’ll disable the two skelebots and then go save the kid. You’d better find somewhere else to watch the rest of the battle. I’ll follow them to their base and contact you.”
He runs towards the battle...
***********************************
Bruce’s voice crackles over the radio, raw and panicked, “Man… how in the hell are we gonna get out of this? We’re screwed!”
Jedite answers without words, just action, shearing a clean slice of metal off the skelebot; sparks scattering like embers. To the west, the two SAMAS finally open fire. Their rail guns roar, unleashing twin streams of slugs that tear the ground apart like buried dynamite. The earth erupts around Bruce and Warren. Bruce dives clear. Warren can't. The slugs pulverize his chest, killing him instantly.
The SAMAS slow, adjusting their angle for another pass, leaving a dust trail in their wake.
Jedite spots a juicer, moving with lightning speed, firing a perfect shot into the back of the skelebot’s head, stumbling it. He runs as fast as a car, blurring across the battlefield. The skelebot retaliates, slicing at Jedite, causing him to focus as he parries, turning the exchange into a deadly dance of blades. The second, more damaged skelebot, also slashes at Jedite. He blocks both blades, becoming a whirlwind against the less‑damaged bot until it looks just as ruined as its partner. The juicer drills it in the back of the head again. It continues its dance with Jedite, yet, he blocks every strike, then counters with brutal precision. He finishes the second skelebot, destroying it completely. The juicer final shot shatters the other skelebot's head. Jedite cuts the rest of it in half.
Bruce begins sprinting towards the others, heading across the battlefield just as Alec showers the area with grenades, creating a chaotic barrier between himself and Jedite. The SAMAS continue bursting rail gun rounds at Bruce. Dirt explodes around him as rail slugs buzz past his ears like giant, angry hornets. Yet, he squeezes his eyes shut, praying he makes it.
Jedite and the juicer finally notice Warren's body, realizing he's beyond saving.
Bruce keeps running as two more streams of rail rounds miss him by inches. The juicer intercepts Bruce, grabbing him mid‑run, and runs with him under his arm, like a football, toward Alec and Nick. Jedite bounds after them, closing the distance fast.
The SAMAS fire again, missing all three of them.
Alec retreats to his vehicle as well.
Nick, now on his hovercycle, whips it around, heading back into the city.
Alec fires up his Rocket, races toward the trio, then brakes sideways, door already flung open. The juicer reaches him first, shoving Bruce into the passenger seat.
“GO! We’ve got two SAM units coming!” he shouts, buckling in and praying under his breath. Alec peels out, tires screaming, leaving the battlefield behind.
*******************************************************
Jenna exhales, steadying herself. “It’s okay.” She and Lucas are done donning their armor when Nick comes barreling around the corner from several blocks up. Jenna tightens a latch. “Hey! There’s Nick. Maybe he can tell us what’s happening.”
Nick pulls up beside them, face grim. “I’ve got good news and bad news. Good news is that we found Warren and another Blue Angels member. Bad news is that Warren just died. And that’s not all. The Coalition is now part of your problems. Oh, and two SAMAS are headed this way."
Jenna’s face flushes. “Okay… so that means we turn around and leave, right? Warren’s dead and that’s all we came here for. Unless you guys think we can take on two SAMAS and whatever else is down there!”
Lucas feels the words hit him like a punch. “Damn… this sucks. Jenna’s right. No need to risk our lives now.”
“I think we’d be committing suicide if we try to fight them head‑on,” Jenna comments, “If we have to fight, we will, but we shouldn’t risk it now. It’s not worth it.”
Nick nods sharply. “No, I don’t want to fight them. But if we don’t get the hell out of here, they’ll end us.”
“Then let’s go,” Jenna says. “Where are the rest of them?”
Alec’s Dodge tears around the corner, skidding to a stop behind Nick, Jenna, Lucas, and Lori. Beside him sits Bruce and Chris, their new juicer friend.
Lucas shouts, “What got Warren?!”
“SAMAS,” Alec snaps, “Friggen A. We went out there. Fought a bunch of Chrome and two skelebots, then two SAMAS came in. We heard a big rumble and figured more were joining the party, so we bailed. They knew we'd come with heavy firepower. I need to go to militia HQ. Care to follow us?” He gestures to Chris, who recently introduced himself, “Looks like we’re in deep shit. We need to hit militia HQ, restock weapons, then take care of the Chrome once and for all. Guys, this is Chris.”
Chris stays stoic, keeping his cover. “Ooh. Free weapons and armor? I’m in.”
Nick follows Alec and Jenna toward Militia HQ, hoping for better firepower. Lori pushes her horse close to near exhaustion. Jedite leaps across rooftops when he can, sprinting when he can’t; forming a chaotic convoy toward Northern Gun Military HQ.
They arrive. Vehicles, and one very tired horse, come to a stop. Alec heads for the front doors as Lt. Green, an overweight man with a mop of dark hair and a ridiculous bushy mustache, bursts out, furious. “What the SHIT! What the hell is the Coalition doing involved in this? We don’t need a fight with that nation! What the hell happened out there?!”
Behind him stands a wide‑eyed man who looks like a Momma’s boy, also known as a crazy, evident by the canister like knobby protrusions sticking from his skull. He stares at the group with unsettlingly bright blue eyes. As the lieutenant continues his tirade, the crazy scoots behind him… and begins overdramatically mimicking him. Then, without warning, he pumps his fists beside his hips and starts doing pelvic thrusts from behind.
Alec barks, “You’ll see it in the damn report! I want to see the men who interrogated me. NOW!” Jenna steps off her bike and walks up beside Alec.
Lt. Green gestures. “Well, Mavis here is my present to you. He’s fast, smart, and maybe exactly what you need,” and steps aside, revealing Mavis, who's now standing perfectly still, trying to look innocent despite the smirk plastered across his face.
Jedite dismounts, armor scorched, “As you can tell,” he starts with a grin, “my armor has seen better days. It’s been hashed to hell doing work for you people. If you’d be so kind, I’d like it replaced so I can continue my mission.”
“Yes, yes,” Green absently waves, causing Jedite to coldly glare, “We can do that. And reload your clips," Not knowing Jedite doesn't use guns, he nods to Mavis, “Well, my boy, introduce yourself!”
Alec cuts in. “Green, this is major shit. It reeks of CS. Two skelebots, then two SAMAS. And that rumble? I’m guessing a skull transport. So I, excuse me, WE need a couple hours in the armory.”
“Fine,” Green says. “But don’t go overboard with supplies, Dallas. And for the record, the rumbling was our civil defense on the way. They only found bodies and a few destroyed bots. And yes. You’re in a pickle. We need to solve this fast before it begins a full‑scale conflict.”
Mavis nods enthusiastically, still smirking, still vibrating with chaotic energy.
Chris answers the video chat sharply, his voice low. “No, sir. I just don’t appreciate people killing innocents, especially kids. I’m on my way to get him.” He loads his gear into the hovercraft, engines humming beneath the metal floor, then hovers away, blowing litter into the air.
Minutes later, he’s parked a block away from Alec Dallas’s apartment. He hides his JA‑11, a popular juicer assassin rifle, inside the craft, taking only his pistol, juicer plate, vibro‑sword, and two knives. His eyes scan the building, searching for any stealth entry point.
“How old is this kid?” Chris mutters. “And what exactly do you want done with him?” He pauses, jaw tightening. “If the plan is to kill him, forget it. I’m not kidnapping a kid for you. You’ll have to do that yourself. Otherwise, tell me where Alec Dallas’s apartment is, what defenses he has, and I’ll need this hovercraft to bring the kid to you.”
Gruber’s voice crackles through his wrist vidcom. “No, I don’t plan to kill the kid. But I do plan to eliminate this new group of freedom fighters. I can let you have the hovercraft. I don’t know how old the kid is. Alec Dallas’s apartment is on 50th Street, unit 2100. You’re not getting soft on me, are you, soldier?”
Chris arrived in Ishpeming seeking Gruber Chekolovski, a Coalition special operative out of Chi‑Town, current leader of the Chrome city-rat gang, and a man with a long list of targets, an example being ex‑Coalition troops like former SAMAS pilot Lt. Jack Marshal. Whom, Chris had helped eliminate. And now the Blue Angels gang, who allow D‑Bee “vermin” into their ranks. And Northern Gun itself, whose weapons production he intends to sabotage to force a treaty with the Coalition States. Chris believes Gruber's plan is to slow down, if not sabotage, their operations.
Gruber arrives. Chris immediately sees that Gruber is also a juicer; a tall, six foot, blond buzzcut haired, Triax‑born soldier, sworn to the Coalition. He has a new problem: the Blue Angels have new allies, dangerous ones.
Gruber explains, tension simmering beneath his words, “The Blue Angels picked up new help. Five of them, at least. One’s an ex‑NG militia sergeant, Alec Dallas. Another’s a female rat, named Jenna. The other two rats are Lucas and some young boy. There’s also a tall woman, six feet tall at least, seen with them. Maybe more. We’re not sure.” He continues, voice dropping, “I had my boys follow Alec from the militia base to his home. Five of his people left. One stayed inside. I want you to capture the kid and bring him to me alive. There’s also a sixth individual with black and silver armor. We know almost nothing about him. We aren't even sure if he's affiliated.”
Gruber meets Chris’s eyes. “Can you do that for me?”
Chris studies the two‑story duplex from across the street, taking in every angle, every shadow. The stealthiest entry point looks simple enough: A person could slip up the exterior steps and quietly pick the lock. No theatrics. No noise.
He nods to Gruber and sets off. He ascends the stairs with controlled, silent steps. He tries the door first, just in case Alec left it unlocked. It's locked... He then works the lock with quiet precision, but the tumblers refuse to budge. After a few more careful attempts, he exhales sharply and kicks the door in.
The apartment bursts open, and inside, on a couch surrounded by weapons mounted on walls and stacked in safes, a kid in his late teens with dirty blond hair stares at him in horror. “Oh shit!” he yelps. “A juicer! No, no, don’t kill me! Don’t kill me!” He curls into a tight fetal ball, shaking.
Chris levels his rifle at him, “Come with me now and you won’t be hurt. Don’t try to escape and you won’t be hurt. Don’t call for help and you won’t be hurt.” He pauses, voice dropping. “Resist even a little… and you will be hurt.” as he grabs the kid by the right arm, not gentle, not cruel, just firm, and pulls him to his feet. He stumbles along, too terrified to fight back.
Chris leads out to the hovercraft. Shock keeps him compliant; he just goes with it, breathless and confused. He shoves him into the hovercraft, jumps in after him, and fires up the engines. It levitates and then rockets away from the building. Warren clings to the seat, voice shaking. “So… what are you gonna do with me? You work for the Chromes, don’t you?”
Chris keeps the hovercraft at high speed, Warren clutching the seat as the city blurs past. “Chrome?” he says, glancing over. “Never heard of ’em. If you want to talk, why don’t you tell me about your friends?”
Warren swallows, “Okay… but why do you want me? You know about me, don’t you? My friends? I don’t really have friends. The people I was with just left me there. They don’t like me,” he hesitates, then laughs, “If you’re looking for them, you’re too late. They’re demolishing your base.”
Chris snorts. “Base? I’m new in town. How could I have a base?” He keeps his eyes forward. “And if they’re not your friends, why’d they let you stay in the apartment? Why not throw you out?”
Warren shrugs, defeated. “I guess they just tolerate me being around. So what do you want with me? What’s so special about my ‘friends’?” The hovercraft clears the last row of buildings, heading toward the outskirts where Gruber waits.
Gruber stands with two psi‑stalkers and four Dog Boys at his side. In the distance, Chris spots the silhouettes of two SAMAS suits, standing motionless, waiting for orders. Chris slows the hovercraft and brings it to a stop near Gruber. He turns to the kid. “This person wants to talk to you. So I brought you to him. Get out.”
Warren climbs out, nervous and unsure. Chris steps out after him and faces Gruber. “Here’s the kid you asked me to pick up.”
Gruber points to a patch of dirt near his boots. “Alright, kid. Sit here.” Warren obeys, moving slowly, nervous and pale. He settles onto the ground, arms wrapped around his knees.
“Now we wait for the others,” Gruber adds.
Chris reaches back into the hovercraft, grabbing his gear. He keeps the JA‑11 rifle in hand, long clip locked in place. “Others?” he mutters, then walks over to Gruber. “So I guess that’s why there’s a little welcome party here.”
Gruber doesn’t look at him. “Yeah. This is it,” his eyes fixed on the distant city skyline. Chris follows his gaze, scanning for movement. He waits, patient but tense.
Gruber whispers something into his radio, too quiet to catch, then smirks with a knowing smile. A moment later, a Chrome soldier emerges from behind the SAMAS suits, clad in dead‑boy armor and carrying an NG‑P7 particle beam rifle. He takes position beside Warren, standing guard.
Warren mutters under his breath, barely audible. “Dumb son of a bitch…”
Gruber motions for Chris to follow and starts walking toward the SAMAS units. Chris falls in behind him, rifle ready, every instinct on alert. He doesn’t like the setup. Not at all.
A skelebot approaches from the distance, metal joints clacking as it escorts another Blue Angels gang member. It stops in front of Gruber and Chris, “This is Bruce Wolfstein,” it announces in a deep, monotone, robotic voice.
Bruce is marched past them to them as Gruber gestures toward the spot where Warren and the Chrome guard stand. “Take him down to the other scum‑child.”
Bruce, with blond hair, brown eyes, six feet tall and average build, is pushed into kneeling position beside Warren. Compared to them, Chris and Gruber look massive; both muscular in light armor, carrying juicer assassin rifles.
Bruce leans toward Warren. “So what the hell is going on, man? What do they want from us?”
Warren keeps his voice low. “I wanted to join the Blue Angels. But the gang wars started again and my friends are what they want. We’re just bait to get them here. And when they do get here… we’re dead. You get what I mean?”
Bruce nods grimly. “Yeah. I get it. We’re all screwed if we can’t warn them.”
Chris watches the skelebot pass, muttering under his breath, “Skelebot… I hate these things.” He turns to Gruber. “So what do we do now, sir?”
Gruber’s voice drops into a low, cold explanation. “Well… as soon as the rebels arrive, we kill half of them and make a proposition to the remaining. The obvious ones to die are the magic and mind‑users. Don’t let them fool you, Chris. They’re powerful and they can make you believe what you’re doing is wrong.”
Chris nods once. “Okay.” He checks each weapon again... just to be sure. Then he scans the area for a good vantage point; somewhere with a clean angle and solid cover. He finds it, trots off and settles in.
Around him, Gruber and the rest of the Chrome forces melt into the tree line, taking cover. Only a skelebot and the six Chrome soldiers remain out in the open with Warren and Bruce. The SAM units disappear into the trees.
Chris forces himself to stay patient, rifle steady, eyes fixed on the approach route. Wrist vidcom on and ready to coordinate... The surprise party is about to begin.
*******************************************************
Jedite moves up the narrow, crate‑lined hallway, passing a cutting table cluttered with half‑finished engine parts. The corridor bends right. Along the right‑hand wall, a wooden staircase climbs upward, faint light spilling down from above. To the left, a pair of grimy restroom doors - Boys and Girls - sit beside a rack of engine parts and two old telephones mounted on the wall.
Straight ahead, a set of filthy swinging double doors leads into the supermarket area. Beside each door hangs a transceiver unit, tuned to pick up militia radio and police scanner broadcasts.
The supermarket interior has been gutted and repurposed into rows of lockers and storage cages that replaced the original aisles and shelves. Every locker is shut tight. The place feels abandoned, but not empty.
Then Jedite hears whispers drift down from the staircase above. “…someone here?… what does he want with… okay, sir… of it…” The voices cut off. A quick shuffle of movement follows, like someone repositioning, preparing.
His patience snaps. He ignites both laser blades, their hum filling the hallway with a low, dangerous vibration. With a flick of his hand, he unleashes a telekinetic burst upward, ripping chunks of ceiling apart directly beneath where he heard the voices. Dust and debris rain down.
He doesn’t wait to see who scatters. Jedite turns, strides toward the exit, and steps out of the building. His blades flare brighter as he raises them against the exterior wall. oO(If the Chrome won’t come out, then I'll make them)Oo He begins carving into the building itself, loud, deliberate, impossible to ignore. The shriek of searing metal and collapsing wall echoes across the block. That should draw those shiny bastards out.
And lead the others straight to him as he hears a thunderous boom from inside.
*******************************************************
Alec, Jenna, Lori and Lucas:
Jenna leads the team down a narrow street that opens into a worn‑down city block. An old supermarket dominates the area, its cracked parking lot stretching around all sides. Apartment complexes flank it on the left and an abandoned power station on the right. Across from the market sits a dump ground, full of rusted metal, collapsed sheds, and a few rundown buildings leaning against the fence line.
A handful of decent vehicles sit near the apartments... maybe five total. No tents. No vagrants. No signs of casual life. Just silence. Alec activates another thermal scan, “Is this it?” he asks Jenna. His visor lights up. Four heat signatures sprint toward the forest behind the supermarket, disappearing into the trees. A few more figures move through the dump ground, but the rubble makes it impossible to tell if they’re human.
“Yeah… this is it,” she replies, scanning the area with growing unease. “Umm… where’s Jedite?” No one knows...
Alec moves toward the dump ground, moving slow and quietly. He closes in on the heat signatures, humanoid shapes definitely. He lifts his visor for a clearer look. Inside a small shack, likely the old junkyard office, three young men sit around a table playing cards. Alec knows there must be more inside oO(No one plays cards with only three people in a place like this)Oo He creeps closer, slipping behind a rusted car frame. From this angle, he sees six individuals inside, early twenties, ganger types. The shack looks like a crack house, with bottles, trash, smoke, and the stale smell of chemicals.
Alec’s voice drops into a deep, controlled tone as his thumb flips a switch on his belt, his forcefield begins humming, “Hey, assholes. Yeah… you ugly bastards. Where’s your boss?” He stays hidden behind the car, grenade launcher aimed at the shack.
The men freeze mid‑game, turning toward the sound. Most are half‑wasted from booze. One slumps back in his chair and laughs. “Screw you, you fruitcake! We’re our own bosses, jackass.”
Another shouts, “What are you, a cop? Militia?” then laughs.
Alec keeps his voice steady. “Just wondering. I’m looking to join you Chromes.”
“Oh yeah?” one sneers, finally catching a glimpse of Alec, “Why would the Chrome want you? You look dangerous with those toy guns.” The group erupts into sloppy laughter. “So what makes you want to join the Chrome?” the same man asks.
Alec grins through the car frame. “Because I have a taste for carnage. And I’ve got something no one else can offer… a Glitter Boy.”
The laughter stops.
“Show us where it is,” one says, “and maybe we’ll take you to the Chrome. Or you could join us instead.”
“I want to know where the Chrome are,” Alec replies. “You take me to them, then we talk.”
One man burps up stale beer, then swallows it and staggers toward Alec’s hiding spot. “You really wanna find the Chrome, don’t you? Why?” His words slur together, “They wouldn’t buy a Glitter Boy off you. Maybe trade or take it from you.” as he waves a finger at Alec. “Put yer pea shooter away. What would you trade them for? We might have better.”
“I doubt that,” Alec says. “Just take me to them. If their offer doesn’t impress me, I’ll come back after you sober up.”
Another man points lazily toward the supermarket. “Just go over there. They’re always heading into that place. Why the hell would you look in the dumps?”
Alec nods once, ignoring the question, realizing the guy is right, “Well then… maybe we’ll meet again,” and slips away from the shack, heading to the supermarket. Once there, he initiates another thermal scan, sweeping the interior for movement.
Afterwards, he slips back to the group, visor dimming as he approaches. “Lucas,” he loudly whispers, “I think you should head back to my apartment. These guys look serious. And if they go after Warren again… you might be able to stop them.”
Lucas hesitates, then nods. “Okay… if you insist.” He turns to Jenna. “Take care of yourself. I know you can.” He leans in, gives her a quick kiss, then jogs off toward Alec’s apartment.
Alec nods to the girls, then returns to the supermarket, moving low and silent until he’s close enough to peer through one of the grimy, translucent windows. Inside, silhouettes move through the darkness, numerous figures shifting between aisles. A faint fire alarm bleeds through the walls, barely audible. The interior lights are off, but a few dim glows flicker near the back of the store, high above eye level.
The aisles have been rebuilt into storage rows with lockers, crates, metal cages. No food anywhere. The figures inside are armored, their chrome plating catching what little light exists.
Alec backs up fifty feet, and raises his grenade launcher. He fires. The grenade hits the glass with a thunderous crack, blowing out the window and sending a shockwave through the supermarket. Alec sprints forward through the smoke and debris. “Knock, knock!” he shouts as he climbs through the shattered frame.
He fires two more grenades toward a dense cluster of Chrome, hiding behind crates. The explosions ripple through the interior, rattling lockers and sending figures scattering for cover. Smoke floods the aisles, reflecting daylight from outside and blinding Alec’s night vision.
He switches to thermal-optics. The world snaps into heat‑shapes of humanoid forms scrambling behind metal barriers. Alec fires another grenade. The scattering figures get met with laser bursts from his Firebreather, each burst illuminating the haze.
He sees the back of the warehouse collapse, with metal folding inward and dust erupting into the air. The sound is enough to send every Chrome from the rear section, and those near Alec’s position, charging straight toward him in a chaotic blitz of automatic weapons cracking and lasers lancing toward him.
He counts fast, three dozen, maybe more. Half armored, half carrying high‑energy weapons. All of them coming for him. “Damnit!” Alec mutters as he fires a laser burst into the oncoming wave, then glances up, “Well… worth a try.” and launches two grenades into the ceiling above the charging swarm.
The explosion rocks entire building. He continues to spray lasers into the crowd, dropping a few as several shots slam into his force field, draining the battery. He fires two more grenades straight upward as he leaps back. Heavy debris rains down, swallowing the rush of attackers in a cloud of dust and falling metal.
He kills his thermal optics - the heat bloom is too bright to see through. Then, without warning, two laser blades, floating and spinning, slice around the corner ahead of him, carving parallel lines down the wall. A three‑foot‑wide gap opens a section of wall folds inward under its own weight.
Jedite steps through the dust, expertly catching both blades out of the air. The walls finish collapsing behind him. The building continues collapsing into a gigantic heap of twisted metal, smoke and dust.
Only six Chrome make it out of the wreckage, stumbling through the haze. Alec waits, then switches thermal optics back on. All six flare into view. He launches two grenades at them.
As the Chrome dive for whatever meager cover they can find, Jedite telekinetically bursts them back into the blast, making himself public enemy number one.
*******************************************************
Meanwhile, back at their hiding place, Lori finishes casting armor spells on everyone, reminding Jenna again that it’s weak and short‑lived. Suddenly, Chrome spill out of the now collapsing building, She hurls a glowing net toward the nearest group as she ducks behind cover, grabs the L-20 and commences a hail of suppressing fire.
Jenna focuses on one of the six Chromes. She hits him with Bio‑Manipulation of the eyes, blinding him instantly. As he staggers, she steps closer, laser pistol raised, and fires three controlled shots, targeting for head, neck, chest.
*******************************************************
Blue Angels HQ:
Elsewhere, Drake turns and looks back at Nicklous, his expression unreadable. “They will be of great help to you. Go now, and I will reward you greatly. If you fail… I can't help you.”
Nick hesitates, “So where does this address take me? And how do I get there? I’d like to know before I wander the streets with no clue what’s going on.”
“That is Alec Dallas’s apartment,” Drake replies. “Someone should be there to help you find the rest. If not, wait for them. Have them contact me if they have questions.” He taps the paper in Nick’s hand. “Go now. His apartment number is on there.”
Later...
Nick reaches Alec Dallas’s apartment just in time to see a hovercraft tearing away from the curb, engines whining as it disappears down the street. The sudden motion puts him on alert. oO(Someone left in a hurry)Oo
He climbs the exterior steps and finds the apartment door kicked in, splintered around the lock. Inside, the place is empty; No voices or movement. Just silence and the faint smell of ozone from recently handled weapons. The interior looks less like a home and more like a personal armory. Safes line the walls, some stacked two high. Weapons hang mounted in neat rows, well organized, maintained and ready. On the couch sits an L‑20 pulse rifle, left out as if someone had been cleaning it or preparing it for use.
Despite the arsenal, the apartment itself feels strangely comfortable and lived‑in, functional, like a soldier’s den. But whoever was here is gone, and Nick is left standing in the wrecked doorway, trying to piece together what happened. He grabs the L-20 and leaves toward his hovercycle, only to freeze when he hears someone calling his name.
He turns, scanning the street. A figure jogs toward him, wearing Blue Angels colors. Nick recognizes Lucas, one of the better‑known members of the gang. He stops in front of him, breathing hard. “Hey, what are you doing here? Who sent you? Have you seen Warren? Kid, about five‑eight, mouthy as hell.”
Nick shakes his head. “Drake sent me. And no, I haven’t seen Warren. Why?”
Lucas’s eyes narrow. “Then why are you carrying the L‑20 pulse rifle we left for him?”
Nick defensively shrugs. “Hey, I didn’t know it was his. I just needed some extra firepower, so I took it. If he needs it more than I do, I’ll put it back and buy myself a new gun.”
Lucas folds his arms. “So Drake sent you, huh? What are you supposed to do for us? What can you do?”
Nick remembers the wrecked state of Alec’s apartment and bristles. “Why are you asking so many questions? You looking for trouble? I’ll break you in half. And for your question... what I’m supposed to do is kick Chrome ass. But if you don’t stop bugging me, I’ll kick yours. And you might want to check your friend’s apartment, because it’s trashed.”
He turns and starts walking toward his bike. Lucas watches him, thinking. “Hmm… well, I guess you can help us. You’ve got the right mentality.” His expression shifts to worry. “How bad was the damage? Shit! Warren’s in trouble. You said you’d help, right?”
Nick sits on his hovercycle, engine rumbling beneath him. “Yeah, they messed that place up pretty bad. But then again, he might like it like that.” He glances back at Lucas. “So where could Warren be? You name the place, and we’ll go.” Nick revs the engine and rolls the bike closer to Lucas, ready to move.
“Up the street, then left a few blocks. We’ve gotta get to the edge of the city. That’s where everyone is.”
Lucas nods without hesitation. “No problem. Hop on the back.” He swings onto the hovercycle and adds, “And you better hang on tight. If you fall off, it’s not my fault.” Nick smirks, climbs on behind him, gripping the frame as Lucas guns the engine. The hovercycle rockets forward, tearing down the street at top speed as they head toward the city’s edge.
*******************************************************
Meanwhile...
Shrapnel whips past the Alec, Jedite and the girls as Nick and Lucas arrive, hovercycle sliding to a stop. Lucas jumps off, eyes wide. All but one Chrome lie dead, the last survivor sprinting away in panic. The grenade blasts, along with Lori and Jenna’s cover fire, have left the battlefield scattered with ruined armor and debris.
Lucas holds up the L‑20 pulse rifle. “Wait! This isn’t all of them! They have Warren!” He looks at Nick; a tall, light‑haired, muscular Blue Angel. “Tell them what you saw, man.” Then back to Alec. “They trashed your apartment.”
Alec’s jaw tightens. “Well… if this isn’t all of them, then where are the others?”
Lucas shakes his head, frustration tightening his voice. “I don’t know. All I do know is they’re the only ones with a grudge against us. So yeah, I think they’re the ones who’d pull something like this.”
Nick adjusts the grip on his weapon. “Yeah, they trashed the place. You’ll have to renovate the whole thing just to get it looking like it did before.” He glances at the battlefield. “And as for Warren? I have no idea where he is. So we have to assume they grabbed him. If we kill all of them, we’ll never find him. But we can kill all but one and get the info we need.”
Alec raises a hand. “Hold on. No one knows where I live. So how could they have found him? Unless…” A puzzled frown crosses his face, “Unless… you?”
Before anyone can answer, Jedite somehow lands in front of the escaping Chrome, dismembering him with six quick strikes.
“Well… let’s go find our lost... stolen friend," She turns away from the violent display and starts walking toward Alec’s apartment.
Nick calls after her. “Wait! Do you want a lift back to the apartment?” He climbs onto his hovercycle, ready to go. Lucas scowls at the offer. Nick notices and shrugs, then nods to Lori instead. “You want a ride back?” Lori shrugs, joining Lucas and Jenna as they happily walk hand in hand.
Lucas gazes ahead, “Maybe we should hurry. Warren’s most likely in trouble.”
Nick, frustrated, sensing them waste time, pulls up beside her again. “So, Jenna, still need a ride back to the apartment? It’s a lot faster.”
“Yeah. Might as well, since we should ‘hurry.’” Jenna climbs on.
Alec lingers for a moment, thinking, then catches up. Halfway back, he breaks off onto an alternate route, circling around so he can check for an ambush before approaching his apartment.
Just moments after Alec reaches the steps of his apartment, Jenna and Nick arrive on the hovercycle. Jedite stands near his apartment door, watching the area in silent vigilance. Lori and Lucas appear several blocks up the street. Lucas' jogging at a steady pace, annoyed.
“Okay,” Jenna climbs off the bike, “What are we doing now? Clues? If there even are any, I hope we find something.”
Alec steps up to the smashed doorway where Jedite waits. He activates a thermal scan, sweeping the area. “So, Jedite… looks like we got ourselves into a little pickle, eh? How do you suppose they found my place?”
Jedite shrugs.
Nick kicks down the hovercycle’s stand and dismounts. “So where do we want to start looking for clues?”
Jenna looks around. “Well, I think we should split up. Some check the apartment, the rest check outside for anything left behind. Sound good?” and walks off to investigate, “I’ll check out here. Anyone care to join me?”
Nick follows, “I’ll help you look around out here.” Lucas glares.
“Alright,” Once he catches up, she begins scanning the ground, the building walls, the trees and anything that might hold a clue. Nick does the same, searching for anything unusual: markings, dropped e‑clips, clothing, armor fragments or anything useful. But there’s nothing. Just candy wrappers. No sign of who came or what happened.
Nick calls out, “Hey! I’m going to check the roof. Maybe something’s up there.” He walks to his bike, starts it, presses a button, causing it to begin hovering. Lori finally catches up as Alec reaches his front door, which is smashed inward, frame splintered. A hand‑recorder hangs from the broken door, tape still inside. Alec sweeps the apartment quickly, yet finds no ambushers hiding anywhere. He presses play.
Static crackles as Alec scans the room, but nothing unusual except the couch where Warren was last seen.
A strong male voice, with an odd accent, comes through the recorder, “Good evening, Mr. Dallas. This is your friendly Chrome leader. I see you didn’t take our offer. We have your friend... and one other. In return for the two d-bee scum I have here, you will meet me for negotiations at the edge of town. Southwestern side. It shouldn’t be hard to find us. Now I have the job for you.”
Alec checks drawers, under the bed, then moves to the kitchen.
The recording continues, “Just for reassurance that you arrive... because you may be like me and not care about my d-bee prisoners, but I want you to know this recording released an electronic signal three seconds ago…”
Alec opens the cupboard under the sink.
“You now have five seconds to vacate your apartment alive! Bahahaha!”
He sees them immediately... Five fusion blocks bolted to the pipes, the sink belly, the cupboard walls.
“SHIT!” Alec sprints for the door and dives into the hallway. The fusion blocks detonate. Concrete, glass, water, and cinder erupt outward, showering everyone outside who was searching for clues. Alec gets to his feet, dusts himself off, and storms toward his car. “Now it’s personal!” He jumps in, slams the door, and peels out toward the meeting place.
Lucas stares at the smoking ruin. “What the hell! What’s going on now?”
Jedite had narrowly avoided the explosion by sheer luck. He'd walked down to talk to the others when the blast occurred. Now, he watches Alec tear off down the street, Nick immediately gunning his hovercycle to chase after him. Without hesitation, Jedite jumps onto his own hovercycle and joins the growing convoy. He pushes the engine hard, doing everything he can to catch up and stay with them.
Alec drives faster and faster, recklessly weaving through the streets as he heads toward the edge of town. His speed climbs with every block, anger fueling every turn. A few blocks from the destination, he finally slows down, coming to a stop to let the others catch up.
*******************************************
Alec's former Apartment: (52nd St)
Lucas leans against the wall of the building across from Alec’s ruined apartment. His voice cracks. “Man… this sucks. Warren’s captured. We could’ve died in that apartment…” He looks up at Lori and Jenna, eyes tired, “Well, let’s walk, I guess,” he continues, “It’ll probably take us twenty minutes to get to where they’re going. I say the three of us stick together, just in case…” He slowly slips an arm around Jenna’s shoulders. “Shall we go?”
“Yeah, let’s go.” Jenna wraps her arm around his waist, joining him.
Lucas glances at Lori. “Hey, what’s wrong? You’ve been quiet lately…” Jedite, Nick, and Alec are already far up the street, their vehicles shrinking into the distance. It looks like they’re slowing down near the edge of the city.
Lori answers calmly. “Simply observing. Perhaps you two should swing by your gang’s base to pick up your armor and such.”
The three continue walking to the city’s edge. Jedite, Alec, and Nick are long gone. The last glimpse of them was turning left at the outskirts. “Oh my, they’re way long gone now… hope they don’t find trouble,” Jenna says. “But hey! If they do, we’ll know ahead of time if we see it. Yeah, I think we should go get our armor. We’ll need it. I have a feeling something might happen.”
Lucas nods. “Agreed.”
“So, Lori,” Jenna asks as they walk, “Where do you come from again? And how did you end up here?” she hesitates, then adds, “I’m just curious. I’ve never really had much of a family… had to live on the streets. Now I’m finally happy with what I have because I actually have someone here for me.” Jenna holds Lucas close.
Lori brushes a strand of hair behind her ear as she speaks, revealing her pointed elven ear, “My parents came here through a rift. From what they’ve told me, their world was more magic than tech... pretty low‑tech, actually. They and their retinues ended up here and built a village in the forests west of Ishpeming. Once they realized they couldn’t go back, they started pairing off… and that’s where I come in.”
She walks steadily beside Jenna and Lucas. “We farm, hunt and trade with Northern Gun. That’s how we got high‑tech weapons and armor. But I got bored with rustic life. And once I started mastering my magic, I decided to explore.”
Lucas nods thoughtfully. “Well, I joined the gangs to protect myself and to have friends I can trust. Jenna still has her secrets, but I trust her with my life.” He glances at Lori. “So you’re a mage? That’s dangerous this close to Coalition territory.”
“I don’t walk around with a sign saying ‘Hey, I’m a mage,’” Lori replies dryly. “And I’m not planning to enter CS territory, especially with these ears. Besides, it was obvious I had major magic potential. Might as well learn to use it.”
Lucas frowns. “They have psi‑stalkers around.”
“Even without training,” Lori says, “I’d still have more magical energy than most people. I’d still be a target for stalkers.”
The trio reaches the Blue Angels’ warehouse. The earlier carnage is faint now, just scars on the building. Drake stands outside, overseeing reconstruction of stronger defenses. He looks up as Jenna, Lucas, and Lori approach, “Good to see you three. Here for your things? I heard about the Chrome’s base. Good job," he grins.
“Thanks,” Jenna replies. “Yeah, we’re here to pick up our stuff and then go find Warren. He’s disappeared, so we’re heading out to see if he’s still alive.”
Drake’s expression tightens, concern flickering across his face. He folds his arms, frowning. “Alright… any ideas what happened to him?” He flashes four fingers to one of the Blue Angels behind him. Instantly, they sprint back into the warehouse like they’ve trained for this moment their whole lives. Seconds later, Jenna and Lucas’s gear is hauled out and dropped in front of them, ready to go.
Lucas hops onto his bike, revving the engine, like he’s announcing his presence to the entire neighborhood, and grins. “Alright! Let’s rock!”
“We don’t know,” Jenna says, climbing onto her bike. “That’s what we’re going to find out," as she fires up the engine, “We ride!” As she takes off down the same path they came from, heading toward the turnoff where they last saw Warren. Lori follows on her horse, hoping and praying that at least one of them knows where they’re going.
Lucas roars up beside Jenna. “So, Jenna, what’s the plan when we get there?”
“First thing is figuring out what’s actually happening,” Jenna calls back over the wind, “I don’t want to rush into anything. It might be dangerous. All we want is Warren, so let’s not do anything we don’t have to, okay?”
“Uh… we might wanna slow down for Lori, eh?” He points his thumb backwards.
“Oh yeah!” Jenna eases off the throttle, allowing Lori to catch up.
Lucas shouts, “Ever thought about getting a better form of transportation?”
Lori lifts her chin. “I have two things to say about that. One! A horse doesn’t run out of gas in the middle of the wilderness. And two! Motorcycles can’t reproduce themselves.” She grins. “Unless you’ve managed to breed your cycle there?”
Lucas bursts out laughing. “Hah! Good one! You’ve got a point. But these things are faster.” his expression fades to tense concern, “I just got a really bad feeling."
Jenna slows to a stop, kills the engine, “What’s wrong?” she snaps, “Do you have a problem you need to resolve or what? If you don’t want to go, then you can stay right here if it bothers you that much. But I’m going.” She fires her bike back up, kicks off hard and speeds away, leaving Lucas and Lori behind.
"Jenna, WAIT!" Lucas screams as he speeds after her, leaving Lori alone. "Be careful!" The ground begins to tremble in random intervals.
Lori sputters from the dust then heads off after Lucas, shaking her head.
Lucas continues shouting, "Jenna! Wait! At least get your armor on!"
"Okay!" Jenna stops and begins rapidly donning her armor, like a scared side-girl escaping before the girlfriend shows up. Lucas stops right behind her and begins strapping his armor on allowing Lori catches up.
"Thank you! I don't wanna see anyone get hurt so thanks," Lucas replies, almost winning the race to get his armor secure.
"Yeah okay," Jenna says, "Hey, I'm sorry for being so rude to you, I didn't really mean to. I'm just getting annoyed with all the crap that' happening, okay?"
*******************************************************
Meanwhile...
The three vehicles reach the edge of town, close to a spot Alec knows. Not much farther now. Jedite hangs back about fifty feet, moving in silence, eyes scanning for danger.
Alec calls back to him, “Hey, Jedite. I need your help. We need to scout ahead to see what these assholes look like. Whoever hit my apartment did a pro job. Three fusion bombs bolted to the sink… remote detonator triggered by a recording I played. These guys are players. They found my apartment with ease.” As he approaches the outskirts, he spots multiple figures on the horizon... shapes that don’t look quite right.
Nick steps up beside him, weapon drawn. “So Alec… what do you see?”
******************************************
Jedite pushes forward, closing the distance. At about a thousand feet out, he gets a clear view: two skelebots and eight Chrome soldiers standing over Warren and another Blue Angels member.
Jedite spots that he's noticed, Just a flicker of movement, but the reaction is instant. Both skelebots snap toward him, turning in perfect mechanical unison. He's still only 150 feet away. Alec and Nick are too far behind. They raise their rifles, which are long, brutal‑looking rifles. The Chrome soldiers tense, also alerted to Jedite’s presence.
He doesn’t hesitate as he ignites his blades, silver outline flaring along the edges, and sprints straight toward the captives.
Two more Chrome soldiers erupt from the trees behind Warren and the second Blue Angel. Dust kicks up behind them as they rush to reinforce the line.
*******************************************
A moment later, Chris spots movement that's fast, low, and wrong. A silver‑lined black armored figure breaks from the horizon and charges straight toward the group. He’s already dangerously close by the time Chris and Gruber notice him from their tree line cover.
Gruber’s voice stays calm, cold. “Now we see how good they are. If the skelebots and Chrome look like they’re losing, then we strike. Understood?”
Chris nods, “Yes, sir.”
“There is an intruder to your west,” Gruber reports to the skelebots.
Chris watches the skelebots and Chrome reposition, weapons raised, preparing to deal with this unknown threat. His grip tightens on his rifle.
**************************************
Alec sees it. “Oh SHIT!” and raises his Firebreather, scope locked on the skelebot’s head, preparing to punch shots straight through its eyes.
Nick curses under his breath, “Ah shit!” as he leaps from cover, gun in hand, weaving to stay out of Alec’s line of fire, watching Jedite hit full stride, charging straight at the armored Chrome and skelebots. At the same moment, Bruce lunges upward and grabs the Chrome beside him, arm around the soldier, attempting a rear naked choke. Warren rolls away, trying to get clear.
The Chrome open fire on Jedite. He deflects nearly every laser with his laser swords. One shot slips through, slamming into his chest plate. He feels the burn as it scorches the metal. Less than half of his laser deflections bounce back at the Chrome or skelebots, yet none of them go down...
A few stray beams streak past Bruce, close, but missing him. Nick gets a few feet ahead, then pivots and runs back toward his hovercycle and the safety of cover. Alec continues shooting, resulting in two good shots into one skelebot.
Then everything shifts. Warren, writhes on the ground, flashing with energy. Bruce sees a hole burst through the helmet of the Chrome he’s strangling, blood filling up inside the helmet. Warren grins. “Like I said before, stupid assholes.”
*****************************
Gruber watches from the tree line, smiling. “Hmm… looks like they’re having trouble. Interesting d-bee they’ve got out there.” He points toward Jedite. “Wilks laser swords... and he uses them well. Two more near the city. And our two prisoners think they’re heroes now,” he glances at Chris. “I’ll let you make the call. What do you want to do?”
Chris radios out: “SAMAS One and Two, standby. Psi unit, standby. Skelebot patrol fifteen, report to coordinates NG‑17‑52.”
“Green light on SAMAS units,” the pilots respond.
“Green light on psi units,” the stalkers and Dog Boys report.
Chris turns to Gruber. “Are the Chrome expendable?”
“Expendable.”
Chris nods, “Then we let them go. They’ll think they escaped. We follow them to their base and strike. Might get their leader. And watching them fight. We can learn a lot.” He keeps his eyes firmly on Jedite, studying the silver‑armored warrior.
“Good plan. You’re a smart one, Chris.” Gruber keys the radio twice, “Chrome One. Act as the leader if you lose. Do what they say. Try to get info on the d-bee's capabilities. Understood?”
“Understood. We shouldn’t lose, sir.”
Chris continues watching the battle unfold.
**************************************
Warren looks dazed just long enough for one of the Chrome to decide that mercy is overrated. The soldier cracks him across the nose with a rifle butt, dropping him into the growing blood puddle dumping from the dead Chrome's helmet. His nose begins pouring blood, adding to the puddle as Bruce reacts like a man who’s been waiting his whole life for an excuse. He snatches the dead Chrome’s rifle.
Four other Chrome immediately rain lasers as Jedite deflects every shot like he’s auditioning for a sword‑based Cirque du Soleil. Only two of the ricochets actually hit a Chrome, and the rest zip past Warren.
The two skelebots decide Warren is the day’s special. The first misses. The second blows Warren’s left hand clean off. Warren screams and curls into a ball, reconsidering all his life choices. He's having a bad day.
Bruce heroically tries to shoot the Chrome who hit Warren, point‑blank, but the Chrome simply knocks the gun aside mid‑shot, like swatting a fly, then kicks him backwards.
The skelebots turn their attention to Jedite. He deflects one of their shots back, leaving it wobbling and sparking like a broken toaster. The other hits his armored leg, only causing a bubble in the paint. Jedite makes it to them, right in the middle of the Chrome and skelebots.
One Chrome screams into a radio, “We need backup! PLEASE!”
*********************************
Across the battlefield, near the city:
Nick screams, “DIE, BASTARDS, DIE!” as he fires wildly at the Chrome, hitting the same one Jedite’s deflected shots struck. He erupts from cover again, continuing to empty his clip.
Alec fires next, hitting a Chrome square in the chest and welding the armor shut. The Chrome looks down at his fused chest plate like, oO(Well that’s inconvenient)Oo then continues shooting.
**************************
Somewhere else, Chris gives orders: “Okay, SAMAS teams! Go in and try to make them run. SAMAS One, I want you to shoot at the D‑Bee in the black and silver armor.” Then he turns to Gruber. “Need to know if he can parry railgun rounds.”
**************************
Back on the battlefield, Jedite finally reaches perfect striking position. He laughs and becomes a blur of glowing silver against the skelebots and the Chrome who struck Warren with the enthusiasm of a man chopping vegetables. All the while, he continues deflecting lasers with careful, rapid precision, making sure none of the ricochets hit Bruce and Warren, who are, frankly, in the way. He continues laughing, because apparently this is his idea of a good time.
From across the field, Alec misses the same skelebot, that Jedite just hit, so badly the shot might as well have been aimed at a different county.
The second skelebot fires its laser rifle at Jedite, hitting him square in the abdominal armor plate. The armor looks almost toasted, like someone tried to broil it.
Nick keeps charging forward, only a quarter of the way there, reloading, then continues firing. Two shots hit a Chrome, but he reacts like someone flicked him with a rubber band.
Bruce unloads the entire clip, of his newly acquired rifle, into the Chrome in front of him. The guy splatters backward, and several stray shots trail off into the trees across the open ground, probably confusing some wildlife as trees topple. Just ahead of him, Jedite turns his blades on the second skelebot. In his flurry of laser slashes, only one slash connects as the bot hops back. Sparks fly everywhere, and parts of its inner workings are now exposed, showing off its mechanical organs.
The other skelebot fires at Jedite. He casually deflects the laser upward, sending it harmlessly into the sky, his laughter dies down to a sinister chuckle.
Alec fires another shot at the stumbling skelebot, barely missing. The Chrome finally notice Bruce. One fires at him while the others try to rush him, only to fail miserably. Something seems to be blocking them, or Bruce is just sidestepping like he’s dancing. He simply leans aside as the shot whizzes past his head. Warren passes out.
The skelebots drop their rifles in perfect mechanical sync, extending their 18‑inch vibro-blades like they’re about to carve a Thanksgiving turkey. Jedite doesn’t even flinch. He simply pivots and slashes at the nearest Chrome into four clean, separate horrifying slices. The remaining Chrome immediately decide that loyalty is overrated and scatter in every direction.
Right then, two silhouettes approach rapidly from the west, just beyond the tree line. At first glance, they look like men hovering above the ground. Then the truth hits. They’re SAMAS.
*******************************************************
The ground trembles; subtle at first, then unmistakable. Gruber stiffens. “Dammit… Northern Gun’s getting involved.” His jaw tightens. “Those are mech!”
Chris snaps toward the SAMAS units. “Can you see them? How many, and what type?” turning his attention back to Gruber, tension rising, he asks, “What do we do? Call the skelebot patrol or flee and let the remaining Chrome take the hit?”
The SAMAS pilots respond over comms:
“SAMAS One: Negative, sir. No visuals yet.”
“SAMAS Two: Same here.”
Gruber exhales sharply, “Yeah. Let the Chrome take the heat. We don’t need to be scrapping with Northern Gun.”
Chris nods, then radios again. “SAMAS units, please retreat as soon as you get visual confirmation.” then asks Gruber, “When they flee, who tracks them? PSI team or us?”
Gruber’s eyes narrow, “You, Chris. You’re smart enough. ‘Accidentally’ bump into them. Help them. I’ll send the remaining Chrome to slow them down. Understood?”
Chris hesitates. “Okay… but what about the two prisoners? They’ll remember me.”
Gruber doesn’t blink. “SAMAS One and Two... kill the prisoners.”
Chris reacts instantly, “Gruber, I’ll disable the two skelebots and then go save the kid. You’d better find somewhere else to watch the rest of the battle. I’ll follow them to their base and contact you.”
He runs towards the battle...
***********************************
Bruce’s voice crackles over the radio, raw and panicked, “Man… how in the hell are we gonna get out of this? We’re screwed!”
Jedite answers without words, just action, shearing a clean slice of metal off the skelebot; sparks scattering like embers. To the west, the two SAMAS finally open fire. Their rail guns roar, unleashing twin streams of slugs that tear the ground apart like buried dynamite. The earth erupts around Bruce and Warren. Bruce dives clear. Warren can't. The slugs pulverize his chest, killing him instantly.
The SAMAS slow, adjusting their angle for another pass, leaving a dust trail in their wake.
Jedite spots a juicer, moving with lightning speed, firing a perfect shot into the back of the skelebot’s head, stumbling it. He runs as fast as a car, blurring across the battlefield. The skelebot retaliates, slicing at Jedite, causing him to focus as he parries, turning the exchange into a deadly dance of blades. The second, more damaged skelebot, also slashes at Jedite. He blocks both blades, becoming a whirlwind against the less‑damaged bot until it looks just as ruined as its partner. The juicer drills it in the back of the head again. It continues its dance with Jedite, yet, he blocks every strike, then counters with brutal precision. He finishes the second skelebot, destroying it completely. The juicer final shot shatters the other skelebot's head. Jedite cuts the rest of it in half.
Bruce begins sprinting towards the others, heading across the battlefield just as Alec showers the area with grenades, creating a chaotic barrier between himself and Jedite. The SAMAS continue bursting rail gun rounds at Bruce. Dirt explodes around him as rail slugs buzz past his ears like giant, angry hornets. Yet, he squeezes his eyes shut, praying he makes it.
Jedite and the juicer finally notice Warren's body, realizing he's beyond saving.
Bruce keeps running as two more streams of rail rounds miss him by inches. The juicer intercepts Bruce, grabbing him mid‑run, and runs with him under his arm, like a football, toward Alec and Nick. Jedite bounds after them, closing the distance fast.
The SAMAS fire again, missing all three of them.
Alec retreats to his vehicle as well.
Nick, now on his hovercycle, whips it around, heading back into the city.
Alec fires up his Rocket, races toward the trio, then brakes sideways, door already flung open. The juicer reaches him first, shoving Bruce into the passenger seat.
“GO! We’ve got two SAM units coming!” he shouts, buckling in and praying under his breath. Alec peels out, tires screaming, leaving the battlefield behind.
*******************************************************
Jenna exhales, steadying herself. “It’s okay.” She and Lucas are done donning their armor when Nick comes barreling around the corner from several blocks up. Jenna tightens a latch. “Hey! There’s Nick. Maybe he can tell us what’s happening.”
Nick pulls up beside them, face grim. “I’ve got good news and bad news. Good news is that we found Warren and another Blue Angels member. Bad news is that Warren just died. And that’s not all. The Coalition is now part of your problems. Oh, and two SAMAS are headed this way."
Jenna’s face flushes. “Okay… so that means we turn around and leave, right? Warren’s dead and that’s all we came here for. Unless you guys think we can take on two SAMAS and whatever else is down there!”
Lucas feels the words hit him like a punch. “Damn… this sucks. Jenna’s right. No need to risk our lives now.”
“I think we’d be committing suicide if we try to fight them head‑on,” Jenna comments, “If we have to fight, we will, but we shouldn’t risk it now. It’s not worth it.”
Nick nods sharply. “No, I don’t want to fight them. But if we don’t get the hell out of here, they’ll end us.”
“Then let’s go,” Jenna says. “Where are the rest of them?”
Alec’s Dodge tears around the corner, skidding to a stop behind Nick, Jenna, Lucas, and Lori. Beside him sits Bruce and Chris, their new juicer friend.
Lucas shouts, “What got Warren?!”
“SAMAS,” Alec snaps, “Friggen A. We went out there. Fought a bunch of Chrome and two skelebots, then two SAMAS came in. We heard a big rumble and figured more were joining the party, so we bailed. They knew we'd come with heavy firepower. I need to go to militia HQ. Care to follow us?” He gestures to Chris, who recently introduced himself, “Looks like we’re in deep shit. We need to hit militia HQ, restock weapons, then take care of the Chrome once and for all. Guys, this is Chris.”
Chris stays stoic, keeping his cover. “Ooh. Free weapons and armor? I’m in.”
Nick follows Alec and Jenna toward Militia HQ, hoping for better firepower. Lori pushes her horse close to near exhaustion. Jedite leaps across rooftops when he can, sprinting when he can’t; forming a chaotic convoy toward Northern Gun Military HQ.
They arrive. Vehicles, and one very tired horse, come to a stop. Alec heads for the front doors as Lt. Green, an overweight man with a mop of dark hair and a ridiculous bushy mustache, bursts out, furious. “What the SHIT! What the hell is the Coalition doing involved in this? We don’t need a fight with that nation! What the hell happened out there?!”
Behind him stands a wide‑eyed man who looks like a Momma’s boy, also known as a crazy, evident by the canister like knobby protrusions sticking from his skull. He stares at the group with unsettlingly bright blue eyes. As the lieutenant continues his tirade, the crazy scoots behind him… and begins overdramatically mimicking him. Then, without warning, he pumps his fists beside his hips and starts doing pelvic thrusts from behind.
Alec barks, “You’ll see it in the damn report! I want to see the men who interrogated me. NOW!” Jenna steps off her bike and walks up beside Alec.
Lt. Green gestures. “Well, Mavis here is my present to you. He’s fast, smart, and maybe exactly what you need,” and steps aside, revealing Mavis, who's now standing perfectly still, trying to look innocent despite the smirk plastered across his face.
Jedite dismounts, armor scorched, “As you can tell,” he starts with a grin, “my armor has seen better days. It’s been hashed to hell doing work for you people. If you’d be so kind, I’d like it replaced so I can continue my mission.”
“Yes, yes,” Green absently waves, causing Jedite to coldly glare, “We can do that. And reload your clips," Not knowing Jedite doesn't use guns, he nods to Mavis, “Well, my boy, introduce yourself!”
Alec cuts in. “Green, this is major shit. It reeks of CS. Two skelebots, then two SAMAS. And that rumble? I’m guessing a skull transport. So I, excuse me, WE need a couple hours in the armory.”
“Fine,” Green says. “But don’t go overboard with supplies, Dallas. And for the record, the rumbling was our civil defense on the way. They only found bodies and a few destroyed bots. And yes. You’re in a pickle. We need to solve this fast before it begins a full‑scale conflict.”
Mavis nods enthusiastically, still smirking, still vibrating with chaotic energy.
"I plan to live forever. Or die trying..." Vila - Blakes 7