Brine

[Geno]

- - VI - - EVERYTHING BURNS. FIRES RAGE, NOXIOUS FUMES. TWO ALONE REMAIN; WAGING A WAR WITHOUT REASON. ...PERHAPS, ALL FOR A GOOD LAUGH.

“...Just... GIVE... UP ALREADY. "

The ship jumped out of hyperspace. The assault had begun.

Marines donning blue armours rained bolts of laser fire upon shocktrooper marines, who were notably donning red blast armours. The fight was without recourse and without quarter, as the crimson shocktroopers advanced and deployed charges without any safety or concern for their own lives, driving their adversaries into deeper and darker pits. They battled through the decks and the hallways, waging war against one another throughout interminable conflicts, taking shelter behind crates and barricades, allowing their rifles and their grenades do the talking for them. Though I couldn't stick around my compatriots, I had to slip through the firefights in order to plant some of the charges myself.

The war wasn't over yet.

Though the brunt of the fight later moved towards the Cryogenics deck, I was left alone at the hangars, to fend off against one of their strongest lieutenants.

Amsel.

I unloaded five, six, maybe eight or nine whole blue bolts of burning plasma on her. She was nimble, and she was able to deflect and dodge my blows through her sheer inhuman reflexes. But even she had to reach her breaking point eventually.

I was definitely close to reaching mine, anyhow. My brows were soaked with sweat, and blood poured from my shoulder, trickling down my arm and onto the floor. She really messed me up. My grip was becoming more and more shaky, and the corners of my vision were beginning to blur. I had to keep her away from me by keeping distance between us, no matter what.

Her pale, glowing, aloof artificial eyes glared at me with righteous fury. She walked onwards.

“Kristoff, siding with them will not avail you anything."

Focus. Remember her training.

I had to put her down quickly, before more oxygen would be drained away from the already numerous leaks in the Sleeper Ship. I had to end this quickly, and throw myself into the closest escape pod... and... and then...

I aimed again. Nine bolts. The pistol's chamber hissed, emitting smoking vapors, trailing in the cold and failing atmo.

A dodge, a swivel, a parry, a deflection. It's as if I was a slow motion Plasmaball pitcher, and she was a world-renowned batter.

A snarl. She advanced quickly, lunging her plasma spear in my direction, ready to impale me in an instant.

I rolled to the right, narrowly dodging a thrust against my temple. I aimed again.

“GOTCHA."

A single bolt landed on her side, making her poised stance recoil, making her grasp her now smoldering side in screaming agony. Synthetic white blood poured out of her searing wound. She recoiled, as she looked at me with sheer hatred in her eyes. I was just about to put an end to this conflict.

...But before I could pull the trigger again, a jab from her spear sent me careening into the floor.

Bolts of electricity coursed through me, making me feel every single arc and volt twitch across my spine and my arm, as if a million blue tendrils wormed and ripped me apart from the inside, making me clutch my chest in pain, making me see white stars in the back of my vision.

“Ghhh-- ghhkhh... ah-- wh--"

My breath quickened. I had to react, quickly, immediately. Now.

“I've... done everything for you. And... this... is how you repay me?! They want to doom us all, don't you understand?!"

She advanced, whilst gripping her side with her sharp metallic fingers. A model, built to protect, and now, to cause unfettered destruction.

My left arm raised up against her advances, instinctively.

“Just... give it up, Kris. We need the keycard, more than you do. And the only way you're leaving here is through an airlock, along with the rest of your bastard friends."

AUTH = KRSTF
ICD-10-PCS-BX2
ICD-9-PSM-CHMBR = ONLINE
ICD-8-CM = ONLINE

EMRGUSE DICOMINFO ('ARM_001.DCM');
[ TARGET LOCKED ]

“Give up, traitor."

My artificial eye gleamed - I could feel it sear and burn inside my eye socket, as the targeting system locked onto her chest, completing the final trajectory calculations.

I growled.

“Never."

A bolt of plasma was unleashed from my arm, burning away my entire prosthetic hand in an incandescent instant, unleashing a large bolt of condensed plasma against her chassis.

A curtain of smoke. Ringing ears.

That had to have hit her.

I slowly pulled myself up, leaning on the stump of my charred prosthesis. That was my only, last, best shot I could've had at finally ending that demon's life.

My breath quickened. A pair of white eyes stared at me from behind the wide scorch mark on the ground.

No. No, it can't be.

“YOU CAN'T ESCAPE JUSTICE."

Her damaged figure walked towards me, with a great chunk of her lower torso missing, leaking white blood. Grasping her spear, gleaming with sheer white high-conductivity energy.

I reached for my pouch. The last of my stims. A small canister, gleaming with a silver glow under the ruined hangar bay's bright lights. I jabbed it onto my thigh, trying to strike my femoral vein with shaky hands. The concoction immediately spread its effects throughout my failing body, jolting me awake for the last time.

“Hmm. That was the last of your stimulants, wasn't it."

I reached for my thermal machete. It began to whir to life, as the incandescent blade quickly gained heat, dissipating it behind my hand's movements with a thin smoky trail.

“Nnrgh... maybe so... but let's see who's going to drop dead first. You, me, or the Hispania?"

Her head tilted, producing a taunting smirk to provoke me.

“We shall see about that."

I charged at my former ally with my sharp edge, aiming with a slash for her chest. But her spear was quicker, as she deflected my blow with ease. And another, and another, and yet another, met with parries, and deflections and blocks.

My heart was on the verge of rupturing.

“Y-you... took everything from us. You took our jobs... y-you took our fields... a-and you took my friends!"

The demon's jet black hair swiveled, as she looked around herself, almost appearing prideful of the senseless slaughter of the Coalition shock troopers around the hangar. Slain red marines laid near the stairs, as they all bled to death by the hands of this monster.

“They were your captors. I've freed you."

A sharp finger pointed towards the gleaming red keycard in my breast pocket.

“...That's what I truly believed, until I found out that you've got one of the Alliance's Keys."

The searing pain in my bleeding shoulder returned. I tapped it with my handless prosthetic.

“You're truly an ingrate. We've fought them together for TWO YEARS, and YOU, of all people, had to be an agent for them?!"

“Glory ever to the Coalition, you dog."

I lunged again, and again, and again. An uppercut, a swing, a thrust. Deflected, one and all. Worthless efforts.

Until...

“Wide open!"

A jab from the dull end of her spear. It was far too quick for me to predict.

Another, and another, unloading arcs of lightning into my body. I could barely keep my balance, let alone a solid grip on my weapon. My thermal blade fell to the ground, hissing and seething in silence.

The sharp end of her now turned-off spear was aimed at my neck. Sharp, gleaming, and threatening to carve a fatal wound to end it all.

“...And now... you're done."

I let out a short sigh, raising my hands up in defeat with a smile. I shook my head in mild disbelief.

“Well... shit. You know, you always somehow suspiciously win every time you pick a melee build."

“Well, that's what we're here to work on. Besides, you're not doing yourself any favors by doing these bravados by using... what, a machete? You're running a machete as a ranged build?"

“Well, yeah! I mean, it deals burning damage, doesn't it?"

Amsel would pinch the bridge of her nose, unable to contain a smirk.

“No, you dummy. You want to use this on unarmored human targets! Look at me, I'm all made of plasteel and durasteel polymer alloys. I mean, you would know, you're my damn mechanic of all things, for chrissakes."

I rolled my eyes, returning her a wry smile.

“Well, gee. Sorry I forgot to revise chemistry before doin' this."

Amsel would tilt her head, returning a sincere smile.

“Well... wanna try again? I've got some more time to waste with you."

“Alright, sure. I'll try to remember where I went wrong this time around. Go for it."

She grasped her spear and flourished it, before lunging the sharp end in my jugular, twisting it, and making me cough blood.

As my body fell limp on the floor and my consciousness faded in the back of my eyes, I could feel my warm blood pouring from my neck, forming a crimson pool under my face.

The wound gave off a cozy sensation of peace, as if I had just fallen into a very peaceful Sunday afternoon nap.

...This is all starting to feel a touch too realistic.