"I wish I would have died up there. I wish I would have never came back. I'm not a soldier, nor a hero... I'm a coward."
The Fourth Week of the Invasion of Leeds
Planet Leeds... why had I come here of all places?
Once a thriving industrial mega-complex was nothing more than an empty city with abandoned buildings and fortified structures. If you were lucky, you would happen across a couple of low-life thugs looting whatever they could in hopes to still make a profit.
Most of the civilian population had been moved off world prior to the invasion. The ones left refused to abandoned their possessions, praying that this all would just blow over. That the war would never be fought on the ground. Of course, that all changed when they launched a massive offensive against the battered Armed Forces in space.
The first boots to hit the ground were shock troops, backed up by mechanized walkers. I remember the day as if it were yesterday...
The fumes of burning oil stung his eyes, nostrils, and throat as he moved with ease through the abandoned streets. A quick glance down at his watch gave him all the information he needed to know. It wasn't much longer until he arrived at his destination - and a way to get back to the personal war that he had begun to wage against those that wanted him dead.
Though his thoughts never distracted him from the troubling reports he heard on the news. They broke through. They have conquered Leeds, and it was only a matter of time before the initial ground invasion began.
It was more imperative for him to get back into space in order to find and rescue his fiancee, rather than getting caught in what could possibly turn into a decade long insurrection against occupational forces. Besides... he was a pilot, not a soldier, and if he got stuck here...
That's when he came to a sudden stop, catching himself on a nearby railing to ensure that he didn't topple over. Each gulp of air was just as painful and disgusting as the last, but something was a midst. His entire body throbbed in pain but he forced himself to stand as perfectly still as possible. He turned his head towards the smog filled sky, and saw nothing.
Gripping the railing tightly, he took a step to closer to the railing as he continued looking skyward. With his ship only a couple of more kilometers away, why was he still here, and why was he still looking at the smog filled sky of Planet Leeds?
"Come on, it was nothing. Pull yourself together." He wheezed in reassurance underneath the scarf that covered most of his face.
Regaining his composer, he started off in the direction of his ship. That was when multiple loud explosions rippled across the night sky, which caused him to halt immediately in his tracks once again. His gaze shot skywards once more. "I've seen some weird things in my life that made me question the existence of a god, or gods. But if there is such a being... please tell me that, that wasn't what I think it is."
He recognized the explosions all too well as being a sonic boom. Whatever it was that was falling from the sky was falling fast enough to break the sound barrier, and if it was falling that fast, it was probably deadly.
Barely visible through the thick smog, he could make out what appeared to be multiple orange lights. His pulse increased, and every fiber of every aching muscle in his body told him to run. He knew it would be futile if it was what he thought it was... but the thought of never seeing his fiancee again drove him into a hard sprint down the street.
With every skyward glace, every barely dodged and painful encounter with abandoned cars, the objects grew closer... and brighter.
"May the Queen have mercy on my soul, as my foes will not."
The ground shook violently.
Windows shattered.
Abandoned cars screamed in agony.
Austin opened his eyes slowly, blinking to clear his vision as best as he could, only to find himself sprawled out against the pavement of an alley, the shock-wave of the impact having knocked him into a nearby alley way. Wheezing heavily, he moved painfully slow as he collapsed into a sitting position.
An audible ring filled his right ear as he started out into the street, unable to comprehend what just happened, or why he was still alive. He allowed himself a moment to recover before finally getting to his feet, staggering out of the alley and into the street.
In the direction he had came from and he saw a thick cloud of dirt beginning to settle, it looked to at least a hundred meters down the road from his current position, and it unnerved him as he watched. Curiosity began to overtake whatever senses were still functioning at this moment in time as he forced himself towards the dust cloud.
As he drew closer, he could begin making out a cylinder object sticking out from the street, as well as a humanoid figure moving around close by.
"Hey!" He wheezed loudly behind the scarf. "That's an un-exploded ordinance, move away from it before you get us both killed."
He could see the person freeze suddenly. Something here wasn't right...
The masked man slowly turned around, his hand resting on the hilt of a sword that he begun pulling out of it's sheath. "Well... well... well... what do we have here?" The man spoke, a hidden smirk behind the mask he wore as he swiped the sword towards his right side, twirling it slowly through the air. He began taking slow steps towards Austin.
Austin swallowed hard behind his scarf, taking a single step backwards, his eyes danced across the uniform, spotting the emblem of the Royal Navy almost immediately. The assumption that something was wrong about this very situation was indeed a correct one... this soldier wasn't a normal soldier. His voice was familiar, and his posture. He had seen it somewhere before.
The man continued to approach...
"Surely... you wouldn't be talking to me, would you, Monsieur?" The man spoke, twirling the sword once last time before holding the sword straight out towards Austin, using it to make a gesture towards the ground. "On your knees... peasant."
"I'll only kneel for the Queen..." Austin blurted out, taking another step back.
"Well, dear boy, the Queen isn't here, now is she? Oh, and soon enough she'll be bowing before me. Begging me to spare her..." The man replied, a sly grin hidden away by the re-breathing mask, he lowered his sword-arm, allowing the blade to drag slowly against the smog covered road as he continued his approach, closing the distance rapidly. "Now kneel!" He shouted, his tone commanded that he should be obeyed.
"Prince Joseph DeFrance in the flesh. I thought I would never see the day." Two more steps back as he narrowed his eyes on his opponent. Austin knew it to be a futile effort, but his hand reached behind him and gripped the hilt of the combat knife . "Nothing more than a spoiled rotten brat, who... when he can't get his way... spills the blood of innocent women and children. What're you going to do? Kill me the way you killed that girl on live holo-vision?"
"My... aren't we clever. I do have to say that was one of my more crowning achievements, and I take pride in knowing that my enemies have seen that video. Exactly how I wanted it to happen." Joseph retorted as he came to a complete stop. "You might as well admit defeat now... you'll never get close enough to touch me with that knife, Bretonian."
"Sorry, I'd prefer to die a hero, then kneel before you." "It's just us. The winner writes the history as it's told, this encounter will be lost in the sands of time. You... will have died for nothing." "Dying a free man than serving at the feet of a tyrant is more of an accomplishment for me. I'm a Bretonian... I will fight and die for this nation." He growled, unsheathing the knife from behind him.
Joseph observed the Bretonian before him take a combative stance, revealing the knife he had. This caused Joseph to let out a soft chuckle, sliding the sword on the ground before twirling it to where the blade followed the length of his arm. He brought his free hand up and waved his fingers mockingly...
"Try not to die too quickly. It's been a while since I've had a real challenge." "You won't live to see the sun rise." "I beg to differ..."
Austin flung himself against his enemy with what little renewed energy he had, slicing away violently at the air in mad randomized strikes, all while Joseph gracefully dodged the attacks. Occasionally the two blades met as the two moved in unison to what would appear to be an orchestrated dance.
Studying each and every move, Joseph smirked to himself when he found an opening, he reached out with his free hand and caught the wrist of Austin's slashing arm, gripping it tightly as he brought the pummel of his sword straight into Austin's ribs, then swiped one of Austin's legs out from under him, causing him to be thrown towards the ground.
Austin coughed violently, while trying to suck in air. Grunting loudly as a boot slammed into his stomach, causing him to lose his grip on the knife, and rolling himself over on his back.
"You're pathetic." Joseph said as he kicked the knife away, and re-sheathing his blade. He turned back to look at the man laying on the ground, "Incorrect stance and posture. Leaving yourself open to such easy counter attacks. If I was trying you would've been dead when you first lashed out. I'm not going to kill someone who can't fight..."
Joseph slowly removed the re-breather from his face, coughing as the toxic air entered his lungs. Though he felt it was necessary as he knelt down above the Bretonian, a smirk crossing his face as he removed Austin's dog-tags. "A pilot with the Bretonian Armed Forces? Commander Austin Rodney Goodman." Joseph read outloud, shaking his head lightly before looking down at Austin again, "I look forwards to the next time we meet. Maybe you'll actually provide me a challenge."
Joseph got back to his feet with ease, sliding the re-breather back over his mouth and drawing in a deep breath, once it was fastened he started towards the drop pod he came from, reaching inside and pulling out two objects.
Austin slowly tried getting to his feet, only to collapse back on the ground as Joseph re-approached, dropping a spare re-breather on the ground just out of reach.
"Follow us, and my men will kill you." Joseph commented as three soldiers de-cloaked in front of Joseph.
I had followed him for what seemed like days, all out of curiosity as he looked very familiar. I couldn't exactly place it as I've been out of touch with society for quite sometime, off doing my own thing. But that's another story for another time...
I witnessed the fight that happened between him and this... Gaul, and I was surprised - honestly surprised - that the Gaul allowed this man to live. Of course, I laid low during the entire conflict, call me a coward... sure. But I'm a bloody pirate, I ain't got time to get caught up in fighting someone I can't beat.
So I waited for the shock troops to disappear before making my approach.
Austin squeezed his eyes closed tightly, groaning as he rolled over to his side. The re-breather was just out of reach. Fresh air was literally inches away from him... and he lacked the strength, the will power, to actually crawl over. His body sore, battered, and bruised.
For the first time, he felt truly afraid. Truly alone. His fiancee kidnapped, his friends believing that he had died in a fire that engulfed his home. Another tally to be thrown up on a board in some Admirals office describing how many were lost in the war. An insignificant variable, and the sad thing about all of this? He lacked the strength to shed a tear.
Whatever strength that was left, was used in an effort to keep his hand hovering over the ground, a futile attempt to reassure himself that he will make it.
He was gone by the time, sorry... I should clarify, he was unconscious by the time I reached him. I felt bad for waiting that long, but I had to be sure that no one remained in the area.
As I approached him, I couldn't hold back my excitement, nor my nervousness. He looked very familiar, and I knew exactly where I had seen him from. The various holo-vids years ago when I thought heroes existed. I'll be the first to admit... I was very... very excited to be meeting the Hero of Bretonia. Of course... it should have been under completely different circumstances.
Whoops...
"Yeh... right, should've gotten 'ere sooner. Maybe ye' could've walked with me. Whaddaya weigh? Two hundred pounds... heh, silly question, don't answer it." The woman muttered as she knelt down next to the unconscious man, and rolling him over onto his back before taking both of his arms and pulling him up to his feet. It was a difficult task that she attempted multiple times over, and even struggled with as she eventually dragged him over towards the nearest building, which thankfully, now had windowless doors.
Although it took her two hours and a half, she eventually pulled him far enough inside, up a flight of stairs, broke into an abandoned apartment, and successfully hoisted him up into the bed.
Huffing heavily, she stepped backwards until she was pressed up against the wall, proud of herself and her accomplishment, and briefly considered herself a hero moments before she slid down into a sitting position. "Yeah... I think I'll just stick t' stealing credits. Ain't cut out for this crap."
I sat in the corner for what felt like days, though constantly checking the watch that I had slipped off of his arm and placed on my own only showed the hours ticking by slowly. I'm actually happy that I've trained myself to stay awake for hours on end... after all, staking out a place to steal from was practically an all day endeavor for a lone Buccaneer.
Granted... I did doze off.
Vision blurred, he was met with a dark ceiling upon slowly opening his eyes. Blinking a couple of times cleared the fog from his vision, though it did not rid the darkness that enveloped the room he found himself in.
His body ached as he slowly sat up, using his arms to prop himself up at an acute angle. The cool soot free air was a relief as he drew in shallow breaths - remembering what had happened in the encounter. It was only when he turned his head to look around the room did he see a woman curled up against a corner of the room.
The girl looked exhausted, judging by how she had apparently passed out waiting for him to wake. She had risked her own life to save his. A complete stranger.
Once again, he escaped death's grasp, that in-itself becoming more than a habit. He looked at her and didn't feel thankful at all, because of him, she was now likely to die, and he knew it. Gritting his teeth together, he mustered his strength and began to slide out of the bed.
Getting off the planet was still a priority, and his mind had refocused on his previous plan. If his ship was still intact, he would use that to get off of Leeds. Information about Joseph conducting and participating in planetary operations would be vital for the resistance, and the Armed Forces. Of course, relaying that information directly to the Admiralty would completely ruin his faked death.
No one to rely other than himself.
He gave one last look over at the sleeping girl and shook his head lightly as he stepped through the door, quietly and carefully closing it behind him. "It's better off for you if I'm not around. At least you won't be killed by my choices." He whispered as soon as the door was closed.
The re-breathing mask he had acquired certainly came in handy on his continued trek through the abandoned streets of this particular section of industrialized Leeds. The air around him became increasingly warm as the sun's rays penetrated through the thick smog.
Austin paused briefly after winding his way through the streets, looking back in the general direction that he had came from. While lacking his watch, and judging by the position of the sun. He guessed he had traveled for roughly an hour or two.
His stomach growled, his mouth and throat were parched. Though that was the least of his worries. Distant artillery explosions grew louder and louder. Now he was in range to hear small arms fire, along with fire being returned. All of which now seemed a mere two to three blocks away from his current position.
His only option was to push through the fighting, any detour would tire him out even more, and if he was lucky... friendlies would be holding down the space port.
It was early morning, with the sun just cresting over the horizon - filling the dirty sky with it's orange light. It was another day on hell. Each day, fighting has decreased as the Gauls pushed the Bretonian loyalists further and further apart, spreading them into small guerrilla forces, and it's been this way for at most a year. Rumors had it that there was still a Bretonian strong hold somewhere to the north, but an army of conquerers stood between them and where he was.
Another morning, one that he slowly opened his eyes, grabbing his re-breather before making his way down a flight of stairs, meeting up with a small crowd. Ten or so people stood around a table with an old fashion map laid out across it, no one was talking as he approached. A young child - fifteen maybe - stood guard near the entrance carrying a sub-machine gun in his arms. No one smiled at him, no one greeted him... to everyone here - he was just another soldier fighting the invasion. He wasn't a hero, wasn't a fugitive, and wasn't a traitor. His unkempt appearance certainly helped to disguise him, though he had doubted that anyone would actually care anymore this long into the war. His hair had grown down to his shoulders, and rather than being shaved he sported a messy beard and mustache.
He passed the group around the table, picking up his rifle that was laying against a nearby wall and slung it over his shoulder, his motion was as rigid as he made his way towards the child. "Jacob. You can get something to eat, I'll take watch." He said as he placed a hand on the child's shoulder. Jacob looked away from the streets and up towards the man, before giving a gentle nod and moving away. "Good kid... it's a shame that it has came to this." He muttered as he took up position by the door, leaning against the frame of the door and donning his re-breath.
His eyes rested upon bodies strewn across the street, casualties of the war - mostly Bretonian - that no one had yet to come back for. That no one would come back for, and it seemed to be a matter of time that he too, was going to be one of those bodies. Everything he had dealt with in the past - none of it had compared to this particular struggle. Countless of nights went by that he had wished he died at the hands of the Kusari. That he was never mysteriously released from Prison. That the Kithe girl had actually managed to get her hands on him and gutted him... that the Invictus was destroyed during the initial invasion of Gallia. That his best friend had actually killed him before they fled from Bretonia, or that he had actually died in the fire that claimed his Cambridge home.
Death's embrace actually scared him, not that it never has, but this time it was hitting him harder and harder every passing moment - a constant tug on his mind. He had slowly turned his head inwards towards the gathered crowd, it was these quiet moments before the storm that were the most sincere moments in his life. This was when his eyes settled on a bloodied and beaten man who was bound in handcuffs as well as gagged, his Royal Navy uniform ripped and stained with dried blood.
It was in these moments that he wished the events of the past few years had been of a different outcome. Kusari and Bretonia coming together as allies and stopping the Gaul invasion in it's tracks, forcing an uneasy alliance into place with the Crown Princess but a truce non-the-less. A retired soldier coming home to a wife and children on Cambridge after years of warfare... all that was merely a dream and a wish that would never come true.
Everyone had it in the back of their minds that they weren't going to live to see the Bretonian flag flying high above their cities. Just like he knew he wasn't going to survive this trial, he was going to die here... it was merely a matter of when.
"We need to leave." He spoke up, loud enough for the others to hear him, the moment he spoke up a few of the loyalists had turned towards him. "Our scouts haven't returned, and it's only a matter of time before a frog patrol arrives in the area, if they aren't already in position."
He remembered his training for urban warfare on Leeds a few years back - before he became a pilot, before he was a traitor, hell... before any of this was a reality. Everything they were doing was wrong, absolutely wrong, and it should have cost them something by now. His eyes wryly scanned the surrounding buildings and rooftops, looking for anything that seemed out of the ordinary, anything that the sun silhouetted that wasn't a static object, natural object.
Urban warfare at it's finest.
Austin remained a few paces behind the rest of the unit, the hostage in arms reach ahead of him. His hand gripped tightly to the sling of his rifle. It was only a matter of time until someone, somewhere realized what had happened to this particular hostage. Though for the mean time, Austin was quietly thankful that no one recognized the man they were transporting. Had they any inkling of who he was, Austin was sure that the man would have been gutted and left to rot by now.
The point-man, the woman from before, held up a fist up in the air suddenly - signaling for the rest of the formation to come to a complete half. A few, Austin included - despite being in the back - began to slowly and carefully unslung their rifles, brandishing them in a ready position.
The air was unusually still, no movement, no sound other than the wind rushing through nearby exposed piping. Something was wrong, Austin figured that she might have spotted a Gaul patrol ahead of whom yet to spot them, of course the woman remained nervously still, having taken a single step forwards. The woman, Tara, slowly turned in the groups direction her face was flushed white, tears streamed from her bloodshot eyes. Her mouth opened as she began to shout... her words and life lost in a single, slow motion moment as her body was shredded instantly from underneath her extended foot. Shrapnel shot up from the ground, scattering in a five foot radius around the epicenter.
Instinctively, Austin had rushed forwards, tackling the hostage to the ground.
He came around mere seconds later, though the explosion had deafened him, causing him to be in a shell shocked state as he lifted his head up slowly. People had paniced and took cover wherever they could, expecting hostile fire to come in from down the street. The two closet to Tara... were unfortunately caught in the shrapnel discharge, one of which slowly collapsed to their knees, holding their neck before slumping over in a pool of their own blood.
Distant shouting could be heard just peaking over the ringing in his ears, his eyes however were glued on the bodies ahead of him. The shouting grew louder and louder with each passing moment before Austin had looked towards the shouting. "Austin! Austin! Come on we got to go!"
It was Jacob.
As Austin collected himself quickly, he pushed off of the hostages back, grabbing the man by his jacket's collar and dragging the man to his feel. Though as soon as the Gaul was on his feet, Austin was met suddenly by the back of the man's head. The hit caused Austin to stumble backwards, letting out a shriek of pain and confusion. He brought his arm up to block what seemed to be a round-house kick unleashed by the hostage, thankfully this hit had missed him completely as he continued stepping backwards - desperately trying to get out of his attackers range, it only took a few more steps until Austin was able to pull his side-arm, discharging a single round into the Gaul's leg... except... the shot had missed and actually richotted off of the ground, striking the Gaul in his right shoulder - sending him reeling back, more out of shock than anything else.
"I am not in the mood to deal with this right now. Come on." Austin snarled, grabbing the Gaul by the wounded shoulder and yanking him to his feet. "Should be damn happy you're needed alive."
They hadn't moved fast enough. The explosion had alerted the nearby Gallic patrol, and they where soon coming round a corner, maybe a hundred yards from their position. It was the sound that reached them first though. Not the clicking of rifles, not the crunch of gravel under the Gallic boots, but the sound of APC's, and tanks, moving closer to pacify the locals, or any resistance soldiers they might contain.
It wasn't until the Tanks arrived that the fight began. As Austin looked up, he would notice the wall ahead, bursting into a cloud of dust and rubble, then the familiar sight of a Bretonian Armed Forces walker. The same seemed to be happening from a few buildings, walkers moving out and using their lighter weaponry to disable some of the APC's. From behind them filed a number of troops. Limited, untrained, sloppy. They where likely Army, mixed with civilians brave enough to stay behind. Then, from the already destroyed buildings came the tanks. Only 4, but highly skilled. They moved quickly, disabling the Gallics, and forming a secured area. In the distance, artillery shells could be heard exploding, the smoke trail coming from the Gallic outpost.
One of the soldiers moved forwards
Corporal Morgan, at your service. Your safe no-
He stopped. Goodman realised he was looking in his direction. Moving between him, and his prisoner. Morgans hand went to his ear, a few quiet words, then he moved forward
If you could come with me sir.
It didn't take long to arrive at the makeshift command centre. It was basically an old army jeep, with a shortwave radio mounted to the back, and a medical truck near by. At the centre stood a slightly larger man, his arm displaying the "Major General" insignia. As he turned, his marvelous mustache blowing in the light breeze, he locked eyes on Austin. Drawing his pistol, he moved forward.
The Infamous Austin Goodman.. This must be my lucky day..
The sudden arrival of Armed Forces resistance fighters was a relief, and a shock ordeal even for himself. Once the brief engagement had ended, Austin kept his eyes locked on the Corporal that had introduced himself. It was until he heard his name that he would make a semi-half turn towards a man approaching him with a drawn pistol. The man was gruff, unkempt - clearly Army and carried himself as an officer of the Armed Forces - denoted by the Major General insignia on the arm of the battered uniform.
Without must hesitation, Austin took a defensive stance - aiming the pistol towards the approaching man. This had caused some of the trained soldiers around to snap their rifles into a firing position - all of which were aimed at Austin. "Those three words together in the same sentence tends to lead towards a very bad situation for yourself. Stop where you are, holster your sidearm and identify yourself. Or I will make sure that this is not your lucky day." He replied sternly, well aware that he was in no authority to demand anything with the rifles aimed down at him.
Though if he had to go down fighting his own people once again. So be it.
