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X: Be My Guest

Terminus: Cargo Docks

Oct-19th, 2034, 08:34

The Pilot

Rooker was currently in the process of finishing up some last-minute, preflight items and running the weight and balance numbers one final time. Much as he was happy to see that his Advent Burger contraband hadn't thawed out as a result of his quick wit the evening before, his stubbornness had unfortunately won out and he was now including their weight into the calculations as well. The plus side of his dropship being impounded by the good captain was that Bosco never got a chance to collect on their deal, but this also meant that they would be close to riding the aft loading limit all the way to their objective. Nevertheless, he'd rather lose it all there than as the result of some scheming, resistance dock worker.

Unfortunately, the girl was going to be a bit squirrely in the air because of his decision. Luckily, he was loading a bunch of humans and not a full squad of Advent soldiers. Damn mutons always screwed with his numbers back when he flew freight for a living. Also, standard weights were a godsend and made things a bit easier on his end.

After he sealed off his contraband from unwanted attention, the pilot made his way from the back of the dropship to the closest set of bay doors, where a red and white plush cobra currently sat. Suffice to say, Rose had been quite upset about the mission briefing and his eventual departure from her containment cell. In fact, she had dragged her tail afterwards and then refused to let him out of her protective wall of coils until the captain allowed her to return to her cave to eventually present him with this gift. She also made sure that Katarina was tuned in to what she was doing. Ultimately, these were her conditions and she wanted him back in one piece with snake plushie in hand. The viper had become so possessive all of the sudden, especially upon hearing that Katarina was going to be his honorary First Officer (FO) for the mission.

Nevertheless, Rooker picked up the large plushie in his hands, trying to estimate how much the dang thing weighed, eventually figuring that he'd just add an extra five pounds to the numbers and call things good enough—they would be in limits with some in reserve. As for Rose, he offered his favorite serpent a parting hug and calmed her down by promising her that he'd be home by lunchtime. Again, the viper made sure that Katarina was watching their interactions the entire time.

As for the captain, she was currently filling in the recovery team with the latest information before their departure. In short, a pair of sweepers had disappeared the night prior and a search team was eventually sent out once Terminus turned up nothing within its walls. To make matters worse, one of them happened to be the son of the late Dr. Simons. The pilot had received more than a few cold stares as he made his way to the landing pad.

He had lost more friends than gained them over the years as a result of his relationship with Rose. Thankfully, he had more contacts within the Switchyard than he knew what to do with at times, yet each served their purpose and he always kept note on what the inhabitants of Terminus thought of the mysterious red and white serpent that had come to live somewhere within its walls. Over the years, he even had the chance to spread some wild tales of his own as he traversed the marketplace. Of course, his spin on the supposed legends always painted the serpent in a kinder light.

Once the search team that was sent out stopped reporting in, alarm bells were set off and a small task force departed in another dropship earlier that morning. The latest reports suggested that said dropship was overrun by the Lost and the survivors were held up on the outskirts of the city center, nearest the waterfront district. Unfortunately, they had also apparently been forced to hunker down in one of the many designated dead zones scattered throughout the city—yet another invasion gift that the occupants of the city were forced to deal with should they choose to traverse the surface.

He was also informed that both of their Skyrangers had departed alongside Vahlen, but was not told what they were ultimately carrying onboard.

With the third and final dropship in a state of disarray due to maintenance, and the only other pilot indisposed, the task fell to him to see the mission through. As for the other pilot, he neglected to dig for additional details, mostly because the other man had a history of waking up in some back alleyway of the warrens after visiting one of the many brothels dotting what had come to be known as the Red Line District. If Rose ever got out of her containment cell, he'd be quick to make sure that she avoided such tunnels within Terminus—she was scarred enough as it is.

Unfortunately, potentially fending off the Lost meant that Rooker had to switch to a suppressed Colt 1911 for a sidearm. While he loved Old Slabsides to death, he much preferred the stopping power of an Anaconda or the one-two punch of her lighter Python siblings. He always got shit for carrying around such revolvers, but each kick made him feel more alive and he'd long since accepted that he had an affinity for giant snakes.

“You're really bringing that thing with you?"

“Huh."

The pilot looked down to see Captain Fahlström making her way up the ramp to his position.

“That plush cobra of hers; just throw it to the side and grab it when you come back," Katarina suggested.

“And run the risk of her favorite stuffed animal going missing? Nah, I've put a little more thought into it and am going to promote him to the FO seat since he helped with the preflight while you slacked off in the corner."

“Overruled, and wait…him?" the captain questioned.

Rooker's smile widened even further as he lifted up Rose's prized possession.

“Julius Squeezer, an astute acquaintance of David Hisselhoff and Fangus Khan."

“But those are boy names and the thing was supposed to be made in the likeness of her. Also there aren't any male vipers left that we know of."

If only Rose knew about the superstitions about her within Terminus. As with anything inside this underground labyrinth, the plush cobra carried with it quite a number of connotations. Of course, the viper had her own uses for what he thought were adorable figurines.

“The names were based on humans that she experienced and ultimately respected during her quest for knowledge while growing up," Rooker clarified.

“Genghis Khan?" Kat raised an eyebrow and frowned at the thought.

“Eh, I was more worried about her unwavering obsession with David Hasselhoff at the time. Hell, she practically begged me for a month straight to go outside of Terminus and find her another season of Baywatch."

“You let her watch Baywatch as a budding adolescent?"

“Yeah, she wanted to learn the proper basking and rescue techniques should the need arise in real life. Though, she didn't much care for the sharks and earthquakes, wanting to hold hands during what she defined to be the scary bits. Ha, she would even shove her snout into the crook of my neck if she got too frightened."

The woman gave him a look that he failed to put meaning to before she brought her own hand up to the bridge of her nose.

“Never mind, just throw David Hisselhoff in the jump seat and our little problem will be solved."

“His name is Julius Squeez—"

“I'm going to start squeezing the life out of you if you keep this up, Rooker! I should've gone door to door and confiscated those damn things a long time ago. They're everywhere now and have become nothing but a thorn in my side."

Rooker moved the stuffed cobra out of the woman's reach and towards relative safety as she threw her arms up in annoyance.

“Hmm. Perhaps Rose was right about what she said earlier."

“About me? Save it, I've decided that I don't care anymore."

“Reeeally now? Not sure that I believe that, but suit yourself. I've got all of my stuff loaded up and everything checks out as far as preflight inspection items, so I'll get Julius situated in the crew cabin and then get things fired up." With that, Rooker turned and stepped up into the cargo bay of his repurposed Advent dropship.

“Wait!"

“Yes, Kat?" Rooker glanced back with a smirk on his face.

“What did she actually say? I'm…still curious." The captain nearly whispered the last part after she looked back to make sure that none of her guards were eavesdropping on their conversation.

The other officer only winked and made his way into the cabin of the modified dropship, all the while whistling the theme song to Baywatch as he carefully secured the red and white cobra to the pullout seat. He then grabbed a laminated sheet of checklist items and began to go through the motions as he secured the control gauntlet to his wrist and set the large helmet on his opposite knee.

Adrian had quite literally lost his lunch shortly before touchdown the other day, so it fell to him to clean up the other man's mess before departure. However, he'd pick the doctor any day of the week over Katarina, because the woman hated being told what to do and relinquishing control, especially to the likes of him. Also, she had a suppressed fear of heights, yet tried to play it off as anything but. However, Rooker flew enough people around in his life to pick up even the subtlest of signs immediately.

Thankfully, it didn't take long for everyone else to file into the dropship, with the captain the last one onboard after a final headcount—six including themselves. It would definitely turn into a party bus on the way back. With everything accounted for, Katarina soon maneuvered herself into the FO's seat and looked to her left.

“Alright Rooker, let's get the bird airborne and pull my troops back to safety."

“Sounds good, Kat."

The pilot slipped on the oversized helmet and began flipping switches until the alien vessel drummed to life. Luckily, the bandages weren't interfering with his periphery.

“Oh, and I'm going to need you to fasten that seat belt of yours, Kat, safety first and all that."

Katarina immediately began muttering under her breath, failing several times to get the seat belt and shoulder harness fastened before finding success and glaring back at him.

“You're not going to give me that damn pilot in command spiel prior to takeoff, are you?"

Rooker broke out into a wide smile.

“Well, as the captain of this aircraft, it falls within the duties of the pilot in command to inform the passengers over the intercom that aviation safety comes first and—Ow."

A right hook connected with his lower side. Thankfully, Katarina was unable to put too much power behind it due to the nature of her shoulder harness. Regardless, the woman still knew how to throw a punch even in enclosed spaces.

“Get this damn bird off the ground before I decide to go looking for that other pilot after I murder this one," Katarina warned.

“Fine, fine…just keep those hands of yours on your side of the aisle," Rooker wheezed.

Again, he would take a queasy passenger over an unruly passenger any day of the week. Dammit. It would appear that he was already beginning to miss the strange little doctor. Hopefully, Adrian was finding ways to entertain himself and not getting into trouble as a result of his absence from the containment labs.

The Doctor

Adrian had been bored a great many times in his life. With Advent, hurry-up-and-wait was an all too familiar experience, in which the man's mind was often left to dangerously wander. He had become especially anxious over the years and often found himself either pacing around until he dug large trenches in the ground or borrowing something from the nearby environment in order to fill the void. At the present moment, he had chosen to fall back on the former after the latter had failed during the first few minutes of its onset.

He had neglected to join Rooker in the courtyard earlier due to the fact that his viper would also be in attendance, so he was still very much in the dark as to what had ruffled the captain's feathers and caused their morning plans to go up in a puff of smoke. Unfortunately, this meant that he also had no idea where the giant alien ended up. He'd like to think that they brought it with them, but the viper was far too large to fit inside an Advent dropship, which meant that it was very likely still lurking somewhere inside this containment cell.

Adrian thought about peeking out of the observation windows but knew that the viper was smarter than that and would lay in wait until he came to it. Thankfully, he was smarter than it and would never put himself in such a compromising position in the first place.

Again, his mind wandered to the fact that he'd amounted to nothing more than inconvenient baggage over the last week, being dragged along and forced to rely on Rooker for safety. Yesterday, he'd chosen to run from his tormentor, but this only left him bruised in more ways than one.

The more he thought about it, the worse he felt, because that occurrence more or less reflected what he'd been doing over the last three years. Back in New Providence, he had been mugged several times before and had done nothing, he had been caught in an ambush and done nothing, he had been—the man felt the dark memory begin to surface and took shelter using his wooden sanctuary, feeling its protective walls with his thumb. Thankfully, his efforts proved successful and the man was given back control of his body.

Even before everything went to hell, he was still an utter wimp who had little idea of how to handle a gun or defend himself should the need arise. Adrian turned over the jewelry box to see the initials on the back. Even to this day, he didn't entirely know what Adeline saw in him that night on the East End. She had been so confident yet so kind to the stunted man that happened to be sitting alone on the rooftop terrace.

Adrian allowed the smallest of smiles to find its way onto his face. He had watched her from a distance at several of her performances, yet in the end, she was the one who found him.

As the hour grew late, he finally gathered enough courage to ask the woman for her number, but his future songbird refused to let him walk out the door with only a slip of paper in his hand. They were stopped at least three times on their way out that night. The first couple of men left the exchange with their egos deflated and the last one left with a broken arm—he loved watching her work.

She had told him once that she pursued him because he treated her as a person and not as an unfeeling object that happened to make headlines, however, they both were wasted at the time and trying their best not to pass out at a local techno club. Unfortunately, the happy memory was suddenly replaced by a darker one, but Adrian once again managed to temper the storm before its dark tendrils were allowed to overtake him.

The man needed to find something to take his mind off such thoughts. He needed a distraction and fast.

Adrian resumed his efforts to subdue his boredom and the dangerous thoughts that came with it by sifting through Rooker's old assortment of movies but soon realized that the video projector was in a sorry state of repair. He then moved to work through the various other boxes situated on the central table and turned up nothing. Frustrated, the man opened a final box and found himself faced with a hoard of old firearm manuals.

The doctor turned to look at the ballistic weapons along the back wall and an exciting idea entered his mind: he would stem his boredom by teaching himself more about firearms.

Adrian quickly cleared the top surface of the table by transferring its contents to the floor—he'd clean everything up later and Rooker would be none the wiser. He then dumped the box of manuals onto the table and began to comb through them in greater detail, holding their diagrams up to confirm if they were displayed on the wall and then selecting the ones that he wanted to try out in person.

There were ones on the M1 Garand, M4, M16, M107, M240, M1014, M1918 BAR, and so on. The number of Ms soon proved too overwhelming for the doctor, so he decided to pick the M107 because its trailing value seemed to be about in the middle and the gun displayed on the front of the M107A1 manual looked to be pretty small.

However, the doctor was met with surprise as he located the matching gun on the wall and double-checked the specifications: .50 BMG for the caliber, semi-automatic, about 28 lbs., a 10 round magazine, and a muzzle velocity of 2,750 feet per second…

Adrian merely shrugged and figured that the added size would allow him to visualize the elements of the weapon better. With a grunt, the man soon had the large rifle on the central table with its bipod extended and the barrel pointed towards the room that he and Rooker had spoken in earlier that morning.

With everything set up, the man turned past the table of contents, finding a quick disclaimer and blurb about the manual itself:

This manual is not a substitute for training from a qualified instructor.

The doctor would be the judge of that. After choosing to skip the safety guidelines, the man read through the firearm description and again confirmed the specifications that he had noted earlier.

Based on the chicken scratch in the manual, it appeared that Rooker already had the major components in order and the sights zeroed out, so Adrian immediately flipped to the loading and firing section, which was bolded in red letters. The man then realized that he had yet to secure himself a supposed .50 BMG round—he would need one if he was going to practice loading the gun.

Also, BMG? He hadn't the foggiest idea of what that stood for, but Big Metal Gun seemed appropriate.

A few minutes later, Adrian managed to find something with a black tip that roughly matched the length of the magazine. It was separated from the rest, so he figured that it might be some sort of dummy round. In any case, he needed something to practice with and this was currently his best bet. He also managed to find some ear protection. While he had no intention of actually firing the thing, he figured that he may as well play the part.

The man then looked back to the first step of the current section in the manual, which told him to ensure that the cartridge was pushed all the way to the rear of the magazine. After several awkward attempts, Adrian achieved success and moved on to the next step, which was simply to ensure that the safety switch was towards SAFE and not FIRE.

He couldn't help but laugh at the simplicity of everything so far. After all, if a blithering idiot like Rooker could do it, so could he. The manual then called for him to insert the magazine into the magazine well, which he promptly failed to do at least five times before he finally heard an audible click. Easy.

Adrian pulled the giant charging handle backwards until it stopped and then released it as requested. After skipping some more extraneous red text and caution symbols, he then read the last couple of steps:

Shooter to position themselves firmly behind the recoil pad and rotate the safety switch to the FIRE position.

While all of that seemed straightforward, the doctor was now faced with a conundrum that came in the form of a fancy-looking scope, which took the place of the iron sights that were outlined in the manual. Nevertheless, he removed the covers and set himself squarely behind what he believed to be the recoil pad, using his shoulder to support the rifle as he switched the safety switch to FIRE and began toying with the odd dials on the scope.

Frustrated that he couldn't see anything despite flipping up both scope covers, the man moved his free hand inside the trigger guard for additional leverage, swinging the muzzle of the rifle around towards the entryway to Rooker's room, its door still hung wide open.

Slowly but surely, the picture cleared on the other side of the scope and a kaleidoscope of black, red, and white transformed into a set of reptilian eyes. A set of pearly fangs scrunched up as a result of its owner's smile soon followed, but the man's mind saw it for something else and the dark memory surfaced.

Adrian immediately closed his eyes out of fear and latched on to his support out of instinct. The feeling was quickly replaced by that of rolling thunder as the rifle barked in reply and sent its armored fist across the room and into the next. He soon felt his pain receptors flare in his shoulder as the weapon bucked him backwards and the intensity of its war cry proved overwhelming. In the end, the man found himself sprawled out on the ground with an incessant ringing in his ears. A cloud of dust was kicked up off of the table's surface due to the resulting pressure wave.

“Argh…why even have hearing protection if doesn't even work?!"

The pain in his shoulder had yet to subside, but the man continued to ignore it as he finally came to terms with what he'd just done: fired a .50 BMG round straight into Rooker's private quarters. He reached down to grab the spent casing but was burnt for his efforts and immediately let its heat once again disperse across the cold cement beneath him. Adrian then hesitantly looked over the surface of the table and assessed the damage from afar. At first glance, everything appeared to be in one piece, minus the giant dust cloud that still hadn't dissipated in the air.

The doctor stood up and quickly made his way towards the pilot's room (failing to clear the weapon and engage its safety), eventually making it to the roll-top desk and nearly coughing up a lung in the process. While everything looked to be in order at first, Adrian soon heard the hissing of pipes and what appeared to be the sound of running water somewhere close by. He leaned to the side of the desk and found a sizable hole in the wall, which separated the current room from the…

“Bugger, bugger, bugger…"

Adrian continued to mutter to himself as he made his way towards the bathroom door, disengaged the lock, and found himself in front of a destroyed ceramic bathtub upon first entering the room. Water continued to flow from a destroyed pipe and its puddles appeared to be gaining ground on the adjacent rooms at an alarming rate.

“Alright Adrian, in order to stop the flow of water one must find..."

He threw what little towels were available to him on the ground in order to stem the flow of water and then began looking for a water shutoff valve. After coming up empty, the man went room to room until he finally managed to find what looked to be a utility closet with a series of switches connected to an unsettling amount of piping. Thankfully, Rooker had already done the legwork and labeled each with a strip of masking tape. He selected what appeared to be the right one and then hightailed it back to the bathroom, finding that he had indeed achieved success but was now also soaking in the fallout of his actions.

Rooker was going to strangle him once he got back.

“...bugger."

The doctor hung his head in shame as his stomach growled in response and another realization finally set in—he hadn't even eaten breakfast yet.

The Pilot

It was hard to think of a time when City-23 was ever a beautiful city. Large sure, but beautiful? Well, maybe beauty was best left to the eye of the beholder. In truth, the city was already on the verge of collapse well before the first alien ever set foot on its soil. After being overrun by crime as a result of poverty and a local government that didn't give two fucks about its citizens, a horde of mindless Lost might even be considered an improvement and have increased property values were a 'functional' government still in place.

While he had ultimately grown up in this part of the country, he was more accustomed to rolling hills and endless fields—a pilot's dream when it came to selecting emergency landing sites. The order of making such a selection was always: an already established aerodrome, an open field, a road that was preferably without powerlines, a large grouping of trees, and then finally ditching in a body of water or heaven forbid a marsh. Unfortunately, their present position left them little in the way of emergency landing sites and all of them ranged from unideal to catastrophic.

Even worse, he was forced to actively avoid what had come to be known as dead zones. Yes, they were no doubt filled with zombified humans, but the term encompassed a little more than just that. For one, they wreaked havoc on his avionics, which were already useless as a result of being so close to the city center; i.e., visual references and pilotage were a must. Second, onboard radios would cut out frequently, making long-range communication difficult. Lastly, spend too much time in a designated dead zone and you were likely to become one of them.

Of course, the transformation was something that occurred over a number of hours and was contingent on the strength of the activated alien device, which appeared to draw its victims in and serve as some kind of beacon for the Lost. However, one did feel its 'pull' even during the first few moments of being within its sphere of influence, which tended to vary over time. Standard protocol was to avoid these areas unless something of great value could be obtained from within, or you had your back against the wall against a horde of its creations.

While he'd come to admire certain aspects of the Elders' ruthless efficiency, he couldn't help but scratch his head as to the purpose of the Lost. Yes, the bioweapon had amassed an untold number of casualties over the years, but the Ethereals also appeared to be dead set on carting off humans in droves to unmarked locations. Why cull such a large section of the herd before you even had the chance to utilize its numbers towards furthering your dark agenda? It was nonsensical, but then again, this was Elders that he was thinking about.

The pilot gazed out the side window closest to him and across the yawning buildings, which towered well above his dropship. Any one of these steel giants could spell trouble for them should its foundation finally collapse as a result of urban decay. They were starting to close in on the other dropship's last reported position and its all too familiar pilot, so this was going to be a difficult mission either way.

“I'm going to start making radio calls and see if we can pick up a response," Katarina declared.

The pair had remained silent for a decent portion of their flight once they were airborne. Sure, the captain complained about a dozen or so times about his supposed less than adequate flying skills and his desire to fly higher than what was appropriate for the mission. Katarina also decided to take it upon herself to point out every missed turn based on her idealized route, which would've veered them right into a dead zone and then a nearby building after he would've lost primary control of the dropship. As one crept closer to the city center, things more or less turned into a giant game of minesweeper. Luckily for the detachment, Rooker was a minesweeper extraordinaire.

“Corsair, this is Nomad. Inbound to your last reported position. Do you copy? Over."

Only the subtle hum of their own engines filled the cabin.

“Corsair, this is Nomad. I repeat, inbound to your position. Do you read me? Over."

Again, static came as the recipient's reply.

“We're almost on the edge of that dead zone, Kat. I'll be able to skirt the perimeter for us to get a better visual before we set her down, but I can't land right on top of them and risk us losing another bird," the pilot warned.

The captain appeared conflicted as she looked out into the landscape in front of them. A pair of large residential buildings overlooked a nearby waterfront and a series of four-lane bridges, which granted access across a river that spilled out into a nearby pier. Long since abandoned boats listed lazily to their starboard or port sides, and the roads up above were littered with husks of old vehicles.

The cold had yet to officially set in and the first snowfall was hopefully still a few weeks out. Regardless, ditching the girl in the water would be an unpleasant experience, to say the least. Nevertheless, he had a bit more options here than he did a minute or so before.

“Look over there, Rooker, on the old memorial bridge!" Katarina pointed out the windscreen at what caught her attention.

Sure enough, a trail of thick black smoke originating from the center of the bridge marked the downed dropship, which looked to have seen better days. However, based on the humanoid shapes shifting around it on the surface, there were at least a few survivors that required rescuing.

Their transceiver suddenly picked up another voice, which was partially obscured by hissing static and crescendo of gunfire. “This is Corsair…we were unable to recover…lost engine after…require immediate evac. Over." The voice sounded grave and the situation dire.

“Dammit Rooker, land us on top of that bridge, and let's get Corsair and company out of there," Katarina commanded.

The pilot looked at his gauges, which were flickering in and out. He was already losing control across the board and anything further would likely result in them being forced to undertake a rather forceful landing. He then looked out of the cockpit and found the source of his woes: a glowing green object embedded deep within one of the bridge's tender houses.

“I'm sorry Kat, but I've spotted the alien object and it's wreaking havoc on my systems; the risk is too great. I'll need to put her down across the river and establish an evac point, then we'll have to proceed to the bridge on foot," Rooker replied.

“Damn it! Fine, but find us a spot that we'll have easy access to and is defensible once we fall back. I'm seeing a lot of targets converging on the location and things are going to get hot fast," Katarina conceded.

The pilot looked several blocks over and spotted numerous grey dots converging on Corsair's location. The captain was unfortunately correct in her assessment. He then turned to survey the area in front of them in order to find a suitable landing site.

“I'm going to set her down on the side of the bridge opposite of the memorial and inside that small courtyard between those two cylindrical buildings. If we land there, we'll have the waterfront between us and the Lost, and I'll have some vantage points to offer covering fire should we need it. It's as close as I'm willing to get given the circumstances," Rooker offered.

His honorary first officer sighed and nodded her head.

“Roger that, Corsair. Nomad will land in a nearby courtyard and provide fire support on foot. Will you be requiring medical? Over."

“Affirmative…pilot injured in crash…sweepers…search team…no survivors..."

The pair sat in silence as the hissing static soon overwhelmed the voice over the radio and the rest of the message became unrecognizable.

“Hold tight, Corsair. We're coming to you. Out," Katarina finished, releasing her thumb off of the transmitter and looking down towards the ground.

The pilot moved his free hand onto the woman's closet thigh.

“Doing alright there, Kat?"

“I just sent four men on a one-way ticket to an early grave, and one of them had just turned eighteen. I…can only imagine what his mother must think of me now," Kat whispered the last sentence.

“Then let's bring her other son home," Rooker replied in earnest.

Kat looked at him and nodded.

Lieutenant Simons had always been an uptight prick. To make matters worse, the two had butted heads on more than one occasion. Nevertheless, he was a hell of a pilot that had now just lost a father and a younger brother. One could only imagine the kind of sorrow that the other man was currently facing, and he was now also apparently injured as well. Indeed, a tough day on the job was only going to get tougher until they had everyone safely on board.

The pilot removed his hand from his FO's padded thigh and configured the dropship for landing, skirting in between the twin cylindrical buildings and touching down in an area once designated for valet parking. All the while, stray tarps blew across the courtyard and golden stanchions shook as a result of the settling dropship. This side of the memorial bridge remained quiet, hopefully, it would stay that way until they departed the area.

The pilot then moved to retract the cargo bay doors and made an attempt to get out of his seat after taking off his helmet and control gauntlet. However, Rooker soon found that the gloved hand of his commanding officer blocked his way.

“Stay with the ship, Rooker. I want to be able to pull out of the area as soon as possible."

“No Kat, you'll need overwatch in case your squad becomes overwhelmed. We'll use light gun signals like—"

“That was a damn order, lieutenant. Please don't do this to me now that we're out in the field. You said it yourself, Terminus can't afford to lose another aircraft at this point, and I need you at the ready to pull out should things get too hot," the captain countered.

“And potentially be forced to leave all of you behind?" Rooker grabbed onto the woman's shoulder, but she shrugged him off and made her way into the cargo bay, eyeing the large-caliber rifle that hung on the far wall. “I already told you that if I bring her over that bridge, there's a good chance that I'll lose control due to the interference, that is unless you're crazy enough to forge a path through the Lost to disable that alien artifact."

“No, we'll extract the survivors back to your ship, where you will stay and monitor the situation from afar," Katarina clarified.

“You're relegating me to sidelines?!"

The woman took the suppressed M107 off the wall and began inspecting his weapon.

“Yes, and you will do as you're told. Otherwise, the major will hear about what transpired earlier this morning in the containment facilities," she vehemently warned her subordinate.

“Oh sure, be my guest. Take my favorite weapon while you're at it. Come on, Kat. Let's cut the bull-crap. You need me out there!" Rooker fired back, unabated by the threat.

“Not out there we don't. You're a dropship pilot, not some goddamn hero. Now do as you're told or there will be consequences for your actions. This is your final warning."

The other officer finished her inspection of the anti-material rifle and turned to address the other occupants of the dropship.

“Alright, radios are going to be shoddy at best, so keep a visual and we'll use light signals to communicate from afar if necessary. We have at least four friendlies and one injured. Ramirez, I want you on point for medical. As for everyone else, we'll be providing covering fire while the Corporal does his business. We're likely running out of time, so let's get a move on and bring our people home!"

With that, Katarina's feet left the metal grating of the dropship and touched down onto the worn asphalt beneath it. She was quickly followed by four other sets as the recovery team set off towards the bridge, leaving him alone and without his favorite sniper rifle, which only added insult to injury.

The pilot sighed and moved his way back into the cockpit, switching all systems over to standby and turning to face the red and white cobra that was still situated in the jump seat. No one ever stopped to consider what the pilot did while everyone else was away on an op. Rooker shook his fists in the air at no one in particular and then collapsed into his sheepskin seat.

“Hurry up and wait is a bitch, isn't it, Julius?"

Rooker fished the antique watch out of his pocket and wound it up, letting its musical measure be heard throughout the cabin as he gazed into the stuffed animal's red eyes.

“You know, Julius. Once we find a cure for what ails your sister, I'm thinking of just cutting ties with Terminus altogether. Maybe build me and Rose a nice cabin in the woods where no one could bother us. Would be far away from any kind of civilization, but at least that way I would know that she'd be safe."

The nearby cobra merely held his gaze.

“Oh, don't be like that. We'd bring you along too. How else are we going to chop all of that timber for the longhouse that we'll no doubt need to construct?"

Rooker looked at the decorative scene and let his mind wander. Unfortunately, they'd likely need to commandeer an Advent freighter in order to get Rose safely from point A to point B—she was a big girl after all. As for where, he'd probably fly them north until they hit the wilderness that once defined the outer edges of the country. It would be cold for eight months out of the year, but at least they could live in peace.

As for the freighter, maybe the Resistance would be interested in taking ownership of it afterwards? It probably didn't matter, because all of this was a pipe dream that proved to be less and less likely as time went on.

The pilot turned his gaze back into the red eyes that found their way into the semicircular mirror. The measure ran its course and the music died.

“I'm not losing her too."

Rooker stood up after pocketing the watch and moved to place the stuffed animal in the captain's chair.

“Watch over the ship for me, Julius. I promise to be gone for only a little while."

With that, the pilot moved towards the loading bay and lifted up one of the nearby grates, revealing a large firearm case. He then pried open the lid and pulled out another anti-material rifle.

“If Katarina thinks that I leave my house with only one M107, then she's sorely mistaken."

Rooker then began loading its magazine, stopping at the last .50 BMG round to observe its silver tip and all the while wearing a sinister smile across his face.

When life gives you lemons…

“How else am I going to burn their house down?"

After he made sure that everything was in order, the pilot set the weapon down momentarily to fasten a helmet on his head and slide another gauntlet around his wrist, fishing the remaining line through detachable hoops in his armor and to a fitting along the upper portion of his back. Rooker then picked up his rifle and turned to face the stuffed cobra that was watching him from inside the cockpit.

“Please make sure that this stays between us. Rose would throw a hissy fit if she knew what I was about to do."

He pulled the massive charging handle for added emphasis, compressing an equally massive spring that would aid him in putting additional rounds downrange in quick succession. God, he loved the added weight behind every action of this weapon.

“Home by lunchtime," Rooker smirked as he too let his feet touch the asphalt and began to make his way towards the furthest of the two residential buildings. Upon arrival, the man shifted his rifle around his body and then widened his stance as he readied his gauntlet. He then released a grapple that soon found its way around the railing of an overhang, which was an uncomfortable number of stories above him. Afterwards, Rooker gave it a series of tugs to confirm that his line was stable.

He always hated what came next…

The pilot then pushed a secondary button on the gauntlet and was immediately catapulted forward, swinging into the air as the hoops detached along his arm and the winch serving as the new hardpoint took over. The ground beneath him began to shift itself further and further away as the line on his waist pulled him towards the heavens. Eventually, he found himself hanging above the uppermost part of the lower parking garages—the apartments and penthouses continued above him. Despite this, he was now some fifteen stories above the ground.

Rooker swung himself to safety and then unspooled the line, which would hopefully now serve as his means of escape should things go south on his end. The pilot then made his way towards the riverside edge of the building and began to set up his improvised sniper nest, using his trusty rangefinder to determine an approximate engagement range.

“Five hundred meters."

Luckily, the Lord had gifted him with an adequate setup and a graduated windsock on a nearby building. Unfortunately, he was also faced with a full-value wind thanks to a stiffening sea breeze. Despite this, Rooker ran the numbers and determined his minutes of angle, jotting the numbers down in his personal data log and then dialing windage into his scope. Dealing with conventional weaponry definitely had its drawbacks, but it kept mankind honest.

With everything set up, the weapon hot, and his visual references in order, the sniper turned his attention back to the bridge. It appeared that Katarina and company had made it to the downed dropship and were in the process of getting the other lieutenant stabilized for extraction. The captain had set herself up and was barking orders to everyone else on the ground. Thankfully, it appeared as though they had the situation under control and were quickly dispatching any Lost that happened to advance on their position.

The sniper turned his attention back to the dropship in an effort to try to determine what the hell ultimately downed the aircraft. After all, the Lost didn't have the means to shoot it down and were dumb as rocks. Furthermore, Lieutenant Simons wasn't the pigheaded idiot that his father turned out to be. He continued his inspection from afar until he stopped at the trailing thruster closest to him.

Now, the aliens certainly knew how to design an ugly dropship that only a mother could love. At the end of the day, the aircraft proved to be mostly functional, though he saw it fit to make numerous improvements to the design over the years, which meant that his dropship was a little more responsive in the air. Despite this, the baseline handling characteristics were well understood and documented by Terminus, yet in this case, even a person who had zero understanding of flight dynamics could see that the aft thruster was fubar and likely the cause for the crash.

However, the worrying part was what had caused it to malfunction in the first place: a deep trench sliced through the entire length of the thruster. The charred innards of the metal were left exposed to the elements. It was almost as if…

A shimmering of light found its way into Rooker's periphery and he shifted his gaze towards its source, finding what appeared to be panes of glass falling from the penthouse of a tall building, which was perhaps fifty or so stories in total and situated further away on the opposing bank of the river.

The man quickly switched over to his rangefinder and began to rerun his windage calculations. However, just as he finished mapping out his adjusted minutes of angle, a lance of superheated plasma spewed out of the building and found its way into the Resistance's front lines, severing its intended target's upper torso before it made contact with the bridge's surface and sending debris flying in the wake of its impressive crater.

The remains of Katarina's detachment were sent into disarray, but Rooker paid them little mind as he stood up and repositioned himself along the concrete railing, holding low in order to compensate for the additional incline to the humans' sudden aggressor.

Meanwhile, the massive sniper rifle that found its way into his sights sent out another charge of plasma towards the forces surrounding the alien dropship. Its owner then leaned out to survey the damage, allowing the pilot to finally gaze upon its haunting presence: an ebony viper of inordinate proportions.

One of its massive clawed hands laid flat against the wall beside it, displaying razorlike extensions across a powerful forearm, which also appeared to be decorated in tufts of feathers that blew against the firm winds aloft. A set of jagged, collapsible frills extended from its jawline and sat flush with its hood, while a pair of menacing horns appeared to sprout from its skull. Where Rose had delicate petals dotting her neckline, this creature only had more thorns. Also, he could've sworn that he saw a large set of dorsal fins lining the viper's muscular back. The damn thing looked like it belonged at SeaWorld, or better yet, came right out of Homer's Odyssey.

Its blue tongue continued to flick through the crisp autumn air as the telltale cry finally rang out for all to hear:

“ENEMY SNIPER!"

A profane grin formed on the viper's maw at the declaration from afar. Instead of retreating immediately, the creature chose to continue to admire its handiwork and the chaos that soon unfolded on the ground. He had the damn thing leveled in his sights, yet he hesitated to move his finger to the trigger. Although this viper's eyes took on a very different color than hers, he couldn't help but feel the same unanswered questions boil to the surface. It didn't matter that they were currently hundreds of meters away, he still saw them burn with the same intensity as if he had his hands wrapped around her neck. The red suns then gave way to an ocean of blue and continued to beg him for a reason as they set across its horizon, yet Rooker was now almost too terrified to answer their call.

He closed his eyes and then made his decision. As the serpent finally moved to reposition herself and her azure eyes came to stare directly down his scope, the pilot opened his own and moved his finger from outside of the trigger guard.

“I'm sorry."

Afterwards, Rooker squeezed the trigger and let slip the dogs of war.

The Doctor

Adrian poked his head out from the reinforced door of the observation wing. While he had managed to stem the flow of water and put the giant rifle back on its weapon rack, he was left starved for his efforts. Unfortunately, this meant traversing the enclosure in search of sustenance, because Rooker had stored nothing in the way of food in his room, or any of the rooms for that matter. Given the movie projector, the doctor hoped that he would've had at least popcorn bags sitting around, but this was sadly not the case.

He had told himself earlier that he wouldn't be caught dead outside of the observation wing, yet here he was, thinking about making a bolt straight for what he had been told was the designated eating area. Again, everything had been apparently set up for the viper's benefit. Sadly, this meant that he would have to take the scenic route in order to curtail the accursed hunger that had come to overtake him.

The doctor had learned from his prior run-in with the colossus that the metal door had a tendency to lock on its own. Therefore, he figured that he could prop open said door with some of Rooker's old-world junk and be out and back without the fear of being unable to make it back inside. Adrian looked back to his newfound sanctuary before he made his decision and began to venture out into the jungle.

Somehow, he managed to make it all the way to the courtyard without any trouble. Although, again he figured that the giant viper lied somewhere in the shadows, waiting for him to let his guard down and pounce immediately afterwards. Adrian continued to bounce from pillar to pillar as he rounded the rockface that had originally blocked his path. For once in his life, he was glad to be vertically challenged.

Finally, the man made it to what appeared to be a large pavilion tucked underneath the room that he'd woken up in earlier that morning. As he continued closer, he noticed that the ground beneath him began to slip away into two distinct sections. There was a lower section that seemed almost akin to a ball pit, but instead, it was filled with enough pillows and cushions to warm a sizeable village.

The lower section was no doubt built with the viper in mind, while the upper section had the typical elements that one would find in a normal pavilion. In fact, most of the items looked to have been scavenged from local parks outside of Terminus. However, no such park had the giant table that served as an additional barrier between the two sections.

While the structure itself was impressive, Adrian was more awestruck by the dozen or so commercial charbroilers that sat in the back corners of its upper section. Say what you wanted to about Rooker, the man appeared to be damn resourceful. The amount of labor that would've gone into putting all of this together was a feat in of itself, granted the other man had nearly a decade to reach this point.

Shit. He had just accidentally complimented the pilot, didn't he? No matter, Rooker was nowhere to be found and it was time for the doctor to find out what the other man had stored away inside his fridge, and by fridge, he meant gigantic walk-in cooler and freezer, which both appeared to have been built almost entirely from scratch.

The doctor didn't feel like thawing out his meal, so he diverted his attention to the cooler and gave its handle a quick test. However, much to his rising distress, the cooler was locked. He then tried the freezer door and received the same disheartening results. His path to delicious breakfast was officially blocked by yet another metal door.

“Aargh!"

The man pounded on the metal barrier several times before slumping to the ground in anguish. Damn Rooker for locking the door and damn him for gallivanting off while he was stuck here alone. Left with nothing else to do, he sat and fumed while his stomach continued to remind him of its neglect.

Things had officially gone pear-shaped.

After his temper tantrum had finally run its course, the man lifted himself to his feet and began to drag himself in the direction of the outer edges of the courtyard, intent of making it back to the observation wing. However, this time he made no attempt to hide his footsteps and instead took the direct route across the courtyard, more focused on his ever-growing hunger than the fact that he was currently being watched from afar.

Wait.

Adrian's hair on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end as he registered that last thought. He quickly pivoted his body to look behind him but found nothing other than the giant stone archway at his flank. The human shifted his focus forward with renewed resolve and quickened his pace as he also moved to clench onto his wooden box with shaky hands.

He could hear it now, the sound of heavy coils shifting the earth around him. Even worse, the sound was getting more pronounced as time went on. Eventually, the clamor proved too overwhelming and he broke out into a dead sprint after rounding the final corner towards the safety of the observation wing. However, the little doctor collided soon after with a wall of milk-white scales. While he bounced harmlessly off the surprisingly soft surface, he suddenly found himself sprawled out on his back and staring straight into the eyes of the behemoth, which quickly backed away in what was no doubt faux surprise.

[Oh my! Sorry about that, Adrian. I heard what sounded like a gunshot and was hesitant to come at first, but then I heard someone shouting. Are you—]

There were a great many moments in Adrian's life where he'd been afraid for his life and let slip an embarrassing war cry of his own. However, here his mind just kind of jumbled something together and hoped for the best.

“Idonutnowutyrtalkinabut…"

The doctor's voice petered off as he failed to come up with a valid excuse as to the rationale behind his most recent antics.

[What's a donut have to do with this? Are you currently suffering from a stroke and require assistance? Not saying I'm an expert on that sort of thing...but I did watch a show once that—]

“Imnotsufferingastrokeyougianthandbag!"

The red eyes narrowed as his pulse quickened and he began to look for an immediate escape. With the giant serpent blocking his path, he saw no way out other than backwards. Regardless, he needed to act soon lest the memory overtake him and leave him defenseless against this oversized viper.

[Says the tiny ape who's acting more and more like a mouse every day.]

The mention of the word set the fuse as he reached into his pocket in order to find his wooden sanctuary. However, he had let it slip out of his hands shortly after impact with the underside of the viper's tail, and it now sat some distance off in a soft patch of grass—six feet never seemed so far away. He shifted his body and began to crawl towards it in desperation, doing his best to ignore his tormentor, who continued to observe him from a distance. However, as the man came within a foot of his wife's old jewelry box, the dark memory took hold and Adrian was left to ride out the wave as its weighted pendulum swung once again.

Hot coals soon formed across his body, his throat tightened, and the floor beneath him was set ablaze and began to morph into a pool of black scales. A thick fog soon permeated the area and voices rang out in the distance, but he could not understand them. He was too focused on the set of azure eyes that came to hover in front of him. A purple hue soon covered their entire span and the pain that he felt was profound.

The voices in his head formulated into questions, which then morphed into demands as the pain only increased. Despite it, he fought back against their commands to the best of his ability. However, his resolve was soon worn down and the voices seeped deeper and deeper into his subconsciousness. The pain then became unbearable and he opened his mouth to let loose a blood-curdling scream as he suddenly felt himself in freefall. However, his cry for help was only met with a wall of water as the cold set in and he was forced back into reality, which appeared to be at the bottom of some lake.

Lake.

Adrian was a particularly awful swimmer, and that was putting things mildly.

Another wave of panic set in as the little doctor flailed his limbs in every which direction. His only achievement was spinning himself ninety degrees in order to gaze upon an inhuman appendage that scooped his body onto its surface and guided his ascent towards the lifegiving air above him. He soon found himself face down and heaving out the disconcerting quantities of water that had somehow worked its way into his system.

After managing to clear his airways, Adrian grabbed onto his foundation in an attempt to lift himself up but collapsed almost immediately afterwards, still in a daze and letting his heart rate return to normal as he continued to greedily suck in air. The man then made a second attempt only to rebound off the doughy surface once more, which vibrated in response and forced a shot of adrenaline into his veins.

While the doctor's final attempt was met with success, he now found himself staring into the red eyes of his would-be savior, which suddenly seemed so far away as the sheer discrepancy between their respected sizes was put on full display. Indeed, his minuscule body now sat on one of the thickest undersections of the serpent's tail. Three of him could lay shoulder to shoulder and that still wouldn't be enough to cover the span of the segment, and this wasn't even taking into account the thing's comely hips.

Despite being nearly situated at the center of the basin, the viper's tail still managed to form a giant bridge to the water's edge, where his captor's upper torso currently sat safely outside of the basin. In fact, its current posture mirrored that of a human woman dangling their legs into the water.

[Sorry about that, Adrian, but you were completely unresponsive and I had no idea how to snap you out of it. Afraid that I got a little carried away with the toss and sometimes forget my own strength. However, the good news is that it turns out that my body makes a great rescue buoy!]

The oversized serpent then began to bounce its upper torso up and down as if it were a spring and the final thought was some great revelation that needed to be shared with the world. Unfortunately for him, this meant that his organic bridge began to violently shake as a result of the alien's…excitement. Worse still, the viper had witnessed another one of his episodes and would no doubt use it against him soon enough. That is, if it would even allow him to escape its clutches.

The man was then thrown back against the muscular tail as it continued to bounce across the water. He was forced to stretch his arms out as far as possible in an effort to ride out the waves until his foundation once again steadied itself. It was always unsettling to see that a creature this large and this heavy could remain above the surface.

[Hehe…sorry, again. It's just that I was like Pamela Anderson! Saving the day alongside Rook—I mean David Hasselhoff, and rescuing people from giant sharks and earthquakes.]

It then propped its head onto a pair of scaled palms and gazed longingly off into the distance. All the while, the end of the viper's tail began to curl in and out, creating large ripples across the water.

This serpent was its own earthquake and could probably swallow a shark whole if it was allowed to get any bigger. Also, Pamela Anderson? Well…the thing had two very sound arguments currently protruding from its chest. Nevertheless, the viper couldn't seriously be referencing Baywatch? With Rooker as its teacher, it was no wonder that the alien ended up being this...off-kilter.

Adrian was suddenly knocked off of his knees as his bridge began to slowly collapse in on itself and the viper began to lucid dream. The little doctor was back on his feet as the appendage receded momentarily, but his reprieve was short-lived as the tail transformed into a wave of its own and began to close in on his position. Faced with the potential of being crushed or drowned, the doctor chose instead to charge headlong towards his tormentor's upper body. However, his foundation soon wrapped around him and he was pulled into the serpent's body.

A massive sigh came from on high and his entire world shuddered.

What began as a gentle hug soon turned into a vice grip that began cutting off his circulation. To make matters worse, the sheer difference in scale and the feeling of hardened scales against his delicate body only served to drive the memory back to the surface. Adrian began to violently shake inside of his organic prison. He faded in and out of the void with phantom pain replaced by actual pain as the coils continued to compress his smaller form. However, just as the man's body was about to give out, a gasp erupted from above and the red scales soon released him from their grasp.

[Adrian, how did you get…]

He was quickly repositioned onto the soft grass skirting the edge of the basin. His tormentor then laid itself next to him in what appeared to be an attempt to check his condition. The clawed hands shook in place as tears brimmed its eyes. The viper almost looked afraid to touch his body as it continued to convulse and his ghost began to take over in an attempt to pull him back into the abyss.

The doctor continued to drift in and out of consciousness as he was slowly lifted off the ground. The overhead sunlamp began to shift and then disappeared in favor of dozens of paper lanterns, which were almost identical to the ones that he found decorating a stand in the underground bazaar.

His perspective shifted once more as he was lowered back to the earth and the back of his head made contact with a padded surface. A cover was then pulled up to his shoulders. Despite the added warmth, his tremors continued unabated. His silent observer then moved to watch him from a distance, its clawed hands brought close to its chest as he continued to fight his latest episode.

The world around him shook as the serpent finally made up its mind, chose to lay its body down, and then turned to face him. Tears continued to stream down the viper's face and its wide sail fell to the pillows beneath it. The extensions dotting the creature's neckline went limp and sunk to the glossy scales under them, while its petaled crown wilted in the artificial sunlight. The serpent then reached out one of its oversized mitts in an attempt to comfort the little doctor, grasping his own hand in its protective shell and allowing heat to dissipate from its body. However, the gesture only served to deepen his tremors.

The claws pulled away instantly and a distressed whine escaped the serpent's maw. Seemingly left with no way to assist the small human, the larger alien chose to instead form a wide perimeter of red scales around his body and fell victim to its self-pacifying gesture. While his eyes saw a scared woman curled up next to him, his mind only cared to register the monstrous features that came with it.

What a fool he had been for thinking that he could escape his demons by fleeing to the Resistance.

Today was supposed to be a good day.

As the heavy fog rolled in and the voices returned, the walls that once shuddered alongside him now steadied, crimson gave way to ebony, and the warm eyes that watched over him closed in hopelessness and reopened out of cold indifference. He tried to pull himself away, but the azure eyes held him in place as the purple hue returned and the geysers of pain sprung forth from his body, leaving the man screaming in the void until his voice finally gave out and he collapsed out of exhaustion.