Chapter Text
6 Months Later: Year 3001
“Holy shit holy shit holy shit!” A man in a bullet-resistant vest came screaming around the corner toward his leader. “Boss! G-Goro! They’re coming!”
“Who’s coming, Daniel?” The man in charge, Goro, asked absentmindedly as he sipped his coffee from behind his newly stolen desk, his balaclava mask pulled up to his nose.
“Them!” The panicking man, Daniel, emphasized. “Their ship just warped into orbit five minutes ago!”
Goro straightened in his seat, “You don’t mean…?”
Daniel nodded, his eyes only betraying one emotion: Fear. “The satellites have already been knocked out, we’re blind! A few of them were even pushed out of orbit and are going to impact the surfac-!”
He was interrupted by a rumble, causing dust and pieces of ceiling tiles to rain upon them. The two men had to keep themselves upright by holding onto the desk.
“Fuck!” Goro shouted as he pulled his mask down to fully cover his face. “We need to get to the armory! I’ve got something hidden there that can help even things out.”
Daniel nodded and the duo set off. They ran through the hallways of the office building and passed the corpses of the workers who lay there still after they took over. They ran and ran, both pulling out their pistols. They passed by a window as another rumble, more violent than the last, shook the building. The masked man peeked through the blinds of the window and felt horror spread through his entire body.
In front of the office building was a large, flat plain. It had been shelled to hell and back when his little cell performed a hostile takeover of the building. Looking out around the cratered, dead field now, there was a lone red figure floating toward them, slowly. Their arms were outstretched, as his men laid into the figure with autocannon fire. The glowing tracer rounds ricocheting off of the armored form and flying away. Deorbited satellites fell behind and beside the figure like summoned meteors.
The red figure floated forward, undeterred.
“Fucking hell!” Goro swore and pointed for them to run further down the hall. They ran down three flights of stairs and burst out into the courtyard of the office complex. More dead office workers, human and xeno, were strewn about by the courtyard and the center fountain. The work of he and his men, but now there were more corpses added to the pile. Men, in the same white and gray camo and vests that he and his compatriot wore, were lying dead next to the office workers they themselves killed merely two days before. A patch on all of their arms, the same patch that graced his arm, of a human hand crushing a three-eyed alien skull, the symbol of the Syndicate of Purity.
Another rumble and he turned to his right. The tallest office building, ten stories tall at most, had been employee housing, and they had cleared it out of said employees a day and a half ago.
Now, he saw a dark green spot of light leaping up and into the side of the tall skyscraper. The green figure caused the concrete and steel of the building’s construction to crumble as it was made of foam and tissue paper. The building began to list to the side and collapse. It was going to fall onto the office building he had just left! He had no time to think about that though as he and his compatriot kept running across the large courtyard. Making it all the way across the office complex, the two men ran into what used to be the employee parking garage. The upper level now served as an armory. The elevator was out, so they had to run up seven stories to the tarp-covered weapons cache.
Stopping to catch their breath halfway up, they felt the hair on the back of their necks stand on end, and then all the lights went out. The duo pulled out flashlights, ran up the remaining flights, and reached the upper floor. As they exited to the open air, the leader of the cell, Goro, spotted a dark blue spot of light standing on top of their generators, navy-colored electricity arcing off his body before he punched straight down into the massive power source. A mass of lightning bolts and sparks, like the upward-facing legs of a spasming spider, and then the generator exploded.
It exploded so violently that it knocked the two men to the ground, even half a kilometer away on the other side of the complex. Standing up in a daze, Goro turned to his right to see that the autocannons that were firing on the red figure had stopped, and in their places were mere piles of glowing slag. The red figure was nowhere to be seen.
“Jesus Christ,” The leader muttered to himself as he turned to the left to Daniel. He was still on the ground, a slight bit of blood dripping down the side of his head. Goro, in panic, shook the man who suddenly lurched awake.
The duo stood back up in time to watch the employee housing building finally collapse, burying half the complex in rubble and dust, this sent another rumble through the ground, but the men were prepared for it this time and held strong. Getting up with shaking legs, the two men ripped the tarp off the weapons cache and threw the boxes of normal rifles and pistols to the ground, out of the way. They’d be useless anyway.
The leader of the cell tried not to notice how quiet everything had gotten.
Opening a long and large black armored box, an advanced rocket launcher greeted them.
“Holy shit, Boss!” His compatriot spoke with awe. “I had no idea we had one of these!”
Goro wanted to smile, but only grimaced, “It was never supposed to be used. Only sold.”
They had no choice now. The leader grabbed the heavy rocket launcher out of its casing and heaved it onto his shoulder. Shaped like a long tube, the handle was placed in the center and was joined to an advanced screen for laser-guided targeting.
“We have three rockets filled with a thermokinetic payload.” Goro barked out. “Put them in the magazine and load ‘em up! We’re gonna send these freaks back to whatever test tube they slithered out of!”
Daniel nodded, took the magazine out of the box the launcher was inside, and began loading the advanced seeker rockets into it, one by one. With shaking hands, his underling completed his task and loaded the magazine into the rocket launcher. The leader booted up the targeting system and the screen sprang to life, giving him a view of where the weapon was pointed, with a green tracking crosshair, searching for a target.
That was when the duo felt a whoosh pass close above them. Fear gripped their spines as they looked up and across the other end of the garage roof to see the three men in advanced hardsuits land in front of them: red, emerald, and navy.
The Navy one had strange triangular plates all over his back and shoulders, with straight spikes poking out where the corners of the triangular plates met, electricity arched between the spikes.
The Emerald one, who had landed so hard the concrete under him cracked, had an exosuit on over and attached to his hardsuit. The pneumatic braces clasped around his arms and legs. An odd tear-drop-shaped device on his right forearm, and a large handgun strapped to his hip.
The Red one, who still hovered just off the ground with high-tech thrusters, had a fur lining that dragged down into the chest, looking like a flight jacket. He had a gray metallic left arm; the shoulder shaped like a disk, a glowing white ring inlaid that pulsed slowly. A fusion generator! Probably the smallest the man had ever seen!
The plates of the cybernetic arm opened up, revealing the blood-red internals and a plasma cannon that extended up from the forearm. The red armored man pointed the cannon at the two men, and in a flash of amber light and heat, Goro felt the air sizzle and cook as the lance of nuclear fire shot past him and impacted his compatriot.
SSSHH-HAAAAAHHHH
“Ensign Daniel!” The leader shouted as he turned to see the charred husk of his friend and underling fly off the roof of the parking garage and down below. “God-DAMN-it!”
Then, the sound of whirling blades made itself known to everyone on top of the parking garage. Turning to his right, Goro had a poisonous grin on his face as his advanced gunship had been left unscathed by the carnage, and he still had enough men to operate the beautiful thing. The large flying vehicle had four massive propellers that tilted upwards as it approached the garage. The gunship, painted in the same white and gray camo, let its plasma cannons spool up before letting out a torrent of blue bolts down at the armored men. Goro ducked for cover and shielded his face as the far side of the garage was bathed in plasma fire.
The fire continued for a minute, the smoke was everywhere as the concrete was boiled and cooked by the onslaught.
Finally, it ceased, and the leader poked his head out from the fallen weapon’s boxes he had been hiding behind. The area was still bathed in smoke and glowing melted concrete, but the wind from the strafing gunship cleared it quickly.
Revealing the three men still standing there, a dark green disk of hardlight glowing from the tear-drop-shaped device on the green one’s forearm, shielding them. The armored man dropped the shield, the hardlight projection seeming to flicker out of existence.
Hardlight? Goro had only heard rumors of the tech like that, all of it in the prototyping stages… or so he thought.
The red one lifted his arm cannon and placidly pointed it at the gunship, but the green one stopped him and pulled the large handgun from his holster.
It was a rail-revolver.
It was off-gray in color with square paneling and a curved handle. Like a regular revolver, it held a central cylinder where the rounds were kept and rotated each time a round was fired, but unlike a regular revolver, the cylinder was boxy and only held three rounds.
What little Goro had heard of weapons like that suggested that the recoil alone would shatter the bones in a man’s arm and chest. The man pointed the advanced handgun at the gunship, which was spooling up its plasma cannons for another barrage, but the rail revolver charged up first. The center of its boxy barrel glowed a magenta color before the solid tungsten armature was propelled by the magnetic rails and accelerated to Mach 2 instantly.
KRAK-OOM
The solid metal projectile tore through the hull of the gunship like it was made of cotton. The force of the impact and instant kinetic explosion sheared the gunship in two; both halves spiraling downward and out of control before hitting the ground and exploding, making the parking garage rumble once again.
He heard the green one shout, “Holy shit! That was wicked!” and the red one smacked him on the back of his helmeted head.
The trio turned now to Goro, who had positioned himself and was aiming the rocket launcher at them now.
“Die you sons of bitches!” The leader of the cell yelled as he pulled the trigger, once, twice, and then three times. The rockets each locked onto one of the armored men. They launched out of the tube, and then activated a second later, a plume of fire behind them as they began to aggressively seek their targets.
The trio separated across the roof of the garage as the rockets came careening toward them at breakneck speed.
The Navy one tilted his head out of the way, letting the rocket whizz past him; the missile was unable to correct its seeking in time and exploded far away from the men.
The Green one simply headbutted the rocket as it came toward him. He was instantly consumed in the inferno of fire, pressure, smoke, and shrapnel.
YES!
It was a shame that the Navy one had dodged, but he hit the Green one, which must have counted for something.
Right?
The parking garage shook as the thermokinetic blast rocked it to its foundations, but to the leader’s horror, the Green one was still walking toward him. His body parted the large cloud of smoke and ash that trailed off the unblemished green-powered armor like ghostly wisps. The leader of the cell couldn’t see the large man’s face, but he could just feel the grin radiating from him.
The final rocket went straight for the Red one, who still hadn’t let his feet touch the ground. The last second before the rocket was to impact, the man caught it.
Yes, the man who floated above the complex and the parking garage like some wanna-be god caught the fucking rocket with his right hand. The missile sputtered and the flames still billowed out the back as it tried desperately to impact its target. But the man’s arm was steady, holding it a mere half meter from his helmeted face.
With a lazy backward toss, the man threw the missile back behind him; it careened and spun in the air wildly before impacting the water fountain in the center of the courtyard a quarter of a kilometer away.
Goro, in horror, surrendered, dropped the rocket to the ground, and held his hands up.
“Tsk tsk tsk,” The green armored man spoke as the trio regrouped and stopped just in front of him. “Looks like someone’s having a bad day.” The green man laughed and held his hand up for the navy one to high-five, but the gesture was ignored.
The red one, who finally had touched down on the roof, shut the green one up with a glance.
The red-armored transhuman kneeled in front of him, his red mask parting to reveal his face, and the blood-red eyes of Brick Jojo, The Devil’s Own Son.
“Tsk tsk tsk is about right though, Butch,” The red-eyed being’s gravelly voice said. His tone brought a shiver to the leader’s spine. “Goro Hajime, Leader of the Local Cell of the Purity Syndicate. You owe me.”
Goro, wincing under his balaclava mask, pissed himself as those blood-colored eyes met his.
“You were supposed to sell me these weapons,” Brick pointed to the boxes of rifles and the advanced rocket launcher Goro just tried to use against them. “As well as the gunship Butch just blew up.”
“In return for a good deal,” Brick spoke as he stood up straight and looked down at the man. “I was going to look the other way as you cleared out this nice little office compound of its civilian workers, so you could have yourself a defensible operation. This system is technically my territory after all.”
Goro shook in his piss.
Butch nudged his blue brother and pointed at him and his piss puddle.
“But no,” Brick continued as he scrunched his nose at the stench of urine. “You tried to haze me. You tried to take the compound AND keep the weapons.”
Goro spoke up, his voice full of fear and shame, “I-I didn’t think-”
“What? Didn’t think what!?” Brick gritted out, anger in his voice as his eyes began to glow. “You didn’t think I’d find out!?”
Butch snickered at the man, but Boomer had been quiet the entire time.
“Well, I found out, and now look at you, Goro,” Brick motioned to the smoldering ruin of his compound and his men. “Your little terrorist cell is nothing but rubble. It took us ten minutes. Five minutes to reach orbit, and five minutes to come down here and kill every. Single. One. Of. Your. Men.”
Brick looked down at him, “Why?”
“W-What?” Goro stuttered out.
“Why did you think you could haze me, Goro?” Brick asked as he crossed his arms, still looking down at him.
Goro felt anger then, righteous fury as this tank-bred thing looked down on him, proverbially and literally. He rose to his feet, ignoring the warmth in the center of his camo pants.
“Y-You wanna know why? Because you all are tank-bred freaks!” Butch’s laughing demeanor stopped cold, as did Boomer’s more passive countenance. “You three and your little smuggling operation think you can just barge in and bully underground groups like the Syndicate into submission when we’ve been doing this for years !”
Goro wasn’t done, “You all were born from tubes! You aren’t real humans! You should have the same amount of rights as my fucking shoes!”
The brothers joined Brick, stopping on either side of him. Their fists were clenched. Their masks were open and they were scowling.
“News flash FREAKS!” Goro shouted at them. “The Syndicate will chew you up and spit you out like so many before us! We’re the Syndicate of Purity! All xenos must die! All human-xenos sympathizers must die! And all tank-bred subhumans must die!”
Brick looked at the metal plates on his cybernetic arm passively before finally glancing up at him, “Oh… are you done?”
Goro was heaving, he didn’t care anymore. These things were getting too uppity and needed to learn their place in the pecking order! No one challenges the Syndicate! No one can make deals with the Syndicate thinking they have all the power! The Syndicate is sprawling! The Syndicate is unseen! The Syndicate is powerful! The Syndicate is pure!
Brick walked over to Goro and grabbed him by the collar of his vest, hoisting him up easily with one hand, “Fuck you and fuck your precious Syndicate. I was just trying to get some money, but you purity douchebags have pissed me off!” His eyes were glowing red again, and as Goro struggled in Brick’s hold, he looked forward and saw the other two’s eyes glowing an intense blue and green.
“So here’s what’s gonna happen,” Brick spoke as he walked Goro to the edge of the parking garage roof. “My little software genius of a brother over there is going to search your database for any and all Syndicate warrens. And we’re gonna raze them to the ground.”
Goro gasped and looked up to see Boomer nodding slowly at him, a grim frown on his face.
“To send a message that the Rowdyruffs don’t fuck around,” Butch added and pounded his fist into his hand.
Brick nodded and smirked as he held Goro dangling over the edge, the terrorist cell leader’s feet kicking wildly, “Anything else left to say, Goro?”
“Fuck! You!” Goro spat as he kicked at the red armor. “Go ahead and drop me!”
“Ohohoh,” Brick cackled with a shake of his head. “I’m not going to drop you…”
Goro’s eyes widened in fear and confusion.
“Ooh, I love this part!” Butch said excitedly as Boomer still had that grim frown on his face, not quite looking at his eldest brother.
Goro didn't even have time to process those words as Brick’s arm moved and he was suddenly propelled straight up into the air; he watched stunned as the three men and the parking garage seemed to fall away as he sailed higher and higher up into the sky. Goro kept ascending and ascending, he flew up so high that he had reached the clouds and got very very cold. He barely had time to process it all.
Just then, he slowed, and all of the upward motion reversed, and he began falling.
Goro screamed and flailed in the air as he reached terminal velocity and rocketed toward the ground. A green flash joined him and he was stunned to see Butch escorting him in his descent, grinning wickedly.
The last thing Goro saw was Brick, standing on the edge of the roof of the parking garage, laughing at him, and Boomer, with his back turned away, and then Goro hit the asphalt of the ground below and never saw anything ever again.
✧✧✧
Brick rocketed toward the sky behind his brothers. He was immensely satisfied that Boomer was able to find the location of another Syndicate hideout from the remains of their database, and that Butch had just finished bringing the remaining boxes of weapons back onto their ship. The leader of the Rowdyruffs planned to make good on his word; these anti-alien fucks pissed him off, and he’d show them what happens when someone gets on his bad side. When someone tries to screw over the Rowdyruffs.
Turning around and looking down at the office compound, he smirked at the smoldering ruin that had been left in their wake. Brick pointed his cybernetic arm down and with a mental command, his plasma cannon unfurled from his arm. He had already used it twice, so he surmised he could use it one more time before it needed to cool down and recharge.
With a whine and a hum, he felt his arm vibrate and a whitish-orange beam of star fire blasted out of the barrel. He pointed it at the mostly flat patch of cratered ground in front of the compound and wrote out: RR. The giant letters glowed red hot even from space as they docked back into their ship.
As the airlock closed behind him and the cabin repressurized, Brick and his brothers stepped inside their ship: The Duke. It was an old vessel; a combination of Hydolian and Garnahron design, but now with a distinct Human finish. Being an antique cruiser mattered little once Brick got to tinkering with it. Now it sported some of the most advanced cloaking tech and weaponry on the market. It was his pride and joy.
It was jet black but partially reflective, a good disguise for the vacuum of space. It was shaped like an arrow: wide, triangular, and sharp at the front, before trailing back into a sleek, straight form tapering off into a set of tail wings.
“I call first shower!” Butch exclaimed as he shoved Boomer to the floor and ran into the ship’s bathroom. The blue ruff fell on his ass with a loud clang.
“What the fuck Butch!” Boomer yelled, groaning on the floor. “Seriously…”
Brick looked down at his youngest brother on the floor in front of him and extended a helping hand. Boomer looked up at the hand, suspiciously, before tentatively reaching for it. Suddenly, Brick smacked Boomer’s hand away and stepped on his stomach as he walked over him and continued his way to the cockpit.
Boomer coughed and cursed at Brick who just smirked, walking down the narrow corridors of the ship. Arriving in the cockpit, Brick booted up the star chart. A holographic projection of the galaxy appeared on a screen next to the cockpit window. Claiming the center pilot’s seat, he typed in the coordinates for the next Syndicate hideout in the console and the galaxy gained a little green ping in the center of the Orion Arm. Brick glanced down at the console as it read out the planet designation to him: Jardon, Seat of the United Galaxy Government.
“Well… shit,” Brick muttered to himself and slumped back in the pilot’s seat. The nearest Syndicate base being on Jardon itself would make things infinitely more complicated. He felt Boomer saddle up behind him, his arm wrapping over the back of the chair.
“Jardon… shit, we’d have an easier time robbing CICADA… We’re still gonna hit them though, right bro?” Boomer asked inquisitively. “I mean, they tried to fuck us. We can’t let them get away with that. Besides, they’re racist doucheb-”
“Of course not, we’ll just have to be a little stealthy about this one,” Brick interrupted his brother with a smirk. “But we have a stop to make first.”
Boomer gave his eldest brother a quizzical eye.
“We snagged the rest of the weapons, and we still gotta sell them,” Brick spoke as he input a new set of coordinates into the navigational computer. The ship began to leave the planet’s upper atmosphere as it quickly accelerated. “Tell Butch that we’re arriving at the nearest Jump Gate in five. If he’s not out of the shower by then, I’m not peeling him off the shower walls.” Brick set course of the nearest Jump Gate; the low rumbling hum of the ship's engines grew louder as they propelled through the star system and towards the Jump Gate two systems over.
In a flash of blue, Boomer vanished into the halls of the ship.
It was about three minutes before Boomer came back, as did Butch, who was toweling off his hair… and stark naked.
“Put something on Fucker!” Brick hissed as he covered his face, but Butch just plopped his bare ass in the seat to the right of him.
The green ruff cackled, “Putting a new spin on the word COCKpit, eh?”
Boomer, covering his face with both hands, screamed into his palms and immediately started arguing with Butch to put some damn clothes on, but Brick snapped at them to be quiet as they entered communication distance to the Jump Gate.
The massive structure hung silently in the void before them, a colossal set of concentric rings, carved with ineffable symbols along its edges. The metallic rings slowly turned with each other, a spot of void in the hole of their very center. The rings themselves were cut squarish, and despite actually being made of metal, they looked like they were composed of weathered stone.
Unlike the brutalist, blocky composition of the Jump Gate rings, the Hydolian-built station orbiting it was a brilliant brushed bronze with curved shapes and ostentatious filigree all over the outer hull. Those aboard the station served as the Gate’s operators, facilitating the movement of ships to and from any other Jump Gate. The brothers heard the station hail them, asking for identification of their vessel.
“Attention Vessel,” The Gate’s Hydolian operator spoke through the cockpit’s communication systems. “We are scanning your ship. Please prepare an identification packet for us to receive.”
Boomer leaned over Brick and tapped on a side panel at the cockpit’s controls. He was sending a packet of ID information that would spoof their signature, masking their vessel as something else.
After a moment, the Hydolian operator’s voice came over the comms again, “I see. A Funerary Cruise Vessel for one, Mas’Eve Noots?”
Both Butch and Boomer snorted, while Brick tried and failed to suppress a smirk
The eldest brother turned to Boomer and mouthed with a grin, “Are you serious?”
“That is correct,” Boomer spoke into the microphone, a grim tone in his voice even as he smiled at his eldest brother. ”We’re transporting the remains of one, Massive Nuts. Code: 8G9P9P1.”
Butch burst into laughter, Boomer quickly muted the comms to snicker, and Brick tried very hard to keep a straight face. After a further moment, the Hydolian operator confirmed their information and allowed them passage through the Jump Gate. Brick sent a coordination packet to the Jump Gate’s mapping systems as The Duke slowly cruised into the hole at the very center of all the rings.
Butch looked out the cockpit’s view screen with wonder as the planet-sized set of rings encircled the ship, “We must've done this hundreds of times by now, but I’ll never get over it. I mean… how did those space-hippy Hydolians ever build something like… this!”
The rings began to spin and glow a pale yellow as the boys buckled into the cockpit seats, and Brick set the ship’s shield to full strength.
“Never read a damn history book, have you, Butch? The Hydolians, preening centaurs that they are, don’t have the intelligence nor the guts to build something like the Jump Gates.” Brick pushed a lever forward and the white glow of the ship's shield was visible, designed to keep debris from the ship as they were slingshotted faster than light.
“They found them.”
The fabric of space bent around the ship, and the stars melted into lines of light as the ship was suddenly shot toward their destination, Metrolion Prime, faster than light.
Metrolion Prime, the Ruff’s stop before Jardon, and the current no man's land for a galactic war.
✧✧✧
Sometimes, Boomer wondered if he’d gone wrong somewhere in life. If he had pissed off some deity and now he was perpetually cursed. Nothing ever seemed to go his way. And the few times they did, they always left a confusing feeling in his stomach…
The Duke was caught by the next Jump Gate, slowing their arrival velocity and dispersing the energy that had built up as a flash of light. Just before them was the large, barren planet, Metrolion Prime. There was a massive blockade of ships, all with the UG symbol emblazoned on them.
“Butch,” Brick started as his fingers flew over the cockpit console. “Engage the cloaking.”
“Please engage the cloaking, Butch,” The green ruff muttered with a sardonic tone as his fingers tapped the console on his side. “Sure thing, brother of mine, thanks for asking so nicely.”
Brick and Boomer scoffed as the edges of the cockpit window shimmered.
“Maybe you’ll get a please from me if you put some damn clothes on,” Brick snapped back, refusing to turn and look at his middle brother.
“Yeah, you’re not allowed to snark while your dick and balls are out,” Boomer added, also staring straight ahead.
Butch sighed and pushed a button to recline his seat, “Everyone’s a critic.”
The cloaking had been engaged. It masked the heat signature of The Duke, making them practically invisible to the sensors of the UG Blockade, at the cost of quickly raising the internal temperature of the ship.
The Duke, its nimble arrow-shaped form, cruised silently between the large bronze-colored cruisers of the UG Blockade and toward Metrolion Prime’s atmosphere. The large warships were imperious but silent in the upper atmosphere; their broadsides lighting up as they sent plasma fire and missiles down to the surface at measured intervals.
The Duke’s outer hull began to faintly glow as they descended through the thin atmosphere of the planet, out of the range of the broadside fire from the cruisers.
Boomer looked toward his eldest brother, who always ran hot, and noticed the beads of sweat running down the side of his head. The cloaking had raised the internal temperature and the friction-heat of atmospheric entry only made things worse.
Luckily, the descent was quick.
The gray surface of Metrolion was pockmarked with craters. Boomer figured most were from meteor impacts and other celestial junk, but other craters were from-
A cluster of missiles launched out from an outcropping below the descending ship. The missile swarm fanned out and collided with a base of a mountain range a few kilometers away. The bottom of the range suddenly lit up with dozens of explosions, concurrent blastwaves rippled through the dusty surface even as the fireballs still blazed in the distance. Pieces of the mountain tops crumbled and became rock slides as the very ground shook.
“Alright,” Brick sighed, wiped the sweat off his forehead, and turned to Butch and Boomer. “Butch, you’re with me to talk to the Einyar (Eye-n-yarr) Worms. Boomer, you’re the delivery boy to the UG.”
Boomer sputtered, “What? Why am I going alone? You’re the dealmaker!”
He had no idea how to cut these shady deals that Brick always seemed to have in his back pocket. Boomer didn’t even know what kinds of weapons were in the boxes!
Brick waved his protests away with a flippant hand, “The money’s been transferred already. All you have to do is drop the weapons off, quietly, yeah?”
Boomer ran a hand through his wavy blonde locks. He was not a fan of flying solo on this.
Butch stood up and stretched as The Duke’s landing gear deployed, “What’re you bitchin’ for, Boom? You know how uptight the Worms are. You got the easy job so long as you don’t get caught flying back to the enemy side.” The green ruff, still naked, chuckled and patted Boomer’s shoulder as he passed by.
Brick stood up as well, his helmet closing around his face as he walked past Boomer, “Just be stealthy. You’re quick, so you’ll be fine… and Boomer?”
The youngest ruff did a half turn, looking at his eldest brother.
“Leave that bleeding heart of yours on the ship,” Brick commanded as he did a half-turn of his own to look at him. “This is a war that we’re not supposed to be a part of. Don’t let your… tender disposition drag us into it, yeah?” He turned and walked toward the cargo hold.
Boomer scoffed, but said nothing, following Brick.
Butch, now clad in his hardsuit, joined them as the door of the cargo hold slowly lowered. The biting wind and gray dust of Metrolion Prime flooded into the cargo bay. Boomer and Butch both heaved crates of weapons onto their shoulders and stepped out onto the barren surface. It was a scarred husk of a planet. The thin, pale atmosphere colored the stars and the darkness of space a brownish-gray hue. Brick had landed The Duke in a small canyon a few kilometers away from the thickest fighting. As the three of them slowly floated from out of the canyon walls; they flew low over dark gray rocky outcroppings and snaked through the ravines toward the combat zone. The thrusters of their hardsuits were deadly quiet, a hissing whisper in the background of missiles, railgun kinetics, and plasma bombardment.
Missiles arched at the emplacements of both sides, kicking up massive plumes of dust after their fiery explosions dissipated, with blast waves throwing even more dust into the air. Boomer separated from his older siblings and toward the mountain range that took the initial brunt of the missile swarms. Brick had told him beforehand that was where the United Galaxy forces were encamped.
Boomer kept low to the ground as he flew toward the mountain, out of sight. Luckily for him, the winds carried all the disturbed dust toward him and further obscured him in a gray haze. He reached the base of the mountain and quickly found a poorly hidden tunnel entrance, it was too perfectly circular to be natural. Boomer slowly entered the tunnel, the cumbersome crate of weapons still heaved over his shoulder.
The farther he entered the tunnel, the more a clatter of voices deep in the cave grew in volume. He arrived at what looked like a medical camp. Silvery pentagonal tents were scattered around a large widening in the tunnel. Boomer gingerly sat the crate of weapons on the ground, just at the edge of the camp. The youngest ruff made to turn back the way he came, but he hesitated and turned back to the unmarked black crate.
Looking around to check if anyone was watching, his curiosity got the better of him, and he cracked the crate open with his hands. Lifting the black kevlar tarp inside, the contents of the crate were revealed. Inside were hundreds of plasma rifles, freshly printed from some far-off factory. Boomer picked one up.
Their squarish design and distinct umber color were hallmarks of Y’Niri manufacture. It was lighter than he expected. After flipping a switch on the side, the internal coil began to hum and glow a pale blue. He had never held a plasma weapon before; Brick always forbade him from touching them, deeming him “too incompetent with something so dangerous'. The glow was nearly mesmerizing…
Suddenly, Boomer’s attention was stolen as the walls and ceiling of the medical camp rumbled, dust rained from the ceiling as more missiles impacted the mountainside.
“Damn Worms,” Boomer muttered as the tunnel shook further, gripping the crate to keep from falling over. Shouts of alarm were coming from deeper inside the medical camp, and Boomer could see forms running around, but they were obscured by the pentagonal shapes of the numerous tents. He turned the plasma rifle off and gingerly placed it back into its spot among its fellows.
He should leave.
He heard more shouts coming from inside the camp, and Boomer’s fist clenched.
…Why?
“Why is it so easy for them?” Boomer bit out to himself as he pictured his older brothers.
Brick would hear the shouts of alarm and wonder how best to capitalize on it. Butch would hear the shouts of alarm and wonder if he could make them shout louder. But Boomer…?
The blue ruff grimaced and looked at the crate of weapons again. With a sudden tug, he pulled the kevlar tarp out of the crate, a few plasma rifles rattled out of the crate from the action, but he simply threw them back inside. He wrapped the tarp completely around him and his hardsuit. Brick wouldn’t want him to be identifiable, just in case he was connected to his brothers, who were across the battlefield selling weapons to the enemy.
Brick would be pissed if he saw what he was doing.
He walked further into the camp, his deep blue armor hidden completely under his black kevlar cloak. He slipped into the medical camp quietly, sticking to the periphery as he watched UG soldiers and medics scramble around the makeshift infirmary. Hydolians, Y’Niri, Garnahron, and even a few Humans, all clad in the UG silver flak armor, running around like ants. Some were ferrying supplies from one end to another, or into a tunnel that went up toward the mountain peak; where Boomer assumed the artillery was kept.
The widening in the tunnel was vaguely circular, and the pentagonal silver tents ringed its edges. A command station of sorts was set up in the very middle. A haphazard-looking cluster of screens and computers that blinked and occasionally flashed red in unison, cables ran from them to what looked like a car-sized fusion generator way toward the back of the tunnel.
Two Hydolian soldiers were at the command station, their graceful fingers flying across the holographic displays. Boomer watched as another pair of soldiers, one Human and one Garnahron, carried both ends of a stretcher, a human trooper on top of it. She was unmoving.
Boomer saw a Y’Niri, garbed in the uniform of a UG medical officer, silver flak armor with pale green striping, moving in and out of a large tent at the other end of the camp. The spider-like alien was consulting a dataslate scrambling around in a manic hurry.
Boomer would bet both crates of weapons that that was the main medical tent. Hugging the makeshift cloak close and waiting for the Y’Niri to leave the tent, Boomer flew low to the ground across the very center of the camp, a mere black blotch quietly flying to the medical tent.
He hadn’t been noticed.
He hesitated for a moment. Why was he so intent on this? It nearly felt like he had been possessed, an insatiable, morbid, curiosity entered him the second he saw that alien medical officer. What had the medic in such a frenzy?
The blue ruff parted the flaps of the tent and had to stifle his gasp. The medical tent went back into a deep recess in the tunnel walls, so it was much larger on the inside than the front would’ve suggested.
There must’ve been hundreds, all down the length of the tent and deep into the recess of the cave. In three neat rows, injured soldiers lay, some wailing, some murmuring, some still. All on bunk beds stacked three high.
“This must’ve been a repurposed barracks,” Boomer muttered under his breath as he walked between stacks of the injured and the dead.
The first bed that caught his eye had a Y’Niri soldier on it. The eight limbs of the alien were each splayed open, trailing off the edges of the bed. The alien’s chest was scorched and charred open; the maroon chitin and flesh burned black. Plasma burns. Boomer could see the double-beat of the soldier’s heart clearly. He was amazed that the being was still alive.
He kept walking, holding the black cloak close to him as he passed by a Human. Numerous tubes were feeding into him, but his body seemed unmarred. That was until he noticed the large cross-shaped wound across the soldier’s neck and chest and the pronounced, black veins that trailed from it. The human male was comatose and murmured in his delirious sleep, both hands flexed and twitched erratically.
Boomer kneeled by the man and reached out to touch his arm but, at the last moment, stopped himself.
“This is… Einyar venom,” Boomer whispered as he followed the pronounced, black veins from the cross-shaped wound down along the rest of his body. The strange wound, he now recognized as a bite mark made by the four long, machete-like fangs of an Einyar. “...Those damn Worms.”
Boomer’s fist clenched.
Loud coughing stole his attention, Boomer quietly made his way between the rows and rows of triple beds, most with forms covered in white sheets.
There was a Garnahron.
The reptilian, her scales a deep shade of indigo, coughed bile into a bucket at the side of her bed. She also possessed the strange cross-shaped bite marks of an Einyar, except far more of them. Black venom was leaking from her three eyes and down her wide mouth.
The soldier spat black phlegm into the bucket and slowly looked up at him, panting.
“A black cloak…” The Garnahron woman spoke with a wheezing whisper. “My Human comrades said Death would look like you… Have you come to claim me?”
Boomer was stunned. Death? What the hell was she talking about?
But he didn’t have the time to answer her as she suddenly went stiff on her bed. Her muscular body began to seize, the black venom pumping in her veins as she suffered a seizure. Her strong, clawed limbs threw the sheet from her bed as her arms went into a pose similar to the fencing position.
Boomer’s heart began to race. What? What was happening? Was this because of the Einyar venom? What could he do?
Her arms went stiff again, every muscle flexed out of her control, before she suddenly collapsed, all of her muscles slacking, and one arm draped off the edge of the bed. A long quiet exhale escaped her reptilian lips.
“H-Holy fuck…” Boomer whispered, aghast.
She was dying!
Boomer looked around for someone, anyone, but no one was in the tent. No one except the injured, the dead… and him.
Boomer looked at the armored hand of his hardsuit... maybe… he could save her… He flexed his fingers and electricity arched between the digits. With a shaking hand and quick, shallow breaths, Boomer held his hand over the alien soldier's chest, about where her heart was. Blue bolts of energy launched between his fingers even as he pressed his palm flat against the scaled chest of the soldier. And with a further mental command, a bolt of lightning left his hand and ran through the soldier’s body.
He had no idea if what he was doing was working, or if he was simply killing her faster. But he had to try! He had to do something!
The Garnahron’s body lurched and her limbs launched forward as the electricity made her muscles seize further. She dropped back against the bed, her breath coming in quick pants, all three of her pearly white eyes wide in fear and confusion.
But she was… Alive!
Boomer breathed a sigh of relief and looked at his hands. He looked at the soldier and found that she had passed out, but her chest was slowly moving up and down, so she was breathing. The relief felt better than anything he had ever experienced.
In fact, every moment from when she had begun seizing was playing in his mind over and over again as he stood up from the bed. That was…
That felt…
He…
He saved someone!
Oh my god…!
That was incredible!
It felt like a puzzle piece clicked into place, or a game he had no idea he was even playing suddenly made sense. A revelation rocked through his body so hard that he felt like he’d fall over. He leaned against the triple bunk bed for support and breathed heavily, with sweat pricking across his temples and down his back.
Something was wrong…
Or… was something finally right?
He didn’t get the chance to think about it, as he heard a shout in fright. He looked up to see a human male across the infirmary, his arm in a sling and bandages over his right eye, staring straight at him.
His mouth was slack in horror and he pointed with his good hand, a scarred hand, “R-Reaper!” Other beds started to stir, and the flaps of the tent opened to reveal the Y’Niri Medical Officer. All five of its black eyes stared at Boomer. It had no pupils, but even he could read the shock on its face.
“G-Guards!” The medical officer shouted and Boomer took that as his cue to bolt. Faster than he ever flew, he felt the black cloak rip off his suit as he launched out of the infirmary tent, across the center of the camp, down the tunnel, and out into the open air of Metrolion Prime. Missiles whizzed past him as he ducked and weaved through the open air of Galactic War.
He didn’t even get time to think as he flew toward the meetup spot where Brick and Butch should’ve been. He kept low, in the layer of disturbed dust and soil. He weaved over battlements and minefields as he reached the Einyar side. A mere spot of blue light, he was moving so fast.
He reached the Einyar side of the no man’s land in seconds, if that. When he touched down, he hit the ground with such force to leave a crater, the very wind taking a moment to catch up and rush past him in a violent wave of displaced air. Boomer fell to his knees.
What was that?
He was a Rowdyruff!
He didn’t…
He didn’t do that…!
He didn’t… save…
He held his helmeted head as a massive headache began to pound in his skull; if he had a weaker stomach, he would’ve vomited inside his helmet. He opened it to feel the cool Metrolion, dust-filled air. It was a welcome relief.
Slowly, like a newborn fowl, he stood up. His legs were shaky as the images of the dying Garnahron soldier flashed through his mind. The warmth of her scaled chest underneath his armored hand, and sudden seizing of her entire body as lightning, his lightning, restarted her heart from the brink.
“Brick is going to kill me,” Boomer heaved as he felt the genuine urge to vomit then. He leaned forward, hands on his knees, but no vomit would come. Images of his eldest brother, red-eyed and the avatar of sheer fury, saturated his mind. If this came back to him, to them, Boomer could have risked their entire operation. Smuggling, War-Profiteering, Piracy, everything would go up in smoke as the UG military police imprisoned them in their infamous supermax prisons.
Something deep in his brain whispered, “Good.”
He looked around in a panic, but luckily, no one was around in the Einyar no man’s land to see him and his freakout. Boomer shuddered and felt his stomach go queasy again, but he held out, burping some stomach gasses and finally, finally standing up straight.
It was cool.
Everything was cool.
It was unlikely that it’d come back to him, or them. He had been disguised, under his armor and the kevlar cloak. He tried to think like how Brick would. How would he rationalize this?
“Y-You’re ok, Boomer,” The blue ruff spoke with a raspy whisper. “They’re all either injured, dead, or overworked. Anything they see could be rationalized as pain-induced hallucinations or sheer delusion…” Boomer laughed as Brick’s thought process brought him immediate comfort.
He was such a sucker.
“Right, right, you’re good, Boomer.” He exhaled slowly, letting the cool, dusty air of Metrolion tickle his cheeks. He luxuriated for a moment longer before closing the mask around his face. He flew deeper into Einyar territory. Past more battlements and minefields before reaching a deep canyon that Brick had given him the location of prior.
He descended into the canyon and was met with a flurry of activity. It was eerily similar to the UG medical camp. Except it was no conglomerate of several species, it was only one.
The Einyar.
Colloquially known as The Worms.
Twelve-ish feet in length. The Einyar were analogous to the Old Earth Bobbit Worms. Their bodies were long and coiling. The tail end terminated in a ‘hand’ that was really four tentacles that acted as such. Their heads were eyeless, with only three, bulbous tremor-sense organs sitting on their heads. Evolving to be subterranean, they saw the world through the shockwaves it produced. Their mouths held four curved, long, blade-like fangs that dripped with black venom. Their fangs would slide forward and unfold out of their mouth. Giving their face an appearance similar to that of a blooming flower.
They were coral in color, a strange mix of orange and pink, with light and darker shades less common.
They moved across the bottom of the canyon with side-winder, serpentine-esque motion.
Boomer descended and none of the Worms acknowledged him. He scanned the Einyar camp for his brothers and eventually found them. Butch was sitting atop the weapons crate, and Brick was in the middle of what looked like a heated argument between himself and the General of the Einyar force here on Metrolion.
Boomer slowed in his flight as he approached. Brick paid him no mind, and Butch was entertaining himself by drawing his rail-revolver on passing Einyar and shouting "BANG!" scaring them all away from him.
The youngest ruff sighed and landed next to Butch.
“Ooh, you took a while,” Butch muttered as he holstered his advanced handgun. “Trouble with the Hydolian-Hippy squad?”
The images of the injured soldiers in the medical camp flashed through his mind and Boomer felt himself bare his teeth.
“It was awful,” He whispered to his middle brother. “So many injured and dead, and who-knows-how-many other UG camps are on this planet alone! Among who-knows-how-many other planets just like this one in this god-awful war against these… these… Worms!”
Butch looked at him wide-eyed for a moment, like he was some sort of apparition, before bursting out into laughter. The blonde ruff felt a strange mix of shame and revulsion as Butch laughed at his protest of this one-sided war.
The green ruff wiped a tear from his eye and slid off the weapons crate, “Boomer, you naive little deer.” The spikey-haired ruff suddenly turned and walked down the length of the canyon, away from Brick, who was still arguing with the Einyar General in their alien tongue.
“C’mon,” Butch said without turning around for him to catch up. “Lemme show you something.”
Boomer hesitantly followed his older brother. Einyar passed by the duo, their coiled bodies moving as they carried weapons, munitions, and supplies to and from various destinations around the camp.
Boomer watched as an Einyar carried a rifle that should be two-handed. The cluster of tentacles at the tail held the handle and the trigger, but the Worm’s flexible lips and fangs acted as the second hand holding the long, heavy rifle as its body rippled toward its destination, wherever that was. It was like their entire body was a pair of arms, terminating in a hand on each end.
Boomer was led into a tent, not dissimilar to one he was just inside, except the covering was the same strange coral color as the Einyar themselves. Stepping inside, Boomer almost gagged with the sudden, acrid smell that assaulted him, like fish and rot and gunpowder.
It was the Einyar infirmary.
Boomer stumbled past his brother, who had been watching him the moment he stepped inside. The youngest ruff felt his jaw drop as a simple white tarp had been laid out on the ground. It was large and covered nearly the entire floor of the tent.
Hundreds of Einyar lay across it.
Most of them were still.
Boomer walked further inside, feeling like he was floating as he shouldered past an Einyar medic, who hissed at him in its alien tongue, but he paid the extraterrestrial no mind. He stopped at a single Einyar, its long worm body was coiled in on itself. Numerous bandaged bullet holes and plasma burns covered its ponderous length. Its breath was quick as thick, green blood seeped out of its burns like pus.
Boomer kept walking, his vision on the bodies around him as he felt like he was becoming untethered from his own. The stench of death was suffocating.
Einyar smelled foul when they died.
He found another one, its head taken clean off, but the body still moved. Its tail thrashed as two Einyar medics were quickly whispering at each other, probably deliberating the best course of action. But the Worm would die from the decapitation eventually; Boomer was honestly amazed the body was still even moving.
The two Einyar medics noticed him and stared at him with their eyeless worm visages; the one on the left’s fangs unfurled from its muscular mouth in a threat display.
Non-Einyar were not welcomed here.
Boomer backed away, with his hands up; but his back hit Butch and he wheeled around.
Butch had produced a cigarette from somewhere and pointed at him with it, “So, what did you learn?” He spoke with the tone of a parent asking their child about their activities at school.
The only reply Boomer could supply was, “What the fuck?”
Butch nodded in understanding and held his cigarette out, “Help your dear old brother out?”
Boomer lit it with a bolt of electricity without even thinking. The action was completely automatic. The youngest ruff turned away and stared at the infirmary; most Einyar were covered in white sheets.
Butch took a long drag from his cigarette and shrugged at his younger brother, “For real though. What the fuck.”
The Einyar medics kicked them both out of the medical tent with threats of venom-filled maws and handguns strapped to their coiling bodies.
The duo kept walking deeper into the Einyar camp and found a sight that made Boomer’s heart nearly stop.
In a lone black tent, sat a Hydolain and a Human, both had Einyar coiled around them like constricting pythons. The Einyar that was wrapped around the Hydolion was dripping its black venom from its fangs and into its eyes. The centauroid alien gritted its teeth and stifled a scream in its odd, whistling tongue.
“Torture?” Boomer whispered, his eyes widened as his fists clenched, and he stepped toward the black tent. But Butch’s hand on his shoulder stopped him, Boomer looked at his older brother with wide eyes. Why would he stop him!?
Butch shook his head, “The words the Worms are speaking, it’s an interrogation.”
Boomer looked on at the grisly sight. The Einyar coiled around the Human and dragged its four long fangs across his face. The sharp teeth were pressed hard enough to break the skin and bleed, but not enough to envenom the man.
“This is… awful,” Boomer stage-whispered to his brother and shook his hand off his shoulder. “And to do it so openly too! It’s… it’s brazen! Shameless! Like they don’t care who sees! We… we need to stop them!”
Butch gave Boomer a quizzical look, “This is war, Boom.”
“But these damn Worms are-are torturing them!” Boomer nearly yelled, unable to keep his voice down, he felt the attention of some of the other Einyar soldiers on them now.
Butch shrugged, “Did you see the United Galaxy forces doing the same?”
Boomer stepped back from him, “What? No! The UG… they aren’t savage! They don’t use… venom and-and torture!”
Butch took a drag of his cigarette, “Did you check?”
Boomer glared at his middle brother, “W-What do you mean?”
Butch blew smoke to the side, “Did you, Boomer, go and check the entire UG camp for an interrogation room like this one?”
Bommer blinked, “N-No.”
Butch nodded, “And do you think the UG is above the ‘savage’ things? You saw the infirmary. I mean, did you see the headless one?” Butch made an explosion gesture against the side of his head and made a sound like an explosive boom. “Talk about mind-blowing.”
Boomer looked back at the black tent, which had now been closed by an Einyar soldier, who was regarding them both warily. Well, as warily as possible for a species that lacked eyes.
The UG wouldn’t torture and interrogate Einyar… right? The United Galaxy was supposed to be an example for the rest of the galaxy. The grand government that other species wanted to emulate or join. Humanity had been brought into the fold a mere fifteen years ago.
“The UG… they wouldn’t do this,” Boomer muttered, disbelieving the very idea.
Butch flicked some ash from his cigarette, “Why are you so sure?”
Boomer heard his words, and they were like a knife through his resolve. The idea that the UG was pristine suddenly buckled and cracked. The images of the infirmary shattered the pieces in his mind.
But, the act of him saving that Garnahron’s life, did not. No, that image burned brighter than ever.
“I guess it doesn’t matter,” Boomer looked on with a grim frown. “The Einyar are clearly too comfortable torturing enemy soldiers to do it so openly. They should be taught a lesson.”
“Brick wouldn’t like that,” Butch said casually. The looming threat of the eldest ruff made Boomer’s feet fill with proverbial concrete.
“I… don’t care,” Boomer spoke as his fist shook. “The Einyar, these-these Worms, they’re too cavalier about being monstrous warmongers.”
Butch sighed, “There’s no fucking shot the UG aren’t interrogating captured Worms in their own special ways either, Boom. You’re naive, but don’t be dumb too.”
Boomer wheeled around with outrage on his face, but Butch continued, “Think about it like this, if both sides are torturing people, would you wanna be on the side who was doing it behind your back?”
Boomer’s outrage died in his throat and he swallowed, his fist finally relaxing.
“What would Brick say, right about now?” Butch wondered aloud as he blew smoke from his cigarette. “He’d say something infuriatingly simple and snappy... like, better the devil you know? Or some horseshit.”
The emerald ruff continued, “Some wars are oppressors versus oppressed, some are warring states throwing tantrums, and others have gone on so long, no one can remember who started it anymore.”
Boomer felt the fight slowly leech from him as Butch’s words sank in, “The Einyar used to be a part of the UG, a long time ago, right?”
The middle brother nodded, “Something like that. They split apart, and no one even remembers who fired the first shot.”
Boomer sighed, “Ya’know, you can be surprisingly wise.”
Butch laughed and flicked some ash, “It’s the cigarettes, they make me smarter.”
“Really?” Boomer gave him a disbelieving look, raised eyebrow and all.
“Fucking no, dumbass,” Butch flicked the cigarette at Boomer’s forehead. The blue ruff sputtered as the butt struck his head and fell to the ground, “C’mon, Brick is probably done reaming the Einyar General a new cloaca by now. Let’s go.”
Rubbing his forehead clean of ash, Boomer half-turned and looked at the black tent. The flaps had been closed, and he couldn’t hear the whistling screams of the Hydolian prisoner anymore. With a bone-deep sigh, Boomer turned and followed his brother.
He felt light-headed.
He just couldn’t wait to lay down in his bed and put this god-forsaken planet and war behind him.
They arrived back at Brick and the General, who were still mid-argument. The Einyar General had a blade in its tail-hand, pointed at Brick’s throat. And Brick, entirely unphased, continued to yell at the alien.
“The price was two hundred thousand so you pay two hundred thousand!” Brick yelled, suddenly switching to Human English.
“╞ ╒╛╤ ╬╨═╩╞╤┬┴ ╛┌╙╦╤┼╞╬, ┐╙╥ ╞ ┴═╦’╥ ╤┬┬ ╞╥!” The Einyar General shouted, its body writhing in agitation. (“I was promised a gunship, but I don’t see it!”)
Brick groaned and the panels on his cyber-arm rippled and flexed in annoyance. He turned to see his younger siblings approaching cautiously, “There you two are. Butch, here.” Brick snapped his fingers twice at his middle brother. Boomer glanced at Butch as he looked at him in turn; Butch gave him a lazy one-shouldered shrug and walked up to Brick.
Suddenly, Brick pulled the rail revolver from Butch’s holster, turned and fired into the cavern wall. The tungsten armature impacted the solid rock so hard it caused tremors to rattle through the entire camp; pieces of the canyon edge crumbled and fell, burying a few tents in rubble.
Everyone was stunned silent as Brick slowly dragged the steaming barrel of the hand cannon across the camp, Einyar ducked for cover as the muzzle passed before them, then landed square at the center mass of the General.
“Two hundred thousand,” Brick said with a dark tone before pointing the steaming muzzle straight up into the air. “Or I’ll reveal this entire camp’s location with a single pull of a trigger.”
Boomer, shocked beyond belief, followed his brother’s aim straight up and gasped. A United Galaxy Frigate from the blockade was way up in the atmosphere, slowly passing overhead. Brick’s threat became clear in Boomer’s mind then. One trigger pull and the railgun armature would crack through the frigate, even in the upper atmosphere. It would have enough room to reach its maximum velocity of Mach 17 and probably shear straight through the frigate, destroying it instantly, if they didn’t have their shields up, of course.
But since there were only UG ships in upper orbit, that was unlikely. All of the ship’s energy would be put to use in bombarding the surface like they had been, and the solid tungsten round would perforate the frigate like paper mache.
But the other frigates would notice, track the projectile’s location from its arch, and locate the Einyar camp.
With a single trigger pull.
Most of the time, Brick scared him.
The entire camp was still. All of the Einyar soldiers had their rifles pointed at Brick, but it was unlikely anything the troopers carried could even scratch their advanced hardsuits, and if they fired on him, well, all he had to do was pull the trigger once and this whole battle would be won.
The Einyar General ‘stared’ at Brick; its long fangs twitching in sheer anger before it turned to one of its fellow soldiers and muttered something in its alien tongue.
“┌┬╥ ╥┼╞╤ ╩═╦╤╥┬╨ ┼╞╤ ┴╛╩╦ ╩═╦┬╫,” The General huffed and with an insulting gesture of three-flexed fangs, slithered off. (“Get this monster his damn money.”)
Brick smiled and bowed in respect before placing Butch’s rail revolver back in its holster, “‘Preciate it, Butch.”
Butch blinked at his eldest brother, beyond stunned at the ballsy and aggressive display. Usually Brick preferred to tear someone down with his words, but it seemed to have worked well for them this time.
An Einyar soldier cautiously approached them with a dataslate and transferred the two hundred thousand to their account. Brick pulled out his personal cell and watched as the account jumped up in value; he smiled at the soldier and offered his thanks.
“╞ ┼═╬┬ ╥═ ╒═╨╚ ╒╞╥┼ ╫═╙ ╛╔╔ ╛┌╛╞╦,” Brick said with another bow before the three brothers rocketed back off toward their ship. (“I hope to work with you all again.”)
Next stop, Jardon, the seat of the United Galaxy’s power.
Where the next Syndicate of Purity base was located.
Where their counterparts, the Powerpuffs, were located. Even though the boys were unaware of that.
And despite it all, during the chaos of Brick’s dramatic display, none of the brothers noticed the small, four-tentacled drone watching them.
Sky-blue in color, with a domed camera for a head, and looking much like an octopus.