"You are the sword and shield of our institution…"
Those words resonated in his head, and Mark took a deep breath, unnaturally calm. A tinge of emotional confusion was present in his eyes as he looked out through the windows, gazing upon the endless expanse of waste beneath him. Nostalgia hit him, and he struggled to maintain a straight face.
A battle machine – that was what he was trained since infantry to become, a mindless drone of mass destruction. Looking down at the waste he once considered his home, he felt as if a huge part of him had broken off from his body. He was born to kill, and trained to slaughter by wolves in sheep's clothing.
Humanity had performed numerous wonders like this, their wondrous "art" developing from his small village to stellar civilizations. "Find, Conquer, Waste" – rinse and repeat, there were no ends to their wild frenzy in the hope of intergalactic conquest. Their negligence births errors, dangerous mistakes that even the strongest can't handle themselves.
There were loud mechanical whirrs in the distance. He translated it to be a cry of rage and pain, mixing up with bottled-up anxiety and distress. It was like the cry of a cornered beast on the verge of collapse, eyes clouded with madness as it readies itself for the final struggle, the struggle before its inescapable death.
The alarm within the combat aircraft screeched suddenly, and following hydraulic whirs, the ramp began to rise slowly. There was a loud bang, and then the slow rise of the ramp transformed into a speedy elevation. The wind rushed into the rigging area from all possible sides, carrying the pollution from the wastelands beneath them into the area.
"Keep your head in the game. You have to deal with this threat before we can move on. Maybe return here and order for a detoxification of this site." A feminine voice sounded beside him, a voice silvery and clear – like a winter melody. It raised a strong coldness in his heart.
"I am fine." Mark probably was supposed to be fine. He felt no pain or emotion, just a wild confusion and what he perceived to be a timeless longing. Longing for what? He had always asked himself this question, but no answer could be provided.
This was his home. This wasteland, devastated by human endeavours – once housed a cheerful young boy who wanted to see the world beyond the stars. Now, the place he laid his back to sleep has been reduced to a dump for toxic waste. He was supposed to be angry, enraged, aggravated! Instead of all those unstable emotions, all he felt was a tranquil coolness.
["Decent" in 3…]
"Ailsa, I always said I would voyage the sea of stars. I would vanquish all who stood in my way. I swore that as far as I could sleep with the stars in my sail, I would be content." Mark closed his eyes, bracing himself for the "Descent", "You would always ask what I saw across the river. Over and over, no matter how hard I corrected you that I meant the sea of stars and not the rivers around the colony."
"Why are you bringing up [trashed] memories? I hope you are not thinking of anything relatively stupid during this mission?" Ailsa asked, her short auburn hair fluttering in the wind as the ramp raised higher, "It has been years, yet you never gave me a clear answer, probably because the question was stupid?"
The wind continued to gush into the room and Mark shielded his eyes in response. He glanced to the side, watching as the auburn beauty beside him followed suit, her hair scattered in the wind. Staring at her, and thinking freely about what had become of his home, he remained emotionless. He was modified to kill, not to harbour weak emotions like hatred and pain.
[Reserved Power Lying at: 97.0%]
[Toggle: Origin Battle Suit Y/N?]
"Yes."
Mark replied with a frown on his face, his eyes locked on to the screen that had appeared before his eyes – his eyes alone. It was the system, a program installed in his Origin Suit. The program was visible only to him, and it allowed him to manage all aspects of his suit, and the well-being of his body inside the suit.
[Depletion Rate reading E0.2% per 1Hour]
["Descent", Authorised!]
Mark tilted his body forward, stepped forth and jumped out of the ramp, dropping down at a fast speed. He could feel the pressure of the wind against his body weaken as his suit whirred awake.
Following the awakening of his suit – Mark opened his eyes slowly as screens virtualized before his vision, writing out the information about the state of Mark's suit.
He landed on the ground with a loud bang, causing dust to rise into the air as he stood amid all the debris. His fully functional suit tanked all the damage from the crash, yet not a single scratch was present on it. Mark was unfazed by all these, as he has done things like this countless times without fail, it seemed just as simple as breathing to him.
He looked up to the sky, watching as others followed suit. Transport pods containing Origin Demolishers – heavily fortified battle Mechanoids, were also dropped from the ramp. Seconds later, they all landed on the earth around Mark, sending dust and waste scattered around the area. As soon as they landed, the pods were opened, and the metal beasts inside were unleashed.
Towering over nine feet, the metal machines armed with Doomsday Launchers marched into formation, their eyes pulsating in a bright silver glow. Smaller mechanoids followed beneath them, armed with light marine rifles and gliding packs. Their formations were tight; guarding the humans behind them as they all marched forth with a coldness in their eyes.
Mark watched it all, his hands on his Storm Revenger as he stared upon the expanse of waste before him, at the end of it all lay the target – the threat they all gathered to eliminate at all costs: the last of those who were abandoned by the world. He readied himself, his eyes emotionless as they all marched with their eyes locked forward.
A roar sounded in the distance, shaking the earth and rattling the dust off the wrecked stone walls of the wasteland city. Hearing the mechanical noise, Mark took in a deep breath and leapt forward – his installed gliding pack came alive with a soft whirr, propelling him into the air with an explosion of steam.
As a trained exterminator of these targeted monstrosities, formations and more mechanoids would just slow him down. Fighting on the ground without their defence is suicide, so he was granted this machine, a technology that permits flight over short distances for a short period. Although it drew a lot of power from his suit, it gave him an aerial advantage over his enemies.
"Roar!"
He heard it again: the mind-shattering roar – it shook his thoughts, but he was able to arrange them in a split second. Gliding over the tall buildings, he found himself getting closer and closer to the threat. With brows knitted, Mark weaved through debris on the rooftops, gliding to the top of larger structures.
After reaching a very high spot, he finally sighted the target. It was a massive metal monstrosity over a few dozen feet tall. He didn't know what technologies it was equipped with and found it suicidal to fly into its attack range without backup.
He could hear the other's behind him, and the Origin army further back. Of course, the monster was in control of metal minions as well, their numbers over a hundred. He discerned that they were equipped with light-range weapons. They were just infantry, so he believed the Origin army would handle all without any "heavy" casualties.
The "boss" of it all finally noticed Mark. It let out an earth-quaking roar in fury and then ordered its minions to charge forward. The feral bots swarmed in their dozens, rushing towards Mark. Although they were all feral, under the control of the boss, they remained in a coordinated formation.
Mark who watched it all from the top of the high structure drew in a deep breath and then powered on his Revenger. After he'd activated his weapon, he jumped off the structure and glided down towards the swarming minions. He unleashed his weapon upon them, tearing their defences to threads as he opened a hole in their formation.
"Boom!"
His weapon ravaged the enemy, blowing their armour up to smithereens. Without a clear view of him in all the chaos, the machines were left firing mindlessly whilst he pincered deeper into their formation, his eyes locked on to his target. He dodged stray shots, and weaved through collapsing mechanoids – his glide pack propelling him over any annoying obstacle on the path.
"Ra Ta Ta Ta!"
Mark looked beside him to see that a large group of monsters had been blown up. He didn't bother to look behind himself, knowing that the others had already caught up to him. He believed the shooter to be Ailsa, her machine gun had low recoil, and a very high firing rate – although the drawback in power was present, it seemed insignificant when used against infantry mechanoids.
Mark just charged forth. Unlike her weapon, his boasted a powerful amount of destructive force and equally "shocking" recoil. He had a weak firing rate, so he was unable to spray his shots like Ailsa, but the explosions caused by a successful shot compensated for the unimpressive firing rate.
It made him the perfect "core" in expeditions like this.
He looked around, finally locating a suitable building in the distance. It gave him the height needed for his glider to propel him directly to the monster. Although, he would have to battle it on the ground as they were not a single building close to the target. Mark sighed internally, cursing his luck.
"Mark! Engage the target with extreme caution, we would not condone any act of reckless bravado – or in literal terms, dumb decisions that would only lead you to your death."
Ignoring the loud masculine voice, Mark propelled himself forward. He had a lot of juice left, but would not be able to maintain that advantage if the target kept swarming him with monsters. He calmed down, airing his head and settling all his thoughts. The moment he landed on the building, he shot forth again, leaving the minion army for his comrades to handle themselves.
"Roar!" The monster roared an explosion of sound occurring around it. It raised its arm, aiming it at the approaching Mark. Energy gathered around his hand, causing the space around it to warp – it was as if a hole was being torn in the space around it. The sound was alien, crackling like a flame and screeching like the sound of a feral bat.
"What the–!"
[All Defence Systems Activated, Defence now at 402%]
A massive line of energy streaked forth from the monster's arm, it obliterated the clouds as it advanced, rending the space around it. Once the monster fired, everyone finally recognised the weapon it utilised in battle. It was Armageddon – the ultimate doomsday weapon lost in the ancient war, a weapon that was powerful enough to erase civilisations from the planet.
Hovering before the ancient terror – only one thought crossed his
mind, "What did he see across the river?"