She pushed herself off of her cot with a lazy yawn, rubbing her sleep misted eyes as she glanced around. It was the same as always, the same cold, dark metal interior surrounding the barracks that were packed with lumpy bunks. As she shook her head, she sent her messed brown hair flailing about as strode off unsteadily to her locker. She always hated mornings. Nothing ever happened in the morning and it seemed like just a waste of perfectly good time that could be used for sleep, but never the less a job had to be done. She quickly swung open her locker and gingerly plucked her clothing from their respective racks before pausing. The barracks seemed strangely empty today. Maybe she had woken up late…it wouldn’t have been the first time that she was late for her shift, but it hardly mattered at her position. She gave a blunt shrug before walking to the cover of her bunk to slip on her outfit as needed before sitting on her cot once more.
She sat fully dressed, her Kevlar tightly packed against her chest, willing itself to protect her no matter what as she passed her gloved fingers along the smooth exterior. She had never been one for the fancy uniform of her rank but something about its sleek, black appearance felt so right to her. While it came across as intimidating on more than one occasion, it still felt good to have. Almost as a badge of honor to herself. She give a cheeky smirk before glancing aside to the covers of her cot to spot a pair of blood red circles staring back at her, almost as if daring her to summon the gal to place a finger on them. She furrowed her brow defiantly, extending a hand and accepting the challenge as she held the object up to eye level to inspect it better. It was her mask, broad and black with an ominous red visor.
As she peered into the visor, she could just barely make out the contorted reflection of her visage. Her bright emerald eyes were tinted red by the mask, though they retained their pensiveness. Her now neat brown hair reached for the floor, though were cut short just at her shoulders before beginning to curl around her cheeks as if gently brushing them. Her peachy skin was bathed in red by the reflection as well, but what was more was what she saw by looking into the mask. Almost…like another part of herself. A part of her that she liked, but one that she fought hard to control. She was a solider, after all. Being in service for as long as she has had sent some over the edge, and placed others six feet under.
She closed her eyes before giving a gruff chuckle and leaning back before falling back onto her bunk, her hair splaying about.
“I don’t plan on going anywhere just yet…” she muttered to herself before tucking her hair back into the recesses of her helmet and clipping the mask into place. “Unit 21100 is on duty, 10-8.” She announced in her monotone way of speaking over radio. She had a job to do.
As she strode about the Nexus, her skin chilled under her suit, causing goose bumps to rise along her skin. She always hated the temperatures of the sub-levels of the Nexus. She gave a faint shiver before making a mental note that she’d have to talk to Logistics about the sub-level temperatures. But that was the least important thing to worry about in the vast sea of worries of her usual schedule. Striding by the med-bay she could hear the faint but usual moans and groans that seemed to just barely make its way past the doors, belonging to medical machinery and patients. This, however, was not her goal location, she trudged further down the hall before pushing the training center doors open and walking in. Her primary concern of today was the ranking structure of Section 3. Today, she would choose and Oh-One for her section. In truth, it was something she should have done quite some time ago, though no other units fit the position at the time. 211 slowly progressed to the meeting room, walking inside once she reached the door. As she climbed the steps to the podium she tapped at the side of her mask as if a memory had dashed across her mind. Units! That’s right, she needed to call the units down to announce the news.
Rolling her eyes indignantly at herself she promptly called over the radio, “CP requests all units, location, report in?”
For a time, she remained silent, listening carefully as the status reports flooded into her mask and painted a vague picture in her mind of each unit’s situation before giving a faint sigh and promptly commanding. “All Section 3 Personnel, report to the meeting room.”
“Rodger that, inbound.”
“Inbound, ma’am.”
“On my way.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Moments passed before four lone units wandered into the room, their boots squeaking faintly on the glass of the city map, the lighting doing little to illuminate their already dull urban-camo uniforms. One of the units in particular stuck out from the small group as she quietly strode over to the steps, taking her place beside 211. Her slightly bulkier white mask gleamed in the faintly lit podium, though her equally red visor radiated discipline. 211 gave a well-tempered nod of greeting to her Officer, 777 before turning to the trio before her as they looked up to her, their expressions well hidden behind their faceplates.
“602, 182 and 509; welcome.” She began, resting her forearms on the rails of the podium before leaning on them. “Before saying anything, I’d just like to express my gratitude to you three. You are the best units of Section 3 to date. You are the best we have to offer…” he voice trailed off as she lolled her head aside, her voice heightening despite her vocoder. “And you all make my job worthwhile…to know that there are still units around who care.”
211 paused, looking down at the trio expectantly, though her mind floating off to another location momentarily. These three, while only Oh-four and Oh-five now, had been amongst the most elite and capable units of their time. It seemed a bit off to be leading them herself when quite frankly, it could well be the other way around. However, her thoughts were buffeted away by their replies that seemed to come in unison.
“Thank you, ma’am!”
She gave a cheerful nod as her mood picked up, the anticipation of this moment bubbling inside her like a steaming kettle of tea. “That being said, Section 3 is in dire need of an Oh-one rank which should have been decided ages ago, but it is only now that I have decided to do it. The reason I am telling you all this is because, on my own I have been unable to decide. You are all capable and therefore, I will be holding a series of tests to decide which of you will take this rank.”
As she scanned their body language, an impish grin crept across her face as she saw their figured perk and their demeanors become more attentive.
That’s what I like to see! She thought to herself giddily.
“In the meantime, I would like you all to stay put. 777,” she commanded before turning about to face her officer. “You will come with me.”
777 gave a confirming nod as they both filed out of the meeting room before stopping at breaching. “I’ll need you to help me set up an advanced breaching course. They’re seasoned units despite their rank, they should know this, okay?” 211 requested as she lowered her hands to her belt, slipping her thumbs into the loops of her belt, as was her habit.
“Sure, no problem. I got you.” 777 chided as she gave a snarky thumbs up and led the way into breaching.
Several minutes had passed as they gathered obstacles from storage to place within the breaching room, the air about them so heavily engrossed in their work seemed natural, almost…peaceful. As 211 finished carefully pinning about a flash grenade trap to a door she gave a satisfied sigh, hope stirring full well in her chest. Section 3 was on its way to healing finally.
Suddenly, a sharp screech echoed within her mask, causing her to grip at the sides of her mask, scratching at it.
“SUBMIT TO US.” The shrill, booming voice seemed to wail.
For a moment, she thought she was going mad before she glanced aside to see 777 on one knee, clutching her helmet. What the hell was going on?! She struggled to get a grip, making a break for the breaching entrance before another wave of sound, like the screeching of metal struck her, sending her against a wall. The sounds was maddening, but she refused to give into it. She could make out faint, hoarse radio chatter of units under the voice as they all questioned as to what was going on, but she had no answer.
“I want Logistics on this right now, I don’t like people messing with our stuff!” 211 barked over the radio, as she was met with no opposition. Whatever was going on, it was real. As the screeching command of the mystery signal subsided, the broadcasting system boomed to life with a mysterious voice. As it spoke, a chill ran down her spine. What the hell is going on?! Her mind was racing as her legs took action and subconsciously carried her back into the meeting room where the units were just recovering from the screeching radio broadcast as 777 zoomed in behind her to check on them as well.
“C’mon, get your asses in gear!” 211 shouted crossly, “Shit just got serious!”
At the moment, a familiar voice announced over the radio lazily. “452 is 10-8.”
“Armory, 452! Move it!” 211 ordered only to have 452 give a simple murmur of acknowledgement over the radio.
“Ma’am, I advise we move to the armory as soon as possible. We’re ready to go.” 602 confirmed as she marched beside 211, his towering stature looking down at her though his tone was wary and submissive.
Within moments, the units pounded towards the armory and begin to load up. As they did so, the faint radio chatter mentioned the plaza status being in Code Yellow.
“Section 3 is inbound to Precinct 1.”
As the units rushed out of the Nexus, events were in full swing. A hearty blaze was roaring within the UCH, slamming against the windows and tinting them charcoal before bashing them out forcefully. Citizen gathered fretfully at the base of the UCH, some wandering outside in fits of terror. The scurried out, eyes wide and eyebrows scorched. 211’s eyes darted about the scene under her mask before turning to her units.
“777, 602 and 182 go inside the UCH and evacuate any stragglers. 452 and 509, you’re with me. Help get the citizens away from the UCH! Move it!” She turned away as the units scattered about, doing their orders. As 452 and 509 herded citizens away from the blaze, 211 sighed impatiently over the radio. “I need logistics to bring out barricades to for a perimeter. I want this blaze handled.”
Almost immediately on cue, units poured from the Nexus like an angered ant hill, Logistics carrying out barricades and promptly fastening them to the ground about the perimeter 211 ordered as units left to guard HAPs in both P1 and P2. As smoke tunneled out of the UCH windows, billowing into the already mucky night sky adding an extra coat of darkness about the city, a faint rumble stretched across the city.
“What’s that noise?” 211 gasped, glancing about the city as 452 and 509 mirrored her action. As if in response to her question, a bright light blinded her, a roaring, massive figure screeching to a halt just beside her. In her confusion, she reached around for her AR2, the beginnings of an attack order rising her throat before coming to a halt. A brief smirk crossed her cheeks before relaxing herself once more. The bulky grey body of a vehicle was before her, the stop hatch flinging open as a figure of a unit poked its head out, giving a brief wave.
“495, you crazy bastard!” 211 muttered good humoredly under her breath as the unit shouted towards her.
“Support APC, ready and able!” 495 shouted before pointing the hose towards the UCH windows. Almost immediately, a forceful blast jutted out of the nozzle as gallons of water careened into the flames, batting them back violently, causing it to erupt in a fit of steam.
“509, help man to P3 HAP! 495, keep it up!” 211 commanded before cheering on. By the looks of things, this would end rather quickly and the faster that happened, the faster they could search for the mystery broadcaster. That simple thought alone seemed to fuel her, causing a bright flame of excitement to sizzle in her eyes.
As the minutes carved into hours, the fire was almost all gone, 777 and her team had already exited the UCH and the citizens were a safe distance from the UCH before something happened that ran ripples up her spine. As she watched the progress, the radio within her mask buzzed to life as the sheepish voice of a familiar unit, 911, chimed in her ears, brazen with worry.
“Umm…c-confirmed armed 647E’s at Embassy HAP!”
At that instant, 211 and 777 glanced at one another and a similar, unspoken message seemed to pass between the two. 777 gave a nod before crossing her arms.
“Go, I’ll take over here.” She commented, her attempts at sounding nonchalant rather poor as cracks of tension split through her voice.
211 gave a brisk nod before dashing past the Nexus. As she did so, a brief flash of black caught her eye before coming to a stop to stare at the well-lit Nexus steps where a single Section 2 unit stood.
“286, on me!” she commanded as the unit rolled his shoulder before snapping to attention and following in suit.
The pair halted at the HAP, both panting from having rocketed through the Embassy tunnel on their way to the radio message. Several units were already surrounding the HAP with their secondaries active though none dared to poke their head around to check inside P3.
“286, secondary out and watch that manhole.” 211 spoke, though not looking at him as she jerked her left shoulder, sending her AR2 bouncing into her arms before taking it out and radioing, “Attention all units; Plaza status is now code red.”
“Rodger.”
“Copy that.”
“Affirmative.”
She pressed against the corner that led into the P3 HAP as she glanced across to see 911 fidgeting anxiously, her 9mm drawn but held low and pointing to the ground. 211 narrowed her eyes at her under her mask, though said nothing. After recent events regarding 911, she had nothing to say to her. At that moment, a brief pang of guilt seared through her. She’s have to do something to improve their relationship at some point but she quickly pushed it aside, returning to the task at hand. Slowly, she poked her head around the corner, only to see several figured in the sickly light of the P3 alleys, their hands held at waist height with sizable objects. She quickly snapped back from the edge before reporting.
“Armed anti-citizens confirmed at embassy HAP. Requesting back up.”
“Rodger that, ma’am. 602 and 777 inbound. UCH fires dealt with.”
Before long, the pair had made their way to the HAP and they waited.
The wait began to grow unbearable as 211 occasionally glances about inside of P3, though nothing happened. Her patience was running thin. What the hell was going on? They were clearly armed, why weren’t they doing anything? As she glanced about, 777 occasionally reported about a target or two poking their head around the corner before 211 gave an aggravated huff.
“That’s it. Next time they poke their heads around, fire a warning shot. Don’t hit them, we won’t want them to open fire, just to back off.”
“Can do.” 777 replied in anticipation as she inhaled deeply, aligning her visor with her AR2 sights. The seconds that passed afterwards seemed to be an eternity, almost as if the units were held frozen in place before a trio of shot slashed the silence that gripped the HAP menacingly.
As they sounded off, she could hear a couple startled shouts from the direction of P3 that made her smirk. That’s what they get. As 211 glanced again to confirm the shot, 777’s radio report boomed over through her ears. It had begun…
“Up above,” she cried, diving for cover. “They’re on the roofs! That’s why they've been stalling!”
Before the other units could so much as glance up, the echoing rapid fire of bullets zooming everywhere as the shower of lead descended upon them. Unit darted left and right, scattering amidst the assault, hollering shouts of despair and terror. It was an ambush! Blood roared through 211’s ears as she dashed for cover. Would she make it?! God, she should have known! How could she have been so stupid?!
As she made the dash, she slid behind a metal barricade before a metal cylinder clanked its way from the HAP and unto the center of the street. Alarm roared through her, though her realization was about the same as everyone else.
“Grenade!” They all shouted, diving further aside, tucking their heads under their arms.
The sudden explosion left 211 deafened and completely dazed, stumbling about the concrete like a breached fish, gasping for water. This was too real; a real rebellion! As she recovered, she could just make out the 647E’s pouring from the P3 HAP in a single wave, there must have been at least a dozen! She heard a holler of pain to her left, as she glanced aside she could spot a rebel poking his head just out of the manhole with a weapon aimed to 298. His leg was bleeding about the concrete as he stumbled away, tripping over his legs. As he ran, another unit covered him, firing at the citizen and causing them to slink back into cover hastily.
“It’s an ambush! 11-99, Officers need help!” she cried over her radio as her and her units erupted into return fire, 911 at her side doing her best to keep cover and fire as well. Bullets sailed from either side as the anti-citizens dashed across the street, taking cover and the units began to be pushed back. As minutes passed by, the units were pushed back to the lot beside the Embassy, taking cover behind the barricades. As she occasionally poked her head around, firing into the crowd of rebels, time seemed to slow. Adrenaline pumped through her veins at an alarming pace, making her almost light headed. The trigger of her AR2 was cocked all the way back as clip after clip hurtled into the crowd, accompanied by the fire of her fellow units. Bullets darted by her mask, bashing the walls and spraying pebbles about the cover, leaving gaping holes where cement had once been.
As she fired, a blur of movement scurried past in the corner of her eye. She swept her AR2 around to aim towards it but it was too late. She rocketed backwards, slamming her back against the metal of the barricade as a plethora of rounds tore past her Kevlar and thumped against her chest. Her breath seemed to escape her, refusing to re-enter her lungs as she lay on her back.
“I-I’m hit! A-all un-units….fall bac-k!” She hissed over the radio through gritted teeth. As she glanced down, she could see the gurgling scarlet ooze from her wounds and spill onto the pavement, dying them a gruesome red. 911 was staring at her, her expression hidden under her mask though she could guess that there was a horrified look on her innocent face. A meek smirk planted itself on 211’s face as she coughed painfully, blood jetting from her mouth and out of her mask filter. 911 recoiled and with good reason. She could see the reflection of the bright blood in her visor tint.
At that instant, 911 grabbed at 211, doing her best to drag her into better cover.
“Hang on!” she shouted over the gunfire as she pushed her backwards.
“R-retreat, dammit!” 211 groaned again, this time much louder despite her mind bending pain.
As the units doubled back, the rebels didn’t let up. If anything, the gun fire seemed to only become worse. Beginning to back into the tunnels, she gasped faintly as she felt a pair of arms grasp her. Glancing up lazily, she could make out 777’s faceplate, dirtied from where she took cover. 211 couldn’t help but give a strained chuckle.
“Ha…haha,” she began before a cough cut through her speech, only to start up again. “W-what…a way to g-go, hu-uh?” she managed, wincing as her life blood trailed under her while being dragged into the tunnel.
“Shut the fuck up, you’re not dying on me here! Do you hear me?!” 777 boomed, her tone unusually harsh, though her body language betraying her hardened act.
She stayed silent for a time as the muted swishing of passing bullets and shrieking units echoed through the dark of the tunnel. Closing her eyes as she was dragged she finally spoke, her tone hoarse.
“I…I’m not t-too sure….this time…” she began before being cut off as a searing pain cut through her right leg, causing her to wail in agony. “Aaaaugh!”
“I need a medic!” 777 hollered over the madness, her voice oddly prominent against the situation’ clear amongst the mix of gunfire and orders. “I need a medic right fucking now!”
Reinforcements had already rolled their way up the tunnel, doing their best to aid in return fire. The world around her began to dull, her vision tunneling as most of her body had begun to go numb.
Is this what death feels like? She thought bitterly, glancing aside to see a stretcher already in place for her. In all time of her service, she had amputated many citizens, but never once had she contemplated what death would actually be like for her. Part of her wanted to go out like this…in the glory of battle, but as the chill of lifelessness crept up her legs, fear stirred in her stomach.
I-I don’t want to die! She wept silently, she could feel a trick of warmth slither down her cheek within her mask.
Not yet…there’s so much I can do! So much…so much…She clenched her teeth as a fresh ripple of pain shot through her from being set onto the stretcher. She damned this rebellion, she damned the Union, and she damned the world!
Damn them all! Her mind crackled with rage frothed lightning, though doing nothing to stop the gentle trickle of tears from rolling down her cheeks, pathetically washing away the blood that stained her lips. She was steadily carried off to the medical tent, her body growing colder as time moved on.
“Get her on a bed, ASAP!” One of the units hollered as they wheeled 211 inside the train station medical tent.
As she woefully glanced around, she could see several rows of beds as well as wide-eyed citizens huddled about the walls of the train station. She narrowed her eyes disdainfully under her mask as she passed them. How elating it must be to see a Universal Union Commander of the Combine Civil Authority in such a state for a citizen.
Setting her down to the ground, she glanced up to see 101 hovering over her.
“You’re gonna be alright, 211!” he encouraged, bending down before slipping a forearm under her knees and cradling her back with his other arm to carry her to a bed. This would be much more embarrassing if not for the fact that she were dying. But then again, she was in too much pain to really give a damn. He gingerly splayed her about the bed before turning to another unit. “706, attend to her quickly. She needs help, I have to check on other units.”
706 gave a determined nod before scurrying up to 211, looking down at her. As he began his work, 211 shook her head, lifting a hand to her mask shakily before yanking it off and tossing it on the bed beside her. She stared up at him, her emerald eyes dull and glazed with pain. 706 stopped his treatment for a moment, clearly dumbfounded.
“N-not this…t-time…” 211 mumbled almost incoherently.
“Ma’am?” 706 questioned, leaning back in puzzlement. “What…do you mean…?”
211 flashed him a gentle smile before wincing at the effort and reaching for her mask again. After some effort to getting it in hand she held the microphone end to her mouth before speaking into it in a strained fashion.
“S-Section 3…this is 2-211 speaking,” she started, coughing blood onto the mattress as she paused. “It…it has b-been an honor….to lead you. Y-you are all th-the…best units I’ve ever…h-had the ple-easure of leading.” She paused for a moment as she could hear the faint murmurs of protesting units though hardly able to make them out due to her fading consciousness and the fact that her mask was far from her ears. “R-remember…we are the Unions…I-Iron Fist. We a-are elite….we are…” she paused once more to take a gasp. “Elite!”
Her vision blurred heavily as her head gave out, falling back onto the mattress. She could just make out 706 dart out of the tent, shouting for assistance. Her lids grew heavy as they began to fall and close the world out around her. As everything went black, she could just hear her bio-signal loss message.
“BIO-SIGNAL OF UNIT 21100 LOST AT: TRAINSTATION. ALL GROUND UNITS ASSEMBLE AND REPORT…”
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