[A/N: Alright, so this one is not really...as happy as the last one. Of course, not every mission the Delta Squad has is going to succeed. Anyways, it was either this or a super depressing story that I'm thinking about doing (just as a sort of project, don't worry), and I chose to do this. Really sorry about missing out on typing a chapter a day like I wanted to yesterday, but I was really busy and I hope y'all don't mind. I did, I'll admit I'm a bit of a workaholic, and I don't have as much time to do this or YouTube videos as I would like, not to mention I'm working on finishing up the manuscript for one of the two books I'm planning on publishing by the end of this school year (by "finishing up" I mean typing, btw), so I'm pretty busy most of the time. Anyways, not what you all were here for, so I'm just going to go ahead and jump into the story. Just a warning, this is going to be a pretty intense chapter, so warnings for blood and gore, as well as just the Fernals in general. Love you all, and I'll see you at the end of this chapter (maybe).]
"Maybe we shouldn't be doing this. I mean, this isn't like the compounds. This is a military base, Del." Marc comments over the comlink. I shrug off the ominous feeling I've been having ever since we began this mission and throw on a fake front.
"It's going to be fine, Marc. Don't stress about it, alright?" I reply.
"I'm scared too." One of the younger teens, an eighth grader named Felix Dir, announces from behind me. I flick the comlinks off and smile back at him.
"Everything's going to be okay, alright? It's just a simple mission. Get in, wreck as much as we can, get out, and blow it to hell." I shrug like it's no big deal. It isn't a big deal, though.
It's a huge deal.
Originally, I didn't want any of the cadets(anyone new to training, but normally they're the fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth and ninth graders) to come on the mission unless they were above eighteen, just because of how dangerous the Fernals are and how ruthless. I crouch down and study the walls of the Fernal base for any more guards we didn't manage to see the first time. None seem to have come on, and the guards' routine seems to be the same, which is good. Amber and Timothy are leading a second group against one of the other Fernal bases on the south side of the Los Angeles area. Timothy convinced me to have the cadets split between the groups.
One of the other cadets besides Felix, Oliver Winter, grins and cocks his rifle over one shoulder. A stupid idea, really, but not exactly unexpected from a freshman male. "C'mon, man. We'll be fine! It's just a little mission, that's all! Like Delta said, we get in, we wreck it all, get out, and blow the bastards to hell." He replies, winking at Felix jokingly. Felix still doesn't look convinced that this will be easy.
"Alright, everyone. Let's get moving." I announce, standing up and hooking the binoculars onto my belt. "We have a lot of work to do."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
We slip in low, our group of fifteen dwarfed by the size of the Fernals. Some of them are enormous--they make elephants seem like midgets--and thankfully Oliver and his buddies keep their mouths shut. I fire my grappling hook up into one of the towers (we managed to hack their video systems beforehand--they won't notice us for a few minutes, and by then we should be out of there), and pull myself up the side. The others follow me obediently, and the usual weight of leadership seems heavier than before. Not just because this is an extremely important mission--we can't afford to fail in even one area of this mission or else we could lose this entire war. But because they're all so young--the only person other than me who isn't fourteen or younger is Marc, who's taking up the rear.
We slip into the ventilation system, which thankfully are made for Fernal lungs and not humans', because they need a lot more air to go down into the subterranean areas of their bases. It's sort of strange, really, how different humans and Fernals are, but at the same time how similar. Hey! Not the time for this, you moron. Think about species differences later; you have a world to save! I shout at myself mentally as we slip through the vents. Something else hits me--a sense of incoming danger, I'm not sure what--and I know the second the sound hits my ears that it's too late.
There's a short, muffled, scream, and I glance behind me.
"Penny!" Someone hisses, their voice barely a whispered whimper. The absolute horror is evident in their voice.
"Let me back there." I order Felix, who's directly behind me. I crawl by him (the Fernals' vents are wide but not tall, maybe eighteen inches tall tops), and push by everyone else to get to Penelope Winter, including her brother.
She's laying there in a pool of her own blood, eyes wide and pained. She's still breathing, but it's ragged, and she's staring up at the ceiling of the vent. "I-I couldn't..." Her friend, Mackenna Rudd, gives me a horrified and mournful look.
There's a slash across Penelope's throat, and multiple others across her stomach. I'm not entirely sure what happened, and I can't see Marc. Some sort of metal wall's popped up between us and the last three members of the group. Pretty soon it becomes obvious the wall's also cut Penelope in half horizontally. I pull on the comlink. "Marc, you okay back there?" I ask, For a heart-stopping moment, the only thing that comes through is pure static.
Then his voice comes through. There's muffled crying in the background. "Yeah. We're alive. Probably traumatized in Fierro's case, but alive." He admits. "I'm sitting between Fierro and Jackson and...you know." He takes a shuddery breath, and I know immediately not to ask about what happened. I glance back at Penelope. She's very obviously dead by now, her eyes staring up at the ceiling blankly and without any of their famous light. I close my eyes for a second.
"Head back to base. Leave her there." I sigh after a moment, having a difficult time forcing the words out but knowing that we cannot risk bringing her body back. It's too likely for the Fernals to find her blood leading them back to the base, and there's no way I'm going to risk over two thousand people's lives for the sake of one corpse. Keep it down. You need to be strong for everyone else. Especially for Oliver.
The sheer horror and vulgarity of the situation hits me.
Oliver is just a freshman, a couple years older than his sister.
Penelope was ten. She was a fifth grader.
And now she's dead.
I take another deep breath, the stench of blood hitting my nose. I have to fight down a wave of nausea, and I turn and crawl back to the front. I keep leading everyone else in silence. From the look on Oliver's face as I pass him, he knows full well what just happened to his sister.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
We run into another problem while setting up the incendiary bombs. A young Fernal decides to break from the patrol route and just happens to come across us. Of course, I take point and attack immediately. Oliver joins me, wrapping his infamous garrote around the Fernal's neck and holding it tight as I lunge and ram my blade in between the Fernal's jaw and neck. His eyes are narrowed and reddish, and it's obvious he's been fighting back tears for a while now. The Fernal lets out a choking noise and crumples, eyes rolling back into his head and collapses to the ground. Oliver and I dart out from under his body(he's roughly the size of a six month old giraffe, so he's pretty big for an adolescent, but his horns aren't defined well enough for him to be an adult). "Charges set?" I demand, glancing over my shoulder. One of the other cadets, Winona Tyler, finishes typing something into the keypad.
"Let's go." She stands up, looking much older than a freshman. Her black hair hangs in a thick fishtail braid over one shoulder, and her narrowed brown eyes indicate she's determined to finish this up and get revenge on the Fernals.
"Not so fast." Another voice announces from the doorway. I scowl at one of the first Fernals I'd ever met.
"Cala."
I scowl up at her. She's an adult now, and she's huge. Her horns twist up in wicked spirals, and she's big enough to dwarf an whale. She seems to have gained an adult coat too, shedding her midnight purple fur and trading it for what looks like a mix of scales, leathery flesh, and the deep violet fur common of most Fernals. Her claws gleam like polished ivory, miniature crescents emerging from her feet and ready to slash someone apart.
For some reason, I want her to survive. But not because I'm attached to her or anything.
Because I know who she is.
"Little human. I remember you." She muses, tilting her head as her eyes fall on me.
I smile, feigning happiness at this. "Aw, that's such a pleasing fact. Obviously, I remember you too. Been quite a bit since I had Sting at your neck, hasn't it?" I ask, smirking at her. She growls and her face twitches in irritation.
"You dare speak to me that way. Obviously, you know who I am now, don't you?" She demands, and I grin at her mawkishly, while gesturing to the others to run.
"Of course, Princess." I reply, arching an eyebrow. "So...how many of your buddies have to die before you Fernals leave?"
She laughs once, obviously not noticing the others as they vanish, probably due to the fact she's so focused on me. "Us? Leave? My dear Delta, surely you must be mistaken. If anyone's leaving, it's going to be you."
I smile at her even wider. "Well, then, I think you need to tell your mother something." I drop the smile and flare my wings, and she steps away with enormous eyes.
"You're the Harbinger..." She trails off, but I ignore the reference to yet another Fernal mystery I'm not entirely sure of.
"Tell your mother that the humans are never going to back down, and that if she wants our planet," I take a few steps towards her threateningly, and she backs up, "Then she will have to pry its ashes from our cold, dead grasp." I keep my voice level and cold. "And she's going to have to face off with me alone before that will ever happen. Hiding away in her fortress, surrounding by thousands of Fernals will never win her this war. But she won't win anyways. I'll die before that ever happens."
She stares at me and slinks away. Well, actually, she teleports away in a burst of purple mist. Okay, that's new. I muse, glancing up at the tunnel. It reaches all the way up the six subterranean levels, and it's a straight shot to the sky. Spreading my wings, I crouch down and launch up into the air at full speed. My wings claw at the air and I hit the night air high above us with a whoosh. I can see my group running out of the base, and I whip out my gun and shoot the guards who spot them with deadly aim. The guards crumple, my shots finding their brains and killing them instantly.
I can see Cala bolting too, heading for what my guess is probably another place where she can teleport to her mother. Good. Someone has my message. I muse, smiling. I swoop down to my group. "Delta!" Marc calls as they run out under the base gates. We have to get three hundred yards away before we blow it to hell, and it seems like forever. The agonizing moments pass where I'm flying backwards with Marc guiding me, aiming for the Fernals trying to follow us. This was one of the missions we couldn't bring Echo or Rover and the other Orions or Legends on in case it failed. We didn't want our tech at such a high risk of being stolen or captured by the enemy.
We hit three hundred yards and the automatic trigger on the bombs goes green. Moments later, the concussion wave rocks the sky and the ground all at once and Oliver trips. There's a crack as his gun goes off and the bullet tears across my left calf, but I don't care (long story short, torture means you have a high pain threshold after two and a half years of it. It's not fun, though). "Delta Squad, mission accomplished! How's Epsilon doing?" I shout through the comlink.
"Epsilon succeeded too!" Jace cheers, obviously happy. "Great job, Jaeger!"
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The next day, we have a candle service for the people we lost. Penelope's not the only one who died yesterday, but unfortunately not everyone died because of a mission. Two of them are a mother and her son (sadly enough, Penelope's aunt went into premature labour due to the shock of hearing Penelope had died during the mission. Marc had to call back a few moments after she died, and we spent the next six hours after returning from the mission fighting to keep her alive). The other four people are all deaths caused by the war or by the mission--Alex Devon, a twenty-year old college student who died from an infected slash caused by a Fernal; Moira Gold, a seventh grader on Epsilon, who died from a stray bullet (no one knows where it came from but she died when everyone thought we'd won); Leo Richards, a junior, hit by stray shrapnel (also on Epsilon); and Fiona Gray, who didn't tell anyone she'd gotten hurt by one of the Fernals during the mission, and managed to kill the bastard that did it, but died anyways.
This is your fault. You were the one who convinced them to go on those missions. You led them to their deaths. My mind keeps taunting darkly, and I can't help but think throughout the services (which are deathly silent), that it was absolutely my fault and I caused all of it. She was ten. She should never have been on that mission. You fool. Oliver lost his sister and his aunt and his nephew because of you. Seven people are dead. Because of you.
We keep silent for the entirety of the day, except for those of us who can't do that. "We need to do something about this. They're going to threaten the slave camps if we don't move soon." Jace muses, glaring down at the map. The loss of Penelope and the others has put everything into perspective, especially with what we discovered during the mission yesterday.
We have nothing to lose, and everything to gain.
But we have very little time to do it.
"What do you think, Delta?" Timothy asks, meeting my gaze. He looks a little bit more concerned and a little more colder today, and I frown down at the map. My eyes dart along the lines of the wrecked city, sketching out every angle of attack we have and every single way this could go wrong.
"We need to proceed with Project Banner." I announce, saying it for the first time in front of nearly everyone. The only two people who knew beforehand were Timothy and Gwen.
"Wait, what?" Gwen begins, glancing at Timothy. "Delt, that could kill you."
I look at her. "We have to."
"Hold on, Project Banner? What's Project Banner?" Jace prompts, glancing from me to Timothy to Gwen for some sort of help. "Does this have anything to do with the Hulk?"
"Something really, really stupid." Timothy replies rather cryptically. I roll my eyes.
"If this succeeds, it's not stupid." I retort, shooting him a glare. "I can do it, Timothy. I made this place, didn't I?"
He gestures around us. "This is nothing, Delta. But four huge, flying warships?" He takes a step towards me, even though I'm barely shorter than he is now. "It's insane, Delta. If you can't do this, then you die."
"I am more than willing to die. If I have to die--" I begin, but he cuts me off.
"Delta--" Oh, no. Don't you frickin dare try to stop me.
"No. People have died, Timothy!" I snap, slamming my hands on the holomap. "Penelope and Alex and Moira and Leo and Fiona--because I sent them on that mission. They died so we could do this. So we could build the Banner, the Liberty, the Vanguard, and the Paladin. I'm not going to let that be in vain, and if I'm not willing to sacrifice myself as easily as I would sacrifice other people then I have failed at doing what every leader should be willing to do." I snarl, scowling at him. "I'm building these, whether you want me to or not."
He takes a deep breath, obviously irritated by me. "You are a stubborn moron, but I'm not going to let you do this alone." He replies. "What do you need?"
I glance down at the map. "First? Probably a lot of space."
[A/N: Alright, sorry for Penelope's brutal death. Anyways, I better get going soon. I hope you all have a nice day/evening/night/whatever. You don't have to, though--I can't make decisions for you, now can I? Anyhow, see y'all tomorrow! Thanks for reading! :3]