Oblivion

Oblivion

Book II of the Eternity Series

Casey S. Townsend

Published by Casey S Townsend at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 Casey S Townsend

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Books written by Casey S Townsend can be obtained either through the author's official website:

www.eternitynovel.com

or through select, online book retailers

This book is for my beautiful daughter, Chariot Irene, and her amazing mother, my wife, my friend, Casey Lauren Townsend

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Epilogue

Chapter 1

Even in the parking lot, Elli could sense excitement all around the building like a fog that hangs over the water. She closed the car’s passenger door behind her and straightened her blouse, absently fluffing out imaginary wrinkles from both the blouse and her jeans. Her fiery orange hair was tucked under a wool beanie, with a few rogue strands finding their way down to her shoulders.

Abel got out of the car a little more slowly. Not lagging behind, but simply lacking the enthusiasm Elli exuded. He also wore a knit wool beanie and a designer hooded sweatshirt to block out the slight chill in the air.

It had rained all last night and throughout most of the day, making an already cool summer night outright cold. Rain was nothing new in the little city of Moses Lake, Washington, but Abel took it as a sign to just stay home and watch the Seahawks pre-season game. And because of the rain, the event had to be moved from the outdoor amphitheater to a little church a few blocks away. But rain or shine, Elli was not missing this.

She smiled at her struggling partner with a giddy, girlish grin. He smiled back and moved around the back of the car to take her hand.

The low thump of a heavily amped kick drum rumbled through the parking lot, and Elli squeezed Abel’s hand. We’re missing it! She squealed.

They just started, Abel replied calmly as she pulled on his hand to hurry him along. It’s not even thirty seconds after eight. We haven’t missed it.

This was all Elli had been talking about for months now. Ever since the papers had announced that Titus, the famous Siler and Cleric, would be hosting a revival, she had been begging Abel to clear literally everything from his schedule to make sure they could attend.

Abel was self-admittedly not a hard-core follower of Roth. He kept the rules as best as any mortal man can and frankly didn’t care much for being told that he needed to do better. But Elli had such a way about her. She didn’t tease or guilt him. Something about her just made him want to be better. And she was convinced this revival would change his life. How could he say no?

He also suspected that this had something to do with her desire to get married. They had been dating for six years and living together for three and every couple of months she would casually mention how nice it would be to actually tie the knot and be Mrs. Abel McCloud. When the hints were more direct and required a response, he would come up with any excuse he could think of; usually something along the lines of ‘we aren’t ready to get married’, ‘it’s too expensive’, or the best were when he could put the blame on himself by saying, I’m just not mature enough to be a husband.

But that last one was coming back to bite him. He had bought him self-help books and tried to get him to befriend older, married men, and when she described the revival as ‘life-changing’, he knew what that meant.

But she was adorable. All the fire that’s typically associated with red-heads was somehow bundled up and traded for unnatural kindness. He was lucky to have her and he knew it.

One step at a time, he thought. First he would get through this revival, and then maybe he would think more about the marriage thing.

Elli was practically jumping up and down when they reached the door. She was the one who always insisted that it was gentlemanly to open the door for your lady, but those thoughts were the farthest thing from her mind as she jumped in front of him and flung the door wide.

They were hit with an audible barrage as tangible as a gust of wind. The band was in full swing with pounding drums, wailing guitars and three vocalists at the front of the stage, pulling the crowd into songs of worship to Roth.

The building was a small church capable of holding close to a hundred and fifty people, and tonight it was standing room only. Men and women were occupying the space in front of every chair, standing and lifting their hands and swaying back and forth. Others were dancing up and down the aisles in oblivious ecstasy.

To Abel, it was chaos bordering on madness. To Elli, it was sweet rapture, and she couldn’t stand being apart from it anymore.

Still holding his hand, she dragged Abel through the crowd toward the mass of people standing at the front, but stopped when he tugged back. He was pointing toward some empty chairs near the middle of the room. Elli wanted so badly to be right at the front, but she knew Abel would be uncomfortable in the crowd. The chairs were only a few rows back, and it was a decent compromise. She nodded and they slid into the row.

The band played for another ten minutes, letting the music grow in intensity with each piece, revving the crowd into a frenzy. When they finally exited the stage, Ellie’s eyes were filled with moisture, a physical outpouring of the emotional eruption she was feeling. She looked at Abel, but he appeared to be stoic, and as they all sat down he might as well have been an emotional desert.

It was to be expected, she thought to herself. He just doesn’t understand yet, and that’s why we’re here tonight. Besides, the real meat of the service was when Titus, the famous Siler gave his message. She prayed silently to herself that Abel would be more open, that he would truly be changed forever tonight.

Titus was well-known, but he was no rock star. When he took the stage, he was greeted with humble applause, but no whooping and hollering from the crowd. He was not necessarily attractive either. At forty-eight years, his short black hair was turning gray, and his five-ten body was growing out at a slow but steady pace, putting his current weight at about two-twenty. Behind his rimless glasses were piercing eyes that were the home to passion and intensity; the staples for a true man of Roth.

Thank you, thank you so much for coming out in this weather tonight, he said into the tiny amplified microphone wrapped around his ear. He spoke with a smooth and soft voice, not at all what one would have expected from a famous public speaker. Of course, it didn’t take Elli by surprise; she had seen so many of his videos online and listened to countless sermons.

Titus paused like he was thinking very hard and strode slowly to the front of the stage. He made a teepee of his fingers, resting his hands on his round stomach.

Roth our God has something very special planned for each one of you, he said, slowly and deliberately, looking into the eyes of the individuals in the crowd.

When I look at you, Titus continued, I see people who have been doing the same thing, day-in-day-out for their entire lives. I see people who come to service because that’s what their parents always did or simply out of obligation.

There were spatterings of Mmm hmm and amen throughout the crowd.

Maybe some of you have been healed before by another Siler through the power of Roth.

More people gave quick shout-outs or waved their hands.

But what has Roth done for you lately? Titus asked the crowd. If he is alive and active in our lives, then why are we bored with him?

Titus came to the edge of the stage and paced along the front. "Because the truth is, he is not active in our lives. There is so much more to Roth than healings! God wants to be an active part of your life, guiding you every step of the way and sharing in all the joys and hardships that life has to offer! Roth has promised us an eternity with him in paradise, but we don’t have to wait till we die to have that."

He closed his eyes and raised both his arms into the air like he was reaching for something. I can feel his spirit is strong here tonight, Titus said. Can you feel him calling to you? He wants to know you personally. If there’s anyone here tonight who wants to go deeper, who wants God to live in him or her, come forward now. Let me lay my hands on you and usher in Roth’s spirit.

Elli could feel the spirit too. The pianist had come back on stage and was playing a soft melody behind Titus’ invitation. She dabbed the water from her eyes and looked around as people were already standing up and moving toward the front.

Then she caught movement out of the corner of her eye and turned her head. Abel was standing up. Abel was standing up! She clasped her hands together in joy and smiled so wide it might have permanently stretched her face a few extra inches. She watched through a fresh flood of tears as he walked down the aisle to where almost a dozen people had already gathered.

Abel felt a slight rush of adrenaline as he moved closer to the front of the room. He knew people were looking at him, but he tried not to look nervous. Something about the way Titus spoke seemed like he was speaking directly to him. He knew that if he really wanted to be with Elli, he needed to get serious and the first place that needed improvement was his spiritual life.

He had never been told that Roth wanted to get to know him on a personal level. It seemed impossible. But it also seemed right.

Abel reached the edge of the stage and looked up at Titus standing on the stage, still holding his arms high and pleading with the people to give their lives to Roth.

Finally, when he must have felt that all were coming forward who were going to, he lowered his hands and opened his eyes.

Wonderful, he said as he gazed lovingly down at the gathering of close to fifty people up front. Roth is so pleased with you, and he is choosing you for something very special.

Then his eyes moved and fell directly on Abel. What’s your name, son?

Abel’s heart jumped. He really didn’t want to be singled out in front of everyone. But what had he expected when he came down? He swallowed his fear and tried to look confident. Abel McCloud, he said.

Abel, are you ready to have your life changed forever? Titus asked him. To begin fresh and new with Roth as your God?

Abel nodded. Yes, I am.

Titus smiled and bent forward over the stage, placed both his hands on Abel’s head and closed his eyes again. I pray to Roth Almighty to come into this man and make him yours. Let his body and soul belong to you in eternity.

Abel kept his eyes open during the prayer. Even as the man was speaking, something strange began to happen. The world around him began to vibrate, the image becoming fuzzy to his eyes.

Then as if the wind itself could take form, he saw vague figures moving through the air around him. One of them came right up to him and touched his arm.

It was not a pleasant touch. It felt strange and intrusive, almost painful. He immediately tried to recoil, but for some reason, he couldn’t move.

The invisible figure seemed to wrap around him and he felt the strange sensation all over his body. He could feel it inside every muscle, bone and vein in him.

This isn’t right, he thought and he began to breathe harder as his mind started to panic.

All at once, he couldn’t feel anything, but he still couldn’t move. He tried to breathe slower only to find that he wasn’t breathing at all. But he didn’t lack oxygen. Somehow instinctively, without being told, he knew why he wasn’t breathing. He didn’t have to.

Am I dead? But he knew he wasn’t dead. He was still standing in the little church. Titus had his hands on his head still and he could hear the murmering of the crowd behind him. What the hell is going on?

Titus took his hands off his head and Abel turned to face the crowd. But Abel didn’t turn. His body turned, and with a horror as sudden and shocking as being doused with ice water, he realized it. He was no longer in control of his own body.

How do you feel, Abel? Titus asked him.

I feel amazing! Abel exclaimed. But it was Abel’s body working outside of his control again.

What’s happening?! Abel tried to shout. Somebody help me! Somebody stop this!

I feel like a brand new person! Abel’s body continued.

The crowd exploded into applause and Titus raised both his hands again. Let the spirit of Roth flow freely through this place! he shouted.

Titus leapt off the stage and began moving through the crowd touching people on the head as he went. As soon as he made physical contact with them, the men and women convulsed, some fell to the ground, others began to shout praises to Roth. Then some began to lift off the ground. The people were levitating, floating free above the floor, some rising almost to the ceiling.

Abel watched in helpless horror as Titus spread this disease through the crowd. With each person he touched, Abel could see the exuberance on their faces. But he could also see the other side. Even though he didn’t know how, Abel could literally see the souls of each person Titus touched separate from their bodies and become a fearful glow, nothing more than a helpless spirit torn from the body, frightened and homeless.

His own body began to levitate, and it was then that Abel realized how detached he really was. As his body rose, Abel stayed fixed to the ground and could do nothing but watch it happen.

He wanted to cry, to sob as he watched his life get torn away and used by someone else. But he couldn’t. He was still equipped with every emotion he had known from life, but he was no longer able to physically release those emotions.

Somehow his gaze fell on Elli. She was several rows back where he had left her bouncing up and down with joy. Titus was moving closer to her, and she reached her hands out to touch him.

No! Abel tried to scream. Elli run! Get out of here! But, of course, it was no use. He was no more able to help her than he could help himself.

Titus stretched his arms out, his fingers touching the hands of people on both sides of him as he moved down the aisle. Elli was next. She reached just a little bit further and grasped Titus’ hand.

All at once, Abel felt himself fall. His body was still floating in the air inside the church, but still somehow he was falling. He could see the church high above him now as if it had a glass floor, getting smaller and smaller. And then it finally disappeared into pure darkness.

He couldn’t see anything or hear anything or feel anything. Every sensory organ had been taken away from him. All he could do now was exist. And yet even without the light, somehow he sensed that he had hit the bottom, reached the end of whatever kind of fall he had just endured.

But then his hearing came back, and immediately he wished it hadn’t. A wicked chorus of screams echoed as if he was in a great cavern. The screams were the embodiment of agony coming from the darkness all around him. But his ears were keen to another type of scream. It sounded as if it came from millions of creatures spiraling and swirling just above him. These were screams of pleasure. The demonic, sadistic sounds of evil.

Feeling came back next and he knew how much better off he had been without his senses. He was naked, completely helpless and vulnerable in every possible way, and he was standing on rock that was as hot as an oven. Abel screamed in pain and tried to remove his feet from the floor, but he had nowhere to go. He tried to move, but immediately smacked into some kind of barrier that was equally as hot as the floor. Desperation and panic flooded his mind but quickly melted into despair as he realized he was completely caged in. He was in a space that was barely five feet by five feet on each side. It wasn’t enough room to even lie down, but who would want to lie down on the boiling hot floor anyway?

There was no way to tell how much time had passed, but at some point, a small light began to grow far off, casting a faint orange glow into the pure darkness. It wasn’t enough to see anything, but the fact that there was any light in this terrible place was a hope to which he would cling.

Abel didn’t want to see what kind of twisted world was around him, but if he remained in total darkness while his body slowly cooked, he would go insane. He tried to focus on the light and realized that it was slowly moving toward him. As it moved closer, it grew brighter but still did nothing to illuminate anything around it. Over the sounds of the screams, he tried to call to whoever was controlling the light.

"Hello! Someone help me!" he called. It occurred to him that if he made too much noise he might attract the attention of whatever evil was flying above him, but he didn’t care. Being in this place all alone and constantly tortured was driving him mad.

The orange light came closer, and Abel could finally start to see a little of what the light illuminated. It was hovering over a narrow path; a walkway carved of rock, high above some bottomless pit.

"Let me out of here!" he screamed with the voice of a lunatic. He could feel his mind getting mushy and the deepest thought he could have now was hope that whoever was carrying this light could get him out of the cage.

The light was closer now, maybe thirty feet off. He could now see that it was a man carrying a lantern, though he couldn’t make out any more specific details than that.

Abel rushed toward it and hit the barrier again. It was a wall made of bars like an animal cage, and he stretched his arms through it toward the light. The bars were searing hot, but he didn’t care; he just needed to reach the light.

Please! Help me! he pleaded to the man.

The man stopped about fifteen feet away and held the light out so he could see Abel inside the cage.

Why should I let you out? the man asked.

A voice! The man had responded! Just that simple reply instantly brought an ounce of sanity and hope back to Abel’s tortured mind.

Because, Abel called, desperate for the right answer. I’m a follower of Roth!

I know, said the man. That’s why you’re here.

Abel was shocked and confused. He was slipping back into insanity again. He could feel his thoughts beginning to run together like a thick mixture of mud and water.

No, Abel said, desperation in his voice, I’ve always professed Roth! I don’t deserve to be punished! I don’t deserve to be sent to hell!

The man laughed. A low, sadistic chuckle. This isn’t hell. Not even close.

Why are you doing this to me? Abel started to cry. His mind was almost gone. It was as if a light inside him was growing dimmer every second. He knew he didn’t have long.

Because a war is being fought, the man said, and your part is still being played.

The man moved right up to the cage. Abel could see him clearly now, though his mind couldn’t grasp all the details. All he could tell was that the man wore all black; long, flowing clothes matched his long, black hair and short, black goatee.

But it was what was behind the man that caught Abel’s attention and ultimately sent him over the edge. Sweeping in and out of the glow of the light was a swarm of wispy black specters. He could only catch glimpses of their enormous bat-like wings and wide mouths filled with razor-sharp teeth as they rushed by.

And they were screaming. These were the creatures making that horrible noise. Worst of all, he could tell by the sound, that they were surrounding his cage, moving closer and closer.

The troops must be fed, the man said with a sick smile on his lips.

With that, the swarm descended on his cage. Abel screamed in terror and pain as they began to consume him.

It was actually happening. After two narrow escapes and what felt like a lifetime of pleading and convincing, Bishop had succeeded in his mission. Gibson Craig, the major of the Cobalt Unit in the Red Horizon Resistance was sitting in the seat right in front of him as they sped their way east on the highway in a military Hummer. And they were on their way to the High Children. It almost felt surreal after all they had been through.

As an added bonus, he had the famous General Bulldog Covey here with them. There would have been no convincing the General to accompany them, but thanks to the high-ups in Red Horizon, here he was, driving the very vehicle that would take them to the High Children. Bishop wasn’t sure what Covey’s purpose in being here was, but all he needed to know was that the Elders wanted him. That was good enough.

It was sometime after midnight, and the moon was hidden behind a thick blanket of clouds making the night exceptionally dark. The Hummer’s headlights cut through the darkness with narrow, yellow beams that barely made a difference.

Bishop couldn’t help but smile a bit as he stared at the back of Gibson Craig’s head. This was more than just a man, and no one even knew it yet. This man would bring the downfall of the Roth. He was single-handedly going to unite the rebel forces and crush the Roth movement once and for all. He didn’t know how it was going to happen exactly, but just knowing that it was coming was exhilarating.

There was still a lot to do. As far as the High Children were concerned, Craig was an unbeliever. It didn’t make him an outcast, but it did make things difficult. It would be hard to fight a spiritual war when you don’t know what you’re fighting, how to fight it, or even what side you’re on. But that would come. It was happening. Bishop was watching destiny unfold right before his eyes.

In the seat directly next to him was Merana Snow. She had fallen asleep, and her head was leaned back against the headrest, her pure, black hair falling on her shoulders. Just on the other side of her, staring out the window, was Chariot Parnell. Bishop had no objections to the two women joining them, but it did seem a bit strange. He was recruiting warriors, and these two were nothing of the sort. But both of them were gifted spiritually: Merana had made huge strides in telekinesis and conjuring while she was a student in Atlanta, and Chariot had only recently discovered that she had the gift of healing. He had a feeling that there was real purpose in them, and that they were also coming along for an express reason.

Bishop snapped back to the present. It’s the next left, he said softly to Covey so as to not wake Merana.

Covey nodded and slowed as he scanned the darkness around them for the street.

The headlights glinted off the green hues of a bent street sign on the left-hand side of the road. Beyond it was a dirt road cutting between towering pines and stretching several miles into the darkness. Covey hit the turn signal and turned onto the road.

The Hummer bounced rather violently when they hit the dirt due to the poor shocks designed more for all-terrain handling than a smooth, comfy ride. Merana’s head wobbled, and she fluttered her eyes as she came awake again.

What happened? she asked groggily.

Just a dirt road, Bishop said. We’re almost there.

And you told him to be here at this exact time? Gibson Craig asked as he turned around in the seat to look at Bishop.

Essentially, yes, Bishop said. He’ll be there. Don’t worry.

The thicket of trees broke and a massive clearing lay sprawling in front of them. But it wasn’t just a field; it was a runway, and sitting on the tarmac was a jet.

It was difficult to tell the jet’s function: From the looks of it, the jet was a passenger plane built for private use, no doubt, to transport the very wealthy very quickly. The aircraft was long, sleek and sharp, and painted entirely in black. But it was also very large. There appeared to be enough room to store an entire unit’s supply for a mission.

I’ll be damned, Covey growled. There was a part of me that didn’t think you’d come through.

Bishop smiled. He knew that’s what everyone had been thinking. He was hoping that in the next several weeks, he would be able to show them a lot more things that would surprise and intrigue them.

Pull up to the back of the plane, Bishop instructed Covey.

As they approached the rear, a large ramp slowly dropped to the ground, and a soft light glowed from inside. Taking the hint, Covey aimed for the ramp.

Chariot looked around at the jet and the runway with mixed expressions of excitement and concern. Where exactly is this going to take us? Where is the High Children headquarters anyway?

I’d rather not say yet, Bishop said. I want us to get a little closer before I tell you.

Why?

In case we get shot down, he answered her. Our location must be kept a strict secret.

You planning on getting us shot down? Covey asked with narrowed eyes.

General, I’m sure in your experience, you prepare for the worst possible scenario, right? That’s all I’m doing. Bishop looked over at Chariot and Merana who were both giving him worried looks. We’re going to make it just fine.

The Hummer hit the bottom of the ramp and began to move up into the belly of the aircraft. Once they were inside, the ramp closed back up, sealing the jet for takeoff.

The interior was plain and just large enough for maybe one more vehicle to pull in behind them. Through the windshield, they could see a closed metal door with a sign reading ‘CABIN’, where they would no doubt be spending most of their time on this trip.

Covey stopped the truck when the wheels fell into a small dip, and metal blocks rose from out of the floor to keep the Hummer in place.

The whole world seemed to pause as if everyone was waiting for Bishop to tell them what to do next.

Well, he said finally, Let’s move into the cabin. It’s going to be a long flight.

Chapter 2

Lieutenant Jason Phelps threw himself to the ground for cover and began to crawl forward as bullets tore through the night sky just inches above him. Bursts of machine gun fire from in front and behind him lit up the darkness like snapshots of daylight.

On the hill in front of him was the complex of flat, one-story buildings with thirty-foot-high, electrified barriers all around. Every hundred feet along the perimeter of the barrier was a guard tower with at least one Roth soldier raining fire down on the Cobalt Unit. This was their mission: to break into this complex, take command, and kill anyone who got in their way.

The brass in Red Horizon had wasted no time in getting Cobalt back into the action after Craig had left to visit the High Children. In what had seemed like a ludicrously short amount of time, a new Major had been assigned as the commanding officer, and they were sent to assist a mission that was already prepped and waiting for men to come and fight.

The target was a Roth facility in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. All they had been told was that it was a research and development compound and that they were to clear it of Roth soldiers without destroying the facility. They were here to shoot people and that was all. Red Horizon’s Neon Unit was running the show, and they didn’t have time to fill everyone in on the details.

For most of the men in Cobalt, it was enough to know that they were killing Roth bad guys, but for Phelps, it was one more strain on his ever-waning patience. They had been hastily dropped in the LZ and immediately started shooting.

Phelps crawled forward into a small ravine where he could catch his breath and reload without being worried about getting hit. Crouching low to keep his head beneath the rim, he quickly slammed a fresh magazine into his T4 automatic rifle.

A second man dropped into the ditch with him: Dalton Grey. The mission hadn’t called for a sniper, but they did need every soldier Red Horizon could spare and Grey was happy to oblige. Dressed head to toe in mottled gray-black utilities to accommodate the night mission, he splashed through the muddy ravine, throwing bits of mud which caked on his black skin. He held his Photo Cannon close as he crouch-walked his way over to Phelps.

This is total bull! Phelps shouted over the noise of war. We’re on the damn front lines, and we don’t even know what the hell is going on here!

Grey fired a burst out of the ravine and crouched back down. I guess someone’s gotta be first, he said. and we kick Neon’s ass any day when it comes to first contact.

You and your damn positive attitude! Phelps yelled back. We got sent out here to get killed!

You gonna let that happen?

Not a chance, Phelps said. I’m surviving this just so I can get back to base and kick someone's ass.

They both came up at the same time and held down the triggers. The Roth returned fire and the two soldiers were forced to duck back down. Bullets tore at the dirt all around them as Phelps and Grey crouched back down and moved further down the ravine.

I can’t even see what the facility looks like over those walls, Phelps said. Whatever they’ve got in there, they really don’t want us to get in to see it.

You’re not looking close enough, Grey said. "See the razor wire on top, how it’s tipped inward? The towers are set up to shoot in all directions, but the focal point is inside."

So?

So, they’re not so much worried about keeping us out as keeping something locked inside.

Well great, Phelps said sarcastically. I can’t wait to see what kind of surprises they’ve got for us in there.

I’ve got a good guess, Grey said. Think about all…

Dammit! Phelps interrupted, Neon’s moving in! They’ve breached the wall! Come on! Those bastards are going to get in there before us!

Phelps scrambled out of the hole, and Grey rolled up behind him. About a hundred yards down, the Neon Unit had blasted a hole large enough to drive several large trucks through. The rocks and concrete tumbled down the crumbling wall and rolled down the hill. They both sprinted toward it.

I thought you didn’t want to be first, Grey shouted from behind him.

Screw that, Phelps said, I’m not letting these guys get the glory for all my hard work.

Grey chuckled and shook his head, but didn’t say anything else.

Teams from the Neon Unit were already moving inward. While sharpshooters took out soldiers from a distance, the ground forces blasted their way forward. Like an army of ants, Red Horizon soldiers ran along the ground toward the breach in the wall and more than twenty Walkers shook the earth with each step they took. Everyone was shooting: balls of fire hotter than the surface of the sun shot out from the Photo Cannons in the hands of the ground troops. Next to them were the Walkers: large, single-pilot, two-legged mechs that shot streams of fifty-caliber bullets so quickly it looked like a laser light show against the night sky.

Phelps and Grey quickly caught up, and dashing in and out from between the rows of mechs, they shot their way toward the front lines. The wall was still crumbling even as they reached it and hopped huge chunks of rock to get inside.

As soon as they stepped over the threshold, they realized how much the situation had changed.

No frickin’ way, Phelps said as he skidded to a stop, eyes as wide as they could go.

With the wall no longer blocking their view of the facility, the details that had been left out of their debrief began to fall into place. There was a complex of buildings just like they had expected, but these had even more protective systems in place than the outer wall. There was more razor wire, electrified fencing and anti-tank guns mounted to the roofs. But what stood out even more were the countless, enormous, twenty-foot tall cages that spanned across acres of the yard just inside the wall. The enclosed paddock must have been more than half a mile in each direction.

The realization hit like a truck.

This was a Chrysaor breeding facility.

An alarm sounded, it’s harsh, punctuated drone actually painful to the ears. Then the paddock gate began to roll back, and Phelps suddenly wished he hadn’t rushed to the front lines.

Waiting just on the other side of the opening gate, eyes wide with madness and hate, mouths gaping and drooling, muscles quivering with the excitement of killing was an army of Chrysaors. Nicknamed 'hogs' for their pig-like appearance, these creatures walked upright and were nine-foot-tall monsters genetically bred by the Roth for the specific purpose of killing the resistance. They were all naked and unarmed - no protective armor like they would wear if they were going into battle - but they were not any less fearsome. These monsters could tear them all apart with nothing but their bare hands, and that’s exactly what they were waiting to do. And there were hundreds of them. At least three hundred, maybe more. The hogs in the back were shaking and pushing those blocking their way as they watched for the gate to open just enough for them to squeeze out.

The formidable, electrified gate finally made a wide enough opening, and the Chrysaors began sprinting forward, roaring and pumping their arms as they aimed for the tiny men on the ground.

Phelps had stopped running forward, but there was no way he would turn and run backward. Feet planted firmly on the concrete, he raised his T4 and aimed for the eyes of the Chrysaor closing in on him.

Come on, Phelps! Grey called already several steps behind him and moving farther away. Get behind the line!

Phelps didn’t even hear him. He pulled the trigger. Bullets hit the hog like hornets putting holes in the skin on its face, but not even chipping the rock-hard bones of the monster. It would be a tough target, but if he could just get one bullet into the hog’s eye, it would continue to travel to the creature’s brain and kill it.

He kept firing and the monster kept running.

Come on! Phelps shouted at the beast. Die already!

As if responding to his command, one bullet hit home and struck the Chrysaor right in the left eye. The monster buckled, fell, and tumbled as momentum carried it forward.

But he didn’t have time to rejoice as two-hundred and ninety-nine more Chrysaors leapt over the carcass of their fallen brother and pushed forward.

Without a blink, Phelps put the next one in his sights and pulled the trigger.

All at once, dozens of rockets flew over his head past him and crashed into the hogs, exploding with lights and gore. When the fifty caliber bullets streamed inches above him, Phelps knew his moment to shine was over. He dropped to the ground in a crouch to keep from getting shot by his own team and began running backward to get behind the line of Walkers that were now overtaking him.

The Walkers and Chrysaors met in the middle of the yard and collided. The hogs in front who hadn’t been taken out yet leaped forward and smashed into the machines.

Still in the middle of the Walkers, Phelps saw one of the Chrysaors land right on top of a mech and bring it permanently to the ground with a crash. The monster balled its fists and beat the cockpit flat, crushing the pilot inside before it was finally shot down by another Walker.

Grey was beside him again with his Photo cannon firing a steady barrage of energy at the beasts as the mechs stomped slowly and continuously forward. By this time, the other ground troops from the Neon Unit were catching up and adding their own fire to the mix.

Man, you are really dumb! Grey shouted at Phelps over the din of battle. Is being at the front for pride’s sake really worth dying for?

They both aimed for the same Chrysaor that was bearing down on them, and between the two of them, managed to bring it to the ground just in time.

It’s not about whether or not it’s worth dying for, Phelps called back, "The war, the battle, the rush: it’s what I live for."

Even with three hundred Chrysaors and a couple units worth of Roth militia, Red Horizon’s Neon and Cobalt Units made quick work of the facility’s defenses. Once the main turrets and towers were out of commission and the hogs weren’t in constant bombardment, things could slow down a little.

Phelps and Grey walked through the yard, completely covered in mud that had been splashed by the massive robots and monsters around them, and held their weapons at their sides. Dead and dying Chrysaors lay on the ground like strewn confetti.

That one’s still breathing, Grey called to Phelps and pointed.

Phelps walked right up to the monster and kicked it in the ribs. The creature made a low growl and blood dribbled from its mouth, but it didn’t get up. Phelps put the barrel of his T4 right against the creature’s temple and pulled the trigger. Three rounds at point-blank range drilled through its skull, and the monster stopped for good.

Lieutenant! A booming voice called to him from somewhere across the yard.

Phelps and Grey turned around to look. A tall, brawny figure in Red Horizon garb was strutting toward them in a power walk.

Ah great, Phelps muttered. It’s Major Sunshine.

Major Sanshien was Gibson Craig’s replacement while he was on assignment with the High Children. He had pitch-black hair and looked like he could possibly have some Asian heritage in him. His voice was deep and full, and he spoke with the cadence of a radio announcer. Phelps tried to conceal his glower as the man approached.

Good work Champ, Sanshien said with a too-wide grin when he finally reached them. You sure know how to show up these Neon punks, dontcha?

Yes sir, Phelps replied, his voice as excited as stagnant water.

"And you, he said pointing to Grey still smiling. Keep him from killin’ himself, cool?"

Grey smiled back. Yes sir, you got it.

Good man, Dalton Grey, Sanshien said. Hey, he said to both of them. I’ve pulled some strings and got you leading a team to sweep out Lab November in the back. No need to thank me.

He slapped Phelps on the back as he turned to head back to whatever it was he was doing before. Keep it up, Tiger.

Phelps didn’t respond, but just watched him swagger off.

Douche bag, Phelps grunted.

C’mon man, Grey said. He’s a good guy. What do you got against him anyway?

He’s just too damn happy all the time, Phelps said. Something’s not right about that.

You’d rather he was pissy and mean all the time?

At least then he’d seem like a real person, Phelps replied. Doesn’t even know my freakin’ name.

Sure he does, Grey said. He just thinks that he’s complimenting you. I think he’s got a crush on you.

Hey, watch it, Phelps snapped.

It could be a lot worse, Grey continued, "At least he likes you. There’s a lotta people in Red Horizon who actually hate you."

I can handle those guys. It’s these smarmy, bootlicking, ass-faced weasels I want to stomp into the ground.

Outside the small, concrete building with an enormous letter N on the outside of it, Phelps looked over his team. He was really glad they hadn’t stuck him with a bunch of idiots from Neon Unit. Instead, it was his old crew just like always. Dalton Grey was there, of course, and next to him were Sergeant Billy Otto and heavy weapons specialist Dan Palmeteer.

So what’s the plan, Phelps? Palmeteer asked, the words crawling out of his mouth with a slow, southern drawl. I thought we was just backup on this one.

Sunshine’s got us sweeping this building, Phelps said. We’re supposed to take prisoners only as long as it’s a convenient option. We’re just making sure it’s clear for our research team to go through and collect souvenirs.

We’re gonna try to make our own hogs? Billy Otto asked.

Phelps shook his head. Hell if I know. I just work here. Let’s move in. Me and Billy Joe are goin’ in first. Grey and Palmeteer, take up the rear.

Ain’t you excited? Otto asked. We’re gettin’ to actually take out a Roth building.

Phelps thinks he’s gettin’ thrown a bone by Sanshien, Grey explained.

Patronizing bastard, Phelps muttered. Let’s get this over with.

They burst in through the main entrance and immediately fanned out, covering the lobby and kicking in the closet doors as they went. But it was empty.

Figures, Phelps thought. He had assumed there would be nothing here. Neon would have taken any of the buildings that would actually have something interesting inside and leave Cobalt to clean up the mess.

They moved down the hallway. The building was old and furnished with all the flavor of an unsalted cracker. The walls were concrete based with drywall over some of them. Clearly,