"One does not simply waltz into our territory without encountering a few…hungry…surprises. Ahahahaha!"
-Lady Kindle of the Bolt Guard, a few hours before the first sightings of Oozium-238.
-R-M-R-M-R-M-R-M-
"What exactly happened?!" Cougar snarled, stalking his way down the maroon corridors of the Red Mesan forward HQ, his browny-grey windswept hair dangling down around his face. He turned to the techie that he had just snapped at, his eyes wild with barely-restrained fury. From what the Red Mesan CO had heard, the Allied Nation forces had unexpectedly opened fire, and Shade was being rushed to intensive care. The fact that the supposedly good and virtuous Allied Nations had attacked without provocation had riled him up enough; and now that he knew that a commander he respected and valued as a friend had been critically injured as a result, he was near enough boiling with anger.
"W-Well Commander," the techie stammered, running a hand through unkempt blonde hair and looking fearfully at Cougar with wide blue eyes, "Th-They opened f-fire, and-"
"God dammit, I KNOW THAT!" Cougar shouted, his roaring voice sending various passers-by scattering. "What injured Matthew so badly is what I need ta know right now!"
There was a pause as the two continued moving down the corridor, the techie having to walk briskly to keep up with Cougar's long strides.
"…It was a m-meditation-induced cerebral shock, Commander. Commander Shade was caught by surprise, and h-had no time to r-recall his electromagnetic projection." He shook his head. "It was…it was horrible to watch. He was wrapped in electricity, screaming…and then he just collapsed. I had no idea his powers could do that." The techie looked back at his superior, his head inclining to look at him due to the fact that Cougar was at least a foot taller than him. "…Sir?"
As soon as Cougar had heard the words 'meditation-induced cerebral shock', he had gasped and closed his eyes, a pained look on his tanned features. He shook his head slowly, opening his eyes and looking at the floor. "Dammit Awner…you lied to us…" He whispered to himself. Sighing, he looked back at the techie. Hopefully, he hadn't heard the whisper; some things were best left secret. "Neither did I," he replied. "Shade always kept us in the dark about his abilities…either he didn't know 'em fully, or he was hiding something from us…we'll get the truth outta him eventually, if he recovers. Right now," he said, arriving at two large mahogany doors that led to the Command Room, "I have a job to do."
"Let me hazard a guess, Sir…" the techie said. "Kicking ass?"
Cougar's stony face cracked into a fierce, slightly disturbing grin as he pushed open the doors and walked inside.
"Damn straight."
SLAM!
-B-C-B-C-B-C-B-C-
It was early morning in the Orange Star capital city, the greyish-blue pre-dawn light filled the sky, casting an eerie ghostlike glow over its many buildings, offices and suburbs. The streetlights were still on, their vibrant orange glow diminishing in the face of the coming sunrise, and a low mist permeated the city with its silent, soothing presence. The city was quiet and dim, with only the hushed whisper of early traffic and a few yellow squares of light in windows betraying its inhabitant's existence to the world.
One area of the city that was not so quiet was the southern industrial district, a large, sprawling expanse of grey concrete and glinting steel that hugged the Odran River, a wide, deep ribbon of water that snaked its way through the city on its lazy flow to the sea. The industrial district was never truly quiet, even in the post-midnight hours that muffled the rest of the city in a blanket of deathly silence. The various factories and other assorted buildings ran constantly, caring little for the day-night blur of the world outside the corrugated steel and red brick walls that entombed their noisy production lines.
One warehouse, a single red-brick shell inside a forest of identical counterparts, was different from the rest; its lights were not switched on, the small rectangular panes of the windows as black as obsidian. It was surrounded by its brother and sister buildings, smack dab in the middle of the group that nested in the crook of a meander carved into the landscape by the molasses-esque erosion of the river. It looked oddly out of place, even with its many identical siblings; a drop of darkness in an ocean of light, the metaphorical black sheep. It was run-down and dirty, obvious signs of long-term abandonment and on the whole looked as if it hadn't been touched for half a decade.
But a closer look revealed small signs of life; there were several tracks of footprints leading up to and away from the double doors that serve as an entrance, and upon closer inspection, a low, amber light permeated through the structure, an indication that at least some lights inside the structure were switched on.
A look on the inside of the building told the same story. The thick layer of dust, discarded documents and random equipment scattered around like toys in a toddler's playroom screamed 'deserted'; but the areas where dust had been recently swept away to reveal the cold grey concrete underneath, the slowly strengthening light, and neatly stacked items free of the layer of dust that cakes most other objects told the truth. Only after a good long look would anyone suspect that this cold, sorry brick shell of a building was anything other than uninhabited.
Hawke liked it that way. It meant that nobody would come snooping round and discover that not only was the warehouse being occupied, but that it was currently the temporary residence of four high-ranking Black Hole CO's, with two of them wanted for war crimes, one disappearing with a very flimsy explanation, and the other thought to be dead.
Yes, the less conspicuous the better.
'I do not want to have to do this any longer than necessary though,' Hawke thought, a dark black mug filled with dark black coffee in his gloved hand as he sat back in the old leather chair of what used to be the head office in the warehouse. He took a long, brooding sip of the hot liquid, reading from today's newspaper in his other hand, sighing deeply after he placed the mug on the desk in front of him. 'This is hardly my favourite kind of situation to be in. The sooner we get this all sorted out, the better…'
"Penny for your thoughts?"
The light, youthful voice broke into, and subsequently derailed, Hawke's train of thought. The stoic Black Hole commander placed the newspaper on the desk next to his mug, and swivelled in his chair to look at the source of the voice, a shadow hanging in the corner of the office, a pale-lipped, genial smile on a face mostly in darkness save for the glint of a pair of glasses. Hawke narrowed his eyes as he looked at the newcomer.
"You're early. You're also a telepath, which means that such phrases as 'penny for your thoughts' are really quite redundant," he droned. "You could just read my mind if you so wished."
The figure waggled a finger and shook his head. "Not on the first date, Hawkester," he chuckled. "And besides, I do have some ethics, and asking for permission before mind reading is a pretty important part of those ethics. I'm a watcher, not a peeping tom." He folded his arms and leant back against the wall behind him, disappearing even more into the shadows. "All jocularity and Bones McCoy references aside…did you brief those three psychopaths downstairs yet?"
Hawke nodded, turning to the desk to extricate a few stapled-together sheets of paper before turning back to the figure, handing them to him before leaning back again, his tanned face expressionless. "I covered the issues you suggested in a briefing ten minutes ago. I didn't nearly die in Von Bolt's collapsing fortress so I could sit back and procrastinate."
The figure skim read the sheets of paper, raising a shadowed eyebrow several times as he read certain lines. He nodded to himself, and tossed the sheets onto the desk, before looking at Hawke again.
"Collapsing fortresses duly noted," he said. "And you even forced Adder to take minutes of that briefing. I'm impressed. Then again, with Adder…a few threats of violence goes a long, long way."
Hawke nodded, picking up his mug and taking another long sip of coffee before putting the mud down again to speak. "Indeed. Regardless…you came here for a purpose, one which is not readily obvious to me. Explain."
"Not quite yet," the figure said lightly, raising a hand. "An explanation will come in due time, but right now I'm intrigued by a certain item on those minutes, a certain item about a certain…Red Mesa."
"Yes, I decided they should know about that," Hawke said, nodding. "The information you gave me on this desert nation has taken on a new significance." He picked up the newspaper from the desk, and showed the front page to the figure. "Look."
The shadow in the corner was silent for a few seconds. Then a long, depressed sigh hissed out from him, and he reached out, taking the newspaper from Hawke's hands and looking at it more closely.
'ALLIED NATIONS LAUNCH ATTACK ON MYSTERIOUS NEW HOSTILES'
'In a characteristic display of resolve and strength just hours earlier today, the Allied Nations launched a blistering attack on a recently-discovered Black Hole base in the southwest of Omega Land. This Black Hole base is a leftover from the recent war in the far-flung continent, and has only remained hidden so long from our army's rigorous reconnaissance because of a mysterious new cloaking technology that rendered them nearly undetectable to any sort of scanning. In a further example of just how far our men are willing to go to achieve peace on Wars World, the artillerymen that opened the assault fired BLIND - blanketing the enemy's front lines until the cloak failed just seconds after the shells hit.
From what scant reports we have been able to obtain, these Black Hole remnants seem to be a splinter faction - reports from the field suggest that they are coloured a deep blood red, instead of the dark grey usually associated with Black Hole. The units appear radically different too - more like our own than the alien technology usually employed by the tyrannical invaders. Worries that Allied Nations units may have mistakenly opened fire on another country have been quashed by Commander Olaf of Blue Moon, who stated that "the first time Black Hole invaded, under Sturm, they masqueraded as Orange Star by imitating their units and using a clone of Andy. Who is to say that they haven't done the same here?"
Story Continues on Page 3'
The figure's hands clenched, crumpling the edges of the newspaper, before he growled and flung it across the room. He took several deep breaths before speaking.
"Idiots…" he muttered, a hand to his forehead. "Absolute idiots. Firing blind to hit supposed enemies…somebody in the Allied Nations command over there has a bloody screw loose! And as for Olaf…that pompous ball of lard is sitting comfortably in his chair in the Blue Palace while soldiers in his country take part in the killing of innocents." He seethed, two rings of icy glowing blue appearing in place of his eyes. "I should've seen this happening…I can see across the planet! I can see into the future! And yet, this totally obvious consequence of the Allies' misinformation and recklessness simply slipped past me!"
Hawke shook his head. "The assault happened overnight in this time zone. Although you have certain…talents, you are still human, and so have to sleep sometime." He fixed his dark, emotionless grey eyes on the fierce glowing blue optics of his visitor. "Even eyes as far-reaching as yours have to rest eventually."
The figure took a breath, raising a finger as the blue glow in his eyes slowly faded into nothingness. "Actually…" he began hesitantly. Hawke raised an eyebrow in genuine surprise, something that didn't happen very often.
"Don't tell me…" Hawke droned, shaking his silver-haired head. "You don't need to sleep?"
"I do need sleep," came the reply. "It's just that I've trained myself to need less of it. Kinda like Batman. Speaking of Batman…" he continued, hidden eyes glazing over as his explanation metamorphosed into a ramble, "I need to check Ebay…that replica batbelt auction's gonna finish soon." Snapping back to reality, he looked back at the dangerously narrowed eyes of Hawke. "Oh, yeah…explanation as to why I am here. Hehe…" He simpered. "Sorry, got sidetracked."
"Indeed…" Came the monotonous reply. "Now, if you would be so kind…"
The figure's shadowed head nodded, and there was a rustling of paper as he produced a few official-looking papers, and handed them to Hawke, a triumphant grin barely visible on his dim face, a satisfied sigh emanating from him.
"It's been ratified. The Black Cadre - Flak, Adder, Lash, and of course you, even though you're not featured in the paperwork due to the obvious condition of being declared missing in action - will assume command of Black Hole's territory here in Macro Land in two week's time. This agreement is only valid if the following stipulations are upheld and obeyed - stipulations," he said, wagging his finger yet again, "That you have already seen and personally given your approval…under the guise of Lash, of course. She will be the 'official' leader of Black Hole, while in reality she will be something akin to a 'puppet' leader. You will be in control of the country from beyond the grave, so to speak."
Hawke nodded, his eyes flicking back and forth as he scanned the pages in his hands, musing under his breath. "They were fair stipulations," he said. "Providing assistance to the Allied Nations when requested, Adder and Flak required to help in reconstruction efforts repairing the damage they caused rampaging around Macro Land during the Omega Land War…yes, fair enough." He paused, and looked up at the figure. "There must have been some pretty tough opposition to this bill. How did you get it ratified?"
A happy, almost manic grin flashed across the shadowed person's face. "Hawke, I can get anything ratified," he said meaningfully. "Anything. Normally it goes against my morals to do such a thing, but when it's for the greater good…I can do a little prodding. The right touch, the right suggestion, the right word at the right time can have wonderful effects." The grin disappeared, replaced with a barely visible smirk, and Hawke nodded. The stoic commander knew how powerful manipulation could be, and coupled with talents like those employed by the person standing before him…it was slightly unnerving to know that he wielded such influence.
"Nevertheless," Hawke said, derailing his train of thought, "Adder and Flak should be being tried for war crimes. Now they're doing the military equivalent of community service. Even you couldn't have been able to change such a punishment with just words."
A chuckle came from the shadow, tinged with a happy, light tone that echoed around the room. The shadow shifted, standing up straight from his leaning position, and walked into the light. As his features became more visible, more distinct, Hawke raised an eyebrow yet again. He had only fully seen the person before him a few scant times, and he didn't show his face without good reason. Hawke's eyes drifted, noting down his appearance in case it became useful later.
He was a pale-skinned young adult, no older then nineteen, of medium height and a slim build. Icy blue eyes that glinted in the light with a childlike light resided behind half-rimmed silver glasses, a few bangs of his jet black hair lazily hanging down in front of his face, the rest barely brushing his shoulders. He was awash with blue; dark blue jeans melded with a navy t-shirt, framed by his black trainers and smiling face, wrapped in a blue cotton jacket, is hands in its pockets. There was an eerie calm about him, as if he was never worried, never troubled, and there was an unsettling confidence in his movement and posture that betrayed his seer-like abilities.
Those glacial eyes bored into Hawke's, and the blue-swathed teen kept staring as he spoke.
"When push comes to shove, Hawke…I can be very, very persuasive. Now," he said brightly, smiling and turning away from Hawke, "If you'll excuse me, I have a needless war to watch." He paused, and half-turned back towards Hawke, the bright smile still on his face.
"Just remember…if you ever need an extra pair of eyes, call your friendly neighbourhood Watcher. You know my number." He turned back to face the corner again as Hawke watched him, thinking to himself.
'Here comes his disappearing act-'
Flash!
A bright flash of blue light assaulted Hawke's eyes, and he turned his head to avoid being dazzled, shielding his eyes with his arm. When he turned back, the 'Watcher' was gone, with only the papers he had handed to Hawke, and the angrily-thrown newspaper splayed on the floor, giving any sign that he had been there. Hawke nodded to himself and leant back in his chair, his eyes glazing over as his mind began to work.
"I'll be seeing you, Watcher."
-A-N-A-N-A-N-A-N-
The Allied Nation's temporary HQ was in pandemonium, a sharp contrast to the victorious cries that had shook the haphazardly-placed tents no more than five minutes ago. Their brilliantly planned, perfectly-executed blitz of their invisible enemy had turned into a desperate, scrappy mess of a battle against an army unlike anything they had ever come up against before. After the initial artillery pounding had somehow forced what they thought was Black Hole units to decloak, the command staff were astounded to see an alien, sleek, blood-red army surge towards their forces with a ferocity unmatched by even Grimm's divisions.
The main command tent was a mess. The COs of the four countries in charge of Omega Land operations - Rachel, Sasha and Colin, Sonja and Grimm, Jess and Javier - along with Jake, the person actually leading the battle, were staring at the various battlefield monitors, confusion written on their faces. Jake was leaning on a desk, hands planted on its smooth wooden service, shaking his head as he watched live in-field battle broadcasts of their enraged enemies.
"Dudes, this makes no sense!" he said, lifting a hand up to scratch his head. "These guys…I mean…are they Black Hole? Did we just try to smackdown another bunch of guys? Because that's beyond weak."
Sonja strode up next to him, shaking her head as well, brow furrowed in a frown. "Everything pointed to Black Hole…the signals we got were a hair's breadth away from those we gleaned from prototypes retrieved from Sturm's citadel in the Macro Land War…yet this army is different to anything else." She turned back to the other COs, and started pacing back and forth, the cogs in her brilliant mind whirring. "One, they're red. That either makes them a splinter faction, or a different country that felt the need to conceal itself. Two, their unit designs are quite unique. From what I've seen, they're built for this desert climate, as we've seen no instances of mechanical failure due to sand among their units. Three, they're under the command of someone we've never fought against before." As she continued to pace back and forth in the dimly lit tent, oblivious to the carnage on the many monitors around her, Rachel opened her mouth to speak.
"This area might be under the command of a subordinate of one of the Bolt Guard. Y'know, sent here to make sure this area remains under their control, and doesn't know what to do now that the main army's been defeated."
Sonja stopped pacing, looking at Rachel and shaking her head. "I don't mean like that," she said. "Whoever's in command isn't employing the standard anti-Allies tactics we've seen before; they're just not acting like a Black Hole force should. Secondly, the enemy forces under the command of a CO." After hearing this, the COs looked at each other confusedly, until Colin piped up.
"E-Excuse me, Commander Sonja," he squeaked, "But…how do you know this?" Sonja turned to a bank of monitors close to the entrance to the tent, beckoning everyone to crowd around.
"Watch," she said, keying a few instructions into a small keypad next to the monitor bank. Several videos flashed up onto the screen, showing Allied units under attack by their mystery enemies. She froze each video at certain points, and pointed a slender finger at each screen in turn. "Roughly every seven out of ten shots, an enemy unit directly hits a weak spot on one of our units, causing considerable damage. That's too high to be a result of luck alone. Also," she continued, going through the same process with videos of Allied units under indirect fire, "More often than not, enemy indirect fire hits the strongest points on our units, causing less damage than normal. The ratio of this? Seven out of ten. That's what makes me believe that we're facing an entirely unknown CO, one with unique powers."
"I see…" Rachel said, turning back to Jake, who had not come over to the monitor bank because he was busy issuing out orders to the Allied force. "Jake."
"Yo?"
"Open an audiovisual communications channel with our mystery opponents. See what we're dealing with." Jake nodded, never taking his eyes off the screens as he typed in the orders into the communications computer. The main screen, suspended from the roof of the tent above the desk that Jake was working at, flickered into life, showing a placeholder image of the Allied Nations logo as it sent out a hailing signal. After a few seconds, the screen flashed up confirmation of a reply, and changed to show a circular, dark red room, filled with computers banks along its walls, with a command chair on a raised pedestal in the centre. Technical staff in white coats with red trim were sat at the computers, a few milling about or making announcements over a tannoy system. But that was not what the Allied COs were paying attention to. Sat in the centre of the room, on the command chair, was a man.
This man was extremely well-built, at least seven feet tall, with wild browny-grey hair hanging down past his shoulders. He was clad in a worn, dark brown trenchcoat, with a dark red t-shirt and faded grey jeans peeking out from under the maroon clothing. Stone grey eyes glared at them with muted hatred.
"Well well well…" he growled, rising up out of his chair as the room he was in fell silent. "Look who finally tried ta communicate instead of rushing in all guns blazing. How's the whole 'killin' innocents' thing workin' out for ya?"
"What in the world…" Rachel breathed, moving across the room to stand next to Jake. "Who are you?"
The man smirked. "You can call me Cougar, direct-combat specialist of the Red Mesan Army. I'm in command of the guys currently kickin' your sorry butts." He flashed an animalistic grin. "For the record, it's extremely enjoyable, considering that you kicked this all off and gave us a reason to fight back."
"B-But…" Rachel stammered, as the rest of the COs stared at Cougar, some curious, some angry. "We…we thought-"
"You thought we were Black Hole," Cougar snarled, cutting across her and rendering her silent. "So you blitzed us with an artillery strike without even trying to talk. That's pissed us off. But ya know what the worst part is?" he asked, walking up to the screen, his figure filling most of the view, his voice rising in volume and anger. "That very same artillery strike nearly killed Commander Shade, our leader. He's in hospital right now in a coma, his brain signals are flatlining, and our soldiers are gettin' killed out there for no other reason than your PIG-HEADED STUPIDITY!"
The Allied COs were silent, the implications of what they had done finally hitting them. After taking several deep breaths to calm himself, Cougar spoke again, in a low, dangerous voice that confirmed their fears.
"Your mistake has cost lives needlessly, and will continue to cost lives. We sure as hell didn't ask for this war…but we're sure as hell gonna end it. Close channel." Cougar turned his back on the Allied COs as the screen winked out, and they all looked at each other, shocked. After a few seconds, Jess said what they were all thinking.
"…What have we done…"
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