The Insurgency

It was the sound of marching that had woken Ryan up. He crouched from a lying position and raised his binoculars over his eyes and spotted dozens of Chinese soldiers moving across the withered cornfield. He glanced behind and signaled to the other Insurgents about the incoming troops.
	“Enemy patrol,” An Insurgent warned upon seeing Ryan gesticulate among the stalks of wheat and corn. “Twelve, on foot.” He continued. “Armed with automatic rifles.” The Insurgent added.
	It was a sunny afternoon in the year 2003 when the forces of the newly formed Chinese branch of the Black Poison Society Insurgents began their operation against the government. Their objective is to ‘liberate’ a small province of the country and use it as a staging area for the Society to mount their raids and attacks on government troops and establishments.
	Ryan was among them. He was equipped with a sleeveless tactical vest. A white turban was wrapped around his head which matched perfectly with his fatigued pants and combat boots. The other Insurgents wore the same outfit, each armed with close quarters weapon.
	Their plan is to take down the enemy patrol. Their mission is to destroy a nearby military base that oversees security of the region.
	Ryan saw his fellow rebels, Li and Zhao gestures back at him. It was the only response he needs from them. Soon, they blended in with their surroundings by hiding deeper among the stalks.


The Protectorate Legion was humanity’s first line of defense against Hell and their machinations. They are the bastion of hope for the living and the bulwark of protection of the dead, the Martyrs of Heaven. In every battle that has been fought in the surface of Earth, they were there.
No longer Human, the men and women of the Protectorate Legion served mankind and the Lord. They were armed with their weaponized armor, forged from Heaven’s anvil. The Battle Gears serves as their second skin and exoskeleton. It was impervious to all weapons utilized by Man and even the most darkest magic was useless against it.
Protectorate Gamma was a Tier-4 Sergeant-Commissar who oversees his Inquisitorial Team’s training performance. He watched as the two Tier-2 Shieldbrothers drew their handguns in a split second and took down hologramic projections of their enemies that resembles a humanoid figure with abnormally long arms and fingers.
“Draw!” He yelled. The two complied swiftly and aimed. “Fire!” He yelled, his order was punctuated by two shots from their Ray Pistols. “Return!” His subordinates dropped their weapons to its holsters.
The cycle repeated for about three minutes before a Tier-5 Tribune-Commander entered. He turned to see a long haired man in black and white armor striding towards him.
“Greetings, Commander Jemwolf.” Gamma greeted.
“The Archangel Michael has issued an order for your team to mobilize. You have acquired the temporary designation of ‘Charnel Blades’ for this mission. How do you plea?” Jemwolf says emotionlessly.
“What is the use of ‘plea’, Commander, when all we wanted is to accept.” Gamma replied tersely.
“Good.” Jemwolf nods. “You are to begin deployment in the Shandong Province to halt the attack of an Insurgent Covert Ops Team. The Black Poison Society has deployed a unit in the region for the purpose of dismantling the current government. They may be guerillas and poorly equipped, but with their propagandas, they could arm as many as they wanted. Terminate them all.”
“Yes, Commander.” Gamma replied.
“Good luck.”
“Who is like God.” Gamma concluded as he turned to his team, who were as still as stone. “Meet me in the Cloud.”


Ryan saw a pair of boots in front. The man was unfortunately posted alone in the field; the rest of the patrol had moved on to leave more guards in their assigned position. Ryan waited before springing out of the stalks and pulling the guard behind. With one quick motion, he had his throat slit with a knife. Blood gushed forth like fountain. He pulled a cloth from his pocket and pressed it against the wound before leaving the corpse there.
Far ahead was another guard left by the patrol. Each guards were posted approximately 50 meters apart from one another. The reason for this is unknown. Maybe the higher-ups were far too confident with their own might or maybe the flawed security was somewhat a result of the government’s jumbled bureaucracy.
Either way, Ryan doesn’t care. He only sees corpses, lots of them.
He navigated the stalks with extreme caution to avoid being seen. The stalks rose in height as he advanced further. Soon enough, the guard was so very close but he was still unaware of his would-be assassin’s presence, making him vulnerable.
He grabbed the man by his neck and drove the tip of the knife into his left eye socket. It was so deep that even the frontal lobe of his brain was penetrated as well. He extricated the knife and dropped the corpse.
“Enemy down,” He muttered at the radio attached to his left ear. “Zhao, what’s your status?”

On the other side of the field, Zhao was busy asphyxiating his victim with a thick plastic cord. The guard struggled a bit further before finally becoming motionless.
“Sixth guard eliminated.”
“Good.” Ryan replied. “Li, what about you?”

Li was headless. An armored figure was standing behind him. Protectorate Gamma’s gray and mustard yellow armor deflected the reflection of the Sun. He knelt and picked up the radio. He pinpointed the location of the two other Insurgents before passing it mentally with his subordinates.
“Trident, Hardcut,” Gamma spoke. “Eliminate the targets with silent precision.”

Ryan wondered what delayed his teammate. He pressed the earpiece again for another attempt at inquiry.
“Li, where the f—“ He was cut short with a punch to the jaw. The impact was so strong and hard that fell to the ground with a fallen tooth.
Cursing in Chinese, Ryan spat the tooth and looked up, only to see a figure in black and gray armor, staring down at him. Hardcut picked Ryan off to his feet by his neck. He clenched his left fist and sent it at Ryan’s face, knocking his head backwards. His neck snapped and dislocated by the force of the punch, leaving his head facing behind eternally.
He tossed Ryan’s corpse to the side for the patrol to see.

Zhao heard static in the radio frequency. He removed the earpiece from his ear and stared at it quizzically before finally putting it back on when a sword suddenly impaled him from behind. He could see the silver glowing blade protruded out of his chest as Trident drove the sword. The Enochian runes carved on the blade glowed in blue as blood smears it.
“Target down.” Trident reported.


Commander Xuē jiǎn approached his radio specialist, who was sitting with another Insurgent next to a wooden table while listening intently to the green radio. Beige tents could be seen around them and four other Insurgents surrounding a campfire, boiling a huge pot of beans.
“Any news?” Xuē jiǎn asked.
“We’ve lost contact with Ryan’s team all of a sudden.” Specialist Qui replied. “It was strange.”
“Well, it’s probably the interference from the bastards’ equipment. You never know what the military used these days.” Xuē jiǎn said.
“But sir—“
Behind one of the tents where the campfire was, Corporal Xi walked into view, his mouth was filled with blood. He walked, his eyes had already rolled backwards; an indication of death. He fell to his knees and faceplanted. Behind him was a gray armored man whose face was obscured behind a blood stained faceplate. Two more appeared behind them; black and cyan colored.
Xuē jiǎn and the others whipped their weapons and aimed but the Protectorates were too fast that the Insurgents were dead before they knew it.
The last thing Xuē jiǎn sees before death overcomes him was the grim faceplate of the Protectorate, staring at him with grey lenses. The Protectorate raises a foot and stomped onto his face.