A Pair of Wolves

There is a sound like crashing thunder--the impact of an orbital pod slamming against the ground at hypersonic speeds. The air crackles with the stench of plasma barriers against kinetic friction before the seals unlock and the cockpit opens.

Thumb and forefinger draw back the rifle bolt, the DRAGOON Autorifle clicking with a sound like satisfaction. He likes to think there was something to his weapon--an unwavering presence that remained with him through thick and thin.

A constant remained with him even now in the hell that men called war.

He hears the sound is the crack of high-velocity slugs and the contraction of high-energy plasma through the air. The armor on his shoulders is a familiar weight--a comforting bulk as he descends from the metal ramp into the chaos of the fray.

Boots against the ground, knee-deep in the chaos. His vision is clouded with dust and smoke that disappears into the stream of information that fills his visor--a steady trickle of sensory data that illuminates his position within the battlefield.

There is a target within his range, 400 meters behind a concrete barrier. His autorifle shifts and his fingers pulls back. The cyberbeast’s head explodes in a spray of bioengineered flesh and shrapnel.

Death in the blink of an eye and a pull of a trigger.

There is a blur of motion in the corner of his eyes--a blip that registers green in the world of data that illuminates his eyes. A stream of blue-white plasma explodes through the air, cascading like atmospheric fire through the scattering cyberforms.

His eyes flicker to his companion, who limbers forward with a grace that belies the bulk of his form. A plasma cannon swivels at the back of armored shoulder, swiveling with the thoughts that issues from their owner.

He is like himself, creatures clad in environmentally-sealed steel, and painted in gunmetal grey and gold.

His golden visor rises to meet his own, giving a curt nod that he responds with his own. They understand each other more than mere words would allow. With a two fingered gesture towards the direction of their objective point, they advance.

They move through the urban landscape with a practiced pace, through shattered buildings and the streets of debris. With a thought, the thruster jets on his back ignite--sending him over the burning wreckage of an armored vehicle in a burst of speed--before the other follows with his own.

They are like wolves, he thinks. A pair of wolves moving across a forest filled with prey--starving and frothing at the ends of their chains. The chains they called discipline that holds back the hunger that bites at their minds, that kept them sane.

His rifle barks again, scattering across the corner of a wall. The cyberform stands alerted at his presence and raises his head into the air in a sonic howl that rips through the air--bristling against the layers of energy that surrounds his form.

His sensors are disoriented, scrambled by the electromagnetic emissions. The greater cyberform dances forward, machine-like precision guided by bestial instinct to seize him like a prey--moments before a stream of plasma bites into their head, gouging their flesh and burning out neuro-wirings.

But their shot is wide--he missed the central processing unit they were supposed to strike.

The machine beast staggers but does not fall. Crimson optics glimmer  through the clouds of dust and smoke moments before a second sonic shriek slams into his partner, staggering him back.

But even as they do so, he is already moving, hurtling forward with the momentum of the thrusters at his feet. He fires the autorifle with a single hand even as the other moves towards the waist. He drops into a roll behind a barrier--moments before a sonic blast scatters across his visor--before hurling a the large yellow cylinder towards the beast.

The cylinder activates moments after it leaves their hand, splitting and expanding into a dozen segments that rocket towards their target, slamming into his body and detonating against his form.

Wind and light fills his vision, blasting the smoke clear of their surroundings for one brief instant. There is the howling of machinery and the grinding of a scream before the target disappears from his vision and the world returns to normal.

In the corner of his visor, his companion rises from the ground and retrieves his rifle. He turns towards the direction of their objective and moves without another word.

Behind the visor of his own helmet, he barely suppresses a guffaw.

He spares a glance towards the machine-thing on the ground, at the abomination on the ground. The cyberform had once been another human being--or so he had been told. But the plague had changed it, warped them with twisted technology into an abberation of everything it was not.

Would he one day become like them? Raging, frothing beasts without the conditioning and discipline that restrains their own minds?

It is an idle thought and one he entertains for the briefest of instants. Then he turns towards the direction where his companion was waiting and discards the thought from his mind.

Lucas Hunter watches him from the distance, waiting for his arrival. He stands atop a broken vehicle, scanning their surroundings for any approaching targets. In the place where he stands, a sliver of sunlight reaches from above the dark clouds that covers the world, scattering across the polarized visor of his helm.

If he were to become a beast, his companion would hunt him down. Of the six that made up their pack, they were the most human of them all. Of the two that remained of their pack, only they dreamed of returning to the way they once were.

Though he had long since given up hope, his companion never did.

The thought drives him forward onto the fray.