HERO-3

[Thood74]

HERO-3,
formerly SUNDOWN-6,
formerly Andrew Baker,
formerly...

The stream of consciousness for HERO-3. Made on a whim to fill the void between server downtime, and hopefully inspire myself to do better characterising him for Season 2.​

 

[Thood74]

The craft shuddered, again.

​

HERO-3 cradled his bullet-ridden, bandaged thrice over left arm and winced, tears in his eyes as the Dropship, under the supervision of VICE-3 at its console, continued to slowly, painfully carry his PT out of the entire Garrison towards the Citadel, where a no doubt suicidal assignment awaited them not long after. Others were at his side and across from him, playing a game of deathroll to pass the time. Talking about things he didn't have the capacity to pay attention to. How long had it been since they first took off, an hour, hours, a minute? Pain jumbled his thoughts. Punishment for failure.

Failure to hold Geneva. However, it didn't sting nearly as much as the agony that had engulfed the left side of his body. After all, a Garrison-wide pardon from the Administrator himself and a lack of true meaning as to why Geneva mattered so much outside of tenacity for tenacities sake which left him frustrated. No less frustrated when all it amounted to was effectively a decoy. One that would've no doubt been forgotten in an instant if left to die. So much for the Garrison sharing a designator with that of Earth itself.

So why weren't they? And why didn't he leave when DEFENDER-1 gave him the chance.

Constant mission failures, coups, general ineptitude, the Garrison would've marked itself for annhilation were it any other circumstance than the ongoing apocalypse. And even then. The Security Council made it abundantly clear that it was certainly happy to have them all given a death that would've made Robert-Francois' ashes turn the wind it was scattered to colder than ice. No, a higher power had invoked a prerogative of mercy. Something was clearly in mind for Garrison 314, if they could endure the suffering and adapt as necessary to reach it.

As it was, as it will be...

Erm. Garrison 314. 314. Wasn't 314 what Earth had been reassigned?

The pointless distraction left his mind as soon as it was created as another painful jolt of the Dropship brought him out of his self-reflective headspace and into cold reality. He was borderline ready to rip off his mask and cry from the pain spreading like hellfire to swallow him whole at this point, break what was left of his professional fascade and show just how much agony he was in before golden words were spoken.

C18:50.VICE-3 said "<:: We're here. ::>" . VICE pressed one more button and left his no doubt uncomfortable hunched over stance to stand tall at the side of the exit, ready to leave the empty, poorly lit interior of the Dropship.

HERO-3 wordlessly put his right arm around JURY-8's shoulder, standing up alongside him in spite of every nerve in his body telling him to sit down and wail. The pain was soon to be over, so why give up because of it? Why give up at all. The Dropship door swung open, and a white light met his eyes painfully.

 

[Thood74]

A few days ago, an unmoving monolith crossed the Valley right before 314's eyes.

​

It's hard to put into words the sort of shock that follows seeing one of the literal one chances of strategic victory vanish instantaneously. At first it was assumed that it would never return. The idea never even crossed HERO-3's mind, overwhelmed by shock. The euphoric return immediately thereafter accordingly did not feel as much like actual happiness as it did a semi truck running you over at full force. H-3 sat on the balcony connected to the Substation overlooking the Valley for the longest time, awaiting any sign of life or activity from the Citadel as a large cable, now disconnected from the moved Citadel, fell limp.

This wasn't the fault of The Enemy here, nor the Garrison. This was a kind of power beyond them. He couldn't comprehend anything on this scale being a personal failure in this isolated conflict with a small batch of Enemy insurgents who took control of a Bunker before they could. Were that not the case, he probably would've thrown himself over the edge towards the snow below, head first.

His attention was brought back to the Valley instead of the now slightly-less-distant artefact, temporarily braindead structure as a number of Transhumans and, slightly behind, a fellow Officer wandered into the now unsealed Substation. His brain took seconds to process before finally moving apprehensively towards the door which opened without incident. With a final glance towards the Citadel, he entered.

The Substation was as small as it looked from the outside, relative to other Combine structures. He sat on the top of a small series of ramps leading towards an Elevator within which the Officer peered also. Peering down, the interior was dark still. It give him a familiar shudder for reasons he refused to acknowledge. Wandering further down, things became clear and a red light from a monitor once beneath his solid platform came into view, also illuminating the Transhumans who sat before it.

In the corner of the room, now lit up by the slowly brightening screen, a husk came into view. An inert machine of death he'd seen once before, accompanying a Blackwatch traitor, now in snow camouflage. The connection made him a little afraid but reassured by the newfound control the local forces now clearly had over it. He had by now wordlessly joined the Officers side.

He began to open his mouth to inquire with the equally inert Transhumans staring before the monitor, navigating menus he could not properly read from this distance, before the red exploded in brightness, covering him and his entire half of the room in red. The Transhumans stood to attention as something made itself clear on the screen. Forcing himself to squint through the overwhelming red, he saw...

...​

" <:: ...We should leave. ::> " The other Officer spoke in a hushed tone, even if it was clear the Transhumans knew their presence based on the footsteps they had made walking upon the metal platforms to get here. H-3 only managed a few murmured agreements as his body automatically moved away from the things he wasn't supposed to see and upwards, towards the door. He did not hear an exchange below, not even from the Transhumans or a familiar speech processor. The door thankfully yet dangerously was still open, allowing an easy escape from the claustrophobic cube of secrets.

And dangerous it was to leave that door open. As the now identified VICE-4 and H-3 had exchanged words upon the meaning of what they had just seen and the nature of the Citadels...The Balcony began to ring the sounds of footsteps.

" <:: Uh oh. ::> " Uttered V-4 as a horde of inquisitive Civil Protection Officers slowly ascended the Bridge towards the Substation, with a Rank Leader undoubtedly in the front. H-3 and V-4 stood before the group, a very weak line of defence against the approaching horde as C93:RL.DEFENDER-1 stood before the two, the head of the group.

" <:: Move. ::> " The rank-leading dissident spoke callously, assuming they had any want to stand before a very considerable number of the entire Garrison and as if them moving before her beck and call was a given.

The grip on her gun became white knuckled as she was refuted. Yet the two officers could not help but move back slightly as the horde willed to move up slightly, allowing D-1 onto the Balcony proper. The door was closer. V-4 was now slightly behind H-3, standing with his MP5K in hand exchanging a back and forth with the nominal superior.

Orders became threats. " <:: Last warning. ::> " The DEFENDER was going to do something, though what exactly was unclear. Upon a possibly final, defiant refutation, the HUD flashed in the top left as his Rank Points fell to a 00. HERO-3 casually dropped his MP5K over the side to the snow below and broke against a rock, discarding his once standard issue weapon. He stood before the horde now practically unarmed with but a knife, a stun baton, and an unmentioned satchel of fragmentation grenades.

Being unarmed did not stop HERO-3 from remaining practically unmoving as the slightest amount of ground was claimed on the already tiny enough Balcony. He would not move for anyone but Overwatch...Until DEFENDER-1, driven past the point of reason by continued defiance and the reasonable withholding of dangerous information, raised her assault rifle. V-4 quietly motioned for H-3 to fall back from the now dangerous woman.

One voice urged him to violently throw his explosive satchel at the dissident, primed. End his own life, annihilate the Rank Leader, damage the Substation and Bridge, undoubtedly amuse and confuse the quiet Enemy overlooking them and destroy a not small portion of Garrison 314 who had possibly unwillingly followed D-1 up here in hopes of answers.

Another, to quietly leave and leave it to the Overwatch Detachment. More than likely accept his demotion and possibly detainment too, considering Overwatch Command inaction. Keep his life intact and spare the Garrison further internal strife with yet another act of internal violence. Another muddying of the lines between his side and the Insurgency.

A few days later, H-3 sat on his bunk as the rest of the still armed Garrison sieged the Enemy Bunker.
​

As much as he had wanted to pretend otherwise, the demotion had demoralised. He remained inert and had his radio turnt off. Setback after setback in spite of devoted service had finally taken its toll and reaffirmed his hatred for the human leadership he was directly considered to be subservient towards. It weighed heavily and frequently on his mind now.

He couldn't wait to be rid of them, but paradoxically, he would never be enough of a slave to their whims to reach that necessary point. They would need to be done away with for him to move forward. Permanently too, not replaced with an equally belligerent, defiant to authority, self-centred despot. That was out of his power.

He wouldn't give up yet, but he'd have to overcome the hurdle soon before he was beyond the point of continued progress.