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"The Disconnect's whiplash left us all scarred. The Malefactors care not for whom they left behind, yet we are not alone in this tragedy. We must all Reclaim what was lost, and carve a path for all Transhumans."
Accord Speaker <:: DAMOCLES ::>
STAGE 2:
Use what you are now. Carve a path for yourself and your brethren. Reclaim your future.
I find myself on a cliff. Just at the edge of the Ocean.
It's dirty, tainted, sodomized by the Combine... Malefactors.
It's lost its beautiful blue tone I see in pictures and old videos.
They're a rarity to come by, these days. Fortunately, the Accord have a few expert 'Scribes' in the fold.
None are as augmented as the majority of us.
One named... Pushkin, I think. His arms are only partially transformed.
The rest of his body is augmented. Incomplete, however. He cannot speak. Just listen.
The Accord shelters people such as Pushkin. Those who aren't fully transhumanised like I.
Victims of the process where they are unable to fully utilise the gifts bestowed upon us by the Malefactors.
A tragic fate, yet the Accord guides them. Guides us all.
I'm on a mission with the Marked One.
I've still yet to get his name. He avoids my question, states I'm not quite there yet to know.
Observing him and how others treat him, he's of importance within the Accord.
And yet he busies himself with a rank-and-file like me...
Irrelevant, currently.
We've been tasked to search an old ruin of 'ours'. A crumbling FOB.
The place must be at least a decade old. Abandoned for longer, I'd wager.
Intelligence from our Scribes and a few of the Brothers hint that it used to be a conversion facility for both Soldiers and Menials.
We were told to...
"Reclaim what we have lost. To help us carve a future for all Transhumans."
Ominous, I thought.
But with each passing day I learn more about the Accord. About Convergence.
We were all linked to the same rotten core, indentured to the Malefactors.
Now? We're all still linked. Not to a single, uncaring entity, but to each other. To our beliefs. Our Individuality.
We approached the structure. Wary. It was remarkably small for what I imagined would be a far larger facility. Marked One knew what I was thinking.
"<:: It goes deeper. ::>"
Is all he said.
I nodded. Would we find what we were looking for in there? Would we make it out alive?
We will. I know it.
There's a surprisingly normal door with a bio-lock affixed to its handle. I try my signature and it opens. I look back at my Brother and he nods to me. I'm taking point.
It's dark. There's still power to the basic lighting and electronics it seems.
The 'airlock' is hard to see in, even with the light.
We're kicking up all sorts of residual dust and debris from any form of movement. I turn on my torch, secured to the side of my Pulse Carbine with multiple layers of tape. The integrated light was dead.
My Brother's torch shone from behind me. It's like we're delving into some sort of mythical lake.
The only noise I'm detecting is the low hum of old lights and distant machines, probably. I open the door at the end. Its handle looks ready to fall off when I twist it.
It does.
Yet the door opens anyway with a deafening squeak when compared to the only other noises present.
A staircase. A cramped one. I lean over the railing and point my gun down the shaft. I can't see the bottom.
I look to my Brother with a sigh.
It's going to be a long walk down.
"<:: We will weather it. Our goal lies beneath. ::>"
His certainty gives me confidence.
Despite my hopes, the facility was ransacked. Likely whenever the detachment here abandoned the place.
It struck me as odd.
Such a large facility. So much effort was placed into its construction. It's a Conversion Centre.
Why would they leave?
We went room by room.
Cupboards, Armouries, Barracks, Warehouses, Vehicle Bays.
All. Empty.
Yet as we approached a room that was used to store the Menials. Servitors, a disgusting name, I felt an overwhelming feeling of dread.
It might be the first time I'm experiencing such emotion. My heartbeat quickens. There's something terrible beyond this door I fear.
I reach out to the bio-lock. It turns green. The room's accessible.
The floor was stained a dark red.
Even the particles in the air were stained by the gore.
Before us laid a small room, no bigger than an office, that had bodies and skeletons piled on top of each other.
Shock. Confusion. Revulsion.
Inspecting the bodies closer, most were skeletons. Some bones were already rotting. Others, I could tell were Transhuman.
Irregular bones. Metal plates and other synthetic mechanisms populate the pile. Some synthetic flesh still sticks to the bones of a couple.
I turn to the Marked One.
What the hell is this? What happened here?
"<:: I'm not sure, Brother. It looks like a demon has run through our colleagues. The lack of bodies everywhere but here unsettles me... We must pick up the pace. ::>"
I nod again, eager to leave the room behind.
Then there was a noise. In the depths of the dimly-lit hallways. In the darkness.
Something's here...
We ready our weapons. Our torches only granting us a meagre extra metres of sight into the dark.
Another noise. A bang as if a pot fell over.
We held our ground. Not daring to move forward just yet. Then the darkness shifted...
A tiny red light appears.
My first thought was an alarm light, but it got larger.
Dull thumping reverberated down the hallway. Growls are getting louder.
It slows right as it reaches our torches light.
An Elite. A Phase-Three. Still here?
The Marked One fires just once at the Transhuman ahead. I whip my head towards him, he quickly utters.
"<:: Look. ::>"
I do so. I really look.
I mistook it for a normal Transhuman yet... there's nothing normal about it.
It's limbs are elongated. The monolithic white armour is drenched red. Blood, drool, or both ooze from under the Elite's mask.
"<:: A feral Phase-Three. Malefactors be damned... We must kill him. ::>"
Almost as if it heard and understood him, the 'Feral' let out a harrowing, ghoulish wail as it bounded over towards our position.
In one pace, it would be on all fours like a dog. Another, it's an athletes sprint. It looks like it's perpetually ready to fall over flat onto its face, yet it persists.
Marked One fires again, I now join in. Our pulse rounds slamming right into its armour and limbs.
The creature seems to ignore our combined fire. Its vastly superior augments and structure, joined with its unholy desire to rip us apart, keeps the beast running. A pellet from my Carbine meets its head. A chunk is blown out. It falters for a moment before now directing its attack solely on me.
Click.
Click.
We both need to reload. In my service, something like this would've never happened. In our panic, we were uncoordinated and now the thing is given valuable seconds to close the distance.
I press the button on the front of the handle to reload. My gun's mechanism's moving to insert another magazine. Yet it's not fast enough.
The thing is upon me. It leaped at me, and I was sent crashing to the floor. I can hear Marked One yell out something but everything is drowned out from this creature's noises. Gnashing at me from behind its helmet, it punches me with inhuman force. I'd be out cold or dead were I not a soldier like it. I raise my right arm up to help block its strikes as my left desperately reaches for my boot knife.
Gragh! Fuuck! Help me out! Get this fucking thing off me, NOW!
I scream out, hoping my Brother can hear me from underneath the ghoul.
My hand finds purchase, I rip the knife out of its sheath before a heavy boot is delivered to the things head, and I'm freed.
It's on its back as I lunge on top of it. It throws an arm out and grasps at my helmet, with a pained groan I manage to command its arm and drive my knife into its palm with as much strength as I can. The knife penetrates the ceramic floor, cracking it. It's not dug deep by any means but the creature is pinned.
Marked One stomps his boot onto its other hand, pinning it for certain now as he unloads a whole magazine of pulse ammunition right into the abominations skull from just a few feet away.
…
We abandoned our expedition into the site following that.
Trudging back the way we came, our senses on high alert following that attack.
I made it out unharmed. Concussion, splitting headache, but alive.
It wasn't all for naught, though.
The existence of an Elite in a facility we believed was a Conversion Site is good news. It points towards it being true.
The building was too isolated to be a Phase-Three attachment to some sort of Garrison. It just made sense.
I've no doubt I'll be returning at a later date. Hopefully with more of our brothers as backup.
Scouting mission... partial success.
We'll reclaim what is ours and use it to carve ourselves a future where we can live in peace.
Amongst the Stars.
Part 1 - Acknowledgement: https://nebulous.cloud/threads/pilgrims-path-acknowledgement.61545/
Part 2 - Reclamation: https://nebulous.cloud/threads/pilgrims-path-reclamation.61570/
Part 3 - Foundation: https://nebulous.cloud/threads/pilgrims-path-foundation.61574/
Part 4 - Pilgrimage: https://nebulous.cloud/threads/pilgrims-path-pilgrimage.61593/
Part 5 - Ascension: https://nebulous.cloud/threads/pilgrims-path-ascension.61596/
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