Timelines Collide

Chapter 5: Final Stand

Not only does she leave me with reopened wounds, not only does she leave me with two halves of my friend—to add insult, but she also leaves the door entirely. 

Her footsteps echo away as the hooves of the bots come, replacing hers. She's going to wish she sickled through the door herself. The others remain baffled at the situation, though we don't have much time to even try and explain it. I can bet there's maybe only a minute before that door falls.

No words spill between us as I rush for a hidden gun underneath a monitor. No surprise, it belongs to Ethan as it was hidden underneath his monitor. I toss the gun to Hardcase who catches it like a baseball before taking cover within the underpass of the stairs. 

I give Heavy the blade I once brandished; he clutches it tight like the towel to his wound. I then join Hardcase, my pistol on my side within the underpass while Heavy remains where he was treated, barely able to stand.

Right on time as our fingers clench the triggers, the door falls to the ground. We knock down two before they can even enter the room. I was hoping that one of them will be the acolyte girl or at least Kactus letting his guard down; however, neither of them is in sight as they return fire. 

All that try to enter eat the dirt to Hardcase's plasma rifle. My pistol does some work, making them take cover from the hallway though their steaming red eyes get closer than my pistol can keep at bay. 

I dive for the metal table that has the King of Spades who predicted this whole ordeal and use it as cover. I take out all the flankers while Hardcase continues firing into the crowd. He only lets the trigger go for a second when bits start flaking off the gun.

I then hear the gearing-up sensation and know it all too well; a Lungers lunges from the shadows directly on my side. To my surprise, it falls just as quickly back to the ground with a well-placed acolyte blade inside its eye. 

I immediately glance over at Heavy who's panting over the monitor from his hidey-hole. Even now, with a leaking hole in his chest, he still chooses to try and help. It's official, none of us are going down without a fight.

Even with his added-on pistol fire, they start coming in like bees out of a hive. I ram one with the table as it runs toward me, taking out a few others along the way. My chest remains on the table as I note the sound of other blaster bolts firing around the corner. A smile never appears faster on my face watching their metal gears grind themselves while trying to maintain focus on two fronts.

I can't believe it. They all came in the nick of time. That joy I can feel drop dead at the smell of smoke from a blaster inches away from my cheek. Those bots might shoot fast, but thankfully, Lincoln's men are faster. Still, as that bot's body falls to the floor with its blaster hitting my feet, it can't compare to the quivering inside my eyes.

I can only see three through the doorway, yet I can hear the pitter-patter of many more. The three troopers who fought to save our skins make their way into the room—Commander 76 is one of them. 

A kid no older than I am who always wears a black trench coat and top hat with a velcro strap, making him look like a detective from the 2000s. The only other thing he shows is a white, modified, hockey mask that sticks to him like Buzzard to his goggles. Somehow his voice speaks that of a siren.

"Is everything alright, Commander?" he asks, his hand reaching me from the ground.

I gratefully but slowly take his offer, making sure he is of flesh and bone. Thankfully, his hands have gloves with holes showing his pale skin, which causes my eyes to stop fluttering on the inside.

"As best as I can be," I tell him, still shuddering inside my boots. "We have one who's in need of immediate medical attention."

As I say that, Heavy, who at this point is pouring sweat over the monitor, collapses loudly to the metal floor. 76 motions his hands to the two soldiers to rush over to his position. Looking at them closer now, I can see the medical and 104th battalion symbols on their shoulders. Hardcase offers to stay with Heavy, giving the med troopers a rundown on what had happened to him. That leaves only me and 76 to go see the signet warrior himself.

There are many sights to behold while rushing down the halls. Bots' bodies litter the way while soldiers move around cleaning up any stragglers. I even see a poor boy getting mauled by a Lunger; his fellow soldiers make his screams only last an instant—just another five-pound upon my heart. 

Once on the first floor from where it all began, soldiers now huddle around near the end of the tunnel that leads to the gate. They clear a path once they see our patches. Now the sound of smashing blades makes sense.

Lincoln, my signet warrior, the boy with the polished white hair, duels both Kactus and the acolyte girl that gave my squad so much trouble. Everyone's eyes watch in amazement as he counters their attacks with his own blade, making them look to be his jesters, putting on a show for his people. 

An acolyte commander is the second-highest rank one can get besides a personal hand. Even the girl with the sickle is holding up to his level. To think these two made me and my squad shit bricks while Lincoln dodges and counters with jabs and kicks—making them look like a couple of bots.

What's even more satisfying for me is the fact that Lincoln only sees them with one eye; the other is covered up by an eye patch. Still, with no trouble, he disarms the girl and slashes one of her calves. Her voice muffles distorted through her helmet in pain as she falls, struggling to stay on one knee. 76 takes it as his queue along with some others to surround and restrain the defeated girl. My eyes continue keeping tabs on the ongoing fight.

Kactus manages to slash a few bits of Lincoln's skin. He always twitches his body slightly at even the tiniest cut. Looking closely, no one else can really tell with him wearing his black flak jacket, matching the color of his patch, but I know what to look for. The only thing other than black he dawns is the silver shoulder pad that bears his signet of unity and of the 104th. Four red rings, connected by a star. 

He continues to make his status known through a fancy display. By first slashing Kactus's blade in two, then catching the upper half from the air before it falls, and then shoving the tip into Kactus's chest before he can react.

Everyone starts chanting his name like a pack of howling wolves as Kactus staggers backward and smashes his back heavily into the ground. He pays them no mind while he brushes off what little dust he gathered from the scuffle on his jacket only choosing to smile in my direction. My eyes can only go to the floor as he does so. 

Only to shoot back up as the crowd of cheering soldiers goes abruptly silent watching a blood-drenched Kactus rise from the dead with visible rage sweeping from his helmet. 

He yells to Lincoln, "You dare turn your back to me?! Our battle isn't finished. Do you have no honor?!"

Lincoln only turns his head in and replies in his thick British accent, "It's more honorable to know when one is beaten instead of dragging out a losing battle, Kactus." 

Maybe it was Lincoln's words mixed in with the pain fizzing from Kactus's chest but even through his helmet everyone could see his rage steaming over. 

"No...No! The Legion will have all your limbs and replace them with metal," he screams out to the crowd. "But for now, Lincoln. I'll have your signet!!"

He picks up the remaining half of his blade and rushes for Lincoln's signet shoulder. A pistol bolt echoes past Lincoln before he can grab his own. It goes right through Kactus's already broken chest plate, making him fall quickly back to the ground. 

No one comprehends what has just happened. But I know one thing. His body will be the last to fall. And as Lincoln then stares at the set of trembling hands holding out a pistol still lingering with smoke in the front of the crowd, I can only hope that my hands are the last to take a life tonight.