War of Elysium

Chapter 20: End of the Beginning.

        A monument of steel. Tall as the towers she had just fled; though much, much more dire. The sands of the old desert wore and moulded the fortress into something dark and wrong. The crystal towers of Elysium were gone. Adeladia descended upon what remained, We'illa. 

She had heard tell of this place. Of the marble sphynx that marked it's main gate. Of the teenage army, better equipped and trained than the Spartans of old. Her mother told her bed time stories of the ruler of this land. The Bidu. Both a king, and headmaster. She imagined something beyond a man, though seeing the rust and dirt infecting the steel perimeter walls had stripped her of any expectation of inhuman perfection. 

A pain shot through her cheek, though she refused to flinch. It focused her on her goals. It reminded her of her loss. She wouldn't hide from the throbbing sear, but she would hide it from the others. 

They all sat in silence as the shuttle rounded the city. Iris sat nearest, though she was Iris no longer. The natural red of her hair had began to seep from her roots to stain the perfect blonde mask. Her golden blush had been buried beneath dust and blood. A cut on her cheek looked as though it was soon to scar over. Her black sleeveless jacket with it's elegantly golden trims had been sullied by battle and sodden in other men's blood. A gash along the back exposed her shoulders, though no cut parted her flesh. The privilege of special forces and their bullet proof skin. 

She felt her own hand, the little cut and littler drop of blood that they wouldn't have to suffer. All the battles she had been subjected to, every cut and graze suffered, it seemed silly. This group of bullet proof warriors and the little girl with her little paper cut. 

The man named for the son of Zeus lay uneasily. She could almost hear the shards of metal rattle around him with every breath he struggled down. Shards he had taken on her behalf.
He wore a strange cotton sack that looked to be fashioned into a well worn cap. It drifted from atop of him, falling down as he slumped to his shoulder. 
"Commander Garrison?" Ade whispered. His lips smiled, though his eyes forgot to do the same. He coughed, masking it as a laugh, before sitting straight again. 
"I am alright, Doctor Tempish." He lied. His eyes darted from her, refusing her gaze and avoiding her silent inquest. He turned and dragged his shoulders along with him. "How far are we, Sergeant?" He weakly asked.
"A minute out, sir." She answered. Her eyes flicked up to the small shards that remained of the cockpit's old mirror. They examined Bernard's posture, and filled with dread. Then they flicked over to Ade and fell when they met the brown of her eyes. The worry didn't dissipate once she looked out to the horizon, but it was out of Ade's view. 

Ade looked at what she could still see of Lara. The tangled mess of remaining hair, the sleeveless hoodie beneath her combat carrier vest, the perfect blue of her eyes flittering gold as she squinted off at the distant landing zone.

"The Bidu's there." Lara chuckled as her eyes returned to blue. 
"Sit up straight, cadet. Don't want him thinking we've let you slack off." Reese mocked. Lara didn't reply though she did seem to slowly rise in her seat. 

They lowered. The little army ants growing and growing as they neared. She caught herself in the mirror and flinched. In the split second of eye contact with herself, she was almost frightened. Her mind hadn't realised it was her. For an instant, a stranger looked back at her with the intensity of a murderer. The dusty old glass didn't portray her properly but that wasn't the issue. It was her eye, hollow and angry. Faded to a wintery brown. It was her face, sunken and scarred. White as the ghosts she held in her dreams. Blood drenched and wearing borrowed clothes. Every part of the girl she had been was stolen away from her, or given up gladly. She saw, in that brief glimpse, the woman she would grow to be. The woman who would die in battle. The woman of vengeance. 
But that would be the future. When she held her gaze upon herself, and looked past the haze of glass, she could see the remnants of youth. She could see the flit of light that still persisted in her eye. She saw the tears she constantly fought back. The stray hairs that hadn't been doused in viscera. She saw the hoodie Lara had given her, and the comfort she still found within.