Message #41236

[VoraX]

Chapter 8 - The Last Human War (Star One - First Sacrifice -)







All men aboard were now distributed in both Dragon's Wings at front of inverse triangular formation with the tranporter, the Dragon's Belly. Tenchu and Forge-X were pilots of the Wings, Modem as Tenchu co-pilot and Igor as Forge's one. The rest, the farmer bros "Rural" and "Tractor", " Doc Baali", "Bomber Fire-n-heat" and the ArchLord VoraX himself were on the Belly, pilot by Verdatta. All men but one, "Zuta", who was an old VoraX's uncle, in who he deposited his absolut entire trust, were doing this travesy. "Zuta" remaint on board Dragon's Tail with all the five pregnant, warrior women.



They arrived France all the way from Mediterranean Sea, making stops to refuel and research for data about the original Secronom Lab, from where the virus spread, coordinates. The ArchLord was determined to follow that clue to the last consequence. After weeks of disciplined maneuvering through rural and urban disolated scenarios, they were close enough as to witness a dirty, rusty, bloody Eiffel tower at a distance. The pilots played triangular ecuations between themselves with coordinates, scanning the ruins of the City of Squenched Light. Its streets and highway were mostly obstructed, a millionaire grey-blooded carnival of death, from both classes, the quiet  and the hungry ones. Mutated cannival corpses virally infected, pillaging chaoticly, being boring anguish themselves, reptilian brains fueled only by the will of artificial organism, alive, after all...alive... The ArchLord was half the time focus on his surroundings, the other half lost beyond the horizon, his Aura radiating intense colours. They were all one, one team, one mind, one faith, one body, one soul, ONE.

"We have a found the most accurate coordinates we are able to, we are very close, open your eyes Comrades, its down us, Over" they all listened metallized Forge's voice through the radios inside their Black Dragon Agents Helmet. Their High-Tech Gear were Master Crafted by themselves all together, equal to none. They search with binoculars, the dark clouded sky filtered the last sunlight rays.



"Something is wrong" Tenchu metallized radio voice was firmly and undoubtably affirmative. "I sense hostiles. Over." "I sense them too...francmasons" and with VoraX reply they all suddenly felt it clear as a feeling, they even felt their proximity...and their high speed, like radars, a bat colony, alerted, on their positions, working, flying ants, enjoying the well earnt adrenaline shots. "Helicopters..." Forge voice was distant in a world of Innuendo sounds, but they understood."Four, and they know what theyre doing. Over..fuckyeah.." "Are you ready to fulfill your destiny as Agents and share your blood with mine?" "FOR THE GLORY" was the extatic answer at unison, the empowerment was stimulating, to say the least..





"Atterrissez dans cet instant, dans le cas contraire nous ouvrirons un feu!" They all understood that French inmediatly, they were not going to negociate obeying. "FIRE" VoraX grunted, and the Dragon flamed, because, they were ONE. Crossing big caliber bullets both formations played chess, the six Apache two warring wasp hives, "Landing Eggs, Over." Verdatta claimed, this was his salsa, and then five ropes reached the messy concrete of Paris, the Belly left to cover. Howlings from thousands dead throats claimed their flesh, while VoraX extended his arms, and the infected stop. "Rural", "Tractor", "Farenheit" and "Doc Baali" covered the ArchLord inside a circle as he advanced in the middle, firmly staring at one specific point in his periphelical view, then the infected followed them, with what could be satiricly interpretate as respect. Dozens of uniformed french militars open fire from windows and corners, but the bodies of the infected shield them fine. Thousand of empty 7,62MM bullets rained over several blocks at round, missiles flight piercing the winds..."BOOOOMMMM!!!" one left, and another "BOOOOOOOMMM!!!!" and pieces of burning junk felt like a proper infernal rain of fire and metal and limbs...



Both Wings were damaged, no ammo left, and the two remaining "francmasons" machine guns kept making bigger and bigger holes, the cabins opened and the four Agents seats were propulsed in the gunpowder contaminated sky, black parapentes opened, four dragons flight at dusk, three of them landing on buildings, killing enemies while at it, as winged nocturnal predators, they punished the last human responsables, those who were directly connected with the outbreak.




While the fourth...




Tenchu directed himself at fall speed, without security belt, straight toward one of the french's Apache. At a certain distance, he released himself from straps, to flip over and grabb himself from one of the chopter wings, holding and climbing as a natural force, a modern ninja. With insuperable courage, unbreakable determination, ultimate athletism and animal grace, he managed to make the cabin explode using plastic, kill both pilots, and aim the controls on the other enemy direction. Tenchu silouette was lost in the exploding collition, taking the last rival airforce...and the Agents felt Fenrir's Rage growing as volcanic eruption from withing, as one of their most perfect brother return in honor and glory to the Dragon.

The rest was not a battle, but a massacre.