ACT 1: BANDIT UNIT
"We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats' feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar"
-T. S. Eliot 1888 –1965
By 0:500, we were the last unit standing.
The operation to retrieve the black box was a complete failure, and we all knew it. It didn't take long for Geoffrian forces to close in and pick us off one by one in brutal skirmishes.
"Hangman to Bandit Unit. I'm tracking multiple enemy patrols entering the A.O. You need to fall back to Delta-4 now!"
Hangman's voice was steady, but there was already an obvious strain beneath it. I couldn't blame her either, she's been flying for 6 hours straight at this point.
"Copy that, Hangman, Keep our skies clear." I calmly replied.
A faint chuckle crackled through the comms.
"Can't tell if you're- Wait… what? That can't be right… n—"
Static flickered within our radios followed by the sudden transmission of gunfire.
Within the umbra of the early morning sky, I caught a glimpse of her Metal Terror cutting through the clouds with the silhouettes of enemy Callers circling her like carrion birds.
Rays of light from their assault wands speared through the air, punching into her M.T. 's armor in bursts of molten flare; however she didn't even flinch.
Missiles screamed from her wings which lit the sky with streaks of fire.
After being launched, each projectile splintered off into finely shaped needles that landed on the enemy's rune shields, slowly drilling into them like nails into glass.
Most of the Callers never had time to react as they were pierced by thousands of shrapnel, their organs splattered and filled up their shields like a grotesque pickled jar.
The remaining survivors began to move towards her blind spots but before they could regroup, Hangman had already surged forward and unleashed a hailstorm of bullets from her rifle.
Traces of faint light from their skirmish tore through the clouds, magic and explosions scattered the skies collapsing into a dying constellation around her.
For a moment…just a moment, it looked like she could break through.
But not long after, a white energy surged from the forest below and sliced her M.T. in half.
A chorus of explosions radiated from the night sky and in the middle of it all, Hangman's final transmission came through.
"They lied to us."
A thousand burnt shards of flame fell from the heavens and from within its inferno, a devil-shaped machine plummeted to the scorched earth.
The creature within its armored frame cried out in loud shrieks of pain; however, they were soon silenced as its head was struck by shards of molten metal as it landed into the earth with a brutal, echoing crash.
This wasn't good. Hangman had the package and if she was down, it wouldn't stay ours for long.
I had just disembarked from my M.T. to scout the surrounding landscape for our unit. However, the situation had changed drastically.
I needed to reach the crash site before the enemy did.
From my rough estimations, it should be around 2 kilometers away from my position and I had around 5 minutes to get there…
"Two kilometers. Five minutes." I mutter to myself.
With the implants in my spine and legs, it was possible.
There was no time for hesitation.
My legs broke into a sprint towards the crash site through the swaying autumn trees, the faster I went the more the world around me narrowed to rhythm and blurred.
I could only vaguely see tree barks splintering against my shoulders as I cut straight through the forest.
Luckily enough for me the flames from her descent covered the sky with thick plums of smoke which made it harder for aerial forces to find her.
Around a kilometer in, the smell of burning composite and melted circuitry filled my nostrils accompanied by the scent of something organic.
Burning rot from the embers underneath the M.T.'s shattered armor immediately filled my nostrils and settled against the back of my throat .
As the wreck came into view, I slowed down.
Hangman's Metal Terror plummeted deep inside a shallow crater with its frame split open like a carcass eaten by vultures.
Parts of its plated armor were peeled back or outright destroyed, air hissed from its exposed wires with sparks of electricity crawling weakly across its severed conduits.
However, what piqued my interest the most were the remains of the creature within its armor.
Something that looked like its ribcage curled inward into the cockpit while whatever remained of its veins and innards were still directly fused seamlessly into wires.
I was quite used to piloting M.T.s but ironically enough it was my first time to see a Hollow so up close.
From here, it didn't look like a machine at all.
As its head leaned towards the ground, it was stuck into some sort of grotesque grin, while its jaws were split wide and filled with uneven, jagged teeth with hidden recesses of wires snaking within its mouth and piercing into each of its six bloodshot eyes, which lacked any traces of life at this point.
Through the pulsating shadows of thick smoke, I spotted a figure inside the crash, which I assume is Hangman's mangled body caught in a snarl of molten wires.
I was curious about her condition, however I needed to be cautious as she landed in a forest clearing.
Before coming out, I scanned the nearby tree line twice with a quick visual sweep, then a slower pass through my rifle scope.
No movement. Good. For now. However, I wouldn't push my luck. I knew that a single careless move was all it took for a Caller to come sweeping for my position.
The silence wasn't helping with that thought either, the forest stayed eerily calm despite the battle still echoing above. I wasn't used to it at all; usually a hail of gunfire would jolt me into action, or a missile would smother me with its noise.
However, peace of all things completely engulfed the chaos of the crash site and the fading cries of the Rider I once believed could defy death itself.
It's quite ironic, really, despite being praised for being the best rider, she was the first of us to fall.
Now everything she endured would amount to becoming a single statistic that humans could learn from, and then set aside. In the end, her existence became useful only in failure.
I always believed that it was always our fate to be used and thrown away by the humans who made us. The thought settled into me over time, until I began to wonder whether other Noctians carried the same awareness or if I alone had arrived at this grim epiphany on my own.
No being wants to see itself as a slave, after all. To accept such a truth is to admit that one's purpose was never chosen. But then I realized that perhaps I was created to be a pessimist.
Perhaps the fabricated memories that fit perfectly in my head were never meant to comfort me, but to shape me to make sure I fit the role they assigned. If so, then this awareness was not a flaw, but a function.
However in the end, belief is a human luxury that I am neither permitted nor designed to possess.
I buried my thoughts and pushed into the crash's fire without hesitation.
Hangman's body twisted towards me, her right hand was severed and tied with metal wires to the ceiling, the other half of her trembling arm's tendons tried to stretch toward me through the flames.
"Help me…" she rasped with blood bubbling from her chest.
A quick glance at her and I already determined her injury to be a penetrating thoracic trauma resulting in a left-sided pulmonary laceration with severe hemopneumothorax. This injury would totally collapse her left lung in about 5 minutes give or take, even with her implants she would not live long.
I met her eyes as I was scanning her body's worsening conditions. Her jade irises that were always sharp and unshaken were wide now, flooded with fear and something close to panic.
For a heartbeat, the world fell away, the crackle of fire, the groan of twisted metal, the distant thud of artillery, gone. I could only hear her ragged breaths.
Something in her look that told me she knew her fate and I– ś̵̱t̵͇͛o̸̳̅ṕ̵̭
I ultimately knew it was useless to try and
However, I could feel this sudden
Y̶̝͠o̶͝ͅù̶̩ ̵̞̽ň̴̬ẽ̶͚e̶̳̾d̵̙͆ ̵̯͘t̸͍̉o̵̫͆ ̸͙̒ś̵̱t̵͇͛o̸̳̅ṕ̵̭ ̸̮̒t̵̯̒h̵͇̚ě̴̼s̴͙̍ẹ̵̓ ̸̕ͅi̶̢̎ñ̶̼t̸̖̑ȓ̵̯ü̸̟s̵̞͠i̴̫͆v̶͔́e̸͎͝ ̷̘̈́t̷̼̾h̷̻́ô̴̪u̵̇͜g̸͙̑h̸͎̚t̴̲̊s̵͓̃ ̷̢͆f̴̺̈́r̶̡̐o̵̼͆m̷͔̀ ̷̺̄d̷̪̓i̵͍͘c̶̏ͅt̶͂ͅạ̷͑t̷͈̀í̸̠n̵̛̞g̷̢͆ ̸͔͘ÿ̴͓́ȯ̸̩u̵̮͝r̷̹͂ ̷̪̾a̴̟̿c̶̢͋ţ̴͆i̸̱̐ȯ̸͙ń̶͈s̴̡̏,̸̘̃ ̴͚̑
In any case, the most efficient action to take is to cut her transmission signal to avoid our channel being compromised and report her death to high command.
I leaned in closer and tapped her black earpiece twice. A faint confirmation beep registered through the crackle of surrounding fires. The storage compartment was located in a bent panel beside her seat.
There were under 5 minutes left until the Black Box sent its distress signal, I had to move quickly. The panel was scorched and partially fused. Cold had crept into my fingers, dulling fine motor control.
I set the pry point and applied force, the metal resisted and shrieked as it deformed. My grip slipped once but I immediately corrected myself and increased pressure into a weaker wedge which tore the cover open.
The black box lay inside intact, half-buried in the twisted remains of the cockpit. I press a black button on its topside and a green retro screen whirs to life.
I pressed a finger to my earpiece for a brief moment.
"Grim here. Black box retrieved. However, its integrity has dropped"
"Copy that, Grim. Get out of there and keep communication to a minimum. We don't want those damn Geoffrians on your tail."
Without wasting another moment, I sprinted once more towards the forest's edge where my Metal Terror crouched low among the pines, like a hunting beast at rest.
I climbed upon its scorched armor at its rear using its plating as leverage, quickly stowing the black box and my rifle into a narrow compartment set deep within the torso. I then pulled myself higher, toward the machine's nape, where a pod opened with a muted mechanical sigh.
As I slipped inside, I reached back to grab a cable that looked like an oversized aux cord and plugged it into the small surgical port at my nape. The cockpit stirred to life with a low hum, sealing shut around me.
I straddled into the seat like a motorcycle rider would and placed my hands into metal sockets.
A cold shiver then coursed through my spine as a transparent liquid seeped into my nerves followed by a numbing sensation which spread from my nape, it felt like ice crawling under my skin.
I soon felt drowsy as the pod's door closed; at this point, my eyes could barely make out the dim red glow that bled inside the pod.
They all seemed to pulse faintly, as if I were sitting inside a beating heart.
I exhaled a steady breath and let my eyes drift shut.
I could feel my mind flooding with memories, not mine alone, they all bled through the circuits. What? Thoughts collided, splint ered. And then we were one. Who is that?
And then fused.
Becoming someone else, becoming myself. ////////// <<<
Into one seamless pulse.
My sense of self unraveled, KILLED >>>> reshaped, as if I could understand
You? and I was rebuilt into something other. ///////////// <<<
Data became emotion. Emotion became code.
And then, <<< 👁 >>> amid the static a voice called me.
Ḽ̷̣̝͙̣̳̏̌͛̌͊̍̿̇ư̷̧͇͔̼̭̣̰͍͔͉̪͖͂͛̔͂̂̿͑̈́͂̕d̸̢͖̘͎͔̙̬̠̘̘̤̣̺͈͛̾̃̈́͑́̾̈́̈́͊̆͑̄͠ȩ̷̻̰͍̣̹͓̄̊ň̷̢̦̗͔̹̜̫̈́̈́̏̓ ̴̢̦̳͖͙̾͂͆̾̈́͒͐̾̑F̷̡̰̰̮̰͇̪͔̱̩́͛͋̐͜a̵̛͍͚̜̺͐̿̄̾ŭ̷͚͕̘̯͚͎̘̻͔̰͙̜̂̃͐̋̑s̴̢͍͖͈̪̮̰͖̲̪͚̩̋̑̀́̋͒̈̑͂̀̆͝ͅͅͅt̵̨̻͈͕̗̳͖͍̯͇̲̹̅̂̀͗͐̏̽̾̄̓̚̕͝͝͠ͅ
For a moment, I couldn't tell where I ended and where _____ began.
Someone or perhaps a memory—echoed through the network,
You are distorted and divine
When I opened my eyes again, the pod was gone. My senses grew sharper, I felt heavier, and alive.
I was no longer the pilot.
I was the Hollow.
A cacophony of mechanical noises crackled through my ears, radio frequencies flickering in and out before settling on a clear channel.
"Sentinel 3 to Bandit Unit—we've confirmed a large enemy interception battalion of Class 3 anti-artillery Caller units on radar. Enemy Anti M.T. units are also active in the area. Retreat now."
"Negative on that order, Sentinel. We can't retreat. We're being flanked from Sector Delta-3 we're overrun."
"Grim? Is that you? What's the situation? Do you have the package?"
"Hangman's gone, however the package is secure."
"...Roger. Command is now transferred to the highest-ranking officer in the field. That's you. Bring that artifact home, Grim. Our homeland depends on it."
"Copy that."