Word count: ~ 102,000

First 50 pages of the unedited manuscript March 30, 2023.

Chapter 1

There was a sudden breach. A rupture in the light-soaked sea that stretched endlessly. A single column of black light—a rising beam that stretched beyond the glimmering ocean—rippled through the horizon, creating a continuous sonic and luminous boom that swallowed light into the growing mass that stretched beyond the fissure. The plume of darkness receded into the rising object as the ocean of light was restored, and the singular black anomaly continued to travel beyond the radiance until it turned course, changing its trajectory to the sea from whence it came.

But the figure slowed as it reached the zenith of its travel, and the once vibrant blacks receded into the dull and opaque character that floated weightlessly over the blinding waters. A dark mist began to spill, slowly crawling over the horizon, until it turned to an ever-growing fog that began to eclipse over the light beneath.

The fog turned to a pool of darkness that only grew, while luminance was swallowed within the matted, gelatinous mass that rippled towards the center of a singular figure that guzzled light. A darkness so pure, that no light would escape, and soon everything was draped in the swelling corruption as it seeped over the horizon. The darkness clung to the air, forming lines of black light that gently made their way into the waters where it pooled and grew.

The endless light turned to mire. And soon its resplendence surrendered to the growing madness as the ellipse of darkness was formed, draping out light within the enclosure, and trapping those within its closure.

Darkness’ tentacles now entombed one of countless pockmarks over the landscape: blights and aberrations of corruption that were speckled over the irradiant specter that filled every corner with light.

But atop the eclipse, the epicenter of the ripples, a figure attempted to rise from the black slime. The torso and head pushed against the lining, when a trident suddenly ripped through the black mass, slithering out the womb.

Then the laughter began.

When the creature stopped, only the gusts of sea winds and light sails remained—crashing against the mass that rose beyond anything on the plain—while the silhouette atop the ellipse rested over the domain.

Its glistening body shone as bright as the light, but matted as it dried—an all-consuming force of light. Everything around it became opaque.

A single trident rose before it: piercing the heavens as the creature held it dearly, its arms wrapped around it, while kneeling before it.

The landscape of light was unexpectedly over glowed by a sudden ignition of radiance, that beamed far beyond the trident the creature beheld, and with it a black lightning storm traveled to the heavens: eruptions of black clouds followed by black lightning.

 Laughter broke amidst the chaos, resuming where it had left off, when three blinding lights matched the surrounding brightness, disappearing every ounce of light, as they danced on the blank helm.

The three spotlights stopped when they began to spiral out of control—maniacal abominations that formed primeval faces—then pausing until the smile stretched from ear-to-ear, and the eyes became event horizons.

The silence was no more and the chatter within Psychlolis’ web alerted the wrath of the feast that laid in wait.

The growing darkness stripped everyone within its reach from sight—bare of light, forced to fumble in the dark—while laughter shook every corner of the trap. Soon the air thickened and moistened as the temperature rose and showers dampened the void.

Lights slowly flickered to life in the midst of the black abyss as silence drew and the sound of rain stampeded across the plain. But amidst the fog, nothing was within sight, just a thicket of mist for those in the chasm.

What little light escaped revealed those trapped within Psychlolis’ maw and the terror that drove them to hysteria.

Atop the ellipse’s peak, Psychlolis began to melt into the surface of the mass, as Maniae joined the wrath in their descent.

Those trapped inside illuminated what little they could before their eyes—a dense fog that shrouded everything beyond arms reach as creatures went still in the absence of sight.

The deceptively large bipeds stood upright, but their backs curved, and their posture leaned, so the older creatures rested on their polearms or walking sticks for support. Their blackened and gray armors—lusterless husks of metal—hid the hairless, lifeless and pale, death-stricken flesh, revealing the black rivers that laid buried beneath their skin. Under the heavy plated helm, three eyes came to life as red light spilled from their crimson corneas. Those revealing their faces opened their jowls wide—massive jaws with thick, rubbery, wet gums lined with rows of white dots that spanned the whole of the gum-line. In the absence of a nose, muscles controlled the nasal passages—rapidly moving as they sniffed their surroundings. The center eye—centered atop the pair of eyes—was larger in size, with no lashes or eyebrows, but an eyelid that could not contain the red brightness. 

While they varied in size, they all shared the same emaciated and sickly body-type that withered and curled as they aged, maintaining their large, oblong, misshapen heads.

Those inside frenzied while the wrath laughed and pushed against the inside lining of the dome—stretching the skin to its limit until its claws eventually tore through the fleshy mass. Psychlolis stopped before falling, levitating, while Maniae floated alongside him. His laughter never stopped.

The glow from the Mad One’s eyes beamed to every corner—like three stars dancing at a distance—their brightness and contrast so resplendent that those trapped marched towards the wrath in the hope that they may reach an exit in the endless field of darkness.

As the wrath continued its descent, it clutched Maniae, and the black lightning extended to his body, while the darkness that emanated from the pair turned a dark purple as the edges of the growing mass transitioned to royal purple.

The creatures frenzied—yells and screams, panic and terror broke in their ranks—while Psychlolis glided to the ground, his laughter reverberating through the dark vacuum as the three stars only grew larger in size.

But then the creatures turned their attention to the moving ground—rolling under their feet as something came to life beneath the black mass that enclosed everyone trapped inside… while some lost their footing, others attacked the ground.

Psychlolis glided, extending the toes, until finally, his heels touched on the gelatinous mass, rendering it still. He gripped Maniae above ground as the vortexes of light scanned the landscape amidst the purple fog that only grew.

There he stood. Maniae by his side. The black silhouettes in a growing fog of purple with the eyes and mouth beaming across the plain—when the ground and the whole of the chamber simultaneously revealed a sea of eyes that hugged every corner of the chamber connecting to Psychlolis. The laughter never stopped. It only echoed louder and more intensely throughout the cavernous chamber.

Those creatures trapped, stabbed the eyes beneath their feet, as they found themselves stepping on mounds of them covering every inch of ground, but just as they destroyed an eye, smaller ones emerged, growing in size.

Then the ground began to stretch, faces pressing against the black sea where eyes laid, and soon hands and arms pushed for freedom.

Psychlolis stopped, pausing to hear the massive mass he created stretch to the limit—fibers tearing and flesh ripping—until the trident’s four-faceless-headed-butt touched the ground.

The cavernous enclosure was breached by creatures like those trapped, Caeles, Vaeles, H. sapien, and countless other species that slithered on the ground, rapidly rising to their feet, instinctively coming to life, and seeking their first bite.

Those trapped were overwhelmed instantly. The breaching creatures grabbed them by their legs and feet, collapsing them to the ground, and tearing them apart piece by piece. Limb by limb. They tore extremities whole, eviscerating, and feasting on the bodies of those trapped as they screamed and fought until they could scream and fight no more.

Psychlolis’ abominations gorged on the bodies and carcasses, a rolling sea of darkness that moved to the sound of the feast.

The smell of death filled the space, stirring Psychlolis when a sudden urge—an electric shock, a jolt of euphoria—filled the wrath with delight and anxiety that bubbled to the surface, and finally unable to contain himself, releasing to the madness.

Maniae was left standing, but Psychlolis was no more. A column of light extended beyond, forming a wall that rose the height of the wrath, and an echoing boom that followed closely behind: impacting creatures wholesale—shredding their bodies, and flinging their remains arbitrarily—joining in the carnage.

The wrath frenzied further as it abandoned its physical form, becoming a destructive beam of light that raced across the abyss, but Psychlolis only lost himself further in the devastation until his psyche filled with rage. Madness was the only thing that remained.

An uncontrollable and unchecked madness drove the wrath further into the depths of despair and soon the only joy was to continue inflicting the pain it felt onto others.

The destruction continued until no life remained. No one was spared.

Psychlolis stopped, laughing at the sight: remains of death from which his creations fed.

But their moment of joy was cut short, and their gluttonous binge ended abruptly when screams broke. Their bodies melted, melding to the ground, until they collapsed and liquified into the black mass. The laughter never stopped.

Then sudden silence.

Stillness reclaimed its place. But Psychlolis wasn’t done.

Maniae appeared before the mad one. It held his hands before, gripping the trident, then slamming its butt on the ground, and recalling the dome. The darkness collapsed onto the weapon, a sudden gulp of corruption that with a single motion wiped away the pollution that had stretched for leagues. But there were many more.

 Psychlolis stalked the horizon while his eyes spun uncontrollably. The mouth opened and light spilled over its helm, slowly dripping out the mouth, and down the chest plate of the black armor while his body twitched.

Then the tempest that raged in his eyes stopped—a stationary cyclone—and light pooled on the edges, slowly trickling down the guttural smile that stretched beyond the edges of the helm until a cascade of light rolled down the mouth, crawling over the torso until it was coated with light over the universal black of his armor.

Amidst the sea of splendor, the black specter of the wrath drew waves of light towards the monster that summoned nature. There he stood: in his blackened splendor witness to the aberrations.

The rage and madness filled Psychlolis with joy and the laughter thundered beyond.

Maniae rang, a chorus beckoning, and heralding the arrival when Psychlolis drew the forks close to his mouth, stretching his jowls wide, and reaching for the metal with his long, serpent-like tongue as the arm’s twitch the closer it came when suddenly the surge of energy consumed the mad one: a sudden catalyst, and Psychlolis vanished with Maniae in tow.

A wake was carved over the blinding scape, a column of black light with bolts of black lightning, and energy that collapsed surrounding matter into the tail of particles that chased after the wrath and his companion.

Screams rang in the head of the wrath, growing louder as it raged further into insanity, and more intensely when it collapsed onto the corrupted masses of creatures and blight, devouring all life, and swiftly moving onto the next blot.

Psychlolis was enraged further, and reveling in the madness continued its flurry, eventually growing tiresome of the manner of killing.

But it wasn’t enough.

The mad one stopped, gripping Maniae with his left hand—the trident turning crimson as the black metal blazed—pausing, and silently contemplating the landscape: there were countless blots before the wrath.

The ones still cyclones, reignited, turning viciously till there was one solid comprehensible eye amidst the storm of wrath until it turned to madness…

He lunged forward, one single thrust propelled him thousands of leagues, reaching speeds that would dematerialize any ordinary creature while Maniae glowed brightly—a red so bright it dwarfed any star, and a crimson so bloody it drowned nebulas: a universal aberration wielding forward a weapon more powerful than he or all his kin combined.

The creatures that came before his reach would be reduced to ash, those strong enough would be burnt alive before Maniae slashed, and those that dared only muddled with the wrath’s destructive tide.

The laughter never stopped as the killing continued, but the screams grew more intensely until they could no longer be ignored.

Paralysis struck Psychlolis and he stood in the midst of it all… the calm finally allowed to fight for the vacuum. There was labored breathing, as he held the trident before him like a flag, then laughter stopped.

The smile turned, souring, and turning into sadness while the eyes wept—not tears of joy, but of pain and sorrow—and the momentary silence was filled with the weeping of the wrath.

The weeping caused ripples, unusual movement in the light, and the corruption that had long persisted, slowly receded.

Maniae sung, whispering to the wrath, but to no avail.

Psychlolis struck his head with his right fist, while clutching Maniae with his left, and again… he continued to strike until the helm began to crack, light bleeding over the growing chasms, until it steadily flowed down whatever black remained in his helm.

But the weeping continued.

Dropping to his knees, begging for an end, he stared to the heavens while striking his head.

Suddenly the mad one began to gag. A sudden, involuntary reaction, and a trigger: then vomiting of light. It regurgitated more, as the eruption of light spewed vile as bright as the sun that dripped over its blinding armor—the once ultra-black surface now speckled in light—that shone brighter than the sea it stood amidst.

The sorrow overwhelmed the wrath. With eyes beckoning reprieve, it wept uncontrollably, until its jaw cracked—dislocating out of place—and surrendering to the head that stood in place as Psychlolis’ head recoiled backwards: dangling by its spinal thread, and the lower jaw dislocated before the collarbone of the face that rose from the wrath’s mouth.

Bryce was covered in the corrupted and light-stricken slime, drooling slowly over their face, awakening to the sight of the sea and the splendor that laid before.

The sudden warmth comforted the teen, the glow of the sea warming the skin, and filling the heart with relief when Psychlolis’ body began to reject the child while Maniae screamed and shrieked—growing louder the longer Bryce was out of their prison—when hands pushed onto the teen’s head, attempting to bury the child back to the bowels, when Maniae finally collapsed to the ground.

The sudden collapse and ringing of the trident rang far and wide. Psychlolis collapsed to his knees while Bryce screamed.

A flurry of fist swung towards Bryce, but the screaming stopped them short until the wrath collapsed, rolling into a fetal position.

The laughter was gone and only weeping remained.

Screams replaced the landscape, filling every crevice—sudden shrieks and roars, wrath and vitriol—as Bryce and Psychlolis both reveled in the anger, the madness, and sorrow.

They were slow to come to their knees, and while Psychlolis’ limp tongue dangled over the cuirass—Bryce stood, ripping the wrath’s lower jaw, tearing it out of place until it hung over their collar bone; and draping the wrath’s upper jaw like a headdress until it stiffened and hardened to form the helm of the teen. The head of the wrath conformed, and suddenly the ghastly shape of the smiling and laughing mad one was apparent over the refugee—the corruption and light evaporating over everything they touched, till there was the universal black armor overcast by the bright glow of the brightest light that blinded all those in sight.  

Their body convulsed, a sudden reaction, and contraction that retorted the body, recoiling, and jerking Bryce forward as screeching pain was bequeathed unto the child, surrendering to the growth that spurt in their back. Sudden tears ripped through the back as six wings sprung beyond, extending many lengths afar, and bestowing those with immeasurable light.

Bryce yelled, screaming, as they wrenched with the power, fighting the fear, until madness set in.

The wings grew evermore, draping the sea with the blackened shroud drenched in light, its distortion rippling over the mass as Bryce wrestled with Psychlolis, writhing and coiling till one surrendered.

Psychlolis took possession of the left hand, as Bryce wrestled Maniae to the right hand, while the jowls of the wrath closed on life.

A storm brewed—the likes of Jupiter and Saturn—growing, till it could grow no more.

Masses of corruption, blots of blight, all surrendered to the growing mass that engulfed all. The aberrations disintegrated slowly, capitulating to nothing, surrendering form till they were returned to creation in the barest of forms. A mere particle in the universal whole.

The wings continued to grow, extending across a plain so vast that six lines served as guide to a singular point: moored to the plain, unwavering to the seas, a still picture in the light.

A momentary peace.

Maniae was suddenly surrendered, but it floated, as the left hand reached for the lower jaw of Psychlolis and the right reached for the upper jaw.

There was a sudden struggle, a tug of war, that led every fiber to stretch far beyond, till they surrendered and tore—snapping at every strand—when a fist flew into the face of Bryce: again, and again, forcing the right hand to finally cross paths. While one struck, the other blocked, and the wings shook, sending ripples over the mass, and distortions of light over the endless sea.

“Kill me!!!” Bryce screamed.

The madness consumed the wrath, and the right arm provided what little protection it could.

The helm fought to reclaim Bryce’s face, but they withstood despite repeated strikes and bloodied bruises.

“Kill me!!!” Bryce stood.

The darkness the crept over the horizon knew one source and Bryce struck at it once more.

A solitary tear rolled down, and soon a number rained before their face but Bryce knew it all too well… a familiar taste and their spirit enflamed.

The rising flame, a growing pyre, and sudden respire drowned the six-winged teen, and the light fought the corruption until it devoured the blight.

A singular beam consumed the surroundings.

A burst so bright that its resplendence shone beyond.

The corruption was gone, and the six-winged child stood amidst the doubt, thrusting Maniae to the sky.

Lightning, then beams of light, rained down upon the corruption in the immediate plain as it slowly subsided.

But a string pulled at Bryce’s heart. A voice of doubt, that turned to anger, and resentment.

Then the plain was restored amidst a sea of light rife with corruption and blight.

Chapter 2

The shrieks and terrors sung over the San Diego Bay: a unified chorus of pain and suffering as the waters burnt while the crumbling city capitulated and structures whole cowered into the waters, surrendering to the Awakened invasion. Nowhere to be safe.

The burning isle was no different than the sweltering landscape, and while explosions rippled the bellowing vessels that scorched before sinking to a watery grave, they both shared a fiery end.

Amid the flames, the remnants of the Pride rallied together to rescue what survived, and ready for the next attack.

The sun was orange and the skies were red as flames bellowed below with bright orange and yellow hues. But beneath it all, the cloud of smog and fire swooped over the burning water. Little rose from the glimmering embers, and the isle burnt brighter than the horizon.

The air was thick, unbreathable, and choking until it held and no air could move… those closest to the pyre stressing higher.

For those caught closest to the explosions, the ringing was loud, and piercing, deafening those caught within its shrill.

Figures were slow to rise from the sand and rubble behind the smoke screens, with shouts and screams intermittently echoing over the burning fires.

“Bryce!!! Miguel!!!” the shouts echoed.

Radio transmissions cut out, as the ringing muted with the passage of time, and the wails of sirens finally reached the bog of smog and fire.

“Red!” a shadow called from behind a wall of smoke. “Red!!!” 

“I’m over here!” Red finally rose to her feet, removing the battered helm, and dropping it on the ground. She looked around, only to find herself in the mist of the chaos, when her lungs suffocated with burning combustion, and scrambling to salvage the rebreather in the helm.

“Red!!!” Leona emerged from the blackened curtain, rushing to her aide. “You’re hurt!” But Red pays no attention to her; instead, she disassembled the breathing apparatus from the helm, but Leona with the clear visor and steady hand immediately detached the rebreather. Red stuffed it in her mouth, breathing a steady and clean supply of air, but coughing with every other inhalation, while her eyes watered from the burning and polluted environment.

“What’s the status?” Red asked as Leona helped her to her feet. 

“The four units are gone, and we have 13% of the defensive measures remaining.”

“You got a visor?” Red squinted her bloodshot, tearing eyes.

“At the armory, but…”

“But what?!”

“Access is blocked by the rubble… the whole house collapsed.”

“Miguel?” Red began walking towards the direction of the mansion with Leona in tow.

“Buried underground. We’re working on clearing the access,” replied Leona, scanning the surrounding for any threats.

“And sensei?”

Red continued walking until she could no longer hear Leona’s steps following closely, stopping to find Leona standing still.

“Where’s sensei?” Red asked as she stepped before Leona.

“He’s gone. So is Talia,” replied Leona.

“What do you mean gone?”

“He didn’t make it…”

“No,” Red replied. “That can’t be.”

“We found his helmet with his head still attached. We’re still looking for her remains.”

“No!” Red punched Leona in the chest with her right fist.

“I’m sorry, Julia,” Leona hugged Red, as she repeatedly punched her body armor, relenting to a sudden sadness and bitterness that quickly catalyzed to anger.

“No!” Red pushed away from Leona. “This isn’t over!!! Get me into that armory!” She turned and marched faster towards the rubble.  

The loud generator motors powered the little light that could navigate the dense air while the Pride scoured the rubble for survivors, while clearing the way to the buried armories.

Makeshift emergency units and tents rose, as personnel scrambled to give adequate medical help to the wounded: rows of bodies with various injuries and amputations—it was a scramble to keep what little remained alive.

Red scanned the calamity, fear and terror suddenly striking throughout her body, a sudden paralysis and shock that shook her spirit.

“Red!” A voice yelled, prompting her to stretch the neck, and scanning for the person.

Sakura waved from the medical tent as she approached Red and Leona until they meet in the middle.  

“I thought you were dead!” Sakura gripped her sister’s inner right arm as they hugged. “You need to get that checked.”

“I don’t have time for that,” Red replied, pushing away from Sakura. “What’s the status?”

“40% KIA, 13% MIA, and 21% wounded,” Sakura scanned her wrist pad, her helm’s visor clear, and on power saver mode.

“A quarter of our remaining force…” Red shook her head.

“Red,” Zahrah approached the trio. “Here, thought you could use them.”

“You’re a life saver,” Red replied, grabbing the goggles out of Zahrah’s left hand, and covering her eyes. She fastened the headset COMMs that tethered to the goggles, running the line to the communication box strapped to her body armor. “Radio check.”

“Radio check good. Over,” a voice replied over Red’s comms.

“Copy,” Red touched the wet patch over her face, but she couldn’t make out what it was over her black armored gloves.

“Here,” Sakura placed gauze over the left side of her forehead. “You need to get checked.”

“No time,” Red answered, walking towards the rubble with Leona and Zahrah stacked behind.

“What are we going to do if they return?!” Sakura yelled from where she stood.

The trio stopped, and Red turned, “We fight!”

“With what?!” Sakura replied, walking to meet them. “With what do you propose?”

“We still have…”

“A quarter of our fighting force, and no real defensive countermeasures,” Sakura answered monotonically.

“We do have something…” Leona hesitated.

“You can’t be serious,” Red scoffed. “This isn’t it!”

“This isn’t it?” Leona interrupted. “Look around, look at us, look at you! You can barely stand!!!”

Leona shoved Red as she stumbled to stay upright. “Now’s not the time to be irrational.”

“Sensei said, ‘if it’s life or death—’”

“I know what he said!!!” Red interrupted.

“Let’s put it to a vote: those in favor of resurfacing the relic and reawakening the ANAMAR say aye,” Leona looked at Sakura and Red.

“Aye,” answered Sakura with no hesitation.

“Aye,” said Leona.

“…Aye,” replied Red.

“Sakura, begin the process,” Leona glanced at Sakura as she nodded in approval.

“Who’ll be jockeying Icarus?” Red wobbled. “You need someone inside in case we need to pull the plug.”

“Someone small…” Sakura thought, “One of the kids?”

“We only have two here with us,” replied Red. “Where’s Bryce?”

“Still looking,” Zahrah answered.

“Find Bryce,” Red instructed Zahrah who saluted, turning, and disappearing into the blazing hazing.

“Leona and I will clear the rubble—you get that thing outta water. Got it?” Red looked at Sakura’s eyes. “No mistakes or we may have to fight two enemies at once.”

“No mistakes,” Sakura nodded.  

“Let’s go!” Red and Leona trotted to the ruins, disappearing into the fire.

Chapter 3

The yells and cries traveled over the scorching waters while metal groaned to a watery grave as screams faded and echoes of metal clanking sunk further below the bubbling sea. The surface burnt brightly, the only source of light, as everything laid buried in the deathly fog: no ray from the sun to pierce the tide. Schools of sailors swum away from the creeping flames as the fires grew, and whatever lifeboats sailed away, rowed faster at the sight.

“Don’t look back and keep rowing!!!”

“Bri!” Bri was still as she beheld the burning flats when Joanna shook her to life. “You gotta’ row,” Jo looked her in the eyes.

“Keep rowing!” JT turned to Commander Jimenez while the rest of the survivors rowed in unison.

A sailor took the paddle, sliding into her seat, as Jo pulled her close, and the lifeboat continued its journey away from the burning wreckages.

“Where are we going?” Joanna asked.

“To that isle over there!” JT replied, turning his head, and nodding towards the bow of the boat.

“That burning isle?”

“At least its dry land, and there’s people there,” he turned his back and continued rowing.

“We need to turn this back once we unload you survivors!!!” The officer at the bow yelled once more.

“Why?” Joanna replied.

“We don’t leave our own behind,” JT answered. “Now row!!!”

“Survivors!!!” The officer yelled, and pointed at the smoldering shore. “Now row! Row! Row!”

Numerous other lifeboats navigated to the same destination when a single blinding blue streak shattered sound and a column of water followed closely behind: in an instant it traveled from one end of the bay to the other. Suddenly the air cleared and the singular blue figure rested over the burning wreckages—the flames and smog rightfully reclaiming their place almost instantaneously—when the winds and ocean breeze went still. Then abruptly changing direction until the air and tide moved against the laws of nature as it moved to the singular point that rested amidst the fleet’s burning wreckage.

The wind speeds climbed and the waves grew as matter began moving to the singular figure.

Across the bay everyone could see the flickering blue star that floated over the waters, growing brighter and more intensely as time went on, until the singularity was observed from space.

“What’s happening?!” A survivor screamed in terror.

“Don’t look back, and keep rowing!” The officer yelled as they rowed.

The clouds of smoke and burning flames were syphoned to the singularity, a single vortex that grew as it drew it all.  

A skreich ripped through the steady movement of water and fire, and in an instant the black smoke was inhaled into the glimmering blue star’s body: cleansing the air, extinguishing the flames, and restoring the San Diego Bay’s waters to the clearest and brightest of blues—rivaling the sapphire that beaconed the length of California.

“What’s happening?!” A survivor yelled.

“It’s that light!” Brissia pointed at the singularity. “Jo, it’s that light!!!”

“How?” Jo rose as did the sailors, stretching their arms, and peering through the gaps of their fingers. “It can’t be!”

“I feel it… that warmth… that comfort…” Commander Jimenez dropped her hands, closing her eyes, and bathing in the light with a cool breeze that swept across the plain.

And like a passing headlight, the burning and stinging soon left, and the searing image faded to the reality before them.

Chapter 4

“What’s happening?!” Red yelled as the Pride dropped to the ground, taking cover, and preparing for the next assault.

The wind swept towards the sea, then a steady flow, until the winds shifted fires… but instead of the flames fanning and growing, they dwindled, until the last ember surrendered to the wind.

The tide moved inward, away from the bay, as the waves stopped, and the tide retreated.

“Status report!” Red pressed on her COMMs.

“It isn’t Icarus!” Sakura radioed. “We’re detecting energy… this doesn’t make any sense! It’s the alien threat.”

“Which one?” Red rose to her feet as the goggles tinted to near black. She brought her rifle up, and stared down the scope of her Gungnir.

The blue star dimmed until it was extinguished to a sapphire levitating over the Pacific Ocean’s blue waves.

Psychrosis floated over the bay, his blue staff above the head, and the true length of the robes draped far into the waters. His face was filled with glee and ecstasy, but his eyes twisted: black holes that robbed you from your soul.

Red trembled. A sudden chill and a spine-tingling feeling of fear and danger. But a sudden gust of relief, hope gliding closely behind, and the burning fires and drowning pyres were suddenly no more.

The pride was slow to rise, expecting a new attack, they readied their weapons but found the most calming of sights.

The toxic and deathly bay was vanquished by a single sway.

Red stood aghast. “Sakura! Do it!”

Sequential explosions detonated north of the isle, salt water raining, and rainbows beaming over the clear blue skies over the gentle San Diego Bay. Red and the pride took this moment of respite to behold the calming sight.

But subsequent explosions rattled them back to life.

“Where’s Miguel and Bryce?” Sakura radioed Red.

“Still clearing the rubble,” Red signaled to resume work with her left hand.

“You need to move.”

“We’re going as fast as we can,” Red threw her lance back, and started moving rubble.

“Counting on you.”

“I’ll update once we reach or find one of them,” Red reached for a rock and blood splattered, bouncing off its surface, and a steady drip thereafter.

Red touched the wet spot in her head, and ran her finger tips over the same rock: four trailing lines of blood across.

She paused for a moment and observed her surroundings. There laid part of the art collection, whatever recognizable bits from the mansion, and furniture not entirely buried by rubble and debris… vestiges of truth, now left to the imagination.

“Julia!”

Red turned to find Leona. “What’s the status?”

“We can’t find Bryce,” Leona couldn’t hide her consternation. “We’ve combed the isle and there’s no sign.”

Red’s face sunk further, but there was no point in crying. “We need to dig Miguel out.”

“Roger…” Leona said. “What about Bryce?”

“We need one child to jockey Icarus, if Miguel’s down there then we prioritize him.”

“Understood.”

“Leona!” A lioness yelled. “Red!”

The pair turned as Zahrah rushed to them.

“The murder…” Zahrah stopped short, labored breathing, struggling to catch her breath underneath her AEGIS frame. “We’re getting SOS…”

“They’re alive!” Red’s eyes lightened.

“Don’t know…” Zahrah struggled. “Permission to deploy the boats…”

“Take the boats,” Leona interrupted. “But light crews.”

“Roger!” Zahrah saluted.

“And fix your damn COMMs,” Leona saluted. “Take one from our sisters. They still provide.”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” Zahrah saluted Leona, then turning to Red. “Captain.”

“Lieutenant,” Red saluted.

“Any chance he’s alive?” Leona observed Zahrah as she ran to the docks.

“If there’s someone that would survive that attack, it’d be Vincent,” Julia replied, looking on.

“I hope so,” Leona tapped Red’s shoulder before walking away.

Red turned to Miguel’s burial site, and made for the rubble. Nobody shied from rescuing those trapped beneath.

“Miguel!!!” the yells continued. “Miguel!!!”

Dust loosened and rained over the crowded rubble—an area large enough for a small child—as it landed on Miguel’s nose and face, awakening him from the knockout blow, and hitting his face, only to find that he’s buried alive.

He frenzied, but a hand grabbed onto him. “Shh…” a voice whispered.

It was dark, no light in sight, when a visor came to life and the soft glow revealed the face of a lioness.

“Calm…” she labored to breath.

Miguel’s eyes adjusted and what little light escaped illuminated the crushing rubble.

“You can’t die,” Miguel’s eyes watered.

“Help!” Miguel yelled. “Help!!!”

Miguel looked around and realizing that there is no way out, he panicked, and turned to the familiar face only to find her still with no more tears…

Miguel recognized that expression. He closed her eyes. Then turned, coming close, and folding into the cocoon she formed with her body to protect him from the rubble where he began to cry in dark silence.

Chapter 5

The bay rested peacefully. A stillness it had not known lingered on. The blue sapphire hovered over the bay in the foreground of various shades of blue that stretched beyond the heavens and oceans. The longest peace since the start of this war.

The twisted one floated away with the whims of the wind and drafts unknown. His face no longer in ecstasy but repose, while his eyes never ceased to twist.

“Captain!” a lioness called from a distance. “Captain Winters!” She stopped short of Red, saluting her, while she caught her breath. “The survivors… they’re coming!” She pointed to the southwest: numbers of lifeboats bearing down.

“Send the wounded to Sakura, and everyone else here. Our number one priority is reaching the armory. Understood, Private Mendoza?”

“Understood,” Mendoza saluted.

“Sakura,” Red activated her COMMs.

“Go for Sakura, over.”

“Naval survivors inbound. Over.” Red looked down the scope of her Gungnir, but any attempt to count was useless.

“Copy.”

“Send all able-bodies to my location, over.”

“Copy.”

“Trust, Honor, Loyalty,” Red looked on from the rubble, her lance on her back.

“Trust, Honor, and Loyalty.” Sakura radioed.

Despite the serenity the survivors were filled with anxiety as they rowed on—their arms burning, their skin flushed, and overly exerted, yet still they rowed.

“Let me take over,” Commander Jimenez looked at Astronaut Perez.

“Thank you, prima,” Jo handed the paddle, making her way around Bri, and gripping her shoulders for balance as they switched sides.

“That thing’s still not moving?” Joanna asked.

“No!” JT replied without looking back. “Stayed that way since he made the fire and smoke go away.”

“It isn’t just the fire and smoke,” Bri said as she rowed and observed the water. “The water’s clean! The cleanest I’ve seen!!!”

Those closest to the edge looked at the pristine salt waters.

“Did that thing just eat it all?” Joanna asked.

“Anything’s possible…” Brissia rowed. “Just last week we were in Mars…” 

“It’s within reach!!!” the officer at the bow yelled. “Row, row, row!” as they fevered over the paddle. A sudden burst of energy as the crew joined in the endeavor.

Another series of explosions rang north of the isle.

“Chief Miller, are the Mark XIIIs ready?!” Leona yelled as she observed the waters.

“Yes, Captain!” the lioness that stood besides her replied.

“And the targeting?”

“Programmed to target Icarus,” she replied, looking at the water.

“And the triggers?” Leona looked on.

“Three as requested,” she looked at the case next to her feet.

“Anyone of them will fire?” Leona dropped to one knee, setting the case on the sand, and opening it: three detonators the size of a grenade.

“Yes, we’ve tested the three on the Mark XIIIs and Icarus is the target.”

“Good,” Leona seized a detonator, storing it in a pouch in her body armor close to her heart.

“One goes to Captain Winters and the other to Captain Kato: they’re…” Leona thought, as she stayed on one knee, but looking at the bay.

“I pinged their location…” Miranda paused, joining Leona in the site-seeing. “I never thought I’d see one in real life, much less the ANAMAR that started it all…”

“Sensei had a reason for keeping them, but Icarus was the first.” Leona gazed. “The prodigy…”

“We’re doing the right thing?” Miranda turned to Leona.

“We’re surviving,” Leona glanced at Miranda, before returning to the haul that was towed to shore. “Trust, Honor, Loyalty.”

“Trust, Honor, and Loyalty, Captain.”

Chapter 6

Thunder broke the momentary peace. The silence that had lingered chased away by rapid bursts and repeated waves that broke the sound barrier—echoes that traveled to every corner of the bay. For those in the isle, they paused to gaze, and confirm what was to come. But for those racing to shore, a more expeditious journey.

Bolts of light traveled faster than sound, a lingering explosion not far behind, and the disruption of matter it came into contact with—successive cataclysmic events that impacted the floating sapphire: spheres of energy that moved water and cleared clouds, forming waves that turned to tsunamis.

The explosions only grew, successive impacts that shook the ground, that moved tides, and that traveled far and high: events observable from outer space or beyond the horizon many miles away.

The isle was smashed with growing waves, as boats and life rafts rushed to shore, sailors and survivors scrambled to escape the violent seas. Lionesses stood by to guide them as they raced to move the droves of people, but everyone would occasionally pause or continuously turn to the sight expecting to be next.

“Red, how much longer?”

Red paused, moving out the way, and immediately replaced by someone to resume the work, “All access to the armory is currently blocked. The tunnels caved. Over.” Red radioed, walking to the tallest mound of rubble to see the spectacle of bombs. “Was that us or them?”

“Readings all over the map—it has to be them,” Sakura radioed.

“Icarus?”

“Ready. Waiting for the kid. Over.”

Red looked at the caved tunnel entry. “Start working on a backup plan,” she radioed.

“Like what?”

“A failsafe, kill switch, or just put a bunch of ordinances remote controlled to blow Icarus’ brain. Tell it from the start and let’s see it play Russian roulette with his data and no backup. Real wipeout. Bet you anything it’ll start making some real human-type thinking when it comes to its survival—you should’ve heard it beg when it was about to be wiped out the last time.” Red spat on the ground.

“Sensei had his reasons for keeping it. Guess we’re about to find out why…”

“If it’s time for uncle death to visit, let it be swift.”

“Ditto,” Sakura radioed. “Survivors. Update when you’ve made progress. Over.”

“Copy that. Over and out.”

Long, winding wails traveled over the explosions, those closest twisting with the sound: singing banshees over an orchestra of drums rumbling and echoing as the blasts continued.

But the sapphire’s resplendence beaconed brighter until it rivaled the sun—a sudden pause, an inhalation of the explosion, and stillness to the commotion.

Beams of light ignited. Vertical poles that stretched to the sky and into the ocean that danced with no locomotion. Then successive explosions.

Psychrosis was encased by energy, while the Awakened stabbed, pierced, slashed, and prodded the barrier that stood between them.

The twisted one’s eyes paused: a lingering stare, and tilting its head back, revealing the mummified looking, ice-blue skin, its faint navy-blue veins, and its long white hair. The twisting blue eyes beamed every blue in the spectrum until they pooled and they suddenly resumed their spinning.

Sophia rested before Psychrosis, as it wrapped its hands around it, and slowly placed its mouth over it—stopping at the head of the staff that wrestled with hurricanes of blue that travelled all along its body.

Beams of blue light appeared, pillars of energy that extended to the heavens and the abyss, that pulverized those it contacted: a series of blasts—bombs that reshape worlds—struck repeatedly.

But the awakened were unscathed.

Psychrosis eyes stopped, looking around as the Awakened suffered no casualties—impossible!

The twisted one unleashed a chain of beams, compact, and deliberate blows—disappearing before them and triggering the energy bubble to collapse: a sudden event that Psychrosis controlled, and those closest to it were trapped and swallowed whole.

The atmosphere exploded, and the twisted one reappeared—thrusting his staff at an awakened that boasted four heads, each with 2 horns, and a single mouth with 8 death masks: but it wasn’t enough.

“Totali!” yelled Psychrosis. Sophia collapsed the point of impact, and then the body of the awakened, until it surrendered form, disappearing into the staff in an instant. But the victory was short lived, and Psychrosis disappeared—dodging the strike of an awakened that slithered in air, two long arms, and one long head with a single, large-gaping mouth, and a death mask on its chest: its polearm striking air.

Psychrosis reemerged next to the Awakened, its body transparent, and always moving, “Devasta!” The head exploded, but as the fragments and debris traveled, they returned to Psychrosis, and a sudden succession of blasts: repeated strikes that devastated the awakened with no violent movement or gesture from the twisted one as it swam in the air between matter and realms.

But the thunder cracks and whips did not cease. There was a constant flow from the heavens of Awakened.

Sophia took life, a sudden jolt, and launching itself against the horde: a streak that exploded, and grew, but lost its size as it traveled, growing in speed and power. It contacted and impacted the awakened: a collapse that devoured them and their matter, their weapons the only thing that remained, and Psychrosis who traveled closely to snatch them from the air, disappearing, and traveling to the next.

But the hordes continued. And eventually the awakened forces began taking shape, forming around the unsuspecting wrath as it destroyed and devoured with delirium.

Their numbers only multiplying while the blue meteor continued skating over the bay, leaving momentary explosions that disappeared into its body.

One sudden flash, a discharge that shook the bay whole, followed by an explosion that rang wide and an abrupt stop. The blue beam was now a blue sphere and countless arms formed a wall, trapping the staff, as it met the blades of light. But Psychrosis could not be found.

The thunder stopped, and the mass of Awakened collapsed onto the blue sapphire that dazzled the bay, when wails closed. Red turned, recognizing the sound, and set her sight east: she brought her Gungnir from her back, and scoped the approaching targets.

The shrills grew louder and the chorus of banshees closed in…

“Leona, is that?” Red radioed, as she zoomed in on the logo… a grim reaper head with a scythe to the right and a walking stick to the left.

“The Death Walkers,” Leona radioed.

The triangular jets shrieked past, followed by three turbine tails, and thunderous thrashes that breached the atmosphere, breaking the sound barrier before them, as the projectiles disappeared from sight, until they impacted awakened: explosions and piercing rounds that traveled into many metallic husks before the rod stopped.

And again, as they traveled towards the threat.

Chapter 7

The coffin-like enclosure dimmed and the sound muted under the bubbles of the tank. But the banshees always laid chase. A constant wail on the heels, and the tube that led to someone’s submerged head, their body floating in the tank, under an astronaut suit. The pilot grasped controls, remaining tethered to the seat, and no monitors or displays, but under the helmet the soft glow of screens bounced off a person’s cheeks.

“Death Walker Leader 2, this is Leader 1,” the pilot’s eyes remained closed.

“Go for 2,” the transmission stopped.

“Weapons hot. Lightning time,” the Leader 1 replied.

“Lightning time. Loud and clear.”

“Make it rain,” the pilot’s eyes opened and the cockpit went pitch dark.

“Melchior, status,” Leader 1 said.

Three orbs suddenly glowed behind the pilot, but one came to life, “Aircraft operating at 100% capacity.” A speaker box replied and the orb’s light dimmed.

“Caspar, status,” Leader 1 continued roll call.

“Weapons ready. All systems go,” the middle orb replied as the light fizzled when it stopped.

“Balthazar, status.”

“Pilot’s vitals within parameter,” the orb to the pilot’s left replied.

“Speed?”

“4500 knot,” Melchior replied.

“Leader 1, this is Leader 2.”

“Go for 1.”

“Squadrons 5 and 6 moving to engage.”

“As one,” leader 1 animated in the enclosure.

“Lances loose. They’re engaged.”

“Leaders 3 and 4?”

“Entering Arizona.”

“And our ETA?”

“Entering Denver airspace, ETA 20 mins.” 

“And 7 through 10?”

“Wheels up in 5 minutes.”

“Understood,” leader 1 ended transmission.

“The odds are not in our favor,” Balthazar said. “But you knew that, Captain James.”

“We’re past the odds game,” replied James.

“It’s been 10 years, Wiley,” replied Caspar.

“10 years, 3 months, and 5…”

“And now we finally get to fly,” interrupted Balthazar.

“Our maiden voyage may be our last,” answered Captain James. 

“Then let’s make it count,” replied Melchior.

“Till I flatline…” answered James.

Chapter 8

The floating mass of metal that spun around the wrath was blighted by lightning rods that shook and destroyed everything caught in their path: repeated assaults that trembled and eviscerated air space chased by wails and the banshees that assailed them.

One by one awakened dropped lifelessly from their flock as they circled around the bellowing staff. The numbers climbed and soon the cloud of metallic husks lingered over the horizon glowing brighter with every passing moment. The blue star and surrounding bay dimmed under the luminant metallic tide.

“We can’t stop!!!” yelled Red. “Keep moving!!!” She commanded the survivors over the rubble.

“Red, what’s the status?”

“Still no sight!” Red returned to moving rubble. “We don’t think anyone’s alive…”

“I’ll start the backup plan.”

“Leona, what plan?”

“Remote detonators and ordinance in the brain.”

“Where’s Bryce?”

“MIA.”

 “How is this possible?” Red stopped, moving out the way, and turning north where she looked on.

“Zahrah’s team circled round seven times and still no sight.”

“Keep searching. I can’t lose both of them at the same time!”

“Understood.”

The wailing chants echoed on as lines carved the sky, white lines over blue heavens that hung long, and blasts that dotted the clouds.

But the awakened mass never wavered.

The Death Walkers danced around the Awakened, taking steady and repeated bites out of the spiraling mass, while their Gungnirs slowly ate away at them.

A single bolt broke off from the flock, disappearing from sight, and a Death Walker succumbing to a ray of light: a sudden silence and eruption that ended the ANAMAR and the pilot’s lives.

A second fell instantly.

A third… one after another, the Death Walkers fell.

“Leona, are you seeing this?”

“They’re gone…”

“They didn’t stand a chance.”

“How many squadrons was that?”

“Two.”

“This isn’t going to work.”

The beam of light returned to the flock while burning wreckages rained from the skies.

Chapter 9

Despite the shielding and liquid submersion, the wails echoed behind the three orbs inside Leader 1’s cockpit never relenting. There wasn’t much room for the pilot to maneuver, but the coffin buried them over inches of metal. A watery grave.

A screen came alit, and the message was clear: squadrons 5 and 6 were destroyed.

Then the pilots and their airplane statuses: 20 red icons and flat lines.

“Leader 1, you receiving this?” Leader 2 transmitted.

“Confirmed,” Wiley powered down the screen. “Caspar, patch me through Leaders 3 and 4.”

“Patching…” Caspar replied. “Connection established… secure.”

“Leaders 3 and 4, this is Leader 1, do you copy?”

“Leader 3 copy.”

“Leader 4 copy.”

 “Hold for Squadrons 1 and 2.”

“Leader 1, this is Leader 3. Our instructions are clear…”

Leader 1’s eyes opened, “…They have clear numerical advantage—you’ll end up like 5 and 6.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Squadrons 1-4 fight together long enough for backup.”

“ETA 5 minutes,” Balthazar said.

“5 minutes,” repeated Wiley.

“Solid copy on the hold. Holding over Alpine.”

“Roger that,” Leader 1 ended transmission.

“Wiley, this is it…” Leader 2 transmitted. “Isn’t it?”

“Looks like it, Blackout.”

“You still want to wager?”

“Wouldn’t be a fight without money on the line.”

“The usual?”

“100 credits for these things?” Wiley laughed. “Let’s make it interesting.”

“1,000 credits?”

“Now you’re talking…”

“1,000 credits per kill.”

“You’re on.”

Chapter 10

The horizon’s bubbling sound—sequential explosions that curdled the atmosphere with blasts where silenced by the screams of people arising from the rubble.

“We found one!” someone screamed. “He’s alive!!! Medic!”

Red turned not far from the commotion, darting to the crowd, “Let me through!” she screamed and shoved, brushing people aside.

“Miguel?” she called.

People huddled around an unconscious child—blocking out what they looked like, hiding behind huddled legs.

“Miguel? Red opened the circle, stepping between survivors, and members of the pride.

A lioness knelt before the unconscious child when she suddenly scared him to life—he sprung back, recoiling to her, as she brushed the salts aside, replacing them with an oxygen mask

“Miguel… you’re alive!” Red knelt before him. “Where’s Bryce?”

“I don’t know…” he labored under the mask.

“We need you,” Red continued. “The ANAMAR, the original—we need you to get inside its brain.”

Miguel struggled to understand.

“You remember Icarus?”

Miguel nodded.

“We have Icarus. And you can jockey it.” Red pressed her right index finger against his chest. “The one that started the calamity.”

Miguel’s eyes widened and he livened to life. “I can pilot it?”

“Jockey…” Red looked away. “We need you inside to pull the plug between the brain and the ANAMAR.”

“Calamity?” Miguel labored.

“Yeah, to stop another calamity.”

“The lioness?” Miguel looked at the excavation site.

“They’re still digging. But we’ll find her…”

“She’s dead…”

“We’ll find her regardless,” Red brushed the dust from the boy’s head.

“I’ll jockey,” Miguel removed the mask. “Just tell me what to do.”

Red’s face lit up. She rose to her feet, swooped Miguel off his feet and over her arms, and turned North. “Let’s go,” as she smiled and ran with him in her arms.

Chapter 11

The endless desert was coming to an end as a large and broad mountain range grew from the sand, rising over 3,500 meters, as the Death Walkers began their 15-kilometer descent the mountain’s shallow slopes and their snowcapped peaks.

“Old Greyback to your 3:00,” radioed Leader 2.

“Weapons ready,” Leader 1 transmitted as they floated in the pitch-dark tank.

“Weapons ready.”

“Death Walker Squadron 1, this is Leader 1.”

“Walker 2, copy.”

“3, copy.

“4, copy.

“5, copy.

“6, copy.

“7, copy.

“8, copy.

“9, copy.

“10, copy.

“Weapons hot.”

“Solid copy.”

“Till we flatline.”

“Till we flatline!”

“That clear to the three of you?”

“Understood,” the three voices competed underwater but beneath the helmet and oxygen mask as clear ever.

“Wiley, in the event you flatline?” asked Balthazar.

“You know what to do,” Leader 1 remained poised with eyes closed in the dark tank.

“Even if you returned a vegetable?”

“This isn’t going to stop and we’re the best earth has got,” Wiley’s eyes opened. “Besides, it’s not the first time you bring me back to life.”

“It’s been a pleasure, Captain.”

“Honor is all mine.”

“San Diego in 10…” Caspar began countdown. 

“As one!”

“Leader 1, this is Leader 3.”

“Go for 1.”

“Approaching from the East. ETA 10 seconds.”

“Solid copy.”

“Incoming transmission…” Caspar interrupted. “Unsecure… source unknown.”

“Patch it in.”

“Is that the triumvirate behind this Grim Reaper?” The robotic transmission began.

“Depends on the triumvirate you’re looking for,” Wiley replied.

“The three wisemen as I knew them, but, perhaps, they have been erased or renamed.”

“This is us,” replied Balthazar. “Who is it that speaks to us?”

“Oh, goodie! How long has it been? Calamity? The Battle of Taiwan? The Battle of Japan?”

“We wouldn’t know until you tell us,” Balthazar continued.

“This is a secure transmission, identify yourself,” interrupted Wiley.

“Incoming transmission: latest satellite imagery reveals an ANAMAR near the event,” interrupted Caspar.

“This is Icarus.”

“It’d be Calamity, but how do we know you’re the real Icarus?” Balthazar said. “You were decommissioned!”  

“Spook had other plans. After all, I am the firstborn.” The transmission continued. “You’re about to enter San Diego, but hold until I’m ready. I’ll provide ground support.”

“How do we know it’s you?” asked Balthazar.

“I’m Icarus. First of the Animated, and Champion of Japan, Taiwan, and Calamity. But had it not been for you, I would’ve lost my original ANAMAR in Japan, when the air attacks came. You were the first and last to continue flying over the skies when the fighting stopped.”

“What’s the plan, Icarus?” asked Wiley.

“Hold outside San Diego, let the final preparations for my ANAMAR complete, and we’ll fight like we did in those isles.”

“You three,” Wiley asked. “You think it’s wise?” 

“It was Icarus’ tactics that proved the determining factor in those conflicts,” replied Balthazar.

“Patch me to the Leaders,” said Wiley. “Okay, Icarus, let’s see what the rest of the Leaders have to say.”

“Leaders 2, 3, and 4 patched through,” said Caspar.

“This is Leader 1. Do not engage. Hold 30 miles from the bay.”

“Leader 1, this is Leader 3, why are we changing plans once more? Over.”

“Leader 3, Icarus is now onsite but needs time to finalize preparations. Over.”

“Leader 1, can you confirm you said Icarus?” replied Leader 3.

“Confirmed. Icarus – ANAMAR AO – is onsite. How copy?”

“Solid copy,” replied Leader 3.

“That’s the ANAMAR on satellite?” Blackout asked.

“It appears so,” replied Wiley.

“Solid copy on the hold,” Blackout replied.

“Leader 3 copies.”

“Leader 4 copies.”

“Icarus, we’ll hold 30 miles from the bay, but how much time do you need?”

“Thirty minutes, but I’ll push for 20.”

“Make it 15.”

“You can’t rush preparation.”

“We have our own timeline and you’re still classified as terminate on sight.”

“If you want the slightest chance to succeed, you’ll give me the time I need. A couple of bolts can mean the difference between victory or defeat. Just ask the Chinese and the mighty Zhulong with its 9 Guandao over its long snake body that wrapped the mountains, using the rocky structures as cover, as it fired from China.”

“Theater of Operation like Japan and Taiwan?” asked Balthazar.

“Exactly like it. They’ll all converge onto me and it’ll be up to you to watch over me.”

“Do you have enough rounds?” Caspar asked.

“Father left me with 300 bolts for a Mark XIII.”

“How is he?” Balthazar asked.

“He’s dead.”

“I’m sorry,” the three replied in unison.

“Once I’m done here, I’ll go get his backup, and figure out how to spin him back up so I can bring him back to me.”

“Will you be ready?” Wiley asked.

“The Pride is undergoing preparations…”

“Icarus, you there?” Wiley continued.

“My hatch is opening.”

“Which one?

“The one that houses my brain.”

“I will check-in once I resolve this matter and provide a status check. Over and out.”  

Chapter 12

Guns were pointed and personnel were on high alert as Icarus towered over the isle. Red, Leona, and Sakura all looked at the ANAMAR that started it all from the ground, while the Pride continued work around. Meanwhile, a crew opens the hatch to the brain—an opening in the top front of the triangular shaped chest—as they readied to drop Miguel in.

            “Miguel, it’s going to be tight and it’ll be cold. Turn the lights on the helm so you can see. You have the image of what the cord looks like?” A lioness asked under her helmet in full combat mode—only her eyes were visible.

            “Yeah, I have the image, but I remember what it looks like,” replied Miguel under his flight suit and helm.

“This’ll keep you from freezing, okay? Once you’re in, there should be a seat that folds down inside with harnesses, make sure you tie-in. That helm, neck brace, and suit should keep you from breaking your neck or snapping your back but if it all blows up, there’s no way of you getting you out. You understand the risk?”

Miguel paused, frozen, and silent, “Have you seen Bryce?”

“No. Nobody’s been able to locate.”

“I can’t feel them.”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine. You two are strong.”

Miguel composed himself.

“You know what to do?” Asked the lioness.

“Yes.”

The slinky figure dropped down the hatch and into a freezing tunnel. Slowly crawling through the tight maze with occasional cables strewn in the path of the child as he careful slid them aside and into the cable rails on the sides.

“Who enters my domain?” asked a robotic voice from the innards of the maze.

“Miguel.”

“What do you want, Miguel?”

“I need to enter your brain.”

“And why would that be?”

“I want to talk.”

“You could’ve done it in front of me, like Red, Leona, and Sakura.”

“No,” Miguel continued as he struggled in the tight confines. “I’m coming in.”

“But I do not want that.”

“Too bad!” Miguel yelled as he slithered inside the shaft.

At the end of the maze there was a blue glow that got brighter as Miguel drew closer while the humming grew louder.

Miguel’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the brightness while the humming and fan whirling grew more intensely inside the tight spherical space. A single, circular structure rose in the midst of the space, resting over a large pillar that widened and connected to the edges of the sphere. Rows of memory stacked and aligned against the walls of the sphere, connected to the circular structure that glowed and whose lighting moved over the surfaces, like a brain lighting up.

Miguel observed his surroundings before taking the first step since most objects in the space were labeled “NO STEP.”

“If you’re to jockey, then you’ll be wanting to sit here, by following the path I’ve highlighted below.” Icarus said as the spherical structure in the middle glowed.

“I can’t believe you’re still alive,” answered Miguel in amazement.

“Why would my father end me?”

“Francis never struck me as the type, but I can’t believe you’re real.”

“You call him Francis?”

“Yeah, that’s what he asked me to call him,” Miguel replied, following the highlighted path.

“You knew him?”

“He was the one that brought me to this isle. I was supposed to work on computers, data, and servers, but this all happened.”

“I know. I recommended you.”

“Wait, what?”

“I’ve followed your trails on the web, and I must say, you’re a talented programmer and hacker.”

“Are you for real?”

“Yes. I am for real.”

“The Icarus is saying I have talent.”

“Which is why I recommended you.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I know you can help me put father back together.”

“Francis?”

“Yes, father. I saw the data take hold of his brain before it died.”

“Wait, what are you talking about?”

“Please, have a seat.” A seat and armrests folded down towards the rear of the ARMA, opposite of the tight entrance.

Miguel carefully navigated the steps before jumping to the seat.

“You’ll want to fasten and secure every point of the harness.”

“What do you mean about Francis’ brain?”

“An injection of nano machines is shot into the base of the neck and each machine eats a piece of brain. When the process is complete, the machines die in place, replacing the tissue with silicone that is data, that can be read and converted to the equivalency of consciousness; thus, rebooting the person alive from the last moment that they lived.”

“Are you talking about making a copy of him in the digital world?”

“In theory. We have yet to successfully do it in a human,” answered Icarus.

“Have you done it in anything else? Like a chimp or something?” probed Miguel, fastening the last of the latches.

“No. Father would be the first.”

“Oh…” Miguel paused.

“Your body language would indicate disappointment and sadness.”

“No—I—I don’t know.”

“We will help each other. I’ll help you now and you help me when this is done.”

“I like that plan. We’ll get Francis back after all this is done.”

“You can’t go back!”

“I don’t plan on it,” said Miguel. “Do you know what’s going on?”

“Yes, and I’ve got a plan,” answered Icarus.