Chapter 5 - Sunset

Chapter Five: Sunset


“Ugh! I can't believe her! I give her ample opportunity, and she just blows you off!?” Homura – as one could imagine – was none too pleased that I had returned without the Black Lotus. “That kid does nothing but... piss me off! It's a wonder mother put up with her as long as she did!” As she ranted, I kept to my seat, watching her flail about in frustration.

“I'm sorry.” I nodded to her. “I did try to pull her in.”

“No, Tachyon... I'm not blaming you. Hikiri's always been a... frustrating girl. She never does what people tell her to, just... does her own thing.”

“I think that may have something to do with her being a Y-Bred.”

“It shouldn't!” Homura answered back. “Mother loved her – I love her, even if she's a Y-Bred! I've never treated her any different then anyone else, I don't understand why she won't... Ugh!” Her frustrations manifested in a sharp, quick growl of anger. “...I'll keep trying.” She recovered, regaining her sensibilities. “You've preformed well, all things considered. On an unrelated note, I'd ask you to check in on Patricia in Medical. The medical teams all pretty much agree what caused her 'episode' was a breakdown of the Rastinobinitrate in her body. Apparently her body is no longer producing many endorphins; and it's the lack of those endorphins that cause the Rastinobinitrate to break down.”

“Which explains the 'cure' of sorts.” I nodded, Homura echoing the motion.

“Indeed. I won't pretend I like it... but I suppose if it's just a matter of that, it should be a small price to pay... I have one last assignment for you today before I give you the rest of the day off... One of the Medical Staff suggested something, and I'd like for you to test the validity of it.” I nodded.

“What is it?”

“There's been a small Y incursion in the rural subdivision – two Y reported on sight, drones both. I want you to take Patricia and have her take care of it.” I blinked.

“Excuse me for the outburst but... Patricia's not a combat unit. Hell, she scored a fuckin' eighteen on her DO exam. Sending her into combat would be suicide for her.” All incoming personnel have to participate in something referred to as a Duty Orientation Exam; or DO Exam. The DO Exam is designed to test one's combat prowess against the Y. It measures reflexes, accuracy and a battery of other statistics. The minimum required score for combat units is sixty eight out of a maximum of one hundred. There are only two soldiers on the entire base that have scored a perfect on the DO Exam – one of them being myself – and the other is a Command-Class soldier in another unit; goes by the name Omega. Omega's terrifying to watch – an absolute beast with a sniper rifle – and the single most level-headed soldier I've ever seen. Most combat units score in the seventy five to eighty five range with the occasional one scoring low to mid nineties. If Patricia was to be sent into combat with an eighteen? Well... I don't believe in handing the Y any victory.

“Normally, I'd agree... but I had her retake the DO exam while you were gone...” I blinked.

“...okay...?”

“Seventy eight.” I blinked again, slower this time, letting those words process.

“Seventy eight?” Homura nodded. “She... scored a seventy eight?”

“I didn't believe it either... but her results were clean and clear.” She picked up a piece of paper from her desk and handed it to me. “Here, see for yourself.” The paper she handed me was the results of a DO Exam. “And if you need one to compare it to-” She picked up another piece of paper and handed me that as well. The second piece was the same as the first, but an older report. The second report was the DO Exam results of one Patricia Brightstone, dated three years ago when she joined... and the first was the DO Exam results of Patricia Brightstone, dated only an hour ago. If I wasn't staring at them in real-time, I wouldn't have believed it. The new test showed a marked improvement over her initial attempt. Increased stamina, increased reaction times, her accuracy had quadrupled; not to mention her psyche evaluation was much higher then before, as well.

“If this is standard, and not some... freak of the process... we may very well have a way to combat the Y on their own terms... imagine being able to turn the average citizen into a Y slaughtering machine? Imagine what that would do for moral? For safety of the city?” Eighteen on the DO Exam was lower then what is considered 'human average'; the average usually around thirty or forty percent. If she showed such a massive improvement... Homura wasn't bullshitting. If this was something we could expect with regularity in turning people into these 'artificial Y-Breds' as Patricia called them... we'd have the Y on the ropes in weeks.

“...alright...” I found myself saying, putting the DO results back on her desk. “I'll... have her suited up and fielded in a few moments.” Homura nodded.

“Excellent. I want you to be an observer in all this, and only step in if it looks like she'll be in danger.” I took to my feet and stretched, nodding.

“I will. I'll have a full report when we return.” Homura nodded and reclaimed her own seat, as I marched myself down to the situation room. The Situation Room was usually where commanders would gather their soldiers for mission briefings, but as we've had no large-scale operations in the last few months, most briefings are given en route to the mission location, and they usually consist of 'kill non-humans on sight'. Adjacent to the Situation Room was a locker room where most soldiers stored their combat gear – armor, a spare uniform and their weapon – for combat deployments. When I arrived, I would find Patricia already dressed for combat, forsaking her lab coat for the blue uniform, white gloves and boots that every other soldier on base wore.

“Hello, Tachyon!” She smiled, waving to me. “So, I guess you're my babysitter today?” I nodded to her.

“They've told you what to expect?”

“They told me they're fielding me as a combat unit... and I don't honestly know how I feel about that.”

“I'll be there to watch your back.” I responded, my words banishing some of the darkness behind her eyes.

“That's good but... I still don't know why they're doing this... are they desperate or...” Don't tell me they didn't tell her...

“They... had you redo the DO Exam, remember?”

“Yes, of course! But I did so terribly on it the first time!”

“And you smoked it the second time.” She blinked, clearly in disbelief.

“I... what?”

“You scored a seventy eight on it the second time.” She looked taken back.

“No... no, that can't be right...” I shook my head to her words.

“I saw the results. Seventy eight.” She looked down at her gloved hands, flexing her fingers.

“...maybe it's no illusion...?” She muttered.

“What?”

“N-no... no, nothing, forget it.” I nodded, obliging.

“Reports indicate only two Y on sight; should only be drones, so we'll see what kind of resistance they put up.

Homura had a driver for us – full regalia – deliver us via van to the destination. Unlike my previous deployments, there was no silence on this. With flashing lights, a familiar blue hue and our logo emblazoned on the side of the van, there wasn't' a chance in hell people wouldn't know who we were and why we were there. Cars moved out of the way for us as we sped along to our destination. Standard Operating Procedures would have us get the initial situation report from the officers on station, and then we'd head in to clear the premise.

“Do me a favor?” I muttered to Patricia, my gaze turned out the front of the van to watch. “If you get caught by any paparazzi, don't answer any questions. They're vultures when they smell a story and...” I looked at her, giving her a visible once-over in the form of a deliberate up-and-down motion of my head. “...well, you look like a story.”

“Of course.” She nodded. “The last thing we need is a repeat of the Marie Incident.” Yeah... remember that Commander I keep talking about? The hot-shot one from the main branch? Crazy son of a bitch who invented the most effective strategy we have against the Y? Well... poor bastard's had his own share of trouble. Apparently one of his soldiers thought she'd help public opinion by agreeing to be interviewed by the news. I don't know the whole story, but apparently they butchered her interview on the cutting room floor, and turned the whole thing into a fiasco that boiled down to 'I like shooting things'. Poor girl was publicly ridiculed by the city to the point where she took her own life in the most public of fashions; shooting herself in the middle of the park in broad daylight.

Most commanders would be furious about this... most would have had some carefully constructed response to give the public that would convey the truth... well... 'most commanders' don't fit into what this crazy son of a bitch did. He stormed the studio – full uniform, waving a gun around like a maniac – and demanded that if the whole interview isn't played, he'd start shooting. And he did. Shot one of the newscasters in the leg on camera. Of course, this was all it took for them to agree. Like I said, I only heard this story through rumors, but everything I've seen and heard back it up. I don't know how he still has a job... It became proceedure to not talk to the press... for obvious reasons.

And when we arrived on-sight my fears would be justified; as a long with the battery of police vehicles on sight, there were almost an equal number of news vans just waiting for a story. Our driver – one of the Commanders, fuck if I remember her name – pulled along side the police blockade, letting me talk to the police. A woman with short brown hair dressed in a police uniform walked up along side the van. Her badge read 'KAMIYAMA'. “Afternoon.” She nodded to us. “Pretty standard fare here.” She continued, motioning towards the building in question – a small, one-story domicile – and gave a sigh. “There's uh... no survivors, unfortunately. Initial reports seem to indicate they've been here for a few hours... no sign of cocoons yet, which has me worried.” She looked into the van. “Just two of you, then? That's strange... usually there would be more.”

“There's only a small handful, yes?” She nodded to this. “Then we should be fine. Please, keep the press away while we work.” The woman smiled.

“My dear, that's all we do when you lot show up.” She tipped her hat to me. “Give 'em hell.” Patricia and I collected our gear – which was pretty much just the shotgun she brought – and stepped out of the van. The moment boots hit concrete, I could hear the press shouting questions over the din of the police trying to keep them behind the line. Patricia stayed close as she watched the scene play out behind us.

“...is it always like that...?” She asked, turning back to face forward.

“Pretty much. Vultures, the lot of them.” Rearing back, I kicked the door open, the handle shattering with the impact. “Alright. I'm right behind you.” She nodded to me, pulling the shotgun up close to her chest and wading into the unknown. I followed close behind, Patricia's head flicking back over her shoulder a few times to confirm I was still there. I let her lead, following her as she searched each room of the medium-sized house. Her motions were surprisingly standard for someone who had never seen a combat exercise in their entire career. With just us on-site we had no overwatch from any of the Commanders, so she took things very cautiously, peeking around each corner before devoting herself to going around. One particular corner – opening into the kitchen, by the looks of things – had her pull her head around the corner and grumble something to herself.

“Christ...” She muttered. “...god-damn blood bath in there...” She shook her head, dislodging the thought before nodding to herself. “I'm good. One target, looks to be a drone.” Twirling from behind cover, she leveled her shotgun and fired; the belch of burning-hot tungsten flechettes ripping thorugh the soft flesh of the drone on the other side. Pumping her weapon, the pair of us stepped around the corner to confirm her kill. As she said, it was indeed a blood-bath; the tile floors, walls and ceilings painted in broad, erratic strokes. Several appliances appeared damaged and there were several signs of struggle – a knife discarded to the ground and several plates shattered upon the floor. The carcass of the drone Patricia killed had been ripped apart by the powerful blast; ribbons of flesh lying in state as it's beast-like torso was torn in half.

-

We cleared the house room by room, the signs of death evident in nearly every entered room. I could tell that the farther we went into the once-nice home, Patricia's determination only grew. Her disgust at the Y turned into hatred... it was common amongst soldiers. As we reached the last room – a bedroom by it's look – I hammered home exactly why it is we do what we do. A young woman – probably barely eighteen – laid naked upon what was once her bed, her face twisted into a look of shock and terror; the gaping hole in her chest causality. Her arms had legs had been gnawed on by some small creature, but the shattered ribs and fountain of gore on the ceiling was the true cause of death.

“...Jesus...” Patricia growled. “...you know, they showed us the videos when we joined. No one here is ignorant to the threat of the Y but... until today it's always just been...”

“Distant?” I asked, causing her to nod. “Of course. This though... this is the reality. The sick, disgusting truth behind why we fight. She had a life ahead of her. Probably a doctor or something like that... and we'll never know.” I shook my head. “C'mon. Our job is done here.” As we were a few steps out the door, I heard something – something small and barely audible. It wasn't a sound usually associated with the Y... it was something... human. I tapped Patricia's shoulder. “Wait downstairs for a second.” She nodded as I turned back towards the room. Patricia closed the door behind her. I don't know if she heard it as well, but I took a knee in the center of the room, trying to discern where the sound had come from. There were so few hiding places, it narrowed the choices down. I fixated my gaze on the closet – the doors ajar just enough for someone to peek out. “You don't have to hide anymore. We're here to help.” Movement from the closet, just as I thought. Almost as if she knew I had discovered her, the sounds clarified, becoming notable sobbing, the closet doors slowly opening as a young girl – probably eight or nine, very young – crawled out, tears streaming down her face. I smiled to her best I could. “Hello.” She got to her feet and charged towards me, throwing herself into my arms, her tears coming hot and fast as she sobbed openly. “Hey... hey, it's okay now... those bad monsters didn't get you, did they?” I felt her shake her head into my shoulder. “That's good... c'mon... let's get out of here, okay? Get you somewhere safe.”

“They... they... sister...”

“Sssh, sssh sh...” I rubbed her back. “I know... I know, you don't have to tell me.” I picked her up in my arms, her grip never faultering from around my neck as I carted her downstairs. Patricia had a look of smug understanding as we met eyes, the woman nodding approvingly to me. “We'll get her checked out once we get back.” I spoke in a low tone. “I don't think they got to her but-”

“-better safe then sorry.” She finished for me.

I sent Patricia out first to open the van doors for me and the girl. Newscaster presence had dropped by no small percent by the time we had finished, the police doing their job phenominally. Once Patricia had the door open for me, I made haste to bring the survivor to the van, buckling her in and telling her everything was going to be alright. She was still scared, of course... but she managed a smile to me.

-

The end of another week. I delivered my report to Homura when we returned, noting both the survivor, as well as Patricia's stellar performance. I was asked – in my unprofessional opinion – if we should consider these preformance enhancements as permanent, and all I could respond with was I would be uncertain for at least another two trials. Patricia's improvements were marked, I couldn't deny that... but I couldn't say that everyone would react the same. Patricia was looking over the survivor in medical and my initial thought proved true – she was, in fact unharmed by the Y. I, in the mean time, was granted some time off until such time as I was needed again. Retiring back to my room, I was met by the strangest of sights; Rikka just sitting on my bed like she owned the place.
“Heya!” She smiled broadly.

“Don't you 'heya' me. What are you doing in my room without my permission?” She laughed at my scowl.

“Oh, don't be like that, Tachyon. I thought we'd hit that part where we could drop in on one another randomly.” She paused, patting her knees arbitrarily. “We start re-training tomorrow.” I nodded to this.

“Yeah. Homura's been telling me.”

“Means we gotta sit in a classroom for a couple of hours... then it's off to the range.” She gave an exaggerated – but I feel no less real – groan at the thought. “I hate it.”

“I imagine.”

“Hey...” She twisted in place and laid down across the bed, her head in her palms as she looked at me. “D'you think I could ditch retraining and take you out on another date?”

“Your commander would rip my head off, then staple it back onto my neck so Homura could do the same.” She laughed at this, nodding as best she could.

“Yeah... yeah, you're right.” She smiled at me brightly. “You look tired.”

“I am. I would like to rest.” She gave a confirmatory grunt.

“I don't blame you. Have a rest, then.”

“...you're lying on my bed.” She gave a predatory smirk at this.

“You're right. What'cha gonna do about it?” She chuckled. “Way I figure it, you've only got one of two option, either lie down with me, or make me move. Which one are you-” I stepped over to her and took hold of her shoulders, pulling her gently out of the bed. “Awww, c'mon! No fair! You're not even gonna give the other option a thought?” Sitting her on a chair, I shook my head.

“Nope.” With her removed, I laid myself down on my back and stretched out, feeling the day melt into the sheets. She laughed, picked herself off the chair and practically threw herself on top of me, giggling like an idiot. “Hey-!” She put her arms under mine to lock herself down, hoping I'd be unable to pry her off. “...get off...” I squinted to her, the girl shaking her head.

“Nope.” She repeated my own words. “You're all warm.” She smiled and snuggled closer, causing me to push on her shoulders and pry her off me, rolling over and unceremoniously dumping her on the floor. “Ooff! Hahahaha! You're strong!” She got to her knees and knelt at my bedside. “C'mon, why you being a grumpy-guss?”

“I'm tired. And you should be resting for the exams tomorrow.”

“Boo!” She barked.

“What do you mean, 'boo'?”

“Boo! I don't wanna rest! I wanna snuggle with you!” I glared at her, the girl staring back at me like a happy puppy. If she had one, her tail would be wagging a mile a minute.

“...I'm not gonna get rid of you, am I?” She shook her head.

“Nope!” Growling, I moved over in bed.

“Fine! But no... funny business!” She cheered happily, climbing in bed and wrapping her arms around me, the pair of us lying on our sides.

“No promises.” She smirked to me. Her smile was kind and warm, her hand falling on my cheek, moving my hair out of the way. “...you've got very pretty features. So feminine.”

“If this is your idea of flattery, you should rethink.”

“What's wrong? Don't like the idea that... under that rough-and-tumble facade, that you might actually be attractive?”

“...let me know when you're done sucking my dick.” I growled, closing my eyes. She just laughed.

“Silly! ...but it's a tempting offer if...” Another laugh. “You rest... you're tired...”

I dozed off for what must have been most of the rest of the day. When I would wake, it would be with one of those 'slept through the day' headaches and a few more aches then I would have liked. Right.... I slept with my clothes on. Somehow, Rikka had migrated to the other side of the bed, her eyes closed sawing logs like crazy. Slowly climbing out of bed, I plodded my way over to the window to look out over the city. Drawing the curtain open, I was met with the sights of the city at night – street lamps below casting their florescent gaze over the streets, and some of the taller buildings lit up. Across from us – probably two or three blocks away – was the main building for the Company, their logo burning bright at the side of the building. Closing the curtain, my eyes turned to the clock on my bedside table. The red LED digits glared angrily at me as it displayed 2:42 AM. Ugh... I should go back to bed and try to sleep until morning but...

Brrrrrng. The sound of the phone on my bedside table ringing drew my attention to it. Snatching it up, I put it to my ear. “Hello?” I spoke in a low tone, hoping to not wake Rikka.

“Tachyon... sorry about the rude awakening... but there's a problem.” It was Homura on the other end.

“What's new?” I asked with a sarcastic uptone. “...and do you ever sleep?”

“Sometimes. CPD just called, there's been an incursion in their building.” I quirked an eyebrow.

“An incursion? At CPD?” That... that was strange. The Y stayed away from CPD because of all the guns... they may have just been normal humans, but a cop with a gun – with some determination – can be just as dangerous as any of our soldiers. “How many are we looking at?” She fell quite for a moment.

“We don't know.” She answered finally. “But judging by the call, it's a full-on attack.” I growled.

“Shit, and I guess most of our people have started re-training.”

“There are only two combat units currently waiting to start, and the Council doesn't want us to postpone it. Unfortunately... you're the only on-duty unit I can send. CPD has assured us that they're doing their best to hold the Y at bay, but they don't know how long they can last without backup. Backup I'm hoping you can provide.” I nodded.

“I'll head that way.” CPD wasn't too far from here... a handful of minutes walk and half that if I ran. Without waiting for Homura to answer, I hung up and started for the door.

“Mm...heading out?” Rikka mused, her head looking up from the bed.

“Yeah... there's been a call to CPD.”

“Police...? Shit.” She smiled at me. “Give 'em hell, Tachyon. I'll be here when you get back.” I nodded, silently hoping she wouldn't be... but the thought was nice.

It would be faster to walk, of all things. Taking the elevator to the ground floor, I tore out into the early morning air, taking a sharp left and breaking into a sprint towards the CPD building. The building itself was two blocks down the road, and with so few people on the streets at this time of night, it was a straightshot towards it. By the time I arrived, it was clear that this was no half-assed assault. The front glass window had been completely covered in a thick, resin-like substance the Y used for their hives. It was durable, damn-near bullet proof and aside from looking suspicious, it would prevent almost anyone from entering. The entire building was boarded up with this thick substance, barring egress or ingress. They had prepared. Bringing a fist to the glass, I shattered the man-made barrier, fist hitting resin with a dull thunk. Blow after blow I struck before chunks began to chip off the surface. Each piece of resin chipped off only served to empower my strikes. The more they wanted to keep me out, the more I wanted in.

Finally, a crushing blow sent shards of resin scattering inside like dust thrown to the wind, granting me a large enough entry point to squeeze in to. Before I had even squeezed into the made hole, I was already finding myself under attack from the Y – a group of smaller drones charging me before I was even half through. “Impatient little-!” I forced myself through the gap in time to retaliate against the monsters. Grappling the tentacled one and swigning it like a flail, I cleared the lobby in record time before ripping my weaponized friend in half, discarding it's bleeding carcass to the ground. The chairs scattered about the lobby was testament to what kind of state the place was in just before the attack. There was no blood on the walls – save for that caused by the Y I just killed – but there was definite signs of struggle. Upturned tables, bullet holes in walls and scattered magazines were but only the most noticiable signs. Behind the bullet-proof glass where the desk Sergeant usually sits was more signs of a scuffle – overturned filing cabinets used as makeshift barricades (that didn't function properly, mind) along with several spent shell casings littering the floor. The white phone inside the little office cubical started to ring – an intra-building phone used by those on different floors to communicate; much like our own system. Reaching in, I picked up the receiver and held it to my ear. “Hello?”

“You have no idea how glad I am to hear the voice of another person.” The man on the other side spoke. “I'm glad we managed to get through to you in time. Where's the rest of your squad?”

“It's just me.” I looked up to the small camera in the corner as it focused on me. Whomever this was was using the camera systems to watch over the building.

“What do you mean it's just you?! Do you have any idea how many Y are in the building?” I looked around at the signs of struggle.
“Judging by your lobby, a healthy number. Couple dozen, I'd wager.” I heard him grunt confirmingly over the phone.

“That's about the best guess I've heard. We don't know where they came from, they just... all piled in and hit us at once. One of my officers tells me they may have come in through the sewer system, but I don't know. One minute we're doing business as usual, and the next all fuckin' hell breaks loose. Some of my people are trapped on various floors of the building – floors four, eight, nine and twelve. If you can rescue some of them, we can try to push them back and out of the building. At least until more of your people arrive.” I didn't want to pop his bubble and tell him there would be no one else coming, so I kept my mouth shut. “Floor eight is our armory, and four is the overnight dorms. If you could clear those two floors first, we can start to push back.”

“How many people are in the building?”

“Including you and I? Three? Four dozen?”

“Right. I'll start getting your people out.”

“Thank you. Once you get my people, see about securing the armory. Give them a fighting chance.” I nodded, hanging the phone up and going to the stairs. Elevators would probably be brought offline during the invasion to prevent the Y from moving around freely. It wasn't confirmed, but reports from the main branch suggest they have the capacity to trace the memories of previous victims, allowing them the use of basic machinery. Again, unconfirmed.

Thundering up the stairs two at a time, I made a beeline for floor Four – labled as 'Domestics' – to rescue those trapped there. Coming to the door, I had expected to find it barricaded, but instead I found the door wide open, claw marks in the walls and floors evidence that I was not the first to walk through this door today. I had expected to find several Y pinning some of the officers and probably attacking many of the male officers... but what I found was distrubing in another fashion.

Nothing. I had arrived to find nothing on the entire floor. Some of the beds had been distrubed – sheets cast to the floor and pillows thrown to ruin – hard signs of a struggle, but lack of corpses or victims was what caught me as interesting first. This... was not like the Y. They didn't take prisoners, they have no use for them. Reaching up, I pressed a finger to the earpiece to call Homura. “Homura.” I spoke frankly.

“Go ahead, Tachyon.” She answered, her voice heavy with fatigue.

“I've got something strange here. I'm on the fourth floor of the CPD building – a glorified dorm building for the police... but there's no one here. Signs of struggle, but no blood, no bodies... human or Y.” She went silent on the other end. “Homura?”

“I'm here... I heard you... you're certain? Not a single body?”

“None. It just looks like-”

“Hold on a moment, Tachyon... there's a call from reception.” I held on. If reception was calling at this time of the morning, it wasn't for anyone's cordial visit. I paused for only a moment before Homura's voice came back, filled with panic. “Tachyon, abort mission! Return to base, NOW, that's an order!”

“Homura? What's going on?”

“It's the Y! They're in the building en masse!” That was all I had to hear. Killing the communication, I turned and started back for the exit. Sorry... but looks like you take back-burner, Police Chief.

