Stormfall - Chapter 7

AN: I’ve got a temporary cover. It’ll definitely change at some point, but for now it’s better than nothing. I haven’t had much spare time to work on it.

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Someone kicked my leg. I froze to keep myself from lashing out and kept my eyes closed. I cracked an eye open. “What.”

“Fleff’s awake.” Morose looked down on me curled up beneath the arcade cabinet. Her helmet was off, giving me my first true look at someone from Pike-Two. 

As I expected, she had a hard face, though her skin had a slight red hue to it. Potentially Emberline? Or she could’ve just been flushed. Variant bloodlines were so diluted it was almost impossible to tell anymore. Evident traits were quite rare.

Morose scowled and crossed her arms. “We had sleeping bags, you know? Couldn’t have been comfortable sleeping like that.”

”Wasn’t.” I pulled off my helmet just long enough to rub the sleep out of my eyes, and then let it reseal once more. This planet’s air was breathable, but there was a certain safety in the filtration of our helmets. “I’ve slept worse.”

”Just because you’ve had worse in the past, doesn’t mean you need to keep having it bad.” Morose paused. She looked like she wanted to say more, and then shook her head. “Fleff’s up. Figured you should know.”

Right… ”I’ll be there in a minute.”

”Don’t take your time.” She glanced back down at me one more time and then walked off elsewhere in the arcade.

I stretched and slowly sat up. The murmur of low voices around the arcade poured into my ears. Most of the group was scattered asleep on whatever flat surfaces they could find. One of Iron-Four’s riflemen was even slumped up against an old claw machine.

I shook my head and checked on my Core. After my nap, the white flame was back up to about ninety percent strength. The black, magma-lined stone of Black Dog was fully repaired and ready to go once more. The wisp would be ready when I needed to call on him next.

My eyes drifted to the other stone floating gently in the darkness. The white one that was marked with golden circuits. The circuits, unlike the last time I checked, pulsed with faint traces of light. The rest of my Wispflame wrapped around it, gently warming the stone up. I watched it for a moment longer before mentally reaching for Black Dog.

The hound himself reappeared with whoosh of heat, and stepped forth from a curl of white flame like a kind returning to his kingdom. His injured side was fully healed. “‘Bout time.”

”I just woke up,” I muttered and pushed myself off the floor. “It’s way too early for your sass.”

”My sass is the only thing that gets through that thick skull of yours.” He coldly huffed and flicked around, looking away from me. His tail smacked the side of my wrist like he was done with me. “Besides, you get mopey if I don’t talk to you.”

”Whatever.” I rubbed at my exposed arms. The ground had been a little drafty, and my limbs felt icy to the touch. “Fleff’s up.”

Black Dog didn’t answer me aloud, though he did dip his head in acknowledgement. I ignored the ungrateful mutt and gathered my stuff back up. Rifle—check. Still had all my ammo. The pistol was in its holster. I reached back toward my waist. Knife—where’d that damn knife go now?

“Thigh,” Black Dog said without even looking back toward me.

I dropped a hand to my thigh and wrapped it around the hilt of my knife. Right, back onto my waist where I could keep an eye on it. What was I thinking by putting it on my thigh? It’d just be hard to draw if I needed it. I shook my head and moved the blade around.

”Go run a perimeter check.” I stretched out once more. “See if our friends are still sniffing around.”

The hound didn’t respond. He just vanished into the dark and headed toward the arcade doors. His tail caught me on the wrist lightly as he left, transferring just enough heat to push back my chill.

I found Fleff at the front of the arcade, looking out of one of the arcade’s barricaded windows. Bandages wrapped around his head. He twisted dials on his pack radio carefully and listened to the static feeding back through the hunk of metal. “Fleff—“

“Almost there.” The stocky radioman shot up a finger and leaned closer to the mesh speaker of the radio. One more adjustment of the dials, and the static became even louder. His tongue stuck out in concentration. “There it is.”

”You found the source of our interference?” I shuffled over and hopped up onto the dead shell of a pinball machine. My boots swung idly below me.

”Almost.” He turned off the radio and slung it back over his shoulder. “It’s definitely in the arcology. If I can get up a few more floors, I can triangulate it.”

”Are you in any condition to move?” I tapped the side of my head.

”Just a flesh wound.” He peeled off the bandage and revealed a nasty looking red welt under his buzzed hairline. “Good as rain.”

”The rain here hasn’t exactly been good.” More like miscolored, acidic, and far too painful to take a shower in. Speaking of, its residue was still soaked into my sleeves. I’d need to find a replacement sometime soon.

“I’ll be fine. Really. Just a bit of a headache.”

I eyed him for a moment. He met my eyes without even trying to pull away. I slowly nodded and slid off the pinball machine. “I’ll talk to Locke. See if I can’t get a squad together to go up there.”

As I turned around, Fleff called out hesitantly, “Joy?”

I paused and looked over my shoulder. “Yup?”

”Thanks… for dragging me back, I mean.”

”I didn’t.” I nodded off toward the entrance. “The mutt did.”

”Tell him thanks too, then.” Fleff smiled faintly.

I waved him off and moved toward the sound of an argument deeper in the arcade. I reached for my thigh—ah, right, it was on my back now. I hacked off the top of my jumpsuit with my knife. Probably could’ve just kept it and washed it off if I survived this, but it was getting in the way of my pouches.

Just as I got done fixing up my wardrobe, I found the source of the argument. Lieutenant Islander was awake, and he sounded awfully pissy about it. “—gun, Locke. You disarmed me. What the hell kind of insubordination is this?!”

Locke looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. ”Sir—“

”Don’t sir me, bastard,” Islander growled low in the back of his throat. If he wasn’t a cripple, he likely would’ve gotten in Locke’s face. “What am I going to do completely defenseless like this? Cry and beg that I don't get stabbed in the throat?!”

”Sir, you failed the basic orientation check.” The sergeant looked like he was on the headsman’s block. “You didn’t even know where you were.”

”I had just gotten blown up! Of course I didn’t know where I was!”

Locked showed the patience of a saint. ”You know its protocol—

“Protocol my ass!” The lieutenant spit to the side in disdain, which just so happened to land on my boot. “The first thing I’m doing when we get back to Bloodharbor is sending a message straight to the Storm Commanders to remove that fucking protocol.”

“Watch it, dick.” I wiped off my boot on his pant leg. The empty one.

”And who the hell do you think you are to call your superior—“ Lieutenant Islander stopped cold when his eyes fell on my patch. Hexagon, not a circle like the rest of them.

“Continue.” I squatted down to get on his level. “What was that about your superior?”

”N-nothing, ma’am.” The lieutenant swallowed dryly. “I was just explaining to Locke here that I needed a gun to defend myself.”

I looked up to Locke for confirmation. The man sighed deeply. “He took a heavy hit to the head and refused your medic’s psych checks to make sure he’s still mentally stable.”

”Was he ever stable?” Everyone knew just how damn stupid it was to argue with a medic. They were the pettiest bunch no matter what organization.

”Of course I fucking was!” Islander shouted. “I may be down a leg, but my mind is like a steel trap.”

”Morose!” I barked out to the arcade and stood back up. “One more patient for you! Don’t take no for an answer!”

From the far side of the arcade, she responded, “didn’t plan on it!”

”I don’t—“

“Care.” I cut the man off. It was as much a powerplay as it was just trying to get him to shut his trap. “Locke, I’ve got something to discuss. And you—if you refuse again, we don’t need dead weight.”

Lieutenant Islander looked personally offended at my insinuation, though wisely didn’t keep yapping. He just glared at me and waited for Morose to come check on him.

I shook my head and walked away with Sergeant Locke. Back near the old ticket counter, a group of mercs surrounded a half-functional arcade game with no sound. It was just flickering images and jumpy movement. One of the mercs was asleep in the prize space with a pile of foam swords propped up under his head as a pillow.

Neither one of us spoke for a time. Once we were far enough, he spoke up quietly, “Are you sure that was wise, ma’am?”

“What was?” I rubbed my arms once more and readjusted the straps of my arm guards where they'd been rubbing weirdly.

”Getting on Lieutenant Isley’s bad side like that.” Sergeant Locke dropped his voice even quieter. “He’s a ring-knocker with a pedigree.”

Ugh—politics. They were always the worst. Politics wouldn’t matter much if we didn’t get out of here alive, though. “I’ll be fine. Your concern is appreciated though.”

“Ma’am.”

We went silent as we worked our way back through the arcade. Once we found a more secluded spot, I hopped up onto some kind of augmented reality game and made myself comfortable. “I need a team.”

”Now? Are you sure?” Locke’s shoulder tensed. “We still have injured, and—“

”Volunteer only.” I could see through his words at a glance. Worry practically bled off of him. He’d seen whatever took out Saber-Three and two of his men, and likely wouldn’t want a repeat. “Only five or six. The rest stay down here with the injured.”

The sooner we got that taken care of, the better. Splitting the group wasn’t a great idea when there were assassins hiding in the dark. I could see that as clear as day. The longer we left the jammer up, the more damage would be done to Stormfall around the city though. Waiting wasn’t an option. Especially with injuries that wouldn’t heal with a few hours rest like the Lieutenant. 

Between the two squads, and myself, there were eighteen of us present. Twelve would be more than enough to stay behind and protect the injured. Especially with the six of us drawing the attention of whatever lurks in the dark away. 

“Are you sure? It might not be enough. You can ten and leave only a few of us to guard the injured.” 

“We need somewhere to fall back to once we take out whatever’s causing the interference.” I pointed at the arcade’s floor. “That would be here. Besides, a smaller group can move quicker.”

Sergeant Locke closed his eyes and thumbed the grip of his pistol. “You want to hit and run?”

”Thats what Stormfall does best.” Orbital drop, attack and objective, and then get out before shit can hit the fan. Usually, anyway. The entire plan got fucked up by that EM storm

”Yeah, against a known enemy…” Locke sighed and looked out over the arcade. “Okay. I’ll make sure at least one of mine goes with you. They’ll be able to lead you to what was left of Saber-Three. We were attacked before we could look much, but you guys might be able to scavenge some gear.”

”Smart.” Assuming they’d still be there. The trails on the way through the arcology indicated whatever was here had a tendency to take its victims elsewhere. “Go ask around your squad. Volunteers gather at the entrance in… twenty minutes?”

“Roger, ma’am.” Locke pushed off from the arcade machine he leaned against and stalked off into the arcade.

I hopped off the arcade machine and headed to the entrance myself. On the way, I ran into Johnson who was just waking up and drinking something dark from a dented can. “Round up volunteers. Scout and strike in twenty. And tell Fleff.”

“On it.” He straightened up and donned the rest of the tin.

With that taken care of, I passed between a duo of mercs and slipped out of the arcade. I didn’t go far—splitting off too much by myself was asking for trouble. Near the entrance, I let out a low whistle and carefully watched my surroundings.

Black Dog appeared around a corner a minute later. As he drew closer, the white sparks on his shaggy fire lit back up and announced his presence. “You called?”

I nodded to the hound and motioned back toward the mercs at the door. They’d both tensed when he approached. “Find anything?” 

“The stairs.” He slid up beside me and gently wrapped my wrist with his long, tendril like tail. “And a couple of old battle scenes.”

”What about our friends?” 

“Their scent covers this place. At least three of them. Some kind of reptile.” He nodded up toward the ceiling. “They probably have a nest somewhere further up.”

”What makes you say that?” Three… that changed a few things. It wasn’t just one that took out Saber-Three. It made me feel slightly better, at least. One of them wasn’t equal to an entire squad. 

“Scent trails indicate this place is like a hunting ground for them.” He released my wrist and growled softly. “It could just be hidden in some corner. This arcology is massive. The way the trails looked, though, seemed more like patrol routes.”

Territorial and smart enough to have patrols, too? I gripped my rifle tightly. There was a high chance there were more than just three, then. 

Something still confused me about this group though. We’re they intelligent? If so, then it made sense why they had a jammer up and were protecting this place. Everything pointed toward them being more animalistic, though. Which then begged the question—who put the jammers up? And why weren’t they being attacked by whatever these creatures were? 

Really, those were just the tip of the iceberg when it came to questions. I threw them to the back of my mind like the others and slid back into the arcade. I’d find out soon enough, anyway.

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AN: I read somewhere that readers are interested in behind the scenes stuff with actually writing chapters. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to try to get a note in with that kind of thing every once in a while.

This chapter actually wasn’t in my OG plan for Stormfall at all. It was supposed to just be a regroup and go offscreen to keep up pacing. And yeah, pacing with this one is my biggest concern. Really, pacing is always a massive concern of mine. It’s super hard to get a feel for it.

Bit of a tangent, but most reviews I’ve received over the past couple years have been, ‘you’re good at world building, but your characters need some work’. Hence this chapter snuck in. I really want to try and focus on the characters and make them feel more alive in Stormfall, even if they are just grunts and one offs.

Outrun in particular has an issue with Shiro just being alone most of the time. It worked there, kinda, but characterization suffered simply because there weren’t enough other characters. Especially early Outrun, but that had a bunch of other issues from just being awkward with writing still.

Also, I don’t know if I’ve ever pointed this particular problem out, but I seriously hate editing. Usually, when you guys point out some kind of error, I wrote that bit during my editing pass to add to a scene. Like, for the most part, when I’m in the zone and just typing I don’t have too many issues. It’s seriously irritating, especially on RR. I’d say a good 7/10 errors are like that.