The Fog of War

[Gildarts]

Day Zero - Dog of War and Hounds of Hell

VROOOOM!

The hum of zooming vehicles closed in behind her as she steered the hovercraft with her too tight grip and dodged buildings she would have surely crashed into. Damn. Her training hadn't prepared her for this. The air washed her clean the sticky, stained cold fabric of her shirt clung to her chest.

WHOOSH!

A gust of wind carried her past the corner she had steered it to take. The heavy butt of the scooter she had only just learned to drive, skidded and slid as it braked on air and remained almost completely unresponsive while its tail light swung into a windowed Coruscant building and scattered glass on the many miles below.

Jeez that was close. The blonde gasped as she watched the shimmering rims of light fall to into the height of darkness. Quick as flint, she took to the handles once more and revved the engine of the hover scooter, delivering her from the almost immediate surrounding of at least ten white soldiers. Her eyes never fell on the dash-bound needle that quickly climbed with her fearless acceleration.

These freaking people on my tail. Legions of troopers stormed with unending thunder as they traveled close behind with the blast of battle quaking in their uniform march. How had she ended up here? Speeding for her life in the maze of city streets that was Coruscant?

She had chosen a chase scene instead of agreeing to come quietly, just like the movies. They had nothing she wanted and now, they threatened her life? Seems fair. she thought sarcastically, but this is what being a target got her. And sure, the empire was willing to negotiate, in "an eye for your soul" kind of way.


But let's start as the beginning shall we? My name is Christa Adams, and I was sipping tea in my relocated home in Coruscant after the migration of a lifetime. Days ago, the word "Prime" was hardly used without "Optimus" placed in front of it. And clocks only counted time zones differently, rather than measure different days in different worlds, or "Verses" I guess they say.

Apparently, some prime summoned me, who was it? How the hell should I know? Nor do I care. Or at least I didn't, until some bastards barged in my house.


A gentle song made the air into a melody as a brightly realized smile came to my sister's freshly lit face, brought with the light of glowing candles that she followed with her big brown eyes. The cake weighed heavy in my hands, as I delivered it right in front of her, and placed it on the table. I had set it with only ten candles. Only ten.

It was chocolate and I stayed up all night creating it. I can still taste the frosting on the corner of my lip. My smile grows, bringing tears to my eyes as the two of us share a moment, this moment. It doesn't matter if we are a world away from home, as long as we were together. Katia's eyes dwelled on the candles as though they were stuck on a clue, suddenly she looked to me. Her eyes held a question in them that her lips needed prompting to speak.

"What's wrong?" I asked my sister.

A flinch corrupted her smile and her response was one I'll never forget as long as I live, I never thought kids could get so deep. Her ten year old, light-toned voice spoke, "I just... Never want this moment to end."

"Hey, I worked real hard on that cake, you better blow out those candles before they drip wax everywhere." Wax frosting. They were wax less candles, like a thing of the future, common here, but she didn't know. I now wish she had never blown them out.

"Thanks Christa," she responded, "This means a lot to me since mom and dad aren't here."

Mom and dad. They were dead. We were orphans. Nothing more to it. As a sister it was my job to save her. Fat lot of good I did.

"Happy birthday dear Katia, happy birthday to you..."

The light of the room was swept away by the air from her lungs. Smoke coiled from the fringed wicks, as clapping came from both sets of our hands. We exchanged a smile. I cupped my hand around her soft hair and kissed it. The world had ended, and we were together. And then there was a knock at the door. God, I hate myself for answering that door. So much.

Naive. Like a child. Perhaps worse as I didn't even bother to check the keyhole. I wasn't home, and the reality that I had to fight for my safety had yet to dawn on me. In one hand I held me hot tea, the next, I turned the knob. The door parted open, and my brain swirled with numbed shock.

Minutes passed, I must've blacked out, my tea had spilt on my shirt, and hot water was everywhere. I woke to the distant echoes of the same voice spoken by different men, all in white.

"You there!"

"Come with us."

"She passed out."

"Let's bring her to the boss."

"I already got her sister."

Oh god, I remember the screams now. Katia's voice, beckoning me to come back to life. Foolishly, I remained asleep.

"Yeah she's down at the car." Another man replied curtly, as though he were talking through a microphone.

"She's waking up."

"Oh good, we don't have to carry her now."

I fell like a lump to the ground and awakened to the heavy sound of a knock. Only later did I realize it was my own head.

"Who the hell are you?" My hostility challenged their authority. At first I thought there was only one soldier with me, that I was seeing double like when I got too drunk. Then the fuzzy blur around the outline of their helmets became a refined silhouette. There were two actual storm troopers –like from Star Wars – carrying me off into the sunset. Fuck them. This place couldn't get any weirder now. Or so I thought.

"Where's Katia?" I asked, still disoriented. My head spun faster than a top as my vision steadied.

"Oh the little girl?" Christa looked back at the cake, never cut, candles blown. "We took care of her. Now the boss wants to see you, come with us."

"Katia..." My voice wavered, cracked with pain. "You... YOU BASTARDS!" She was all I had left, what can I say? It went faster than those candles had been blown out, and the Empire's soldiers got their own "lights out."

The swing of my trained motion had splattered it everywhere. Frankly, it was quite gross. But I was never the queezy type. Katia was dead, I had just killed two of them. Her murderers. My grief was surpressed by the high I had gotten from the sweet revenge. The splatter of blood on my cheek, all over my shirt, it was everywhere. Part of me even liked making those goons into soup. Revenge was better than dessert, like the uneaten cake I had glanced at on my way out. Only thing was, you couldn't share it. And it didn't bring the dead back to life.

I ran to the garage on the roof. It was a patio and scaling higher than the horizon was the towering image of colossal buildings that I would never get used to. I didn't think as I started the engine of a strange looking machine. And before I knew it, I was in the air.

Now this is the part where, you, my earful listener freaks out, because the story came full circle. That's okay, me running for my life sucks as a place to end my story, and I didn't realize the plot holes either. Those things are harder to notice when you are living them. But I guess it all panned out well enough. Minus the fucked-up ending.

"There's the girl! What are you waiting for, shoot her down!"

"No, we are under strict orders not to."

"She doesn't know that, shoot around her!"

"But if we hit her she'll-"

"Ugh. Pussy." Shots fired around me, I was flying midair, in a futuristic city, being chased by stormtroopers. And what, then this suited asshole comes from the rear of the hound platoon and tries to reason with me? Sure he knocked that one guy with the blaster off his speed bike, but that didn't make him friend of the year.

"Christa, stop this!"

I didn't turn my chin over to see him. And oh, do I regret it.

This is the part of the story where I tell Katia I'm sorry, or I say I wish I had spent more time with her, or that I could see the future. But honestly, that comes later. Action was hot in my blood, my heart pounded with the speed of sound, and I was so, so angry. There will never be a day where I don't regret this one. Because today, those ten candles went out because of me.

Revenge. I thirsted for it. Two wasn't enough to quench the anger that lit my blood. I wanted them all. I wanted their heads. I lacked purpose in this world, I lacked a destiny. It was not my own, there was no reason to fight, but there was a reason to die. For her.

I did something stupid, we were nearing a pedestrian cross-walk bridge, and I thought it might be a good idea to take all of the flying scooters out with me. Kamikaze, I think they call it? Well, I was one crazy fucker back then, and I decided it didn't matter who I took down with me, as long as their dead bodies could be my results.

My proof that I wouldn't just let Katia die. I was righteous, I was stupid, and most of all, I was selfish. And karma is a mother-fucking bitch. Someday I hope Omni will sympathize, but I doubt it. Man, do I wish I had looked at who was crossing that bridge before I wrecked it. All of it came down in flames, and I looked at the rubble of my future, torn to shreds.

The malleable rock was soft, it took but a couple slashings to free it. Meanwhile, people crossed overhead, not knowing enough to look down, and me not caring enough to look up. I had framed the moment perfectly, everything was positioned into place, all I had to do was wait for the grenade I had wedged between the cracks to go off.

The man on the scooter slowed as he drew closer. Right where I wanted him, right beneath the ledge that would mean his death. Sunglasses framed his ominously expressionless face.

"What the fuck do you want from me?"

"We just want to... Make a deal." His tone tempted her.

"Who..."

"I work for the empire, they even supplied me with a small legion to help me support my cause. All I need from you is a little participation. Then you will get to see your precious sister again."

"Katia?! What have you done with her!?"

And that was when the bombs blew up in my face. Well technically, rubble fell from above. I watched it all, and sometimes I can't help but replay the images in my head over and over again.

The bridge collapsed, and all went according to plan. A huge piece of cement smashed into sunglass's temple. A piece that should have killed him. Gravity carried the rock down into the lower tiers, meanwhile, he snapped his neck. Scooters broke when they made impact with the hell from above, meanwhile my heart raced. I could save her, there was hope. I sped from the shower of death after approximating the proximity of rock, and gadging the ratio of distance with simple odds. I survived and following me was that same suited man of death.

I twisted behind me, while that sick son of a bitch followed. He brushed through the cascading fall of rock like it was nothing but water. The freak wouldn't die. So my response was to do as I was trained. And of course, I shot him.

I've never missed a shot in my life. Not to mention a shot that meant more than my life. Apparently amongst the rubble, he had acquired a shield. That shield was my sister. I didn't turn my head, but my scooter was about to explode into a building. I leapt to the closest platform and rolled safely out. The pursuit was still in session, because I heard the soft clacking of his pretty-boy shoes.

"Why won't you-" my eyes froze as I look up. My shout of rage screeched to a stop, claimed by my broken fortitude.

In his arms, he held the bloodied corpse of Katia. A bullet her heart. Her birthday. My bullet. Why couldn't I have missed the shot? Apparently, I didn't, as even in my grief, running as I reached out to her, I noticed a distinct hole in the man's suit, where his cold heart should have been.

"I-I-Oh Katia," my voice broke as I held her bloodied body against my chest. I jiggled her awake, as though I would wake her, or myself, from this nightmare.

I would have done anything to bring her back. However, I would never stoop to the same level of the groveling scum. Especially those who had caused all of this. My guilt clouded my judgement. I knelt before the man in sheer agony, holding the chilling body of my sister, trying to find a reason or a way to stop crying in front of my enemy.

Eventually I lost that "sensitivity." Manipulation, terror, and fear. No one deserved to die like that. One shot from my pistol seemed kinder that way. But I was a warrior. I dropped my sister to the ground and waged war with Empirical hell.

Until someone came up from behind me, and blew my candles out.