Summon, or She Dies.

[Gildarts]

There is a time before a battle, when the stomach clenches and your eyes fix on an opponent who could bring you or your platoon immediate, or slow death. This was a battle not for life, but for her sister's. Defeat was not an option, yet, there was an eeriness in the air so pungent, even the bull-headed prime Christa could taste it. Her blood stilled as her eyes fixed on the island that they knew to be a guise. This was it. Her moment, everything would change, but would it be for the worse or for the better? How hard Christa would fight would not only determine the fate of her sister, but anyone else this vile shithead had impacted. Christa had made up her mind, targeting her blood thirst on her vision of the man who took her. She had chosen, with the clutch of her whitening knuckles, never again, would this man's evil haunt this world. She hoped he was a secondary, if not only to end his life once and for all.

The boat chugged slowly to their destination while Christa hefted her weapon-filled bags over her shoulder, "This is it, we're here. She's here. There might be more than one enemy, Bot, and should you, er, permanently shut down during this battle, let's hope you saved your best for last. You will do what you're here for, and your mission will be complete. Help me beat them."

The robot said nothing to her -though she had called his entire existence disposable- and toted double her pack's weight with ease. They were covered by nightfall still, and the moon shined lightly on the ever-changing waves of the water. They stealthily made land and docked the smaller boat with ease.

A dark cloud rolled in over the sky, blackening their already nearly pitch night and it started to rain on their parade as a fresh wave of dark gray spouted from the sky in a heavy, dense shower.

Christa's face, after just a small trek across the tropical wood, was plastered with mud that had splattered up from the heavy storm currently raging. Lightning crackled on the horizon and lit up the clouds with a shock of cackling electricity. The sheen of moisture illuminated Christa's face as her pale skin was thickly covered in mud's dark slime, making the contrast of her pale icy eyes, all the more enlivening. Cold clothing clung to her chilled bones, weighing her already shackled body, down deep in the sludge she was swishing through. Heels sunk in, and the ground sucked her down deeper into the flooding island. They’d planned to sneak across the small knoll covered in ample forestry for a stealth mission, and so they did. The robot’s circuits seemed to be rusting a little, but the machine kept marching like a true trooper.

She was gritting her teeth, and panting for the humid air that wasn’t delivering fast enough throughout her muscles. The weather had slicked and dampened her hair, she was soaked, her socks were squishing grossly, and the dampness under her arms and on her brow, she couldn’t know if it was mostly sweat or the rain that poured torrentially overhead.

They were nearing the main mouth of the cave, next came for the scuba part of the game. The bags were air-insulated, no water would be tainting her gunpowder anytime soon, rain wise or ocean wise. And the cave, surely would have enough shelter to read, aim, and fire at the enemy.

Christa tried to prepare herself, mentally, physically, spiritually, for whatever she would stumble upon. Her sister’s kidnapper could have done terrible things to her, Christa could’ve been too late, however, nothing could keep her from finishing her duty, and taking this motherfucker down. Still, any situation, the kidnapper would know she was coming, and without the prize she’d searched for at his request in Karl Jak’s land of utterly abysmal Hell.

Whatever it was, whatever was beyond that darkness, she would take the plunge, sacrifice anything and everything to complete the story she’d forged with her own inner fire.