Unstoppable

"Pull him out!" Icarus shouted, rising from her seat. Her voice was hoarse, desperate. "Send something! Anything!"

But no one moved. All they could do was watch in helpless silence as a fourth bloat-carrier emerged from the horde.

This one was massive, its grotesque form barely able to support its own weight. It moved slower than the others, but every step it took sent tremors through the ground.

Icarus gripped the edge of the console, her knuckles white. "No… no, no, no…"

The massive creature let out a final, guttural roar before it slammed into the building.

BOOM!

The explosion was catastrophic. Flames erupted from every window, the force of the blast sending rubble and ash flying in all directions. The building groaned one last time before collapsing in on itself, a monstrous plume of smoke and dust rising into the sky.

The drone feed went static for a moment before recalibrating, revealing the smoldering wreckage of the once-imposing structure.

The command room was deathly silent, every face pale, every pair of eyes fixed on the screen.

"COME ON, ELFYYYY!" she screamed at the monitor, her voice cracking. "BURST OUT OF THAT RUBBLE LIKE THE DAMN HERO I KNOW YOU ARE!"

Her outburst startled everyone in the room. Heads turned, wide-eyed and confused, as they stared at her. The faint hum of electronics was the only sound after her raw shout echoed through the room.

For a moment, nothing happened. The drone feed showed nothing but the smoking, smoldering ruins of the collapsed building, Extractants scurrying around the wreckage, either fleeing or regrouping. Icarus's chest heaved as she glared at the screen, her nails digging into her palms.

Then, almost as if her words had summoned him, a massive chunk of debris rocketed through the air and smashed into an unfortunate Extractant that had been sprinting toward the Cathedral. The creature crumpled, its body twitching before going still.

Gasps rippled through the room as the drone feed zoomed in on the source.

A massive, armored foot stepped out of the rubble, shoving aside chunks of stone and twisted steel as if they weighed nothing. Dust swirled around the figure as he emerged, his armor scorched and dented but still intact, the glowing visor slicing through the haze like a beacon.

It was SABER-1.

He stood tall amidst the wreckage, his chainsword in one hand and his MK99 slung across his back. His posture was unshaken, his movements deliberate and unhurried, as if the explosions and collapsing building had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

The room erupted into relieved murmurs and cheers, but Icarus froze as the comms crackled to life, his deep, metallic voice cutting through the air:

"I intended to."

Her heart nearly stopped. The realization hit her like a freight train: she had screamed out loud—not just in her head. She clapped her hands over her face, her cheeks burning with embarrassment as the room erupted into surprised laughter and awkward chuckles.

Desperate to salvage what little composure she had left, she snatched up her flight helmet and jammed it onto her head. "Alright, alright, laugh it up!" she muttered under her breath, trying to hide her red face.

But as her hands fumbled with the helmet's strap, she replayed his words in her mind. To the room, his response sounded blunt and characteristically cold, but she heard something else—a faint lightheartedness, almost imperceptible but undeniably there.

Her lips twitched into a soft smile beneath the visor, her heart pounding for reasons entirely unrelated to the chaos on the screen.

"Showoff," she muttered quietly, but the warmth in her voice betrayed her admiration.

And as she sat back down, pretending to focus on her console, she knew the truth: SABER-1 was more than just humanity's greatest soldier. To her, he was Elfy, and no amount of rubble—or embarrassment—could change that.

The battlefield was chaos incarnate, yet within that maelstrom stood SABER-1, wielding his chainsword like a master swordsman from a long-forgotten age. The weapon's serrated teeth roared as they spun, chewing through flesh and bone with mechanical precision. Each swing was deliberate, calculated—a perfect mix of power and grace.

The Extractants swarmed around him, their grotesque forms lunging and snapping, but he met them head-on. His chainsword hummed through the air as he parried an oncoming strike, the blade sparking against the armored carapace of a spiked Extractant. With a twist of his wrist and a perfectly timed riposte, he sent the creature sprawling, its head severed in one clean stroke.

Another surged from his left, claws reaching for his helmet. He sidestepped fluidly, spinning on his heel to bring the chainsword down in a brutal arc that cleaved through the creature's midsection. Black ichor sprayed into the air, painting the already scorched battlefield in a fresh coat of gore.

His movements were almost theatrical, each attack and counterattack executed with a flair that seemed at odds with his typically utilitarian demeanor. To the untrained eye, it might have looked like he was showing off, but every strike was designed with precision, every flourish a tactical decision meant to control the flow of combat.

Watching from the drone feed, the control room was mesmerized. The sheer elegance of his fighting style was mesmerizing, as if they were witnessing a warrior from an ancient epic brought to life amidst the horrors of the Extractant horde.

"He's… he's like a dancer," someone murmured, their voice tinged with awe.

But even the greatest dances must end, and SABER-1's relentless onslaught seemed to finally trigger an instinctive shift among the Extractants.

The smaller creatures, the swarm that had relentlessly thrown themselves at him, began to falter. Their shrieks changed in tone, less aggressive and more panicked. Then, as if some unspoken law of the jungle had taken over, they began to scatter. The ground shook as they fled, retreating into the shadows and ruins, leaving behind only the larger, more menacing Extractants.

These were the true predators of the horde—hulking, twisted abominations with chitinous armor and grotesque weaponry melded into their bodies. They loomed over the battlefield like nightmares made flesh, their guttural roars shaking the very air.

SABER-1 didn't flinch. His stance shifted slightly, his chainsword held ready in both hands as he surveyed his new opponents. The serrated blade purred softly, its teeth dripping with black ichor.

Then his voice came over the comms, calm and unyielding:

"Icarus, board up. Prepare for immediate takeoff. Notify me when you're eight minutes out."

In the control room, Icarus's heart leaped. She slammed her hand onto her console, her voice cutting through the static:

"Roger that, Elfy. On it!"

Her words carried a mix of relief and exhilaration. She had been waiting for those words, waiting for the moment he would finally allow her to be part of his escape.

As she rushed to ready her Thunderbird for takeoff, the control room personnel watched the feed, their eyes fixed on SABER-1 as he stood amidst the growing tension. The hulking Extractants circled him like predators sizing up their prey, their movements slow and deliberate.

SABER-1's chainsword roared to life once more, and with a flick of his wrist, he motioned for the creatures to come.

The battlefield grew eerily silent as the last hulking Extractant let out a guttural, bone-rattling roar before crumpling to the ground. Its grotesque body twitched once, twice, then lay still amidst the wreckage and carnage. SABER-1 stood over its lifeless form, his massive frame looming like a shadow of judgment. His chainsword, now dulled and dripping with black ichor, hung limply in his right hand.

With a practiced motion, he holstered his sidearm magnetically onto his thigh plate and turned toward the Cathedral. His steps were slow, deliberate, the ground beneath him crunching under the weight of his armor and the debris strewn across the battlefield.

The iron door stood ahead, battered but intact. Without hesitation, he placed a massive gauntlet on the door and pulled. The ancient hinges groaned under his strength as the door swung inward with an unsettling creak, the sound echoing down the stone stairwell beyond.

SABER-1 marched forward, the dim light from the surface casting long shadows that danced along the walls. His boots struck the stone steps with a steady rhythm, each impact a low boom that reverberated through the chamber below like the footsteps of some vengeful god.

In the underground chamber, the nuns and civilians froze as the sound reached them. The prayers and murmurs of reassurance came to an abrupt halt, replaced by a suffocating silence.

Then, he appeared.

The hulking figure of SABER-1 stepped into the flickering light of the chamber, his armor battered and scorched, streaked with the black ichor of the Extractants he had slain. Every joint and plate seemed to ooze grime, and the faint glow from his visor cut through the dimness like a predator's gaze. His left hand gripped his chainsword, its teeth silent but still glistening with the viscous remains of his enemies.

To the people in the chamber, he wasn't a man. He was a monster.

Some shrank back, shielding their children and averting their eyes, unable to reconcile the figure before them with the idea of salvation. His bulk filled the room, his presence oppressive and almost suffocating. The chainsword swung slightly as he walked, the motion unnerving, as if it might roar to life at any second and unleash its fury upon them.

SABER-1 stopped in the center of the chamber, his towering frame casting long shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly. He turned his head slowly, scanning the room with a measured gaze that made everyone feel as if they were being weighed and judged.

"Who's in charge here?"

His voice was deep, metallic, and emotionless, yet it carried an authority that was impossible to ignore. The sound of it sent a shiver through the room, the kind of voice that demanded answers and would brook no hesitation.

The nuns exchanged fearful glances, their courage faltering as they stared at the terrifying figure before them. Finally, Sister Marianne stepped forward, her hands trembling as she clasped them tightly in front of her.

"I… I am," she said, her voice quivering but resolute.

SABER-1's visor turned to her, the faint glow reflecting off her pale face. For a moment, the silence was deafening, the weight of his presence pressing down on everyone.

"You've done well to keep them all safe," he said finally, his voice a low rumble that carried a faint undercurrent of approval.

The chamber seemed to collectively exhale, the tension breaking slightly as the people began to realize that the monster before them wasn't there to harm them.

Sister Marianne nodded, her voice steadier now. "And you… you are here to save us?"

SABER-1 didn't answer immediately. Instead, he shifted the chainsword to his back, where it magnetically locked into place with a heavy clunk.

"Rescue is underway," he said. "Stay ready. Follow instructions. You'll all make it out."

His words, though brusque, carried a strange comfort. The people in the chamber began to murmur amongst themselves, a flicker of hope sparking amidst their fear.

SABER-1 turned his head slightly, his glowing visor scanning the chamber one last time before he added:

"Do not slow me down."

And with that, he turned back toward the stairs, his massive frame retreating into the darkness above.