Call of duty
Call of duty
Fort. Sector 6.
Eastward exit.
409 AF.
There were tons of people gathered around the gate. It was still shut tight of course, though the Bulwark soldier posted there had been dismissed by his superiors.
This was the fastest route to the Terror – the eastward exit. Hence, it made sense that the members of the raid gathered together there. Their numbers were increasing every minute, and so was the noise. Old friends meeting each other again, team mates catching up and enemies hurtling insults at each other.
A not-really young man watched them from up above. He had black skin, brown hair and brown eyes. His dread-locks were long, reaching down to his neck. He was also shirtless, but wore a black jacket with a skull design on it. His black jeans were plain, but had holsters for two pistols at his waist. Around his neck, there was a necklace that had a design spelling the word: "Jupiter".
The man had a frown pasted on his face. He was sitting on the rooftop of a building, not too far away from where they were all gathered. It was peaceful, sitting up there, until they showed up.
He rearranged the headphones on his ears. Then his frown broke, if only a little bit.
Then it came back when he started to hear a very girly song. It was also a very old song, but somehow he managed to get his hands on it.
I'm a barbie girl in a barbie world.
Life in plastic, it's fantastic
He pressed a button by the side of the headphones. The music stopped, and then he was greeted by a familiar voice.
"Mr. Saturn, I've put myself in yet another problem."
"Buster, it's Jupiter, not Saturn. What's the problem?"
"You see, there's this girl..."
Jupiter slammed the button and there was this beep sound signifying that the call was cut off. He grinned.
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"He cut me off!" Ivan tossed the device to the ground.
"You just broke your communicator, idiot." Tara stared at him with a deadpan expression.
Ivan was livid with anger, the veins in his forehead nearly bulging out.
"That crooked bastard!" He yelled at the top of his voice.
Tara was busy staring at the sky. The black sky. The darkness was... different from the Fort. The only thing lighting up the place was a small light emitter Ivan set up earlier. The two of them were standing near it.
It was known as a torch in the olden days. Now, it had become several stein better. The device was five feet tall and about two feet wide.
Tara frowned. The light emitter was bright and very powerful. But it was too big to carry about, especially if they were trying to be ready for attacks from all directions.
"Alright, Tara?"
"Of course."
"You know we're in the wilderness, right? Setting up a communication device here is difficult enough. And there are mutants roaming about. It's only a matter of time, before the Bulwarks pin point our location and take us out."
"I get it. We're screwed."
"Screwed?"
"I thought you went to clubs, you should know these words more than me. It means we're fucked."
"Like... People really really don't like us?"
Tara stared back with a tired expression. Then she slowly shook her head.
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I'm a barbie girl in a barbie world
Life in plastic it's fantastic
You can brush my hair.
Undress me anywhere
Jupiter sighed and pressed the button.
"If it's about a chick, don't even think about..."
"She's an esper."
"I'm listening."
"I don't want you to listen, I want you to come help me. Remember, you owe me."
"Wrong. I owe your brother. You're a liability."
"I know. I know. Just get here as fast as you can. I'm outside the Fort, right outside the Westward exit. The door's shut, but we've got the keys. We'll open it up from a remote location- you know how I do it. I trust you can get past the bulwarks if they prove to be trouble. When you're in the dark, give me a call and I'll send you our co-ordinates."
Jupiter was quiet for a while. He had brought out a cigarette from his pocket, and lit it with a lighter.
"Hey, Neptune. Are you... smoking?"
"What does it sound like? Anyways, kid, is she an illegal esper? You're trying to smuggle her to another haven? You could've just hacked your way through a teleportation site like you usually do."
"She might be... But that's not our plan. We've got an... objective outside of the Fort. A friend to pick up. Not really clear on the details."
"How much am I getting out of this?"
"A million."
"Hehehe. You must be out of your mind, kid. By the way, where's the 500 grand you owe me?"
"Umm.. the... Umm. Network is.... we're breaking off."
The call ended.
"Fucker played a fast one on me. Too bad I don't want him offed."
Jupiter straightened his back and stretched his neck and arms.
"The bulwarks agents assigned to the gate must be busy getting the second key. All the red tape around it, it's gonna take hours to pass through all those processes. I'm guessing Van hasn't been there long. He didn't give me an impossible mission this time."
He started running, using a button to resume the music he was playing earlier. Then as the music blared in his ears, he made a 4ft jump between two buildings, sliding as he landed, and getting into a sprint with the same motion.
Love is a wonderful thing...
'It's gonna take me two hours to get there... Approximately three hours for the Bulwark squad to organise their shit. That leaves me a one-hour window.'
As he sprinted, he pulled out two pistols from his pockets.
'Time to handle this, cowboy style.'
He took off again, making yet another impossible jump effortlessly.
'78% chance of success. A bit two high in my opinion. But winning's winning.'
He took jump after jump, something swinging across overhead wires and running by the side of buildings.
Eventually, the man managed to cross two districts in a hour and half.
Fort, sector 4.
Westward exit.
Landing on the closest building to the gate, he saw more than a dozen uniformed men, with all sorts of weapons. They were clustered around the gate, each and every one of them alert and ready for combat.
They wore cloth armour over their black uniforms. Bullet-proof material that's also resistant to fire and electric shock.
'They got their shit together fast. 56%chance now.'
Jupiter spotted a familiar face. Amongst the Bulwark troops, an incredibly muscular man stood tall. He had a stout build with well-defined muscles almost popping out of his shirt. He also held an RS-96 Rocket launcher with a single hand, effortlessly.
'Damn. Wesley's here. 12% chance, huh? Now that's more like it.'
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