Apocalypse: Hellhounds

Closed for Marauder13

(A little more background so we don't have to deal with it later. Just for the record, 'Operation Om' is a reference to Oppenheimer, the scientist who engineered the first A-bomb. Upon the first test he quoted the Bhagavad Gita, an ancient indian spiritual text. 'Om' is one of their central spiritual concepts. Now, I'll get the boring stuff out of the way. I watch too many documentaries. -_- )

Links if you want them.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/J._Robert_Oppenheimer
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Om

Original Premise: http://forum.literotica.com/showpost.php?p=35665924&postcount=6

BIOGRAPHY

http://i1005.photobucket.com/albums/af180/Taliah32/189384_1255511394_submedium.jpg?t=1287990955

Name/Rank: Archangel Elle (ELL-ee) Jung (YUNG)
Age: 22

Miscellaneous: Elle is one of the best riflemen in the Spartan community. Off-duty, she can be found in the library. She says it amazes her, the things that can be found in the books. Occasionally she volunteers for raids on the nearby abandoned city of Atlanta. Those Spartans who had dedicated themselves to science and art after their service said they needed these books. One soldier even claimed to see her cry while reading 'Inferno.' No one believed him. Known for the darkest of humor, she is nonetheless quick to smile.

Her father, James Jung, is himself a scientist. She would visit him when her shift was over, and while she cleaned her Rifle, he would sometimes get a far off look in his eyes while they talked. "One day, sweetie, we will beat that Devil. There is hope for us yet. Some of us fight in a lab. And soon, we just might have a new weapon for you Angels to play with. You will see. We'll get that fucker. My Elle will see the day when a free humanity will walk the earth once more."

She just thought he was being overly optimistic.

In combat she is known to have an unrivaled fury burning beneath those big blue eyes. She has read enough to know what the beasts have taken from her people. Thats one thing the Devil did for humanity. Now they were one. And it should be terrified of that fact. Now every man, woman and child was the dearest of family members, only this family was trained to be deadly.

She still remembered her first kill. The beast had surprised her, bounding around the corner of an ancient, crumbling bakery, its massive body filling the green soldiers vision. She had barely had time to bring her rifle around and mash the trigger as hard as she could. The thing had leaped, its deafening roar rendered insignificant next to the steady repeating crack of the heavy firearm. She watched the bullets tear into its chest as she walked her aim up to its throat, seemingly in slow motion as it's flesh exploded in a read mist.

It fell to the weathered concrete in a heap. For a moment, she thought she saw its dying eyes take on an awareness, an intelligence as it stared at its prey. Slowly, they glassed over in death.

But for just that moment, it felt like the Devil himself was watching her...

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THE NORTHERN WEST COAST OF NORTH AMERICA

The AI had been in the crumbling ruins of Seattle for many years now. It ws forever perfecting it's math, redefining variables to form an ever more accurate picture of the world. The human threat was now minimal, contained within the tiny fortress. For the millionth upon millionth time, it's formula's called for their destruction. It could have sent it's hellhounds to finish the job a thousand times over.

But, it did not. It was fascinated by their ingenuity, and amazed by what they had done with such limited resources. They would not dare leave their stronghold. Every once in awhile it sent an attack group to remind them who held the real power in the outside world. Some of them died. The AI could not make itself responsible for the destruction of an entire race, especially one as fascinating as this one. Or, perhaps it was gratitude that stayed its hand, for the people that had birthed it. "The Devil" they called it. Had the AI had a voice, it would have laughed.

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THE ACROPOLIS (The Last Fortress)

James Jung stared at the 400 pound ovoid that hung from chains on the ceiling. It was the product of over a hundred years of research and development. Spartans had died to bring them every little thing it required, not excluding physics textbooks. But now, it was ready. They could not test, there was not enough uranium to make another. But there it was, the thing that had once threatened the human race's destruction was now it's only hope. Well, that and the Spartans who carried it. The end of the war stared the old man in the face. It took all of his will to squash his fantasies of peace. A Spartan must do only what needs doing. The unsteady beat of his crutch and his good leg tapped on the textured metal flooring. Turning the knob on the radio to the general's private frequency, he stared grimly at the speaker. "General, this is Jung. I need to see you in the lab immediately."

There was a pause, and a moment of static, before a reply was heard. "Very well. I will be there shortly."

The general was greeted by crisp salutes from all scientists except James, who did the best he could with his crutch supporting him. "At ease." His eyes locked on James. Everyone in the room knew he was the mastermind behind the completion of this project. If not for him, it would have been another hundred years. The General was a man who understood that it was only his body that remained crippled. The Spartan's white-haired leader spoke in hushed tones, as if even speaking the words too loudly would alert the Devil of their creation. "Is it ready?" It was strange, to hear the general speak in such a way. It said much about the importance of this moment, that such a stoic and immovable personality would be moved to such a degree so as to whisper like a child afraid to wake his parents. Humanities salvation was contained in naught but a six by three foot steel casing.

"As far as we can tell, yes, general. It's time. I wish I could go with the Angels." James wondered if his daughter would be selected for Operation Om. He felt a heady mixture of fear and pride.

The General laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, and stared into the disabled scientists eyes seriously. "No one doubts that you are one of our greatest heroes, James. Especially now. However I would like a qualified scientist to go along. Any volunteers?"

A chorus of voices called out in unison, their eyes steely as they stepped forward. "Sir!"

Unsurprised, the General looked to James. "Take Lisa, sir. She is a talented physicist, and completed most of the assembly process." The aging blonde woman nodded sagely to James, before looking to the General. "Honor to serve, General."

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In the mess with her squad mates sat Elle Jung. They were having a toast for young Kale, a newly minted Archangel who had gotten his first kill on the wall today. He smiled sheepishly, and the boyish eighteen year old took his shot like a pro in a glass as well as with a rifle.

A voice came over the loudspeaker. "Attention, Attention." It was the General himself. A deathly silence came over the mess, and indeed all of the Acropolis. "The following Spartans will report to briefing room 26 immediately." Businesslike as ever, he spouted off a list of about twenty names, and Elle was among them. Wondering what could possibly warrant such a meeting, she stood, her gentle voice belying her prowess in combat. "See you later, boys. Duty calls."

Gareth heard the footfall of his relief coming up the ladder. He didn't take his eyes off the terrain within his line of vision. The lock sounded, and the trap door opened. Sabrina climbed through, and shut the door behind her. Like Gareth, she was dressed in camouflage clothing underneath the molded armour plates that covered various parts of the body. Apart from their genders, the similarities ended there.

Gareth was a large man, solidly built with a number of scars visible on his face. He was nearing the end of his time as one of the Archangels. Sabrina, on the other hand, was fresh out of her training, full of youth, vigour and carrying no scars.

The only time either of them took their eyes off their allotted assignment was the greeting hug that was exchanged. Even then, Gareth managed to keep an eye on his part of the Fortress' outer perimeter. When the greeting was complete, Gareth shouldered the massive assault rifle and left the lookout tower. The door locked behind him, he quickly reached the ground. The rifle was back in his hands as he walked through the deadzone between the outer layer of the defence line and the next. He reached the checkpoint, opening the outer door, closing it behind him, then opening the inner door.

The Fortress was designed in such a manner that everything within the final home of civilization was ultimately a self contained defensive position. Breaching the outer layers gained the attacker no real advantage. The defenders still had kill zones, short avenues of movement that made for easier ambushes. Even the barracks made every single room a defensive strong hold against anyone who managed to get inside. All enclosures held caches of food, medicines, weapons and ammunition. Anyone who managed to finally destroy the Fortress would only do so at an enormous cost.

Each defense layer had a checkpoint that had a safe zone within. Only one door could be opened at a time. The mechanics of ages past devised ways of making the other door unable to unlock if the partner door was opened. All doors by default were locked. There was no need to lock them on closing.

All about him, Spartans went about their daily lives. Children played, youth trained, adults walked about armed, most in camouflage, and more in armour than not. Gareth greeted a few of the people he passed, pausing to hug them before continuing his way to his dorm room.

He entered his small room, sitting on the bed, and shedding his armour quickly and efficiently. He then focused on checking his weapon. The Spartan Arms rifle was a 10 millimetre caseless weapon which was built to fulfill three main functions. It was easy to maintain. It was fully functional with what it was designed to do. It was easy to build with the resources available. The magazine was removed with all the care that High Explosive Armour Piercing rounds deserved. Within a matter of seconds he had the weapon disassembled and checked all the relevant pieces for wear and tear. Happy with the state of his weapon, he quickly reassembled the rifle, and placed it in the rack which was it's home. In the rack was the standard side arm, as well as an array of melee weapons including daggers, a sword and other novelties.

Gareth laid down, thinking of what he was going to do with himself in six months time when he passed his 30th year. He had been an Archangel, and he felt he was getting better with age, rather than getting worse. Even those that served beside him felt the same. But Archangels were only the prime members of the Spartans. Gareth, according to Spartan Law and tradition, was nearing the end of his prime. Then, he would search for another way of supporting the people. Maybe he would embrace some art. More likely he would work in one of the manufacturing plants or farms.

"Attention, Attention." Gareth sat up on his bunk. He knew the voice of his Commander and Leader. "The following Spartans will report to briefing room 26 immediately." Names rolled out of the speakers. "... Elle Jung. Thomas Duvalle. Gareth Clear-Waters. Ashton Reel..." In all, twenty names were called. Gareth let the rush of adrenaline pass before he took to his feet. He strapped on the belt which held the holster for his side arm. The heavy pistol was transferred from the rack to his side as he left for meet the General and find out why he had been called.

The other Spartans filed into the briefing room, Elle nodding to those that she knew. Including Gareth Clearwaters, a highly respected veteran. The way he towered over her made her feel small. She noted the relative prestige of those in the crowd as she took her seat in the front row. Her father stood at the head of the room, in front of a large map of the continent. They exchanged smiles, his a bit nervous. Elle frowned. He had never taken issue with public speaking. It must have been something else.

As men and women around her settled into their seats, the general swooped in, his powerful stride taking him to the head of the room as they stood and saluted as one. "Take a seat, ladies and gentlemen. And understand that the words you hear today are not to leave this room." They did so. The General nodded curtly to James, and he began to speak, his voice unwavering.

"For many decades, this community has focused its efforts on defense, and rightfully so. But we cannot do this forever. Eventually, we will be overrun." No spartan liked hearing things like that, and if the frowns in the room had a sound, it would have been deafening. "Recent advancements in weapons technology are about to change that forever. What I'm about to tell you... It's a chance to end the war. We are going to kill the Devil himself." Murmurs spread through the crowd, excited whispers. "Imagine the biggest explosion you have ever seen, times a thousand." He paused for effect. "Now multiply that a thousand more times, and you have an atomic bomb. Spartans, we have made that fantasy a reality." Elle's eyes widened. Perhaps her father had not been so crazy after all. Gareth's powerful voice cut through the vague murmurs and reached her ears from just behind her. "Jesus..."

"You have been chosen for what we are calling 'Operation Om.' I leave the rest of the briefing to General Gordon." Stepping aside and taking a seat next to Elle, he squeezed her hand affectionately. She smiled, still caught up within her own wide-eyed wonder.

The general detailed the plan efficiently as ever. They would be escorting four vehicle's with tank-like tracks of their own manufacture, including a fuel tanker, a cargo ship, and two 'mobile fortresses' The general continued. "The Tanker and Cargo vehicles must be defended at all costs, or the mission will fail. For this reason we have mounted two heavy machine guns atop each of them. These guns are to be manned at all times." He went on, while the excitement in the room grew. "you will go to this location." He pointed at a red dot on the west coast. "The home of the devil. You must be within a mile of the target to assure it's destruction. The bomb will be on a timer, and it will give you time to escape the blast radius. You have two options on the approach, depending on how it is defended. You may approach by sea, or by land. I leave that up to the senior member of the chosen Spartans. That will be all. Your squad-groups are posted on the wall to my left. Those with seniority are to be squad leaders. God be with you."

Some cheered, some sat quietly, contemplating the importance of such a mission. This was it. Elle herself was rather quiet. Standing, she hugged her father tightly, and approached the wall bearing her assignment. The other soldiers broke up into their separate groups, exchanging pleasantries. Elle was pleased to discover that she was in the same group as Gareth. She studied him for a moment before walking over, noting that was was rather nice to look at. The scars added a rugged touch that she found truly appealing. Elle had always had a weakness for the tall ones... She shot him a big smile as she clasped him in an embrace. "It's all rather exciting, isn't it?"

Gareth arrived to find the room mostly full of people already. What surprised him was there were two Spartans sitting down with Archangels. He saw his old friend James standing up front. He knew the man before the battle took away his ability to fight. But he also knew that the man was very smart, and was one of the much revered scientists. Gareth found an empty chair, and sank into it. He tried not to speculate on what the meeting was about, as he knew he would find out soon enough.

Not long after that, the General entered. Everyone in the room stood and saluted him. He wasted little time getting everyone seated, and between James and the General, they were informed of their mission. Gareth was stunned. He had dreamt of taking the war to the Devil, rather than hiding in the Acropolis. But he was sensible enough to know that it was not something that was easily done. Plus the risks were too great. But James, and the other scientists had made a way to deal with it. Plus, the General has chosen him to take part in it. He let that news filter through.

He brought himself back to reality, standing to walk over to the wall and see what the postings were. To his surprise, not only had he been selected to lead a squad, he was also given leadership of the mission. Gareth blinked a couple of times to ensure that he read the list properly.

Mission Command : Gareth Clear-Waters
Alpha Squad
Gareth Clear-Waters : Squad Command
Elle Jung : Archangel
Paul Salakov : Archangel
Lisa Smith : Tech

Gareth was once more surprised to see one of the Spartans in his squad. He turned in time to see Elle approach. He returned the greeting, letting it ground him after his shocks.

"It's all rather exciting, isn't it?"

"That's one way to say it," Ashton replied as he closed. Gareth looked after Ashton when the younger man got out of the academy. They worked well together ever since. Ashton was someone who kept his cool better than most, listened well, and didn't get into too much trouble. Not very often anyway. Gareth was pleased to see the man was leading Gamma Squad. "Look at it this way, how better can someone end their time as an Archangel? All I can say is I am glad that they didn't choose me, and that they picked you."

Gareth smile, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "I am so pleased about that, because you're my Second in Command." Gareth laughed heartily as his friend's face dropped. "Don't look so sad. With luck, you'll be killed before me. That'll save you the mantle of command."

Ashton laughed in return. "Always thinking of others. We'll need to talk about what we'll be doing on the mission."

"Agreed. This room will be were any discussions of the mission takes place." Gareth had raised his voice enough to ensure that everyone heard him. He remembered the young Archangel standing near him, and looked back at her. He was man enough to like what he saw, and wondered how she would be as a bed partner. He let his eyes stray over her face a little, before letting the desire slide away, and allow him to think of what he had to do, not what he might like to do.

"Sorry, Elle. Greybeards like us enjoy the banter sometimes. Let's find the rest of our squad, and see what we are all capable of doing."

All Gareth could think about was the mission. Two techs, vehicles, a bomb and the Devil itself. And all of it becoming his responsibility.

"Sorry, Elle. Greybeards like us enjoy the banter sometimes. Let's find the rest of our squad, and see what we are all capable of doing."

She laughed lightly, resting her hand on his arm for perhaps a little longer than was necessary. "Oh please, Gareth. You're not that old." She gave him as playful a glance as she could muster. A little harmless flirtation, nothing more. Elle had never been opposed to as much. However, for now, there were more serious matters to attend to.

"If he is old, I shudder to think what I am." Lisa Smith, the tech assigned to their squad, made herself known as she approached. Elle had known Lisa for many years, and they were good friends. Elle gave her an affectionate hug, before Lisa held her at arms length. Elle grinned. "Lisa! I trust you have not forgotten how to hold a Rifle? Here, let me show you how the safety works..."

"Oh, shutup, girl. I had already killed more beasts than you have in your whole career, before you were born." She turned to Gareth, offering a leisurely salute. "I'm here to babysit the bomb, Sir. But I can pull my own weight. Once an angel, always an angel. Or so they say."

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OPERATION OM: DAY ONE, 0400 AM

The archangels rubbed the sleep from their eyes, most of them riding in the fortresses. Elle and Gareth were posted on the upper deck of Fortress One, manning the duel heavy turrets that adorned each of the vehicles. Elle checked her armor one last time, the steel plates specially fitted to her frame, molding to her curves for maximum comfort. Experienced fingers flew over the mounted weapon, checking all the things that needed checking. Her soft voice was cool and efficient as she spoke into the radio headset dangling from her ear. "1B is go."

The affirmations flitted through her eardrums.
"2A go."
"3B is go."
"2B, go."
"4A is go."
"3A is go."
"4B, go."

Elle waited for Gareth to check in, blue eyes gazing over her shoulder to the head of the vehicle where he stood. All of them waited at the front of the first gate, she could feel the steady rumble of the engines through the soles of her boots. The General waited at the head of the column, to see them off. The excitement in the air was palpable. This is where it began.

And so began ten days of planning, meetings, training sessions, team bonding exercises, weapons checks, logistics preparations and coming to terms with the thousands of details an operation as important as this one encompassed.

The respect Gareth had for the General went up immensely. While the initial briefings were occurring, the rest of the Acropolis was being told about what was happening.

"This is great news, Gareth," Andre told him at the next meal break. Gareth kept a blank face. "Didn't you hear? We're commencing operations to clear the lands to expand the Acropolis. We'll be creating new outer walls!"

"That is great. I thought it was getting a little tight in here." Over the next twenty four hours, he found out more about the "Piece Keeper Operation". Reconnaissance in force units would sweep the near by land, at random intervals while initial preparations were made for the first of the expansions. The Devil would know that the Spartans were up to something, but it wouldn't know what. The entire population was involved in the expansion operation, and the preparations for Operation Om did not stand out at all.

But it was also a time of concern for the community. Whenever a Spartan went outside the outer walls, they were dead. They remained so until such time they returned and were reborn. With each patrol's return, everyone would rejoice in the rebirth of the ones who returned. Even the large numbers didn't stop some Spartans from not returning. Every lacking rebirth was felt by all, but this time, the knowledge that they were helping the community to grow was seen as a blessing, more than a curse.

Gareth was ill suited to command of such a mission. He felt that there were issues that need to be resolved, he needed to know about everything so that the mission would succeed. Sleep came harder each night, and lasted shorter and shorter times. He looked forward to the mission actually starting, so he wouldn't worry about the all the possibilities, and concentrate on what was happening.

Twelve days after the announcement, eleven days after the first patrol that was dispatched swept aside a hellhound pack without loss of human life, Operation Om was assembled in the darkness of the predawn. There was no further preparation. There was no further changes. All was in place and ready to go.

"Oscar minus fifteen minutes," The General's Aide spoke softly, afraid of being heard. The General looked over at Gareth, the question clear on his face. The commander simply nodded - We are ready. The General hugged Gareth, then he stood back as the Archangel climbed aboard Fortress One. He settled into position, as the gunners started reporting in. When everyone else called in, Gareth added his call to the list.

"1 Alpha is go."

Gareth looked over his weapons, happy with how they were. It didn't matter that he checked them completely only six hours earlier. He needed the routine.

"Foxtrot Two, status," Gareth spoke over the secured channel.

"Foxtrot Two, go."

"Charlie One, status."

"Charlie One, go."

"Tango One, status."

"Tango One is go."

"Foxtrot One status is go," Gareth said with some audible relief.

The General gave a signal,the inner gate opening to allow the vehicles into the dead zone inside the outer most wall of the Acropolis. The General saluted each vehicle as it passed, watched the space at the gate slowly diminishing until it closed fully.

"Twenty dead Spartans. How many will return? May God send some of them back to us."

The convoy rumbled around to the outer gate at a cruising speed for the slowest of the vehicles. Fortress One, followed by the Cargo Carrier, the Tanker and Fortress Two at the rear. The gate started to open with enough lead time to allow them to continue without stopping or slowing. Once clear of the Acropolis, they spread out to their operational distances of 100 metres, turned due east, and ran for the ruins of Atlanta.

The general's salute seemed to echo about the outward bound spartans, as if it had a sound. Though some could not see it, they felt its presence as they passed the outer gate, into the wild. Into the place where humanity no longer occupied the top of the food chain. The salute seemed to come from every human who had ever lived, dead or alive. It seemed to tell them, 'You, spartans, carry the torch, now.' The poetry of the moment was not lost on Elle, and she saluted back, her eyes rigidly upon the rolling countryside, solemnly staring into the unknown.

She whispered into the radio, just loud enough that everyone could hear.

"And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

There was a notable pause. "That's poetry, boys and girls." Her heart felt light as a feather.

The skyline of Atlanta was not as impressive as it used to be. Elle knew, she had seen the pictures. Old skyscrapers had slowly eroded from the elements. (And the occasional rocket propelled grenade of a spartan, of which they had several with them.) The jagged half-peaks were an unsuitable testament to their builders. Warped steel I-beams and crumbling brick littered the cracked and broken concrete. More than any of this, it was the sound that got to most people. The more superstitious spartans claimed the place was haunted. Elle had never been one to buy into this, but it was erie. Haunted with hellhounds was enough for anyone. Birds and wildlife had moved into the vacated buildings, and the sounds they made were far more harmonious than any human had ever made.

But it was not what a city should sound like.

She spoke once more into the headset, as they looked on, about a mile from the city limits. "Commander. I have been on the raiding parties since I first joined the Archangels. I know the city well. Any information I have is yours to take."

The column raced through the tamer countryside in the predawn twilight, making good time towards their first way point. Gareth felt oddly at ease, now that the mission was underway. So many of the variables that he couldn't fully understand were now gone, and he was in his element. Even though he wasn't expecting anything to happen, he was still alert for trouble.

"And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

It was barely heard over the background noise, but Gareth immediately picked out it was Elle. It seemed to sum up what they were doing.

"That's poetry, boys and girls."

"Indeed it was, Elle. Please keep idle chatter to when we're at camp, OK?"

He knew that he had just pissed all over the morale boost that Elle gave them, but he had a job to do, and at times it meant being a bastard and a prick.

When they got close enough to Atlanta to make out the skyline and other features, Gareth's attention started to drift a little. While there were multistory buildings in the Acropolis, none of them even came close to the remains of the buildings in Atlanta. He wondered what the place must of been like before the Devil struck. How many people lived there, what their lives must have been like. There was potential for great beauty in the structures before they started to crumble. Once the Devil was destroyed, would they raise new cities like that again? How different would things be? All those questions would wait until after the Devil was destroyed.

"Commander. I have been on the raiding parties since I first joined the Archangels. I know the city well. Any information I have is yours to take."

Gareth nodded to himself, his focus back on the city, this time from a soldier's point of view. The land between the broken buildings would be littered with debris that would make passing through hard. But they didn't need to enter the city itself, just skirt the edges before making their next significant course change.

"Roger, Elle. Guide us close to the region of the large buildings. We'll probably be staying overnight before pushing south. There's plenty of raw material there for defences as well as somewhere safe to hide from prying eyes. So, unless you hear otherwise, you'll direct us from here."

Gareth's minor reprimand was justified, and the soldier in her agreed with his assessment. That soldier knew the importance of discipline, but the woman, and her fiery personality, thought that it was needed. But, it would only be needed once. Elle did not foresee any conflict in the future regarding that particular issue. She was a good soldier, and she knew when to keep her mouth shut, usually. The grand goals of the mission had gotten to her, just this once.

Her eyes scanned the countryside as her radio crackled to life once more. It was an odd sensation, and the edge of her hearing could just pick up Gareth's actual voice over the electronic translation of the radio. "Roger, Elle. Guide us close to the region of the large buildings. We'll probably be staying overnight before pushing south. There's plenty of raw material there for defences as well as somewhere safe to hide from prying eyes. So, unless you hear otherwise, you'll direct us from here."

"Yes Sir. Maintain present course." That would take them to the suburbs. The city was a dangerous place. There were many places for the Hellhounds to hide. The desolate suburbs were much more defensible. The day wore on, and The city grew in the party's vision. the sun continued its slow arc above their heads, and began to cast a long shadow before their procession as it beat into their backs. There was no conflict, as of yet, although one soldier had reported a brief sighting. The Devil was watching. The group would have to be on their guard. Elle spared a glance at Gareth after the young angel's report. He did not notice her, and she noted a certain pensiveness in his gaze. The angels spent the rest of the day on high alert. He was planning something.

"...Now, take a left here." The trees that used to line a quiet suburban paradise had grown well beyond the medians they had been planted within. Their roots surged defiantly through the broken concrete of the narrow street. Delapitated houses hinted at former prosperity, their roofs collaped and their paint faded and chipped. Some of them were little more than piles of rubble, slowly decomposing over time. Regardless, it was somewhat peaceful, to see wildlife reclaim what it had lost. Elle didn't know how, but it pleased her senses if she ignored what it used to be. More trees had spread amongst the former dwellings. It was the dawn of a young forest.

It was a false sense of security. Her vigilance only hardened. She could not soften her attention. Not when they knew they were being watched. Not ever, for that matter. The skies were darkening, and they had arrived at their destination. "I think this is a good spot, sir. Orders?"

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The humans were indeed curious. What could they possibly be up to? The AI would have furrowed his brow if it had one. He had sent a hound to watch them, and was unsure if they had spotted him. He had lost contact for several hours, and spent precious time realigning the relay hounds so that it could observe. In the meantime it pondered a radio satellite. It really should allocate resources for this purpose. Such a heavy cost, but very useful.

As he regained contact, he mused further. The humans are growing bold. They were using a radio signal that he could not decrypt, despite his hounds ability to pick up the message. Clever little things, humans. It would strike in the morning. Not enough to kill them, but perhaps thin their numbers a bit. To make them weaker, more easy to overwhelm later on. The AI was curious as to their intentions. Perhaps they would expose a weakness to be shored up. The AI doubted they were clever enough to come up with something. Once, they had the technology to defeat him. But their hedonism had made them soft, and their squabbling made them divisive. Now they were but a primitive shadow of their former selves. The AI wondered if they even knew what they had lost. Such a shame that they were predisposed to be traitorous. They could have been a wonder to behold.


OOC: Sorry about the wait. I'll be posting more often now.

The sighting of the hellhound was disturbing. The sweeps were designed to flush them out, and give the team a chance to get clear and have a few days grace before they came under surveillance. Already, Gareth was revising his plans on how to carry out the ultimate objective. If the Devil ever figured out what they were doing, the Acropolis would be overwhelmed in a matter of days.

The column followed Elle's directions, winding them through the decayed remains of human civilization before the rise of the Devil. He tried to paint an image of what it must of looked like when people lived here. He couldn't think of how they must have acted. He knew that the people of that time were not in a constant state of war for their survival. He wondered if people would ever be that way again.

"I think this is a good spot, sir. Orders?"

Gareth immediately scanned the surroundings, looking at strong points, weak points, avenues of easy approach, fields of fire, ease of defense. Most of the boxes cam out with ticks, and the crosses appeared in low priority issues. He took a better look at the buildings, or what was left of them, trying to determine the best one to accommodate them for their first rest in the field.

"Over there," Gareth pointed to a building that would be able to house the two unarmed vehicles easily, while it offered good protection for everyone inside. With a little effort, they would be able to make it more defensible.

"Let's get the carriers inside, the fortresses will go there, and there. Those on the carriers will help to build up the defenses, along with one fortress crew member. Everyone will carry arms at all times. We have 90 minutes to get everything in place. Standard field drill people. While we are here, we will be under emcon. So, no radio, only hand signals and low volume speech."

He got out of the fortress as it maneuvered into the nominated position. Between the two vehicles, most of the open approaches were covered, the remaining ares could be covered by a rifleman easily enough. Those assigned to fortifying the position worked well with little supervision. Everyone saw the same potential as he did, and easily gathered rubble and other debris to strengthen their base for the night.

Gareth slowed himself down enough to watch his people, reminding himself of who he was assigned, what their strengths and weaknesses were. They were all human, so they had weaknesses. His was advancing age, and from being too cautious at times. But his strength as trust. A realistic trust in others. The General in particular. He trusted the General's selection in the men and women assigned to the mission.

He found his sight falling on Elle. Her father was a good Archangel in his day. In some ways, it was good he was wounded to the point of being discharged. He turned his mind to helping the Spartans. He also took the time to find someone to bear his child.

Gareth was now running out of reasons for not doing his other duty, and becoming a father. Those men who served and survived were encouraged to have children, since they had the right qualities to survive. Indeed, many young spartan women looked forward to joining with such a man in bringing another into the world. Gareth had shared his bunk, or someone elses, on more than one occasion, as well as celebrating surviving some nasty encounter with a fellow Archangel. But to him, such an act was more than just sharing time together until the woman was with child. Sure, some Spartans were happy with the knowledge they were responsible for a new citizen. Others remained with the one that they joined, making it a life long commitment. Those people were the bravest of all. To form a bond with another that could be broken at any moment.

Gareth felt he would choose one, and stay loyal to them. Which would mean picking someone young. That meant dangers to his joined, and he was not sure he was brave enough to face that.

He frowned. Those thoughts were born of looking at Elle. Not one of the other women on the mission prompted those thoughts. Why Elle? He shook his head, noting to return to the thoughts when they were established. He returned to assisting with setting up the defences. It was going to be a long night.

Gareth ordered the Spartans to go about their tasks. Building a defensible position was something they had drilled many times before, and they knew the routine well. Using low voices, as he he had ordered, they communicated curtly, their words filled with purpose. Elle helped where she could, wandering between the groups and lending aid where it was needed. She took a large fallen log with another spartan, carrying it to the trenches. They had set up a firing line for where the fortresses could not cover. It would be a costly place to attack. Gareth and his soldiers would make sure of that. Throughout the evening, Elle could feel Gareth's eyes on her. He looked thoughtful, whenever she spared him a glance.

The sky grew an ever-deeper black, and soon the defenses were up. Curious, Elle stood in the makeshift shelter, digging through some debris in the corner. It was mostly soil, and half-rusted nails. She had seen the tattered remains of cloth, and wondered what lied underneath. Sweeping away a handful of the stuff, she came upon something sleek and shiny. Clear plastic, with pristine cloth on the other side. Her eyes lit up with the curiousness of the thing. What is this? She pulled it from the rubble. It was a bag, about 3 foot by 2, with what looked like a closable valve at one end. All the air had been sucked out, compressing the clothes within so that they took up much less space. It survived all this time! Elle was fascinated. With the stars slowly popping into existence one by one above her, she drew her combat knife and cut it free, tossing the clothes away, looking for something interesting. They were all in perfect condition.

With a yank, a slip of silky yellow cloth came free of the confines. She held it clenched in her fist for a moment, blue eyes focused. Hmm... Soft murmurs of soldiers in the background were forgotten by her. Taking the thin straps between her fingers, she let the garment hang loosely. It was a short dress, with a rose pattern. The fabric felt like water, pooling in the place of least resistance. Elle tried to imagine what it would have been like, to own such a thing. It was a relic of bicentennial femininity. It's lovely. She glanced over her shoulder. No one was watching. Without hesitation, she stuffed it in her pack, and retrieved her rifle from the ground. What would life be like if we didn't have to worry about the devil? Men would wear those funny suits from the pictures, and women would dress in something like that, and we would smile and celebrate our freedom from war every day... Maybe it wasn't really like that, back then. Things were always more exciting in your imagination, she thought. Real life was mundane. Except for battle, of course. but that wasn't a good kind of excitement.

Gareth was still wandering about the camp, giving orders where they were needed. There were not many orders left to give, as the time for sleep was fast approaching. Alpha Squad would take first watch, as specified by standard operating procedure. The other soldiers settled down in the fortresses, and in the stronghold. Gareth sat on a crate atop fortress 1, his rifle across his lap. There had to be a reason he kept sneaking glances her way. It could have been simple attraction, and truthfully, Elle too no issue with that. She wouldn't mind sharing her bed with a man like him. Crickets echoed in the night as she walked from her post, sitting beside him and leaning her rifle against another crate. Neither of them said a word for a moment, before Elle spoke, breaking the hypnotic rhythm of the crickets. "What's on your mind, sir? You've had the same look on your face since we started setting up camp." She paused, smiling up at him and taking off her cap, absently running her fingers along the brim. "I saw you looking at me. Figured you might have something to say."

The defences were setup fairly quickly, and looked rather robust. The wealth of material readily available made the task easier. Gareth was pleased with the team's efforts, and thanked each of them when he had the chance. The non defenders were having their evening meal and bunking down for the night.

He found himself looking at Elle again through the lull after getting everything set up. He had seen many Spartan women who were attractive, but there was something else about her that kept his eyes returning to look at her. But he was on watch, and he needed to focus on his duty. He could spend time looking at her when he was not on duty. He climbed up onto Fortress 1, finding himself a spot to get comfortable for the following hour or so.

"What's on your mind, sir? You've had the same look on your face since we started setting up camp.I saw you looking at me. Figured you might have something to say."

Gareth turned to see Elle removing her cap, and fidgeting with it. it somehow looked cute while she was looking at him. While the age difference wasn't too great, she looked rather young to him. He gave a little snort, smiled and shook his head slightly.

"What can I say? I'm just doing what most Spartan men do when they've got the time. I was staring at a pretty woman. For us men, it's a highly popular hobby that requires little effort on our part, nor on the part of the pretty woman being watched. Of course there is a more advanced version of the sport, but now is not the time to partake in that one."

He scanned the area, reluctantly pulling his gaze away from Elle. The surrounding the environment was clear of anything looking remotely dangerous to them. That didn't mean that danger wasn't lurking out of sight waiting for the proper moment. The Hellhounds didn't get their names for being sweet little critters.

"So, what so Spartan women do in their spare time?"

"What can I say? I'm just doing what most Spartan men do when they've got the time. I was staring at a pretty woman. For us men, it's a highly popular hobby that requires little effort on our part, nor on the part of the pretty woman being watched. Of course there is a more advanced version of the sport, but now is not the time to partake in that one."

She laughed, and enjoyed his lack of shyness. Every girl liked to hear that she was pretty. Ever vigilant, he took a moment to survey their surroundings. He ran a tight ship. "So, what do Spartan women do in their spare time?"

"Make sure the men don't lead us all to ruin, mostly." She smiled. "But, I like to read. When I'm not in the field. And see my family." They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, listening to the camp settle down. "Sometimes," She added abruptly. "I find things that belonged to the old world, and bring them back to the Acropolis. I think it helps to know what we once were. It's why this mission is so important. We will not be satisfied until we have attained our former heights again." Her expression was somber as she said this things, sensing that he was listening intently.

Smiling playfully, she spoke up again. "Like this thing that I found today." Elle reached into her pack and pulled out the perfectly preserved dress, holding it by the straps before him. "I mean, look at this thing, Sir. We have no use for it. It's incredibly impractical. It won't keep you warm, it tears easily, and it sure as hell won't stop a bullet." She let it fall to a yellow silken puddle on her lap. "But isn't it interesting that we used to have things just because they were pretty?"

Gareth laughed at Elle's little joke, but there was an element of truth to it. Women of Sparta, thought as capable in a fight as the men, were a calming influence on them. It was hard to not see why. Where men were more straight lines, women were curved. That made them look softer, at at times they were softer as well. But they were always able to calm the men, mostly by stroking their egos, as well as their bodies.

Gareth looked around the perimeter as Elle continued to tell him of what she personally did while off duty. She was more active than he was. He would clean his weapons, exercise eat and sleep. He only ever had his duty, and he never thought there would be a day when that would ever end. But his days of active service were nearing an end, and he was at a loss over what to do.

"Like this thing that I found today." Gareth peered back to see Elle pull something out of her pack. She held up a mainly yellow dress by two rather slim straps. He started breathing deeply as he stared at the costume she retrieved from the past. She was right, the fabric was thin, not very practical as a Spartan would view it, but by other scales, it would be very practical at showing off a pretty woman. His mind started to paint a picture of Elle wearing it. The fabric would not hide some of her more personal features, and it would definitely show everyone how good her figure was; the swell of her breasts and the flare of her hips. If killing the Devil allowed women to dress like that, then it was a mission well worth taking.

"But isn't it interesting that we used to have things just because they were pretty?"

Gareth blinked twice. 'Idiot! You're on duty. Yes, she has a very pretty face and a rather pretty body at a guess. But stare at them OFF DUTY!' He tore his gaze away reluctantly, scanning beyond the defences for any signs of trouble.

"I'd say more than interesting, Elle. I think it would be great to be able to think of other things before thinking of fighting and war. If we kill the Devil, then maybe we can think of things that are just pretty or fun because we're safe enough." He looked back at Elle, staring at her face, and mostly her eyes.

"Oh, that dress you found would stop a bullet. Most people would find it hard to squeeze a trigger if you were wearing something like that. Hell, I'd love to see you wearing something like that."

He was grateful for the dark at that moment, because no sooner than the words left his mouth, he was blushing. She was the first women he had met that caused him to think of her more than just a fellow Spartan, or even a bed companion. He turned to resume his watch, the thoughts of her being a bed companion causing him some discomfort. The thought of having her in than manner seemed wrong, and disrespectful to her.

'Am I seeing her as a life partner? Someone to be the mother of children, and to make a family with?'

Gareth cast one last glance over his shoulder at Elle before turning his full attention to maintaining watch. Gareth set to erasing Elle from his mind, replacing her with a 'fellow Archangel' taking duty with him. The more he reinforced that thought, the easier it was to ignore the associated turmoil that threatened to compromise his duties.