BGM - In Universe
♫ Some folks are born, made to wave the Flag♫
♫Oooh they're red, white and blue!♫
♫And when the band plays 'Hail to the Chief'---♫
"God dammit, Schafer. Why do you always make us listen to this ancient-ass music? Can't we play something else over the net?" I hear my pilot groan from the cockpit of my dropship. I hadn't exactly noticed the music playing over the local net. Some ancient song from before the Dark Ages. Schafer, the pilot of one of the other dropships in my group, happens to be a connoisseur of antique music. I've been more concerned with... staring blankly out the window at the early Nevada Sunrise. The day's new light casts a steep shadow across the desert, barely illuminating the sands. Something about it just kind of resonates with me, puts me at ease, you know?
"Hey man, do you know how rare this track is? It's a damned miracle it even survived the Dog Years," Dog Years was a bit of slang I recognized. It was basically a lazy way of referring to the Dark Ages, "I might even have the last copy of this song in the world!"
The inside of my dropship, Raska 3-2, is relatively quiet and still. My friends - my... team - are all checking their gear and brushing up on the intel for this op. I've neglected to do so until now. Maybe I should give it a once over before the chief calls the drop.
"Raska 3-3, if you don't turn that shit down, I'm gonna plant you on that control stick and fly your Condor myself," The platoon commander growls over the net as he tries to clear traffic for the in-flight briefing.
"Five-by-Five, Sir." I hear Schafer respond, disappointed.
"That's what I thought. Alright Raska 3. G.O.D. big heads have us out here to do one thing and one thing only. Put down an insurrection looking to destabilize the region while Morkt is busy in the East. Innies are a couple hundred strong, so that's why Lord Foucault is having G.O.D. send Raska instead of a Guardian Angel team. Too many psychos down there for a small op. That's where the Angels come in. Raska 1 and Raska 2 are on separate deployments in the Canadian wilds, so we're on our own here.
"So what's the plan, Chief? Gen-Oh make any tactical suggestions?" one of my teammates, a young woman with short dirty blonde hair, asks over the net, shifting her weapon in her lap. G.O.D. and "Gen-Oh" were shorthand terms for the "General Operations Division" which handled most Angel deployments.
"Well," the platoon commander starts, "the area the innies are camped out in is surrounded by plateaus, so Gen-Oh recommends a heavy duty wake up call, that's you 3-3. After the initial salvo is finished, 3-1 and 3-2 will proceed on foot while 3-3 and 3-4 provide sniper support from the plateaus. 3-2 Actual!"
I snap to attention, "Sir?"
"I want your team pushing hard here. I want to make it back home for lunch today, you hear?"
"Sir."
"Alright, Raska 3. We touch down in---"
The platoon commander is cut off by the blaring of incoming alarms within the dropships. He screams over the net, "What the hell is going on!? Give me a Sitrep NOW!"
Suddenly a series of explosions rocks my transport violently, sending my team and I stumbling over and onto the floor of the Condor. I strike my head on the floor fairly hard, disorienting me momentarily.
"Raska 3-3 is down! They're going in hard! They're on fi---"
A second explosion cuts out the rest of my pilot's transmission, but from the sound of it, I can gather that Schafer's transport has just exploded. I hear someone else screaming over the net as more and more explosions erupting in the sky around us shake the entire structure of the ship.
"All wings, evasive action! Gain altitude! Get out of their range!"
"This is Raska 3-4! My starboard engine is damaged, I can't climb!
"Where the hell did they come from?!"
"How did they know we were coming!?"
Chaos fills the local net as I try to pick myself up before one decisive explosion rips off the port side door of my Condor. One of my men flies out through the gap as our ship begins to spin out of control, the blonde girl from before turns to me and reaches out her hand, holding tightly to an emergency handle.
"Phenom! Phenom! Wake up! Phenom!"
Orbit Above Earth
Heaven - Space Station - Guardian Angel Academy Main Auditorium
1500 Hours GMT - November 28th
"Phenom. Phenom! Phen, you jackass, wake UP!"
Phenom jolts awake in his chair, "What!? What!? I'm awake! Who..?! Oh... Lachesis.. it's just you... Wh.. what time is it? Is it almost time for me to go on stage?"
"Almost. Dreaming about your D-Day, again, huh?" Lachesis asks, leaning on a nearby column. D-Day was another piece of slang that had recently made its way into the vernacular. Unlike the historical beach landing from centuries back, this new term was used to describe the day and Anomaly's abilities were either developed or discovered. Phenom's time was... violent, to say the least.
"Yeah, how'd you know?"
"Phen, I've known you my entire life... I can tell. Plus, you're crying. And you don't cry." She pointed out. She bent over, hand outstretched, and wipe the tears from Phenom's eyes with her thumb. "You're too hard headed to show your emotions properly when you're conscious."
"Thanks, mom," Phenom scoffed tiredly, "Yeah. it was the usual. Thanks for waking me by the way."
"That'ssss my job!" Lachesis replied with a smile, "Now get back on your feet, kid. Go out there and show that crowd what you're made of. Just don't tell them you wrote your own script this time," she said, grinning mischievously.
Phenom groaned slightly at Lachesis's ribbing and straightened his ceremonial gown as the speaker on the stage began to announce him.
"...And without further ado, it is my great honor to introduce to you all, Lord Phenom Ortus!"
A thunderous applause echoes the crowd, and Phenom takes takes the stage. He surveys the crowd before him. 'Huh.... not as big as last years crowd. Oh well.'. As he somewhat slowly shambles to the podium before him, he begins to wonder what might have caused the lower turnout in crowd members. Perhaps it was nothing. He takes his place at the podium and looks up, beginning to open his mouth.
“Is that really Phenom? He looks so… run down.” someone whispers from the crowd of Guardian Angel graduates.
At this, Phenom stops and cocks his hand, pointing to the source of the whisper.
“I heard that,” he quips weakly, lacking conviction. This prompts a small chuckle from the audience before he waves them down.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen of Heaven, and welcome to tonight’s induction ceremony!”
He sighs briefly, as if that one sentence alone exhausted him of all of his energy. He hangs his head for just a moment before perking back up with a sharp inhale, as if his coffee had just hit him. One might notice a glint of life shining in his dark eyes now, revealing that they are in fact a very shocking blue, though he seems to be staring vacantly ahead of him.
“It has been a long and arduous thirteen years since the resolution of the Morkt Crisis. Weird name, I know. Don’t ask me, I didn’t name him,” this draws a few scattered chuckles, but he continues, “When I took up the mantle of Lord seven years ago, I made a vow to all of you. A vow to make sure we would have the best, the brightest, and the bravest that we could find working around the clock to return Earth to prosperity.”
He turns his gaze up to the larger crowd in the back, behind the graduating class, “And ever since that day, my staff and I have done everything in our power to make sure the surface had the support and resources that it needs, all while maintaining our secrecy from the world. My predecessor was far too keen on maintaining our Laissez-Faire policy of intervention in the world below, and we’ve all seen how that turned out. But tonight, we are not here to disparage relics of the past.”
A few more scattered chuckles punctuate his statement as he continues, his voice now echoing throughout the auditorium.
“Tonight, we are here to celebrate the induction of this years ‘Best, Brightest, and Bravest.’ Tonight, we have gathered to welcome the warriors before me, young and old alike, into the esteemed ranks of the Guardian Angels. These fine men and women have gone through some of the most gruelling training that we as an organization can offer, in an effort to crush coal into diamonds. And looking at them today, I feel I can comfortably say that we have succeeded.”
“Please,” he shouts out, a bit removed from the microphone, “join me in welcoming into the fold… our new Guardian Angels!”
The crowd behind erupts into applause, and Phenom steps back to the row of military commanders and high level officials behind him as the graduation ceremony began in earnest.
Orbit Above Earth
Heaven - Space Station - Phenom's Personal Quarters
1700 GMT
"UUUUUGH IT'S FINALLY OVER!" Phenom groaned deeply as he threw himself down onto the bed in his personal quarters, Lachesis following shortly behind him. He stared out his window at the inky abyss surrounding the space station that he'd called home for the past 20 years of his life, pondering the enormity of it all, and his own undeniable insignificance.
"Lachesis?" Phenom began as the girl took a seat at the table nearby, "You ever question if the work we do is worth it? I mean... just look at... all that nothing out there."
"Phen, you're waxing philosophical again. Have you been getting enough sleep?" Lachesis chided. She knocked on the wall beside her and a panel opened up, revealing a stash of drinks within. She fished out a bottled soft drink and knocked on the wall again.
"No. With Morkt Syndrome out and about, how can I? We still don't know what it is, and every time we've brought a patient in, any trace of the infection is gone before we can figure something out." Phenom groaned in defeat. Morkt Syndrome was a new psychological affliction that caused people to suddenly lose control of themselves. Normally rational and reasonable people would turn into psychopaths overnight, and many would leave a trail of corpse's in their wake. Its infection method was unknown, but the rate was extremely slow for the time being, mostly being limited to elders and the already mentally frail. It was named after the mad scientist of years past for the fact that some patients expressed sympathy for the madman, some even espousing his ideals of terracide.
"You spend too much time up. Keep poring over those books and you're gonna collapse on the job!" Lachesis began to take a swig of the drink she had procured, setting it down on the table. At the same time, she used her free hand to swipe over the table, summoning a hardlight keyboard and screens. "Look, Phen. We've got a situation brewing in Appalachia. More of the same. Strays setting up shop and muscling in on other people. Extortion, control, raiding, larceny." Lachesis flipped through a multitude of screens as she spoke, sailing a number over to Phenom for him to inspect more closely, "We caught this group early, though. Looks like they've only managed to set up one major base camp, and have only gained a few dozen recruits."
"Set up a GA team to deploy and clear it out. I'd prefer to keep the Eastern US as stable as possible," Phenom groaned tiredly, "I'll get ready for the briefing."
"Ooooooooooooh no," Lachesis insisted, "You're going to sleep. I can handle the briefing. I'll take care of this and stop by the store for something to eat, alright?"
"Steak please..."
"Steak it is. Get some sleep, I'll be back in a couple of hours."