FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The tall Drakkaren nodded, finding himself thinking back to what he'd said earlier as Albatross stood and tossed both twins a significant look, making them mutter as they returned their cleavers to their backs... and then the blue-scaled Dragokkaren smiled a bit and nodded as the doctor left the room and Huck leaned down to mutter something to Churchill: "Let's get going. We've got a good tour to go on, I think, and there'll probably be plenty of people interested in talking to you, too, Lord Zerrex."

For a moment, the reptile paused... then he nodded back and followed Albatross outside after snagging his backpack from the table, the twins taking up the rear and both shooting venomous glances over their shoulders at Churchill before the doors swung closed. The blue-scaled Dragokkaren gave them both a significant look, and they muttered irritably in tandem before both bowed a bit, then looked at Zerrex with much warmer eyes. "We have to go change out of our armor and write up our status reports to submit to the council later... but we'll see you around, Lord Zerrex, perhaps visit your quarters tonight, once things settle down, and ensure that you're comfortable here."

"We'll do all we can to help you and support you, Master." Shine added, and the two bowed deeply again before both leaned up to kiss either cheek, then they turned and walked away, both tossing winks over their shoulders. Zerrex coughed a bit at this, then turned around and made a face at Albatross, who was shaking his head in disbelief.

"What?" he asked mildly, and the one-eyed reptile rolled his lavender iris and then turned away with a laugh, motioning over his shoulder for the Drakkaren to follow. Zerrex did so, feeling a bit nonplussed as he shook his head slowly and caught up quickly to Albatross, as they walked down a long hallway, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and suddenly having a terrible feeling that he was in high school all over again. "So uh... have I made a bad first impression?"

"The worst." The eyepatched Dragokkaren paused and glanced up at Zerrex with a grin and a wink. "But I think I like you nonetheless. You seem to know what you're doing, and I like that... plus you've got balls, which is even better. Just watch yourself around our esteemed Colonel Churchill though, huh?" He paused and turned a bit more serious as they walked down a hallway, slipping past a few milling soldiers and exchanging nods: Zerrex was already hating the way they were looking at him, almost with admiration or awe. "He might be an asshole and a vainglorious, self-obsessed bastard, but he's the figurehead of the army... or at least used to be." Albatross looked around mildly as they passed into a more-pleasant mess-hall type area, with large tables, good lighting and a nice atmosphere provided by a stereo playing some music from one corner of the room, the half-dead potted plants, and the peeling green wallpaper.

Sure, maybe it looked like crap to an outsider... but after you spent hundreds of days, thousands of hours in warfare, battle, and hiding out underground or inside an otherwise locked-down, secure, and sterile facility? It was like a touch of paradise... just like how one's own bed and a blanket, however lumpy the first and thinned-out the second, turned into a sanctuary. It was also the reason that the crammed-up, pissed-off rebels fought so much harder than the soldiers in the big, comfy bases, too, whenever their home terrain was attacked: you weren't fighting for just your friends and family, but fighting to keep the enemy out, to stop them from perverting the few places you could go to get away from the bloodshed and the hell.

Zerrex, however, winced at the looks he was getting, and the words that Albatross had just used... they were looking at him like he was a god descended from above, when he had more similarities with the opposite number. A lot more... and he leaned down to the Dragokkaren, muttering quietly to him: "Hate to break it to you, but I'm no savior... what have all these people heard about me?"

The tactician grinned a bit as his purple eye rolled up to look at Zerrex with a strange, knowing look, but his voice was far softer and gentler than his expression as he said quietly: "We've all heard the same stories... and we all know you fight for the same cause as us, to bring down the Patriarch. For you to have walked out alive after seven years of experimentation is what makes them stare in wonder... for you to be the son of Narrius is what makes them expect great, if terrible, things from you."

"I'm..." What? Not like my father? But I am in so many ways, and perhaps that's what bothers me most of all... but at the same time, I'm nothing like him, and we even seem to live... in entirely different worlds. Zerrex frowned and looked down quietly for a few moments as he tried to think of how to phrase that thought... but then he finally sighed and instead followed Albatross to a pair of double doors leading down another plain hallway.

They went through another door, and up a long flight of stairs... then down another narrow hallway, this one looking dusty and unused. Zerrex looked back and forth, but he felt morbid and even a bit miserable, more alone in this worship he was receiving than if they'd been shunning and hating him... that at least, he could have understood. Then he blinked as Albatross pushed open the door at the end of the hallway and they stepped out onto a long balcony that ran around the walls of a massive, octagonal room that was almost as deep as it was wide, with what looked like a glass ceiling: looking up, the Drakkaren could see soldiers going through training exercises in the room above, which seemed similar to this one, and Albatross murmured: "It's not glass, if you're wondering... it's a type of clear metal, stronger than tempered titanium alloy. The roof above is made of the same stuff... ironically, it's the only thing the Unseen can't see through, along with the hundreds of thermal and other imaging sensors Narrius has at his disposal. It's one-way... the other side looks like plain metal.

"This is the play area." Albatross walked slowly to lean on the guard rail going around the balcony, looking down at the huge area below, which was filled with... all manner of things. It was like looking down on a bazaar or market square, and Zerrex could see everything from classes going on to shops selling products to weight training and martial arts practice. But ninety percent of the plain steel-and-stone enclosed area was filled with kids... kids climbing the fake trees, or resting on the wall, or reading at the desks, or getting their asses handed to them by older punks on the mats or in the small rings. Children of every age... and Zerrex began to snarl, saying he wouldn't be taken in by such a trick, but then stopped at Albatross's expression.

He looked... sad. Misery was too light a word... so was despair. Only the most basic, most simple word could come close to touching on the deep emotions on the scarred reptile's face, as he looked out over the black guardrail and down onto the crowd below, saying quietly: "This is the bottom level of the barracks... this area also doubles as a bomb shelter. There's a shutter that slides in up above so the kids don't have to watch the missiles coming down..." he paused and looked up quietly, hands clenching the guardrail tightly. "We were hit by a raid three weeks ago, by what we call fireflies... bombs that light up the sky, then spread white fire wherever they hit. Used to weaken defenses... we don't know if it was Narrius, or someone from the outside world, who we have no contact with. Only short-range frequencies aren't picked up and immediately tracked to their location now... and all radio contact is monitored by the General Army. Only our customized Battle Communication Radio Interlay System is undetectable... but BaCoRIS only works when units are within five hundred meters of each other.

"We're always under attack... we can't tell the outside world that we're not an enemy lab facility, or that we need support... we have no communication with outsiders, and many here just... hate the world we once mockingly called 'civilized' all the more. They make no attempt to check who they're bombing before they do." He snorted quietly. "Why should they? This is war. The enemy has to be destroyed, right? And collateral isn't just anticipated... it's expected and by some, looked forwards to; they can put a spin on it, blame Narrius, say he was using people as shields or... some other bullshit. It's all political... it's all so everyone looks good and he looks bad, but unfortunately, he doesn't care... and he does a much better job of inspiring control through terror than they do.

"Last year, my... little brother was killed. Nah, not really my sibling..." he smiled faintly, glancing over at Zerrex as the Drakkaren slowly walked up to the railing and looked out over the crowd of people below. "I guess I sort of adopted him. Started training him myself, taught him how to shoot, said he'd be a great asset to our military when he got older... he was only twelve, and my real hope was that he'd never have to face that truth. That by the time he was able to enroll with our other soldiers, the war'd be over, but I guess that's every big brother's dream, huh?" He shook his head slowly and murmured quietly: "The General Army picked up some specific thermal imagery in the jungle, where we thought we were safe... and until last year, we had been. Too many other life-forms, too many other readings that messed up their scanners... and all we ever did was bring the kids out every now and then in small groups to walk around the jungle, to get outside, safe and away from the base and the war zone and the military, we thought.

"Narrius had his army say hello with a full-scale mortar barrage. No survivors of the one hundred and two that went out... twelve volunteers, twenty-four soldiers, the rest children." Albatross shook his head slowly. "It was stupid of us to assume that we were safe... it was a mistake, and that's why we converted this room from a sleep area to a... sort of marketplace, I guess. We'd just finished construction on a new set of underground rooms, anyway... we were able to shift things around a bit in base, make the civilians more comfortable and get our soldiers in better quarters to respond faster." He paused, then turned to Zerrex and looked up at him mildly. "The Patriarch has left us all in Hell. No one has ever survived his raids, and the only reason we're all alive is because he has never attacked our base... not because he doesn't know, but because I don't think he cares to know. Despite how we celebrate our victories, or how we look at each other and say, 'yeah, we're making a difference,' the truth is that to him, we're little more than buzzing flies. We make some noise, we cause some minor annoyance, but in the end, he just has to wave us away... and if he wanted to, he could kill us all in one fell swoop.

"But that's changed now... you've proven by coming here, by showing up, that he's not infallible. He's not invincible, and neither are his soldiers. Killing Iago... which I have no doubt you've done... has likely wounded the morale of his soldiers far more than you or I can imagine; after all, for seven years, they've been almost unchallenged in Hez'Ranna. Then one night, a seven-years-kept-prisoner-and-experiment breaks loose, escapes a locked-down facility with confidential files containing their most precious information, and kills one of the RED. The most elite of the elite, the personal guard of Narrius... and he dies at your hand, along with his entire goddamn army."

Albatross glanced out over the crowd and smiled grimly, then he looked back at Zerrex with the same calm, cold expression, the sadness in his eye turned to bitter hope of revenge. "Enemy soldiers will realize their own mortality... and our own will recognize that we can truly make a difference, and all of Hez'Ranna will contemplate this new turn of events. And yeah, Narrius will attempt to prove his invincibility by hunting us down and attacking us... but for years, we've been preparing silently for this event. When he attacks us, he'll be forced to tip his hand ever so slightly, and it will give us a chance to counterattack his cannons, his military bases, his weapons of destruction, and he may even reveal one or two new weapons he'd been keeping hidden. Even if he wipes this facility off the map, we have enough shielding built between the top levels and the basements that he won't be able to blow us apart with a nuclear bomb... and when he launches an attack against his own country, he'll also reveal the long-hid secret that there are soldiers here, there are rebels here. Other countries may explore, and we might be able to evac the survivors... and maybe finally get some better armament and not have to worry about taking care of all our non-combatants."

"You've been thinking of this a long time." Zerrex said softly, and Albatross looked up at him sharply for a moment... then he gave a faint smile and nodded before turning and murmuring something... either a yes, or saying they should keep going as he headed around the long, circular walk. The Drakkaren followed a few steps behind the Dragokkaren as they headed towards a door, looking down thoughtfully and wondering quietly to himself if Albatross wasn't underestimating Narrius... does he realize that Narrius may already have some contingency plan involved? Or that instead of a miracle or salvation, I may have just brought death and torture for all of them by coming here?

He kept his silence, however, as they walked down through a short, yellow-stone corridor... then took a fork to the right and entered into a large, plain concrete hall, supported here and there by pillars - a few of them had crumbled away, however, and although the debris had been long cleaned up, they hadn't bothered to remove the larger chunks: either the still standing base or up to half the pillar that remained standing tall, in one case. Instead, the cracks though the stonework had been carefully resealed with some kind of cement plaster, and the pillar reconnected with each its top or the wall above by heavy wooden supports they'd put into place to shore up the ceiling and restore support in areas. Albatross laughed a bit as they walked through this air, rolling his shoulders and murmuring: "The damage came from concussive blast tests, probably from one of Narrius's death machines. Ground-shakers... we took a direct hit once and it didn't do much, just cracked the outer armor of the base; we've got layered armor covering everything in this facility, and the soundproofing is so damn thick absorbs the vibrations from the concussive explosives. But when they fired off a few more around the base..." he shook his head slowly and quietly tapped a pillar as they walked by. "Cracked these right apart and a few other first sublevel supports. They're more for looks anyway, but we really don't want people panicking, so we fixed them all up right away."

Then he turned and stepped quickly through another door, and Zerrex followed him through to find himself in a short hallway, before stopping as Albatross paused and glanced up at him with a quiet laugh. "These are your quarters. There's a bathroom, a small storage area which doubles as a security center if you'd like any soldiers in here to guard you, and of course your own small bedroom. These rooms were originally designed for holding a quick-mobilization platoon... so you're going to feel any bomb blasts if they hit nearby, but unless the alarm goes off, try not to worry about it, alright? Narrius often uses this area for weapons testing, although most of his explosives are tested on the other side of the valley, but bombs and other weapons have been known to strike here every now and then."

"Pretty dangerous place... but safe, I suppose." Zerrex nodded a bit, glancing around at the stones for any signs of damage... but even his sharp and trained gaze couldn't pick up any loose stones or cracks, so he figured the armoring over the base was at least fairly secure. So instead of questioning, he turned a bit of a smile to Albatross. "Where are you and the others located?"

"Huck is across the hall from you, and I'm on the other side of the Ring, that big walkway we came in from." The Dragokkaren replied, his lavender eye looking idly over Zerrex before he added: "Take some time, get cleaned up and change, if you want - someone'll likely be along shortly to put new sheets on your bed and fill the dresser with uniforms and some casual clothes in your approximate size - and then I'll be back in about an hour, probably, to take you back to the military facility and put you through a full tour. For now, though, I have to go cover tower detail and then get someone else to take over after my shift."

The Drakkaren nodded, wondering to himself what exactly tower detail meant, but he figured it was better not to start probing too deeply into their military operations yet. Albatross nodded politely to him, then he turned away and headed off through the still-open door, closing it behind him and leaving Zerrex standing alone in the hallway.

It was only a few moments later, however, that found him in the bathroom, running a hot bath for himself in the oversized tub: it looked big enough to seat a group of people, and Zerrex was willing to bet from the four seats that indeed was what it was meant for... but right now he just wanted to use it to get some relaxation in and clean the grime and blood from his body. He mumbled a bit as he rubbed idly at his wounded form, then began to strip the bandages off with a wince, knowing it would likely hurt like hell at first upon getting in... but also that it would be worth all the pain and nastiness.

He had already thrown his backpack into the bedroom to sort through later, leaving it sitting on the plain, definitely-too-small bed... and then he sighed as he took off his clothes, then looked at the toilet and made a bit of a face as he realized that he'd avoided using it consciously for a week in his head, or seven years and... he didn't remember how many days anymore... and then sighed at the uncomfortable and by-now unfamiliar tremble of his stomach before muttering and hating the fact that he was going to have to get used to this all over again.

As he sat on the toilet, he looked back and forth gloomily... and then blinked and closed his eyes when he heard a mutter and shuffle from inside his head. Right now, of course, even Drake was welcome if he took his mind off things, and he closed his eyes, concentrating and trying to put himself back in the mental world, imagining Drake standing in a library or something.

Inside his head, Drake winced a bit as a room half-formed around him... but then it vanished and he mumbled under his breath again as, in the real world, Zerrex grabbed at his head with a wince as a grudging, dull ache throbbed through his brain. He could almost hear Drake's disapproving mutters before the nephilim trapped in his body said finally in a mild voice: You're pretty strong, and you're smarter than you act. But you're lacking in discipline... you don't have the capacity to communicate with me for long periods of time, it puts too much stress on your mind.

"I have no clue what you're talking about." Zerrex muttered to himself, then he grunted as he stood up and seized the toilet paper, making a disgusted face and mumbling under his breath. Drake responded by sighing, and Zerrex felt faint stirrings of irritated apathy and awkwardness rolling through him: likely the feelings of the dark creature in his head.

Finally, Drake seemed to settle on a suitable response. Hellabos was interested in researching the spiritual from a scientific viewpoint: mixing things that too many people call unmixable, in other words. Patriarch Narrius also has followed this same route, although with much less interest in any philosophy or moralistic side quests, as I'm guessing you've figured out by now. The soul, the mind, the body, and how they differ from each other, what each one controls, what they mix into and how a person who has a strong body and a strong mind can, contradictorily, fold under pressure. The existence of good, evil, right and wrong.

One of the findings in the research into the existence of the soul was that there are four different disciplines, as defined by Hellabos and his scientists: physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual. Raw power, intelligence, level of serenity, and willpower... the last of which comes from experiences, base personality, heritage, beliefs, and is the most important. A pause as Drake apparently decided whether or not to go into detail on this, but then Zerrex caught almost a mental shrug before saying mildly: You have amazing physical power. You aren't the smartest, but you aren't an idiot... commonsense-wise, anyway. You have an incredible force of will and spiritual strength, even though you hate Fate, God, and any other idea of a divine entity... but you have almost no emotional tolerance. That's why your head is hurting as you talk to me... you can will yourself to be calm and collected, but otherwise you're roughly equivalent to an animal in terms of emotional stability and sensitivity... which is part of what screws up your personality so much.

Zerrex winced and made a face as he washed his hands off in the small sink, but he stayed silent as he flushed the toilet, not bothering to argue... after all, even he knew that was true. He wasn't stable emotionally, far from it, and it did lead him to making stupid mistakes and doing idiotic things; worse yet, Drake was right. His head was starting to pound from trying to keep up this conversation, and he kept finding his attention wandering weirdly... thinking of odd things here and there, getting distracted by his own reflection and even his own voice in his head. And the other pieces of broken personality in his mind were all starting to talk in their own voices... but the Drakkaren held on grimly as he asked in a mumble, clenching his eyes shut: "So I can only talk to you..."

When you're relaxed. When your mind isn't crowded with thoughts... but that'll change if you can get my physical half, because then we can physically communicate, instead of-

I wonder where that part of him is... it's in that Gorgon thing, right? But how am I supposed to get it out of a living creature... how do you extract a soul? Zerrex thought to himself, and he blanked for a moment, spacing out entirely before blinking and looking down as he saw the bathtub was almost entirely full now. He turned it off, then frowned and looked at the faucet, his head still aching a bit as he asked himself slowly: "What was I just thinking about?"

A pause, then he grabbed at his head and winced, cursing under his breath as he remembered Drake, remembered that he'd been talking to him... and then nothing. Even the pain in his head was gone now... but when he reached out for the dark creature that was buried somewhere deep inside him, he realized he couldn't find him. Instead, his head started to ache again almost immediately, and his thoughts turned to a numbing, mental static that threatened to drive him insane. With a flinch, he drew his mental probe back from where he'd been searching his own mind, and instead sighed softly, muttering under his breath as he let himself instead slide into the hot water of the tub. Pain bit his wounds afresh like a burning acid, and he closed his eyes for a few moments before it dulled down to an irritable mumble, before finally softening into a tingling amidst the rest of the hot water.

He sat in the water, between two of the seats and down one wall of the recessed tub, glancing back and forth before lowering his head. He felt his arms wanting to do something, and then he let them rise slowly, holding them out as his long hair floated around him like a white foam around him, looking down at his hands through the rippling water.

The reptile closed his eyes, bowing his head forwards, then he smiled faintly as he shook it slowly, causing his hair to cascade down over his face. He brushed it back idly before sinking lower into the tub and tilting his head back so only the tip of his muzzle poked free from the surface of the still surface, his entire body both aching and relieved with the feeling of the hot water flowing around it, the heat forcing his muscles to finally begin to relax. As he half-lay in the deep tub, his legs drawn up a bit, he massaged slowly over his scalp, both loving and hating the feeling of his too-long hair, but trying to enjoy it while it lasted: after all, he'd obviously have to cut it if he wanted to function properly in battle. Better to not give the enemy a bigger target to grab onto... and it'll get in the way of fast movement and probably even wide swings and stuff... certainly would be a lot harder to quick draw a sword from my back...

He shook his head slowly back and forth beneath the water, then sighed a bit as he slowly straightened and pushed up, streamlets rolling over his face and closed eyes like tears as he breathed slowly in and out, body straightened and head raised a bit. He closed his hands together, fingers intertwining as if he was about to pray, held at level with his heart... and he could hear it thumping in his chest, the sound so loud but so calm, and then he lowered his muzzle and opened his eyes with a soft breath.

Meditation was never one of his fortes... after all, the thing he did best was beating on people until they were either senseless or dead. He was an active person, a hard worker, and someone who learned things by doing, not by watching or reading it over... and thinking wasn't exactly his strong point either. Sure, he could talk pretty, and he could strategize, and analyze any opponent fairly fast, but when it came to actually thinking? He had been amazed by the depths of his subconscious mind, the things sitting in there and even the things he had fought and destroyed... after all, he'd never imagined, ironically, that his imagination would be so frigging creative. Which his likely why he had almost gotten his ass kicked.

Zerrex snorted, muttering to himself under his breath. "Great. I underestimated myself... big surprise there. But maybe if I can get this right for once, then..." He paused, then lowered his head and murmured under his breath. "Oh, what the hell..."

He sighed a bit, then closed his eyes and concentrated, emerald eyes closed as he rested in the hot water, trying to leave reality for the moment and instead only embrace the worlds he'd learned that were within himself, to dive into his own subconscious to find what was there to be seen, what he could discover, uncover, and learn about himself. It was a hard process... but it was a worthwhile one too. He'd just... never really grasped the trick to it, that was all.

He muttered under his breath as he lowered his head a bit more, even the rustling of the water around his body enough to disrupt his attention, along with vague thoughts that he was being a moron and that he had serious work to attend to, and of what the others would think if they caught him looking like he was praying in the tub. He did his best to push these away... then remembered Requiem had always told him not to push them away, just to let it flow by itself... and he took a slow breath again. "Relax..."

It was far harder to relax mentally than it was physically, however... and the Drakkaren admitted that sure, he'd trained his body... learned his mind with what he had to learn to do his job well... but he'd always found he did his job better listening to his emotions, never reigning them in, just killing as he felt like and doing as they pleased. When he needed to, he could will himself to calmness... but he rarely did. Even when it came to battle, on one hand, he was collective and coldly calculating every attack, every next move, predicting what the opponent would do next... but on the other, he just let his body move as it wanted, let rage, thrill, despair, excitement, pain, hate, and even love compel him as they would. Often it led to stupid mistakes... but he found he made more when he tried to stay calm and always follow protocol or do the so-called intelligent or right thing.

After about five minutes, he finally gave up with a frustrated grumble, muttering and looking back and forth as he untangled his fingers and sank quickly beneath the water, rubbing his hands through his hair under the water and wincing at the tangles he came across, before rising back out of the depths of the tub, draped in his own long white hairs. He blew out a long breath, then hit the stopper for the tub and stood, a dull throb going through his body as he half-crawled over the high wall and onto the plain tile flooring, straightening and rubbing idly at himself, then tossing another glance down at himself. He prodded his large, obsidian member idly with one finger, glanced around as if expecting to find a tape measure, then rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath: "Can't concentrate or meditate, but what I can do is obsess about my penis. Aren't I just a genius?"

The Drakkaren sighed, brushed his too-long hair back - sopping wet, he was almost treading on it when he took a step forwards just to grab a towel - and then roughly and quickly dried himself before drawing his hair back into a rough, long ponytail and holding it back behind his head with one hand. He jerked open the cupboard, then sighed as he found a pair of plain scissors. A pause, a look back and forth, and then he snapped the blades apart with one hand, creating a pair of crappy knives from one set of scissors. He used one of these to roughly saw through the tight tangle of hairs just in front of his hand, leaving himself holding a ragged, ridiculously-long broom of white hanging from one hand, which he promptly shoved into the small garbage bin at the side of the room.

He rubbed the remaining long white hairs free from his hands and body, then he glanced at the image of himself in the mirror and checked over his tangled mass of once-more shoulder-length locks. Then he sighed and wrapped a towel around his waist as he wandered out of the bathroom and across the hall into the bedroom.

The maid had already come and gone... the room was neat, tidy, clean, and the sheets had been refreshed, and a plain blanket thrown overtop of this. He glanced at the few furnishings in the room, and noted that his backpack had been placed on top of the dresser. He walked over to this, then checked the drawers and pulled out some plain uniform pants and boxers that looked about his size: a quick check revealed a few other uniform-type shirts, a cloth jacket tucked away in one of the lower drawers, and some socks and civilian clothing. For now, the Drakkaren chose to go with the plain black pants and the military jacket, zipping it most of the way up, but leaving enough down that a good part of his masculine chest was still exposed... not because he wanted to show off or because he was stylish, but because he noted the jacket had a built in holster, and he'd usually been alright at a quick-draw from the chest. Never as good as Cherry... and hell, even Lone had gotten good enough to outdraw him - despite the fact he hesitated ninety percent of the time when it actually came around to pulling the trigger - but against your average grunt, he could hold his own.

The Drakkaren shook his head a bit as he brushed his still-slightly-wet hair back from his eyes, then he glanced back and forth before heading out and collecting his combat boots, sliding his bare feet into them in the hallway. He rarely wore socks... even those designed for reptiles just irritated him. But likewise, he couldn't stand walking around barefoot outside... not because of the occupational hazards that came with being in the military - glass, shrapnel, broken bits of sword or bayonet, etcetera - but more because he hated tracking dirt everywhere when he came in from outside. He was a picky person about hygiene and his body... sure, he wore the same clothes for a few days in a row, but that was again, ingrained military behavior... get up, put on the same uniform, go to work. No time for laundry on the battlefield and all that.

He mumbled something under his breath, then turned and walked out of his quarters, into the wide cement-pillar-adorned hall, then paused and slowly looked to the side, before making a face as he saw Albatross leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, head bowed and functional eye closed. "That's... just slightly creepy."

"I got off shift early. Decided to wait for you here." The Dragokkaren said plainly, and Zerrex couldn't tell if this was an explanation in response to what he'd just said or if he'd just been unobtrusively, politely steamrollered. Then the blue-scaled reptile turned to him, flapping his wings once idly as they uncurled for a moment, before furling them tight again against his back and jerking his head to the double doors, glancing over him with a slight smile. "Come on, I'll take you back to the military facility and you can pick out a suitable sidearm and weapon. We've got a good set available from raids we've done on supply lines and from all the times we've had to drag the corpses of soldiers with us in order to avoid detection. Troublesome, but then Narrius just assumes they went AWOL."

"Probably kills the rest of the platoon for allowing the supposed desertion... then any guards in the area for incompetence." Zerrex muttered under his breath, and the other reptile glanced at him for a moment, before he gave a bit of a grim smile.

"Here's hoping." he said softly, then turned and led Zerrex back out onto the Ring and to the single hall that connected the military facility to the barracks behind it. The Drakkaren followed silently, idly rubbing at his roughly-hewn hair every now and then and feeling oddly embarrassed. He zipped up his jacket a bit more as he caught many of them looking to see if they could get a glance at his musculature or scarring for self-comparison... at least, he hoped it was just for the usual self-comparison. Admittedly, however, even the looks he was getting from some of the female soldiers weren't really turning him on or provoking any of the interest it otherwise might... hell, even the fawning males would normally have flicked a few switches in him, especially the larger ones... but today, and with all his mixed emotions, he only wished he would be treated as a normal, all-but-invisible grunt instead of some new General and savior. That thought, especially, terrified him in a way that he almost didn't understand... brought up even more feelings of inadequacy and guilt, things he wasn't used to and hated...

A pause, and then he glanced ahead with a bit of a blush as he saw Albatross was looking up at him, stopped in front of an electronically-locked steel door. The Drakkaren looked back at him for a moment, then he blushed a bit as Albatross asked in a careful, gentle voice: "You okay there, Boss?"

The last part had the effect of a shock on the reptile, and he glanced quickly down, before coughing and rubbing the back of his head slowly, looking up with a faint smile as the blue-scaled Drakkaren continued to stare at him, apparently confused by the almost-violent reaction of the other lizard. Then Zerrex said quietly: "Yeah. I'm fine..." A pause. "Just... just got a shock there, that's all. When I woke up, I didn't know... how much time had passed. In my state of coma, it was like... every day I spent in my head, turned out to be a year here. So it still feels like two weeks ago, I was home in Baskin's Grove, talkin' to people, and back there, I've always just been called the Boss."

He looked down for a moment, then back up with a smile at Albatross that was a bit more sincere, a bit less forced. "It's weird isn't it, where you can find hints of home, huh?"

The Dragokkaren nodded and laughed a bit, then he shrugged as he turned to the reader, hitting in a quick ten-digit code and responding easily: "Well, I guess that's because our home is this whole damn planet... but hey, Hez'Ranna's the birthplace of all Drakkai, right? So maybe you've always just felt hints of home somewhere else, and now you're finally here."

Zerrex laughed a bit at this, as the security door gave several loud clanks before Albatross pulled it open with a grunt, and the reptile stepped carefully through the door and into the weapons room beyond as he said softly: "No. I'll only truly be home once I get my family back."

Albatross nodded as he followed Zerrex into the surprisingly-large cement room, but he couldn't help and frown slightly, biting the inside of his cheek as he glanced away before looking back at the reptile as he approached a set of shelves holding ammo and various explosives, saying slowly: "I... hate to say this, and I don't want to patronize you, Lord Zerrex... but... you realize that they might all be dead, or worse, so debilitated or driven insane that..." He broke off, but when the other reptile glanced up at him quietly, he knew Zerrex got the point... and that the lizard was more than aware of exactly what his father was capable of, or even some of the scientists who worked for him.

"Yeah... they might be at a point where death is a mercy." He said softly, then he turned his attention back to the shelves and laughed a bit. "And I know every soldier says this about his team, his family, his children, after the enemy attacks them and takes them prisoner... but you have to meet them to know them. If I was being overoptimistic, then you'd hear me saying things like... 'And maybe I'll be able to get Lone back, too.'" He stopped and looked down, rubbing the back of his neck slowly. "He was eaten by one of those... freakish zombie things. The... soul sucker creatures, Empty Ones or something?"

"We know." The Dragokkaren looked down again, and Zerrex turned to look at him curiously before Albatross turned his eyes to the racks opposite that dominated the wall, filled with various types of rifle, from old bolt action weapons that had been in service since the dawn of Hez'Ranna's industrial age to the massive drum-loading heavy machine guns favored by Narrius's soldiers. "His name's Alone now... sick play on words, probably from Narrius's warping. He's one of the RED soldiers, the only pelt elite, and Narrius sends him on quote-unquote diplomatic missions... the rest of the time he's either leading a troupe of soldiers on hunts or sitting in his lofty Wolf Tower."

"With a u or o?" Zerrex asked sardonically, then gave a slightly-twisted grin to Albatross when he looked at him oddly. "Private joke, don't worry about it. Lone's always been a bastard about his last name... spelled it with a u and an e. But I knew that already... I had to watch the transformation, and I got the idea he wasn't going to just stay a cutesy little pervert." A pause and a slow shake of his head as he murmured: "It's ironic how the past always comes back to bite us in the ass, huh? Lone... I mean, Alone, is just the old Lone come back to life, but in a physically-fit body with some ass-kicking training, so he's not all hot air and huff and puff, or just an idiot with big guns. I'll deal with him as well when I go to town... it's time me and him settled the old scores without any mercy, anyway." A pause, and then a quiet laugh as he walked over to the rifle rack that spanned most of the wall as well, stepping around a row of racks on the ground that also held automated weaponry. "But that's exactly what I meant, too. Someone who's... all rainbows and sunshine would probably say we could bring back every lost soul, every stolen soul, with the regeneration technology Narrius seems to have at his disposal... that slick jerk Mengele is certainly a few years out of his time, after all. A pessimist would say we're already screwed. I'm somewhere in between, myself...

"I think we can bring down Narrius, but it'll take a hell of a lot of effort." Zerrex said softly, then he looked around the room again before walking towards the back, Albatross following him and looking quietly amused as the Drakkaren checked a weapon locker, then glanced over his shoulder with a frown. "All I see here are rifles... I need something big and heavy, a knife, and a handgun."

Albatross snorted and shook his head, muttering under his breath: "Classic hero." A pause, and then a grin as he caught Zerrex's sour look. "What, you think you're some invincible adrenaline-charged super-punk? Handguns are a sidearm for a reason. They miss a hell of a lot at long or even medium range, and once the enemy gets too close, accuracy goes down, not up, from the heightened thrills and chills runnin' through the system. Knife is great, but like I keep telling the twins, lugging those giant-ass cleavers around must suck up a lot of strength, and they're too big to use... well... almost anywhere, effectively."

"Oh, get bent." Zerrex rolled his eyes, then looked around before catching sight of another metal door and turning around, walking off over to it as the one-eyed Dragokkaren followed with a grin as the reptile replied mildly: "And by the way, I'm the guy who you morons keep calling the savior. But gee, there I go, pullin' that hero crap, and suddenly it's 'you're such a moron.'"

"I didn't say moron. I just inferred it." retorted Albatross, then he paused and jerked a semiautomatic rifle free from a rack as he passed, shouldering it and checking it over as he said plainly: "See, this is what you need. DGA-XLR 540, originally designed for extreme-range sniping, but recently modified with a heavy alloy barrel and walnut stock that's been reinforced with steel, heavy enough to crack a helmet and the skull beneath. It's a bit long, a bit heavy, but with a good scope, you can blast a plane out of the sky at a distance of 1.5 kilometers, if you're a good enough shot and... you're... not even listening to me, are you?"

Zerrex gave a grunt, either of negation or affirmation: either way, it added up to the same thing, and Albatross rolled his one lavender eye as he shouldered the sniper rifle, looking distasteful. This room - the same size as the last, probably a good fifty-by-fifty feet - was filled only with handguns, and the shelves that lined one wall stuffed with boxes of bullets, sorted carefully out into different calibers and types by some diligent soul. The Drakkaren was busily checking over the different weapons available, picking up a gun here and there, checking the slide, peering into the bore like an overcurious child or suicidal moron... but Albatross couldn't help but feel a sense of entertained respect. The lizard acted like a novice, but he obviously knew how to handle the weapons... and then he headed over to the lockers, and Albatross groaned as he immediately seized on a revolver, peering over it with a grin. "This looks great."

"Looks great. Yeah. So does a single-action antique rifle." The Dragokkaren replied in a disgusted voice, his wings flapping idly once as if in agreement before furling tight again, as he tapped the huge semiautomatic rifle. "See this baby? Ten round capacity, with extended clips available that can hold up to twenty rounds. That 'awesome-looking thing' only holds eight shots... six in the custom version."

"I said great, not awesome." Zerrex replied absently, as he glanced over the gun, before pausing as he noted that the straight barrel was screwed on and could be easily detached; furthermore, it and the cylinder were also silver, whereas the rest of the gun was black and the handle was reddish-violet. He looked curiously up at Albatross as he remembered the words the Dragokkaren had just used, asking: "What do you mean, six in the custom? And why's this thing seem like it's made out of building blocks."

Albatross seemed to think for a few moments about whether or not he really wanted to answer... then he sighed and shook his head, pointing at the locker. "There should be a black box in there with a piece of tape on it that says 'revolver kit.' It has the custom parts in it, and there's probably sidepack or quick-access kit you can strap on, too.

"The barrel and the cylinder can both be removed off that gun and replaced with the custom parts, which are black in color, like the body of the gun. There's also a stock, if I remember right, and a scope and laser sight for precise shooting." He made a bit of a face as Zerrex began to rummage through the cubbyholes and small shelves in the locker on the hunt for this kit. "That's why the gun has a more rifle-style handle... and why the rails on it are so big. The eight-round cylinder is designed to hold .45 reinforced rounds or even certain types of shotgun shell without damaging the barrel, although the dispersal pattern is ridiculously wide... and the six-round cylinder holds customized .60 anti-armor bullets."

Zerrex grinned stupidly to himself as he pulled out the case, and Albatross looked at him with something like either sheer disbelief or blank disgust with everything, watching the Drakkaren almost fondle the case as he looked over it almost greedily. Then he sat down on the cement floor, looking all the more like a crazed child with a new toy as he opened the case and tossed the carry-pack aside for now, then paused and blinked as he saw the instructions glued to the top of the lid, reading in a murmur: "RED Enforcer Custom Model: DPA-45+/60AA."

Albatross caught Zerrex's confusion, then he laughed a bit and tilted his head. "Let me guess... you thought that the only RED units were the Patriarch's private guard, right? I wish... then we'd only have a few to deal with." he paused, and then smiled a bit at Zerrex. "Counting Iago, who you already took out, RED has four Commanders... the other three being Alone, Black Requiem, and Cherubim. The problem comes in that there are also RED Enforcers, who are handpicked, black-armored soldiers that usually guard high-security areas, or are sent out on special-priority attack missions that require either total destruction or capturing important individuals.

"That gun, however, is five years old... and Narrius's RED Division underwent a whole new equipment upgrade just a few months ago. They all use customized weaponry, and there are five divisions of the Enforcer... one for each commander, and then Narrius's own personal division. They say that the soldiers have to go through a whole new training program to get in, and that only one or two of the twenty or so picked from the GA survive... and the max we've heard rumor of is three from the PA, which is a bit more trained because... you know, they're the Private Army that protect the inner sanctums of Uroboros and defend the most important areas of Hez'Ranna where special research is going on, or which is more vulnerable to attack.

"We stole a shipment of those guns, but unfortunately, our soldiers couldn't use them... they worked fine as plain .45s, but only a few of our strongest could handle the kick from the shells, and just forget about the .60 caliber rounds." He shook his head and snorted. "Fuckin' Narrius and his stupid ideas. All he wants is a bigger kick... but what the hell are you going to do with a goddamn hand-cannon of sixty cals? Face down a tank? I'll give him points for creativity though... ain't never heard of any gun that big before."

Zerrex mused to himself as he unscrewed the barrel of the revolver and removed the cylinder, looking down thoughtfully at the gun and finally recognizing the design with a slight smile: he had seen this before, as he clicked in the six-round cylinder, then began to screw on the larger barrel: this one, however, was rectangular in shape, and when Zerrex locked it in entirely, it clicked tight against a small nook at the bottom of the gun. He rose it idly to head level, making sure the barrel was fully-straight, and then said softly: "The weird design of the body... I've seen it before. It's much larger than normal, and so is the handle... it looks exactly like my old ancient rust-machine revolver, except with a place to attach a scope and the added rectangular barrel for better support." A pause, then a grin up at Albatross. "Except my gun was .62 caliber... and I found the damn thing laying in the woods."

The blue-scaled Dragokkaren looked at him for a few moments, apparently deciding whether to take him seriously or not, then he winced when Zerrex strafed the gun over him, twitching back and holding up his hands. "Do you know nothing about gun safety? Don't point that frigging thing at me!"

Immediately, Zerrex responded by aiming the gun at the Dragokkaren's foot, amusing himself as the reptile quickly stepped to the side with a wince, and he said playfully: "What, I thought these things were useless? Why are you hopping around all of a sudden? Besides, the cylinder's out and there's no bullets in it, you're fine."

"The devil owns all guns and makes the final decision whether it fires or not." Albatross replied moodily, as he rubbed slowly over his sniper rifle. "But fine. I don't know about the accuracy or anything on those, but it kicks like a pissed-off racehorse. Ridiculously big, too."

"I hear people say that about me a lot, too. But once you go big, I notice that a lot of people don't go back to what they had before." Zerrex muttered in reply, glancing over the black gun and noting the faint streaks of reddish-purple along the indents in the black metal on the gun. The blue-scaled, eyepatched Dragokkaren merely grunted at this with another roll of his one eye before turning and heading back into the rifle room to put his semiautomatic sniper rifle away, leaving Zerrex to examine the curling instructions on the lid of the box, memorizing the types of shells that could be used in the weapon, then he slid it into the holster inside his jacket after snapping the cylinder shut with a flick of his wrist, figuring he could load it later. Instead, he focused for now on unfolding the sidepack - it folded up in half for ease of travel, sealing with Velcro and then tied tight to make sure it didn't come loose anyway with string - and placing the parts inside the marked pockets. Thank Gods they're labeled... if they weren't, I'd shove the wrong stuff everywhere.

After that, he picked the sidepack up and the empty kit... realized he didn't have a belt as Albatross wandered back into the room... and then coughed and switched them both to carry under an arm as he walked over to inspect the boxes of bullets. Albatross rolled his eyes at this, then he leaned back against the wall, glancing up and saying idly: "We do still have a few stops to make... you can always come back here later..."

"You promised me weapons. I want my weapons." Zerrex replied peevishly, making a bit of a face at the Dragokkaren, then he snagged a large box of revolver rounds and adding that to the pile of stuff he was holding under one arm, then he turned and tilted his head, asking mildly: "So where's the sharp objects, huh?"

Albatross looked at him flatly for a few moments, again seeming to size him up again with his lavender eye... then he headed over to the next doorway and looked at him with what seemed like disapproval. "You know, you are going to be seen as the figurehead of this army... you could act a bit more professional."

Zerrex felt absurdly chastised... but as he rubbed at his head, he gave a stupid, embarrassed grin and responded easily: "Rules are for losers."A pause... and then he became a bit more serious, laughing quietly and closing his eyes. "And I don't want to be seen as a savior, or some high and mighty being, 'cause I'm not." Then he paused, and opened his eyes, meeting the lavender one of Albatross with his own even emerald gaze. "But I like to separate myself... and in a few ways, I'm much different on the battlefield. Call that my... professional life and calling. Otherwise, off field, I like to stay loose and maybe a bit crazy..." And with that, Zerrex gave a smile that revealed the truer levels of his being, the darkness and discontent that haunted him that he covered up so often with idiocy or almost childish oddness. "Because otherwise, I might truly go insane. And I'd rather not exist as a killing machine but try and find some other little niche for my character."

Albatross almost winced back, before nodding and laughing faintly, bowing his head towards him respectfully. "Then you have my deepest apologies, Lord Zerrex, for questioning you." He paused, then sighed and rolled his eyes. "But that doesn't make me any happier about this. A few rooms down are the carry-on weapons, and after that are the primary melee wea... okay. Nevermind. I'll just follow you." The blue-scaled Dragokkaren sighed a bit as Zerrex immediately turned and took off, heading through the door but pausing and grinning stupidly, before making a face as Albatross continued to walk forwards, pushing him along as the reptile grunted and stumbled forwards through the room full of shotguns. "These are idiot guns. I'm not letting you throw on one of these as well."

"A properly used shotgun is a wonder-worker!" Zerrex complained in response to this, but he allowed himself to be shoved along as he grumbled under his breath: the next room was filled with explosives and ammunition, and the room after that had specialty weapons such as tasers and flamethrowers, along with premade kits for soldiers that contained a handgun, an assault rifle of some type that complimented the sidearm, and a kwaibar or other small melee weapon.

Then they pushed into a room filled with knives, kwaibars and other short-range traditional melee weapons of Hez'Ranna, and a few other odds and ends here and there. The reptile mused to himself as he browsed the racks and shelves, before finally settling on a black alloy combat knife with a rubberized, fitted handle, probably big enough to serve as a short sword or long dagger for a normal person, but the perfect size to work as a multiple-use knife for him. He checked the blade with one claw, making sure it was sharp and inspecting the serrated side for any damage, and Albatross said mildly: "I recognize you're not going to listen to me, but although the design is eye-fetching and it looks dangerous, you'll get lodged into something if you stab it and likely be unable to draw the knife out."

"You're underestimating my strength." Zerrex replied absently, not even looking up as he sheathed the knife, then he flicked a small strap out around the handle and closed it with the small button to keep the weapon secure in the sheath. He glanced up, then groaned as Albatross opened his mouth again. "And yes, I know, the strap delays draw time by about half a second, which is long enough to get... pumped full of umpteen amounts of bullets from big scary guns that can shoot like, a million rounds a second if they're set to fully automatic. But I'd like to point out there's no one who can use those guns properly on fully automatic, because the recoil action can't be countered by strength and basic physics demands that the gun barrel will rise upwards after a very short time on rock and roll mode and more than fifty percent of the rounds will hit the ceiling or sky."

Albatross blinked, then closed his mouth as Zerrex fussed with the knife for a few moments moodily, fastening it against his left shoulder with the handle on a downwards angle for easy access. Then he looked up mildly at the Dragokkaren before trotting off to the next room after picking up his for-a-few-moments abandoned revolver gear: he'd already managed to shove the box of bullets into one of the pockets of his jacket, where it hung out on a ridiculously jaunty angle.

The Dragokkaren sighed and followed him, rubbing at his head slowly beneath his plain black cap, then he refitted it, mumbling about how it was like dealing with Huck all over again. He entered the next room, and then made a face as he saw the Drakkaren grinning stupidly and bouncing around on his toes in front of a rack of massive cleavers. Other swords, spears, polearms and axes adorned the walls and sat in racks... but these had apparently attracted the reptile's attention first for whatever reason, and Albatross sighed before leaning against a locker and glancing up at the ceiling. "You know, I'm not even going to start. And I'm going to regret asking this later, I realize, but why the cleavers?"

Zerrex glanced at him with a slight smile, then he chose one off the rack and hefted it easily in one hand: it had much the same design as the one he'd been using earlier, except that there was a large, cruel and curving silver spike on the other side of the topmost section of the blade, maybe half a foot long... and the sword itself had a fitted metal handle wrapped carefully in black leather, with a long strap attached at either end of the hilt for easy carrying purposes.

The rectangular blade itself was chrome silver, thick on one side and tapering to a thin blade, leaving the weapon maybe a foot wide. The edge was made of ivory steel, and although it was a bit dusty, the Drakkaren could tell it had been regularly cleaned: otherwise, it was plain of ornament and would serve well, he thought, as he held it out towards Albatross, making the Dragokkaren blink and tilt away as the tip of the sword almost touched him. "Incredibly long reach... in a crowded area, I can swing this and rip right through a crowd of enemies. Cutting power with the edge... but how heavy it is, is most likely the biggest advantage: armor that can't be cut will be crushed or bludgeoned, and things that can't be bludgeoned will be slashed apart. Sure, there's as many cons as there are pros... but that goes for any weapon. If I factor in my own power, however, and the chance of being halted by a wall is pretty slim to none."

Zerrex paused as he rested the sword against his shoulder, then he added plainly: "And swords don't have ammo, of course, so that's probably their biggest advantage... and since I can usually close with most enemies in just a few minutes, and it'll only take one or two hits with something like this to knock any enemy into pieces."

"Sounds like you're betting too much on gettin' close to me." Albatross said mildly, making a bit of a face. "A kwaibar would be just as good if things came to close combat, I think. But for me it never gets to that point... I can land a hit to the weak point of any enemy while they're still a klick away and on the march."

"Swords are stronger than guns when wielded by the right hands..." Zerrex replied with a bit of a smile, glancing over at the one-eyed Dragokkaren as he slid the strap of the sword over his head and shoulder, letting the huge blade rest diagonally against his back. He glanced back and forth, then frowned a bit and reached up to idly brush at his hair, mumbling to himself about his ragged-ended hair before turning his attention back to the blue-scaled reptile, asking mildly: "Hey, hey, hey. So where are we going next, huh?"

The Dragokkaren made a face at him, then he rolled his eyes and shrugs, turning and beckoning for Zerrex to follow as he headed back through the series of weapons rooms and back towards one of the halls, looking over his shoulder and saying idly: "Well, next we better stop off next at the meeting hall, see who's there, and announce your presence to the main soldiers, since we haven't done that yet. Churchill and Huck will likely be there, too... and hopefully the former won't be so much of an ass this time and the latter won't fuck things up with his usual vulgar wit."

Zerrex smiled a bit as he nodded, then, as they wandered along, he added another easy question, hoping that Albatross wouldn't pick up on the implications... but the one-eyed Dragokkaren seemed a bit too sharp for him to get tricked by Zerrex's plays on words: "So how did you three come into the roles of Commander, and how'd you choose which one was your high boss?"

"You mean, how did an ass like Churchill get to be the High Commander of the council, which seems composed otherwise of individuals more interested in getting the job done as smoothly as possible rather than following a bunch of ridiculous, rigid protocols?" Albatross asked casually, but a slight grin teased over his muzzle as he pulled open the door to the hall, glancing back at Zerrex with a wink of his single eye.

"Um. Yeah." The Drakkaren admitted, coughing and rubbing the back of his head, and again making a bit of a face at the feel of his hair: something felt... weird. But he guessed it was just the fact that he'd chopped it off so suddenly more than anything else: Albatross either noted this or thought it was meant more for Churchill, turning away with a bit of a shrug and looking amused more than anything else.

The Dragokkaren mused a bit to himself for a few moments, then, as they walked down one of the halls of the military facility, he finally began to speak in his usual amiable, easy voice... but Zerrex thought he could pick up an undertone of disgust all the same. "I guess it all comes down to politics... politics and showing off, really. Sure, me and Huck got plenty of credentials... but our close-combat and environment experts, the twins, got no experience whatsoever outside of their Iuratus training... and no army wants a pair of slaves as their figurehead, no matter how strong they are.

"Then you got Huck. Huck isn't... your average officer." Albatross said carefully, but he seemed amused nonetheless, shaking his head as they wandered into a larger hall area and towards an elevator. As they stood waiting at it, he crossed his arms and closed his eye, resting back against the wall and looking ironically amused. "He's the best soldier we have... but he has utterly no respect for rules, being on time, any of the usual laws of a soldier. But I'd rather have him by my side than anyone else, because if there's one thing Huck does, and does well, it's take care of his teammates.

"He's got a shitload of reprimands... he was dishonorably discharged from a unit for refusing to leave an area infested with enemy snipers until he dragged one of his dying friends from the ambush they'd set up in a jungle... and at the same time, he's also got a ton of awards that he'll never talk about because he's ashamed of all the pretty pieces of metal he's got for doing good. He's not like some grunts, who'll show off the salad they got on even their civilian clothes, who get all the certificates of honor they get framed and hang 'em up on the wall. But Huck doesn't fight to kill the enemy... he fights to end the war, and he wants to make sure no one else has to die needlessly."

Zerrex nodded slowly, as the elevator doors opened, and they waited for a few soldiers to stream out before stepping into the large-size elevator, Albatross tapping a button as he glanced around at the few other Drakkai standing in the service elevator, sharing a curt nod with them and then turning his attention back to the Drakkaren. "And me? Well... I guess I'm pretty decorated too. I got the requirements to serve as leader... just like Huck, I don't like it, but me and him know that our best place right now is serving the people, working on the council with the twins and Church between doing work here around the base. We have our own specialties, but we're the only people here who have really served as commanding officers for the units." He paused, looking down thoughtfully as the elevator stopped and the doors opened, several of the soldiers leaving as he looked back up at Zerrex with a bit of a smile.

"And then we come to Churchill," he said mildly, as the doors slid back closed. "Our esteemed, highest-ranked commander. He's worthless as a soldier... but he's the person the soldiers originally rallied around, because of his former rank as Colonel of the General Army. And he does admittedly have a lot of knowledge about the tactics and training that the GA underwent, which was useful at first... but since Narrius is implementing his cloned soldiers more and more, and because they use much more vicious tactics, he's started to get a bit useless. He also doesn't seem to understand that no one is playing by the rules of war anymore..."

"Not that anyone played by them to begin with." Zerrex murmured, and Albatross snorted with a nod, face twisted in an ironic smile as the elevator came to a halt again, and this time he stepped out with a few others when the doors opened. The Drakkaren followed him out, shaking his head slowly as he said quietly: "So you let him take the position of High Commander..."

"Because that's what everyone wanted." Albatross shrugged slowly. "Fifty percent of our remaining forces are GA... twenty percent are specially-trained civilians like security guards and police personnel... the rest are rescued soldiers who are willing to work with us. We've got... God, who knows how many people who are ready, willing, and able to join the army with a bit of extra training - after all, all of Hez'Ranna undergoes physical training as part of one's education growing up - but Churchill won't hear of it, even though it would bolster our forces... because that would be bad for protocol, and because he realizes that he might lose his precious position as head of the council. He also said we should be run by election to choose our highest commander who has the veto and give power... and since he automatically managed fifty percent of the vote from the soldiers he used to boss around..."

Zerrex muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes as they headed through another long hallway and past a few gaggles of uniformed soldiers and plain-clothed civilians. "That's great. More politics... and what you're thinking, is that if you introduce me to the soldiers, they'll rally around a new figurehead... and you'll be able to knock Churchill out of power and add me to the council." He paused and glared a bit at Albatross, making him quail and flap his wings a bit with a wince. "First. It's more polite to ask then force me to figure it out on my own... and second, I don't play well with others. No politics, no council crap."

Albatross coughed as they approached a pair of plain metal double doors, then they pushed through into a plain auditorium... before Zerrex winced as he saw it was full of soldiers, sitting in the seats and milling in the isles, leaving only the main middle hall between the seats open. He looked back and forth, then up towards the stage as Albatross led him slowly forwards, murmuring under his breath: "Well, then you're gonna be really pissed about this, because it's more of an inauguration ceremony than anything else. We're gonna ask you after a short introduction on the stage... and you aren't uh... exactly in a position to refuse."

Zerrex glared at the back of the blue-scaled Dragokkaren... but he made a disgusted face as he realized it was true: sure, he could act like a child, turn and storm outside... but what good would that do? This was embarrassing enough as it was to be caught off guard and dragged up on stage... but he'd be the laughingstock of the base if he turned and left, or as bad as Churchill. So instead he contented himself with a sigh as he looked up at the stage, seeing Huck standing there with an embarrassed grin, one arm around Churchill's shoulders... and the latter was fuming visibly, looking harried and angry. The Drakkaren figured he might as well keep going forwards if just to teach the pissed-off Dragokkaren a lesson... and so he just grumbled under his breath as they approached the stage, wincing as he followed him up a short set of a stairs and onto the lighted wooden set.

He stood on the small wooden stage under the glare of the lights, and immediately the twins looked up at him with cheerful smiles, grabbing his wrists and jerking him over to position between them, and Zerrex coughed a bit at the behavior of the two Iuratus as he glanced back and forth over the crowd, Albatross wandering over to Churchill and leaning up to mutter something to him. Zerrex winced a bit, then he looked from one sister to the other and said mildly: "I'm going to kick your asses later, so you know. Because I know you two are behind this crap."

"We'll make it up to you later, Lord Zerrex." Mist replied, stroking a finger over his chest, and Shine winked and leaned up to nuzzle into his neck gently, pushing through his long hair and making him twitch a bit and smile despite himself, a bit of a blush rising in his cheeks as he caught everyone staring at him, feeling the females pressing forwards even as he tried to maintain a bit of professionalism. Then they both paused as a single beep sounded, and stood back a bit, straightening... but both keeping a hand resting on the Drakkaren's waist, just above the base of his tail.

Churchill cleared his throat as he adjusted a small headset over his head, and then he spoke plainly, his voice magnified easily through the entire auditorium... and likely through some other public announcement system that flooded the base, from the after-second echo Zerrex through he could hear coming from the speakers. "I, General Churchill, High Councilor, would like to make an announcement to everyone here: as some of you likely already know, a great and honored soldier has come into our midst, after surviving seven years of torture at the hands of Patriarch Narrius's cruelest scientist, Arctic Death Mengele. This soldier has been revered by many of our soldiers as the heir of the Narrius legacy and bloodline, and even as a savior in some circles: Zerrex Narrius, formerly Commander Ravenlight of the Goth Legion."

Captain. Captain Ravenlight... never 'commander.' I don't need my terms sweetened... Zerrex mumbled to himself, and he thought he heard Drake give a grunt of agreement somewhere in his mind. He paused, then turned his attention back to Churchill's speech, which sounded horribly dry and rehearsed. "As all of you know, the Patriarch's facilities have been said to be unbreachable, just as his army has been said to be indestructible and the RED Commanders all but invulnerable, tyrants of terror." Oh my Gods. Please tell me that's a bad translation of Hez'Rannan on my part. Tyrants of terror? "But recently I have received verification that Lord Zerrex has single-handedly destroyed not only the feared "Puppet Legion," but the RED Commander Iago, who had taken so many lives. We also have reports from scouts of severe damage to a facility inside the Palace Sector; the damaged facility has been determined to be the main genetics laboratory of Mengele Tstegi, and our hope is that grievous injury has been inflicted to either his person or the sensitive equipment we know was kept inside his labs.

"Lord Zerrex has also aided in the escape of the twins and their military platoon after being ambushed inside the city during a failed attempt to destroy a power station." Zerrex frowned slightly at the badly-hidden disapproval in Churchill's voice, but he tried to keep himself looking calm and impassive. He agreed it was a stupid idea, sure, for the twins to have gone along... but there was no need to drag it out and humiliate them for it, and he risked a glance at Shine, knowing her sister's expression would be similar.

Her face was tight, her eyes furious... and then Zerrex looked up sharply at Churchill's next words: "Unfortunately, several soldiers were killed in the line of duty, but although we shall mourn these soldiers, we will also rejoice at the safe return of two important council members and the arrival of Lord Zerrex." You bastard. Treating them... talking about them like... "Honorary services will be held at the end of the week, to recognize all those fallen in duty, and postmortem recognitions given to those brave fallen heroes."

Zerrex's face twitched a bit, hard as he tried to stay emotionless... but he could feel anger boiling inside him, and deep, raw hatred. Worst of all, something that rarely happened was now rising up inside of him, making it even harder to avoid fidgeting as his body tensed; Ravenlight was rising up, not just in dark fury but almost righteous anger, and the image that came to mind was almost comical, making Zerrex's muzzle twist in a cold half-smile as his emerald eyes blazed. One of Drake being shoved to the side, a wince on his face and one of Ravenlight's hands shoving into his cheek, a finger poking rudely into a winced eye as the black-armored reptile shook the other one furiously, cursing and yelling every obscenity he had at his disposal.

Fucking moron! No... fucking maggot, fucking weakling! Talking about soldiers like toys or pawns, talking about them like they're nothing, saying that the pretty pieces of steel and copper will make it all so much better... god damn, but I want to break this bastard in two. Honorary services at the end of the week, all this... bullshit? Treat soldiers as soldiers... they know what they're getting into with a war brewing, the chance of death and pain and loss of everything... don't you make what they've thrown away in sacrifice worthless... just let them have their peace, go to sleep and get their well-deserved rest...

Shush. Gotta listen to the rest of the speech... and you're not making much sense anyway. Zerrex murmured mentally, and Ravenlight seemed to go back to silent fury. Zerrex wondered for a moment why Ravenlight was the only voice he ever heard clearly - sure, there were random murmurs and whispers that made it through whatever barrier was in his brain, too, but only when he was really stressed or upset or lonely - before turning his attention back to the General. "-so thus, I believe it is important that we must find a way to stand together as one unit, one being, one organism, and begin the fight anew against our mortal enemy, the Patriarch and his solders.

"In order to most effectively do this, I hereby elect that Lord Zerrex should be made a part of the military council governing the affairs of this facility and the base..." he paused for a long moment, seeming to be fighting an internal struggle with himself, then he added grimly, as Huck winced and slapped a hand to his forehead: "I will, however, also recommend a probationary period and that Lord Zerrex undergo a general test of his abilities-"

The Drakkaren could feel the twins tensing on either side of him, and he could sense the murderous intent flowing up from both... so he did the only thing he could. He quickly stepped across the stage, then simply punched Churchill in the face, sending him crashing to the ground and skidding over the wooden stage, his headset flying into the air and doing a single, lazy flip before the reptile reached up and caught it, his other hand still holding the random junk he'd picked up from the weapon room. He coughed a bit at the stares he got and the murmur that went through the crowd, as Huck and Albatross stared stupidly, then he fit the snug headset over his own skull and coughed, tapping the microphone and saying lamely: "Uh... hey there. General Churchill... um. Ran into technical difficulties."

He paused for a moment, glancing down at the prone, twitching body of the Dragokkaren who was laying at the feet of the other two winged reptiles, then he coughed again and rubbed the back of his head with one hand, turning towards the crowd. "I just want you all to know that I plan to do the best as I can serving on the council and preparing our troops for the upcoming battles. The wars will be hard, and the enemy is crueler, colder, and more sadistic than many of you have yet to imagine..." The Drakkaren glanced down, then back up, his voice becoming more serious, automatically settling in to the military-style dialogue, no longer feeling any queasiness from being in front of such a huge crowd and instead letting his words flow. They came as they did, and for whatever reason... they seemed to be the right ones. "But I'm here to prepare you for that.

"I am not a savior. I am not a god, and I am not a hero... I'm closer to the opposite number, which I keep saying clearly to even our other esteemed leaders." Zerrex said mildly, his voice easily carrying over the announcement system and causing uneasy glances to pass between those listening - all listening now, instead of those few outside of the hall who had paid half-attention to Churchill's usual blathering. "But we've tried playing as the good guys, and we've let our heroes and the nice people and prayed to our gods; none of them have helped us against this hell, this living devil, so I say screw playing nice. If you want a job done morally, ethically and in a way that lets you feel all squeaky-clean and peachy, then fine. Go talk to your priests, talk of angels and gods and heaven.

"But if you want a job done right, done fast, and an enemy crushed, then don't talk to your gods or anyone else that brings salvation. In this kind of war, we have to meet the enemy with equal force, and be prepared to use every weapon we have at our disposal... and most of all, meet ruthlessness with ruthlessness. What, you afraid of Hell?" Zerrex grinned, then said calmly: "Where do you think we are now? Narrius has already risen Hell, and covered this entire world in his own dark image, his own corrupt world, which is chaos for the sake of chaos. God can't help us now... only we can help ourselves in this godless world.

"We are soldiers. We are warriors. And now is the time for war, and the time for us to do what we do best... to fight, to live, to kill, to die. We will suffer... but even in Hell, we'll find the strength to keep going, and we'll march proud and united against the monster called the Patriarch, who's already laid waste to this once-great nation and the entire world. And we aren't here to play nice, or play war games, or screw around with protocol and law, because there no longer is any law. We have a chance to change the course of history... because if we fail, we'll be seen as nothing but a bunch of miserable, idiot failures who stood in the way of good and civilization." As Zerrex spoke, his voice rose, becoming harder and rawer as he half-shouted into the microphone: "Do you want Narrius to be seen as the good guy by the future generations, or reviled as the scum he is? Do you want to end up being seen as weaklings, as monsters, as the most non-patriotic terrorists by the history books, or are you willing to live, fight and die for the truth, for honor, for this entire goddamn world that is our home in its defense?"

The crowd responded with a loud: "No, sir!" that echoed through the room and the building, and Zerrex snorted as he paced back and forth, closing his eyes for a moment... then raising his head and glaring over the crowd before shouting back: "Then what the hell are you all doing? We have to fight harder, do better! We don't even have the choice of giving up anymore, because we will be exterminated like feral rats in the food supply... because your children, your families, your friends, will be sent to the experiment labs, and ripped apart by bastards like Mengele to be turned into sex toys, monsters and slaves! Do you want that to happen? No? Then we have one choice, and that's to fight and to crush the Patriarch!" A pause, and then he grinned coldly around at them all. "There's only one person who wins in war... and that's the bureaucrat. We soldiers suffer in ways that no one else will ever recognize or admit... we are the ones who get to experience the piss-your-pants fear of the enemy charging down on us, outnumbering us by a thousand, a goddamn million, and better equipped, better in every way... but we have something they don't.

"We have a reason to fight... and a reason to win. Narrius doesn't; Narrius just wants to see the clash and the violence... and there is no formed goal at the end of his plans. If he kills you... he's won the war. And even when we kill him... we might write down that we won the war, that we crushed the monsters, that we eradicated evil. But we won't win... this world is in shambles, we've all lost friends, family, children and lovers. We've all suffered... and we'll continue to suffer. This beautiful city has been destroyed... but we can at least make sure that Narrius doesn't get his way; we won't win, but if we kill that bastard, then our next generation gets to live just like we did... not in peace, but not in Hell, either.

"I don't believe in political crap, and I don't believe in feeding you and puffing you up with bullshit." Zerrex said calmly, and he could see that he had locked the attention of the soldiers on him... and that they were uncomfortable. Good. They should be. "You've all heard things today you ain't supposed to, I get that. That we can't win the war in any sense but by making sure Narrius doesn't get his way, that we still get to write the history textbooks. That we can't win by playing by the rules, because there are no real rules in war, because war is honorless, war is cruel, war is a living force by itself, as terrible and cold as a natural disaster. It's chaos, and that the person who wins is the good guy... and that we might have to use some tricks to win that you've been taught are against code and law.

"But I will tell you that we do have a chance. No matter what else happens, we stand a chance... and that I will be there with you. I will march with you, and I will not... sit on the sidelines and cry and do nothing. Like you, I'm a soldier. Like you, I will be on the front lines, not just guiding the attacks but participating, because I'm not the smartest, and all I've really got going for me is the ability to swing a sword and shoot a gun." A pause and a soft laugh. "You call me a savior? I'm the same as every one of you, another grunt on the line of battle. And when you go out there, on whatever duties you got, you remember that. And that every kill you make means one less soldier for Narrius and maybe one less Commander, that every building we raze is one less facility, that every person we save is a boost to our forces. And remember that no matter how many of us die, there will be someone else to rise up and continue the fight...

"A million to one? So what?" Zerrex snorted and shrugged, shaking his head. "So what? We're ghosts... and for every one of us they do manage to take down, we kill a hundred of them and blow up three buildings, and that's following protocols that they already know, and that's with them using all their fancy technology and super weapons. But I'm sick of talking and I know I'm making no sense anymore... so let's get our asses in gear. Actions speak louder than words, anyway... so I'll be looking around to pick out some of you better soldiers, and I'll be ready and willing to prove myself to any one of you and be running through some new strategies I've got in mind. We've also got a major assault mission planned in the near future, and I'll be going myself to prove to you that I'm no angel." He paused and grinned. "Because angels don't kill, right? But enough of this."

The Drakkaren reached up and tossed his headset away, sending it skittering over the stage as he looked at the other dumbfounded reptiles, nodding curtly and saying mildly: "That went well." With that, he turned and jumped off the stage, heading giddily back to his quarters and once more feeling not just like an idiot, but like he'd done nothing but embarrass himself and screw up, anxiety rolling through him... despite the fact he could hear a loud clapping all around him as he pushed his way through the double doors... and into another flood of soldiers and civilians, all of them clapping and looking at him respectfully as well.

The reptile blushed, rubbing the back of his head as he stood in front of the crowd, then he walked forwards and carefully attempted to clear his path through the group, coughing a bit at the expressions on the soldiers around him, all of them chattering and murmuring, some of them tossing him cheers and comments, and a few seeming to follow him quickly through the crowd before he staggered out of the group and winced, quickly making his way towards an elevator with a few nonsensical murmurs.