Mounting Trepadation
Starfox: Liberation
Chapter 2: Mounting Trepidation
After he accepted their proposal, he had been ushered out of the room and into another. Alaric had no idea what was going on now. And he probably would have continued this way if not for a little help.
The attendant didn't leave him alone this time, the big man was of Slavic descent, much like himself, with a bulky body at least as big as Alaric's own. That was surprising, he had not thought that an attendant would be so well muscled. Most likely, he was a hidden bodyguard for the UEG leaders, and he was there to keep an eye on him.
He also carried a heavy accent with the quite obvious switching of certain words, and the lack of some words altogether. "You pleased to be following me?" The demand sounded more like a question but Alaric let it go, he didn't feel like being rude right now. The man led him along for a few minutes, down corridors and elevators. Every so often one or two people would go by, they would smile and wave in greetings. It was strange, being unrecognized as The Butcher Of New Athens, it was the first time in more then seven years people saw him and didn't scream in fear or snarl in rage.
Yet all it did was remind him of what he did. He felt as though they should recognize him, that surely what he had done visibly stained his hands, so that all could know who he was. It was a foolish notion, to think that they all would know his face. With a sigh, he looked to the window as he and the attendant passed it by.
Judging by the view outside, they were slowly but surely heading to the ground floor. When they reached it, Alaric gave it a gander. The front desk was manned by two woman, and the doors to the outside seemed to unceasingly disgorge people either blathering away on communication devices or tapping away hurriedly on holopads. The center of power on Terra was a busy place.
The attendant pointed to a door flanked by a pair of heavy armored soldiers. Their armor was airbrushed with the blue and grey of the 22nd Earth Gov Battalion. "There is your gear, and guide to ship." The attendant enunciated clearly.
Not bothering to say goodbye, he stepped away from the Slavic man and went up to the two guards. The silent sentinels moved to stand rigidly at the sides of the door, rifles clutched in firm gloved hands. These men were the highly trained elite, the ones who guarded the homeworld. Unintimidated, Alaric brushed past them and into the room they presided over.
Inside was a small armory of sorts, having a few racks of weapons and suits of armor. The rest of the space was occupied by a workbench, a vending booth, and a few off-duty soldiers scattered around. As Alaric walked up to the booth he wondered, why they were giving him weapons? Why would he need them? There was more going on then they explained to him. He set that aside when he stopped at the booth and bopped on the button twice, making it emit an annoying bleep. There was a feminine squeak of "just a second!" Under the counter. And then the supplier popped up, and stunned him.
This must be one of the Lylatians, some sort of lioness. The feline stood at a full height of six feet and had no hair, at least not the human type. Instead, her tan fur was short and all encompassing. Her eyes were a odd gold color, and had the natural feline slits. She was also wearing what he supposed the trappings of a quartermaster to be.
He had some knowledge of the UEG, it was just mostly limited to guard talk and the one who had treated him humanely. "Hello...can I help you?" She sounded a little offset by the man standing in front of her. Her...tail...was flicking back and forth nervously and she chewed on the tip of one of her claws from her right paw.
He didn't blame her, he wasn't exactly a normal looking guy. The years had not been kind to him. "I am here for my gear." He rumbled.
"Gear....gear....gear! oh! Of course sir! You must be mister Alaric!" She said coming to the conclusion of who he was. "I was told that you would be coming down here today." She rambled as she walked over to a chest at the far end of the stall and lifted it with a grunt of exertion. The feline woman was strong! That chest must have weighed at least one hundred and fifty pounds, if he were right in assuming its contents, and she lifted it with not too much difficulty and brought it down with bang on the counter. "Here you are sir!" She said exhaling loudly and leaning back. Her tail lazily flopped onto the counter, and twitched.
He was still a little unsettled by her, but made an effort to get used to it. Where he was going, there would be allot of them, and it wouldn't do to blow the mission because of a lack of courtesy. "Thank you...uh...ma'am."
She smiled brightly, flashing needle sharp fangs, causing him to take an involuntary step back. "Your welcome! And you can call me Maggie!" She mrowled sticking a tawny paw out invitingly.
"Uh okay then...Maggie." Alaric replied, grabbing her paw with his left hand and squeezing softly. He felt the warm pliable leathery pads of her palm and paw tips as he shook it. He found the feeling to be...pleasant. "Thanks."
"No prob!" She turned back around and began to rummage through a box, tail swing merrily back and forth. He took it as his que to leave. Alaric picked up the chest, with little to no effort, and walked to one of the tables nearby. He placed it down and slowly opened the lid, having a feeling that he knew what they had given him, and he wasn't wrong.
Inside lay something he had never hoped to see again. The dreaded armor of the Hydra's Fangs, or more specifically, his old suit. But how? How did they get this? And why did they keep it? That's when he figured it out, they wanted him to see it, to have to use it again. The armor he wore when he claimed untold lives in the name of a despotic regime.
It was a twisted form of irony, having one of the men responsible for defending an evil government, help its successors. With a reluctant sigh, he took the armor out of the chest and tossed it onto the table. It made an ominous bang that silenced the room. The soldiers in the room turned to the noise and their expressions went from curious to hostile. Some of these men had been around during the war, they had heard of him and his shameful deeds. Even the female lioness looked mortified that she had been talking with the butcher she had heard so much about from her human friends. He sighed at all their gazes, a man like him would never have friends.
Ignoring the scathing looks, he laid out the suit and found himself hesitantly touching the patch on the shoulder that signified all he despised. A three headed black hydra backed by flames with the number 66 stenciled underneath it, stared back damningly. He never wanted to see it again, but now it seemed not only would he be seeing it, but he would also be wearing it.
With a grimace he stripped down to his underclothes uncaring of the onlookers. What he didn't know was that their angry glances quickly turned into piteous ones, and even a gasp from the lioness.
He was not lying when he thought that years had been unkind.
In fact, he was underselling it. His muscular body once could have been considered appealing, if not for the grisly tapestry of scars. This was due to his years in the civil war and the rich clientele of the prison's warden. That was something that the regular populace never knew, it would have been considered criminal to do to a man, even for one such as he. In fact there were laws against such treatment, ironically, enacted by the UEG. Yet, in the dark pits of an underground prison, allot of things can be forgotten or simply ignored.
Alaric took a few minutes to adorn the vile plate armor, sliding into the pleated inner layer, adjusting the straps and tightening loose plates. It was designed for intimidation as much as it was for use. The deep black plates seemed to hold a certain impending malevolence. The helmet was even more frighting, so he let it be for now. He was in no hurry to see the dreaded visage.
Once he was kitted-out, he took a moment to get a feel for his old armor, as loath as he was to admit it, it was a seriously strong piece of hardware. It was made of steel infused with titanium and thick pseudo muscle strands, making it extremely durable and enhancing his already powerful body. As he finished tugging the left gauntlet on for a tight fit, he saw something gleam in the darkness of the chest. He grabbed the hilt of the item and brought it into the light.
It was the weapon that had really earned him his title. It was a GRENDAL ARMS energy blade. At the push of a button, the inner metal slats would unfold to its 36in length. Then the core inside the hilt would coat both sides of the blade in superheated blue plasmatic energy, making it hot enough to cleave through steel, flesh, and bone.
He shuddered at the memories of what he had done with the blade, and if it were up to him he would have destroyed it. But it seems that it was one of the weapons they gave him to use. He attached it to the clip on his waist designed to carry that weapon specifically, and checked the chest for any more items. Finding none, he sealed it back up.
After that unwelcome blast from the past, he plodded over to a rack and grabbed one of the guns. It was a standard pulse rifle, slightly different then the ones he used years ago. He looked it over, grabbed ammo off the wall, and went over to the table he had claimed for his own. As he went over his equipment, he started to brood.
All he wanted was to find a quite place and fade of the radar, a place where he could be happy, a place where he could have the life that had been taken and warped by the previous dictatorship. He would probably never get the chance, even though he took the deal from the UEG, they would never hold their promise. It was a fools hope to think that they would, but he hoped anyways, because hope was all he had left. He felt a bitter burning in his eyes and realized he was crying. How pathetic he must look, he wiped his eyes of the tears and focused on getting ready.
"Excuse me...mister Alaric?" He looked up from checking over his rifle to see the feline clerk, quartermaster, or whatever the hell she was, standing in front of him, nervously shuffling back and forth. She held onto her tail, clutching it to her chest with fiddling paws.
"What do you want?" His voice was thick with conflicting emotions as he tried to lock them down.
"I was tasked with getting you to your ship." Maggie replied quietly. She was confused, the Butcher Of New Athens was nothing like her friends had told her. They depicted him as a monstrous titanic demon, with no emotion and a brutal disposition. Yet, what she saw was a broken, tortured and scarred man.
The man grunted noncommittally, placed the rifle he holding on his back, and stood up to his full height. His already intimidating stature was compounded by his reputation, making her meep involuntarily. She gathered up her courage and led him out of the room. Taking a side door, they entered a deserted hallway. As she walked with her new infamous companion, she found herself briefly looking back to him several times.
He had a dangerous aura about him, but also one that triggered her sympathy. She had heard of how he and his men were unwilling participants of the war. Those truths were somewhat subdued by the new government, and so she had only heard of it from second and even thirdhand sources. She had always been interested in learning about the Hydra's Fangs since she first arrived in human space. Maggie felt a need to figure out why they did what they did, and now was probably the only time she would get the chance to get the truth firsthand.
"Uh....Mister Alaric sir?" She asked anxiously.
"What?" She heard him grunt from his place behind her.
"Uh....why...did...you do what you..uh...did?" She finished lamely.
She heard him sigh heavily and the tread of his armored boots come to a halt, worried that she had angered him, she mewled and turned around. But when she saw him, he wasn't angry, he just looked...depressed. "Why do you want to know? You wouldn't even believe me anyways." He muttered sadly.
"I heard that you and your men were conscripted and that you did what you did because you had to." She replied, she was chewing on the tip of her tail now, a habit that had pursued her since her days as a cub on her home planet of Katina.
"That is true, but what does it matter now? I still killed those people, if I had been a real man, I would have refused the orders given to me!" He snarled at her.
But Maggie wasn't scared, she knew he was more angry with himself then with her. She didn't know how she knew, but she did. "But wouldn't your men have suffered with you?"
One of the biggest rumors about them was that Alaric had done all the worst of the killing, some people said it was because he was just a sadistic bastard. Others argued that it was because he wanted to spare his men from the terrible deeds.
"....yes." He said quietly. He did not like talking about the unforgivable things he had done. And here he was now, spilling his guts to some random lylatian woman. "Although...sometimes, I think it would have been better if we had all just died."
Maggie had a feeling that he would not say more so she resumed guiding him. Ten tense minutes later, they stopped at the small hanger underneath the governmental building. This is where he was supposed to be. "Here you are mister Alaric, the hanger."
"Please, just call me Alaric." He said, making her turn to face him. He had an almost undetectable smile as he held one of his gauntlets out to her. The first one she had seen on him since they met. "You have been the first person in seven years to talk with me like a human being." He chuckled at the irony, yet it was a warm and friendly one. "Thank you."
She grasped his out stretched hand with her right paw, the contact sent shivers down her spine. "No thanks needed, Lylatians are of a more friendlier breed then humans, no offense."
"None taken, may your days he happy ones Maggie." He rumbled, and turned to walk away, heading to the organized chaos of the hanger bay. He had been so fast that she had not had the chance to say goodbye, the female feline felt a tinge of regret but brushed it off. She left the hanger and headed back to her booth. The work day was for from over.
Yet, when she would later find herself back in the small apartment she rented, Maggie would think back to the man she had met.
Alaric left without letting the cat woman say goodbye. He was not one for other people's farewells. He entered the hanger bay, and looked for the leading mechanic, all he had to do was follow the yelling.
"You think that it will fly like that huh? WELL IT BLOODY WELL WON'T!" He found the wrathful red haired man shouting at a few unlucky underlings standing around an Aurora strike craft. He was giving them one hell of a dressing down, but stopped, (much to their relief), when he noticed Alaric walking over. "I'm not done with you yet lads!" He muttered and went to meet him halfway. "What can I do for you...butcher?" He added the last part with a hint of disdain.
"I'm here for my ship." He growled back.
"Well then let's go. The sooner I get your sodding carcass out of my hanger the better." The man replied pointedly and motioned for him to follow.
Alaric snarled when he heard that but did not do anything about it. He wanted to get away from the bastard and kicking his ass would only prolong his departure. Alaric went after the man, sidestepping busy workers and load bearing vehicles. Their path soon led to a massive dilapidated old freighter, it looked like it belonged in the scrapyard.
"Here she is, the The Serpents Lair, she's a grand old ship isn't she? Has a fitting name too." His voice was mocking and he had a villainous smile.
"She's a piece of shit." Alaric grunted angrily.
"Yeah well, I wanted to get a ship that suited its owner." The red haired man said, his smile turning into a sadistic grin.
Alaric growled and closed his armored hands into fists, the urge to murder the man was becoming almost uncontrollable. But with a supreme strength of will he pushed the kill-urge back down and replied coldly. "You know what they say, shoddy ships, come from shoddy men."
The man's smile fell, turning into grimace. "Just get the hell out of my hanger." He grunted dismissively and walked away, ignoring the obvious insult.
Alaric let him go and walked to the ramp that would lead him up into the ship, and his chance at redemption.