I'm back.

Chapter Six: His Problems with Mercenaries

June 39, 219 PGW 0900
En Route to Red Sector, Arcsernea

The shuttle and its nine occupants were unusually quiet as it soared above the clouds and reflected the bright morning sun. The rest of Fireteam Zero was here, the three other leaders of RecForce: Shawn, Raul and Charlie. Staff Sergeant Remington and two privates, also from ASOD, sat in the back of the shuttle. The pilot and the copilot silently flew the plane to their destination.

James was reading a book on the different religions on Earth (the Arcserneans were all atheists). He was immersed in one religion at the moment which they called Christianity; it was about the son of an all-powerful god, also present in at least two other religions in different forms, which came to Earth and died for all of humanity's sins. He also learned that his birth was the basis on what became Earth's official calendar circa 160 BGW.

"We're approaching the sixty-degree-north line," announced their pilot, codenamed Bright Shadow.

"Where are we headed, anyway?" asked James, closing his book.

"You're going to the northernmost reaches of Red Sector," sneered Bright Shadow. "We're going to sweep the whole sector clean of those mercenaries. Today's assignment will be to establish a new base; I'll back you guys up on that."

The clouds stealthily disappeared, and water vapor faded into snow. All that could be seen was snow and some hills dotting the landscape. A vast forest rushed underneath; James thought if they went any lower, they would start knocking off branches.

Fifteen minutes of winter wonderland later, the shuttle circled around a clearing and landed slightly north of the center. Fireteam Zero and Remington's team walked out and looked around.

"These mercs picked a good place this time," Remington told the other six. "Last time they made us go to the desert. Brown Sector is the worst, I tell you."

"Sentinel One, do we get air support out here?" asked Charlie-13.

"Hell no. I'm too scared of this sector. I'll pick you guys up when all the mercs are dead."

"Coward," muttered Remington.

"Now what do we do?" asked James.

"Well, James, as the leader you get to decide on how we take on a million mercenaries with three special forces agents, a medic, an intel officer, a berserker, and yourself," said a private, smirking."

"Shut up, private!" barked Remington.

"Hey, Alpha, can you throw your sledgehammer far enough to hit Sentinel? I want to kill him; he promised us air support and chickened out."

"So what do we get?" asked Delta-17.

"We get four shovels, a tarp, and three meals for each of us," replied the other private, "guess we have to dig a hole."

James scooped up a pile of snow in boredom, and watched as it evaporated into Arctic Gas in his hand (Arcsernea had no water, of course). The gas was the Arcsernean equivalent of helium, albeit with a higher freezing temperature.

"This ground is hard," said Alpha-02. "Unless..."

And with those words, he brought his sledgehammer down on the icy crust of soil, and exposed the softer soil beneath.

"Okay," began James. "Four of us stay and dig; I'll take two to explore. Charlie and Delta, you're with me. Shawn, listen to me. You have to stay. These mercs could come busting in at any moment. I know they didn't give you three any weapons, so I brought one for you. Use it well."

James removed the second weapon attached to his Nexus Rifle; it was about a metre and a half long, and consisted of three small connected chainguns, which rotated individually, which delivered thrice the firepower. It ran on three ammunition cells at a time, and Shawn received thirty.

"This is the MC-71 TBHWS. I call it the Berserker. A fitting name," James explained, laughing. "Now, I can barely wield this thing, but with all those steroids they pumped into you I think this is lighter than air."

Shawn bowed his head and took the chaingun.

As the four selected agents got to digging, James, Charlie and Raul headed for the woods.

About a half hour later, they came to a halt. Charlie pointed out into the distance.

"See that, guys? The mercs are there."

A small guard tower with two mercenaries inside stood about a stone's throw from their hiding rock. A stone's throw for Shawn, anyway.

"Think they're alone?" asked Raul.

"Let's find out," replied James.

James then wielded his Nexus Rifle and fired two rockets which destroyed the outpost in a dazzling red burst.

"You two run," he instructed, "because they know we're here." He pointed a finger at approaching silhouettes.

The silhouettes were covered by snowfall, as the cold barrel of an assault rifle pressed down on James's ear.

"Do you know what this is?" asked the person on the other end of the rifle.
He nodded. Indeed, he could even tell what model it was, and how long it had been in service.

"Then unless you want me to use it, I suggest you drop that funny-looking weapon you got there. And that bomb on your leg."

He dropped the rifle and the unarmed bomb and stood with his hands raised.

"Good boy. I have to tell most people to put their hands up," said the mercenary.

However, James, while getting up from his crouch, raised his hands and slightly inclined his head while rising. It was nothing too noticeable, but it allowed him to open a small container on his shoulder. The only way to see the contents was to be up close and staring directly into the hole.

With a slight gravity push with his left forearm, James intercepted a tiny detonator with his lips and returned to a normal state.

The mercenary motioned in the direction they were meant to go. They started down a narrow trail that presumably led deeper into the forest, and into their encampment. As James stole a glance back, he noticed that there was a good three metres between him and his captor. He would live, at least...

With a slight acceleration, James estimated the distance between the two. When it increased to what he presumed was three and a half metres, he moved the detonator and placed it between his teeth.
Three taps on a 4-number pad armed the bomb. Three, one, two, one.

The distance reached four metres. However, even the mercenary noticed this.

"Where are you going? Get back here!" he commanded, pointing his rifle at the agent.

Damn it! He would have to redo his plan.

The path curved to the left, and James saw his advantage. He estimated the reaction time of the
mercenary, and wondered.

An old sky tree approached them, inside the curve of the path. Perfect.

Three metres...

James pushed the fifth button on the right, the DETONATE button, and a second time for confirmation.

One and a half metres...

Four seconds. Three seconds.

One metre...

Two seconds. One second.

At a quarter of a second, he pounced at the trunk and bounded off into the forest. His fall was cut halfway by the explosion, as he was propelled through the air, through the plant life, and rolled down a hill, unconscious, burned from the explosion, and in the middle of a vast arctic forest.

* * *

Charlie was running west, into the deeper wilderness, closer to James. Once at a safe point, she would plan a route back to base.

She dropped from the trees and landed quietly on a cleared path with the dead-aim precision nobody else in RecForce could beat.

Minutes later, she saw the mercenary's blasted remains, and a blackened patch of forest. James and his fire bombs, she thought to herself, smiling. So where was James?

Looking south, she saw broken twigs and fallen snow, as though something had been thrown through here. And it was large.

Farther down, there was a broken, large tree branch. It was covered in blood, her smile fading away into a fear for the worst. The fear was realized when she saw what was lying at the bottom of the slope.

James, covered in blood, missing a large patch of skin on his cheek, was all but dead, with smoke rising all around his body. He seemed to also be choking on a small metal object. The detonator.

Charlie now knew why she had been training so closely with James now. She had the talent and intelligence. He had the resourcefulness and adaptation. Combined strengths, not to mention the other thirty-three exceptional agents, was what made RecForce nearly unstoppable.

Dislodging the detonator, she took out the radio and contacted Raul.

"James got hit by his own firebomb. I'll explain once you get everyone here. And tell Bright Shadow to come. If he chickens out again, remind him we have the power of generals and we're giving him an order.

"Gotcha, Charlie. Signing out."

With this, Charlie covered up James's body to protect him from the cold, and jumped up into a tree, waiting for the dropship.

No, the world will not end in 2012.

As I'm heading on down to the gay pride rally,
I see Marty kissing Jeff, and Kim groping Sally,
But I'm not gay, I'm not here to attend,
I'm here to do what's right and bring this shit to an end.

Then I preach my cause, I show them the way,
I teach why it's not a good thing to be gay,
And those who disagree,
We deliver the pain,
And that's why I have a shiny forty-inch cane.

I know it's not right, it fills me with spite,
But I do what I do to give me reason to smile,
It's all insanity, with their profanity,
Our most powerful minority makes me go the extra mile.

We've come a long way since we've been ruled by whites
But in this desperate scenario, the Republicans were right,
They're more and more flamboyant, they're all gaining power,
It's time to turn the tables and turn this party sour,

I don't yell "I'm straight!" but they yell "I'm gay!"
My friends don't yell "We're Mexican!" every single fucking day,
I'm growing too paranoid, I'm fighting the trend,
It's time to bring this thing to a well-hoped for end.

I know it's not right, it fills me with spite,
But I do what I do to give me reason to smile,
It's all insanity, with their profanity,
Our most powerful minority makes me go the extra mile.

I know it's not right, it fills me with spite,
But I do cause I need one last reason to smile,
It's a calamity, with their profanity,
And I will fight till the day of my death sentence trial,

I know it's not right, but neither are they,
Because it's not right, to be flamboyantly gay,

Sexuality is a choice...

and they chose wrong,

This book consists of the last ideas i had while on my two-month break. I really have to think now, as I come up with something new for Chapter 6. Feel free to give me suggestions.

Total length: 4 pages and 2 lines. This is the shortest chapter so far.

Chapter Five: Seillon's Duel

February 38, 219 PGW 0830 Hours
Dueling Ground, ASOD City-Complex, Capital Sector, Arcsernea

The next six years were filled with training for precision shooting. It involved firing a gun at exactly the right angle; to block bullets, to sometimes make guns explode, and, in Foxtrot-28's case, to manipulate gravity and fire it at a select angle based on acceleration.

On James's seventeenth birthday, Charlie-13, Alpha-02, Delta-17 (who had installed a second projector that worked in reverse in James, allowing him to repel objects), and James were all called to the dueling ground above the fourth floor of a service tower.

At 0837, they arrived. Much to their surprise, this duel was live fire.

"I trust your medical friend will help you," explained Seillon, "as well as me. You have an interest in self-mutilation; do you not, Foxtrot-28?"

"That's all thanks to Charlie and this medic-"

"Raul."

"Raul, yes. They've turned me into a fucking magnet."

Mr. White smiled. He continued, "Now, James, if you would be kind enough to step forward," motioning with his arm towards him.

James and Charlie exchanged a kiss, and then the former began to walk into the dueling arena.

Mr. White raised an invisible barrier from an outside control panel. "We wouldn't want your friends to get hurt, now, would we?"

James smiled. He tossed his Nexus Rifle to Shawn, who managed to throw in a pistol just before the barrier activated.

"Bow," commanded Mr. White.

Student and master bowed in unison.

An ASOD soldier came over to officially start the duel.

"One..."

James checked his gun was loaded. Mr. White stood silently.

"Two..."

James put his pistol in the starting direction, straight at the ground. Mr. White did the same.

"Commence!"

James ducked the first bullet and fired two of his own, which were deflected by two of Mr. White's. Mr. White fired a fourth bullet, but James had already jumped into the air and done a backflip the moment Mr. White's finger squeezed the trigger.

James kept his gun steady; ready to shoot Mr. White once he was out of ammo. White fired one bullet to the left of James as a distraction, and then pulled off three rounds that would all have been fatal to James, but the latter spread his palm wide and the three bullets drastically reduced speed and fell.

Mr. White was on his last round. James had only fired two rounds, so he had almost a full clip, ready to fire.

Finally, the bullet came. James was about to manipulate gravity again, but Mr. White sank his last bullet right between the radius and the ulna, and disabled James's attracting hand.

James quickly switched his weapon to the other hand and fired three in quick succession. Mr. White instantly calculated the angle of the bullets and began to move just before James's reflexes kicked in.

Mr. White backed away to his starting position. James took the opportunity to reload, and assumed
Mr. White was doing the same.

He was not.

The minute James crouched to refill his clip. Mr. White, who still had his strong hand, chucked his gun straight at James. He skidded back to the very edge, behind his starting position, fading out of consciousness.

James's vision was going blurry, but still saw that familiar figure moving to retrieve his gun. James kicked it away.

The moment Mr. White made the mistake of turning around, James made a blind jump in an attempt to land on his master's back. He failed but fell next to a blurry grey object, which he proceeded to pick up.

Three of the bullets clipped Mr. White's legs, and the fourth hit him in the left knee. Five, six, and seven proceeded up his left thigh, eight hit on his right upper thigh, and the final bullet hit right between the last two, shattering one of Mr. White's organs and causing him to scream in pain.

James, almost completely in whiteout mode, dragged Mr. White to Raul, and said, "Let's call it a draw."

An hour later, he woke up in a hospital, surrounded by the spectators of the duel, Mr. White, and two medical robots.

"Mr. White!" he began, "I'm sorry about your-"

"I am one hundred and four years old, Foxtrot-28; I have no use for that body part anyway."
Shawn smiled.

The medical robot cut in, "Sir, you are almost at one hundred percent mobility now. Recovery Agent
Charlie-13 has repaired the gravity projector attached to your arm."

James managed a successful test of it by making the nearby scalpels (and the table they were on) soar to his hand.

James pulled down his cover and got out of the hospital bed. He quickly put on his outer robe; the robots had not removed the inner one while operating on him.

"What a fine way to end your training, James," remarked Mr. White.

"So what'll you do now that training is over, Mr. White?" asked Charlie.

"Well, it all starts back from 195, when the battlecruiser was destroyed."

"What about it?" asked Raul.

"They say the Admiral was destroyed when his ship was destroyed. Sadly, everyone but the Admiral perished.

"The Admiral had almost returned from a ground visit, when the ship exploded from over a thousand charges placed by the mercenaries. A sympathizer activated them. He went insane from survivor's guilt, and he returned to ASOD CC and changed his last name.

"So where is he now?" James asked.

"What is the Admiral's first name?"

"Seillon..." mused Charlie.

"Could it be a coincidence that both of you were named Seillon?"

"Seillon is a very ancient name, given to only those who deserve it. The name means "Naval Leader", so why would I have that name as a trainer? Why is my first name classified? Why was one of the last to know my first name openly none other than Danforth Remington, who had traveled with me on my flagship?"

It all made sense now...

"You're the Admiral."

Shawn couldn't have said it any simpler.

"Yes, Shawn, I am."

The five of them exited the hospital, Raul and Charlie supporting James as he regained his walking ability.

* * *

"Agents! Report to the landing deck!" Mr. White called.

Fifteen minutes later, all the RecForce agents had arrived, dressed in their ceremonial robes.

"Now," Mr. White began, "there is a new battlecruiser with access to space and super-light speed. We have calculated the position of Earth, easily accessible from this city-complex, at a certain angle. Earth should be reached in six months at cruising speed.

"With this, I say goodbye, and I hope to see you again when I return."

All the agents gave a salute in unison.

"It is 0956; I hope that thing comes already," mused Mr. White.

Another minute later, a large behemoth coming from the Imperial City glided a hundred metres above ASOD CC.

Four crewmen opened an airlock and attached grappling hooks to a pipe above the airlock. They pointed their ascension guns toward the pipe and lowered themselves toward the landing deck.

"Good to see you in action, Admiral," one of them said with a smile. "It's been twenty-four long years since we've been up there on the final frontier."

"Thank you, Ensign," replied Mr. White. "Agents, good luck in your military career. James, you have to take my full responsibility."

James saluted and said, "Yes, sir."

Another of the four asked Mr. White, "Is that the guy that shot one of your balls?"

Seillon White gave an intimidating stare and asked, "How did you know about that?"

The man shrank, "Sorry sir, but one of my buddies was doing a patrol run and saw you guys, and watched your duel. Sorry, sir."

"Great," sarcastically commented Mr. White. "Now the whole cruiser's going to laugh at me."

The five figures ascended to the now-open airlock. As James and the others looked on, a slight rain began to fall. The airlock then closed and the cruiser began to turn.

Accelerating, the new battlecruiser sped through Arcsernea's atmosphere, through the beautiful white altocumulus clouds, and faded into a black speck. The next moment, it disappeared as its powerful engines pushed it into faster-than-light speed.

James and the other agents did not know it at the time, but none of the thirty-five would see the ensign, the friend of the pilot who saw the duel, or either of the two others ever again. They would also never see the battlecruiser or Admiral Seillon White for the rest of their lives.

As James and Charlie and Shawn and all the other agents went back to ASOD CC to throw James a birthday party, complete with a two-metre tall cake and the food fight with the bottom half metre of that same cake, James still had that sad, empty feeling inside him, as there was nothing in his life that could ever, ever replace his first and only master.

First off, I wrote this in five hours. So that's reliability for you. Albino Titan, I cut back down to 5 pages just so I could finish this damn thing, so see if it's still TLDR for you. Dead Aim Mafia, I sent my cane in the mail.

Chapter Four: Executioner's New Rifle

May 40, 213 PGW 1545 Hours
Armory, ASOD City-Complex, Capital Sector, Arcsernea

The dating system originated from Earth. The seconds were slightly extended by a fraction of a millisecond to make each day exactly twenty-seven and a half hours. The remarkable thing was, however, that Arcsernea took exactly 480 local days to revolve around its sun. This allowed all twelve of the Earth months to have forty days.

James had been sitting with the rest of the agents in the armory. Tomorrow, they would go on their first field mission and were getting customized equipment.

"Your first scheduled field mission," explained Mr. White to them, "was supposed to take place four years from now, but if this mission is a success, then we will progress into our next stages of training."

Cutting off the calisthenics was a good prospect for the agents, and boosted their morale.

"Your assignment is to guard the area where the new space cruiser is being brought into action. Alert someone if you see any saboteurs. Only use fire when necessary," he finished.

Mr. White proceeded to pass out stun guns to every recruit. When he had his back turned, James silently unscrewed a vent and grabbed his Nexus rifle, conveniently hidden on a shelf nearby. He then placed it in the vent and screwed it back on. This was a place James would have to revisit today.

When everyone had gotten a stun gun, Mr. White had proceeded to give individual equipment to each agent. The equipment was customized for each of their needs. James saw Shawn played around with his collapsible 30-kilo sledgehammer, while Jeffrey, who became Echo-25, inspected his technologically advanced global positioning system.

Charlie-13 was especially happy with her neural shades, which required the user to insert a jack into their temple, received all commands directly from the brain and projected visual data onto the shades themselves.

Finally, Mr. White got to James. His piece of technical equipment was rather strange; it projected an adjustable gravity field which could be used, for example to manipulate the weight of the object he was holding or to attract objects out of reach. He resolved to talk to Charlie and see if she could modify it; James wanted it to serve a certain purpose...

All of Recovery Force slept like dogs that night, and most did not wake up until 1400 hours. They needed all the rest they could get before the big day.

James woke up a half hour earlier. Nobody, including the agents, needed to know about this.

ASOD CC was silent today. Some of the soldiers stumbled around occasionally, but otherwise the place was dead silent. The armory was two stops away, but James decided not to take the tram in case of suspicious soldiers.

He cut through a cafeteria and a service hallway that led to an air vent. James opened this vent, which could fit him inside, and replaced the grate once he entered. He let go of the sides of the vent and dropped down from the ninth floor to the first.

This was where Charlie's modifications suited James. She replaced the solar panels on the projector with a bio-feeding power cord, similar to her jack. A Delta medic anesthetized his arm and helped James attach his projector to a blood vessel between the radius and ulna in his forearm.

He could now bend gravity with his hand, at the cost of another permanent scar. One who did not know James could have looked at his right arm and wonder why there was a stop sign carved into it.

The agent immediately threw his arm up and curled up his fingers into a tight fist. Along with putting heavy pressure on the vent, James could now safely float down to the first floor grate.

The grate came open and closed once James left the vent. He was now in a maintenance room with two vents; the one he just left, and the one with his Nexus Rifle.

There was one mechanic in the room, and he was inspecting the other vent, which was considerably smaller. As he opened the hatch, a cool breeze floated out. The mechanic looked up, stuck out his arm to feel the current, looked at the meter, and prepared to close the vent and mark it as normal.

Then something caught his eye.

The mechanic spotted the N1 Nexus Rifle. It was an odd gun, the likes of which had never been seen before. With a sleek black finish, there were lighted red lines that traced where the rifle opened (to insert rounds), a lighted red area under the barrel flaps, and an illuminated ammunition indicator.

"What the hell..." he muttered.

James's hand attracted his stun gun, and he fired at the mechanic. He got the rifle, closed the small vent, opened and closed the large vent, and pressed his wrist as tightly as possible so that the gravity field would be so strong as to lift him up.

The vent would need a major fixing from this pressure though...

James returned just in time. He stowed his Nexus Rifle under his bed, and pretended to be asleep for five more minutes until the recruits started to get up.

* * *

At 2240, all thirty-five got on a shuttle at the same docking pad they arrived to ASOD CC at. The ride took them south of the Imperial City, in the midst of a large open space.

The agents stepped out onto the asphalt and looked around.

"Damn," said Shawn. "I could fit ten thousand cars in here. And where's the cruiser?"

Mr. White pointed down and boarded the shuttle, which left immediately. Not immediately enough, however, as James was able to grab the Nexus Rifle attached to the bottom.

"How'd you get that?" asked Jeffrey.

"Built it," responded James.

"No, I mean how did you get it here? Mr. White said no lethal weapons."

"All he said was only use lethal force when necessary."

"So what do we do now?" asked Gamma-35.

"Okay. Look far out," instructed Charlie, "and you'll see a fence surrounding this place."

"Not hard to see when you're in an empty, giant parking lot in the dead of night."

"Shut up," answered Charlie. "Now, Fireteam Delta, stay here and set up a camp. We'll need medics if people come. Someone get that jeep over here.

The Brown Sector twins, Rosa and Lotus, climbed over the fence. Out there, they hotwired an old jeep and drove it back through the far gate.

"We'll need that for transport," continued Charlie. "Everyone remember to keep your headsets on.
Charlie-11, go north. -12 go west, -14 go east, and -15 go south. I'll stay in the center and relay general orders; I have the best suited equipment."

"Fireteam Foxtrot, we're going east. Princess, you're our lookout," commanded James. "Stay near the northeast corner and tell me if you see anyone coming."

Princess Shauna acknowledged this command.

"Salem, go southeast and be our lookout there."

"Prince Arx, Rachel, you guys go patrol the east side and notify Charlie-13 or -14 if anything goes wrong."

Both acknowledged this command as well.

Charlie thought, Open radar screen. Instantly, radar appeared on the inside of her right lens. It showed the thirty-five blips of the agents, no surprises there, but also showed two unidentified contacts moving from the east and west. She relayed this information to the agents.

"Charlie, check the landing schedules of the shuttles and try to get a match," called James.

"Yessir," she replied, and carried out the command. There was a plane due to land at 2305 carrying parts that came from Naxos. There was no scheduled arrival of a westbound plane, however.

"Foxtrot, we got trouble. That thing coming in from the east is not registered. I repeat that thing is not registered."

"Gotcha, Charlie," replied James, and smiled for the first time in his entire career.

The westbound plane dropped from the skies and came to land about two kilometres away from the compound. James steadied his Nexus Rifle.

"Remember, when you shoot you lose the element of surprise," he said in a deceptively calm tone. "They think that all that's here is the cargo plane. So only shoot if there's nothing left."

James steadied his Nexus Rifle and peered through the scope. He adjusted the scope to 37.5x zoom, almost maximum, and increased brightness by ten. He saw a shady figure and a stray red dot in the upper left corner. He increased brightness up to fifteen and decreased zoom to 35x. The red dot came from a scope-aiming at James himself.

"Brace yourselves!" he shouted to the agents. He fired four rockets at their plane and dropped as a sniper round sailed above him. The others on the east fence began to spray with their stun guns, hoping that the charge could still do damage from two kilometres.

James hopped up the fence and let out a stream of his twenty remaining rockets. The explosions forced the mercenaries back.

"Charge 'em!" yelled Arcserne, ready to hop over.

"No! They still have guns!" contradicted James.

"I have an idea. It'll be painful, but it just might work!" said Delta-12.

"What is it?" asked James.

"That projector in your arm, it carried you up a vent, right?"

James caught on. Delta-12 wanted him to use the thing to fly, and James obliged. He made a fist as tightly as he could. Moments later, he activated the projector, which carried him up into the air.

Moving at about 40 kilometres an hour, James was put under tremendous pressure. His hand hurt from putting stress on itself, but if James ended up unclenching his fist, he would fall and get splattered.

Another thing James had to do was stay within a certain range. The projector had a gravity field of about a metre and a half. If James's body went too far from the projector, he would slow. However, the impulse in his body was to curl up around the projector. This, however, would also cause him to fall.

Fifty metres above the mercs, James fired his stun gun randomly, hoping to subdue some of them.
Bullets narrowly missed him, and James was put under enormous stress. He quickly soared away and thought of what to do next.

Time for a little bloodshed.

Shawn on the west side ran to the cargo plane. The pilot was surprised there were people here, and even more surprised after Shawn convinced him that the mercs were here. The pilot obliged in giving the agent his emergency pistol, with two clips, nine bullets each.

He sprinted to the east fence and fired at the mercenaries. Each of the nine bullets hit a separate merc, and all nine dropped dead.

"Save the other clip for an emergency," James instructed.

There was only a small platoon left now.

Shawn hadn't heard James' last order. As he shot two more rounds, James ran to Shawn to repeat the orders. When Alpha-02 fired his third shot, everything changed.

Later in their training, the agents would start precision shooting, or shooting to block an incoming bullet or another small target. For now, it was just luck. As a merc aimed to fire at Shawn, the latter fired a round which perfectly entered the barrel and exploded.

Six rounds, five mercs, and one eager agent. Nothing could be in better state.

It was 2345 by now, and when a shuttle arrived to pick the agents up at 0630, there had been no more attacks.

Were you looking for the third chapter of Recovery Force? If so, click here.

I am almost 30 years of age. As I approach this horrible and glorious day, I have come to realize something - what about queer bashing?

I have beaten up over 90 homosexuals in my lifetime. Nothing too serious to get arrested. But I have realized that I am too old to continue. I can no longer produce the same results I did a year ago, at my prime.

I now retire to exclusively writing Recovery Force, writing songs, and just generally living. I'll still be here, with no change. But I will no longer be thrilled when I write, for there is nothing more to be thrilled about.

I now pass the mantle of Grand Queer Basher to my nephew and good friend, Dead Aim Mafia. Good luck out there.

This one is longer by about 20%.

Chapter Three: Man of No Name

May 30, 213 PGW 0800 Hours
Central Hall, ASOD City-Complex, Capital Sector, Arcsernea

Arcsernea had once been a colony of Earth. The Great War changed all that. When the Arcserneans had defeated the Humans, the two planets had broken contact and never detected each other again. However, it was still a mandatory part of the RecForce curriculum.

The next few days had become orderly. On four out of five days, the recruits rose at 0800, began attending their classes at 0830, ate at 1300, finished classes at 1630, and went to sleep around 2420 (the Arcsernean day had 27 and a half hours).

After twelve days, Recovery Force was summoned to the same room they had passed Mr. White's challenge.

"I have taken some serious consideration of your behaviors," he began. "There are seven fireteams in Recovery Force, and the five best at each of the seven tasks will be selected.

"You will, from now on, be bonded to those in your fireteam. These are your new brothers and sisters, but take care to know the others as well! You thirty-five will produce a well-oiled machine that cannot be destroyed!"

Nice propaganda, thought Charlie.

"First," he announced, "Fireteam Alpha, the masters of raw power itself!"

Shane was selected into this group. He became their commander, Alpha-02.

"Second!" Mr. White shouted. "Fireteam Bravo, those destined to survive!"

James supposed this means tolerance to the elements. Five recruits were named into Bravo. The twins went to this fireteam.

"Third!" continued Mr. White. "Fireteam Charlie, the most intelligent!"

Charlie was signed on as Charlie-13, and James smiled. So convenient.

"Fourth!" proclaimed Mr. White. It was a sight to see him shout like this, and the numbers got louder and louder. "Fireteam Delta, the redeemers of Recovery Force!"

These were the medics, apparently.

"Fifth! Fireteam Echo, retrievers of Recovery Force!"

"Seventh! Fireteam Golf, the infiltrators of Recovery Force!"

At this point, Mr. White pointed to the recruits and rolled them off his tongue. But then, everything stopped. The party realized that the number six had been skipped. Mr. White now spoke in a low voice.

"And sixth. Fireteam Foxtrot, the best of the best of the best on Arcsernea. Every soldier in the complex vied for your positions as children.

"You are the most versatile Recovery Force operatives. I have named each team's special task. You must do just as well in all six. Use your... natural talents..." Mr. White smiled.

"Foxtrot 26! Salem David!" Salem, a dark-skinned son of traders from northern Brown Sector saluted and stood with all the other thirty.

"Foxtrot 27! Shauna D'Arane!" The daughter of Arcsernean emperor Alexis II bowed and stood by Salem.

"Foxtrot 29! Rachel Stearns!" Rachel joined the increasing number.

"Foxtrot 30! Arcserne D'Arane!" Prince Arcserne XVIII joined his sister. James knew Mr. White was zeroing in on him, making him nervous.

"And let's not forget our commander, Foxtrot 28! Our most valued soldier here! James Montague!"

James gave a crisp salute and trooped back to the stairwell.

* * *

From that point on, the four other agents were almost his family. The five of them lived together, trained together, and practiced on each other.

The other thirty were also usually present, except for the special drills. The first two work days of the Arcsernean five-day week, six fireteams used an extra hour after class to receive special fireteam training. Fireteam Foxtrot used the other two days to learn all six courses of training.

May 31 was the rest day, and the agents all walked back to their room after breakfast. A notice was posted on the board, and this notice made the other four days seem much better.

"Dear Agents," read Shawn to the crowd, "As you know, we have been educating you on work days. However, to succeed in the field, you must also be physically prepared. Starting 0900 today and right after breakfast all other rest days, you will report to the training ground (see any ASOD personnel for location)."

Most of the agents groaned. They wanted to rest their brains, but had no will to exercise for a full day.

A sergeant they met on the elevators directed them to the training ground, which was an open green on top of a six-story section of the city-complex.

"Welcome," said Mr. White when everybody came. "Today these drill sergeants will help carry out my curriculum. You will do this once every week for six hours, five today, with appropriate breaks.

Gentlemen," he called to the drill sergeants, "do as you wish."

The drill sergeants quickly began to assign random exercises, starting with two hundred pushups. They made sure each agent did at least two hundred.

"For every one you don't do well," one growled, "I make you do three good ones." This incited the agents to do all two hundred perfectly.

When everyone was finished, the sergeants gave them ten seconds' rest, and then hit them with two hundred fifty jumping jacks, ten seconds' rest, and then three hundred squats. Twenty-three minutes in, Mr. White called for a water break.

"You all have two minutes to rest before we run the perimeter of this city-complex," he announced, which scared most of the agents. Seven kilometres is a lot of running.

"Foxtrot-28," he called. James came up to Mr. White, wondering what he had done.

"That is enough for you. Private Wallace Remington will train you differently today. He waits on the twelfth floor at your tower. Go."

James, exhausted, secretly stole away so the recruits wouldn't notice, and descended below the green. He took a short hallway, remembering the path the sergeant showed him, and took the elevator; this was not the time for stairs.

"Hey, kid," came a voice to his left. "Happy I picked you up when I did?"

"Yes sir," replied James, "Seven kilometres is too much for me."

"You don't need to call me sir. I should be calling you sir, actually, but not yet," answered Remington. His soothing drawl was back, just as it had been on the shuttle, but not after the first training session.

James was genuinely puzzled.

"See," continued Remington, "Your training is over in about six years. Towards the end, you'll be practicing outside this place. You'll probably visit all nine sectors; a lot of nice places on this planet...

"But back to my point: your training will end with a field mission, more dangerous too. They will put you in the midst of Red Sector itself. Hopefully, you'll get to see the only lake in the entire planet.
You've heard of Blackwater Lake, right?"

James gulped. He replied, "So what's your point?"

Remington chuckled. "With that mission comes the privilege of being to boss around everyone, and for you that also includes your fireteam and being a Foxtrot all the other fireteams. The only people in this world that you answer to are the emperor and Seillon White."

James wondered if Mr. White's first name was also classified information, like the original Recovery Force.

Remington motioned to James, and the other two descended to the fifth floor, where the tram was.
They took the tram to the easternmost station, which was conveniently the next one. From there, Remington took James into another elevator, which took them up to the high rim of the complex.

A tower jutted and stopped one story short of the rim, and like the training ground, something was located outside on top of the tower, in this case a docking pad. The two climbed into Remington's fighter, James getting in the copilot seat, and took off.

The silent flight was shorter than James expected; the fighter landed about five kilometres away from the ASOD building. The global positioning system told James that they had landed by the Arcsernean canal, just northwest of zero degrees, zero degrees. To prove it, as James looked up, stood what stands on those coordinates, which every child knows from a young age: The Imperial Palace.

The Imperial Palace had perfect quadrilateral symmetry from the outside, down to every brick encased between the plaster and wooden walls. It stood on a block of marble, fifty metres tall and wider than anything James had ever imagined in the pictures. A huge arch was cut from every side of the block, allowing the canal to pass from north to south, or back, whichever way the boats traveled, and allowing the equatorial main street to go under the palace in a latitudinal manner.

In his classes in Naxos's school and in ASOD's history classes, he learned of a city on Earth that was more legend than fact, called Atlantis. The Imperial City of Arcsernea (the namesake of the planet, the city, the current prince, and many things was the closest thing the people had to a god) was more realistic, as the people there were more realistic and hard workers; but the city still resembled Atlantis in its grandeur and architecture.

On top of the marble block, on the second floor of the palace, Emperor Alexis II rose from his throne. He descended to the floor, and walked down a gleaming silver carpet. The emperor gazed through the large window at the other end of his throne room and saw James and Remington walking toward the palace. At this, he sprinted to his throne and pressed the call button.

A royal guard answered, "Yes, Your Excellency?"

"For the hundredth time," Alexis replied, "call me Alexis. I hate these titles; they make me feel selfish."

"Yes, Alexis," came the reply.

"If you look to the northwest, you will see two people moving toward the palace. One is a young man, the other is a boy. Let them in once they identify themselves."

Far below, James and Remington made it to the northwestern elevator (to keep the symmetry, the emperor paid for an extra three to be installed in the other corners). A guard stopped them.

"State your names and your purpose," he announced.

Remington answered, "I am Wallace Remington, son of the late Danforth Remington, and this is Foxtrot-28 from Recovery Force. We come from ASOD to see the emperor."

The guard was satisfied already. He was old enough to remember the rumors about the original Recovery Force, and once Remington said "Danforth", his hand reached for the opening button.
Another guard took his place below, and the first guard joined the two on the elevator ride up.

The elevator stopped on the second floor, sixty-one metres up. The throne room was easy to find; just a short walk from either northern elevator down a hallway that led to the room.

As the guard left them, James knocked. The reply came instantaneously: "Enter!"

Remington and James walked up to the throne room. James dropped to one knee, but Remington pulled him up. He whispered, "The emperor isn't big on formality. Just treat him like a superior, like Mr. White."

Alexis scrutinized James. After a few long seconds, he finally said, "So. This is the commander of my son. Do know that when he was abducted, he too put up a fight along with his sister. I hope they live long under your guidance."

Remington replied, "Sir, what did you bring us here for?"

"Nice boy," answered the emperor. "Straight to the point, like your father. You'd make an excellent businessman."

"Thank you," he replied.

"Why did I bring you here?" he repeated Remington's question. "I brought you here because of the space program."

In 195, the Admiral's battlecruiser, the only Arcsernean vehicle that could fly in space, was obliterated, along with the legendary Admiral. Now, efforts were made to replace the battlecruiser, but they would have to find a new commanding officer.

"How far are you?"

"We're only missing one thing, really."

"What's that?"

"Getting the thing into space." Alexis smiled.

"And where do we come in?" asked James.

"I need ten, maybe fifteen of you Recovery Force agents. And normal ASOD personnel as well. We are very close, and we do not need anyone, anyone at all, sabotaging the cruiser."

"When is this? We just started training."

"Okay," resolved Alexis. "We'll postpone the final installments. Tell Seillon White that on June 1, we'll need you at 2300. Get some sleep; you'll be staying here overnight."

"Yes sir," said James and Remington in unison, and they left the palace with the waiting guard.

Chapter Two: The Arrival

May 18, 213 PGW 1157 Hours
ASOD City-Complex, Capital (White) Sector, Arcsernea

Of the nine sectors, the Capital, or White, Sector was the largest, in terms of population. It was, however, the smallest of the nine, only five hundred square kilometres.

The ASOD city complex was about fifty metres from the Great Arcsernean Canal, which formed the prime meridian and one-hundred-eighty-degree line, from North Pole to South Pole and back again.
The city-complex was designed as a shelter, hence its immense size, and it was designed to hold four million people in case of orbital bombardment. Not nearly enough for the whole population, but it was the largest they could go for now.

The woman that James met led them down a hatch and into a lit corridor. After ten minutes, the corridor led the party to a tramway station.

"This complex is so big that we decided to build a tram that goes around the perimeter and then to the center. Think of a giant, heptagonal 'G'," the woman explained to the children."

The tram took off at one hundred forty kilometres an hour, and the children arrived at the central station in four and a half minutes. From there, the woman directed them up a stairwell. On the twelfth floor of the central tower was where the children would live.

"These will be your quarters for the rest of your military career," she announced.

The room was quite spacious. Thirty-five single beds lined three walls, along with a few vending machines, four stalls for the toilets and two sinks (all enclosed within another partition), and the door. The fourth wall was a floor-to-ceiling window, which gave a wide view of the bustling complex.

James walked around and talked to the others.

"Hey," a burly dark-skinned boy called to James. "I'm Shawn. You?"

"James," he replied, holding out his hand. Shawn took it. This was the start of a friendship that would last a long time.

James walked around, and noticed the girl that would be working close to him and his team. She was talking to one of James's other new friends, Jeffrey. By looking at her, James considered her physically perfect; there was, however, a great pang of guilt and sorrow that followed every time James put her out of his mind. Being eleven, he shrugged it off.

At 2200, the woman was back. She called the children forward and aroused the ones who were asleep. All of them followed her down the stairwell.

On the first floor, two stories beneath the tram, the woman led the way down a gray corridor, considerably lit with small lights, and led down to a rectangular steel chamber, a bit like a giant classroom.

The one occupant motioned for the party to approach him. The woman left, and the door slammed shut.

The man was old, had a hunched back, used a cane to walk, and was very tiny. Still, he radiated power.

"My name is Mr. White," he introduced himself. "To be an ASOD agent, you will be put through boot camp, and the type depends on your training. Ours will last sixteen months, but it will be very-interesting."

The kids who knew what boot camp was groaned, but still were interested in what Mr. White was saying.

"Now, I know at least half of you watch the holographic programming. I know I look nothing like those stereotypical generals you see on the holo-channels. But I assure you, there is much to learn from me.

"Your first test is to get past that door you just came through. You have forty-five minutes. Begin."

Mr. White left through another door, perhaps to observe them via cameras.

Shawn just shrugged and went towards the door. When he put his hand on the handle, three thousand volts of electricity entered his body.

"Shawn!" screamed what James presumed to be his twin sister.

"So how do we get out?" asked James.

"We take what Mr. White gives us," replied the girl.

James came over to the girl. He asked, "Where are you from? You seem familiar."

The girl turned and said, "I'm from North Point. You're that guy who I met on my field trip to Naxos."

James smiled and nodded.

"And gave me detention."

His smile turned into a smirk.

"Couldn't have been that bad," he answered. "By the way, do you have a name?"

The girl smiled too.

"Charlene. But most call me Charlie."

Somehow, this name would seem convenient in the future.

"So, Charlie, what did Mr. White give us?"

"A small, lead, black ball and a pipe that leads... somewhere; that's the only hole in this entire room."

James did a few quick sums in his head. A throw at forty degrees, perhaps with-"

He threw the ball and it landed perfectly into the hole. As it rolled in, the ball dropped and hit something. The fourth light in the left row retracted, and out came a box.

"You have forty minutes remaining," said Mr. White via radio from the other room.

Shawn jabbed into the wooden box in a way that he did not get injured. He then flung the box against the wall, where it cracked into pieces. Inside, undamaged due to Shawn's precise technique, were a vial of water and a note of paper that said "1357114".

"Charlie," Shawn called from the other side of the room, "did Mr. White leave anything else?"

Two pale girls, twins by the look of them, and possibly from the deserts of Brown Sector swept the room for any other objects. Taped under Mr. White's chair was another vial, labeled "POTASSIUM".

"There we go," cheerfully replied Charlie. "Potassium is an alkali metal. It's so reactive that when it comes into contact with water, it ignites. Technically, when I pop open this seal, it could ignite due to water in the air."

"Which is why Arcsernea used it as a civilian explosive in the Great War!" someone shouted. Indeed we did, thought James.

One of the twins proceeded to pour the water onto the other door's lock. Since the objective door would not open, the party decided to get into the other room. The complex was nonflammable, but the wooden door, on the other hand...

James threw the potassium towards the door. Enough landed in the lock to burst it open. The door swung forward.

"Wrong door. You have twenty minutes to open the other one," said Mr. White.

The thirty-five, led by Charlie and James, ran through the corridor, up the staircase, around the corner, up another flight of stairs, and reached the observation room with Mr. White in it.

The room was a glass box that jutted out about eight metres above the floor of the main room.
Shawn caught their instructor in a headlock, as another trainee probed his pockets for the key. They left a confused Mr. White sprawled on the floor as the key was inserted into the door. The electricity switched off and the door unlocked.

"Good," said the wizened instructor. "I will assign you depending on your contribution in this task your biography, combined. Good night," he finished, and the thirty-five trooped out towards the corridor and the stairwell.

This part of the long corridor was riddled with maintenance hatches. A pair of arms grabbed James, unnoticed by anyone else, and pulled him in.

It was Remington.

"James. You notice how they talk about your assignments?"

James nodded.

Remington continued, "Did you know there was a Recovery Force before you?"

James shook his head.

"The First Recovery Force was founded in 184. The candidates were older than you, mature at nineteen, but the concept was the same. The finest young specimens, thirty-five of them, were conscripted into ASOD.

"Everything was all right until... 187, was it? That's when the fatigue set in, and the enemies got stronger. ASOD lost all their previous footholds... the Southern Peak, our satellite New Earth itself... and of course Red Sector.

"The thirty-five were picked off one by one. Finally, in 191, only four were left, and they were considering themselves lucky to be twenty-six years old. They were the brute force agent Alpha-04, the intelligence officer Charlie-15, the medic Delta-19, and my father, Danforth Remington, the SpecOps agent Foxtrot-28.

"Nine days before the New Year, they were sent on one mission. Foxtrot said he would retire after it; his son had just been born. The mission was to retake the new stronghold at Blackwater Beach in Red Sector.

"The mission was almost a success. Almost. Three of the team had eliminated most of the mercenaries, paying with their lives. My father could have decimated the stragglers, but the gun had no ammunition. He ran at the enemy, and got shot down. The weapon's fail-safe explosion killed the rest of the mercs. The base is gone, thankfully."

"So... what's this got to do with us?" asked James.

"Everything. They'll probably send you to mop up my f- the Recovery Force's business. They'll put you in Red Sector, and try to regain all the lost places. They're the janitors. And you're the mop. Now go. And you will not repeat this to anyone else."

James slid out of the hatch and went to the stairwell. William had seemed more sinister than he had on the shuttle, and his features had seemed to darken, James thought as he climbed up eleven floors. Then again, recounting his father's death would bring sadness to anyone.

James opened the door quietly and dropped down on the bed between Charlie and Shawn. The world quickly vanished.

In James' dream, he imagined he was Danforth. He had just gotten in a capsule of the 90's variety and had jettisoned towards Blackwater. James had been there on vacation, and recounted the area with detail.

James-Danforth proceeded to single-handedly take on all the mercenaries (in his dream, all of them resembled the one from the shuttle) while his comrades died fighting. Finally, he lay down and his weapon exploded, taking out the last of them.

It was such a good dream; James never wanted to wake up.

My second NGC project.

http://renaenae.newgrounds.com/news/po st/236374

If I Ever Ran the World
By Arcsernea (TM)

If I ever ran the world,
All the women, men, boys, and girls,
Would have few emotions tense,
All of this at my expense.

All the problems of society,
Would be reflected onto me,
And with that responsibility,
We would live completely burden-free.

If I ever ran the world,
Ultimate reform would be unfurled,
But while the little children play,
I sit and suffer every day.

No more chaos, no more crime,
A utopian society all the time,
A government which is maintained,
Because one person's life is strained.

As a citizen, life's rather well,
But for me it's endless hell,
This is why, dear boys and girls,
I will never run the world.

I hope to submit these to below. See Recforce at:

This page

This is a prequel to my story, enjoi.
http://renaenae.newgrounds.com/news/po st/236374

The Tragedy of the Original Recovery Force

December 31, 191 PGW (Post Great War)
Admiral's flagship, 5000 metres above Blackwater

"Sir! Don't do it!"

"I have to. Goodbye, Admiral."

Captain Danforth Remington, better known as Recovery Agent Foxtrot-28, was going on his last mission. His son had just been born, and he assured his wife he was going to make it all right.

The following was going to be a blow against Red Sector: All Recovery Agents that were still alive, agents Alpha-04, Charlie-15, Delta-19, and Foxtrot-28, would land on the surface of Blackwater and secure the area. Then, they would fan out and clear the insurgents. It was a one hundred percent suicide mission.

Four drop pods popped out of the Admiral's flagship, and began their voyage to northern Blackwater.

"Hey guys!" radioed Charlie-15, their intel officer. "Where do you think we go after this?"

"I dunno," drawled Foxtrot-28, "but I sure would like it if I could watch over my son as he grows into a man."

"Don't we all?" commented Alpha-04.

Fa-BAM! Fa-BAM Fa-BAM Fa-BAM! The four escape pods thudded into the ground and made metre-deep impressions in the ground. The tops popped open, and out jumped the four Recovery agents.

"Mercs on the west end!" screamed Charlie-15, and all four agents fired their plasma assault rifles. "Hell's fury", as RecForce called it, quickly eliminated the mercenary platoon.

"Ma'am! You alright?" Alpha-04 called to Delta-19.

"Yeah! Now cover the east! I got the north," she called back.

Endless waves of mercenaries approached them like zombies, but with Recovery Force's coordination techniques, in the next thirty minutes, the agents eliminated five hundred mercenaries and kept the rest at bay.

Then, something catastrophic happened.

"Delta! Delta! Are you alright-" There were only a few mercenaries left. Delta had given up. Charlie-15, an experienced medic, rushed over to help her.

Too late. A sniper disguised as a rock fired his rifle. The supersonic bullet went through Charlie-15's heart and Delta-19's occipital lobe. Extra training helps a lot.

"Nooooooo!" screamed out Alpha-04. He rampaged through the fray and by the time the sniper saw him, Alpha had placed his hands on the sniper's head and lower neck and separated them with a loud crack.

With a cry of, "Motherfucker!" Alpha-04 continued onto the west end, but the squad of mercenaries was prepared now. They drew their guns and fired at Alpha until their clips emptied.

Foxtrot-28 saw this out of the corner of his eye. The north was defeated; all that was left was west and east. Just before Alpha died, he jumped in the air and did a backflip. On his trajectory when facing west, he fired his plasma assault rifle and wiped out the squad. All that remained now was the east.

The east team was getting closer, a kilometre away. This was a lucky break for Foxtrot, because he was out of their range, but they were in his range.

He pulled the trigger.

Instead of firing, the rifle clicked.

No, thought Foxtrot-28. No. His rifle was out of ammo. He had to use other means.

The mercenary squad had taken cover. He could not ambush them. Damn Recovery Protocol! Their plasma rifles exploded upon owner's death to stop the enemy from capturing them. Protocol had cost Foxtrot his life.

Foxtrot decided to use Alpha's tactics. He ran straight at the enemy.
By the time he was eight hundred metres away, he had ten bullets in him.

By the time he was six hundred metres away, he had over twenty of them. Foxtrot-28 began to slow down.

By the time he was three hundred metres away; thirty-five bullets had found their mark. Foxtrot was limping but still coming. To see such pain, but such perseverance would have pleased the most brutal physical education coach, which Foxtrot considered his own.

Foxtrot was now fifty metres away from the enemy. His body had sixty-two bullets inside. Foxtrot fell to the ground. He used his hands to crawl as more bullets zinged over his head. He used his last vestiges of strength to grab the rifle and throw it between the mercenaries.

Protocol had killed Foxtrot, but it had also won the mission.

He then fell to the ground, with a total of sixty-nine rounds, over two clips, in his dead corpse. He died laughing, thinking about how hard the autopsy would be for the doctors back there.

Foxtrot-28 called the Admiral. The Admiral asked, "What the hell happened down there?"

"We won," cheerfully rasped Foxtrot as he pushed the recovery button, sending a beacon to the Admiral.

Foxtrot-28 had finally fallen. His entire body looked like Swiss cheese, and blood was gushing out. The doctors would be shocked to see, however, that Foxtrot had a huge grin on his face, as if-as if, he were pleased to die.