It was peaceful that day. So she had been told. It always was on this planet, wasn't it? Rarely was there a moment of strife or conflict to be seen on those frigid streets she had earned her first bars patrolling. The people were content. The governing forces installed by Lord Halketh seemed to instill a sense of peaceful order and kept those migrant newcomers to the newly tamed planet supported and heard enough the word rebellion had been lost in the minds of those who dwelled here. No one wished for a change to their newfound way of life. No one wished for a sense of instability or turmoil. For too long, those refugees who now called this frozen rock home had been handed off from one place to the next, ever tireless in the pursuit of safety and a new place to call home.
In some ways, perhaps more than most, Major Noel Strasza related to that sentiment.
She was just a dumb kid, it felt like, when she had landed on this newly industrialized world. Naivety was her companion as she wandered the streets, seeking adventure far beyond anything she had experienced in her years up to that point. Dar'manda then without much to her name, the icy world was rife with opportunities nearly around every corner, it felt like. She could situate herself in the production or processing lines of Nova Vox. Of course, as much as she desired something different, old habits were hard to break, especially once the trickling stream of credits she had brought with her had started to dry.
It was fitting then, she found herself sitting in the recruiter's office, enlisting in the planetary corps.
Little did she actually know at the time, signing her name on that line is what would shape the rest of her future.
How many days had it been? She didn't know. She couldn't keep track of the hours down here, suspended from the anchoring arms of the machinery centered in the lab. It was cold. Sterile. Nothing came to mind after the initial shock wore off and she was left in isolation to be consoled only by the faint whirr of mechanization with every shift of her eyes and the distant hum of some mock, digitized pulse resonating where her ribcage used to be. The overhead lights buzzed at a frequency she had never noticed before- or maybe she had. She couldn't remember. Had she ever been in this place before? How was she to know? It was only after Halketh had vanished from her line of sight and departed the space that she had truly felt the sinking weight of dread plummet into her stomach. She had been wary of him before, but after those vile lines he muttered in some weak attempt at comfort, he made the metaphorical hair on the back of her neck rise.
Had he spoken the truth to her? That she was only the first of many to come? That there would be others after her, kin of a new sort if she were to be a success; she was an experiment? Why? How? A million questions surged through the cyborg's mind as she hung in silence, barely able to find the strength to pick her head up and glance around the space. A cornered animal. She was a wounded, cornered animal and there was nowhere for her to hide. Desperately, she focused on her fingers and hands, urging them to curl into fists in defiance of the broader picture. She wanted to fight this nightmare- to wake herself up back in her bed. Yet, try as she might, the limbs were inactive, barely connected to her torso by the amalgamation of cables threaded from the myomer muscle to the internal systems. Nothing allowed her any freedom of movement beyond that of her head was socketed and powered on. Even if she hadn't been strapped into this terrible, spidery machine, she wouldn't have been able to move.
A prisoner in a shell she was to learn was her new body.
Roughly, she screwed her eyes shut, forcing out the glower of the lights exposing her glinting metals. She didn't want to see it anymore. The rapid breaths she struggled to take then sounded a rising alert in her system, startling her to jolt, and she would have, given any other state. Red lenses flew open as she peered around the room once more, searching for the source of that shrill beep. And it was then, the framing of her HUD shifted, aligning itself in digital space projected over the conscious plane of her view spelled it out for her. She was suffering a panic attack. She barely even registered the gasping, gulping mouthfuls of air she had been swallowing down. Noel couldn't be calm in a time like this. She couldn't soothe herself. This wasn't a dream. This was very, very real.
And it was worse than any nightmare she had ever been forced to watch unfold.
Something in her chest hissed, releasing streams of steam from vents aligned along her ribs she couldn't see where she was. An eerie, forced calm washed through her, flushed rampantly through her veins as some unknown valve turned. The gasping leveled out. The alert fizzled from sight. Her vision spiraled in on itself, pin-holing as a weight closed down on her, pinning her thoughts to a sluggish standstill.
Sl-
She didn't want to, she needed answers.
-ee-
She couldn't. Not here. Not now.
-p.
K I N G S L A Y E R
W A R M A C H I N E
2ND DOOM DIVISION | THE WATCHMEN | 8/8
T A S K F O R C E I M P E R A T O R
ENGAGEMENT | OPEN - COME ONE, COME ALL!
"If God wanted you to live, he would not have made me!"
They had always been something of a wildcard squadron, especially for as small as they were, but that rarely affected the outcomes of their operations. A ruthless cleaver brought down without an utterance of warning from any who may have witnessed their coming. That was their gimmick. Some of the New Imperial forces were known for grindhouse tactics. Others were phantoms who appeared and vanished without a trace, leaving silenced victims in their wake. The Watchmen operated around one rather basic element by comparison: surprise.
Half the time, it was a marvel their allies even knew where they were. That was entirely the fault of the squadron's less-than-sociable commander, of course, that notoriously unforgiving cyborg with a ravenous bloodthirst that seemed endless when it came down to the wire. The plaguedog let off the leash. Major wasn't one for chatter in the loading bays before deployment. She wasn't the sort to share in her plans or the mission she had been tasked to carry out. Ziost had been no different.
Their uneventful landing and unloading of their bikes had been as quiet as they tended to be when the mission lay directly ahead. The Blue Hearts were here and after Generis, there was a soft spot on the warmachine's plated exterior for that company- and not just the one left behind by the explosive shot she had tanked to the chest, either. So, that's where she aimed her focus. Anti-armor weapons in tow, The Watchmen rushed from the far edge of the central engagement on their way to it all, propelled on the near-silent drone of swoop engines.
Those walkers were looking mighty tasty.
<"Any of y'all think it's weird that we're helping the GA?">, of course, it was their resident slicer who broke the sacred silence first.
<"I was unaware you were capable of thought at all, Tyco."> Penny shot back without missing an opportunity to jab at the former criminal.
<"Listen. I can't be the only one that remembers what happened at Yin-"> the specialist promptly shut his trap as Strasza's head turned unnaturally about on her neck. He could feel the glower through her visor.
It was only once she turned her focus forward once more that the cyborg addressed those zipping in formation with her: <"Forgiveness goes a long way in the galaxy. Be wise to remember that.">
<"That's awfully rich comin' from you Major.">
<"I got my reasons. Don't worry about 'em."> Strasza stated back evenly, voice warped through the vocoder implanted in her throat, <"Now everyone be quiet while I make a call or I'm pullin' this formation over.">
She slid a hand across her lap, swiping her fingers across the pad implanted into her gauntlet to switch her comm frequencies.
<"This is Scout Leader,
Watchmen are en-route to cripple their armor from the northeast.
Don't splatter us on our way there, over.">
Mighty tasty indeed.
ALLIES | GA | NIO |
DECEASED Erskine Barran
Willan Tal
Maynard Treicolt
Captain Raith
Cotan Sar'andor
Zirell Marxon
FOES | TSE | S-IMPS AND OTHER UNSAVORY FOLKS | Valen