Eratz War Chronicles: Yam Suph

Long streaks of sweat dribbled down Dori's neck. The humidity was so dense, a hike in these woods were more akin to swimming. Nevertheless, he forced his way though overgrown patches of foliage only to face even denser parts. Every slash from his khukuri only made the path to freedom seem further.

Light!

He cut away the final patches and whisked away a growing amount of sweat from his brow.

“Havildar. Patrol. 500 meters.” someone buzzed over the radio. He shook off what water he could and tapped his com-channel microphone.

“Roger-” he responded as he muttered, “fuck this forest.”

He released the safety on his Kalantak 5.56 rifle and swung it back around his back. He then readied the miniaturized khukuri again. He looked at himself through the glimmer of the blade; completely unshaven, dirty from weeks in the field, and possibly infested with ticks.

Rather than risk making a sound, he silently climbed up a nearby tree as he used his blade as a rudimentary climbing hook. He broke the TAIL apart from the firing attachments and quickly hooked it onto a cut up portion of the tree. The TAIL released a muted ping to assure Dori that the hooks dug themselves in. Slinking around atop a tree branch, he could feel the blood rushing to his head. The mere thought of slowly stalking his prey forced Dori to hold down a smile. Every second only seemed to whet his appetite and those seconds only turned into minutes as he- crinkle.

Leaves broke apart as two armed men must have entered the clearing Dori just escaped from. Lowing his face mask, he licked his lips. The mask's DV flashed on as it scanned the battlefield. Two heat signatures were coming their way towards him.

Three... Two... One...

Dori leaped out of the sea of trees like an skilled diver. Leaping through the forest air, he angled himself towards the closer of the two men. Just as they turned around to the sound of the exoskeleton's muffled mechanical whir, Dori unleashed the full force of his nanograde khukuri. The blade plunged straight through the man's helmet with a soft crack and exited out the man's jaw. Bone and flesh spurted out from the dead man's now second mouth. Just as the other soldier reeled back from the carnage, Dori's TAIL bungee'd him back and allowed him to perform a midair somersault like a graceful ballerina granting him a spinning kick right into the soldier's chest. The full force of his hundred kilogram exoskeleton and his own body weight tossed the soldier into the air like a cheap rag doll.

Dori tugged on the TAIL controls and landed softly. Broken and bloody, the soldier began trying to cower away as he threw anything he could get his hands on at Dori. He shouted something along the lines of surrender, but said too little too late. Dori dropped a knee onto the soldier's continuously cracking rib cage and set the thin blade on his hyperventilating throat.

“Nothing personal,” Dori said as he swiped his blade across.

It was odd- As the blade quickly sunk in with a sickening crunch, the sheer weight of the blade combined with the thinness cut through more than Dori expected. It almost just fell in. By the time Dori realized how deep the khukuri was, he near cleanly severed the head. Rather than the explosion of life he expected to see, the blood sickeningly pooled into a pillow for the now-dead soldier's head. As Dori spent a moment just staring at the body in a stupor, the radio com buzzed.

“Havildar Orkin?” Someone inquired over the line.

“Yeah...,” Dori stuttered, “Continue forward. Scan for contact.”

Silence. The sound of the rainforest ceased entirely as not a single creature cawed or groaned. It seemed almost therapeutic. Dori gave one last wayward glance at the decapitated soldier and launched himself back up into the tree. Hacking away at the bark, Dori managed to rip out the odd mechanical hook wedged itself in earlier. He jumped off the tree and as he landed, the suit groaned. All the sweat had pooled up inside his suit and pushed the machine a little too hard. Ready to flush out his gear, he opened his suit. Steam bellowed out as water freely trickled out.

Blip

There was a tiny blip on the screen. Whatever or whoever it was, was roughly ten meters in front of him. He sealed the suit again and duck down. Within the four man squad, the closest person should be no less then fifty meters apart. Even if one of them managed to run over here, there would be no reason for them to do so... That would only mean there was one more.

Shit.

“Ek Minit!” the unknown person shouted.

Urdu. Pakistani. Dori readied his blade again. As the Pakistani soldier walked up. he was too far for Dori to silence immediately. The two of them stared at each other. The soldier's eyes shifted towards his two sickeningly mutilated companions then back to Dori. The soldier instinctively swallowed hard and flipped a 180 as he dashed back. It was from there that Dori could see the small radio clipped onto the soldier's back. A couple words and the entire operation would have resulted in a failure. A couple gunshots from either Dori or the soldier and the operation would become significantly harder. He had to take the initiative.

Blade at the ready, Dori dashed forth like an Olympic sprinter. While too frazzled to actually operate the radio, if the soldier was given any more time, Dori was certain the soldier would alert the outpost.

Faster.

Without proper time to purge his system, all the sweat and moisture weighed him down. His body began complaining as it the exoskeleton struggled to keep up. Where were the other members of his team? Was this south or north? How closer were they to the outpost?

Faster!

The Pakistani soldier lowered his hand on his radio.

Come on!

Dori speed rapidly dropped. Unsurprisingly, the exoskeleton wasn't made for sprinting and the TAIL strained the frame due to the weight of the twin nitrogen gas tanks. Dori glanced at the deconstructed TAIL module and angled himself at the soldier. Hoping for a literal shot in the dark, it flew out with a loud hiss of compressed air as a long tail of black carbon nanotube fiber strung along. The soldier glanced back and rolled forward. Miss. The hook stabbed itself into a tree roughly thirty meters ahead of the two of them. At the current rate, Dori would never make it, but if the TAIL could accelerate him further...

He shouted aloud, “E.M.C: Full TAIL.”

The screen displayed, Order Received.

The motors roared to life as the machine. Rather than running, Dori's feet seemed grazed the ground every so often as the distance between him and the soldier rapidly disappeared. He was hopping along as the TAIL reeled him in at an accelerated pace. The air swirled around him as the machine continued to force Dori to accelerate.

Without any time to aim his blade, Dori slammed straight into the soldier. The soldier's body shuddered as several vertebrae were entirely shattered from the impact.

He once again commanded, “End...” but the screen didn't display the typical “received” text. “Command: End!” he shouted as the distance between him and the tree changed from thirty meters to ten. The machine continued to reel his entire body in. Five meters. Two.

At the very last moment, Dori spun around and landed with the backside of the exoskeleton. While the exoskeleton took the brunt of the hit, a great deal of the impact was absorbed by the soldier he had collided into. The tree had a very large human-shaped impact splattered onto it as the only thing left of soldier were a few limbs. The rest of his body seemed to have evaporated.

The exoskeleton groaned as the mechanics inside were thrown around by the impact. Dori slammed a metallic fist into the ground and tried to prop himself up, but the suit responded by falling even harder.

Blip

Contact. He tried to press the emergency release button. None of the commands were responding.

Blip

The object was getting closer. Dori thrust his carbon-nanoweave plated body from the exoskeleton and landed flat on the ground. Trying to get his bearings straight, Dori crawled up, but he fell again as he violently coughed out phlegm. He struggled again- but his aching body would not budge.

Blip

Will they take him prisoner- or just shoot him. After all, he just smashed one of their comrades into a modern art masterpiece. As the blip slowly crawled forward, Dori grabbed hold of his exoskeleton and pulled himself into a ditch. His face dug into the dirt hard as he kept skidding down until he landed.

The contact should be only a few meters away by now. Dori drew his sidearm and aimed it at whatever might stand over the ditch. His body was wobbling from the impact and could barely hold the pistol up- much less keep it straight.

Blip

It was here. Whoever or whatever it was going to be standing right at the mouth of the ditch any second. Dori's hand violently shook as he tried to muster all of his strength into holding the pistol up. He considered the possibility that the contact had no idea he was in the ditch so at least Dori might be able to squeeze off the first shot.

Blip

It's definitely here. Or at least it should have been, but nothing. Nothing was there. Aside from some wispy smoke, possibly smoke from the exoskeleton, all Dori could see was the sky. The blip had slowly walked away. Was it a glitch?

“Havildar Orkin!” a familiar voice shouted.

Dori turned around onto his back and laughed as he shouted, “Here Rahul! Here!”

Rapid footsteps and a familiar face stared back at Dori over the ditch. Dori rested his head on the dirt and plopped his hands down. Exhausted, he smiled, “God, I'm glad to see you.”

“Your suit stopped responding. I thought it might have malfunctioned.”

“Yeah, toss me a stim. It's on the Exo.”

Rahul dug around the now flesh-coated exoskeleton to find a vial of a greenish liquid. He tossed it down the ditch along with a climbing rope. Dori caught the stim and pressed it hard onto his chest. A quick press of a button and a hiss of compressed air exploded out as the neon green liquid pushed itself inside. He could feel a rush of warmth coarse through his veins as he thanked the gods of chemistry for the cocktail of drugs and nanomachines.

He managed to stand up and grabbed the climbing rope. As he slumped over to the side of the ditch, Rahul offered him a cigarette as he said, “He's crushed,” Rahul commented as he held up what was left of the soldier's arm.

“Yeah. Gave him a million dollar casket though,” Dori puffed out, “But I guess we can move a little quieter.”

“Better that way.” Rahul replied, “Now you can learn what it means to fight like a real Gorkha.”

A light shower hovered over the local area as drips fell from the heavens. Though it wouldn't get rid of the humidity, it definitely made walking through an overbearingly calescent rainforest a lot easier. On their approach to the Keti Outpost, the four man squad released their TAILs from the treetops and repelled down.

It was great luck that the shower showed up. Around the outpost, there was a clear, deliberate attempt to cut away anything within a hundred meters of the walls. With enough luck, Dori thought they might be able to get to the southern most gate without any trouble.

Dori's knee unconsciously splashed down into the mud. His entire body started failing on him again as the sheer exhaustion of operating the exoskeleton was wearing on him. He sluggishly grabbed another vial of the green stim shot and injected it. That was two down from a full kit of four. Almost immediately, Dori could shake off any prior feelings of exhaustion and looked as if he just woke up.

“Havildar, team is in position,” reported Rahul.

“Alright,” Dori said as he surveyed the outpost, “Sai, jammer. Aadi, overwatch. Rahul, on me,” he barked.

Sai slammed down what looked like an old camo'ed WWII radio pack and fuddled around with the insides. After what sounded like flip of a switch, the backpack seemed to have received a breath of life. It began moving around on its own and slid through any of the backpack's holes to form a much larger version of that it was before. A warm hue of blue radiated from inside- which was probably because it was radiation. Sai grabbed an antenna that he ripped off the side of the pack. With a wave, he shot his TAIL at the highest tree and disappeared. The machine pulsed out low hums as it sung alternating harmonics of frequencies.

Aadi tossed his backpack down and dropped a line of easily accessible clips around him. He slammed down a heavy CheyTac .408 and removed a condom from the barrel. While digging in his bi-pod in, he gave Rahul and Dori a wave.

The two man team barreled down the clearing and jumped into the mouth of a ditch leading into the camp. As they held position at a living wall, Rahul quickly covered himself in greenery. As he broke pieces of the living wall to form a barrier, Dori noticed Rahul's hands were violently shaking like a late-term Parkinson's patient.

“You ready?” Dori rhetorically assured.

“Gorkhas are always ready,” Rahul jokingly saluted to an imaginary captain, “but Havildar, I'm getting bad feelings about this.”

“Same,” Dori sighed as the two of them waited. He laid on his back and took quick peeks at Rahul. While the Gorkhas were traditionally trained as one of the best, the outfit Rahul, Aadi, and Sai were a part of was made up to throw in the second sons of famous industrialists. Unfortunately, no one would have expected the Indus River incident to ever happen. Now these green, second sons are facing a battle where no amount of training could aid them. Nevertheless, they were highly skilled on paper.

Dori placed his hand on Rahul's trembling back, “We're getting through this,” he assured, “because you're helping me find a Paki.”

Rahul smirked as his hands stopped shaking, “You like Pakistani? I like your Jewish girls better.”

“Really?” Dori asked inquisitively, “How about you get me a Paki and I'll find you a Jewish girl.”

Rahul punched Dori's shoulder and laughed, “Done.”

“Jammer is up in three,” Sai reported over the now hissing com-channel, “Tu..u..., Wa-” followed by a loud hiss. Dori tapped his com-channel off.

The two of them looked at each other and nodded. They cralwed through the living wall and peeked out of the foliage. Roughly a hundred meters in front of them were a pair of HMG-armed guard towers. A rather unpleasant weapon to run headfirst against. While neither one of them could get a clean shot, Dori could see their heat signatures behind their wooden barricades. Amidst the rain, there was a light patter like rain on tarp as the heat signatures fell and faded away. Aadi was somewhere in the forests- and his training provided returns already.

The two of them rushed towards the gate as Dori continued to scan around for contact. Dori slammed into a gate post and checked his DV once more before slowly pushing a the gate door a crack. He crept in where he could get a much clearly picture of what was going on. A platoon of men were hastily trying to rebuild what seemed like fallen tents. The wind from the shower threatened to rip apart a few of the other tents. All the while, the shower had evolved into a rainstorm of monsoonic qualities.

Looking around to the right, he could spot a large tower bristling with satellites. Dori held up his hand and motioned to the tower. Rahul silently nodded as Dori handed him a pack of C4. For Dori, the path was set to a relatively larger tent nearby the radio tower. He could only assume that the tent either housed electrical equipment, armor, or if he was lucky enough, the command tent. As he inched along the shadows, patrols of soldiers would buzz around in a orderly fashion. Even without radio communication, it seemed the ground forces here were well-disciplined. For something like that to happen, it either meant the command was unusually rigid or a major player is soon to enter the area. In either case, it was more than enough of a reason to expedite this operation.

Nearing the corner post of the larger tent, Dori unsheathed his khukuri. With a silent cut, a small glow emanated from the slit and shined into Dori's deep brown eyes.

Bingo.

Inside the tent were a group of older, well-dressed men discussing something angrily in Urdu. On the largest of the tables, a large network of older radios and devices were manned by a distraught young man who attempted to appease his superiors. While his Urdu was far from fluent, Dori could tell that they chalked the communication cutoff on either the inexperienced youth or just aging Soviet-era faulty equipment.

Slowly, the khukuri cut into the tent without a sound. Each fiber was meticulously cut until a clear path was made. Matching the footsteps with the storm, Dori found his way behind a couple of crates. All that was left was to decide whether to go loud or try to dispatch each one of them with just his blade. Chances were that at least one of them knew how to use a sidearm, so whoever it was would have to be the first one.

Out of the four men standing at the table, leftmost of the men seemed to have forgotten to actually loud his oversized revolver; the second on the right's gun seems to have been polished like a novelty item rather than a weapon; the furthest right had a sword instead of an actual gun; the last one had pistol grease covering parts of the weapon and his glove.

Betting it all on that idea, Dori waited until the pistol-grease man came into striking range. As the pistol-grease man shouted at the other three something about inability, Dori vaulted the crates and easily slit through the man's throat. The rest of them leaped back as they were utterly speechless. Dori took the initiative and decided that the sword-brandishing man was the next threat.

Just as the sword-brandishing man attempted to unsheathe his weapon, Dori hopped onto the table and threw his khukuri like a dagger right into the man's forehead. The blade cleared the forehead entirely to the hilt as a splash of radiant red splattered onto the rest of the men. Dori grabbed hold of the hilt, sliced straight through the rest of the face and made contact with the novelty-gun user. With a straight slice through the ear to nose, the blade became caught in what seemed to be a set of golden teeth. The blade completely stuck, the final of the men attempted to reload his pistol only after realizing it was never loaded to begin with.

Without a weapon, Dori wrapped his large hands around the final man's throat and ripped out what life his old bones had left.

“Surrender!” a voice commanded.

The inexperienced youth seemed to have unexpectedly entered into the “fight” part of his fight-or-flight reflex. A rifle drawn on him, the inexperienced youth had nearly no training in any weapon- and much less any close combat. His recently grown stubble and twitching hands were only more proof of that.

“Surrender!” he ordered once again.

Dori turned around and stared at the youth. While the youth wouldn't be too much of a difficulty, it was the gunshot that might make his life a lot harder.

“Surrender!” the youth struggled to shout again as his hands tried to hold up the weight of weapon for the first time. The youth had very clearly never shot a weapon and much less killed someone.

Gunshots.

Somewhere from the camp, gunshots rang out and quickly evolved into a small firefight. Soft pops continued to stream out as it seemed Rahul decided to take the fight loud. The youth lost all of his attention on Dori and stared out into where the sound resonated from. Dori grabbed the barrel of the rifle and slammed his carbon-covered fist into the youth's jaw. The blow threw the frail boy straight into the very equipment he was operating just moments ago. The soft pops continued, but slowly grew louder as the firefight moved towards Dori's position.

The radio equipment seemed to start to come to life as Sai's jammer seemed to have hit its limit. It wouldn't be for another five minutes or so before the jammer could recharge for another burst. In the meantime, Dori had the communications radio secured and now the squad could actually communicate. Dori tapped on his com-channel.

“Orkin! Where are you! Danger close! I repeat, danger close!” Rahul screamed.

Danger close.

Those were the last words Dori heard for a while. The explosion chained up to an ammo dump and a generator. The secondaries ended up blowing half the outpost to hell and kingdom come. While Dori could never actually see the explosion, the heat wave melted the usually fire-resistant tents into cinders as the blast threw his body far beyond what he thought physically possible. The chain reaction swathed a path into the main barracks and burned it.

His consciousness slowly fading away, Dori saw men running out of the inferno screaming as their bodies blistered and charred from the fire. All that remained were ashes.

“Havildar!”

“Orkin!”

Murmurs of voices scratched through the darkness. Pain. Misery. A numbing sensation. Dori body clawed its way back into consciousness as Rahul and Sai hovered around his lifeless body.

Fading somewhere between painful consciousness and numbingly strained muscles, Dori shouted one word, “Stim.”

Someone ripped a stim from Dori's side-pouch and injected it into his veins. The surge of chemicals once more deadened the fatigue he felt. Still groggy, he tumbled back and forth as he attempted to operate his weapon while blind. His eyes would not open, but at least he knew his body was responding. Gunfire continued to resound to his left and right and the Cheytac resounded in the distance repeatedly fired into what seemed to be large contingent of forces. Bullets whizzed around him while men continued to shout over the multitude of lethal lead.

Finally, Dori opened his eyes. He noticed Rahul's shoulder was bleeding with a deep circle of crimson layers on top of it. Though a bullet had just nicked off Rahul's bones, blood was flowing freely out. Rahul had made no attempt to wrap it up and was dead focused on holding the line. Every so often, Rahul would give Dori a glance to see if the Havildar was finally up.

Using the crates a crutch, Dori stood up and resumed command, “Aadi, focus on stragglers. Pin them together! Sai, left flank.”

The men, reinvigorated by a restablished command, jumped up and followed his orders to the dot. Sai dashed behind a line of slightly charred, canvas tents while Aadi's sniper fire slowly pushed the remaining troops into a bundle. He adjusted his firing angle to knock out or push back any of the enemy troops who attempted to fan out. All the while, Rahul and Dori stood side-by-side while firing into the now-bunched up group of soldiers.

Without a way of expanding their angle of attack, the enemy troops decided to advance upon Rahul and Dori's position. Explosions erupted around them as metal shards added even more commotion to the already deafening amount of gunfire. The closer they got, the higher the chance a grenade could end their lives. Two more grenades plopped nearby and broke apart clean chunks of the crates they used as cover. They were getting even closer.

“We're getting over-run Havildar!” Rahul cried.

Quickly, Dori resumed commanded, “Sai, C4 their left. We need a diversion. Rahul, head right on my mark.”

“In position,” replied Sai over the constant rattling of his rifle. The bullets that pinned the left side of their flank caused the enemy to form a crescent moon formation while a few of the unengaged enemies threw down makeshift barricades for the rest of their comrades to dig in to.

Dori tossed a grenade. A loud pop and a haze of dirt flew into the air. The haze obscured the line of sight for a moment and through it, he fired his rifle into where the soldiers were last.

“Mark!”

Utilizing the short-lived smoke, Rahul also disappeared while Dori continued to fire into the enemy position. The only problem was that they weren't going down that easily. While Dori and Sai attempted to pick off a few, the only effective weapon at this point was Aadi's high-powered shots. The distance as well as their remarkable fire-discipline only made it harder to actually hit them without just blindly firing. Throughout it all, he felt suppressed like hell. Every second he spent outside of cover meant another hail of subsonic metal flying towards his head. The shots he could get in momentary gaps between their stream of gunfire proved highly ineffective. At this point, it felt like a war of attrition- who would run out of bullet faster.

“I'm getting close!” Rahul reported.

Thank God.

It was time. Dori assumed that the enemy would be too preoccupied with both him and Sai to even realize the delayed pocket pincer formation the enemy was caught in. Giving them the illusion to both run away and form a clear line would put them at some ease. This move relied on Rahul to strike right when needed and Aadi to knock out the runners.

“Blow it!” Dori ordered.

A ripple the force of eight kilometers per second erupted from where Sai had dropped the explosives. Immediately, the enemy troops focused entirely on Sai who ducked behind a broken-down APC. Without even communicating, Rahul realized the plan and double-fist grenades into the encircled troops. More explosions popped as the lethal shards of metal pierced through the formation and broke them. Flesh and sinew tore apart from the blasts while the remaining unscathed enemies decided to yellow up.

The combined force of tri-directional gunfire gave the enemy no form of cover and dropped whoever decided to stay like flies. One by one, the defenders fell as they attempted to reorient themselves as best as they could. Even the ones that had assumed they could escaped soon realized Aadi had waited for this exact moment. Without any form of cover to garner protection, Aadi could compare the situation to a firing range.

It seemed brutal. The ones that remained were dying off while the ones that ran soon realized the futility of it all. Even as they turned to face Dori's squad again, they could only witness the utter decimation of their once alive comrades. The blood that streamed out seemed to flow out at such a great quantity that the rain failed to wash it away. Rather, the ground was stained a hue of red and only spread out more and more. All the while, the dead bodies were slowly becoming bloated in the heavily aqueous environment.

Then the gunfire stopped. The Geneva war crime level of death had only the four men to be witness. There was a grotesque line of men who attempted to run only to be cut down. At the end of the line was a small grouping of more dead bodies who tried to lash out with the last breaths of their lives cut short.

Dori shook his head at the sight of it all. Even after every battlefield he's seen, he thanked (or cursed) the little humanity that he clung onto. The lack thereof could make him into a far greater soldier than he was already, but then the lack thereof would also reduce him into an uncaring squad leader. In either case, he would lose something- not from his empathy, but from his ability to fight. It was a sick way of looking at things. An unhappy medium of mentality where he wasn't quite inhuman enough to murder uncaringly, but human enough to protect his men- who were freed to be inhuman. Dori pocketed the thought for a later time.

Dori tapped his com-channel and announced, “Congratulations men. Mission accomplished.”

“It stinks,” Rahul bemoaned as he hoisted a body into an ever-enlarging pile.

“You'll live,” Dori grunted.

But he was right. The smell- that wretched stench of human waste, filth, and rot. Even after only an hour passed by, the dead bodies were beginning to swell up. Bloated flies buzzed around as they simply feasted upon the freshly fallen. While the rest of his squad was trudging along as they continued to pile bodies on the sides of the main road, he just sat there and waited. As much he'd like to just jump up and expedite the process, his legs refused to function- so he sat.

To his left, there was a now-deceased soldier or what was left of him at least. Dori watched as a fly started crawling inside the slightly opened eye-socket. Had it been one of his own men, he would have guarded the body with whatever strength he had left, but an enemy was just an enemy. What was it, he thought, that allowed him to become so detached that he could care less what befell a fellow man.

Aadi gave a vacant look at Dori before removing the newly infested body far into the pile. For all intents and purposes, the operation was a great success and now they had the task of clearing the road for the main task force to cause hell somewhere else.

Dori sat back and laid down. The aroma of burning wood and gasoline was soon accompanied by the sharp, bacon-like smell. To deny that it actually smelled like bacon would be a lie, but to think of eating would be something far worse. It reminded him of the past- of when this whole thing first began.

It had been seven months since he was embedded into the squad of these men. His higher-ups warned him of a potential conflict between India and Pakistan as if they knew something were going to happen. As he approached the men, they were cooking up a feast using the never ending river of income from their parents. Dori could tell that they wanted to prove their respect for their unknown squad leader by offering him various trinkets and food. Their dirty faces, as he could barely stand against the heat of an Indian summer, were so happy and jovial; disgusting.

He had forced the three men to undergo such a rigorous training regiment that their bodies would just break multiple times over. Everything from encasing themselves inside dead animal flesh to hiking mountains on no sleep- he figured every step would train them for the future. Every step would prepare them as much as the previous cannon fodder were prepared. Even so, after all this time, there was a hint of camaraderie as with all men combat-bound by fate. More importantly, it was these second sons of industrialists that showed a deep love for country- far exceeding faith, race, or region that Dori came to respect. They were willing to fight for their country regardless of who was running it simply because they loved their country. At times Dori wondered if he were sent to introduce these few to the ones who commanded himself- a combination that could prove great.

A face hovered over Dori and blocked out the sun. The silhouette seemed to smile.

“All done Havildar.”

Dori propped up and saw the still blood-stained road with splotches where bodies used to be, but there wasn't a soul in sight. There was still a crackle of burning fat going on around the camp, but it wouldn't be for a while until the stench would dissipate.

Still groggy from fatigue, he murmured, “Find some chow.”

He tried to get up again, but while he had some control of his lower abdomen, anything below that continued to refuse work. He propped himself up against the crates and watched the squad run off to various corners of the camp to scrounge up something decent to eat- which shouldn't be too hard considering the size. A couple minutes later, the guys started piling things into their new formed camp. A few rations at first- nothing interesting.

“Found it!” someone shouted in the distance.

Rahul was wheeling over a crate- and by the looks of it, it was heavy. He constantly strained his back while pulling the crate on what looked like a child's toy wagon- hardly useful. Using his rifle, Rahul fired open the heavy bolt locked crate to reveal the treasure trove inside.

At the sound of the crack, Aadi rushed over with his gun ready for combat. His helmet was rushed on with the straps flailing in the wind while his face was flushed with both anxiety and embarrassment. As he stood there in front of the two, a dark stain slowly grew on his combat fatigue pants. Drips trickled from his legs and splashed on the stained earth.

“Forgot to wipe?” Rahul sarcastically asked.

Already exposed, Aadi plopped along, “Aw, come on. I thought there were stragglers or something,” he groaned. He gave a long whistle when he realized the glorious content inside for all four of them to share. With the three of them there, they looked around for Sai to begin digging in before their treasure was “re-purposed” for the Indian Army. The silence was broken by a loud staccato of helicopter blades. The assault was commencing. Somewhere far in the distance, the combined NATO forces were making their move against a Pakistani-Asianic force. Today marked the first day of the real war while the three of them sat there on their asses waiting to drink.

“Sai! Where are you?” Dori shouted.

Somewhere... someone was clunking around a giant metal object of some sort. The three of them turned to the source of the sound; Sai was pushing a rather large water barrel from the distance.

“Havildar! Found water,” he proudly exclaimed.

With that settled, they all huddled together and congratulated each other with a healthy portion of aged whiskey and food. The men needed this, Dori thought. There is no way they would ever forget the carnage they had witnessed (and participated in), but he had hoped that the alcohol would function at least as a crutch or a misremembering potion. Without thinking, he grabbed a cup full of fresh water from the barrel-

Wait. Where did the barrel come from?

“Sai, where'd you get this?”

“The river,” Sai tried to reassure, “but it's okay! It's not the Indus.”

Immediately, Dori tossed aside the cup.

Sternly, Dori commanded, “Assume everything is from the Indus-”

It had been roughly five months since the supposed Indus River Incident happened. Ever since then, there was no clear source of water aside from bottled imports. It was an odd time where a previously industrialized nation suffered from drought far worse than any non-green walled Sahara country. The four of them stopped. The reason to fight, the cold memories of what happened, all of that came rushing back into at least the three- and Dori for a different reason. The entirety of the Indus River was rendered poisonous all the way from the watershed to the ocean. During the course of a few weeks, people died in the dozens, then the hundreds- then a million.

The political landscape at the time was so tense back then. Pakistan blamed India for the poisoning while India really had no backing as to how or why they didn't. Because everything seemed to lead to war, Pakistan rapidly geared up for war during a far larger ideological war between the United States and China. Armed with modernized equipment from China, there seemed to be no shortage of man, material, or supplies. Nevertheless, India tried to sue for peace as they constantly defended that they never poisoned the Indus River. It seemed the previously turbulent nature of their relations was being slowly healed. A great tiding- A mass flood of people, equivalent to that of an exodus, cross over the border to feed and quench the thirsts of the broken Pakistani. Never in history was such a love for fellow man showed than by the resolve to help the populace of Pakistan. A truly silver lining.

The 2nd incident. A number of people died. Some thought an epidemic was flowering out, but all the symptoms soon became identical to the original incident. A vast majority of India's fresh water sources were deemed undrinkable, but that order came far too late.

Death was no longer measurable without including commas. If one death is a murder, and a thousand a statistic, then this was the record. It wasn't measured in the dozens or hundreds of case- no... Hundreds of millions. Of a population of over a billion souls, a third of that disappeared. The effects of the chemical varied, but there were three important signs: it was untraceable, the affected person would seem fine, and finally would suddenly pass away within a month of drinking the contaminated water. The only difference here was that the chemical had somehow become masked. While ironically, the saving grace for the Pakistani was the month time limit, India had it far worse- they weren't able to tell until two months passed by. Naturally, the uproar and tensions shot so high, both sides geared up for what was going to be an inevitable war. With India as a part of NATO, another cold war seemed highly likely- and if they only knew why.

“Damn it.” Rahul cried.

“Havildar, have you heard anything?” Sai asked.

“No,” was Dori's cold response.

As they sat there surrounded by the charred bodies of their fallen foes, Dori wondered if there were something he could do. As he drank his liquor, he sighed. He only hoped they didn't know too much.

“This wouldn't have happened,” Rahul muttered, “this wouldn't have happened if we didn't allow those dirty Paki's in.” His words riled up the other two Indian squad members and a small flame in Dori's heart. He continued, “If we claimed our country was only for us, none of this would have ever happened- If this country was ours, our land for us. India for Indians... we would have ended those dirty Paki's before we had to ever fight.” His words grew sour, painful, and bitter. “I would have done the Indus River myself ten times over if it meant never having to deal with those Paki's.”

“Hey!” Aadi shouted as he reached out into the remnants of humanity within Rahul while attempting to retain his own, “no one deserves what happened that day. No one.”

“No one deserved it, but it happened- and now what? It'll happen again... and again... until we finally claim our country as our own! No foreigners, no enemies, only our land for our people.” Rahul reinforced.

“I agree!” Sai shouted, “India for Indians!”

Rahul shouted, “We'll make our own Golden Dawn! For the Sunahari Subaha!”

While Aadi was reluctant at first, he finally joined in Rahul's chant. These men evolved- from second sons of famous industrialists to overzealous ultra-nationalists in the course of a few minutes. Their naïve love for country grew stronger and stronger. Amidst the chants, Dori wondered if he would be able to work with these men again- or if they would disappear once they realize the truth. The helicopter blades whipping across the sky grew louder and louder.

Odd.

This was nowhere near the main battle objectives- why would they be here? It was only a couple, but something didn't seem right. Their extraction wasn't scheduled for until after the 1st battle.

Dori frantically cried, “Everyone, get down!”

An old Russian Hind helicopter lumbered through the air and circled around.

Aw fuck. It was a faint.

The MI-35 Hind spun around its tail and dropped the nose down. The old helicopter hovered there and seemed to stare right down at the squad like a hawk. Dori grabbed onto the water barrel and desperately tried to throw something in between him and the heavily armed beast. His eyes met the shielded eyes of the pilot. The lower turret lurched right onto his direction along with the twin 30mm auto-cannons. He needed to get further- those weren't bullets that he could pray would miss, each one of those was essentially a grenade and they were coming at him at 33 rounds a second. There wasn't a chance in hell that anyone could avoid those.

Plink!

A smoke grenade sailed through the air along with a tail of white phosphorus smoke trailing behind. As it landed, the hiss rapidly covered the field and the beast slowly turned into a shade. Nevertheless, the smoked-covered helicopter blew a wave of explosive fire into where the pilot thought Dori had been last. Amidst the hellstorm, Dori could feel two large hands grab hold of his shoulders and drag him away somewhere. As his body skid, he could hear Rahul's reassuring words, “You're gonna make it. It's all okay!” The sound of metal shells moving heaven and earth was so terrifying that Dori could no longer tell if his body was shuddering or if it was in a state of perpetual vibration.

While being dragged around like ragdoll, Dori grabbed the final stim from his pack and stabbed it right into his thigh. The sickly liquid sunk in with a loud hiss. The heavily regulated dosages of chemicals seeped into his body giving him that artificial energy he so desired. Instantly, Dori got on his own two feet and ran back along with Rahul. As the explosive sounds decrescendo, their escape seemed imminent. After clearing the throat-constricting smoke, it was then that he realized why Rahul sounded so concerned. Dori looked behind and saw a trail of crimson following behind him- and Rahul looked fine. If it weren't for the numbing effects of stims, then he would have realized that his entire left leg had been pierced by shrapnel multiple times. It was almost a miracle that his leg continued to function without any of the nerves being severed.

“Sai! Aadi! Cover fire!” Rahul cried out.

As the two of them continued running, Sai and Aadi began firing at the helicopter. Hoping for a lucky strike, Aadi dropped his sniper rifle and flipped on his thermal.

Ding.

The sniper rifle fire resonated louder than the cannon fire as the 10.4mm round drew holes into the continuously bellowing smoke.

Ding.

The sound of the round striking titanium armor screeched loudly and silenced the cannon rounds for now. They would be sure to aim at the source of those painful rounds. With the smoke as their cover, Dori and Rahul ran past Aadi and Sai's dug in positions at a large pile of rubble near where the radar tower had been destroyed.

Ding.

Aadi would not stop. As the smoke began clearing up, it was simply a single sniper against a 21-ton armored hammer. More fire, but the rounds seemed to either embed themselves fruitlessly into the thick armor or just graze off. All the while, Sai's rifle fire simply made a spectacle of sparks and nothing more. They needed something- something big.

Ding.

Dori looked around for something, but the entire base was far too sprawled out and time was too precious to be able to just find a weapon. More importantly, there was little chance that they would be able to survive a strafing run out in the open.

Ding.

Rahul flipped around and began accompanying Sai's rifle fire. Hopefully, the monster would be blinded by the sheer number of sparks and bullets flying its way. Though the 30mm rounds blasted and exploded around them, the wall of charred metal from before served as a very effective blast shield. With their position at least temporarily secure, Dori drooped his mask over himself to analyze the situation.

Ding.

Something to consider was that there was little to no chance that the Hind just happened to encounter them alone. Most likely it was an attachment to a nearby platoon or something bigger. Dori tried to consider the possibility of a firefight. All the his own training was for situations like these- he needed to figure out a plan to at least save the squad regardless of the objective.

Ding.

...and the loud sniper fire definitely wasn't helping. As the helicopter spun around for another strike, the distance it made between it and the squad was a telltale sign. Dori didn't even need to see the small neon-blue warning sign flashing, “IR Lock” to figure out what as happening. Resigned with firing all of its HE rounds, the pilot had seemed to decide to escalate the situation a bit. The helicopter readied its wide array of tank-busting missiles at the squad's position. It was flying straight at them.

Fweeee.

“Yes!” shouted an overly proud Aadi. Around Aadi, there were empty cartridges strewn about with empty clips tossed out.

How much ammo did he carry with him?

The sniper bullet made no lucky hits on the armor or the helicopter's pilots, but the main rotor shaft had been chipped away enough times to score a cut of the blade's abilities to turn. The pilot pulled back the throttle and jumped away from the action. Any more hits on the rotor and it would certainly be knocked out of action for good. That damn lucky hit saved all of their collective asses. The other two cheered in a mix of sheer elation and cautious fear.

Blip.

“No...” Dori mouthed.

Blip. Blip. Blip.

A stream of blips appeared on his screen. It wasn't a platoon or a squad... it was an entire
battalion.

“We're going- Now!”

Dori turned around to face his squad. They were packing up and ready to get seven hells out of there. From the looks of it, if they were able to get within range of any main com-system, then they could warn them of the Pakistani force bearing down on the west side of India- maybe there was some sort of contingency plan just in case.

“Come on Aadi!” Rahul shouted.

Aadi was trying to secure his now prized sniper rifle a few meters behind the rest of them. Dori had to mute the DV system. The insane number of blips entering the field of battle created a deafeningly loud screech.

Come on Aadi.

He wasn't willing to leave someone behind, but at the current rate, Aadi- no one could understand the situation they were in.

“The entire fucking Paki army is coming. Let's go!” Dori urged.

Aadi just stopped moving. No one was sure if it was just like a deer in headlights or just exhaustion from having to focus on the helicopter for so long.

“Aadi?” Rahul asked.

He continued to stand there staring at the three of them- then fell over. Blood oozed out from his head as his body lifelessly slumped over on the ground.

“Aadi!” Rahul gasped.

A bullet had pierced right into Aadi's ear and sloshed round through his gray matter before deciding to reside right between where his eyes would be. His body seemed to just curl up like one of those millipedes and continued to eject a mixture of life and brain matter out onto the already stained ground.

“Sniper!” Dori warned.

The three of them ran. Forget the objective, forget the equipment, they ran. At every step, there seemed to be another mortar exploding nearby or a sniper round ripping through the leaves. At one point, he was certain a jet bombed where they had been a mere minute ago. They didn't even have time to think about Aadi without getting a storm of lead tossed in their direction.

Rahul gave Dori the saddest look he had ever seen. His first loss of a squad member, an entire army blasting away anything nearby, and hundreds of kilometers from the nearest allied battle line. It was as if he had already resigned to die- but he kept running.

“Sai!” Rahul shouted in between exhausted breaths, “Sai!”

“Yes!” Sai responded.

“We are here for the Havildar! He will live.” Rahul wheezed.

Sai knew exactly what he meant by that. While Dori kept running, he saw Rahul and Sai spin a
180 and dig themselves into nearby fauna.

Heroically, Rahul declared, “We will die for the Havildar. We will die for the Sunahari Subaha!”

“Rahul, Sai! Come on. Let's go!” Dori urged, “we can still make it.”

“No-” Rahul said as he bit his lip, “You. I know you will share our vision. You are already part of the Golden Dawn.”

How.

“Forward!” Rahul roared.

How did he know?

“For India!” Sai joined.

How much did he know?

“For Our People!” Rahul charged.

The two of them disappeared into the forest full of fire and flames hotter than hell itself. Dori turned back and tried to run after the two- hoping to either make it out together or at least fight till the very end. It was then he felt a sharp pain at the back of his head. Something hit it-

A bullet?

Dori fell to the ground and landed on his back. The leaves were crushed beneath his crumpled body and it was then that he saw it. A true phantom. The very leaves in front of him seemed to phase away as a figure hovered over him equipped with a exoskeleton unlike what Dori had used. The face was so familiar- yet so distant.

The grizzled smile of a coarse, brown haired man through his even more coarse, bushy beard looked right back at him.

“But- Rahul- Sai-” Dori tried to complain whilst fighting unconsciousness, “I need to go back to them. I need to help-”

Heartless and cold, the bushy bearded man gave a deep, vibrant laugh, “Nathaniel Dori. You will die. But today is not that day. You will live to die another day!”

He simply tossed Dori's nigh unconscious body over his shoulder and zipped away.

Rahul... Sai... Aadi...

Dori opened his eyes. He felt that familiar fatigue ruin his ability to move again which could only mean he had been out for a long time. The bedding he was on shook- and then the entire room. By the loud drone of muffled jets, he could only assume he was in some sort of smaller transport jet entering turbulence. The last thing he remembered was that bearded guy knocking him out- and that both Rahul and Sai were most likely dead. That gave Dori a second to think about it- How did Rahul know?

He was certain that during the course of their months together, he had never given the telltale signs of the Golden Dawn nor would Rahul know unless he was already a part of it. The first of which was if the code command was mentioned in direct conversation. The second of which was some sort of prop with a sun rising behind a single star- which could anywhere really. Dori kept his insignia as a well hidden tattoo onto his foot and he couldn't recall any time he gave Rahul the code commands.

“Kardias Patrida,” said that loud, boisterous voice.

“Yisrael.” Dori instinctively responded, “Kardias Patrida.”

“Rossiya!” he shouted as he pounded his large, muscular chest.

Dori tried to get up, but it seemed his body was pushed so far, it just gave out and went limp halfway through. The Russian sat down and nearly crushed the metal seat below him in a loud groan.

“I am Aleksandr,” he shouted as he extended out a battle-scarred hand. Dori reluctantly shook his once captor's hand, but only did so out of respect of their affiliation. Aleksandr sat there for a few minutes in utter silence and just analyzed Dori's current state.

“Where- are my squad mates?

With a hand on each leg, Aleksandr rose up like a titan and responded, “Brother. I know not of their fate, but if they perished, they did so for their country-” A green light began blinking across the room. Aleksandr walked away behind a bulkhead door, “Call if you need me,” he said as he closed it.

Questions were still swirling around his head: How did Rahul know? Where were they going?
Where was Alekandr the whole time? What's going on?

As Dori continued to wonder, the blinking green light finally held solid. He could feel the entire body of the plane halt and just hover there- then rapidly descend down. He grit his teeth as the descent nearly pulled his entire body off the bolted down bed had he not forced his body into a nook. Faster and faster the plane fell, but the continuous drone of the engines should mean that they were all okay.

Dori's face quickly met the grated floor as the plane's engines roared back to life and landed. While he had no control over his own body, Dori definitely felt the force of landing straight into the ground. It was times like these that he wished the military used actual planes as opposed to VTOLs. A gas began hissing into the room as the cargo doors slowly opened to reveal an armed squad standing at the ready.

In the center of the group was a man with smiling eyes. He was of a fairly short stature, yet had a presence so dazzling that one couldn't but stand in awe. His swept back gray hair and cleanly shaven face told the story of a man who would not stand for any kind of disorganization. As the man walked forward, his body moved as an entire unit- no slouching, no defects, and no wasted movements. He was, for all intents and purposes, what Dori could only assume robots emulated. Pinned onto his navy blue jacket were a rainbow of ribbons and achievements that only made his presence that much more unbelievable. As he came closer to Dori, he made a single motion with his hand. A cadre of men grabbed Dori's lifeless body and eased him into a mechanized wheelchair.

“Lt. Orkin. Congratulations. The mission was a success,” his majesty declared.

“Yes Sir.” Dori hesitantly responded.

“You will report to Detox, then command. That is all,” he declared once again. There was no room for a conversation or argument- not that it seemed he would very well appreciate one. The second the man turned around, the cadre whisked Dori off into the base. Row after row of bright lights passed his weary eyes hypnotically and he began slipping off into a slumber.

He felt his wheelchair make a sudden stop and as he sluggishly looked around, he was far too familiar with the room he was in. Detox was meant for any and all field agents who had to operate exoskeletons for an large period of time. While one could normally operate one for a couple hours at full power, the punishment it dealt on the user's muscles meant the user's muscles needed to be reinforced every couple of hours. As a result, the stims were an artificial way of forcing the mind to think that the body was in perfect condition as well as actually reinforcing the muscles chemically. Usually, four stims was the max a person should ever take before jumping into Detox to prevent any permanent side-effects. As for what would happen after that, Dori chose to rather not find out. While it was good and all that he remembered the word for word explanation of how Detox worked, it never helped that it was always in a sound proof, pitch dark, and water-encased room.

“Beginning Detox,” reported one of the many staffers in the base as all the lights completely shut down.

Dori could then hear the sound of a vacuum sealing and then absolutely nothing. The sound of his own ears ringing already seemed unbearably loud. His own breathing echoed in the silence while the sound of his heart beating was enough to give him a migraine- but the worst was yet to come. A trickle of viscous liquid enveloped his toes, then rose up to his knees. A pleasant sensation of a chill tingled his senses as the liquid lapped up to his hips. As the viscous ooze flowed into his mouth, his body responded how it was conditioned to.

Breath.

As Dori reluctantly breathed in a huge gulp of that liquid, his lungs filled in. A second breath and his body got over the change in actual oxygenated air verses liquified oxygen. As he felt the top of his head finally submerged, he began floating around aimlessly. Though his mind was familiar with the scenario, his body was not. Being submerged underwater willingly counteracted centuries of evolution to do silly things like not die. As a result, his arms and legs instinctively jerked around until the last bits of air were completely taken from him. After a six second bodily contraction, there was nothing to do but just absorb the other cocktail of chemicals to counteract the previous cocktail of chemicals. It was there in that cloak of shadow that he drifted off to sleep.