The substance dripping into my eyes cannot properly be called blood, but it's the closest thing I have. The slow trickle down my forehead and into my eyelashes produces a sensation on my artificial skin which is, similarly, the closest thing I have to an itch. A tiny source of distraction.
The buzzing sound which permeates everything in this place seems to be impossible to filter out, even for my most complex sonic algorithms. Maybe it's on a psionic level, or even a product of some arcane effect. It is more annoying than it should be, and I know it's purpose is to create unease in life forms of my general type. But it is an insignificant trifle, no problem at all for someone trained as I have. It vaguely reminds me of the noise a rabbit makes when something bigger pounces on it, diminished a thousand times, to the barest threshold of human hearing. A trifle.
The slow throb of pain from innumerable cuts, welts, bruises, burns, scrapes. Some of them itch as well, as my body attempts to heal these hurts. They seem determined to remain. My automatic anesthetics seem to be entirely ineffective, and the regenerative molecular super complexes should have made more significant progress by now. A meat person would be in shock from the pain, unless they had training. Less than a trifle to me. Barely enough to register.
The very environment attempts to distract me. Heat sinks work overtime in a futile attempt to displace internally generated thermal energy to an atmosphere which rejects it, refusing to evaporate liquids from my skin, radiating heat back at me instead. The air is poisonous, filled with some noxious compound which fills my nasal passages with a stench I can only describe as infernal. The aura of the place seems to radiate pain, anger, depression, the futility of righteousness. I can't help thinking that every man does have his price, that nothing is sacred, that only a hypocrite feels himself capable of performing "good" deeds. I ignore all of these things effortlessly.
And yet, I am distracted.
I don't know if this really is hell, but if it isn't, someone outdid themselves manufacturing a facsimile. Either way I am impressed.
The others are gone. I don't know where. We got separated, and despite a significant amount of technology which is currently being devoted to mapping and sensory activities, I feel I may very well be lost. We shouldn't have split up, but this was suppposed to be a quick mission. It was supposed to be nothing at all, in and out, and on our way to the real destination. Instead, I find myself wondering whether I'll see anything familiar again, or if the rest of my life will be spent wandering in these ugly tunnels, searching in vain for something which was never here, until they finally overwhelm me.
Which, I suddnely realize, could be in about 15 seconds, because that's how far away that sound was. My sonics are fuzzy. Sounds don't bounce in here the way they should, even on such an uneven surface. Must be an unusual texture. But this time, I'm sure.
My bioelectrics are already dead. Nothing fancy now, just a good fight, the old-fashioned way. Fist and foot and maybe a rock or too, against tooth and claw.
My feet shift into a fighting stance, with most of my weight in the back, legs bent, ready to lunge forward. It's best to attack first, with these. Never let up for a moment. To go on the defensive means losing the fight, when you're outnumbered like this.
It's getting hard to see. There just isn't any light in here, even outside the human visible spectrum. These creatures have enough body heat to see with my thermographics, but it gets pretty confusing when there's a hundred of them piled up on top of me, like the last time. Even my onboard resolution algorithms have trouble separating the images. Of course, the flap of "skin" hanging down over my right eye, bleeding cyborg blood all over the place, doesn't help. My power levels are so low, I can't even shift it back out of the way, turn it into extra neck armor or something useful. Instead, it's a handicap.
Come on, concentrate...
There, to the right. About two hundred, two fifty yards, around this corner...
By the time I get there, whoever it was is gone, I don't know where. The scattered piles of burnt, frozen, electrocuted, smashed, and exploded bodies suggest it was Harbinger. I heard him breathing right here, forty-nine seconds ago...but he must have heard me coming. Or sensed me coming, more likely. To his senses, I've always seemed inhuman, but I didn't expect him to mistake me for one of these...things.
I pick a direction and start running.
"Come on, ya sons a'bitches!"
The one within my striking radius (currently 7.7349 meters) hisses as he's suddenly grabbed and flung into the nearest cluster. His claws have time to rake my arm, rending my flesh into ribbons separated by dark blood. But he and the others go down with a crunch of breaking limbs.
"Titan-crush!"
Even though my Mangatech is no longer on-line, I shout out my favorite name for the full-power dash attack Master Wang taught me years ago. My raised forearm and elbow smash into a group of three, scattering the back two a healthy distance which crushing the bones and internal organs of the primary target. Before he collapses, he takes advantage of my proximity to rip a chunk out of my shoulder with teeth like thick needles.
Then I'm free from the ring of enemies. Free for a few seconds. It's enough time to begin sprinting at full speed, better than any horse could manage. I know they're going to catch me, but I need to get a better position.
For some reason, I find myself running down a tunnel slope rather than up. Wasn't I looking for the high ground? But this seems right...
I recognize a psychic pull, leading me down the tunnel. As long as I don't think about it too hard, it should lead me easily...to what? Harbinger or Aranae? Maybe some foul native being with the power to cloud minds as subtly as a sectoid?
Either way, it's time for a confrontation or an escape. We can't hope to do anything to salvage this op except to leave.
As I'm pulled closer to the...whatever, dodging claw swipes and tackles, throwing those foolish enough to charge me one at a time into walls with deadly force, the feeling becomes...familiar. I've felt this impression before. But not recently. It can't be Aranae or Harbinger, it feels like...it smells like glue, and resin...rough tape in my hand...
I come around a steeply sloping, narrow tunnel which is about to become a dead end if it gets any smaller, and there he is, stuck on a ledge in front of me. Waiting.
This is the part where I'm supposed to exclaim in disbelief about how this isn't possible, shout out the name, etc. But I don't have time for that, because I just ran into a one way tunnel, and those behind me are within reach. So all that happens as I reach forward is a widening of my eyes.
When I turn around, they shrink back, some stumbling over each other in confusion at the sudden change. It's either the glow in my eyes, the predatory smile on my face, or the shine on the baseball bat I'm now holding in both hands.
Okay, okay, it's probably the bat.
*CRACK!*
Well, I've never liked having my will denied. I don't care if this is hell. Nobody tells me what to do, where to stay. I'll tear the whole fucking place down.
I allow my rage to simmer for a while. It brings me out of my funk, allows me to concentrate. A little reorganization of priority queues, some optimization of resources, some good old-fashioned thought excercises...I begin to heal a few things. Stuff gets into line. I'm feeling good.
With Eddie back in my hands, I'm feeling real good. He was supposed to be lost forever, as good as dumped into a black hole, only worse. Just goes to show, we don't know as much as we think. Still plenty of stuff going on in the big picture that none of us get. Except maybe Evey.
In my new calm, my subconcious reaches out in a way I've learned not to interfere with. Like the opposite of a hunch that you trust without knowing why. I feel something like a great colored cord, twisting, sliding, in my mind.
Ten steps this way. Climb up that tunnel. Down this corridor...
There they are. All accounted for, allthough they're also all beat to hell. Even Sean looks pretty bad, though I don't know how they laid a hand on him down here in this heat. Must have been distracted. And yes, the claws of these...demons...are even enough to cut Joyce, apparently. Definitely arcane.
"Hey. I was wondering how we were going to find you."
Evey must be glad to see me. I haven't heard him use a sentence that long in years.
"Just one of those things." That's a good enough explanation for Evey.
He nods. "Let's go." Back to the old Evey. No time for wasted words, like "this was a trap" or "next we'll do this". One thing at a time. He's changed a lot since the old days.
No one says anything like "battle formation 21-J" or "you take point" or whatever. We don't even need hand signals anymore, or transmissions from the psi-guys. We just move out. No wasted effort. No wasted time. We're ATHENA again, if only for a little while.
And then we're there. The place this whole mess started from. A small bottleneck cave, the equipment at the far end. The single entrance is just made for a "last stand". Good thing. The weird box that guy on Certerus sold us isn't in one piece anymore. They made sure we aren't leaving this place, wherever or whatever it is.
I move forward to see how bad it is, but Evey waves me back to the cave's entrance. Micah and Elegance move to join Evey instead. I keep forgetting I'm not the engineer anymore. But yeah, anything I know Evey knows better, and Micah knows more technology than any human from Earth. And Elegance...we still don't know if Elegance is male or female, or if those terms even apply to whatever race "she" is from, but a name like that is going to get you branded female in our group pretty quickly. She's never complained.
So I take the front, with the other warriors. It's my place now. I was never really happy doing anything else.
The howling, hissing sounds begin increasing in volume, and I prepare myself. Our group stretches almost in unison, loosening weapons, checking ammunition and energy levels, concentrating on Ki or Psi or whatever. But we are still efficient. In brief moments we are ready.
The charge, now...
It's going badly. The respite we were given on the way here was far too short. Too quickly, we are exhausted again, gasping for air in the superheated, noxious atmosphere. Glitterboy has already pulled two guys back to the cave, to "safety". Their wounds may be treatable. Part of me respects them for their attempt, but in general the rage has me, and I find their weakness contemptible. Eddie spins faster every minute, beating a rythym of primal anger on the skulls of my enemies. I don't even remember the names of my comrades anymore. This is all that matters.
It's important to like what you do.
I don't know how long it's been. Too long. Glitterboy's the only one still out here fighting with me. Everyone else is inside, passed out and bleeding to death, or trying to patch up too many wounds.
Good. Fine with me. They were getting in my way. Now I really have room to work. Glitterboy is too quick and experienced to be a problem for me.
A complex pattern envelops a small group of the demon-beings, a twisting yellow blur which seems almost unrelated to my wrists. Every motion of Eddie has a hidden purpose, strikes turning to blocks turning to feints. The movement suddenly culminates in a wide backswing, just as a brief pocket opens up in front of me. Just as I knew it would, though no planning went into this.
The sound from my throat cannot be represented in human alphabetic characters. It sounds like triumph, glee, ecstatic release. Eddie comes around in an irresistable arc, with the inertia of a small moon. An entire group of the creatures recieve this force and are flung back with massive internal damage.
No time to gloat. Where's the next victim? Who shall be next to feed my anger?
I hear a whisper in my ear. Glitterboy knows just how well I can hear.
"They've almost got it going. Evey says maybe another five minutes."
Hah! Five minutes! I could do this all day. I want to do this all day. Every day.
Then, suddenly, I wonder what it is that nags at my mind. Why am I not fighting? I blink once, twice. The world is in slow motion, the way Glitterboy sees everything.
There's no one around me. Dozens of bodies lie scattered, leaking black blood. Bits and pieces of teeth, claws, skin. But nothing standing. Nothing moving.
While part of me is filled with sudden hope, another part howls in frustration. I wasn't nearly done with them. They were to learn a lesson, to learn to fear me. I had hours and hours of pain left to deal to them.
One, long breath. Then another.
Then I hear them. And I remember how, just before a tidal wave, the ocean gets sucked out, far far lower than the lowest tide...
It's time, then. We're not going to leave here, after all. And I'm going to get the fight I want.
Well, I'm not going to sit here. I charge forward. Something annoying flickers at the edge of my hearing, but I ignore it. My purpose is complete. I've always known how I was going to die.
My last thoughts ought to be something about my children, or my friends, or my dead wives. They won't be. I'm not that kind of a person, no matter how hard I tried. I know what my last thoughts will be.
I charge into the great cavern ahead, and with a mighty leap, carry myself over the forerunners, into the great mass. My visualization devices count to some number in the thousands, before failing. Maybe the ten thousands. Numbers are an abstract notion, nothing to do with me now.
I scream, a hawk falling on a frightened rabbit.
My last thought, as I knew it would be. There aren't going to be enough of them.