The Altered Revenge

Chapter 3

Chicago is the latest city to fall under an Eastern Alliance nuclear strike. Casualties are in the millions and are expected to rise as time goes on. Retaliatory missiles have already been launched, and we will keep you updated on the latest developments. In other news, several more individuals have come forward claiming to possess unnatural abilities.

-American news broadcast, May 5th, 2067 CE

ROYCE'S NOSE ITCHED under his armor, but he dared not remove his red helmet. The Oversergeant was watching. He didn't want to face abuse for compromising the Hunter Guard uniform.

The floor beneath Royce's feet vibrated steadily and the dull roar of the engines outside reminded the soldiers in the dropship that they were flying high and fast. Although Royce harbored a strong dislike for aerial travel of any kind, he kept silent. Hunter Guards weren't supposed to complain.

The dropship suddenly lurched to the side, causing Royce's stomach to do a backflip. No flight simulation could have prepared him for atmospheric touchdown. He fixed his eyes on the ceiling. Someone had told him never to look at the floor when he felt nauseous.

Finally, mercifully, the floor twisted once more, and the dropship came to a halt. Both the walls on either side of Royce detached from the dropship and slid back. He made his way through the door on his right, along with a dozen other armored men and women.

The large sun of Pil II shined brightly down on Royce and his squadmates, but their tinted helmet visors protected them from the glare. Royce would have preferred a built-in nose itching device instead, but at least he didn't have to squint.

Royce hurried to his formation as a bald man in an officer's uniform stepped up onto a podium.

"Hunter Guards! At ease!"

Royce folded his hands behind his back and spread his feet apart to shoulder length in the traditional Hunter Guard relaxed position. He thought back to the countless hours spent screamed at by a Teachgrunt while trying to perfect the proper stance. He was anything but relaxed.

"I am High Captain William L. Norse," said the man, his clear voice ringing over the heads of the Hunter Guards, "and I am, as of now, your Sovereign Officer. You will follow every order I give and report to no one else except your designated squad leader."

"Yes, sir!" Royce and the Hunter Guards barked in unison.

"The penalty for disobedience is immediate dishonorable discharge. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir, High Captain Norse, sir!" the assembled Hunter Guards shouted.

Norse nodded. "Do you all know why you're here?"

"To eradicate the Remnant menace from the galaxy, High Captain Norse, sir!"

"And how do you plan on doing that?"

"By locating targets and terminating them with maximum efficiency, High Captain Norse, sir!"

"Now that's what I like to hear! Report to your squad leaders for orders and move out!"

"Yes, High Captain Norse, sir!" the Hunter Guards dispersed, and Royce went to look for his Oversergeant.

He found the squat, mean-looking man standing in front of a new and nearly spotless metal barracks. The Oversergeant held his helmet at his hip and glared at each of the assembled Hunter Guards before him. His scuffed and notched crimson armor glittered faintly in the sunlight.

Royce was beginning to sweat in his own (newer) red armor. He wanted desperately to remove his helmet but resisted the urge. Once again, he reminded himself the Oversergeant would have his ass if he compromised the uniform on duty.

"All right, boys and girls," the Oversergeant said, "time for assignment. We've got reports of Remnant activity in the city, so our first job is to do an initial sweep of the area and flush some of them out. You two!" He pointed at Royce, who straightened his back, and another Hunter Guard standing slightly behind him. "You've got gutter patrol from now till midnight. Report to Street Five-Seven-Four and make a circuit of the immediate area. Move out!"

"Yes, sir!" Royce and the other soldier shouted before marching out of the Hunter Guard encampment and making their way south. Other pairs of Guards made their way out of the camp, marching to their assignments on the streets of Bycrest without delay.

Royce and the other Guard walked in silence until they were a good distance from the camp. The other Hunter Guard broke the ice. "You got a name?"

"Yeah," said Royce. "Royce Collins. You?"

"Peter Bridge," the Hunter Guard said, giving Royce a slight nod. "Nice to meet you."

"You, too," Royce extended a hand and Peter shook it.

"What brings you to the Hunter Guard business, Royce Collins?"

"Well," said Royce, "my parents are farmers back on Newton IV. You know where that is?"

"It's in the Admin Sector, right?"

"Yep." The Admin sector contained the habitable planets closest to Earth, providing most of the industry and agriculture of the explored Milky Way. "Mom and Dad needed some extra money and one less mouth to feed, so I enlisted and here I am."

"Being a Hunter Guard's risky business, friend. Doesn't matter if the pay's good or not."

But the pay was good; Royce made roughly 2000 Currency per standard month. Over half of that was scheduled to go home to his family, but Royce didn't mind. They needed the money more than he did.

"You think we'll run into trouble?" Royce asked. "I doubt there'll be Remnants popping out of the woodwork here. This is one of the most secure cities in the Sovereignty, isn't it?"

Peter shrugged. "Maybe. This was one of the last planets we took in the war. If there are Remnants still hiding anywhere, they'd probably be here."

"Haven't the Guards swept the planet before?"

"'Course, but Remnants are sneaky bastards. There are always a few that pop up after we roll through a place."

Royce nodded. He couldn't imagine anyone successfully hiding from multiple Hunter Guard sweeps but didn't press the issue. "How long have you been a Guard?"

"Huh," Peter said, absently tapping the butt of his rifle. "Must be three years, now. Time flies when you're hunting Remnants across the galaxy."

"So" Royce swallowed a sudden burst of apprehension. "How many have you found?"

"A few," Peter said, seemingly unbothered. "Three or four. I've been lucky. They didn't put up much fight before we finished them off. Except for the last one."

"What happened?" Royce asked when Peter failed to elaborate.

"A guy we had found hiding in the basement of a building somewhere on Socrates III," Peter began slowly, his voice betraying no hint of emotion. "He had two kids. One of those kids was old enough to have fully Developed, and she tried to stop us at the entrance to the basement. There were five of us, though, half a squad. We took her out and moved down, where the guy was waiting with his other daughter. He was vicious, man. He had fire going all the way up to his shoulders and he started slinging it."

"s**t," Royce muttered.

Peter snorted. "Yeah, that's what I said. He fried the guy next to me and we all took cover, right? He was shooting fire out in the open, so we all started taking shots at him with our rifles. We must've put fifty bullets in him before he went down. We secured his younger kid for Containment."

Royce stayed silent for a moment, unsure of how to continue. "Did you know the guy who got fried?"

"A little, but it doesn't matter. We all knew what we signed up for and I'm not losing any sleep over it."

"Probably for the best."

They stopped walking at a street corner lined with graffiti-stained brick buildings.

"This is Street Five-Seven-Four?" Royce asked.

"Must be. Let's head straight down and start the circuit."

"One second."

Royce removed his helmet and vigorously scratched his nose.

"The hell are you doing?" Peter asked.

"I've been waiting to do that all day," Royce said, putting his helmet back on. "And from what you said, life is probably going to be short. I'm not going down with an itchy nose."

Peter gave a small laugh. "Fair enough. C'mon. The sooner we get started the sooner it'll be over."

"Lead the way," Royce said.

The sunlight barely touched the streets before them.