Eyes opened in a flash.

Met by a world of purple goo. Breathing impossible, arms flailing for something to hold, looking around in a crazed manner.

Gravity took its hold, and he fell to the ground, coughing, retching before puking. Breathing heavily, he easily stood up as he scanned his surroundings, eyes no longer frantic. The dark armoury met his sights, just as barren as it had been the last time he woke. The comms module inside his head spoke.

/Dropping in three minutes: Target [VIP]: Target protected by convoy: Weaponry, small arms caliber likely: Heavy armament, unknown: Shields, likely: High possibility of unknown variables due to target expecting an attack, proceed with caution: Calculating recommended loadout.

His vision was quickly replaced by an image of a parade. An image he’d seen before. The image was artificially blurred except for the target, being a woman with lustrous black hair, waving to those she passed. She had a symmetrical face with a large nose. Memorising the target, he blinked the vision away.

Seeing red light illuminating the dark armoury, light shining down on the general service rifle and knife. Walking to them, he pressed their respective button and turned towards the dropship’s doors. A screen next to them flashed dimly, going from dark to bright.

Coming nearer, he pressed a finger onto the dimly flashing screen and was presented with a short wall of text. Reading it, it read.

“We’ve just received confirmation that the rebel leader is heading towards the valley of tyr, just recently recaptured. We highly suspect that this is a ploy to kill one of you Varangian’s. But seeing as the intel has been confirmed by credibly sources, I have no choice but to send you out to kill her. Unfortunately, you will be alone in this mission. The other Varangian’s are preoccupied. As this mission is a top priority, I have pulled out all the stops to give you anything that you might need. I have allocated our last still functional dropship to you, and all the weaponry you will need to finish the mission. Strike hard and fast. Do everything in your power to eliminate the rebel leader and report back to us. Fare well, hel’s chosen.”

As he finished reading, a bright red light illuminated behind him. Leading towards the old armoury were he knew he would find his old, trusty armour.

Walking to its doors, he pressed the button to open it, and blinked as the doors easily slid open. Looking inside, he was met by a pristine and shining room. Rust and grime washed away, skeletons gone and holes patched up. The room smelling of chemical cleaning instead of rot and death. Cobwebs and spiders thrust away and his three remaining armours standing side by side proudly instead of hanging on rusted hooks. And all around the old armoury, it was filled to the brim with weaponry, grenades, and miscellaneous items. Weaponry and grenade that he did not recognize, as they did not look like weapons he would normally use.

Ignoring everything, he walked towards the three armours lined up. The consoles beside each were now more green than red, only small parts were still red or yellow. Picking one at random, he pushed in the white eye of the raven within the purple emblem on the armoured chest, its two axes splitting open as the armour revealed its insides to him. Turning around and taking a step back, the armour embraced him, slowly coalescing around him as the two became one.

When the helmet closed around his eyes, a white-hot stabbing pain entered the stem of his neck, and his other mind awoke, stating.

/All systems nominal

Once more, he looked around. A pounding headache followed, but his eyes focused on the task. Glancing at each weapon, his other mind scanned each and everyone, calculating their exact purpose and likely effectiveness on the battlefield. Taking no longer than a few seconds to scan everything, finding most, disappointing. Lacking in effectiveness for what they were.

Weapons shooting too slow. Grenades not explosive enough. Shield grenades simply not working against more than a few bullets. Miscellaneous items doing little of worth to help him on his mission.

/One minute until drop.

His comms module stated, and he took a second to think. A second being a long time for his bolting headache. The second being enough time to conclude that little would help in his mission, simply grabbing a few grenades and explosives.

Determined steps led him to the dropship, taking a step inside its dark bosom, staring forward at a screen that was equally dark. Standing, waiting.

Grandfather clock, tick-tocking.

Until his comms module chimed.

/Dropping in ten, enter dropship for extraction

And the dropship burst into life. Mechanical arms slithering out as they pierced his body and filled him with their substances. Strengthening him, dulling pain and expanding his mind. Everything grew brighter, thoughts faster and time slower.

He ignored it all as he simply stared forward on the black screen, waiting.

Waited until his other mind thought for them.

/Bracing for drop

And the dropship burst forth from its womb, thrusters blasting out forces impossible to truly comprehend. G-forces piling on his frozen body, frozen still from the help of mechanical arms and his other mind forcing him motionless.

As time passed slowly, the screen in front lit up, showing him a scene of a desert planet. A globe of orange and yellow, quickly growing in size on the screen as they came closer. Growing from a globe to a vast landscape. Coming closer and closer.

Eyes glued to the screen, wide eyed as he stared. Time a non-issue.

Until the screen blurred for a moment, shifting as the cameras on the dropship looked around in a blur of movement. Not too fast for his other mind to take in, each scan taking in a million points of information to re-conceptualize and calculate. Searching for his target’s convoy, searching for the telltale sign of a wavering cloak, a shield, or orbital camouflage.

Searching, coming up empty.

Instead, the dropship continued down, down towards the convoy’s last known location. Speed beyond any normally falling object, so fast that a normal person would not survive its descent.

The screen in front shaking from the forces the dropship endured, hastily descending towards the ground. Rapidly coming closer to the moment of impact.

With an explosion of rock and sand, they struck, and immediately his other mind set forth too scan their immediate surroundings. Using all visions at their disposal, scanning at such speed that the sand thrust upwards hadn’t even started descending before his other mind had completed its scan.

And as his other mind finished, it concluded that they were safe, no target within sight.

The doors flew open, the cold air from inside of the dropship seeping out like a floodgate bursting outwards, parting the still falling sand, followed by him jumping out with a rifle in hand.

Tactile sensations informing him that the ground was slightly unstable, his other mind adjusting his landing accordingly, making the uneven sand seem perfectly flat. Heat sensors informing of increased atmospheric temperature, feeling it as if feeling it himself.

He looked outwards, out at a landscape that was barren and orange, sandy and filled with rocky outcroppings and distant, small mountains. No matter which direction he looked, the sand and rocks stretched for forever. Even when he used enhanced eye sights and zoomed in, could he not see an end.

He stared for as long as he could.

Strategies formed in his head, strategies for how he would go about finding his target, thought for him by his other mind. Always thinking, always calculating, always there. It gave him a direction to follow, highlighted atop his vision like a long red line, going out into the vast desert.

But before he ventured forth, he looked back at the dropship and thought. The thought was picked up by his other mind and the dropship started churning. Latches opened up with hisses of condensed air, and out burst two turrets, folded in on themselves, making them small to him, a normal human would not even be able to budge one. They flew up into the air and tumbled down with a deafened thump onto the sandy ground.

Picking up both the deployable turrets in each hand, he ventured forth along the red line designated for him by his other mind, scanning all around as he sprinted with ease along the uneven, rocky ground and sandy dunes.

Time flying by in miles per second, hours in minutes, scanning around in a search for a target that wasn’t a matter of if, but when he found them. Time flashing by fast and slow. Sprinting at full tilt without a sign of wavering, of stopping, looking around at high alert as his body easily traversed the barren landscape.

Eventually, a camera to the left side of his helmet spotted a waver in the distance, an unnatural waver. Immediately, he diverted and sprinted towards the shivering distance.

A sprint that led him to a high outcropping of rocks, hidden behind as his sights gave him several kilometers of view, spotting a caravan of eight lightly armoured vehicles with black tinted windows traversing at slow speeds across the uneven grounds. Soldiers marched in front, beside and behind the caravan of vehicles, smaller vehicles and larger trucks mixed amongst, carrying a wide variety of things, mostly weaponry.

His other mind immediately recognized the caravan for what it was, and knew their target was hiding within the large caravan. housing more than a few hundred men. And amongst their ranks, he spotted several at high alert, more than several. Some scanning the skies, some the ground, some armoured from head to toe, other carrying heavy armaments atop the backs of trucks.

They were prepared.

Scanning the caravan in its entirety, the two searched for their target. But found the task impossible, as the target was hidden from normal sight. His other mind quickly calculating the most likely places his target would be.

Switching between sights, he quickly concluded that the target must be in one of the eight black tinted vehicles. Most likely in the middle, as those held the most amount of people, presumably bodyguards, and security.

A target in mind, they quickly calculated ways in which to attack the caravan. Plans forming, percentages being calculated, attack patterns made, and contingency mapped out.

Many planes dashed, as they seemed too impossible. Many plans considered. Impossibly many plans calculated in a time that was far too short to be reasonable for a normal human.

But one plan stuck out to him, and he chose it, his other mind doing tasks parallel to him as they ran ahead of the caravan. Calculating, always calculating.

They ran until the caravan was out of sight, already knowing where it would go, and therefore, pass.

They eventually came to a perfect location for an ambush, two massive rocky outcroppings spread out with an exposed middle ground. A funnel that the caravan would have to pass in order to get to where they were headed.

Immediately, the two set out to work. Planting the two turrets in concealed locations, hidden and protected by the surrounding rocks. Next, he planted all the grenades and explosives, planting them in strategic locations, ready to blow those that passed.

And then, he chose a place amongst the large outcroppings, a place at the very, very top, and sat down. A place where he could easily be spotted, too far away to properly distinguish the different combatants he would face, and held little of no strategic value to him, other than the fact that it gave him a great sight over the soon coming battle. Even his other mind stated as such, giving him ample other prominent positions.

He ignored his other mind, sitting at the top as he stared out at the world.

Sat and stared.

Sat, and waited.

The wind flowing past easily, hot and dry according to his armour. The sun high in the sky, blazing down on him and making the horizon shimmer and wave from the heat.

He breathed, one breath every minute, more than he had to. Staring out and over it all.

Time passing by like the feather slowly falling from the sky.

But no matter how beautifully it fell, how gracefully it fluttered down, or how much the wind struggled to keep it afloat.

It would eventually touch the ground.

His other mind warned him of the incoming caravan, slowly closing, urging him to hide before they were spotted. He followed its call, jumping down into a more secluded area, still with a good view over the incoming caravan, but hidden.

Slowly, the caravan crawled towards the ambush point, taking in each enemy position and weaponry. Highlighting the most likely threats, dismissing those that were not. His other mind pointing out weaknesses in the caravan’s formation, remotely controlling the turrets and preparing for the assault.

Slowly crawling forward, the caravan came closer and closer to the point of no return.

He hurried up and waited, staring down with ease of breath. Eyes blinking slowly as he waited, looking down with little to no movement.

Waiting.

When the caravan had moved about two-thirds from the halfway point out of the small valley, the largest cluster of men walked above the strategically placed grenades and explosives, and his other mind detonated them.

At the exact same time as they detonated, the turrets unfolded and carried out firey death down upon the unsuspecting caravan.

Death and carnage immediately ensued, people falling down dead in the dozens before even the first scream had echoed out. One turret focusing on the first black vehicle as a grenade blasted one of its wheels, quickly demolishing it and its inhabitants before moving on to the next.

The last black truck blew up in a ball of fire and flame, destroyed by one of the explosives he’d planted.

Action were taken quickly by the armed caravan, far too quickly for the chaotic ambush. Ill-coordinated as they were, they still moved towards what cover they could find, firing up at the turrets that were behind excellent cover.

Explosions rattled the outcroppings suddenly as vehicles and men fired up at the turrets. Many missing, most missing, being highlighted as important targets to kill, turrets swiveling to find and destroy them.

Blood and guts painting the sand, people falling from lack of footholds and cover, bombarded by iron-death.

All the while the chaotic scene unfolded, he sat still, staring calmly as he searched the caravan.

Most of the black vehicles had had their occupants evacuated, moving out and being highly armoured, guns and weaponry pointing up towards the turrets, firing away quickly and moving as one unit. Elite soldiers, he could tell.

All vehicles but one was evacuated. One of them filled with five men leaning out of windows, guns at the ready whilst a singular person sat in the middle, guarded.

Target in sight, he stood and, jumped. Thrusters on his back firing off to give him the extra meters needed to get just above his target. Flying out and above the battlefield, flying true.

Falling as if a meteor from the sky. Crashing as if a missile.

Metal and gore splattered out in all directions as he crushed the vehicle beneath his weight and fall. Only one surving, being the driver, though with a glance he could tell that he had broken an arm and a leg. A non-threat.

With no time to spare, he used his armoured hand to pull open the crushed vehicle’s roof like a banana peel and peered down into the meaty carnage. Spotting what his other mind had told him was the target, now realizing was not. The one he’d killed had blond hair, not the black from his intel. And the one he killed was a man, not a woman, as his target was.

Looking up, he scanned his immediate surroundings. Finding himself the center of attention, gazes turned towards him. No guns, though. No guns, as his entrance and subsequent destruction of the vehicle had taken no longer than a few seconds.

A few more seconds, he would not have.

In milliseconds, his other mind and he, searched the caravan for his target, looking around fervently before it was too late. His other mind unable to determine the target’s location, giving him low, low odds of survival, urging him to flee.

He did not. Instead, he started moving, jumping down and dashing in a random direction. His sprint seeming to pull more gazes and pour freezing water on those that had simply stared at him. Bullets starting to fly past as he ran.

Sprinting at speeds beyond human capabilities, he lashed out at those that were in his path, shot those he knew would hit him while continuously scanning his surroundings, searching.

The first bullet impacted his armour, a piece flaking off. More would follow. He still continued his searching. All the while, his other mind pleaded for him to escape, still doing its utmost to also search, looking in vain.

Then he spotted something peculiar. At the forefront of the caravans position, where the enemies were still bombarded by the now singular turret firing down on them, he spotted an enemy hunkered down besides two others. A sight not too uncommon, as many quivered by the mere sight of him, unwilling and unable to fight back.

But in this caravan, none were hiding. All were fighting. Picked elites among the elites to fight an enemy that was beyond comprehension.

He knew this. He had been one of them, once, in his life.

Yet, the one he was looking at was one soldier amongst the elites that wasn’t fighting back. A peculiarity. And a realization came to his, and his other mind.

Target in sight, he dashed towards them. Shouts of warning being screamed, and the target peaked up above cover. Dark black hair, a woman’s head. A head that should have exploded when he fired three rounds towards it, stopped by a shield shimmering in front of the target. The two people beside the target falling limp instead.

The lone turret remaining focused its fire on the target, blasting away at the rocky outcropping the target hid behind.

More bullets impacted his armour as people realized their leader was in imminent danger. Warnings blaring as the integrity of the armour was at stake.

He ignored it all as he sprinted at inhuman speeds towards the shielded target, having stored his rifle on his back and pulled out his knife instead. His other mind preparing the anti-shield measures as they neared.

Neared until he was upon the target with a thrust and a crash, dispersing the rock the target hid behind as if nothing but paper mache, looking down at the target, he saw eyes widen in fear.

A hand thrust out, the one not holding the knife, impacting the shield and immediately going to work at dismantling it. Only needing a second before his other mind had infiltrated the shield’s inner systems, taking them down one by one.

While his other mind worked, he stared down at the target. The targets back was against the wall as they stared up at him in quivering fear. Their mouth moved, closed, and moved again. Ineffectual at speaking.

They did not have to, for they would die soon.

Then, a spark of something flashed in their vision as they clenched their teeth. A hand shot up towards a rather bulky chest. A chest that, at first glance, he’d assumed armoured. Now, knew better.

The hand pushed in a rather big button, and a wave of an electromagnetic pulse shot out at the speed of light, too fast for his other mind to prepare their defences. The wave hit him and,

Silent and dark.

His body locked up, his distant turret stopped firing and his sights faded to black. The world turned to nothing as everything mechanical within his body controlled by his other mind stopped working. Everything but his thoughts and heart. He knew his other mind would wake again. Too many backups and safety measures existed for it to die from such a simple attack.

But the surprise was enough, and he was now in the dark.

Suddenly, something pierced his chest. A bullet that had been fired at a too close range, penetrating his already chipped armour and embedding itself within him.

In response, he thrust a knife out, feeling it push into something. He swiped out, and thrust forward again, missing. Then swung his arm around at random, trying to kill whatever had shot him.

Time ticking on, until his other mind booted back up. Sounds exploded into existence and the world burst with colour. He looked around in a blur, finding his immediate surrounding safe, but a voice came from somewhere below. Speaking loudly.

“We failed, activate – the AI’s”

The voice stated with a shiver, a quiver, sounding as if on the brink of crying. Looking down, he saw his target holding a comms module in one hand, the other a bleeding mess, lacking a few fingers with a broken pistol strewn out on the ground. The target was crying, back against the stone wall, staring up at him in defiance. A burning hatred that shone like a million stars.

He stared back, hand clenching the knife firmly. A thrust would be all that was needed to kill his target.

A thrust he could not do.

A set of circumstances had been pushed into place, like pieces of dominoes falling after one another. The words “AI” had awoken his other mind into overdrive. All missions deleted, all precautions thrown aside, focusing everything on his target’s words.

Finding truth within them.

Next, it searched their database. Searching for any kind of intelligence on the planet they now stood on.

Finding images, videos, stories and reports about it. Only the reports held value, reports stating of a great battle on a great green planet, succumbing to the fire of war as two sides battled.

A war he had been a part of.

But as his other mind searched, it could not find any documents, any records about any remaining AI. Yet, the person had spoken with what they believed to be the truth.

Something his other mind told him could not be. It told him that the target probably had a lesser version of an AI, not a true AI.

It told him to ignore the target’s words and complete the mission.

But he did not.

No. Instead, he continued staring down at the target. Down as they continued staring up at him, tears falling freely as blood pooled slowly by their wounded side.

They had eyes of emerald.

He made a decision. One that his other mind immediately tried to dissuade, to argue against as it gave him all the negatives of what he was about to do.

Opening his mouth to speak, he asked.

“Where are the AI’s?”

A question that stumped his target, blinking in confusion as their hatred suddenly vanished. But it only vanished for a second before it flared again as she spat back.

“And why should I tell you?”

“I’ll kill you otherwise.”

He stated simply, holding nothing back for- why should he?

His target looked shocked at the words, fear bubbling once more, eyes that were defiant seemed too, waver. Waver, just slightly. She looked around, around at her convoy, at the fallen and killed. None dared to shoot, fearing that they’d hit her.

She made a decision.

“I-I won’t tell you-“

Immediately, his dagger shot forwards, aiming for his target’s throat. Stopped as she yelled.

“I’ll show you!”

Dagger hovering mere centimeters from her throat, he stated with no room to argue.

“Tell me.”

She gasped for breath, staring down at the daggers with wide eyes. Breathing quickly with a heart beating hard and fast. Her tongue licked the sweat dribbling down her lips, before looking up and asking with a tone that betrayed her body’s fearful reaction.

“And how will I know you won’t just kill me when I do?”

He didn’t respond to that. His other mind screaming at him to do just that. Screaming that his target had just lied to him, told him that the target would not show him the AI’s. It was a trick, a trap, something the target did to evade death for just a bit longer. Just like how any other human would do.

He still didn’t kill her. Instead, he asked.

“You aren’t lying to me, are you? You will take me to the AI’s?”

Looking taken aback by the strange question, she still answered quickly.

“Yes.”

A lie, he knew. Staring down at her with a dagger to her throat. His other mind warning about the approaching enemies at his back, the threats all around, the blatant lie.

He breathed in and out. No one could hear it. They never can.

“Okay, you will show me the location of the AI’s”

He stated simply as he pulled his target- pulled up his new guide. Up into an embrace where she could do not but stare in disbelief, body locked tight with his, no chance at escape. He held her tight, the only body part free being her bleeding hand, held above her heavily beating heart.

He ran towards the nearest unbroken vehicle and ventured inside.

Empty, he used his other mind to steal control of the vehicle and sped away from the shocked caravan. Some bullets ricocheting off, but most not shooting.

Speeding down a desert with a target he had yet to kill.