Talons, weighed down by immeasurable burden, slowly and rhythmically stomped through the light scorched rut that Phazer’s rage and sadness had created. The abused concrete crumbling to dust under the weight of each overstressed metallic step. The plaza-like path that stretched before the Hill was stuck in darkness, the powerlines drained and fried by siphon, and few light fixtures had survived the ensuing onslaught. The rut finally tapered off as concrete turned to asphalt and Seth's march stretched into the empty streets of the still sleeping city. Streetlights flickered as he entered their pools, as he left behind the darkness created in his wake. The eyes of the suit were still dark, burned out for a second time, but were now in tandem with the scorched edges of that twice broken maw, and the charred edges of the suit proper. His steps were heavy. Not stomped in menace or diligence, but like his will to continue each step was waning each time his foot fell. His arms swayed and clanked at his sides under similar weight. His head hunched slightly, but still hung in a similar fashion. All signs pointed to a common conclusion.

He was tired. Tired from fighting back to back bouts with excessive stakes. Tired of the rage that filled him far too many times. Tired of endlessly reaching for… He couldn’t even remember what anymore. The only thing he was now, the only thing that was left of him... was tired. And the only thing he wanted to do was go home. To go to bed. To leave this accursed day in the past and move on. The faint remainder of him held this feeling like a candle against the wind, not knowing where it came from or who lit it. But it was all he knew now, and all he cared about. Everything else was consumed by the abyss still clinging tight to his edges, holding tight to his psyche. Only kept at bay by the feelings shining in that dim fleeting flame. He trudged through the empty sleeping streets of Kadia with that single purpose left, and a clear vision of his ultimate goal. To just finally rest.

The night dragged on, empty streets devoid of any cars or people. It was too late for the night crowds, but still too early for the morning shift. A faint light grew in the east, cloudy skies reflected and advanced the dawn beyond its reach. A fog had rolled in and swallowed much of the city from the northeast, from the wide Terrace River that ended alongside it. The mist only added to the spread of the coming dawn, but blotted out any definition that could be had of it. The streets were still empty as the time for early commuters came, the quiet din of their starting days even more seemed distant, separated. The fog kept Seth blind to much of his surroundings, the buildings rendered nothing but shadows. Even as the sun slowly burned away that fog. Details were afforded only to things in his general vicinity. A few parked and left cars on the side of the road. A flashing street light behind the cloud ahead. Emergency lights warning in tandem on the shadow filled side streets. .

The fog grew thinner the farther he got, and the city’s defenses becoming clearer in kind. The side streets at every intersection were closed off by walling bollards, the only path open to him was the one ahead. But he had but one path to walk anyway. Through what senses left standing he felt eyes on his back, heard echoing footfalls on all sides. Scouts were shadowing him, keeping pace and keeping hidden as best they could. A pretty clear sense that they would ambush and corral him if he ever deviated. But their distance was considerable, and Seth had little care for turning around or for fighting any more. The fog’s coverage diminished to a cumulative haze as he drew closer and closer to home, to his self-affirmed salvation.

But from that loose haze appeared more solid shadows, blocky shapes that took up the whole of the wide road that he'd walked. A shout echoing out from the shapes gave a small indicator of what awaited him. The sound of formation, orders, and the intermittent hum of meticulous machine placement. As he trundled on the the speculation was affirmed. An armored road block set up by the military. Tanks taking up the bulk of the space, angled matte green hulls and compact gun barrels for city incursions. Armored personnel carriers took up the flanks, their troops spread out before them and their limited firepower added to the mix. A brace of guns were mounted to the tops of the armor, heavy machine guns meant to fend off infantry attacks in such confined spaces. Finally a lowered wall of bollards kept a mechanized platoon of soldiers separated from their intended target. A mix of rifles and shoulder launched munitions were all they were afforded. All in all… still little for Seth to care about, least of all in the state he is in.

As he cleared the distance built fog, a gruff voice echoed from the tensing defensive line, guns were shifted and turrets swiveled to all point at him. Orders to keep calm and hold fire, but be ready. A startup of a megaphone and that gruff voice became directed as it echoed through the mist covered city. “HALT!!!” The commander of the roadblock looked armored to the teeth, padded helmet and vest with matching shoulder and arm guards. No doubt continued with leg armor below the bollard. His face was stern, a voice to match, but it beguiled a more deep seated concern, a fear that shook his words. He had experienced something not too dissimilar to this before. Even if it was just a single one this time, even if it wasn’t really one of them, it was clear he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was facing another laceroid.

The emotions understood felt hollow, second hand, directed just so he could understand through the burden placed upon him. But Seth never stopping his slow weighted advance. “I SAID HALT DAMNIT!!! IF YOU TAKE ONE MORE-” The unceasing metallic metronome cut the commander off without a beat out of place. The he looked to take this as best he could, passing it off as childishness. He dropped his megaphone to curse to himself. “Son of a bitch! PERKINS!! FIRE A WARNING SHOT!!” A soldier on his right loudly affirmed and leveled his rifle in Seth’s direction. The distance was far, but it was enough to ensure he knew where to shoot. The rifle cracked and a round skipped off the asphalt to his left. The crack echoed with its whizzing underscore, but was followed by the continued beat of monotonous steps. The commander’s brow furrowed deeper than its already agitated position, hunching over the bollard defensive line. He understood this wasn’t going to end simply. He raised a hand, a clear indicator that all the soldiers on the line understood. He took a deep closed breath as if he still struggled with dooming his opponent, but he had to go ahead with what must be done. “ALL RIFLES!!! OPEN FIRE!!!”

The quiet of the city was rendered a distant afterthought as a torrent of cracks started with no hesitation. Automatic rifles poured fire upon him in a cacophonous barrage, only accented by the baffled sounds of rounds ricocheting. The storm of lead chewed through the asphalt, misses and general deviation. But the only reward they got from hitting their mark was puffs and sparks. Seth continued his advance without regard, small caliber rounds like these were never a threat, and his focus on that flame never inched in the slightest. The commander took the ineffectuality of the barrage as only further consternation. He held a hand to his helmeted ear, a microphone set in for relaying orders under excessive noise pollution. “50s!!! OPEN UP!!!” The top mounts on the tanks and APCs all took this order, HMGs playing cello in this lead orchestra. The larger rounds added more sparks and fire to the scene, but still couldn’t succeed in slowing his already depressed pace. And yet the beating upon his suit still had an effect, the tinge of irritability rising with the shell caliber. The commander was thoroughly perturbed now, history was repeating to him. And it meant hell was reincarnated. “APCs!!! OPEN FIRE!!! VASQUEZ, THOMAS!!! HIT HIM WITH THE AT!!!” The armored personnel carriers started firing, thirty millimeter chain guns with armor piercing rounds so they don’t light the city on fire. Solid shots of bass pounding the suit in separate successions, metal spalling like firework stars. But it held, rendered a fierce wind that whipped against that sheltered flame, flickered its light, added pain to the burdening weight.

A round veered from center mass and hit an arm, adding weight to recoil before the next step could be finished. The cadence broke like it was a hypnotizing drone, the flame's dance lost to its only recipient. The right eye opened, that resistant right that survived its take over and subsuming. A fragment of what Seth was, a surviving remainder bereft of memory that now found itself awake and under fire. Just in time for shoulder mounted antitank rockets to come into play. Two booms in timed sequence, matched as best they could against the barrage so their munitions don’t get intercepted by friendly fire. Stubby and finned, the rockets jetted toward him bearing specialized explosives meant to defeat armor not too dissimilar to his. A fact that forced that fragment awake from under all the burdening weight. They were at least slow by contemporary comparison, one from either side but both pointed at his center of mass. Should be an easy dodge. But that awakened mind found itself unable to move, his body too depressed by fatigue and the still clinging hold of the abyss. Despite this he had a bit of power at his disposal, and those rockets had detonation fuses. He focused, sent power to small timer circuits not expecting a wakeup call so soon. The rockets exploded into devastating rings of smoke and shrapnel. The fragment felt the heat and plink of the detonated ordinance. Smoke shadowing him from the sight of the firing line as the cacophony finally quieted.

“CEASE FIRE!!! CEASE FIRE!!!” The commander wanted to be sure of Seth’s state before ordering further attacks, but it was clear to him that they were useless. The echoing booms died out with the smoke, replaced by that still ever continuous and monotonous walk. His heart visibly sank as the smoke cleared, but fear did not take hold of him. The awake part of Seth’s psyche could make out his dismay, no second hand direction needed. Yet his body and the better part of his mind were still set on one thing and one thing only. Getting home, and that thought crept into the awakened part like an intrusive yawn. It dragged at it like it wanted to be made whole, like it shouldn’t be awake. But the given circumstances demanded its consciousness. The commander steeled his nerve and raised his hand to his ear again, the eyes of transitory fear. Fear burning to anger. Anger at having to relive the hell he was pulled out of, anger that another hell was about to be realized. Anger at truly dooming his men if all else fails. “TANKS!!! FIRE AT WILL!!!”

The soldiers ducked from their firing positions, gunners closed their hatches and prepared, but the commander stayed up. He had to be sure this worked. The central tank callously whirred to life, barrel angling to fully acquire the shot. The commander braced hard on the bollard, but concussive force is a hell of an expectation shifter. The boom kicked the air hard around the defensive line, he was battered down and lost his locked gaze, fearing the worst was yet to come. The fragment could still hold sway over its perception, still gauge a response. The shell left the barrel in a solid piece, but split apart quickly. A sabot discarded from a finned metal penetrator. A solid chuck of dumb metal going way too fast. There was little he could do, but it was just metal anyway. And he’d taken worse hits befo- *BWEOUHHHH*

It struck home on the left chest plate and spalled like all the other dumb metal munitions. But fucking hell it hit hard! The rod caved and compacted, cracked in twain, and scattered into a flash of friction heated sparks that splayed every which way. The suit bunched inward, the threads held, but the impact compressed them all hard. Seth was smacked like a baseball bat had found its way in, recoiling him in a halo of flash melted slag, arm and shoulder hurled back. the metronome shattered, that flickering flame rendered a glowing wick as his foot took a step back from its once locked path. The fatigue locking him down was forcibly receded, he was definitely awake now, and that was not going to happen… ever… again. He hunched forward off the recoil, body not quite matched in rescission. It retook his step like a preprogrammed robot, but his mind raced at what to do about the next shot. He didn’t know why he was here, what he was doing, but none of that matter in the slightest. That glowing wick flared its hardest, trying to redraw his mind, but a bit of power slipped up from under that receding fatigue. Something to use, something to work with. The right tank trained over off his recoiled movements, as the commander relocked his gaze in realization that this was worse than his previous hell now.

Concussion force battered the line again as the tank fired. The shell leaving the barrel this time was different, a solid piece but oddly shaped. A rod extending out from a wider cylindrical base. A HEAT round, like the rockets. And Seth wasn’t going to take any more hits. A shift in the layers of the suit, the ark metal coating inside segmented and spun against the inner layers. The flame... the Garkah were agreeing with him. He jammed the power he’d been given in, a slapdash magnetic pulse generator starting up like it was nothing but an afterthought. The bulk of that power hit this new system and loosed out as he took another step. A radiating wave pushed out from the suit, striking and conking the shell from its straight and narrow flight path. It tumbled, catching drag it wasn’t made for. End over end it sailed past his left side, skipping off the asphalt. The back disintegrated but skipped again, hitting rod down and detonating behind him. The air slammed his suit as chunks of road and metal shrapnel bounced against it, the worst avoided but the danger far from denied.

The commander had withstood the second blast enough to retain his lock, but he was wishing he hadn’t. He shook in apprehension as the third tank finished aiming and fired. Another blast, but his fear led to frozen disregard of it. Another shell, this one fat, solid, and standard. A high explosive shell, not as dangerous to the armor, but it will bang Seth around too much for comfort. Another charge up and power feed. Another step loosed repulsive magnetic pulse. It pushed the shell off its flight path and threw it over his right shoulder. The fat gymnastic hunk of explosives dropped its path close to the sidewalk, touched the road fuse first and- *BOOOOOOOOOOOM* Windows on the nearby building shattered. The blast wave kick the suit like a bass pedal, bashing him forward and ringing his ears. A trickle of blood tickled at a lobe, as the pain beat out the ring. But despite the fiery smoke that swallowed him up, despite meticulous ordinance and the pressure wave's disregard, the beat of metal on asphalt continued and Seth came back into view unharmed.

The commander looked to barely be handling the inability to defeat this metal monstrosity, his troops seemed to catch this fear themselves. Slowly, painfully he raised a shaking hand, a silent signal so his troops wouldn’t hear the fear in his voice. The tanks held their fire, the cycling of rounds undoubtedly taking place. The troops retook their positions but could do little to suppress their apprehension. The APCs reacquired their target, the top mounted machine gunners turned out and racked their cellos to prepare for the crescendo. Every gun was set to do whatever they could to this ever advancing and nigh indestructible terror. The commander raised his hand high for everyone to see, for Seth to see and feel at least some amount of fear for what was about to befall him. One last ditch bluff to get him to stop, to give up, to end this terror before it starts. He closed his eyes tight, not wanting to see their vain attempt at stymying the inevitable end in utter failure. But a whirling whistle caught everyone’s ear before he could solidify his grim resolve.

A metallic tone, like metal in the air. He opened his eyes in time to see a massive metal slab stab down passed his bollard, recoiling him before he realized what it meant. “Sorry, ‘scuse me, coming through!” A voice like a flower drenched in motor oil broke the fear drowning everything out, a overblown stature that immediately drew relieved attention among the frightened soldiers behind the commander. It was a hero, and a hell of a heavy hitter at that.

She was tall, a good six ten, and with a physique that could only truly be called amazonian. Her hair blond but kept short and a little spiky. Her suit surplus like much of the rest, an odd chrome detailing the only stand out feature of the standard dark grey suit. Her insignia though was clearly where all her creativity was put, though vanity may be a bit more apt. It was a landscape sunrise… with her holding a massive sword up in a victorious pose. The awake part of Seth couldn’t really place who she was, but it was pretty easy to guess her specialty. The slab of metal, no... the sword she just chucked over too many unprepared heads was truly abhorrent in size, a blade as tall as or taller than she was and at least a foot and a half in width with a handle that could seat four hands. Its surface was gleaming a dimming greenish hue, not as vibrant as the true Eschenwald but still in the running definitely.

The commander narrowly slid down the bollard as she approached from the rear of the defensive line, after shotputting her sword rather dangerously close to him. But his relief had to be muted, for the soldier’s sake. “Buster!! They said you were headed here, but what the hell took so long!?!” She raised up her bulky arm and rubbed the back of her head as she stooped to face the exacerbated commander. “Heh…heh. Sorry, it’s a bit early for my shift.” The commander did everything in his power to not chastise her for sleeping in on a day like today. But he seemed to noticed just as Seth did. The monotonous beat of his advance had stopped. The commander turned back, both to draw attention back to the task at hand and to see why he now stood dead in his tracks.

That candle, that hypnotic guiding flame, that last lone crack in the abyss subsuming him was snuffed out. All around him he could feel the abyss waking up, feel it ripple in the presence of real resistance, of a real fight. His subconscious, the Garkah, nothing could keep it suppressed anymore. The fatigue and more appealing emotional prospects disregarded and tossed aside. It was coming back to the forefront with a will all its own. Opposite this waxing abyss, this Buster seemed to smile despite the commander’s dire attitude, like it was her natural state. She moved past him and hopped the bollard. Reaching a hand out to grasp her sword, the hue reversing its dim and increasing in luster. “Sorry for keeping you waiting!! Not many villains choose to rampage so early in the morning!! But hey, I’m not complaining… about your timing!” A tension in her grasping arm, muscles made themselves known through short cut sleeve, the wrapping on the grip crinkled audibly in the now quieted air. “What I will say is you have shit choice in targets!!” Her smile was waning, though her eyes belied nothing of her intent. “You have shit regard for other’s wellbeing!!” The sword suddenly lifted, asphalt afforded no purchase on the now dazzling blade that Buster turned around in her hand like a pen… instead of the hundred pound slab of metal that it was. She flashed it into an offensive pointing stance over her right shoulder, shifting her hands to compensate. Her smile disappeared in the exuding hue of the sword, and a true burning anger came to the surface. “And you have a lot of nerve killing MY FRIENDS!!!” The abyss knew full well this was coming, more pain to feed from and more reason to pull power. Seth was subsumed again by the abyss that closed in on his psyche, but he felt the tug of fatigue leave him be as he fell away. Even the abyss couldn’t keep up this constant turmoil. He just had to hope that this ended… before… They all DIE!!!

Asphalt showered back at the commander as Buster suddenly exploded forward, turning her oversized blade out to her right and coming in with a massive sweep. The suit raked low and launched forward in kind, but its moves were a shadow of their former speed. It reverted to heavy clawed steps as the massive blade came in. A doubled armed guard flashed up in the way, the deafening clang of metal on metal. The blade recoiled like a pinwheel, but that new momentum was far from wasted. Buster reversed her stance and spun around from the opposite side. That same recoil stymied a counter attack, only dispersing as her next attack came round. The suit formed a shoulder guard and side stepped into the blade, freeing a hand to strike as the recoil pushed Buster around. Another clang and recoil, but Buster did not spin in place. She leapt off the ground at impact, swinging her like a counter weight.

Instead of Buster, the suit was now counter attacking the blade as it was swung back high. An unballed claw braced and caught just short of the slicing tip. The edge slammed the palm as claws scraped off the surface. The suit was pushed back hard, asphalt cut into ruts by braced talons. But the blade was stopped. Despite his subsuming, his depth, Seth could feel pain from his hand, a touch of cold. A drip of blood appeared out the side of the suit’s claw. Buster shifted into a cleaving stance, pressing hard against that bleeding hand. Her smile returned as she saw her success, but with the obvious taint of malice. The suit growled and pushed up, bringing his freed up right back into the fray, but could do little to Buster with so much blade to traverse. The bleeding claw slipped the blade and pushed down hard as the other palm slammed the bottom of the blade and overpowered her cleaving. The suit’s speed may have been reduced, but its strength was far from hampered. A heavy reverberating gong and Buster was dragged along overhead, hands still retaining their grip on the handle. Despite her new orientation, she was not out of control. Quick counter rotations and weight shifts pulled the sword from out of the suit’s hold, whirling it around with overly trained precision, that titanic blade kicking up dusted asphalt as it finally swept around and steadied her inertia. The suit disregarded her outlandish reflexes and stanched Seth’s hand. The blade had broken through, but the threads bunched up enough on the sides to stop it from cleaving the arm apart. The unneeded streetlights flickered as it pulled power and healed up the wounded flesh and metal. That power started up a softened glow in the eyes, but it was obvious it was drained beyond what a few lights could muster. Buster had the advantage, but it wasn’t- *CRAck*

The suit turned its head in slow order toward the defensive line. Toward the idiot who had the audacity to try and shoot it in the back of the head! A single smoking rifle in the line made it clear. The left burned a little brighter in the now cowering soldier’s direction, but that distraction was all Buster needed. She exploded forward again and leapt as rage drove the suit to intimidate. It wasn’t unaware though and turned up another shoulder guard as she swept in from the right. It braced hard into the blade, but before impact the blade… spun. Buster held loose with one hand and whipped the blade like a roller with the other. All that weight fed massive inertia as the spinning blade scraped across the shoulder. Its spin caused it to climb up with continuous scraping strikes and catch the horns, bashing all that momentum into the suit’s head.

It recoiled back, disorientated as the blade kicked off the head. But Buster wasn’t done. She landed down off her leap, retook hold of her blade and redirected that momentum back toward him from the left. She swung away like a batter against the world’s heaviest baseball. The suit had only moments to pull up all a left guard and dig in as the sword struck home. Another clang of metal on metal, but a guard wasn’t going to be enough this time. Asphalt gave way and the suit was sent back end over end, back skipping off the road and flipping over. A dragged claw stopped the tumble, more ruts dug into the gradually ruining road way. Skidding to a stop, the suit felt Seth’s pain, the sting of the blade again. The arm had lined up cuts where it had blocked. They oozed blood and denatured gel layer. That damn blade wasn’t just dumb metal. Another pull of power to heal, the surrounding buildings flickering out, but- *CRACRACRACRA*.

An APC opened up, plinking the suit hard with thirty millimeter shells. It turned harshly and roared at the cannon fire scattering over the helmet, a greater burn starting to grow in the eyes. The commander desperately yelled over the radio- “STOP FIRING DAMNIT!!!” as the cannon ceased. The look of fear in him had dissipated as the fight looked to sway, he had something in mind that gave him back some hope.

The suit raged at the soldiers, but turned back to its real opponent before she could start up another attack. Her demeanor shifted to smug understanding, she was clued in as well. But all of this meant little as rage drove the suit on despite its fatigued. It flashed claws and charged at her, a little more speed wrung out. Buster had long since shifted back to an offensive stance, but shifted again to meet the suit head on. She stabbed her sword into its wide stance, intent on catching it off guard. But while the suit was slower than before, it was still quick to react. It pulled the left back as the blade came in, pulling its whole body to the side. Dragging left running down this over extended abhorrent slab, sparking across its surface in suspiciously even intervals. Buster ducked back as the claw cleared the blade and came for her face, the suit leaping up in the middle of her stance. A metal claw grazed her cheek, tearing a hair line cut. Her smug expression wavered only slightly as she glared at that red eye. But she forgot about the tail! The whole suit whipped around in the air, swiping its heavy metal limb around under her blade and into her gut. Buster was thrown back with the wind kicked out of her, feet staying under her but a hand reaching to hold her bruising abs. The suit completed its spin, stamping down and rising up with a new found devilish pride. This wasn’t so one sided. But its slight celebration was cut short by-“FIRE!!!”.

The commander had yelled over the radio again, but this time it was directed- *BOOOOOOM* At one of the tanks. It responded with another HEAT shell, thinking Seth was off his guard. The suit wasn’t. The pulse generator charged up again and fired in response, sending the shell spiraling past the head as it turned its burning red eye down the gunner’s sights, haloed by the round exploding on the devastated roadway. That was their plan, distraction from both sides to allow for clear shots. Then it just had to stay as close to Buster as it could.

A claw stabbed the ground and pulled power again, overused muscles and nerves cried in exhaustion but this was no time to be slow. The burn in its eye intensified before it immediately dropped low and shooting off toward Buster. Talons chewed through the asphalt as the suit snaked into range, opposite claw kept low to the ground for a massive upswing. Buster shifted off her cradling and brought her sword ahead, the pain in her gut causing her to wince out of reacting to counter the suit’s charge. Instead she pushed and turned the blade out sideways, putting her free hand to the middle and prepared to block as Seth came in. The suit raked up the width of the blade, another sequential spark shower highlighting contact. The impromptu metal wall was forced up, a clear line of attack created below it, but that was short lived. Buster turned her blade down, traction from her backing hand pulling it down despite its momentum. She pressed her advantage as the suit pulled its arm down to attack again, kicking off with that wall brought to bear.

The suit received a face full of metal as the gab evaporated. Buster steamrolled into it like a linebacker, pushing it back as it struggled for purchase, feet skipping off the ground without staking. But this wasn’t a complete loss. The head was pressed to the green hued metal, close enough to feel it through the helmet, to hear it thrum. The sword was oscillating, vibrating rapidly in place. That was how it got through, that was how it could cut the suit. Well not anymore! The oscillation had a source, the core of the blade was like a magnetic heart, and the suit had a defibrillator.

It gripped the sides of the blade as Buster pushed it on, intent in tossing him with enough momentum. Instead the suit regained stature and stabbed its talons down hard and slowed the both of them to a crawling stop, tearing through the road with callous disregard. Buster strained to get him unstuck, to get free of the suit's grip, but he was practically buried in the asphalt as they came to a grinding halt, right where it wanted to be. The pulse generator charged up again, the strength in Seth’s threading pulled out to fuel it. It pulled the head back, horns arcing with electricity, and with a forceful whip, it slammed the head down onto this abomination of steel and loosed. The pulse stopped that oscillator dead, caused it to build up tension where it once released, and set it against its wielder with callous intent. It rebounded hard against itself, against Buster, against everything. She received a face full of her own metal, sent flying haphazardly without the control she'd flaunted prior. The suit received just as much, head snapped back by the out of control blade, but it could its ground. It hunched over off the partial concussion, the energy expenditure getting the best of him, but it had the edge now. The suit tensed, that eye burning up with a malicious masked grin. It stabbed into the ground again in a sprinter’s stance before shooting out of the rut it had been locked in.

The road pitted exploded, claws trailing dusted road as they balled into fists. It pulled away strength again, localized the pulse to the right arm. Buster was off balance, her blade in a state like cardiac arrhythmia that caused it to struggle under her grip. She only had moments to wrangle her blade before the suit came in and struck it again. Another pulse released and slammed the blade back into her, kicking her back a few more feet. She flared her frustration, whipped the blade back behind her, tightening her grip and quieting its terminal heart. The suit pulled more power, more strength, charged up its arms to pulse one after the other. Buster’s massive weight shift stopped her momentum, but her face read like a roaring fire. The suit stared her down with dukes up and ready, Seth could feel himself smiling unconsciously. This just became an actual fight, and it was way too excited.

The asphalt shattered in unison as both fighters exploded forward, rights locked to attack with wild abandon. Buster gripping tight with both hands, a multi swing combo set to carve him to ribbons. The suit tightening its fists to near armor cracking levels, pulses swirling around waiting for release. The first impact saw blade meet fist and expectation shatter. Both recoiled, armored fist cracked from the impact but did not get cut. The pulse was weak, but still enough for the blade to lose its edge. But Buster was prepped for this now. She shifted the momentum like before, carried her blade over to strike from the other side as the suit launched its next attack. Edge met fist again with similar results, but the blade’s heart was losing rhythm again, becoming unstable. Buster reacted, pulled her struggling sword low off the recoil, but shifted her grip as the suit loosed its next hit. It aimed low as well, had to counter each hit and kill that magnetic heart. But the sword turned flat as Buster at last let go of the hilt.

The pulse fist struck flat metal and recoiled it without anything to stop it, as the rest of the weight seesawed into the suit. The hilt smacked the helm with all the force it put in, rang in more concussion and knocking it low as Buster leapt after her sword. A forceful push back and down stuck it into the ground like a vaulting pole, her body scrunching up as tight as she could manage, and a lot of momentum pulling her around. Both feet aimed right at his head. A double kick slammed into the side of the helmet and the suit fell like a toppled statue. Not much comparable force, but enough to counter what was left of its concussed balance. Buster did her best to twist over off her kick, but her blade pulled her in odd directions and she tumbled back and on to the ground as well. Seth was dazed from the constant head trauma, but the suit was able to reorient quickly, flipping over and twisting up.

“FIRE!!!” Another tank shot, a fat high explosive shell. The fight had brought them close to the bollards, but you shoot what you have regardless of blast radius and collateral damage. The eye flared as the suit whipped a pulse left around deflecting the shell off course. It tumbled passed like all the rest but- *BOOOOOOOOOOOMMM* a little too close. The kick and heat crashed against the back, forced its way in and battered all it could. The suit was nearly thrown forward as Seth’s ears bleed from the danger close pressure wave, and his back singed as metal over heated. The battlefield shrank as clouds of dust and soot choked it up. Buster only righted herself after the shell had passed, not wanting her head taken off. She winced off the blast wave, preferring to looking back in annoyance toward the tank that just gave her tinnitus. She whipped out her blade up, righting the oscillator and prepping for more.

The suit splayed out its claws in exacerbated menace, bending over and lurching forward. But its step was stymied by the striking of thirty millimeter shells from the right. They still shattered across his armor, but Seth’s worn body was recoiled by the heavy hits. The suit was pulling too much strength. Buster saw her chance, taking a runner’s stance and launching forward with her sword pointed ahead as the cannon died down. The suit had shakily put up a guard before it stopped, but saw Buster run in. It pushed its guard out and shifted positions, sparking against the blade as it skewered passed. Buster kept running, swinging her blade back as she got distance and rounded on the left. Another burst of cannon fire stop the suit from giving chase, shells showering over its turned back.

The suit tried to charge up a pulse, but the power was drained from everything around and it couldn't take everything from Seth or this wouldn’t be much of a fight. Buster sprinted up as the cannon ceased and swung hard with one hand, leaping up to catch Seth in the head as he rose off the cannon fire. The suit rose up, but quickly dropped its knees, horns skimming the blade as it ducked under it. It twisted, turned to face Buster’s new direction. She shifted with her momentum and skidded to a stop, just as another burst of cannon fire opened up, but quickly fell silent. Two shells scattered over the armor, but no more… as the suit found a new power source.

The tank’s drive motors fell silent and sputtered, the APC’s autoloaders stopped dead, as did their engines. The electrically run turrets and gun drives, engine spark plugs, ancillary batteries, the fucking radios! The whole defensive line was sapped as the suit rose up, charged and ready to counter again. Its eyes flared at Buster, horns arced electricity, claws balled as it stomped down off its pull and stanced up to meet her attack. She gritted her teeth, but grim determination took hold quickly. She pulled her blade in tight on her hip, both hands holding it out in another skewer. She pressed her foot down and cracked the torn up asphalt. Her suit bunched, muscles tensing past their limit, she was going to finish this come what may. But her tension knew no longevity as- "YAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!" she exploded forward like she was charging a full battle line, road turned to rubble with every step. There was a metal clang under her roar, a tube filling and closing. But what mattered right now was catching that blade and tearing it free of her titanic grip once and for all.

The suit shifted right, but left its left back as Buster charged her blade into the empty space. It pushed a foot into the asphalt, shoved the right into the flat of the blade but held the pulse. Once in, it clamped its left over the other side and loosed the pulse in the right. The blade kicked out, dragging Buster with it as she held on for dear life. Like a shotput, She was swung back where she came from as the suit whirled around and let the blade loose, her grip too strong to break apparently, but tossing her around was good enough for- *BOOOOOOOOM* The suit turned with its shotput, left eye looking out from its slit as perception reared its grim head… as a HEAT shell came flying at it. The suit was in the same spot as before, the tank didn’t need to move or shift, just wait for his head to reenter its sights. The eye flared as it realized there wasn’t time to charge a new pulse, or dodge out of the way, or… anything. All it could do was shut that eye as hard as it could and brace with every fiber of their being.

The metal rod out in front of the shell slammed and smooshed against the armor, splaying into friction heated spalling. The armor rippled in concentric waves, but refused to crack. But that was just the detonator. The fuse blew in millionths of a second, setting off the concave cone that made up the main charge. It burst in fiery destruction, but the cone shape directed the blast at the sole point of contact… at Seth’s eye. A jet-like explosion disintegrated the detonator rod, melting it away with a copper jet of molten death. The outer layer of armor began to scour away, the aluminum and ark metal blend not meant for protection. Next the conductive main layer. The crystalline metal melted, the weakened threading losing out over the mass molten jet of copper. The explosion pushed the melted layer away as it reached the ferroceramic. The clay burned and cracked as it should, absorbing the blast. But the layers used to defeat tank shells like this are much thicker. The scorched plate was blasted away, the molten copper jet dissipated with it. The gel layer went next, boiling away under the explosive force and heat. So all that was left was…

The explosion smashed over Seth’s head, a cloud of fire and smoke left in its wake. Buster, the commander, the soldiers on the line, they all held their breath as the metal body, bent in almighty recoil, fell back with its head obscured by smoke. It inched over, following the explosive push imparted on it. Every one watched in anxious terror, ears ringing the scene to silence, hope burgeoning that this nightmare was over. But that hope died as the right foot moved to stop the fall back, staking talons hard into the indistinguishable roadway. The smoke drifted, dissipated, and a vision of the damage flashed before everyone’s eyes. The armor was holed in a wide space over the eye, layer after layer burned away and blackened. But the skin under… was destroyed beyond definition. Char and burn matched between surviving metal and debatable flesh. The only signifier it was even there in that void was the glowing cracks that crossed the hole. Cracks that spread a little too far. But in that barely resolved moment of vision… true terror was realized… As that eye opened.

It burned… everything burned. Fire and melt seeped between suit and skin, broiling flesh and igniting bone. He couldn’t breathe, burn charring down his throat. He couldn’t move, muscle filled with wanton shrapnel and cooked to charcoal. Nerves tried to die quickly, to spare him, to stymy the suffering, but he could still feel... everything. Snapping and popping accentuated this hell, as his bones were turned to kindling. He struggled to grab at that power it took. He had to heal, he had… to stop… this agony! But he couldn’t. It wouldn’t let him! The pain fed the abyss what it wanted… his rage, his resentment, his malice. And it was glutted with it now. The eye burned like before, a red star burning through the lingering cordite and smoked flesh that poured every edge of the suit. It turned his body, denied him everything, and faced their new target. It hunched off the turn, his body racked with unimaginable agony and suffocating exhaustion, but that didn’t matter. Power was drawn up, strength pulled completely away. The armor began to repair the damage, invisible threads snatched blasted remnants from the air and returned them to their rightful place, but those threads weakened in the pull.

The defensive line watched in horror as all the damage they ever managed to do was disappearing before their eyes. Before the armor fully healed, the helmet snapped open, jagged edges coming apart in another abyssal maw, electricity arced between the edges. That oozing red glow emanating from that insatiable empty void, a charging whir echoing from inside. The burn on the eye flared as the last of the armor puzzle pieced back in place, the eye slit amplifying its luminance. The soldiers all hesitated, they knew this was the end but they couldn’t run, couldn’t will themselves to move. All they could do was watch as death came about- *CCCCRREEEEEEEEENNNN* for Seth.

The sound of metal rend, a sharp spreading of new pain, a sudden involuntary shift up, the dissipation of that monstrous whir, and the thrum of oscillating metal filling the void. Buster had seen her chance, Seth’s rage had consumed the suit’s focus and left them vulnerable. She dashed into the smoke and dust that clouded the battlefield and came about on him, blade set to skewer into his back and hopefully disrupt his charge up. She launched herself with no time for regard, stabbing with all the strength she had. But where armor had slowed and stymied her previous attacks, it now presented no resistance. The blade sliced and pushed aside threads spread thin and waning away, the abyss had siphoned everything it could to get revenge. Layer after layer sliced open as the blade carved through with its constant vibration. Metal split with little resistance, what ceramic remained turned to dust, gel blasted away in the vibratory cacophony. Then the blade skewered flesh… and kept going. Through bone and artery, pipe and stomach, finally coming out the other end of his sternum. It sliced through the other side and out, only grinding to a halt when nearly half the blade was impaled through and when Seth was finally returned to this world in full.

Like a popped balloon releasing the air it once held, the abyss had relinquished its hold on its dying host. Seth was free of its obfuscation, its overriding control, but what he came back to was nothing but that feast of anguish. The burning flesh, the totaled strength, the stinging intrusion of cold thrumming steel. He couldn’t remember what had happened, what he’d done, all he could feel... was the approach of death yet again. He could feel blood come up every time he tried to breathe, each unconscious action eliciting a deep prang in his chest, as the gravity of this intrusion made itself abhorrently clear. His heart beat in desperate fashion, but every cycle tore it against the blade that bifurcated it. He felt blood and acid pool and press down on his diaphragm, a spreading cold inching with every beat and a sickening bottomless pit coloring his fully realized hell. He tried to focus, to look down at his wound. The helmet shut its maw and fused, but before he could look down at the blade through his chest his balance gave out. His legs stumbled him forward, and a tenuous grip from behind released. Buster had still been holding her blade to the last, the oscillating hum ceasing as her grip fell away, as Seth’s knees gave out. All the weight he carried now came crashing down to the devastated asphalt below. The road cracked and a wave of dust kicked up. He tried to lift his hand to the blade, a last grasp at saving himself. But it was stuck fast, the oscillation had fused it to his suit and sealed it tight. His vision grew dark at the edges, his blood was draining away from where it was needed, his lungs collapsing under their own weight. More of his body fell numb with every passing second, fell cold and empty. That was when the flashes started.

His life flowed in reverse before his eyes, like an out of control slide show. The last vestiges of his mind desperate to survive. He saw his fights, his rage, his hope, his mom. He saw his new friends fly by, his struggles disappear. He saw his career come and go, his life at the orphanage. He followed his steps through the hell of the crisis, past all the horrors he’d experienced. He saw his family disappear in the blink of an eye again. But… then he saw his life before. His parents teaching him about other cultures with stupid tacky calendars covered in heroes he liked. His birthdays eating cinnamon waffles his dad made different each time so he’d remember each one. His parents trying their hardest to teach him things he seemed to forget almost immediately. He saw his old friends, his old neighbors helping to make him feel wanted and cherished, and get sick of his forgetfulness. He saw himself wake up with barely any understanding of what happened the previous day, but a fresh imagination of what his favorite things were. He saw his parents dread what would become of their son, but do their damnedest to lift him up and help him remember at least something. He saw it all like he’d always had those memories, but never realized they were there. They passed and faded as his vision blackened further. As his thoughts died away, as his feelings dimmed. His strength finally fell away completely and he fell to the ground. The sword angled his fall to the side, dropping him on his right. A last gasp of his consciousness drove him to reach out, toward home… toward rest. But that gasp realized he had it already, he had his rest right here. Even if it was the cold void he had raged against… it was quiet, peaceful. At long last it had what it wanted. That candle extinguished to its last ember.

The suit fell limp all at once, a burst of dust and force signaling the release of all the energy Seth had left in him. It was a pitiful kick up, but the message was clear. The soldiers and Buster all looked on, too hesitant to check and make sure it was over. But this was it, this was the end. Seth was dead…

To the world.