It might be easier waiting for Jaz's report, but time was not something that any Strider's Striker
could spare at this moment. Security reinforcements were taking too long. Something had gone
terribly wrong or somehow delayed the usual guards. Mike felt an overwhelming sense of
anxiety grip at him, a tension now tight in his shoulders and lower neck. How is this happening
again? What cost will this team pay to simply stay alive?
At that instant, a laser no thicker than a needle pierced into his neck. With a sudden tingle in his
brain and the shimmer of light visible from the weapon's beam, he realized he'd been shot. A
precise weapon, it had to have been fired by some kind of sniper hiding in the surrounding
buildings. Mike also knew he'd lost control of his body when he tried to draw his slugthrower
up. While the shot might not have proven fatal yet, he was completely helpless. The stress and
tension that had pulled so hard at him just moments ago was gone. It seemed he was floating.
His body crumpled to the ground. His head crashed hard into the gravel but he was lucky
enough to have gravity place him on his back. His vision began to blur, then focused more
clearly than he'd ever experienced before. Mike could see the stars for a moment, so far away
past the glow of the barracks' porch light. And then he could see a masked figure standing over
him, aiming a needler rifle directly into his face. Jasmine had been right. Jasmine.
And then a burst of high velocity plastic shards struck out at him. And again. And again. But
Mike was far away from that pain by now.
Ryan Allen had seen the emergency stress beacon flashing for the past four and a half minutes.
What he hadn't seemed to figure out was why his beacon failed to access any of the other
Strikers when he attempted to message them. Of course the obvious solution would be to
simply make radio contact instead, but this too had failed just over a minute ago when he had
tried it. What the hell is happening out there?
Regardless of the looming danger, Ryan knew he was going to have to leave the Headquarters
main hall and make his way to the barracks area just down the street. He was surrounded by
books, dozens of them, all research done on known terrorist organizations. Here was a
document detailing the latest actions by the Black Dragon movement, there an anthropological
field study done on one of the Blakist militia sects of Wasat in the Free Worlds League. Ryan
had been racking his brain for more information on their unknown attackers, and now it seemed
they might have struck again.
As he walked across the room and turned off the lights, he quickly came up with an idea for
dealing with tonight's situation. Choosing to go directly to the main security building, he hoped to
find someone who could help him investigate the living quarters. He looked out the closed blinds
just to the left of the main door. He could see nothing for the moment but hoped his eyes would
adjust soon.
As he waited, Ryan readied his weapon, a gyrojet rifle he'd picked up from a stash in the main
hall's security room. The guard usually posted there had been called off early so Ryan could
ensure he'd had privacy while examining the documents. Things had been completely sideways
for the past eight months, with a Marik S.A.F.E. agent discovered amongst the Striker ranks and
an Alamo-class nuclear explosive detonated during a training exercise. No one could be trusted,
and that left the original team members depending solely on each other for fact-checking.
Ryan's mind rushed through the suspects again as his eyes started to focus on the shadows
outside the hall. Black Dragons. Word of Blake. The Denouncement. That last one hit
several nerves in Ryan, some in his left arm, a grim reminder of injuries received while fighting the
Denouncement sect on this very planet nearly two and a half years ago. The scum had dared
invade the Irece Prefecture then and had nearly destroyed the team. What hated enemies
we've made with those freaks.
He looked again through the blinds, this time slowly and carefully over all in his field of vision.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. It was time.
As he opened the door slowly, Ryan slipped out and locked it manually with his security card.
He tiptoed his way towards the right edge of the building, keeping far from the footpath and
staying hidden in the depths of the hall's encompassing shadow. He peeked around the corner
and then moved further towards the security building. It was across the way, almost directly in
front of him. He suddenly realized the night watchman's spotlight had been turned off. Peering at
the spotlight tower, he squinted his eyes in an attempt to see anything suspicious.
It was then that the building exploded in a resounding thump, glass shattering out of its windows
and the northern portion splintering into hundreds of fragments. In simultaneous explosions, the
security building and the command lance barracks building blew apart. Smoke bled from the
buildings, though open flames could not yet be seen. Strider. Mace. Pike.
Ryan knew Colonel Strider had probably been away for the night, no doubt slipping out after
dark to join his girlfriend Jasmine Geutie of the Acer's Hueys partner unit. However he also
knew that he'd never seen Mark Pike, or Maverick as he was known, out at this time. Mace
was also usually home at this hour. He prayed they had been warned in time via the emergency
transmitters each of them wore.
Sliding back into the shadows of the other barrack buildings, Ryan began moving towards the
command barracks. His cover was disappearing under the soft glow of the barrack building
lamps. Sadly, losses in the security building were secondary at this point. If Colonel Strider or
Star Colonel Carns were dead, everything would be chaos. We need our leaders. Please
don't be dead, not after all this.
Ryan could now smell fire. It was coming from the security building behind him, a soft wind
blowing the noxious fumes of burning plastic into his nostrils. The guards had been killed.
Nothing else could explain their absence, unless they were working for the enemies. That was
something he had never even considered up to this point.
Ryan drew up his rifle and ran low to the ground, making good time but sacrificing his own safety
to do so. Though he'd not seen anything suspicious up to now, he suddenly ran into something
hard. Pain burst into his knees and left elbow, all of which had crunched into the unseen wall. In
the soft glow of the overhead lights, he could only make out a small, bizarre red shape moving in
mid-air. The red was paint. Or blood. Something was standing just in front of him. It was hard
as a rock and hidden from his natural eyesight.
"Identify yourself!" Ryan screamed out. He would take no chances under the circumstances.
As the night breeze brought smoke onto his position, Ryan could make out wisps of the foul air
in the light, moving off of an invisible giant, a great hulking phantom. It was only a meter away.
