posted on Jul, 30 2014 @ 12:53 AM
Working title...chapter 1
The rain fell heavy upon the cockpit, the world outside was a grey Monet with green captured between the rivulettes. The General squinted through the
blur the thunder rolling often with hidden flashes of light shooting contrast across the green boughs high above his head. He could hear the creak
and groan of the jungle in the relentless wind and his eyes pierced the canopy to the storm racked sky. Another one, a streak of flame first like a
sun behind the clouds it burst forth in a roar and streaked underneath the clouds giving them an unnatural fire, the trail of smoke was thick and
Another one... The General mouthed under his breath, deep in his mind, drifting to how he came to this place. No! He refused to let
his mind wander at this crucial moment, everything hinged upon the success of this battle. His life depended upon it. He was being hunted, but more
importantly than his life was the movement. He had labored tirelessly for years to ensure that nothing could uproot their revolution. Years of
planning, of killing, assassinating, the Terror, the Purge, all of it leading to the last of this resistance and here he was stuck in this jungle.
He glanced to the arms of his mighty machine, the metal painted in the tiger's stripes, green and grey and brown he slipped deep into the jungle. He
faced an enemy that was the complete opposite of his being, a righteous rage burned within him to kill them all. The machine was a part of him, it
groaned and breathed as he did, not by any connection the controls were still comparatively analogue, but the power fluctuations between different
components made them move subtly at different times causing a sense of life, an ebb and flow between readiness and rest.
He was a warrior, his mind a world apart from his enemy, mere soldiers, mere consumers, useful idiots in the end of an era of imperialism. They
shopped at malls and mega stores, they sold their nation to China, their manufacturing to slaves, their money they gave away in an orgy of
materialism. That ruin was gone, the inflation, the unemployment, the loss of everything that was promised would be given by the politicians if only
we had a free trade, a borderless world. The only one who benefited were the elites, the Global Imperialists. And he has killed them all. A life
time of hunting them, their children, their grandchildren.
When he seized power of the government the first decree was anyone related to a Great grandparent who was a Politician or a member of the senior
bureaucracy would forever be banned from office. He didn't want to kill them all, they forced it upon them with their counter revolution. But he
was happy to oblige. He had a plan that they did not for see. A final solution to the end of this parasitic system, a return to feudalism. From the
ashes of their wealth he gave it away to his warriors who had to earn it, who had to live a life of solitary war. This system he reasoned would
endure beyond anything constructed by mere nationalism or globalism. It was the family that was strong, and he gave the means for a family to be
stronger than a nation.
Blood was the bond, iron was the tool, the great machine he now sits in is the revolution, not the solution to the problems, not equality, not a new
constitution, this machine has changed everything and in war all that has burned away. Giant machines of war powered by a single pilot carrying
anti-air and massive ground weapons, 100 ton machines with a large enough footprint to be versatile on different terrains. He did not know what
exactly would replace the old world, but he knew at last families had the means to protect themselves from predatory governments and globalists ---
A crash of lightning and a fallen tree.
It was another walker moving through the trees it had not yet detected him yet, they were hunting and searching, gridding methodically. He had to
react quickly, first he slinked back deeper into the trees to put distance between him and them, he already knew the terrain and a limitation over his
left shoulder, some rocky crag, but he wasn't cornered. It was time. Time to show the might of a warrior. This wasn't a simulation, or training,
he was not some academy graduate from the city learning all the tactics and movements of these machines, he was a killer, he has done this for decades
and has loved it. The first flash and crash of a direct hit from a position of cover was nearly orgasmic, a full broadside and the #er was dead. He
took 5 inch auto-cannons to the chest like a simulation trained pro. Shells flew through the trees bouncing off bole and limb and smoke mixed with
rain. Turning as he was falling to bring weapons to bear the opponent burst into an explosion, a heap of burning garbage and ammunition. The
containment of the cold fusion reactor failed and a brief explosion occurred like a blue inferno, the General had sense enough to stand clear but he
couldn't get enough distance, sometimes he has seen those reactors detonate like a tactical nuke.
It is the risk of the attack that sometimes proximity is an issue. But, this attack was successful though it told him little about the gridding
pattern though he recalled the entry vehicle and assumed he is on the edge given its direction and angle. Assumptions are never good but sometimes
risks are, at least he killed one more bastard. Some dupe, probably a no named recruit given promises of an ordinary life.
The General sneared through his scared face (an earlier injury upon a dash board led him to make more rounded edges, he spend days filing the edges
down) that's what he was really here for, what all his men were dying for. They gave up on the ordinary suburban life. Burn it all, kill them all,
take everything you can for yourself became the motto. Take it, and kill the people who have it, kill the people who keep their wealth by the law.
LAW!!!! What is law? Out here this is the law! He thought to himself as he turned his machine deeper into the jungle, his guns, his skill,
law is no match for a man who is willing to die to gain everything. No law can save your wealth. Only the gun. Checking his systems he could see
that in a matter of seconds he emptied 32, 5 inch shells into that bastard.
A little too much, but it was typical for the first kill of the day to usually go all out. At least he told himself that, trying to reassure
himself he wasn't just getting old and tired. He wiped the sweat from his brow, glared into the forest, glanced at his heads-up displays noting no
enemies using radar. He pinged and as he thought, saw no enemies on his active radar. The jungle is a great location to hide in, the volume of trees
and this storm were a perfect mask.
It was just him, his wits, against them, and the elements and time were still in his favor.