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« on: June 27, 2015, 05:29:19 am »
Some fan fiction for your pleasure.
Im enjoying this series immensely!
G O D S A N D T I T A N S
By: Jstank
The Sky Marshals engines burned brightly through the early morning sky. Those underneath knew not of the hope the two spots of light represented and some even ran in fear, thinking only of the lights to which came before it. A silvery monster had landed only hours before spewing dark demons into the city. Slaughter was indiscriminate and every passing moment became more terrifying than the last. Dark shadowy creatures and giant slimy figures with eerie toothy grins roamed the streets. Shooting and screaming ensued. Death came quick but didn't last. Slain carcasses lined the streets, then rose again to find new prey. It was high noon when the silver craft rotated its engines vertical and began its fateful descent.
Inside the sleek Sky-Marshal 10 heroes waited for the crafts giant garage sized back hatch to slide open. Images of a routine mission played in their head. The success of their predecessors gave them a false sense of security and confidence. In human circles, XCOM holds an immortal aura. Its members clad in the most sophisticated armor and who wield technology beyond their races age are regarded as Gods among mortal men whose purpose is solely to come and to devour man’s worst enemy. That enemy is the alien menace who threatens their very planet. However, even Gods have been known to be slain by Titans, and today one such Titan aimed to take his rightful place upon Mount Olympus's throne, and cast all who oppose him into the River of Styx.
The Black Demon, as he was later called was not born, he was designed. He needs not technology to accomplish his mission. A killing machine constructed for one purpose. He is fast and swift. His skin stops bullets and flying bits of flaming metal. His poison sucks the life out of his prey then just as quickly converts it into a being in an image of himself who then repeats its deadly dance with great efficiency. Deployed into areas of high population, the Black Demon moves like a plague. Those who are not converted to the true faith are left to terrified to fight, and then turn on each other as the poet Dante had predicted at the end of days. Experts agree he is the Devil incarnate. He is the Chrysalid.
The doors of the Sky-Marshel open with a great woosh. Hyper intelligent and well trained dogs of war galloped into battle. A great mechanical beast followed in their wake ready to dispense with great anger and vengeance those who opposed it. Within 10 seconds these weapons vanished from the field, leaving the Demi-Gods of earth against the great Demon and his master.
The battle raged to a stale mate. Commander Meridian had come to the realization that his weapons were not as effective as he once hoped. With his scouts and advanced mechanical steed slain, he was left with 10 against many. Commander Meridian, for the first time in his long and decorated carrier had flinched. A mere 25 seconds into the battle he nearly decided to "bail", and his decision to take on a lesser demon instead of concentrating fire on the real threat proved that his mind was shaken. But this shaken state only lasted for a fleeting moment. His instinct then overtook him, and he lead on putting his men to their graves. In his mind every less Chrysalid is an uncountable number of lives saved. The black demons got so close that they scratched the door of the gleaming Sky-Marshal, they closed to a range of no more than 10 feet. Then they advanced.
Face to face with the black demons precursor, a lumbering corpse, Fishfood, a rookie soldier unloaded his clip. It was in vain as at the same instant he was shot by his compatriot from behind. "Better him than me" muttered Gavin. "He could have killed us all!"
With the Sky Marshal clear, Cmd. Meridian ordered an assault on the decimated city. The men of XCOM threw grenades and shot hot bolts of Gauss through the thick rays of the afternoon sun. The fear that initially gripped them gave way to years of cool and collected training. They fell back on instinct; the Demi Gods marched on to its beat, put one foot in front of the other, took knees, lined up shots, took deep breaths and squeezed their triggers. The resulting unearthly scream releases dopamine to their brains. The mix of exhilaration, and adrenaline produced a high that is known to those who dance with death. But death is no stranger to these Gods, who will soon know that they are mortal.
One by one and step by step the rushing gush of the Black Demon wore on the soldiers gleaming equipment and armor. Their suites to which they drew their immortal vibe faded to dust with each passing rotation. The smoke was so thick it blocked their vision, and provided much appreciated cover to their adversary who lurked from within. It was as if the demons were charging down a slope against a flank of noble defenders who had left their spears at home.
Despite missing their spears, the men charged into the darkness and wildly spread their fire and bodies. One by one they were picked off by the black demon and their yellow faced keepers. The men soon found that the only thing more terrifying than a Chrysalid is a well-placed Snake Man with impeccable aim and a taste for human suffering.
Mathematics, which had propelled man to unspeakable heights throughout the ages now worked against them. The last demon on the field, drawing his demonic power from death himself became two then turned to three then to four. Exponentially they grew feeding on the ever decreasing number of foolishly brave and newly minted mortals who fell one by one to the dark conversion.
Respect is not given, and even between mortal enemies respect can be had. All shades of blood were spilt on this day. Both minds were shaken to the point of break, and both minds knew fear. But when the dust settled as the sun set in the western sky, the victor, exhausted, stood over the broken and bloody throne and sat in a pool of not only his enemy’s blood, but his own. As he gazed upon his newly acquired turf, littered with mangled bodies, he contemplated at what had been done.
The once gleaming Sky-Marshal, the symbol of the ultimate power of man, then limped into the setting sun with only a single Squaddie Herman at the helm. For this story will never be forgotten. The blood seeping out of the silver bird’s crevices only serves as a permanent reminder that we are not Gods upon this Earth.
- Based on a most excellent playthrough by Meridian!
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