Nyx Tower

  Persephone's razor claws cutting into the flesh of his face prevented Perelli from looking away. His friends, his cause, his purpose, it all burned before him. Tears and blood mixed and caked his face. A deep sob was welling up from within him. Everything that had happened; years of work, bloodshed, struggle, anguish, confusion, war. It was all coming to a head here. It had all come to a head with him... and he had failed. He wanted to retreat within, to curl up and die. He wished from the depths of his heart that Persephone would just kill him.

  His entire body had gone numb. But still some piece of fire still burned inside him. It was little more than a spark. He still struggled weakly against the vampire's grasp despite its fruitlessness.

  Persephone sneered at him. "Look at you." She spat on him. "All that vigor, that vitriol, that you came in here with, it's all stamped out. The weakness of human spirit."

  He wanted to refute her, he wanted to spit back. He wanted to say "Go fuck yourself!", but he couldn't. He could barely breath.

  With one last breath, one he expected was his last, his mind went blank and something pulled him into his subconscious, something forceful. It gripped him and refused to let him turn it away. Within his mind's eye, he faced it. It was Checkmate. He was surprised. He wanted to ask her for help, to beg for it if he had to, but instead he just stared blankly at the angel. He could not meet her eye. He felt shame for failing.

  The angel could feel it. Her light-entwined hand reached out and touched his shoulder.

  "All is lost." He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

  "All you need is a spark." She held out her hand. "And all I will need is you."

  "What are you going to do?" he asked.

  "I'm going to take control... but I need your permission." Her tone was deadly serious. Her eyes shimmered gold.

  "Whatever you have to do." He shrugged.

  She shook her head. "No, I need you to say it. It must be explicit. What comes next will be excruciating, but it is the only way to survive it."

  Perelli licked his lips. "I give you my soul. To wreak justice upon the wicked. To bring an end to suffering." He said the first words that came to his mind, hoping that was what she wanted.

  When he did, she inhaled deeply and took hold of him, gripping his arms tightly. Her hair was lit with gold fire, her eyes shined brighter than the sun.

  "This will hurt you. Alot."

  She fell into him.

  Perelli felt his consciousness rupture.

  When he next opened his eyes, his body did not feel his. He was a passenger now. Despite his lack of control, he still felt everything.

  Every nerve felt like a electric resistor superheating. His thoughts were torn apart and rewoven faster than he could process. Pain no longer arrived in waves—it became the atmosphere he existed in.

  He wanted to scream but his mouth would not move.

  Gold and blue light rippled along his skin, emanating from him.

  Stand, she told him—not in words, but in command.

  In the physical world, Persephone recoiled.

  Perelli’s body convulsed violently in her grasp. His blood burned gold. His tears became sparks. It hurt her physically to continue to hold him.

  The holy dagger skittered across the floor and back into his waiting palm.

  Metal twisted the moment it made contact, extending back into a glowing greatsword.

  Persephone hissed and loosened her grip.

  “What—”

  Perelli’s eyes opened.

  They were no longer human.

  They were suns.

  With a single, instinctive motion—guided by Checkmate’s will—he drove the blade upward.

  Light tore through Persephone’s arm.

  Her shriek split the chamber.

  Flesh, bone, and sorcery parted like a mist being burned away. Her claws disintegrated into drifting ash. She was hurled backward across the throne room, smashing through pillars and obsidian statuary.

  Perelli rose to his knees.

  Checkmate’s presence filled him.

  We stand now, she prompted. And brace.

  The sky carrier hit.

  Hundreds of thousands of tons struck the top of Nyx Tower like the fist of God himself. It annihilated it.

  The massive airborne supercarrier, bleeding flame and trailing smoke from holes torn open by anti-air finally lost structural cohesion. Its forward mass clipped the upper spire of Nyx Tower.

  The tower collapsed, every floor was pulled along with the carrier's immense bulk and dragged down.

  The top twenty floors disintegrated in a fraction of a second. Concrete atomized. Steel liquefied. Glass became a storm of razors. The red beacon vanished in a nova of incandescent debris.

  The carrier plowed through the summit. Entire decks sheared away as the bow was smashed in. Hangars imploded and Fuel tanks ruptured. The number three turret was thrown clear of its mounting and sailed several miles further before landing on a football field.

  Firestorms blossomed inside its hull as structural integrity ceased to be.

  It slammed into downtown, carving a molten trench as its bulk cleaved through skyscrapers before finally hitting the streets below.

  The core hull, still intact, skidded for nearly a mile, flattening streets, subway lines, and infrastructure before finally grinding to a halt in a mountain of twisted steel. Clouds of dust enveloped all of downtown Los Angeles.

  Shockwaves flattened everything within another mile.

  Windows shattered all the way in Pasadena.

  Within the fire storm, Checkmate enveloped her paladin. A dome of radiant force erupted outward. The collapsing tower, the flaming hull, and raging inferno all bent and deflected around him. He was driven through solid matter like a meteor, encased in light, hurled across the city inside a cocoon of angelic energy.

  It was too much too fast for a human mind to process. He felt like he was in freefall for an eternity before finally slamming to a stop against the ground.

  His mind spun like a top, completely disoriented. He should have taken much longer to recover, but Checkmate had no such limitations. As soon as they came to a stop, she was getting him back on his feet.

  The landscape around them was apocalyptic; crushed machinery, shattered buildings and wrecked vehicles were all around them. The sky was beginning to clear. With the destruction of the tower, the strange beacon had stopped. The storm was quickly dissipating. The clouds cleared for the morning sun to shine through. The smoke and dust of battle still choked the air, however.

  They had landed somewhere behind the carrier. Its crumpled hull was almost unrecognizable, but its tall superstructure and masts were still standing. It listed heavily as wreckage settled around it. The aft guns were still in their mounts and the aft flight deck entrance used to recover Screechers was level with the ground. The cavernous maw marked the end of the skidmark that Cry Havoc had left in its wake. One mile of urban sprawl was almost completely flattened.

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Perelli was in awe, but Checkmate was scanning the surroundings, looking for something.

  "Did that kill her?" He asked. "Did that stop the Black Sun?"

  Checkmate's eyes narrowed. "No, but it did stop it from getting worse."

  The rubble nearest to them erupted outwards in a surge of electrified energy.

  Persephone rose from it like a corpse. Her body was charred, her clothes completely burned away. Her flesh was pitted and torn. She was still missing the left arm that Checkmate had cut off, the holy power that had severed it prevented it from reforming. Her body was not healing, but power could still be seen coursing through her veins.

  Her eyes blazed with hate.

  “You are borrowing power,” she snarled. “You cannot sustain it.”

  Checkmate didn't answer. She raised the sword and lunged. The two clashed in an eruption of power once again.

  Cry Havoc's Bridge

  Dangling cables sparked from the overhead. Smoke filled the air. Small fires burned from destroyed consoles. The bridge was a mess. Sky-Captain Kilmer slumped over the controls, her uniform singed. her cap had been thrown off and her hair dangled messily in front of her face. Slowly, she was regaining consciousness. Her hand reflexively began caressing the helm. "Good ship." She whispered. Then, with less conviction, she stood up, careful not to fall on the heavily angled deck.

  "Who's still alive?! Make yourself known!" She called out.

  Dewitt was first to answer, cutting himself free from entangled seatbelts. "Alive. A little worse for wear, as it were, though."

  Camila was next. She was sprawled out on the floor and her left arm was broken. She struggled to move. "Where's the Leader-Commander?" She said, more concerned about him.

  Her eyes fell on him. He was already standing. He looked perfectly fine, standing at the center of the bridge looking out through the broken glass. Camila reached for her pistol only to find it missing.

  "How are you feeling sir?" She asked in a careful tone.

  Tambor took in a deep breath. "Better. I doubt there's anyone who can say a crash landing ever made them feel better." He joked.

  Camila gave a sigh of relief.

  The ground rumbled beneath them.

  "Shit, this place is coming apart. We need to get out of here." Camila said.

  "No, that wasn't my ship." Kilmer pointed out. She moved to an intact console and manipulated the screen. It was fuzzed and laggy but working. She smiled. "Redundancy, motherfucker." She let slip a rare curse. "Power plant's gone, but auxiliary batteries are up. No telling how long they'll last." She began flicking through remote cameras until she found what she was looking for.

  "Fight's still on." She pointed at the screen for them all to see.

  It was the paladin and Persephone. They were all amazed by the sight. The two had not only survived the crash but were still locked in mortal combat. Their blows were like artillery as they slammed against one another.

  "She wasn't this hard to fight the first time." Perelli thought. "We destroyed the beacon, shouldn't she stop healing by now?"

  "She's been cutoff; operating on borrowed time like you." Checkmate told him. "I have sown contingencies. We just have to stall."

  "What kind of contingencies?"

  Checkmate directed his eyes up at the carrier's superstructure. "That one."

  The eyes of the bridge crew were all glued to the screen. They were completely captivated by the fight. Tambor began looking around, not content with standing idly by.

  "Do we have any weapons left?" He asked.

  Kilmer cycled through command GUIs, finding nothing. "All remote stations are offline. Rear turrets are intact, but they have no power. They can't traverse. Aft sensor array is still online. If we can get in contact with air forces we can lase for them. We won't have long on the remaining battery."

  "What air assets do we have available?" Tambor asked urgently.

  Dewitt answered from a comms station. He had a headset pressed to his ear. "Uh, a lot. You're not going to believe this!"

  He pressed a button and radio traffic was piped directly through the bridge speakers. There was a transmission being broadcast repeatedly on VHF.

  "All Terra Vanguard elements, all friendly forces in Greater Los Angeles, this is Commander Combined Pacific Task Group, callsign Tidal Wave broadcasting on emergency and open channels.

  The voice came through clear and concise. No one on the bridge breathed.

  "Be advised: you are no longer operating alone. We have multiple carrier strike groups, surface action groups, and amphibious ready elements entering your battlespace from bearing two-four-zero to three-one-zero. Land element, brigade strength, is approaching from due west."

  "Russian Pacific Fleet, People’s Liberation Navy, JMSDF, ROK Navy, Royal Australian Navy and United States Pacific Command are operating under unified tasking."

  The words landed like thunder.

  "All friendly ground and air units: CHECK FIRE to the west and southwest. Repeat: check fire. Friendly strike packages are inbound. First-wave assets include close air support, SEAD, and heavy ground interdiction. Amphibious and airborne battalions staging for immediate landing at Long Beach, San Pedro, and Redondo sectors.”

  "It's the whole damn Pacific Rim!" Kilmer said, amazed.

  Tambor's heart surged. "Get on the horn. Let them know they need to suppress triple-A in downtown and get a strike package on our posit immediately!" He ordered Dewitt.

  The Commander immediately began relaying the information over open channel. With so many nations with differing doctrines joined together it was the only way.

  Citadel City

  Sky-Admiral Kincade was furious when President Constantine's face appeared on the screen in the command center. The President was still on the Mobile Command Jet. He had a very self satisfied grin and massive cigar hanging from his mouth.

  "What the bloody hell is this?!" Kincade demanded.

  Constantine shrugged coyly. "Reinforcements."

  "They are NOT supposed to be here! This is a Vanguard battlespace. I can't have your men, or anybody else's, sacrificing themselves for us. It's supposed to be the other way around. That's. Why. We. Exist!" Kincade slammed his fist down.

  Constantine frowned at him. "You want us to stand by and do nothing? I will not have it! You are our fathers, grandfathers, ancients. What will the history books say of us, the living, who had to get daddy to bail us out? I will not have it! Your sacrifice and ours will be joined today. Be grateful, this was not easy."

  Kincade could not refute him, he could only stare angrily. Finally, his curiosity overcame him. "How did you manage this?"

  "It was simply really."

  "You just said it wasn't easy?"

  "I know what I said!" Constantine spoke animatedly. "Someone had to set up the logistics to get them here. Russians don't pass up an opportunity for extortion, and that PLA fleet has been disavowed by their government. They didn't like it when you killed most of the CCP. So after this, they become political refugees. Someone also has to foot the gas bill and marine diesel isn't cheap. I also had a hell of a time kicking my forces into gear. Take it easy on the command of that ground element coming in from the west. They're led by a major."

  "Only a major?"

  "Well the generals wouldn't obey my orders, so I starting firing people until I found somebody who would."

  Kincade nodded understanding. "So what brought them here?"

  Constantine paused to look right back at the Sky-Admiral. He removed the cigar from his mouth. "They said something came to them. A glowing figure in iron armor. Wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

  Persephone thrust her remaining claws directly at Perelli's chest. Checkmate blocked with the sword and absorbed the brunt of the attack. Arcs of power rippled off of the both of them as they collided.

  "Not sure how much longer I can hold on." Perelli told Checkmate. Although he wasn't in control, he was at his mental limit. The pain tolerance threshold never came. The agony was combining with fatigue and he could feel checkmate pushing his muscles beyond their physical limits. Soon, his body would shutdown completely.

  "You are strong. Anyone else would have collapsed by now." Checkmate told him. "Not much longer."

  It was cold comfort. Every second felt like hours.

  Checkmate wrenched Persephone away, forcing her onto the ground. The Queen was left wide open. Instead of slashing down at her, Checkmate disengaged. The angel leapt backwards and put a great deal of distance between Perelli and the vampire.

  "We had her, why did you fall back?" Perelli said.

  "She would have caught it. But she can't catch what's coming." Checkmate told him and looked up.

  BRRRRRRRRRRT!!

  A pair A-10 Thunderbolts came in at low altitude. They flew scant feet off the ground, weaving in between buildings. Before Persephone could chase after Checkmate and Perelli, their 30MM cannon rounds slammed the area around her. The A-10s were generous in their application. Depleted Uranium penetrators saturated the vampire.

  "Holy shit!" Perelli exclaimed.

  The wake of their jet wash stirred the dust as they passed close overhead.

  On the bridge everyone cheered.

  Dewitt keyed his mic. “Hammer One-One, Cry Havoc Actual. Good effects on target. Repeat, good effects. Target still emitting thermal. Re-attack authorized. How copy? Over.”

  A burst of static. Then the pilot came back, calm but incredulous.

  “Cry Havoc, Hammer One-One, uh, copy. Still have visual. Copy no joy on neutralization. Turning hot for second pass. Hammer One-Two in trail. Two-zero seconds. Over.”

  Kilmer stared at the screen.

  “She’s… still standing?” she whispered. “After that?”

  Tambor clenched his jaw. “Expected. We keep hitting her.”

  Dewitt transmitted again. “Hammer flight, Cry Havoc. Cleared danger close. Friendlies marked west of impact zone. Laser active, code One-Seven-Five. Hammer her with everything you got. Over.”

  “Copy danger close, One-Seven-Five,” came the reply. “We see your sparkle. Rollin' in.”

  The A-10s came in once again, this time at higher altitude. Forty-millimeter rockets rolled off their wing pods in thick blankets followed closely by antitank missiles. Persephone was consumed by fire.

  The explosions reverberated off of remaining buildings and rolled across the battlefield. Ordnance expended, the A-10s departed.

  Persephone's body was shattered. She lay crumpled against a rock. She should have been atomized, but her body was still in one piece. For all the might of an airstrike thrown at her, it had only served to drain her and chew away at the edges. Her skin was crisp and bloodied. Her limbs were limp and one leg missing. She was no longer healing.

  Checkmate approached her slowly. Persephone looked up at her. The vampire's face was etched with fear. Checkmate's gaze was cold and contemptuous

  "I was wrong." Persephone said lowly. "How could I have been wrong? My death was not supposed to come. It was written by fate." Her eyes narrowed. "What are you? How do you defy fate?"

  "Angels defy fate." Perelli stated what he thought was obvious. He was wrong.

  "Not all of them. Just me." Checkmate told him.

  "What are you?" Persephone said in anguish.

  Perelli frowned internally. "You are deliverance?"

  "Deliverance is the nice way to put it." Checkmate raised the sword. Wrath filled her voice. "I am the angel of death!"

  She brought the sword down in a wide arc, cleaving straight through Persephone's neck. The vampires head came clean off.