Side note: Did I do a good job writing this fight scene from the losing side? It's my first time doing something like that in quite a while.
Not too far away, deep underground, a pod rose toward the surface, carrying a lone soldier. His name was, or at least had been, Anthony Ultmann, and he had been missing from the front lines for about six months. He had long been presumed dead and memorialized, and for all intents and purposes, that assumption held true. Anthony’s eyes glowed a stark red, and the rifle he once carried from border to border hung almost limply from his veiny right hand. Something besides blood pumped beneath the exposed skin that showed through the torn kevlar glove touching the gun. Inside his mind, Anthony continued to fight a losing battle. What was left of him, his memories, dreams, and love all slipping away by inches and miles each day he was held prisoner. He could feel the pod rising toward the surface, and some small part of him wanted to taste the Earth’s cool air again, to feel the sun on his face. Mostly, however, Anthony simply accepted the fact that he had to kill Elijah Menard.
The pod began to crack open, and the cool air washed over Anthony like a wave in the deep. It irritated the holes in his skin just a bit, but he was nonetheless grateful. The mission he had been given seemed simple enough, and he set himself to it. His target was currently being observed by a seedling, which made his job that much easier. Anthony simply followed the silent cries of the seedling through the forest, and found himself at what looked to be a bunker. He hadn’t been briefed on his target, but was aware that the man had been modified somehow, and had protection with him. “This will not be an easy battle,” Lady Talz said to his mind across the distance, “But if you win, you will have your freedom.” He nodded, and she continued, steeling his resolve as he approached the door of the bunker. “Think of it, Anthony. Your body would be yours again. Your wife would know love again. Your son would have a father again.” A small smile snuck across his lips, despite the chemicals exerting a high degree of control over his actions and emotions. “Yes, Lady Talz,” he projected his thoughts, “I will win.” “I should hope so,” she replied curtly, “Else I’ve wasted my precious time and Maximillian’s money enhancing you.”
Anthony leveled his rifle at the door of the bunker and pulled the trigger. Without a thought or impulse from him, the gun tapped into the inhuman power he had been granted. An unusual sound, far louder than a normal gunshot and somewhat akin to a typical cartoon laser gun noise, pierced the air as a torrent of energy erupted from the barrel. The metal door of the bunker melted away as if it had been made of floss sugar, but the beam stopped short of the other side of the dwelling. Unsure of how else to proceed, he loosed another shot, and this one went clean through. The compromised bunker began to shake, but Anthony’s sensors still showed no less than six lifeforms inside, three of them giving him readings he had never been trained on. Instinct raised Anthony’s left hand, and he caught the blade of a damask sword in the midst of a vicious blow. He squeezed for all he was worth, but the sword began to glow with a golden light rather than breaking. Another blade came, accompanied by a high kick to Anthony’s face, and he found himself on his back. He leapt to his feet, then concentrated on his wings. They came, ripping through his fatigues and lifting him into the sky.
The two sword wielders pursued him, as did a woman enveloped by a strange purple energy. His sensors could tell him nothing except that they were exceedingly powerful. He ventured a guess that one of them was his target, and swept a beam from his gun in a wide arc. The thinner sword wielder lacked wings, and could only deflect the blow with his purple blade. Though it failed to penetrate him, he was sent crashing to the ground. The two winged fighters accosted Anthony, and he steeled himself and his rifle against them. Another blast blew them both back a few feet, and the blond man leapt from below to swing his sword again. On the ground, a normal human rained bullets upon him from what seemed to be a normal nine-millimeter pistol. Anthony couldn’t quite reason why the bullets hurt as much as they did, but he knew he had to get clear of them without risking letting his guard down for the three fliers. A nanosecond’s worth of mental calculation showed him the trajectory of the bullets, and he placed his attackers between himself and the stream of fire, forcing the grounded gunner to change his position and give Anthony a brief respite. Two blades bit into his shoulders, and they hardened in protest. A beam of purple energy sank into Anthony’s chest, and his vision started to blur.
Anthony’s sense of pain awakened, and he howled. Something had pulled him back to the surface, put him back in control. His wife and son’s faces flashed before his eyes, and his vigor was renewed. Ignoring the pain, he grabbed the two blades in his shoulders and slung their wielders toward the ground. The red glow in his eyes was gone, but his power was still quite present, and he planned to use it to get himself home in one piece. The purple woman continued to sling beams at him, and he dodged them all by inches as he made his way to her. The two swordsmen, at this point, were coming back toward him, but without their blades. The golden one shot fire at Anthony, and the blond one lodged a spinning kick that knocked him away from his target. He reached a hand out and managed to punch the purple woman hard in the ribs. He saw her purple barrier rupture just a bit, and took his chance. With a flip backwards, he deactivated his wings and took potshots at her in freefall, denting her shields ever more. The skyborne swordsmen pursued him as he went to ground, and he slid just past them as a foot and a fist put a crater where he had just stood.
Anthony changed tactics again, deciding that taking them out as a group would be best. To do that, he would need time to charge the energy cells attached to his gun before firing, and he would need to give the fighters a distraction so that he would have time to stand still. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the gunman, just a few feet away, sinking shots into Anthony’s limbs and torso. He crouched low and made a serpentine pattern toward the gunman, then scooped him up and whirled around to fling him at the purple woman. She stopped her weakened laser assault for a second to catch the gunman just as the two swordsmen descended upon Anthony. He addressed them according to his training, doing his best to predict their moves and catch their limbs to use their own force against them. Their speed and strength, however, was overwhelming.
At the limits of his endurance, Anthony finally spotted an opening in the form of an overzealous pincer attack. Just as the gunman made it safely to the ground, Anthony swept his leg hard, and knocked both melee fighters down. Before the gunman or the purple woman could get a lock on him, he leapt as high into the air as his legs would allow without activating his wings. Taking in the angle of the sun and where best to fly in order to blind his attackers, he basked in the sunlight as his rifle charged and his attackers scrambled to refocus. A beep told him the power cells were full, and he unleashed. An avalanche of energy cascaded from Anthony’s gun, and he smiled. “It’s finally over!”, he screamed in triumph. His celebration was cut short when the beam fell short of its target, stopped in its place by a massive force field. The golden and purple fighters stood in front of the shelter and the other fighters, putting up a shield in tandem. It began to move toward Anthony, and he gathered his mental strength to push back hard. All of his energy went into his gun, and the beam widened, devouring the space around the shelter. Still, the force field held. “No!”, Anthony whimpered, “Not like this!” He pushed harder and harder, but the field still held. His strength finally left him, and a heavy punch sent him to ground. “I’m sorry Yvette, Junior…”, Anthony thought as a golden sword beheaded him and rapid strikes reduced his body to chunks, “Daddy’s not coming home…” “Dammit!”, he heard one of the male fighters yell as his consciousness faded, “Can’t we catch a fucking break?!”
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