For the first time in what was likely a decade, nothing woke Jack but his internal clock. Snorting awake with the confusion of a man who had no idea where he was, Jack lurched upward and looked around the room with eyes crusted half shut. He was in his room, a good sign… Sunlight lazily pressed against the curtains and the snow gathered on the sill while the wind outside whispering alongside it. As Jack tried to squint at the time, Flitter stirred next to him, her sleeping body noting the lack of warmth against her. Rubbing at his cheek, Jack looked down at her, and by extension, himself. They were both still wearing the same clothes as yesterday, stained with the violence that had befallen the auction.

As his brain kicked into gear with surprising speed, Jack recalled what he’d done the night prior after leaving the company of Olivia Voronin and her crew of mercenaries. They’d stumbled into the barracks to find most of the inhabitants either drunk or still partying. Not wanting to cause a scene, they’d headed in for the night. Jack hadn’t seen anybody the night prior he knew by name, so likely nobody had even recognized them as they’d come through.

The desire to curl up behind Flitter stepped upwards into his mind. The idea of snagging an extra hour of comfort was something he hadn’t had the option of in a very long time, not since it had hurt to breathe, lungs agonized by his existing… He felt good, better than good. Hell, after yesterday, he’d earned another hour, hadn’t he? Better yet, Flitter was a wonderful creature to snuggle into. While lacking fur in her disguised form, she was wonderfully warm, and soft for a woman who appeared to be carved from marble. Nobody would notice an extra hour…

Unless it was already passed two in the afternoon. Jack recoiled at the sight of his clock, before lunging forward at it. With wide eyes, he double-checked his omnilink, and confirmed it to be 2:35pm. “Jesus fuck… I haven’t slept in like this since grade school…” Shaking his head, Jack swung his legs off the bed and lifted himself up. An odd pinch welcomed him from his leg joints, earning his ire for a moment as he turned and pulled the blankets back over Flitter. With a yawn, he set off for the bathroom to relieve himself. Shouldering passed the door, Jack left the light off as he saw to his business. As the door clicked closed behind him and he shook, Jack flicked on the light.

“GAH!”

Recoiling from the mirror, Jack nearly fell over himself into the shower stall. His visage mirrored him, including his shocked expression. His whole, shocked expression. Slowly, Jack moved toward the mirror, staring at himself as he pulled lightly at his recently ruined features. His face had returned in full, and looked entirely younger. The bags under his eyes had receded, and his sharp cheeks had ceased to look as if they were about to split his face open. “Sweet Mother Mary n’ Joseph…” His once missing eye sat in its socket, staring back at him. Leaning a little closer, he pulled down his lower eyelid, and stared. The eye seemed organic, but upon closer inspection, he could see strange, subtle little lines where veins intertwined with tech. Stepping back, Jack pulled off the bloody, burned shirt, and began to look himself over fully. Whatever had been in that hypodermic had apparently dialed him back nearly fifteen years, to his prime. He hadn’t looked this good since he’d finished marine bootcamp, and the subsequent advanced camps. His scars were either faded or gone completely, and his abused muscles had fortified, growing slightly and turning hard as forged steel. He could no longer tell where he’d been shot, as his abdomen was now girded with powerful muscles that held no hints to his previously fatal wound. Unable to fight the urge, he flexed, and grinned in excitement as his military grade muscles responded without complaint, without pause, without pain. Turning, he looked over his shoulder at his back. He stared for a long time, at his faded tattoos and clear, unmolested skin. The brand that had tormented him for a year and a half, that had twisted his flesh and reminded him of loss and failure, was gone entirely. Left behind in its place was a circular bald spot where his tattoos had been destroyed by twisting heat. A quick glance to his wrist saw that the magical tattoo still remained. It seemed he couldn’t win them all.

He was lean and mean, without anything paining him, save for his legs… With the giddy glee of a kid on christmas morning, Jack dropped trou to see how he’d changed, and immediately regretted it. While his thighs looked like they were made of braided steel cable, it was where his flesh met metal that disturbed him, and had him regretting ever thinking that things would have changed for the better. Tendon and muscle had grown over the connecting ring and begun to slowly intertwine with the construction of his prosthetic leg, before stopping with no clear reason. Skin hadn’t even begun to cover the exposed muscles, leaving a nearly grotesque sight bordering on insane. He was quick to yank his stiff, blood spattered dress pants back up.

For a long moment he stood there, his repaired brain burning up with thoughts. He needed to do something. Something productive…

Coffee. Coffee was productive.

As he exited the bathroom, he pulled on a clean shirt and started for the door, only to pause. By the door was a fairly large stack of wrapped gifts, something he’d apparently missed last night when he’d stumbled into his room carrying Flitter. With caution over his noise level, Jack sat down cross legged by the pile, and began looking them over. Surely enough, they were for him, though it seemed most were from Flitter, with a few being from Walter and Jessica.

“Huh…” Jack smiled slightly as he murmured, before allowing an open toothed grin to spread across his features when no pain accompanied the first motion. Despite the setback regarding the appearance of his legs, the fact he could smile without agony splitting his features only caused his morale to soar as he quietly tore into the small pile of gifts.

The first two were from Jessica; a box of alcoholic chocolates, and a swimsuit calendar download, titled ‘Legionnaire Ladies, Fighting Women of the 501st’. “Classy as always…” He murmured with an enthused grin as he plugged in the code and started downloading the calendar to his omnilink. For a long moment he considered the box of chocolates, before setting them aside for further consideration.

Next were Walter’s gifts. A download for a series of movies titled ‘Mighty Martyrs’, a chibi martyr keychain hanger that was definitely from his place of work, and a Legion patrol hat that had clearly seen active patrols. With a little grin, Jack set the cap on his head and began his second download, while attaching the hanger to his keyring.

Flitter’s stack of presents made him roll his eyes, she’d clearly overcompensated. He couldn’t exactly blame her, he was a notorious bastard to shop for. Opening the first, he couldn’t help but laugh. A light grey shirt with the the words ‘Purple girls do it better’ sat above a purple cartoon alien girl striking a pose. “Cheeky little…” Smirking over toward the snoring woman on his bed, Jack stripped off his shirt, replacing it with his new one. It seemed a size too small, causing the shirt to hug him tightly and display his restored prime. Opening the next few, his humors only continued to grow. The second of the pile was a titanium carabiner mug, with the words ‘FUCK MAGIC’ custom engraved on it. The next was a small coffee machine, which explained the fourth and fifth wrapped items. Two cans of Tim Hortons fine grind dark roast. With a happy little gasp, Jack hugged the cans to his chest, before setting them down as he got up. Tromping over to the bed, Jack clambered up to Flitter’s sleeping form.

“Flits~ Spaaarkyyy~” He gave her a gentle nudge, which earned a quiet, unhappy groan from her.

“Nrrgh… five more minutes…”

“Daarliiin~” He grinned happily as he leaned forward, firmly planting his lips on hers.

Jerking slightly in groggy surprise, Flitter squirmed as she mumbled against him. “Mmsat? Jackie?” With fluttering eyes, Flitter traced her fingers up his muscular side as he broke the kiss.

“Good mornin.” He smiled softly at her, before leaning in and giving her another strong kiss that stole her breath away.

Groaning softly into the kiss, Flitter began to squirm out of her clothes. When he broke the kiss and pecked her neck, she broke out her own little grin. “I could get used to this, Jack~” Receiving another peck to her lips, she kept her eyes closed as she hiked her dress up under the covers and continued to sleepily squirm out of it. The bed shifted under her as Jack moved around, causing her heart to beat faster and harder in anticipation. With great effort and considerable struggle, she finally slipped free of her clothes and tossed them to the side. Fully expecting him to be upon her, ravishing her bruised body, she found herself mildly confused when he didn’t. Rubbing at her sleep filled eyes, Flitter looked around the room groggily. “Jack?”

The room was empty and dark, the bathroom door open slightly. Jack and his new coffee machine were long gone. Pouting angrily, Flitter flopped backwards into the bed as she ran her fingers through her messed hair. “Fucking tease… bastard...”

With confident strides, Jack treaded down the barracks hall completely oblivious to the unintentional blueballing he’d given Flitter; his new coffee machine cradled in his arms. Despite the late hour, he found the barracks oddly silent, causing him to tread a little quieter in suspicion. Upon entering the commons, he was grateful to hear voices he recognized. As he entered the mess hall, he found several small groups dealing with hangovers. Near the mess line, he spotted Walter and Jessica, accompanied by Taven, Maggie, Roxy, and Kord. As usual, Roxy and Kord were in the midst of an argument, while Walter was all but asleep on the table in nothing but his sweat pants and a pair of flip flops. Jessica lay against him, equally unconscious.

“Mornin.” He called out lightly as he walked by, intent on plugging in his new machine.

“Good morning.” Maggie lightly lifted a hand, greeting without turning her head toward him. Kord quickly mumbled something in french as he rested his head in both hands, clearly hungover and suffering.

“Hey boss.” Taven lifted a hand in weak greeting as he cradled his head with the vain hope of chasing off his migraine, much how Kord was.

“Heya-” Roxy’s spiderform jerked slightly as she paused mid sentence, before tilting slightly, as if she were cocking her head in confusion. As Jack walked behind the mess line and started unboxing his new machine, Roxy stood, and began to slowly cross the table, her sensors locked onto him.

Quirking a brow, Maggie watched silently as Roxy mounted Kord, much to the frenchman’s distaste. “Get off of me! Roxy! Down! Down Slut, down! I am too hungover for your shit!”

Batting at him with her manipulators, Roxy continued her clamber, sensors locked on to Jack as he loaded fresh grinds into the machine. “Shhhshhshhshut the fuck up, Napoleon!” The spiderform hissed in an electric stage whisper as Kord fought to stay upright. Reaching the ground, Roxy began to quietly skitter toward Jack.

Setting her chin in her cupped hands, Maggie smirked ever so slightly as Kord rubbed at his eyes and scowled like a frenchman scorned. “The hell has gotten into her? Maggie?”

Shrugging slightly, the dour woman watched as Roxy began peeking around at Jack.

“You need something?” Jack tilted his head toward the spiderform as the coffee machine percolated quietly. “Coffee will be-” He paused in surprise as Roxy slowly began to back away, starting a low, terrified cry. Without warning, Roxy’s chassis twisted, and she took off as quickly as her spindly legs could carry her. Her terrified noises echoed through the barracks as she ran through the double doors without stopping. All the eyes that had been on her quickly shifted to Jack. “Uhh… right. Okay.” Shaking his head, Jack turned away and checked the pot of coffee. Pouring out three cups, he turned, and sat down at the table with those still partially conscious. “Here, on the house.” Sliding the cups to them, he began to sweeten his own.

“Thanks… what did you say your name was again?” Maggie asked quietly with an edge of trepidation in her voice.

“Merci…” Kord murmured as he took his cup, and immediately began drinking it black. “Do not mind Roxy. She’s fucked. Oh, this is nice coffee. Little weak, but nice.”

“Fucking… Jack, how…” Taven groaned, and Jack could just imagine his ear splayed hard against his skull. “how the fuck did you live like this?”

“Years of training and a level of self loathing your furry ass ain’t capable of.” Jack pushed over a cup of coffee, and gently petted the dying man’s head. “Come on, up and attem, sergeant.”

Staring at him with wide eyes, Maggie took in a slow, steadying breath. “Your name is… Jack, right?”

As Jack looked over toward her, Kord pulled himself away from his drink with a quirked brow. “Seriously Maggie? There’s no way-”

“Sic semper tyrannis, semper fidelis!” Maggie blurted out, her voice trembling.

“Rah!” “Raaah…” The comatose forms of Walter and Jessica immediately responded to the phrase, as if it had been engrained into their minds.

Jack stared, his own words frozen as he slowly realized what was causing the woman to slowly devolve into a panic attack. “You’re...”

“Religious.” Kord answered gravely and deeply annoyed, confirming Jack’s immediate suspicions.

Slowly leaning over the table, Maggie fixed Jack with a wide eyed stare that bordered between intense and terrified. “Eight Pillars, Eight Tenants, Eight Martyrs! Honour above all, Courage beyond reproach, Determination against all odds, Strength amid adversity, Compassion under fire, Focus in all things, Patience amid chaos, Adaptability against obstacles!” By the time she finished and gasped for breath, Jack had forgotten all about his coffee. As he rubbed at the bridge of his nose, Maggie lunged forward and snatched his wrist, earning a lightning fast reaction from Jack as he grabbed her arm in return. “Please…” She begged, her body shivering in anticipation.

Now Taven was awake. Despite the skull splitting hangover, he was up and alert, his eyes flicking between Maggie, Jack, and Kord. “Is everything alright, Jack?”

“Yeah.” He answered, despite not taking his eyes or hand off the woman. “It’s fine. Maggie-” He began softly, before being interrupted by Walter as the big man rolled over, and took the table with him.

“Merde, Walter! You colossal fuck!” Kord yelled in annoyance, while Jessica stumbled about, now lacking her resting place.

“Whuz goin on?” Jessica lurched, and planted both hands on Taven’s back. When Taven went rigid and his eyes crossed, Jack idly figured her for having grabbed onto the particular place where his wings would be. As Jack opened his mouth to try and reign in the situation, Roxy burst through the doors with several dozen people in tow.

“Fuck.” Jack grunted before scowling hard. “So much for a quiet morning.”

“See! There he is! The martyr lives!” Roxy squawked as she flailed her manipulators at Jack from across the mess hall. Those entering stopped in their tracks, hands going to mouths to cover gasps of shock. Murmurs spread through the ranks as more pushed forward to see.

As more and more of the guests pushed in, and those already in turned their attentions to the commotion, the phrase was repeated, louder each time as soldiers slowly surrounded Jack.

The Martyr Lives.

With her hoodie pulled tight against her body to ward off the ever present cold, Flitter trudged through the halls toward the mess. She knew Jack was going to be there, and she’d be twice damned if she wasn't going to chew his ear off for the teasing he’d given her prior. Like a laser guided missile of ear chewing, she continued on her course with her objective solely in her mind, almost causing her to run into Minerva as the larger woman marched in the opposite direction.

“Ma’am!” The sergeant all but yelled, and spun on her heel to match speed with her commander.

“What is it, Minerva?” Flitter fought hard to keep the frustrated edge out of her voice.

“We have a situation. Developing. Right now.” At the clipped, nervous tone Minerva used, Flitter’s frustration was instantly compartmentalised and she gave her sergeant her full attention.

“Talk to me, what’s going on?”

“It’s our Pathfinder, ma’am. They figured out who he is, and they’re working themselves into a frenzy.” Minerva shifted from foot to foot. “I’ll get the others ready, just in case. You need to head this off before it blows up in our faces.”

“Go. I’m on it.” Flitter gave Minerva a singular nod, before setting off for the mess hall with increased urgency. Pushing through the double doors, she found the situation was far worse than she’d anticipated. Nearly the full group of human veterans had filled the mess, with Jack standing at the front, hands on his hips as he spoke. She skidded to a stop, her eyes going wide at the sight. While seeing over a hundred hardened soldiers surrounding Jack was cause for immediate worry, he was smiling ever so slightly, and things didn't look violent. As there was no immediate danger she could see, her still frustrated mind instantly wandered. He was wearing her gift, and it did not fit. He was two hundred and fifty pounds of lean muscle crammed into a size medium t-shirt with a cartoon alien girl on the front. Regret and embarrassment immediately popped into her mind, soon to be compartmentalised just like everything else.

“Captain Falenas.” A gruff, heavy voice spoke next to her, causing Flitter to lift her head slightly and look to the man it belonged to, Irving Kleese. The man’s twirled moustache was decidedly in a frown as he stared at her with a cold grey eye. “It seems you and your pathfinder have some very serious explaining to do.”

“So it seems.” Setting her jaw, Flitter strode forward as her own unit began to trickle in behind Minerva. Jack’s attention immediately stuck to her, allowing her to watch the tension melt off his features. His reaction was more than enough to calm her as well.

“Good to see you, Darlin.” Jack murmured quietly toward her as she took his side.

“What’s the situation?”

“I’ve been turned into Soldier Jesus by a corporation and I can’t hide it without half my face blown off like a cheap Harvey Dent rip-off.”

Swallowing lightly, Flitter laced her fingers behind her back while she faced the growing crowd. “Good or bad?”

“Undecided. Just follow my lead. I can salvage this… probably.” Turning back to the crowd of soldiers, Jack cleared his throat. “Alright, listen up! I’m honestly getting tired of telling this story, so I’m only saying it once!” The quiet conversations and murmurs instantly died. While some seemed critical, skeptical, and downright distrusting toward him, a good many others listened with bated breath and wide eyes.

Sighing softly, Jack lowered his gaze. “My Name is Jack Kessle. Many of you may know me as Martyr Kessle, and may right now be questioning exactly how the fuck I’m standing here, jawing on like some kind of asshole.” Taking in a short breath, Jack continued. “The short answer is; Alien Bullshit.” He pointed into the crowd, and beckoned forward. Heads turned to watch Simoh slowly move to the front. “Because that’s a shitty explanation and the long form is… fucky, I gotta get into semantics.” Jack motioned Simoh to his side, before leaning close. “Disguise Talisman. You gotta trust me on this.”

“Aye aye.” Simoh nodded once to Jack as he handed over the small, jeweled talisman. He braced himself as Jack hit the second chamber, and magic enveloped his body and he was reverted to his original form.

As Simoh stretched out and the smoke cleared, the crowd broke into an uproar; yells of disbelief, curses, and prayers filled the mess hall, creating a deafening din as Simoh whipped his tail back and forth, before preening his wings.

Gesturing to the griffon standing at his side, Jack bellowed over the din. “LADIES AND GENTS, ALIEN BULLSHIT!”

“Jack!” Walter yelled from the crowd, clearly distraught. “You gotta explain this, man!”

“EVERYBODY SHAAADAAAAAP!”Jessica screamed over the shouting, causing the din to slowly peter out to quiet murmurs of discontent.

Nodding to her, Jack pulled out his PDA. “I have video proof, combat recording of Operation Ironguard, taken straight from my HUDCam. What you’ve all been told, what you’ve all seen, for the past eighty years, has been corporate lies. I never made it to the Corvellan bunker system, I never led that charge, I never waved the flag over my head. The being that took me likely destroyed the complex himself to cover up the move. I need a projector, something to plug this into. Walter?”

Jumping to, Walter immediately scrambled to get everything set up while disparaged murmurs spread through the ranks. None too soon, his footage was playing for the gathered mass. They watched quietly as he plodded through ruined Detroit, trading shots with Corvellan guards as he neared the facility. On the precipice, he dove into a ditch to avoid incoming fire, but, on the feed, he didn't stop falling. When the feed cut to garbled rainbow static, cries went up among the crowd, followed by angry yells. Jack remained silent, watching the screen himself as Walter and Jessica quickly took control of the situation. The feed came back online a minute later, and Whitetail Woods met his eyes. Quickly skipping the long period of which he wandered aimlessly, trying to get signal and comms, Jack resumed as he came into contact with the infected, and the soldiers there got their first views of Ponies.

Beside Jack, Flitter watched quietly as she stood before the infected in a vain attempt to save lives. She could see the utter terror frozen into her features. She could remember that fateful day with painful clarity; the conversation she’d had with her sister, then the sudden violence that had led to her life spiralling out of control. All of the awful things that had happened, and… all of the wonderful moments she would never trade for anything. Taking Jack’s hand in hers, Flitter gave him a firm smile as she squeezed his hand. “You got this.”

As he paused the video, just before he fled the ‘demons’ in terror to save face, Jack looked to the crowd, and was immediately barraged by questions. Some he could answer, others, he couldn’t have touched if he’d wanted to. “I was kidnapped by a powerful being who called himself Discord. Kinda sounded like that Q character off of- have any of you- never mind. Anyways, Discord brought me over, alongside several hundred other humans. He pulled them from our world across a timeframe spanning between twenty fifteen and twenty forty. Time in the planet he dragged us to, Equis, moves forty times slower than it does on earth, thanks to some kind of… magic... time dilation. So, technically, while I’m biologically thirty five years old, I’m chronologically one hundred and twenty. Anyways, back on track. As far as I know, the others and myself were brought over to fight a war against the rulers of the land, in anticipation for the literal apocalypse. Discord figured he could stop it by being in control, but he was defeated and most of the humans were returned to earth. I… was incapacitated before the human revolt, and left behind by the exodus due to being in a coma for a little over six months. Since then, I’ve… Served, under Alien leadership.” The crowd went utterly silent, as he’d expected. “And in that time I’ve met some of the bravest, most courageous people I’ve ever known. I’ve served with them, watched them die… I’ve been fighting another war, another war for a species, for a planet’s very survival. While I don’t agree with the leadership sometimes, I… refuse to leave these people to die. The Equestrians, The Griffons, everyone else, they’re… they’re all so close to human it hurts. They’re so close, a platoon of them have hidden from you all without a hitch.”

As Jack gestured to the platoon, and eyes flicked about, he rubbed his now intact face. “I… know this is a lot to take in. A lot to try and wrap your minds around. I know it was a lot for me to handle.”

Shifting in her seat, the normally dour Maggie had him fixed entirely in her gaze. “Why would you hide your identity? You being alive, Martyr, it… it changes everything! Are any of the other martyrs alive?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” Jack answered stiffly as he leaned against the serving line. “Look, I didn’t take on Ironguard, expecting to be turned into a shittier version of Jesus Christ. I didn’t ask for this, but I’ll own it as best I can. I need you all to understand that I’m just another soldier, and that the image I earned after the mission was crafted by a PR team. None of us signed on because we wanted to, myself the very least.”

“Sir, If I may?” Walter spoke groggily, still sitting in his sweatpants. “I don’t care about the crafted image. Only entry level boots think that corp crap is true. But I mean, come on! We live in the information age, we know who you are. There’s documentaries on you all, and a trove of info covering everything you were… And, I for one, think that regardless of that mission’s outcome, you still saved humanity.” Walter looked over his shoulder at the rest of the crowd. “Those among us who subscribe, don’t follow you because Elysian Fields painted you as an action star. We follow the Pillars.”

As if on cue, the pack of ex-soldiers spoke as one, shaking the room with their volume. “Eight Pillars, Eight Tenants, Eight Martyrs! Honour above all, Courage beyond reproach, Determination against all odds, Strength amid adversity, Compassion under fire, Focus in all things, Patience amid chaos, Adaptability against obstacles!”

Thumping his chest, Walter bellowed. “Sic Semper Tyrannis, Semper Fidelis!”

With a shiver running up his spine, Jack clenched his fists at his side as he slowly grew rigid. “Oorah.”

Caught up in the energy that was enveloping the room, others leapt to their feet, stomping boots and shoes and flip flops, each voice adding to the cadence call of “OORAH!”

Jack’s arm shot upwards, snapping a hard salute to those before him. “Sic Semper Tyrannis, Semper Fidelis!”

“I think that solves it!” Kleese called from his place as he moved forward, reaching the front of the ragged formation. “We the broken, lost and unwanted, we reprobates, drunkards, fuckups and nutters, we know our own when we see them! We welcome you back, warrior of man! Pillar of Courage!” Kleese stomped his heavy boots, alongside the crash of the others, just as he snapped a returning salute.

As the salute was lowered, Kleese set his hands on his hips and looked Jack up and down. “You look better today sir, what product do you use?”

“I have no idea. It’s a long story.” Jack answered with a flustered grin.

Responding with a moustache twisted upwards, Kleese simply shook his head. “Alright, you mentioned an impending apocalypse for a whole planet?”

Nodding, Flitter cleared her throat before speaking, thus drawing the attention from Jack to herself. “That’s right, Master Sergeant. The resurgent being known as Jalgromak is threatening to wipe all intelligent life off of our planet. We-”

“Ma’am.” Kleese spoke, interrupting Flitter. “The question isn’t what is happening. The question is, how can the eighty second veterans support group help?”

Unable to keep herself from gaping slightly, Flitter’s eyes flicked across the gathered soldiers, and found only courage and steel before her. “The Joint Special Operations Group, and by extension, Equis, thanks you from the bottoms of our hearts. No matter what contribution you make, know that it saved the lives of thousands. First platoon! ATTEN-SHUN!” Flitter slammed her foot down, and her wings burst forward, saluting while her arms remained laced behind her back. JSOG mirrored her, saluting those who would join them in an impossible fight.

“Oorah.” Jack smiled toward everyone around him. “Let’s get this party started.”

Rasping knuckles on his office door shook Deputy Director Summers from his idle revery as he stared out his window. Taking a moment to straighten himself and push up his glasses, Summers steepled his fingers on his desk as he cleared his throat. “It’s open.”

The door rasped open, and Agent Danners slipped inside his office. For a moment, Summers was taken aback. Danners was normally an incredibly rigid agent, and almost appeared as if she’d been molded for the job. However, today, Agent Danners entered his office with bloodshot eyes, messy hair, and a skewed suit. She took a moment to straighten her pencil skirt, before sitting down without a word. As she sat, she slowly set a thin folder down before Summers.

Slowly quirking a brow, Deputy Director Summers slid the folder across his desk and opened it. Inside, were sparse details on Olivia Voronin’s buyers; the Double Black, and his two ghosts. “I trust you found something useful?” Summers asked quietly as he skimmed the contents. When Danners didn’t answer, he found himself becoming disconcerted. As he continued to read, he began talking, though didn’t expect much response. “So, these Ghosts… Nobody has anything on them? Not even Colony Registrar? Interesting… no biochips, no facial recognition scans, no social media... “ He paused, rereading a section. “The only intel we have is hacked security footage from an Elysian Fields theme park? Are you serious?”

Glancing up at the incredulous look the Deputy Director was giving her, Danners simply gestured at the folder. “Keep reading.”

Fixing his glasses once again, Summers did just that. “Possible connection with a veterans group in New Montana… I don’t like how this looks, Marley-” Summers paused mid sentence as his eyes fell on the next profile in the folder. “No. He… Marley, are you certain of this intel?”

After a long moment, Marley fixed her posture and tucked her hands into her lap. “We got tissue and blood samples from the auction site thanks to ATF CSI. Facial scan match. Iris. Voice pattern. Ninety nine point seven percent accuracy, is what the techs told me.” Marley ran a hand through her hair, sighing softly. “I’m certain.”

“Jesus Christ.” Brad Summers set the folder down with an unceremonious drop, causing a picture of a stone jawed man with black hair in marine dress to slide onto the desktop. “Who else knows? Your partners?”

“Nobody but the lab techs and you.”

Nodding quickly, Summers closed the folder. “Good. Keep it that way, for now. Figure out which veterans group these ghosts are in contact with, and go from there. If you find them, I want to know immediately. I want a satellite on them twenty four-seven, you tell me where, and I’ll make it happen. If these… people, are involved with Voronin, and Blackburn… God knows what’s going to happen…”

“Do you… think it’s really him?” Danners fidgeted in her seat, a motion that was incredibly out of character for the confident and headstrong Agent.

“As in a clone? Hell, maybe. Maybe Blackburn has really gone that insane. If anybody had the tech, it’d be him.”

Sinking deeper into her chair, Danners began resting her cheek in the palm of her hand. “This is going far beyond my paygrade… I do Arms Dealers, not… whatever mess this is.”

“Agent Danners-” Brad sighed softly as he rested some of his weight on his desk. “Marley, I trust you to do the job. Hell, you’re one of the few I can. This can’t leave this office. If this goes how I think it’s going to go, we may have another galactic war on our hands, and we cannot let that happen under our watch.” Sitting back in his chair, Deputy Director Summers finally felt the true weight of the situation squat down on his shoulders. “Get yourself something to eat, and get some rest, Marley.”

Standing and adjusting her pencil skirt, Agent Danners gave her superior a curt nod. “Yes sir. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Turning on the balls of her feet, Marley quickly set out of the large office, her heels clicking away.

Slowly opening the folder open, Summers took another peek at the damning evidence within, before letting the folder fall closed once again as he shook his head. “Fuck sakes Ernest…

Soft morning light filtered through Jack’s window, corresponding with the sounds of the morning birds chirping at each other. The sound of his phone buzzing drew a soft, displeased groan from him as he fought to untangle himself. The phone had begun it’s final ring when he managed to slap it hard enough to accept the call.

“It’s eleven in the morning, Jack.” Hans’ voice sounded from his phone, earning a louder, more displeased groan. “Well, if you’d prefer to sleep, we can always turn the ship full of guns around-”

“I’m up! I’m up…” Flailing free of his covers, Jack snagged his phone as he wiped his eyes. “Fuckin Kraut bastard. What’s your eta?”

“Thirty to forty minutes. Get some coffee, you’re as awful a morning person as ever.”

Grumbling, Jack muttered a mild threat toward his phone, before ending the call and pulling himself out of bed. “Up and attem old man.”

Minutes later, Jack was setting down the hall to the portion of the Barracks JSOG had claimed. By now, most of Kleese’s vets had returned home, but with the revelation of who Jack was, a good few had stayed behind to help, Kleese included. As it turned out, Walter had run out of vacation days, and was forced to return to work the day prior. He’d need to gather JSOG and base leadership for the meet.

Knuckle met door, and the resounding thump was swiftly met by a call from inside. Feet trotted across the floorboards, and soon, Flitter pulled the door open. She’d clearly woken up before Jack, as she was already dressed and refreshed.

“Jack!” She smiled warmly as she relaxed, placing her hands behind her back. “You’re up early.”

Her smile turned out to be infectious, causing Jack to crack a little one in return. “I got a wakeup call. Olivia will be here in under a half hour. Gather the troops, I’ll handle the humans.”

“Oh, sales day? Alright, thanks for the heads up.” Flitter glanced out into the hall, casting her gaze up and down it, before she perked up and peck Jack’s nose. “Trot on, Jack.”

“Well, now I don’t want to hurry.” He smirked, before spinning on his heels and setting off down the hall.

It didn’t take long at all to gather everybody on the airstrip, and as the group stood around chatting idly in the cold morning frost, the hum of a ship soon became apparent on the wind. It wasn’t long before the gunmetal grey hull pushed through the clouds on it’s descent, engines turning the cold air to steam as they passed. The mass conveyor slowed its descent at the last moment, pushing a waft of powdered snow across the airstrip as the ship’s maneuvering repulsors fired and landing gear extended. The ship was big, taking up most of the airstrip as it landed; engines slowly whined as they were shut down, and a bay door opened. The VLI security team were the first down the ramp, scanning the group and their surroundings; their weapons still slung or holstered.

“Area’s clear.” John exclaimed as he turned back toward the ship, and Olivia began descending the ramp.

“Good morning, Jack. Knight Captain Falenas.” The small, pale woman pulled her fur lined parka a little closer. “Lovely weather.”

Stepping forward to greet his arms dealer, Jack offered her a hand. “A little chilly compared to Seattle. Good to see you in one piece.”

Smiling up at him, Olivia nodded as she took his hand. “Likewise. So, I’ve brought the guns. Do you have payment?”

“We do.” Flitter lifted the heavy bag and brought it over, setting it on the ground with an audible clank. “Five thousand gold pieces, and six hundred refined rare gems.”

“That’s JSOG’s lunch money.” Jack said as he opened his own bag, and lifted the massive heart shaped ruby he’d been given as payment. All eyes immediately settled on the huge gem, and multiple breathes drew instantly. “I’m told this was grown by a dragon, to present to somebody he loved.”

“And here you are, selling it for firepower…” Olivia gently reached out to grasp the gem, before finding she had to use both hands. “Vikki, your tools?” The small, fair woman grunted as she passed the gem off to John, who too seemed surprised by the weight.

Sauntering over, Vikki hummed as she lifted a jewelers glass and began scrutinizing it. “It is… real. How did… Who did you steal this from?” She looked to Jack, mischief twinkling in her eyes. “Do they have more?”

“Same place I got all the gold and my old ‘half off’ look.” Jack said with a light smile, before looking to Olivia. “So, are we dealing?” The Gun Runner simply smiled, and gestured with an arm toward the hold of her ship. Nodding once, Jack began to ascend the ramp. “Oorah.”

The inside of the ship was warmer than outside, but that was a fact that was slowly changing as wind blew inside. Jack’s group followed him up the ramp, as Olivia quickly took the lead with her clicking heels. Most of her guards took a perimeter, while a few remained inside, Hans included.

“Normally-” Olivia started before looking over her shoulder at Jack. “I don’t do sample platters. However, you’re certainly a special case. Because of those little favours you did for me in Seattle, I brought some additional pieces. Bulk pieces. With the mention of the world you were returning to, I thought you’d appreciate it if I had some bulk armour, infantry weapons, and power cells on hand.”

Sharing a smile with Flitter, Jack allowed her to speak in his stead as he watched Olivia have several cases opened. “We’re very appreciative. We have some volunteers Earthside who wish to join us, so this works perfectly. What did you bring for us?”

“Nothing fancy, just some last gen Tactical Response Field Armour, Novatech Lasrifles, and Force Recon environmental helmets. The rifles are solid; even for being full laser based, they pack plenty of punch thanks to the hot-shot fusion packs. Rated to punch through tier three personal armours and have a seventy two percent lethality per hit ratio on center mass. Be careful if you’re using them in inclement weather though, the lasers lose a lot of range and punch.”

“How much?” Jack asked as he visualized a full on laser platform. Couldn’t be much different from his old rifle.

“Free, with your platoon sized purchase.” Olivia smiled slyly as she walked them into the hold. “Today, I’ve brought you four separate weapon systems. Lovingly referred to by Tiers, each has its own strengths and weaknesses. The first tier is One, meaning conventional ballistics, Caseless firearms. Available in man portable packages with sizes ranging from five millimeter to twenty millimeter, Tier One is characterized by fire rates in excess of twelve hundred rpm, large magazines, excellent recoil management, and simple, ubiquitous design. Their primary drawback is that they’re the weakest in terms of damage and range.”

Picking up an assault rifle, Jack turned it over in his hands slowly. It was constructed with lightweight alloys and plastic, and housed a large helical bullpup magazine, with said magazine able to hold over a hundred rounds of 10mm caseless. “If we only had the army to deal with, I’d have made up my mind already. Run me through the other tiers.”

“With pleasure.” Olivia smiled again as she strolled across the bay. She clearly enjoyed her job. “Tier two is Magnetic Coil Weaponry.”

“Coil? Not rail?”

“After the war, Humanity had gained a lot of interesting alien tech, some of which being for power cells. With power packs no longer an issue, Coil was discovered to have a number of noticeable applications over a standard rail. Less materials required, better projectile trajectory, that sort of thing. They are the second most powerful weapons group, and boast impressive penetration statistics, but their recoil is difficult to manage, and their magazine sizes are small.”

“Interesting…” Jack turned a pistol over in his hands, eyeing the heavy piece.

As he did, Flitter stepped up behind him. “That’s the weapon that took my old arm off…”

“It’d be good for progeny, but not much else… low mag size has a lot of implications.” Setting down the pistol, Jack nodded to Olivia, who continued on.

“Third Tier is one you will be more familiar with, Mr. Kessle. Lasers. These ones are top of the line, the sort that Black Watch, and Saeder Krupp use for their special forces squads. Zero recoil, eighty percent lethality per hit ratio for center mass, cuts through armour like butter. They’ve fairly large magazines, but their range leaves something to be desired. As they are lasers, any smoke or inclement weather will reduce their effectiveness.”

“Pass. It’s going to be ugly down there, we can’t afford that drop in effectiveness. Besides, Progeny need knockdown power.”

“Hm.” Olivia paused to ponder his words. “I had a feeling you’d have an interest in Tier Four.” Stepping over to the final show piece, she lifted a weapon Jack’s guts were intimately familiar with. “Tier Four, Powered Metallic Plasma Projection System, lovingly referred to as Power Guns by the public. Uses contained cold fusion cells projecting electrons at a specific wavelength to excite copper and cobalt atoms contained in a disk shaped matrix. The atoms are excited, and forced down a modified compression coil chamber, focusing them into a shaped plasma projectile. Average muzzle velocity of one thousand five hundred meters per second, and no projectile drop. These are what you would consider to be ‘line of sight’ weapons. If you can see it, you can ruin its day.”

Ambling over, Jack began looking over the specs of the system. “Draw backs?”

“I’m glad you asked.” The woman smiled up at him. “The projectile has close to no weight in of itself, so the only penetrative properties it has is the immense amounts of energy it contains. The large disk sizes, specifically twenty centimeter, can slag modern battle tanks in one or two shots. However, the moment that projectile impacts, it disperses its energy in a blast. Consecutive shots make short work of any armour, but technically, the weapon has zero penetrative values. If you were to use it in dense foliage, you would be at a serious disadvantage. Besides that, it boasts a ninety eight percent lethality per hit ratio on center mass, and very, very light ammo. Something to take into consideration is that weapons meant for slower firing will jam up if you fire them too quickly. The liquid nitrogen injection system tends to struggle with matrix gunk build up.”

“We’re expecting rough conditions, how does it handle?” Jack slowly turned the compact rifle over in his hands. Under the honestly beefy barrel was a cylinder roughly the size of a pringles can. Releasing the magazine saw that it was empty, but apparently the magazine was designed to contain sixty five rounds.

“The system is very robust, jostling it won’t disrupt the internals, and the entire system is sealed, save for the gunk ejection port. The casing is make of a certanium alloy, so it can handle whatever you throw at it. In the event the case is ruptured and the system compromised, I would suggest a swift disposal of the weapon, as sometimes the liquid nitrogen system can leak at high pressures, and those wounds aren’t pretty, or pleasant. There are some recorded cases where power weapon shots can cause chain reactions in the normally unreactive ammunition as well, but I don’t think you’ll be having that issue in this case.”

“Noted…” Jack continued to look over the weapon, checking its ergonomics.

Stepping up, Flitter’s eyes went to the containers. “What weapon types did you bring for four?”

“The standard ammunition types are one centimeter, two centimeter, ten, and twenty. I’ve brought an excess of two centimeter rifles, a collection of one centimeter smgs, shotguns with modified compression chamber barrels, squad automatics of the one and two centimeter families, AT weapons in ten and twenty, and AMS mountings. I also have a large selection of drones, of you’re interested.”

Smiling a little, Flitter nodded. “I am interested. Aurora?” Flitter looked over at the entourage as the small woman perked her head up. “Over here, this is your speciality.”

As Aurora joined the pair, and Hans took over answering Jack’s questions, Olivia led the two women over to her selection of drones. “I have a large selection, but I’ve only brought the best today. Here-”

“Oh!” Aurora chirped as she moved in. “I passed a course online in operating these!”

Staring at the mare in disguise, Flitter managed a weak smile to her salesperson. “I’m sorry. Continue?”

“Right. I’ve brought three separate drone platforms for you to look over, each with their own set roles. The first is the Osprey, a lightly armoured vtol drone. Well suited for recon and harassment, they can be fitted with standard issue smgs and rifles.” The drone was a slim looking creation, sporting a pair of curled wings and a powerful set of thrusters. “You can easily slave a drone to a single operator, and have it follow standard bodyguard procedures. It contains top of the line programming in regards to missile evasion and pre set orders. Our second piece, is the Calliope.” The drone was roughly the size of a big dog, but sported six metallic spider legs, and a big domed head that sat in the center. “The Calliope comes equipped standard with twin five barreled one centimeter power guns and alpha class tracking software.”

Before Olivia could continue, Aurora took over. “Usually they’re slaved to an orbital overseer, but these drones cam shoot down incoming artillery, rockets, and planes!”

“Yes, exactly.” Olivia cleared her throat. “It seems you know your drones, Miss.”

“Well I mean, they gave me an open internet connection, and told me ‘learn all the things!’ so I kinda had to. Did you know there’s a site called ‘Wikipedia’? It has sooo much information, you can learn everything from it!”

Smiling slightly, Olivia nodded in agreement. “Anyways, the Calliope is a must if you anticipate running into those sorts of threats-”

“How many do you have?” Flitter asked as she looked over the drones, collapsed for storage and shipment.

“Of the Calliope system? Ten.”

“We’ll take all of them. What’s the third system?”

Humming slightly, Olivia simply nodded and walked a few more paces to remove a tarp. Flitter found herself pausing at the sight. The drone was large, almost as large as a car, or a carriage. It sported large, fat tracks, and a lifted chassis that could clear rough terrain. “This, is the Ogre. Heavy Ground Support and Area Denial. Comes standard with two machine gun mounts, one top mounted, and the other coaxial, and anti-vehicle cannon mount. This is, of course, in addition to chaff, smoke launchers, and anti-personnel deterrents. It can be modified to have heavy armoured skirts, to provide additional protection to an accompanying squad. It can also carry large amounts of supplies, and house communications systems, a drone hub relay, and an EWAR suite. The all in one squad support drone.” Olivia smiled as she patted the hefty plating on the drone.

Nodding slowly, Flitter began looking over the drone. “What sort of armour?”

“Fifty millimeters of layered ceramic microlattice, with a iridium-titanium alloy lattice fill.” From the slightly stunned look she received at the statement, Olivia sighed. “Equivalent to two thousand millimeters of RHA vs high explosive penetration, and twelve hundred against APFSDS. In other words, extremely resistant for it’s weight class. Sustained fire will damage and destroy it, but it’ll require considerable effort on your enemies part.”

“How many did you bring?”

“Three.”

Flitter nodded once. “We’ll take them. Same with the aerial drones.”

“Alright.” Olivia smiled brightly. “Honestly I wish all of my sales went this well. Now, let’s- Oh, Jack. Made up your mind?” Olivia looked to Jack as he approached.

With a small smile, Jack nodded. “Yeah. We’ll take the tier four primaries, but I want tier two secondaries in there as well for sidearms. Hans showed me your explosives, we’ll be taking the C6 explosives, Micro-Rockets, Limpet Launchers, and the MANPADS. I also noticed you had a uh… power cannon.”

“Yes, the twenty centimeter. What about it?”

“Do you think it could be mounted on a Leopard 4B3?” Jack rocked on the balls of his feet as Olivia tilted her head and stared at him.

“I… I erm… Yes, yes I think… it could… Where did you ever get your hands on a relic like that?” She asked as she rubbed at her jawline, hesitation clear in her confident voice.

“I have my ways. If you could send in a feed system and any conversion kits, that’d be great.”

“Done and done.” Olivia smiled once again. “Now, on to the fun portion of our sale. Your armour.” As Flitter and Jack shared looks, Olivia began to stroll deeper into the bowels of her ship. “Since you saved my life, and saved my employees from an embarrassing arrest, I decided to go the extra kilometer.” Pulling free a tarp, Olivia revealed row after row of impressive, large power armour suits, all painted a matching matte black and grey. They sported compact, angular helmets; overall, the suits just bled aggression, like manifestations of thousands of years in armour technology. “Terran Expeditionary Army Force Recon power armours. I’ve brought three separate models, considering your unique… composition. At their core, the suits sport a frame made with a Titanium alloy core, coated in Magnalium, making their core frame tough and light. Powered with a bank of micro-cold fusion reactors, the suits are rated for forty years of active service before requiring a powerplant replacement. Unlike old power armours which used hydraulics as their primary means for movement and surgical implants for guidance, the new armours rely entirely upon impulse muscle fibres and an accompanying linkage suit. With only a single nanosecond of input lag, it’s like wearing a second skin, I’m told. Armour plates are modular and easily replaced in the event of damage, and provide total body coverage. The plates themselves are roughly twenty millimeters thick on average, and comprised of the same materials the Ogre’s armour is, making you incredibly tough. Even a power gun would require a few strikes to cause any internal damage.” Olivia took a moment to catch her breath, and allowed her buyers to look over the intimidating armours. “The armours themselves are fully sealed, and can be modified with a micro-thruster bank for zero gravity operations. Your helmet contains a slaved virtual intelligence that monitors everything from hostile positions, armour statistics, communications, to your own vitals. Even without a primary hub, a squad can share tactical data instantly and maintain clear comms at excess of two hundred kilometers.”

Glancing over at Jack, Flitter got his attention with a slight tap on the shoulder. “What do you think?”

Slowly allowing his eyes to be pulled from the new suits. “They’re lithe. Light. My old armour was like wearing a tank. Took months to train with the exo alone, then with the added weight. Input lag of half a second, but you learned to anticipate and move before you actually needed to. These… Christ, one on one, they’d peel my old armour apart without breaking a sweat, and my suit was bleeding edge.”

“Eighty years ago, old man.” Hans reminded him, and earned a mild grin in return.

“So.” Flitter spoke to Olivia. “You mentioned you had three models? What’s the difference?”

Smiling in Return, Olivia looked back to the armours. “I’m glad you asked.” Walking over to the left of the armours, she motioned to one that seemed a bit more lithe than the others. “This is the Icarus armour variant. It sacrifices armour for higher maneuverability, and sustained flight micro-repulsors. The standard field suit comes with jump jets, but the sustained flight module allows for exactly that. Comes standard with two light shoulder mounts for launchers and the like.”

Having listened to the sales pitch, Flitter slowly looked over at Jack, no longer able to hide her smile. “You hear that Jack? Flying armour. We get to fly again.”

“You mean you get to fly again. I’ve always been more of a ‘Falling with Style’ kind of guy. I’ve sure Taven will be ecstatic, though.” Jack smiled at the thought. “Buy as many as you need for our natural fliers. They’ve trained for that kind of combat already, may as well put it to use. What else have you got for us, Olivia?”

“Hmm~ I always enjoy seeing happy customers. The second is the bog standard infantry armour, with some small modifications. Titled Medusa, all of the modifications are inside the helmet and chest, but they’re worth it. Improved VI capabilities, improved spatial awareness chits, command and control modules for extended drone use, and miniature TacNet plugs. Normally this model would be reserved for Noncoms, but I’ve brought enough for your needs. The third model, is the Zeus.” Gesturing to the bulkier suit, Olivia began her sales pitch. “The Zeus is built around overwhelming force focused to surgical precision. Sporting thirty millimeters of armour and oversized impulse fibre muscles, the Zeus outweighs the Medusa by almost a hundred kilos, while still maintaining tactical jump capabilities. Soldiers in the field have used it for ‘death from above’ style of attacks, with a high success rate. I’ve seen a predilection toward use of combat shields or heavy weapons with these styles of suits, but generally they’re well suited for assault and point positions.”

As Jack looked over the large Zeus suit, he couldn’t help but feel ever so slightly unenamored by it. “Better than Kevlar and a prayer. What’s the composition of the helmets? You mentioned a Iridium-Titanium alloy?”

“The helmets? Same as the armour itself, but generally five or so millimeters thinner to compensate for weight and to avoid stressing the neck’s impulse fibers, in addition to leaving room for the onboard electronics. As for the armour itself, the Iridium-titanium alloy forms the exterior of the wafer, while the interior is filled with a ceramic-titanium hybrid alloy, which absorbs and dissipates heat faster than standard titanium. Each wafer is like a honeycomb comprised of those materials. Each honeycomb is micrometers thick and layered unevenly over each other, resulting in a very dense armour that lasts longer, does more, and is highly space efficient. On top of that, for every ten millimeters of armour, you’ll have an additional millimeter of kinetic impact gel, further reducing the effectiveness of incoming fire. Keep in mind, this is all over the Impulse fiber muscles, which are, in essence, carbon-fiber kevlar nanotubes which are energized and made into augmented muscle stand ins. I've heard rumors of a new method that allows for nanometer honeycomb wafers, which would almost double the armour’s effectiveness for only a price tag trade off. However, pulling that sort of thing off would require the power of a sun, so don’t expect to see it on the market for another ten years.” Olivia smirked ever so slightly toward her buyers, though it fell away when she saw them paying more attention to each other than her.

Idly running a finger across the breastplate of a Medusa, Flitter glanced to Jack. “Thoughts?”

There was a long pause as Jack ran his eyes over the black suits and their angular helmets. They were the wet dream of any soldier in the field, and a pipe dream to the R&D team Jack had been the test bed for, back eighty years prior. “It’s exactly what we need; extreme mobility with unsurpassed survivability. The titanium in the mix should add extra protection, and hopefully an immunity to Order’s abilities, but there’s the chance it may not do anything, if it needs to be pure.”

Nodding slowly, Flitter slowly turned over the billion dollar price tag. “We can test it, but as it sits, it’s our best option. Now, what kind do you want?” A coy little smile spread across Flitter’s features as she gave him a sidelong glance.

Again, Jack left a long pause between her question and his answer, but this time, it was surprising. “None. I think I’ll try and pull some repairs on my old suit, use the new materials.”

“What?” Olivia cut in as Flitter turned to regard Jack with confusion. “Why? That’s suit’s a relic, not to mention it’s been all but ruined. You’re better off selling it to a museum than trying to make it something it’s not.”

With a sigh, Jack nodded. “I know you’re right, but there’s more problems to it than just preference. My training, is eighty years old. All my bad habits and counters to the old suit are hardwired into me. It’ll take longer to break those habits than it will to train newbies, and that’s time we don’t have. I’d rather slog in a relic than trip over my own two feet in new stuff.”

Clucking her tongue softly, Olivia tried to disguise her disappointment. “Okay. Every suit comes with a year’s worth of spare parts for high wear parts, but if you plan on pulling anything apart, I’d suggest getting a few spare suits.”

“Of course.” Flitter smiled and nodded. “Did you have somebody who could train us in the use? We-”

“I’m way ahead of you.” Olivia’s smile returned, now smug. “I realized that your group would rather live off the grid, so instead of compiling a list of trainers I trust, I’ve included a Augmented Reality Space trainer. Simply feed situations into the computer, and it’ll spit out a holographic training area. I’ve included a holo-instructor for armour and weaponry. Only ten million~”

Ignoring the shrewdness of her salesman attitude, Jack pressed on to a different tangent. “What else have you brought along?”

“Hm.” Olivia sniffed mildly. “Nothing of note, besides a container of munitions. Frag grenades, shredders, strumm, those sorts.”

Nodding once, Jack cast a long gaze across the collection weapons of war. “Flitter can help you crunch the numbers, but whatever ammunition you planned on selling us, double or triple it. Half a million rounds of each type at minimum, not a single round less. If you have more, we’ll take it all.”

“It’ll cost you...”

“We’ve already paid in full. I’m just asking you don’t screw us, or misunderstand.”

Tensing up ever so slightly, Olivia nodded slowly. “Of course.”

“Thank you.” Jack murmured quietly, before turning his back on the pair and marching out. As he walked, he motioned to Kleese, who pulled himself away from the weapon system he was inspecting.

Walking out out of the ship, Kleese waited until Jack stopped walking to ask his questions. By then, they’d already neared the barracks. “Is something wrong, sir?”

“Yeah.” Jack spoke softly, with a long, drawn out voice. “It won’t be enough.”

“Sir?” Kleese circled around to stand before Jack. “I’m not sure I understand. That’s all cutting edge tech, even better than what I used when I was in the service. How is it not enough?”

Leaning against a wall, Jack let out a long sigh as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “There’s forty members in JSOG. Maybe fifty or so volunteers, and I wouldn’t judge anybody if that number got cut in half. Sub Company, at best. When we left that world, there were two million brainwashed hostiles charging down on the capital, with air support, and more on the way. We can’t scare them. Can’t break them. They don’t have morale, because they don’t need it. This isn’t even counting their Progeny support, which is of a completely unknown number. Even if those suits put JSOG up in terms of power, it won’t be enough. We need... “ Jack’s shoulder sank as he slowly convinced himself of the reality. “We need more. So much more.”

Allowing the words to sink in, Kleese brought up a hand so he could rest his chin within it as he thought. “You raise a good point… Have you considered… WMD’s?”

“Chemical, nuclear, yeah… Problem is, Voronin doesn’t deal in them and I can’t blame her for it. Those suits and guns give JSOG hope, but we need something-” Jack paused for a moment, before continuing. “Something bigger. Kleese?”

“Yes sir?”

Jack turned his full attention to the other man. “You and your volunteers take care of JSOG. You teach them every single dirty little trick you know. You don’t pull any punches, and you give them everything you’ve got.”

Nodding slowly, Kleese tilted his head ever so slightly as he eyed Jack. “That was the plan. Something has come to mind, what is it?”

“Just a personal realization. I’ve got a call to make. Can you… get out there and help Flitter?”

“Yes.” Kleese nodded. “I’ll do everything I can, but something tells me she’ll be bitter about your replacement.”

“Yeah…” Jack nodded as he lifted off the wall. “Thank you, Irving. You’re giving them more than I could ever hope, or ask for.”

Saluting, Kleese turned on his heels, and headed for the door. As he reached for the knob, he paused, and glanced over his shoulder. “That may be so, Martyr, but I’ll never outdo you. If you walk out, I doubt they’d ever recover.”

“I’m not walking out. They’ve got their mission, and I’ve got mine. I just… need to go down a different path. One I can’t take them down.” Jack’s eyes fell to the floorboards as he answered, but he earned a silent nod from Kleese in response. Without another word spent between the two, they parted ways, with Jack heading for his room, and Kleese returning to the group.

Gently closing the door to his room, Jack unlocked his omnilink, and fed in the number he’d been give. The line began to connect and ring as he sat down on the edge of his bed, and ran a hand through his thick hairline.

“Jack, I’m surprised you called me so soon.” The smooth voice on the other side greeted him, and Jack swiftly realized that the other man already knew exactly what he was calling for.

“Blackburn.” Jack swallowed heavily as he focused his mind to the words he needed to form. “I’m in.”

Author's Notes:

6 months later, after 2 months of school, 3 rewrites, and amid writers block and other BS going down, you all finally get the chapter you've been waiting ever so patiently for! And guess what? Nothing really happened.

Honestly, I'm tired. I want to finish Ballad and move on to other projects; I've already begun a couple smaller things, which were to help me beat my writers block. As some of you may know, I'm not a fan of MLP any more. I don't read the fanfics, I don't watch the show, and I don't talk about it any more. That being said though, I do want to finish Ballad, properly. The trick is just getting there.

So, thank you all for having patience for Ballad and my slow writing; the chapters to come will have more action and drama within them.

Let's just hope they don't take this fucking long, eh?