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Gods for the Machines 50: Irregulars: Blythe
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Chapter 50: The Irregulars: Blythe
Blythe wanted to shoot something.
He wanted to shoot everything
Most of all he wanted to shoot the damn chair he was sitting in. It didn’t matter much how ‘temporary’ the doctor assured him his time in a wheelchair would be, or how bloody ‘serious’ they keep telling him that stomach wounds were. He was ready to blast his way into hell itself, literally, after what had happened. But today he was a ‘commanding officer’ which meant he got to sit at a desk and read papers and talk, and talk, and talk.
Blythe had survived his encounter with a raging cybernetic dinosaur monster strong enough to throw a car AFTER being rammed through a brick wall. His partner though hadn’t, which was bad enough, but worse the monster, no, DEMON, had escaped.
‘That is inexcusable’
It needed to die. The fucker had to go down. If the damn fed had managed to actually run the fucker through.
He took a deep breath and a swig from his glass. That wasn’t fair and he knew it. Nyx hadn’t been prepared for that anymore than he had been, heck she had lost a leg mere weeks earlier, it was a small miracle she was standing at all, magic prosthetic or no.
‘You failed too’
He shook the imagined words of his dead partner away. The man may have been a dick, but he wouldn’t be blaming Blythe for this. He knew the realities and that you can’t always get your guy. That was just Blythe blaming himself for what happened.
A part of him also knew that this was probably for the best. He had a family after all and if he had been able bodied he might have already gotten himself killed going after revenge and abandoning his wife in the process. So, he forced himself to calm down and look over his reports.
Blythe was the new commanding officer of a completely impromptu research/commando team that the powers that be had made up essentially on the spot and colloquially named “The Irregulars”. They were headquartered in the engineering college of the Valborg University. A strange place, but then again, all classes had been temporarily suspended; campus was closed to all students who didn’t live on site, and they mostly spend their time in the library lounges or restaurants, not the academic buildings. The engineering building also had the tools needed for the ‘research’ part of the team description.
The full team was actually quite large, a full suite of doctors, cops and even soldiers leant from the army base were all technically under the umbrella of the ‘irregulars’. However most on the team only thought of a select few as the actual ‘irregulars’.
Blythe shuffled to the first page of his reports. Atasi Demetria, the local machines savant, military VIP and known high value target, not to mention lead researcher for no less than two brand new university departments. Both departments were equally as ass pulled as ‘the irregulars’ themselves were, but the powers that be in the cops, the army AND the school seemed to be taking their new ‘Cybernetics’ and ‘Thaumaturgy’ departments seriously.
Well, they were taking the cybernetics department seriously at least. Enough people accepted the truth of the hell spawn infecting their city for the second department to come into being, but enough still questioned it to complicate discussions on the matter. In any event the departments’ new director was running herself ragged. Blythe made a mental note to talk to her, or just spike her drink with sleeping pills if he had to.
He flipped the page to the next section. Skyler Graves, one of the few members of this little team that Blythe had no real problems with. The boy could follow orders, was decently trained, knew how to shoot and knew a thing or two about explosives. On an objective level there was very little ‘irregular’ about the lapine young man other than his incidental involvement in Nyx getting her sword, and in the temporary defeat of a demon general via targeted car crash
That said Blythe could say similar about himself. This job was mostly given to him because he was high ranking enough to be qualified for it, too injured to be in the field, and hellbent on doing SOMETHING. Oh, and he had fought the demon that they now knew as ‘Lazarus’, albeit ineffectively.
Blythe thumbed through the pictures they had gotten from their cruiser’s cameras as well as local security cams on what the creature looked like while musing on it and the strange intelligence that had been coming in about it. For the last few days Atasi’s phone had been getting text messages from random or even out of service numbers, all only a few words at a time and not always making sense, some were even corrupted garbage. But there were, some, coherent ones:
“ajebjasamage sustainnnneessss”
“Callzzzzzzzzzzzz himself Lazarus”
“Must hide, hide, hide, hyde, hide, hyde, hyde, hide”
“Losing control”
“More than one, more more coming more than one”
They weren’t sure how these messages were being created, any attempt at tracing had dead ended at the cell towers themselves, nor did they know who was sending them to Atasi or why, but it seemed at times to be about the demons, some might even be valid information. At the very least they had gotten a name for the robot dinosaur and the texts were interesting enough as an intelligence source that the phone had been rigged to auto archive received texts to their personal servers for analysis, and Atasi had been given a new phone.
He flipped back to his reports. Alethea Demetria, Atasi’s sister. Pleasant enough girl when she had pants on, something that judging from how she had attached herself to Skyler, his one NORMAL direct subordinate, was something she preferred to NOT be true. Mostly Blythe was just fine if she stayed out of people’s hair. She didn’t have any real relevant skills and was in the ‘irregulars’ by virtue of being Atasi’s sister, and therefor a likely backup target for the demons.
He turned the page. Last but certainly not least, Valborg city’s new feline reaper, Cybele Nyx herself. Nyx had gotten Way WAY more useful with that magic sword of hers of late and was mostly in charge of the ‘commando’ part of their job description. She cleared out known infested buildings and occasionally brought ‘subjects’ back for Atasi’s ‘cure’ experiments.
He was more than sure that the city would be in a far worse state without her running the gauntlet on the daily to clear out the demon possessed wretches. His only real complaint was that she hadn’t found Lazarus yet, nor quite what was meant by ‘more than one’ and ‘losing control’. Or most of the other messages. If anything the demons had gotten more brazen in grabbing the unlucky caught outside alone, or even inside with push in kidnapping raids dragging people off from their own homes.
Blythe shook his head. They assumed the point of kidnapping Atasi was to get her to make more cyberware that they could use to puppet people, but if they were really running out, why continue to grab more poor sods? At least the demon’s new hobby of digging extra tunnels between sewer lines could be explained as adding movement routes for them.
“Fuck” Blythe leaned back rubbing his temples. How could one job be so simultaneously stressful AND boring?
Paypal:https://www.paypal.me/AMKibbe
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My Books for sale on LULU:
http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/amk1954
Chapter 50: The Irregulars: Blythe
Blythe wanted to shoot something.
He wanted to shoot everything
Most of all he wanted to shoot the damn chair he was sitting in. It didn’t matter much how ‘temporary’ the doctor assured him his time in a wheelchair would be, or how bloody ‘serious’ they keep telling him that stomach wounds were. He was ready to blast his way into hell itself, literally, after what had happened. But today he was a ‘commanding officer’ which meant he got to sit at a desk and read papers and talk, and talk, and talk.
Blythe had survived his encounter with a raging cybernetic dinosaur monster strong enough to throw a car AFTER being rammed through a brick wall. His partner though hadn’t, which was bad enough, but worse the monster, no, DEMON, had escaped.
‘That is inexcusable’
It needed to die. The fucker had to go down. If the damn fed had managed to actually run the fucker through.
He took a deep breath and a swig from his glass. That wasn’t fair and he knew it. Nyx hadn’t been prepared for that anymore than he had been, heck she had lost a leg mere weeks earlier, it was a small miracle she was standing at all, magic prosthetic or no.
‘You failed too’
He shook the imagined words of his dead partner away. The man may have been a dick, but he wouldn’t be blaming Blythe for this. He knew the realities and that you can’t always get your guy. That was just Blythe blaming himself for what happened.
A part of him also knew that this was probably for the best. He had a family after all and if he had been able bodied he might have already gotten himself killed going after revenge and abandoning his wife in the process. So, he forced himself to calm down and look over his reports.
Blythe was the new commanding officer of a completely impromptu research/commando team that the powers that be had made up essentially on the spot and colloquially named “The Irregulars”. They were headquartered in the engineering college of the Valborg University. A strange place, but then again, all classes had been temporarily suspended; campus was closed to all students who didn’t live on site, and they mostly spend their time in the library lounges or restaurants, not the academic buildings. The engineering building also had the tools needed for the ‘research’ part of the team description.
The full team was actually quite large, a full suite of doctors, cops and even soldiers leant from the army base were all technically under the umbrella of the ‘irregulars’. However most on the team only thought of a select few as the actual ‘irregulars’.
Blythe shuffled to the first page of his reports. Atasi Demetria, the local machines savant, military VIP and known high value target, not to mention lead researcher for no less than two brand new university departments. Both departments were equally as ass pulled as ‘the irregulars’ themselves were, but the powers that be in the cops, the army AND the school seemed to be taking their new ‘Cybernetics’ and ‘Thaumaturgy’ departments seriously.
Well, they were taking the cybernetics department seriously at least. Enough people accepted the truth of the hell spawn infecting their city for the second department to come into being, but enough still questioned it to complicate discussions on the matter. In any event the departments’ new director was running herself ragged. Blythe made a mental note to talk to her, or just spike her drink with sleeping pills if he had to.
He flipped the page to the next section. Skyler Graves, one of the few members of this little team that Blythe had no real problems with. The boy could follow orders, was decently trained, knew how to shoot and knew a thing or two about explosives. On an objective level there was very little ‘irregular’ about the lapine young man other than his incidental involvement in Nyx getting her sword, and in the temporary defeat of a demon general via targeted car crash
That said Blythe could say similar about himself. This job was mostly given to him because he was high ranking enough to be qualified for it, too injured to be in the field, and hellbent on doing SOMETHING. Oh, and he had fought the demon that they now knew as ‘Lazarus’, albeit ineffectively.
Blythe thumbed through the pictures they had gotten from their cruiser’s cameras as well as local security cams on what the creature looked like while musing on it and the strange intelligence that had been coming in about it. For the last few days Atasi’s phone had been getting text messages from random or even out of service numbers, all only a few words at a time and not always making sense, some were even corrupted garbage. But there were, some, coherent ones:
“ajebjasamage sustainnnneessss”
“Callzzzzzzzzzzzz himself Lazarus”
“Must hide, hide, hide, hyde, hide, hyde, hyde, hide”
“Losing control”
“More than one, more more coming more than one”
They weren’t sure how these messages were being created, any attempt at tracing had dead ended at the cell towers themselves, nor did they know who was sending them to Atasi or why, but it seemed at times to be about the demons, some might even be valid information. At the very least they had gotten a name for the robot dinosaur and the texts were interesting enough as an intelligence source that the phone had been rigged to auto archive received texts to their personal servers for analysis, and Atasi had been given a new phone.
He flipped back to his reports. Alethea Demetria, Atasi’s sister. Pleasant enough girl when she had pants on, something that judging from how she had attached herself to Skyler, his one NORMAL direct subordinate, was something she preferred to NOT be true. Mostly Blythe was just fine if she stayed out of people’s hair. She didn’t have any real relevant skills and was in the ‘irregulars’ by virtue of being Atasi’s sister, and therefor a likely backup target for the demons.
He turned the page. Last but certainly not least, Valborg city’s new feline reaper, Cybele Nyx herself. Nyx had gotten Way WAY more useful with that magic sword of hers of late and was mostly in charge of the ‘commando’ part of their job description. She cleared out known infested buildings and occasionally brought ‘subjects’ back for Atasi’s ‘cure’ experiments.
He was more than sure that the city would be in a far worse state without her running the gauntlet on the daily to clear out the demon possessed wretches. His only real complaint was that she hadn’t found Lazarus yet, nor quite what was meant by ‘more than one’ and ‘losing control’. Or most of the other messages. If anything the demons had gotten more brazen in grabbing the unlucky caught outside alone, or even inside with push in kidnapping raids dragging people off from their own homes.
Blythe shook his head. They assumed the point of kidnapping Atasi was to get her to make more cyberware that they could use to puppet people, but if they were really running out, why continue to grab more poor sods? At least the demon’s new hobby of digging extra tunnels between sewer lines could be explained as adding movement routes for them.
“Fuck” Blythe leaned back rubbing his temples. How could one job be so simultaneously stressful AND boring?
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