The Battle Begins

 

Chapter 5

 

 “Stop!  STOP!”

Sean McComnal (pronounced McCooal) stomped on the brake, gripping the steering wheel as he fought to keep the Winnebago on the rough, pitted back road.  At the same time, he was looking around wildly, trying to discover why his partner, Arthur Rendrix the 3^rd, had yelled out the command.

Once the oversized vehicle was stopped and no danger had jumped out at them, Sean turned a disgusted look to the passenger seat.

“Oh that’s just great.”  He drawled, seeing the glazed, vacant look on the dark haired young man’s face. “Scare the crap outta me and then you decided to have an out of body experience.  Damn.”

He pulled himself out from behind the steering wheel and made his way into the back of the motor home.  It had been awhile since they had stopped last for something to eat.  He opened the small refrigerator, looking through its meager contents with reluctance.  It had been awhile since they had stopped to hunt and it was beginning to get on his nerves.  It was strange.  He had always like to hunt, but since the…change…hunting had become something he had to do.  Going to long with out getting out in the woods would start wearing on his nerves and he had about reached his limit.

Of course, his little adventure a few days ago, taking out those guards of the hellish army they were still trying to get around, had helped.

Arthur might make snide comments about his over abundance of testosterone, yet even he knew that the hunt was a part of his being…a part of all those that called themselves Garou.  Even the city dwelling Glass-Walkers (of which there were very few left on the North American Continent) and Bone-Gnawers.

It was true, however, that Sean had more of a problem with it than most Garou.  Sean had the dubious honor of being one of those few Garou that could honestly claim to be a part of two separate tribes – The Native American Garou called the Wendigo, and the Celtic Garou – the Fianna!

This double dose of heritage gave Sean a tendency to jump in to a brawl gleefully…without a second thought.  Somewhere along the way, when the natural Fight or Flight tendency was instilled…some one forgot the Flight part.

And that is where Arthur came in. 

Since the time of the Roman invasion of the Celtic islands, there had always been a Rendrix…and as the times required, the Rendrix was always matched up with a McComnal.

Wielding a type of magic that defied classification, the Rendrix males and their McComnal companions would battle the Corrupter…the Wyrm…where ever and whenever it or its minions were found!

Sighing, Sean reached in to grab a portion of the cooked deer haunch, trying with little success to squelch the desire to get out and run down some fresh meat.

As he straightened and allowed the refrigerator to close, Sean froze, the hackles on the back of his neck rising.  Though there was no apparent change outside the Winnebago, Sean felt as if a deep, dark shadow had risen from the north to block out the warmth of the sun.

“Oh shit.”  He whispered, the deer meat falling from his hands…

“Arthur, where the hell are you?”

Sean glared at the motionless body of his friend, the dropped deer meat forgotten as he struggled to maintain control. 

When the…wave…of evil had washed over the area, it had taken all his willpower (not one of his strong points when it came to fighting or the ladies) to remain in his Homid, or Human, form.

Sean was one of those almost mythical race of beings called Werewolves by the ignorant and Garou amongst themselves and the enlightened.

For the first seventeen years of his life, Sean had never known that he was anything other than human.  Then the changes began.  Starting first with bursts of raging temper at the slightest provocation.  In a small community run by a group of bullyboys, this had not been a good thing.

He remembered clearly the day some of the local Warlord’s toughs had decided to make an example of this loud-mouthed, obnoxious kid.  Though they had obviously expected him to put up some fight, he was, after all, a good six foot two, and all muscle; they had clearly not expected what had happened.

After being beat on for what, to him, seemed like an eternity, he had snapped, his anger raging out of control.

Growling like an animal, he had grabbed the next arm to come within reach and yanked.  He didn’t simply yank the arm’s owner around; he yanked the arm completely off!  He had then started using the arm like a club, ignoring the screams of pain from the arm’s owner as he methodically beat the others to death with the torn limb.

As it was, he would have died that day as one of the toughs raised an old Thompson machine-gun had it not been for Arthur.

The two boys had become inseparable friends a year or so earlier, neither well liked by the powers that be and both usually up to their armpits in trouble.  Arthur, however, had always been, to understate the matter, a little more subtle than Sean in his activities, preferring to use his mind and mystical abilities from a distance rather than involving himself in a brawl.

Not that he couldn’t, of course.  That had been seen later when Sean, now permanently linked to Arthur mentally, lay dying of gunshot wounds.  Arthur had raged, bringing an entire village down in ruins, his form shifting and blending into a giant, black panther.

If either had one great weakness, it was their strongest asset…their mental link.  Both knew that, should something happen to the other, they could easily fall into a rage from which death would be the only escape.

All these things flashed through Sean’s mind as he struggled to maintain his Homid form.

Just as he was beginning to think he could hold it, he felt the faint traces of a mental touch, as if some one, or something, were trying to find him.

Instantly, he attempted to raise the mental shields Arthur had spent many long hours trying to teach him.  It seemed as if that action alone was enough to guide the seeking mind to his.

Sean cringed as he felt his shields swept aside as if they were nothing.

“I’ve no time for games, boy.” The harsh thought intruded into his mind. “And neither do you! You have got to get moving and moving now. You have to get out of there or you are going to die!”

Sean tried to pull his thoughts together.  Though he was no novice at mental communications, his experience had largely been confined to communicating with Arthur and Alpha (the enchanted, possessed some might say, bowie knife he wore tucked into the top of his boot on the outside of his right leg).

“Who…”  he began, somewhat clumsily.  He felt the thoughts picked from his mind before he could even formulate them clearly.

“No time for a length discussion, boy.”  Came the return thought. “Get moving…now!  You have to reach the woods, quickly!”

The mind withdrew as suddenly as it had intruded, leaving Sean grasping at shadows.

“I can’t!”  He sent to the ether, his eyes fastening on the motionless form of his companion. “I can’t move Arthur’s body while he is gone!”

“Stop!  STOP!”  Arthur shouted the command and then vacated his body.  Sean would not be happy, and through their link he could already feel the irritation building.  He shut out the distraction as he concentrated on what he had to do.

He had felt something as they traveled and the need to discover what it was he was sensing had finally proven to be more than he could resist.

His astral form, connected to his body via a thin silvery line, soared up and to the north, towards the army they had been trying to flank.

He had not shared the uneasiness he had felt building for the last few days with Sean.  Knowing his impulsive companion, just a whiff of what Arthur feared was the case would have been enough to send him on the warpath…a path he was not ready to take…not against this kind of foe.

The massive army had halted its movement, vehicles and armor of all types strung out for miles.  As his astral form neared the head of the column, the unease he felt began to grow.  This column had not stopped for a rest…they were setting up for a fight!

Soldiers spread out on either side of the road they traveled, their eyes raising again and again to the sky, searching for something they obviously expected to be coming from the east, their weapons ready.

In the center of the road, standing in front of the lead vehicles, a small group of individuals stood, power radiating from their auras.

“Metas.”  Arthur identified them, his eyes narrowing.  He had long ago discovered his ability to ‘feel’ those persons and animals that had been touched with the power of The Artifact.  Though it was not a gift he had been born with, his close association with Sean had allowed him to eventually sense the taint of corruption, the pure evil the Garou called the Wyrm. At the same time, he had learned to sense those touched by the Artifact! 

Arthur concentrated on the Metas, sensing that he was seeing something new…these were not just two bit punks with a little power!  These were cold-blooded killers, each holding more power than either he or Sean had ever seen before.

While the soldiers appeared nervous, these Metas appeared almost gleeful, not concerned in the slightest with what ever had caused them to call a halt to the movement of the army.  Indeed, they seemed almost impatient.

If these people were who he feared they were, Arthur knew there was a chance they would be able to detect his astral form and even harm him while in this state.  Yet he knew he had to get closer and check things out.  He felt…no, he knew that these were not the sole reason of his concern.  There was something else here and he had to find out what it was. 

Thought was action and like a camera zooming in for a close up, Arthur’s astral form zoomed in closer.  Almost too close.

One of the Metas looked up and in his general direction, as if he could see Arthur’s astral form and Arthur felt a wave of evil spring forth and he knew that this particular Meta was the one that he had sensed…. for this Meta was no ordinary Human touched by The Artifact!  This was nothing less than a Black Spiral Dancer!  One of those tribes of Garou given entirely over to the evil corruption of the Wyrm.  Arthur shook his head as the implications sank in.  A Garou, already impressive with his or her natural abilities, would be awesome if enhanced by The Artifact, as well.  And Arthur knew that this was exactly what he was seeing here!

The Black Spiral gestured in his direction and Arthur gasped as a hole materialized, a rip in the fabric of time and space.  An opening into…Hell! He began to retreat even as a wave of…filth…washed forth from the opening.  That wave would, he knew, be felt by every Garou for a hundred miles or more, and would be felt by every psionic or mystic in the world.

He shielded himself as best as possible as the wave overcame him and passed him by, gagging at the astral stench. 

He paused, torn by the desire to be gone and the need to learn more.  His dilemma was answered for him when, though via link, he felt the intrusion of another mind in Sean’s!

That other mind, he knew, was aware of him even as it gave its commands to Sean.  Indeed, it seemed as if it were talking as much to him as it was to Sean.

He allowed himself to slide back into his body even as Sean sent out his feeble complaint.

“I’m back!”  He gasped as physical awareness returned. “Do what he says.  Move.  We’ve got big problems.”

Sean didn’t question further.  He jumped into the drivers seat, cranked the engine, and headed, out, traveling as fast as the deteriorated road way would allow!

Ian opened his eyes, shaking his head.  He would have to learn more about these…Garou, but now was not the time.  He had done what he could to warn the youths traveling towards his woods, now he had to see to his own preparations.

He had felt the rift even as it opened and had felt the wash of evil that had poured forth.  It was something new, at least.  In all his years traveling from Shadow world to Shadow world, he had felt nothing like it.  Ian knew evil, but this…this was all that evil concentrated into one small package. Pure and undiluted.

“Gerald,” Ian gave a few last minute instructions before he headed out. “Contact who ever is in charge of the…Rebels, I believe they call themselves…and the Amazons. Let them know they have nothing to fear if they traverse the woods…so long as they watch their step and don’t go for each other’s throats.”

“Oh lovely.”  The butler rolled his eyes. “Shall I offer them tea and biscuits while I am at it?”

“I’m sure they would appreciate it.”  Ian shot back, not missing a beat. He didn’t drag it out, however, turning serious once again. “I’m gone.  Take care of things until I get back.”  And with that he simply disappeared, teleporting out of the tower.

With Ian gone, Gerald’s haughty composure crumbled, worry lining his face.

“Take care, master.”  He whispered.  He then turned, leaving the Master’s Study as he hurried to do Ian’s bidding.

“I don’t like this.”  Rogue confided to Jenny as the quartet moved east. She and Jennifer Walters were flying slightly behind and below Kara and Lar as they passed over the wooded area.  Despite their quick take off from the Rebel camp, they were not rushing blindly into this.  They had slowed their progress, giving themselves time to react to anything that might be thrown in their path.  So far, nothing had happened.  That, Rogue felt, was soon to end.

Jenny’s only response was a tight lipped nod, her face contorted with pain. Rogue, looking around and below, didn’t notice.

“I see them!”  Rogue’s attention was brought to the front as Kara’s shouted warning drifted back.  So far, she could see nothing but trees and more trees.  Then she realized that Kara must have been using her telescopic and x-ray vision together to allow her to scope out what lay ahead. She did the same herself and grimaced as the halted military column snapped into view.

“They’re waiting for us!”  She called out the warning. “Kara, I think we are close enough.”

“We have to stop them here and now!”  Lar spoke up before Kara could answer.  He shot forward, pouring on the speed.  With a curse, Kara sped after him, Rogue and Jenny right behind.

“Lar, Stop!”  Kara called out, her shout filled with both anger and worry. ‘We don’t know what they’ve got waiting for us!”

Aware that Jenny was right beside her, Rogue bit her tongue, biting back the harsh words that sprang to mind as Lar doubled his speed, forcing the others to do likewise to keep up.

“Soldiers on the sides of the roads,” She called out, sweeping the area with her vision. “I would imagine that group in the road are metas waiting for us.”

Lar never paused, streaking straight in as if to land right in the middle of the group of metas.

So caught up were the others in the actions of their erratic companion, no one noticed the dish shaped arrays on some of the vehicles that spun to face them.

“Time to play, you pricks!”  Lar yelled; as he slammed feet first into the group of metas, bowling several head over heal.

More cautious, the others landed a distance away and started closing on the ground they did not see anything they couldn’t handle.  Except…

Lar gaped as one of the Metas able to maintain his feet jumped forward with a blood-curdling howl! This was no normal human with some small bit of Shard induced power!  Standing a full 8 feet, the figure leaping at Lar was a horrid mixture of wolf and man; it’s gaping jaws dripping with thick, rabid like foam.  One huge paw/hand swung out and down, the glistening claws raking across Lar’s face, blood following the deadly claws in an arc as they continued their swing.

Pain! As the blow sent him flying backwards, Lar gripped his torn face, blinding pain shooting inward from his left eye. So intense was the agony, he had no knowledge of hitting the ground several hundred feet away and curling into a fetal position.

Stunned by the ferocity of the attack and its results, Kara, Rogue, and Jenny halted their progress, sizing up the situation.    They didn’t have much time, however, as the creature leapt forward and, in three bounds, was within striking distance of Kara.

Once again the paw/hand reared back and swung forward.  This time, however, the result was far different.   Surprise registered in the thing’s eyes as it felt it’s arm grabbed in mid swing, then, with a howl of astonishment, it found itself flying back through the air towards the group of metas just beginning to get to their feet.

“Zal teach you that?”  Rogue asked, though she never took her eyes off the group of metas.

“Please.”  Kara shook her head slightly.  “Zal may be a master of Koh-Re, but I'm not exactly a beginner.”  She risked a glance to her side. ‘And neither are you.  That’s something else you absorbed from me.”

“If you two would-be Bruce Lees don’t mind.”  Jenny managed to gasp.  She was holding one hand to her lower abdomen, the other gesturing towards the group of metas. 

None were making moves towards them and the strange werewolf like creature was keeping his distance, eyeing them warily.

Rogue turned to look at Jenny …and all hell broke loose!

Kara felt herself bowled over as machine guns began to rattle and the metas unleashed blast after blasts of different forms of energy in their direction.

Dazed, Kara looked up…to see Krypto standing on her, holding her down, A look of pleading in his eyes as he alternated between growling at the advancing metas and whining at her.

From her position, she could see tremendous green flashes as Jenny unleashed bolt after bolt of Lantern Energy, She could hear the screams of pain and the thudding of flesh on flesh as Rogue waded into the enemy. 

“Rogue!!  NO!!!!”  Jenny’s scream brought Kara up, Krypto leaping away to avoid being tumbled to the ground.

For an instant it seemed as if all were still.  Kara could see Rogue, her face a mask of bewilderment and her back a mass of blood and torn flesh as she turned, the bright red stitching of bullet holes dotting her upper body.  She seemed to hang there for a moment, her eyes pleading for an explanation…and then…she crumpled to the asphalt.

A second scream caused Kara to whirl. Jenny was buckling, her hands clutching her stomach as she fell forward to lie in a fetal position.  Kara felt the rage boiling and, turning, she slammed into the group of metas, blood and body parts splattering as she swung her fists and arms.  It was sheer luck, nothing more, that allowed Kara to move through the metas, without getting hit by the whizzing, tumbling hail of lead that flashed past her, often times to strike one of the enemy’s own. 

Yet even as the last of the pitiful metas fell before her, her luck ran out as a bullet creased her head, knocking her back to the ground, senseless.

It was only then that Lar, exerting every ounce of willpower in his being, finally made his way to his feet, blood still streaming from his face and the now empty socket of his left eye. His companions and wife were down.  Rogue dead or dying, Jenny huddled uselessly in the center of the ruined road, clutching her abdomen, Kara stirring feebly on the ground, blood flowing from the near miss, spilling down over her face.

He had gotten cocky.  He had started to believe there was nothing in this world that could really hurt him, despite all the evidence to the contrary that had been thrust into his face over the past months.

On either side of the road, the gunfire intensified as the soldiers attempting to bring down the last of the heroes, their elation at bringing down, from their point of view, three making them reckless.  They did not understand how this final person could stand up under the onslaught of the kryptonite-coated ammunition.  They had no knowledge of the differences between a Daxamite and a Kryptonian.

Before Lar could react, the gunfire ceased.  Replaced almost instantly with screams of pain and terror as twin beams of red, similar to the beams of heat vision that shot from his own eyes, played along both sides of the road.  The beams had come from the air yet, as he turned his one good eye upward, he saw nothing.

He risked a glance behind him to see that, who ever it was that had started frying the soldiers, they had not arrived alone.  Though he had no trust for the man, he was grateful to see Ian bending over the figure of his wife.

“We have to get them out of here!”  Ian called out.  His eyes narrowed as he studied the wolfman…the only meta to remain standing.  His mind brought up images of the assassin that had the audacity to seek him out in his own woods.

He turned his attention to the white animal that slid up next to him.  Krypto, a bright shiny silver collar adorning his thick, muscled neck pushed his nose at the moaning figure of Jenny.  He stopped and locked eyes with Ian.

“Go.”  Ian commanded. “Your pack will need you, too.”  He saw the animal’s eyes dart to Kara. “I will see to her.”  Ian assured his newest Guardian. “Now go, you can do nothing more here!”  Krypto hesitated briefly and then was gone, his super speed allowing him to move so fast it would seem he simply vanished.

Ian turned his attention back to the…Skin dancer the nymphs had called the one that invaded the forest.  For a long moment their gazes locked and then, with a nod to show it understood this war was not over, the Skin Dancer sped back through the column of vehicles, away from the site of the battle.

“Lar, see to your wife, I’ll see to Kara!” Ian ordered as he bent over the blonde Kryptonian.

Kara, regaining conscious, tried to wave him away.

“I'm fine.”  Her voice sounded weak even to her own ears. She shook her head and then winced at the waves of pain that action caused.  She finally gained her feet, with the aid of Ian, and looked around. “What about Rogue?”  She demanded. 

“She right over….” Ian stopped in mid sentence and gesture.  Only a pool of bright red blood remained at the spot where Rogue had fallen. He frowned and then pulled Kara closer to him. “We’ll find her.”  He said. “But first we have to get you three out of here and back to where we can get you medical attention.  Both Lar and Jenny are still loosing blood and you probably have a concussion.”

Ian pulled Kara with him as he moved to where Lar knelt by the motionless figure of Jennifer Walters. He paused as the sound of distant gunfire reached his ears.  The Rebels had finally arrived and were hitting  the Lex Corps troops along their right flank.  No wonder the Skin Dancer had decided to retreat.

“Come on.”  He whispered to the semi-conscious Kara. “This battle is now between the soldiers. Let them do their job.”  He guided her closer to Lar and Jenny. “Give me one of your hands and put your other on your wife.” He ordered the Daxamite. “Hurry, damnit!” he barked as Lar hesitated. “Any minute now these soldiers are going to realize they’ve won and start firing again!”

Lar reached down and grasped one of Jenny’s hands and then reached out with his other, allowing Ian to grasp it.

There was a brief instant of…nothingness and then Lar found himself kneeling in the middle of the Rebel camp, medical people racing out of one of the tents towards them.

The XO of the rebels watched with amused amazement as the jeep came sailing over the tree tops, two blond youngsters in Rebel tiger stripe cammies holding it between them as they flew.

“Don’t do that again!”  Betsy, Gen. Raines personal driver was white faced, her hands gripping the steering wheel as the teens gently lowered the vehicle to the ground.

“Well, the General did say ASAP, didn’t he?” one of the pair that was quickly becoming known as The Twins, Carrie and Karen or, as they had named themselves, Supergirl and Powergirl, respectively, popped off.  From what he had seen on the file The Rebel Intelligence had put together,  The XO had to assume that the speaker was Carrie, the more brash of the two…barely.  Of course identification would be easier if they were in the costumes they had taken for themselves rather than the cammies they had been issued when their mother, Kara, whom people were beginning to call Superwoman, had assigned them to Buddy.

“The General said get on the horn and contact Base Camp One.”  Betsy snapped. “he did not say FLY to our Camp!”

“There’s a difference?”  one of the twins cocked her head, clearly bewildered by the terms.

“This is the camp.”  The XO explained as he walked up, smiling at Betsy’s distress. “Base Camp One is the Main Rebel base up north.”  His tone grew serious. “we got the call from Capt. Dianne, relaying Buddy’s orders.  1^st Brigade has already moved out.”  He shook his head. “There is no way they are going to reach them in time.!”

They had moved out in mass, their vehicles left behind, each man and woman carrying all the weapons and ammo he or she could handle and still move at a reasonable pace.

There had been a slight pause as they neared the edge of the woods.

“Are we sure this is a good idea?”  a Company commander asked another.  The other simple shrugged.

“General Raines said do it…You want to argue the point with him?”

“Not me!” The first shook his head and waved his command forward, leading the way.

There was no gradual thickening of trees.  The forest line began and ended with a sudden sharpness that seemed some how unnatural.  Taking a deep breath, the Company commander stepped forward into the woods and, with his next step, found himself on the inside of a forestline looking out…at a columm on enemy soldiers.  Some how, someway, the entire brigade had been shunted through the forest and now they stood, amazed.  Their amazement did not last long.

“My GOD!”  some one shouted out.  “That’s Superwoman out there…and she’s getting creamed!”

“No she’s not,” some one else responded.  “She’s taking out the metas….Let’s take out those soldiers!”

And that quickly they were trained professionals again.

“Lay some heat on the center of the column!” the command went out. “You people with bloop tubes las some grenades in there while the mortars are being set up.   C’mon people…it’s time to rock and roll!”

And the Rebels began to rain death and destruction…rebel style…down on the army of Lex Luthor!

Col. James Masterson was nothing if not a professional.  A mercenary before the world went to hell, he had fought all over the world, not caring what he was fighting for, so long as the pay was good and there was a better than even chance that he would get out alive.  Since the collapse of civilization, he had never lacked for job opportunity.  Hiring out to this or that warlord, fighting battle after battle with poorly armed citizens, running them down like a steamroller, taking his pick of the spoils, usually young girls which he would often use, abuse, and discard when he tired of them.

And then, along came Lex Luthor.  Luthor had promised him steady employment.  Had promised him all the young girls he could ever want, allowing him to endulge in perversive pleasures that, before the break down of law and order, would have landed him in jail and had him labeled for life as a pedophile.  Luthor had promised him power and, eventually, a command of his own.  Except for the latter, Luthor had kept his promises. And James knew that promotion would come eventually.

He only wish it had come before this.  He had known that the General was making a huge blunder, keeping the entire column together as they moved toward the enemy.  He had known that it was wrong to be over confident, so sure that the new bullets and the few metas with the divisioin would be enough to win any battles they might run into.

Some where, the General had gotten the idea that these so-called Rebels were wannabes.  Farmers and country boys playing soldier. James had kept his mouth shut.  In the Lex Corps, junior officers did not further their careers by questioning the orders of their superiors.  Yet all he had been able to learn about these Rebels told him the General was dead wrong.  And now, it looked like he would soon be just dead!

When the first sounds of gunfire off the right flank reached his ears,  Col. Masterson had realized the jig was up.  If the Rebels had any kind of sizable force coming at them from the side, they would chew his troops up and spit them out.  It didn’t help that a good majority of those troops were not professioinal soldiers.  They were cannon fodder.  Thugs and two bit  bully boys that got their rocks off by sticking the muzzle of a gun into the face of defensless citizen and pulling the trigger.

And, thanks to the laws in effect at the time of the collapse, they were able to do that as often as they pleased.  In a society of de-balled, civilized sheep, a society where it was considered the most hedious of evils to pick up a big bad gun and protect your own life, possessions, and neighbors, these sub-human apes were wolves.

“Well, if we are the wolves, then the damned sheep dogs just showed up.!’  He winced and crouched lower iin the seat of his jeep as bullets began zipping by.  A grunt to his left drew his attention and he turned as his driver slumped backwards, his head lolling to the left.  James stifled a gag reflex when he saw that the entire left side of the drivers face was missing,

With a curse, james shoved the body out of the jeep and moved behind the wheel.  The rebels were tearing the hell out of them and not one had come in site yet.  He turned and looked around, catching the eye of his second in command and waved him over.

“Get our Company together, we are getting out of here.”  He snarled.  The officer nodded his understanding.  he had been with james a long time and knew that his Col had disagreed with every move the Brigade commander had made over the past few months.  He moved out to follow his orders, gathering together the Men james had hand picked over the years to build his own company.  These men would do what ever the Col asked of them and did it right.  They, like him, were professionals!.

James, for his part, threw the jeep in gear and roared up the column to where the Commanders Car was parked, boxed between tow huge armored vehicles.

“Col. Masterson, what the hell is going on?”  The general, his face white with panic, yelled as he spotted the junior officer crawling from his jeep, keeping his head low and presenting as little as possible a target.

“We’re under attack, you dipshit!”  James snarled as he got closer.

“What?”  the Genreals eyes bugged at the insult and his face twisted in rage. “I’ll have you shot..I’ll..”

“Die.”  James finished as he pulled his forty-five.  He lifted the weapon quickly and squeezed off a single round.  The General’s head jerked backward as the bullet struck his forehead. And then just as quickly forward as the back of his head exploded outward.  James turned to the other men standing around. “You idiots can sit here and die if you want.  I am pulling my men out and heading back north!”

“We can beat these riff raff!”  One of the dead generals flunkies wailed.

“You stupid shit!.” James holstered the .45 and yanked the flunky towards the edge of the column. “Look out there, you idiot!’  he snarled. “What are you going to beat?  Those Rebels are out there tearing the hell out of us and we haven’t even seen one of them yet.  It’s a wonder they haven’t….shit…GRENADE!”  he threw himself down, accidentally knocking the flunky down as well as the 40mm round sailed up and over, landing square on top of the command car!

The car blew and bits and pieces of flaming metal and bloody body parts flew in all directions!

His ears ringing and the hair singed form his arms and the back of his neck, James scrambled to his feet, remembering his training and keeping low as he scrabbled over to the flunky.

“Listen you little pencil dick, you get your ass moving and you get to the other commanders.  Let them know that I am pulling my people out and if they want to live they’ll follow!  Got that?”

The flunky nodded and moved out, keeping enough presence of mind to keep his head low.  James watched him move out and then moved back to where his own people were getting ready to pull out.

“Some are pulling out!”

“Let them go.  We don’t have our vehicles here and no way to follow. Besides, maybe they’ll start spreading the word..Don’t mess with the Rebels!”  There was a smattering of grim laughter and then the fire intensified as each and every Rebel tried his best to insure that few and fewer enemy soldiers escaped the death trap they had created.

“I have to go back.”  Kara was protesting as one medic pushed her to the ground and began examining the bloody crease on her scalp. “I have to find Rogue.”

“We couldn’t do anything for her.”  The medic told her as he cleansed the damaged area.

“What did you say?”  Kara reached up and grabbed the medic’s wrist, pulling him around so she could see his face.  Ian stood ready to intervene when he noticed the wince of pain in the medic’s face. “What do you mean you couldn’t help her?”

“She was brought to us by a woman in a green cloak.”  The medic told her. “She was still alive, but none of our instruments could cut through her skin.  We couldn’t operate to remove the bullets.  Those that hadn’t passed completely through, that is.”

“Where is she?”  Kara demanded, surging to her feet. “Damnit answer me.  Where is she?”

“She’s gone.”  The medic told her.  “When we told the woman in green that we couldn’t do anything for her, she pushed us out of the way, gathered Rogue in her arms and flew off.”

While Kara was dealing with the medic, two pairs of medics were seeing to Lar and Jenny.

“He’s losing a lot of blood.”  One spoke to Ian as he examined Lar’s ravaged face. “And just like the other one, we can’t do anything about it!”

Seeing that Kara was not about to tear her medic’s head off, Ian stepped over to the other medics and, to all appearances, simply stared at the instruments for a long moment.

“You’re instruments will work now.”  He told the skeptical medics. ‘Guard them well, those are the only one you will have that will be able to be used to help these people.”

“How’s Jenny?”  Lar demanded as the medics began swabbing away the blood from the gashes on his face.

“She’ll be fine.”  He was assured.  That wasn’t enough for the worried Daxamite.

“What the hell happened?”  He demanded.  The two medics working with Jenny whispered together and then one turned towards him.

“I'm afraid she has suffered a miscarriage.”  He blurted out the truth.

Lar felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him as he fell backward.  A miscarriage!

“I didn’t even know she was pregnant!”  He whispered.  “What…what caused it?”

“Who knows, at this point?”  The medic shrugged. “It will take some time and better facilities than we have….”

“Lead poisoning.”  Ian broke in, looking straight at Lar, his eyes hard. “The baby was exposed to lead and it did not share your immunity!”

Lar closed his one good eye.

“Ohmygod.  What have I done?”

“You have gotten some good people hurt, possibly killed.”  Ian snapped his mouth shut, willing himself to silence.  However he might feel about the Daxamite’s actions, it was not his place to reprimand him…that was solely Kara’s prerogative.

He turned and sighed as he noticed Kara pushing the medic away from her.

“And where do you think you are going?”  He demanded.

“I’ve got to find Rogue!”

“You don’t have time!”  Ian told her. “Remember that we have an army on the other side of that forest?  And where, pray tell, are your girls?”

Before Kara could answer, it was answered for her as twin streaks zapped across the Rebel camp to clamp onto Kara.  Both Karen and Carrie almost crying in their need to assure themselves Kara was okay.

Ian stepped away and looked to the sky. Soon the twins would know what had happened.   And then they would want to take off after Rogue.  They would, he knew, tear the entire globe apart if that is what it took to find her.

Though he had an idea of what had happened to the mutant-turned-Kryptonian, Ian kept his thoughts to himself.   This fragile world was not ready for that kind of confrontation.  Not yet, at any rate.

He straightened his shoulders and looked back towards his woods.  The battle had begun…of that there was no doubt.  What was in question was who would win the war? 

The sides were drawn, for the most part.   There were those aligned with Lex and those aligned with Kara.  And for good or ill, Ian had thrown his lot in with Kara.

Thought they may not battle together often, they would each fight this war in their own ways.  Each doing what they could to restore some semblance of freedom and civilization back to this blasted planet.

Leaving Kara to her daughters and Lar and Jenny with the medics, Ian teleported himself back to his tower.   He had to get ready for the visitors moving towards his tower in an old, beat up Winnebago.

Col. James masterson sighed heavily and placed the mic back in it’s holder.

Behind them, the sound of gunfire was dwindling as the Rebels began mopping up.

He had escaped the death trap with his own company and fractions of three others. But with very little in the way of equipment, or supplies.

He had dreaded reporting in and then been thouroughly shocked when he found himself receiving his orders directly from Lex Luthor himself.

He was to take command of the survivors and make his way north and East to Metropolis where he would be placed in command and allowed to reform the brigade to his specifications.

He stepped out of the Jeep and looked back at the smoke rising into the air from the battle site, close to four miles away now.

“You’re good.”  He whispered, clenching a fist. “But not good enough.  I’m going to crush you, Raines.  Count on it.”  He was silent for a moment and then as if drug out of him by sheer force, he grated the words many others in another universe had shouted, whimpered, snarled or hissed towards Buddy’s father. “God I hate that damned Raines!”

 

 

End of The Battle Begins!