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Below, Grandpa Arlet was no longer sitting passively on his horse.
The moment chaos erupted from Ember's charging, Grandpa Arlet moved.
His hands came down from their "surrender" position, and in the same fluid motion, his laser gun was out and firing. The first shot caught a knight in the shoulder, spinning him from his saddle. The second took another in the leg, dropping him to one knee.
"AMBUSH!" screamed, as if the last thirty seconds hadn't made that abundantly clear.
Anya saw him move. Saw the weapon in his hand. Saw the cold precision in his eyes; not the eyes of a frightened old man, but of a soldier. A killer.
Like he was.
She screamed; a wordless cry of rage; and charged.
Her first shot went wide, scorching the air beside his head. Her second was closer, singing his sleeve. But Grandpa Arlet returned fire, forcing her to duck, to roll, to scramble for cover behind a boulder.
She lunged from cover, then fired a lethal shot. Grandpa Arlet's horse tumbled, taking a deadly shot to the chest, and the old man was forced to be thrown. He crouched from his fall as he looked back at his horse; faithful creature, loyal to the end; lying still on the ground with a smoking wound in its chest.
The old man looked at the fallen animal for just a moment. Something passed across his face; grief, perhaps, or regret. Then it hardened into resolve.
"That was a good horse," he said quietly. "She didn't deserve that."
Anya advanced on him, her laser gun raised, her eyes burning with a hatred that had been hours in the making. "I don't care about your horse. I care about them." She gestured vaguely at the far end of the ravine, of her fallen comrades left behind in the tunnel, dead because of him.
"You killed them."
Grandpa Arlet met her gaze steadily. "I caused a cave-in to slow down people who were hunting a child. If your comrades died, it was because your leader chose to press on rather than turn back. That's on him. Not me."
"Liar." Anya's voice shook. "You wore Vance's face. You walked among us. You lied."
"And you hunt children." The old man's voice was calm, but there was steel beneath it. "We all have things to answer for."
Anya fired.
Grandpa Arlet moved, faster than any human his age should have been able to, the laser beam scorching the air where he'd been standing. He rolled, came up with his own weapon drawn, and fired back.
Anya dove behind the boulder again, the shot splintering stone inches from her head. She popped up, fired again, and again. He dodged, weaved, returned fire with a precision that spoke of decades of practice.
But she was young. She was fast. And she was furious.
"You can't keep this up forever, old man!" she shouted, squeezing off another burst.
"Don't need forever," he replied. "Just need long enough."
A blur of orange fur slammed into her from the side.
Ember had been hearing the commotion going on from where he was helping the small cub, and went to go help the two legged being attacked by another armored two legged. Now he struck, his massive body carrying Anya to the ground, his jaws snapping inches from her face. She screamed, bringing her gun up, but the Vulpimancer was faster; a massive paw slammed down on her wrist, pinning it to the stone.
Ember looming over her, its smooth eyeless face inches from her own as a warning growl emitted from him.
Grandpa Arlet straightened, breathing hard. "Good job," he called. "Hold her—"
Laser fire from behind sent him diving for cover.
Enoch advanced through the chaos, his golden mask gleaming. One hand extended with his laser gun, while the other had a small device in his palm pressing what appears to be the on button.
SKKRRREEEEE
A sonorous sound emitted from the device. To everyone in the vicinity, it wasn't too disturbing, but to Ember The sound was like a pressure, a physical force that slammed into Ember's sensitive ear flaps directly. The Vulpimancer screamed; a high, pained keen; and released Anya, his claws scrabbling at his own head as he tried to escape the noise.
Anya scrambled back as she looked up at Enoch that had stopped twenty yards away from their position, dismounting from his horse.
"The sonic disruptor. A modified mini replica of the screecher." he said mildly, as if commenting on the weather. "Designed specifically for creatures with enhanced auditory senses. Effective, wouldn't you say?"
Then the device landed beside her.
The small device still pulsing with a faint red light. "Use that if you want to live." Nodding to the vulpimancer that was still covering its head in pain.
Anya scrambled to her feet, grabbing her fallen weapon and the sonic disruptor. "Sir—the old man—he's—"
"I see him."
Enoch's gaze shifted to where Grandpa Arlet stood, his own weapon raised, his expression carefully neutral. Behind the alchemist, Buzzrot was still in the air, dueling with the remaining knights that weren't attacked by either him or Ember, but that wasn't his concern.
"Arlet," he said, the name dropping like a stone into still water. "It's been too long."
Grandpa Arlet's eyes narrowed. "Not long enough, Enoch."
The name hung between them like a challenge.
Anya stared, her mind racing. They knew each other. They had HISTORY. And from the tone of their voices, it wasn't a happy one. But she had other problems to take care of as the demon dog was recovering from the sonic attack.
"You've caused me considerable inconvenience," Enoch continued, his voice almost conversational. "Men lost. Time wasted. Resources expended." He shook his head slowly. "I expected better from you."
"And I expected you to stay dead," Grandpa Arlet replied. "Disappointing, isn't it, how expectations so often fail?"
Enoch tilted his head. "Still the optimist. Still clinging to that weary hope that things might work out for the best." He raised his laser gun, aiming directly at Grandpa Arlet's chest. "Let me cure you of that."
He fired.
Grandpa Arlet moved; not fast enough to dodge entirely, but fast enough to turn a killing shot into a glancing blow. The beam caught his weapon instead of his heart, and the device exploded in his hand, sending fragments spinning. He dropped it with a curse, shaking his singed fingers.
Grandpa Arlet's hand went to his pocket. It emerged holding a small dagger, its blade barely longer than his palm. It looked ridiculous against Enoch's laser gun.
"That's your plan?" Enoch's voice carried a hint of amusement. "A dagger?"
"It's not the dagger." Grandpa Arlet shifted his grip, settling into a stance that spoke of long practice. "It's who's holding it."
He moved.
Enoch fired, but the old man was already gone, He closed the distance in heartbeats, the dagger slashing toward Enoch's throat.
The alchemist blocked with his armored wrist, the impact jarring both of them. Arlet swung his hand to stab the small blade towards Enoch's open side, but Enoch's free hand caught his wrist.
For a moment, they were frozen, locked together, inches apart. The golden mask stared into the weathered face of the man who had known for a long time.
"You've lost your edge, Arlet." Enoch breathed.
"Have I?"
Grandpa Arlet's knee drove into Enoch's stomach.
The alchemist doubled over, his grip loosening. The old man twisted, wrenched his wrist free, and slammed the hilt of his dagger into the side of Enoch's mask. The golden surface spasmed, then Arlet slashed at the hand holding the laser gun.
The laser gun spun away, clattering against the rocks.
Enoch stumbled back, clutching his arm in surprised, his mask tilting in what might have been surprise. "Perhaps not," he admitted.
"Fight like a soldier," Grandpa Arlet spat. "Not like a technician hiding behind his toys."
For a moment, Enoch simply stared at him. Then, slowly, he straightened. His once clutched hand reached to his belt and drew something new; a sword, both elegant and deadly as its blade caught the sunset's light.
"You want to fight like men?" Enoch's voice was soft, dangerous. "Fine. Let's fight like men."
Grandpa Arlet glanced to the side. A sword lay on the ground, five feet away. Likely Anya's has it had been knocked from her side when Ember tackled her.
The old wrecker discarded his dagger in favor to use the sword and dove.
Enoch lunged.
They met in the middle, steel clashing against steel, the sound ringing off the ravine admist the chaos. Grandpa Arlet used the sword to parry Enoch's first strike, second, third.
"You haven't lost your touch, old friend." Enoch admitted, pressing the attack. "I'll give you that."
"And you've gotten slower." Grandpa Arlet sidestepped a thrust, riposted, forced Enoch back a step. "Too much time playing with toys. Forgetting everything I taught you."
Enoch's eyes behind the mask narrowed, as his mind flashed to the years that fell by, before everything went wrong.
Two Wreckers, saluting to their officials given an assignment to navigate a primitive world likely infested with a dangerous parasite.
A spaceship navigating to earth, landing on a small Island, only to be struck down by a blinding slash. Sending it crashing below.
Both soldiers; wounded and bleeding after putting up a fight; raising their hands in surrender as a large steaming humanoid creature with a beard looked down on them, several earthlings with medieval knight armory flanking the massive titan's side. While a young knight with bright golden eyes glared at the extraterrestrial soldiers as well, holding a glowing sword pointed at them.
Now stranded on a primitive world, with no choice but to do the bidding of their captives so as to survive.
Now here they were, comrades once. Partners…Friends.
"You should have stayed by my side." Enoch murmured. "When we first arrived here. When we realized there was no way back. You should have stayed."
Grandpa Arlet's jaw tightened. "Maybe."
"But you didn't." Enoch's voice hardened. "I chose survival. I chose adaptation. I chose to thrive in a world that wanted us dead." He raised his sword again, fresh resolve in his stance.
"And now you come out of hiding, after all these decades, to oppose me? To oppose everything I've built? That you once helped built?"
"You're a traitor, Enoch." The words came out of the old wrecker sharp and final. "You betrayed our kind. You betrayed our mission. You betrayed me."
"Our mission?" Enoch laughed, a hollow sound. "The Wreckers would have declared us dead a century ago. We've been here nearly ninety years, Arlet. NINETY YEARS. How long were we supposed to wait for a rescue that was never coming?"
"We were supposed to SURVIVE. Not—not THIS." Grandpa Arlet gestured at the knights, at the weapons, at the chaos. "Not becoming monsters. Not slaughtering children or people for some fanatic's divine order. Not—"
"And what did you do?" Enoch's voice rose, for the first time losing its cool control. "You found yourself a human woman. Settled down. Played house while the world burned around you." His eyes flickered with something that might have been contempt.
"Does Xylene know? Does she know you've replaced her with a primitive? That you've fathered children with—"
"DON'T."
The word was a snarl, low and dangerous. Grandpa Arlet's grip on his sword tightened until his knuckles went white.
"Don't you DARE bring up her name."
Enoch snorted. It was not a kind expression. "Xylene; a strong and beautiful Uxorite. The love of your life, waiting somewhere in the cosmos, probably searching for you even now." He tilted his head. "And here you are, playing grandfather to your hybrid human child, building a new family while she wonders if you're dead or alive."
Grandpa Arlet's eyes burned.
"At least I'm not a monster, Enoch."
"I'm a realist." Enoch raised his sword. "And you're a fool who let his heart rule his head. Just like always."
They charged.
Two old Wreckers. Two former partners. Two enemies.
____________________
Buzzrot had been dominating the battlefield, satisfied he has taken down most of the knights, the rest still groaning and trying to dislodge goo from their body. He should go check up on the old man and Ember while he's at it. Speaking of which,
His heart nearly dropped as he saw what was going on at the other side some meters away, A knight was firing shots at the writhing Vulpimancer while holding a strange device in her hand.
"NO!" Buzzrot's voice shrilled. He abandoned his dueling with the remaining knights, then dove forward, his wings beating frantically, toward his fallen friend.
Anya kept firing at the abomination that was backing away, whenever it tried to attack she pressed the sonic disruptor and kept firing her attacks. The first shot singed orange fur. The second drew blood. Ember howled, still clawing at his head, unable to defend himself.
"Die you demo-!"
"LEAVE HIM ALONE!"
Buzzrot's body slammed into Anya, sending her flying. He landed between her and Ember, his wings spread wide, his stance protective.
Eren turned to check on the Vulpimancer, his four glowing eyes soft with concern. "Ember? Ember, are you okay? That sound—it looked like it really hurt you—"
Ember shook its massive head, whining softly, but seemed otherwise intact. It nuzzled against Eren's side in gratitude…only to step back in horror at the devastating smell coming off the small cub.
A shriek escaped Ember as its sonic flaps closed on instinct, its eyeless face scrunching at the smell.
Eren took offense. "Hey! I don't smell that bad!"
…The vulpimnacer's high sense of smell begs to differ unfortunately.
Then Anya found her feet.
"FINISH THEM!" she screamed, her voice raw with rage and shame and the desperate need for this nightmare to END. "ALL OF YOU—KILL THEM NOW!"
The knights responded. The ones still standing and capable, they raised their weapons and FIRED.
"Not happening." Eren muttered as he used his wings to cover Ember's large body, even as the vulpimancer whined at the smell.
Enoch and Arlet heard the shouting making their head turn to the source.
"EREN!"
"HALT-!"
But it was too late. Lasers struck home; one, two, three, burning into his wings, his side, his back. Buzzrot screamed, but he didn't move. He held his position, taking shot after shot, refusing to let them hit Ember.
"STOP!"
Grandpa Arlet's voice cut through the chaos. He broke away from Enoch, and was running toward them, sword still in hand. But he was too far. Too slow. The knights kept firing, and Eren kept taking it.
The old wrecker pulled out a canister from his satchel; one of the last tools he still had at his disposal for emergencies, and let it hit the ground at the knights' feet.
Smoke erupted, thick and white and blinding.
"GO!" he roared. "NOW!"
Buzzrot didn't hesitate. He grabbed Ember; the Vulpimancer was huge, easily four times his mass, but his alien was capable of carrying things easily 5 times his body, and then he lifted. His wings beat, straining due to the injury, but nonetheless rose into the smoke-shrouded air.
Grandpa Arlet was already moving. A knight's horse, panicked by the chaos, had bolted past him. He caught its reins, swung onto its back, and urged it forward.
They fled before the smoke cleared.
The ravine was empty save for the knights, the bodies of their fallen, and the slowly fading echoes of hoofbeats and wingbeats.
"No," Anya whispered. "NO!"
The old man was getting away!...All those deaths, after all that-they can't just come here all the way for nothing!!
"TAKE AIM!" Anya screamed. "DON'T LET THEM ESCAPE!"
One knight raised his weapon, aiming at the fleeing figures. His finger tightened on the trigger—
And Enoch's hand closed around his wrist, shoving the barrel skyward.
"I said halt."
The knight stared, confusion and outrage warring on his face. "Sir—they're getting away—the boy—"
"Look." Enoch pointed past the fleeing figures, past the smoke, past the ravine walls.
The knight looked.
And felt his blood turn to ice.
Titans.
Dozens of them. Emerging from the forest, drawn by the noise this whole time. Their empty eyes fixed on the ravine, on the warm, delicious scent of human fear.
They were coming.
"Divine order preserve us," someone whispered.
Enoch watched them come, his expression unreadable behind his golden mask. Then he turned to look after the fleeing figures; the boy now a winged insect, the beast, the old man who had once been his friend.
Enoch said nothing. He simply turned, walked to his horse, and mounted. "We follow."
This made the knights confused. "Sir Enoch, shouldn't we not have take aim in the first place?"
"And risk killing the boy, the order needs him alive. Not the other way round. We're not far behind."
The knights obeyed and followed, one by one, leaving the ravine behind.
Behind them, the Titans advanced.
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