A heavy magnetic boot came down on a pebble buried beneath the snow. The small stone crumbled under the weight, grinding into fragments as the power armor it supported continued its relentless climb up the steep slope.
Nolan had made a deliberate choice. He wasn't asking the Stormtrooper team to slow their pace or hide their tracks. If anything, he wanted the opposite. Let the resistance's outer sentries spot them early. Let word spread ahead of their arrival. Anything to reduce the chance of unnecessary conflict, the kind that started with nervous fingers on triggers and ended with bodies in the snow.
But six kilometers into their advance, approaching what should have been the rebel stronghold, Nolan's eyepiece detected nothing. No movement. No heat signatures. No signs of human activity whatsoever.
The scope of his helmet's scanning systems swept across the mountainside, finding only the occasional hibernating animal. Ground vibrations from the team's passage had awakened a few creatures from their winter sleep. Small heads poked out from burrows and hollow logs, eyes blank and confused, trying to understand what had disturbed their rest.
Nolan's hand shot up, fingers forming a sharp halt signal.
The response was immediate and flawless. The Stormtroopers dispersed, scattering to positions around him. They moved with practiced efficiency, each finding cover behind thick coniferous trees or large rock outcroppings. Bolters came up, held ready in armored grips, muzzles tracking potential threat vectors.
Nolan activated his communication device. "David, are you sure that the rebel stronghold is here? If they don't even have roaming sentries on the outside, how can they fight guerrillas against the official forces of Latveria? Do they rely on luck for a long time?"
Static crackled briefly before David's mechanical voice filtered through, calm and measured. "My Lord, if there are no unexpected circumstances, the Resistance Army's stronghold is in this area. However, on the Internet, the Resistance Army was most recently active a month and a half ago. Maybe..."
The sentence trailed off, unfinished. David didn't need to complete it. The implications hung heavy in the cold mountain air.
Nolan fell silent, his mind working through the possibilities. It seemed that if nothing else happened, there should be an accident. A group of rebels who had resisted the enemy for years wouldn't become this lax in their stronghold's defense without reason. Something had gone wrong.
He turned his attention back to the team, voice cutting through the communication channel with crisp authority. "All stormtroopers, be vigilant and form a defensive formation!"
Without waiting for acknowledgment, he continued, issuing specific orders. "Executioner! Osprey! Sneak forward to investigate! Don't use the bolt gun to arouse the enemy unless necessary!"
The two named Stormtroopers moved immediately. Gao Qi and Osprey lowered their bolters, securing them to their armor with magnetic clamps. Their hands went instead to the large Catachan Fangs sheathed at their sides, drawing the massive blades. The weapons were comparable to machetes, dull-edged and brutal, designed for silent work.
Holding the sabers ready, both men engaged their power armor's stealth protocols. Servos quieted, steps became measured and careful. They moved forward toward the top of the steep hillside, ghosts in ceramite shells.
Behind them, Craig maintained position. The taciturn Stormtrooper kept his bolter raised, standing guard over the Bane brothers and the large supply box they carried. His helmet tracked left and right in smooth arcs, watching for threats that might emerge from the treeline.
Five minutes crawled by. The forest remained still, save for the whisper of wind through pine needles and the occasional creak of snow-laden branches.
Then Gao Qi's voice crackled through the communication channel, breaking the silence. "Chief, I judge that the situation may not be what we expected." A pause, weighted with something unspoken. "You'd better come and see for yourself."
Nolan's response was immediate. "Copy that, stay alert."
He turned his metal helmet, looking back at the three Stormtroopers behind him. His hand rose, fingers pointing forward in a clear advance gesture. Then he was moving, power armor carrying him up the slope with as much stealth as the massive machinery could manage. His boots found purchase on frozen earth and rock, each step calculated to minimize noise.
The climb took him higher, past gnarled trees and ice-slicked stones. Finally, he reached the top of the hillside where a large conifer tree stood sentinel.
Just below that tree, Gao Qi and Osprey knelt on one knee. Their helmets angled downward, focused on something at their feet. As Nolan approached, he could make out the shape, a short figure, curled up tight against the elements and the world.
Chief's helmet turned at the sound of Nolan's arrival. The Stormtrooper's voice came through the comm, brief and factual. "Chief, we found an underage child. He was still breathing weakly. He must have accidentally eaten a toxic plane, causing very serious food poisoning."
Nolan moved closer, nodding as he processed the information. Through his eyepiece, he looked down at the child huddled against the tree's base. The boy couldn't have been more than ten, dressed in clothes that were both shabby and desperately thin. No proper winter gear. No protection against the mountain cold. Just rags, really, barely holding together.
The child's skin had taken on an unhealthy pallor, lips tinged with blue. His breathing came in shallow, irregular gasps.
Nolan turned immediately, voice rising to carry back down the slope. "Gum, get out a dose of Panacea Powder!"
The complete panacea was too effective, its healing properties almost wasteful for minor injuries. So every Stormtrooper carried a full dose for emergencies, but Nolan had also ordered to grind additional panacea into smaller portions. Each capsule contained one-thousandth of a complete dose.
For food poisoning, even that fraction represented extravagant treatment. But it would work, and work quickly.
This had been intended as aid material, supplies to bribe and build trust with the resistance. Now it would serve a more immediate purpose.
Craig's reaction time was instant. His armored hand reached back, accessing the storage compartment built into his power backpack. Metal fingers closed around a small bottle containing the panacea capsules. He extracted it with careful precision.
Power armor servos whined softly as Craig moved forward, closing the distance in quick strides. Gao Qi and Osprey shifted positions, giving him room to work. Craig dropped to one knee beside the child, his bulk casting a shadow over the small form.
With surprising delicacy for someone encased in armor, Craig used his metal fingers to open the boy's mouth. The child's face was covered in blue-green vomit, evidence of his body's desperate attempt to purge the poison. Craig worked around it, tilting the head back slightly and pouring a single capsule of panacea past the boy's lips.
While the medicine worked, Craig conducted a quick physical assessment. His helmet's sensors scanned the child's vitals, measuring bone density, muscle mass, growth markers.
The results made him grimace inside his armor. He turned his head toward Nolan without rising from his kneeling position. "The boy should be about ten years old, but judging from his body growth, he should be in a state of malnutrition for a long time. If he is also a rebel, then with all due respect, leader, it is better for us to carry out the assassination and beheading mission ourselves. I'm afraid it's impossible to count on the rebels for a mission."
Nolan's response was measured, deflecting the assessment. "Gum, focus on the current situation and let's see what happens."
He didn't offer a clear answer to Craig's concerns. Instead, his attention fixed on the boy through his eyepiece. The child's face was already changing, color returning to pale cheeks. The panacea worked fast, neutralizing toxins and restoring balance to ravaged systems.
Pink bloomed across previously blue-tinged skin. Breathing deepened, became more regular.
The boy's eyelids trembled. Slowly, they lifted, revealing small green eyes that stared upward with complete blankness. He blinked several times, consciousness returning in stages. Confusion clouded his features as his brain struggled to process where he was, what had happened.
Then his gaze focused. He saw the black metal giants surrounding him, massive armored figures that loomed like walking monuments.
Everyone tensed slightly, waiting for the expected reaction. Fear. Panic. Screaming. That's what children did when confronted with the inexplicable and terrifying.
But the little boy didn't scream.
His blank expression shifted. Something hardened in those green eyes, a determination that had no business existing in someone so young. His small hands fumbled at his shabby clothes, digging into the fabric with clumsy urgency.
He extracted an old grenade, its metal shell worn smooth and shiny from constant handling. His thin arms shook as he raised it, holding the explosive device in front of him like a talisman.
His childish voice rang out, innocent and terrible at once. "The lackeys of the Fortunov family! The people of Latveria will never compromise... I, I am going to heaven to find my mother!"
Craig's metal palm shot forward faster than the eye could track. His armored fingers closed around the grenade, plucking it from the boy's small hand with ease. The child's grip offered no resistance, couldn't offer resistance against power armor's strength.
Craig weighed the grenade in his palm, feeling the balance. Something was off. He turned his helmet slightly toward Nolan, who had just leaned closer.
"Chief," Craig's voice carried dry amusement. "It's just a dumb bomb with the gunpowder inside extracted."
Nolan nodded, the gesture automatic. But his focus remained on the boy through his eyepiece. He watched as the child's brave facade began to crumble. The little boy's lips started to tremble, pouting outward. Tears gathered in those green eyes, welling up from some deep reservoir of grief and fear.
Nolan's voice emerged, precise and deliberate. Each word measured and clear.
"First, we are not lackeys of the Fortunov family! We fight for humanity!"
He held up a second finger. "Second, you possess the highest quality a human being can obtain, which is the courage to die heroically." His tone softened, just slightly. "For the sake of this courage, I am willing to help you chop off the heads of a hundred enemies so that you can commemorate your mother."
A third finger rose. "Thirdly, as a little man who likes to blow himself up..." His voice hardened again. "Hold back your tears and snot!"
The boy stared up at him, frozen in place. His shabby sleeve had already risen to his face, wiping at the tears and mucus that had begun to flow. For a moment, he seemed to process what he'd heard.
Then everything broke at once.
The low sobbing that had been building in his chest exploded into uncontrollable wailing. The child's small body shook with the force of it, all that carefully constructed bravery dissolving into the raw grief of a traumatized ten-year-old who had tried to blow himself up with a useless grenade.
Silence fell among the Stormtroopers. Every eye turned, focusing on Nolan's tall, armored back. No one spoke. No one moved. They simply stood there, witnesses to their leader's particular brand of comfort.
The boy's wails echoed across the mountainside, carrying through the cold air, a sound of pure release and devastating sorrow.