“I’m sure we’ll discover many things, agent.” Cross replied, with a cold, predatory stare. I don’t know how or why, but I swear I’ll find out.” “I know what it’s like to lose someone I care about, I won’t let it happen again.” “No.” He leaned in close to whisper in Smythe’s ear. Suddenly she felt a hand touch her arm, gently urging her to lower the gun. “Not if you’re working for them.” Smythe replied with cool determination, her own pistol focused right between Cross’ eyes. “So it’s insubordination then?” Cross replied coldly, gaze and gun narrowed at the woman who stood against him. I’ve read the things you’ve done, and I will not let you take him.” I looked at your background Cross, no wonder your family and comrades disowned you. “Agent Pickard is under my care and has gone above and beyond for the cause. “You shouldn’t have survived, and we need to know why.” He snapped his head back to Smythe, who was furious. Agent Pickard’s exosuit wasn’t working as designed and malfunctioned during the battle.” He snapped his head toward James, who was stunned by the revelation. “He was my friend, and I’ve known him far longer than you. “You have no idea what Sykes would have done!” Cross snapped at Smythe with a snarl, as with a snap both sides of suits and soldiers drew their weapons at each other, Cross aiming at Smythe, who was aiming at him. “What?” Smythe growled, gripping the handle of her pistol “He fought harder than anyone else and you just want to imprison him?” She turned to Cross “And you agreed to this? You may be happy to throw away the lives of anyone that isn’t you but Commander Sykes would neve-” We want to take Agent Pickard into temporary custody both for his own safety and for the safety of others to debrief him and run some tests.” We have read the reports on Agent Pickard and have found them to be….extraordinary. “I am Rear Admiral Doyle of the United States Navy, and part of the joint command of this operation. “We’ve not met face to face yet Agent Smythe.” He replied in a professional drawl of a Texan accent. What are you playing at Cross?”Ĭross moved to answer before the uniformed man beat him to it. “Who are these people? They’re not V.I.P.E.R personnel. “We need you to come with us” Cross told James with a cold voice. The suits looked nervous and ready for action. “Yes?” James replied uneasily staring at the two men. The group stood up and looked around to see several men in suits flanking Cross, who was now acting V.I.P.E.R Commander and another man dressed in navy blue military fatigues. But Oberon could strike at any time from anywhere… At least with the others it was obvious where they were. The Lord of Secrets seemed less interested in taking physical territory, and was very capable in infiltration, and that made him very dangerous. ![]() James had constant nightmares about him since London, about what he could do. The successful ones that had taken over entire countries and regions of the world would be more difficult to fight. There were others that were arguably much, much worse. He had made peace with the fact that there would unlikely be any remains to be found of Jessica and their child, but at the very least she was avenged, and Mog’thar’s monstrous crusade had been stopped.īut Mog’thar was only one Demon Lord. Mog’thar was dead, the weight on his soul lifted somewhat and for that he was thankful, but he knew it wasn’t over. Pickard didn’t say much, mind still wrapped around what had happened. They had worked tirelessly for the rest of the night, treating the wounded and recovering the bodies as best they could under the direction of Smythe, who had stepped up to the chain of command well, and had earned some rest. Others still wanted news of the remainder of Mog’thar's forces, frightened that they would reorganise and attack their homelands nextĪmongst the chaos Pickard and Smythe sat together with a few of their friends from V.I.P.E.R and Viking Squad, the latter waiting for orders from what remained of the Icelandic government. Several forces had gone rogue to help their NATO allies against the decree of their governments, and so simply waited for judgement. Everyone had been united by the bonds of camaraderie and grief, and nobody knew what would happen next. Americans sat with Germans, English at meals alongside French, Canadians were sharing stories as Norwegians, Belgians and Dutch sat in rapt attention. Cleanup teams were still trawling the battlefield for survivors amidst the sea of bodies. Of the soldiers and volunteers that had fought, almost a third had perished in the conflict, mostly under the waves of suicidal orcs and goblins, but others taken out by dragons, succubi and Mog’thar himself. It was a hollow victory for the troops as the sun rose to greet the new day.
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