Blood. That was all he could smell and see as he looked around. Huge robot suits – the tools known as Clanks – littered the battlefield, their pilots dead or dying. With a pained groan, he pushed himself to a sitting position, trying to remove his helmet. With a hiss, the sealed environment in the helmet vented, allowing the horrible stench of the dead around him to filter in.
“Damn it all. Orion! Orion...” He turned around, the massive Atlas Heavy Clank he had once strode across the ground in watching him, its legs and arms, as well as the secondary head-mounted cannon, in many pieces.
“I-I a-am too b-badly damaged f-for further c-combat. AI chip eject initiated.” With a click, a glowing green chip landed on the man's lap, the stamp 'ORION' clearly visible as he leaned back and rested against the old Clank that had saved his life.
“We've got a live one! Sir, there's a live one over here!” The man perked up, trying to wipe some of the blood from his hands. Weakly, he tried standing up, only for his legs to short out and collapse. He looked up to see two heavily armored troopers clambering over the nearby wrecks and trying to get closer to him. The man reached to his side, drawing out a handgun as he took aim at the two. When they noticed he had drawn a weapon, their hands raised in a gesture of non-combat.
“Oi! We're trying to save you! Just hold on!” The blood ran thick from the man's hand as he looked at the gash on his left arm. The two soldiers slid into position, one dragging out a sturdy nano-bandage to implant into the wound. With a jolt, the man sat upright, the electricity restoring to his legs as the other soldier welded broken parts together. Standing up, he looked at the two of them, nodding as he observed the battlefield.
“You two think we lost this one? I mean, we did sort of stop the enemy invasion,” he whispered, his eyes drawn to every friend he had made lying dead in what could have been considered a mass grave. One of the soldiers removed his own helmet, looking over.
“They'd call it a pyrrhic victory, Colonel Miller, sir. A victory at too great a cost.”
0--------/|0|--------0
Miller sat up straight, the sweat pouring from his brow as he looked around. Orion's AI chip still hung around his neck from a piece of cloth taken from a fellow Clanker – a Clank Pilot – when he had walked amongst the dead for a time. Glancing around, he looked at the night sky, the stars clearly visible even through the thick clouds that blanketed most of the Earth. Turning himself on the bed, he reattached his legs, letting them click into their sockets as he proceeded to stand. A tiny Clank sat outside, the chevron underneath a black 'I' indicating his service with the Independence Coalition, the last remnant of truly free men and women on the Earth.
“Someday I'll pilot another Atlas, stride the Earth once more like a God of War, Orion, and on that day, you will live again,” he whispered to the AI chip around his neck, smiling until he glanced at his watch.
“Oh no. James, Browley! Up and at 'em! We're an hour late for checking in with the General!” Private Mark James and Corporal Isaac Browley sat up, their heads slamming into the bed above and the ceiling respectively. With a growl, they looked at Miller, who simply stared back and smiled. With a mumbled greeting, the two got out of bed, strapping their combat gear on as they tried, and failed, to drink the day-old coffee that had been left on the cabinet that passed for their dresser.
“Still can't believe we got saddled with Long Haul, eh, Browley?” Browley smiled, punching James in the shoulder, eliciting a chuckle from the latter. Miller smiled at them, reaching over and placing a small chip inside the music player currently stuck to the wall as he flexed his arms to stretch the muscles in preparation for the move they would have to do.
“Long Haul's no pushover, James. Better straighten yourself, and watch out!” James punched him in the shoulder as well, pushing him as he tried to straighten his tactical vest, finally ending with his enviro-helmet. Miller smiled as he slid his own enviro-helmet on, absent-mindedly rubbing the AI chip hanging around his neck. Sliding his jacket on, he looked in the cracked mirror above their sanitation equipment. His head was still unerringly bald, as was typical of all Clank pilots – something about the cybernetics process removing the ability for the head to grow hair, which included nose and ear hair, strangely enough – while James' head was framed by a shock of unruly brown hair, while Browley preferred a simple high-top military haircut that framed his dark face. Turning around to the other side of the room, Miller tapped a keypad on the wall, backing away from the cracking plaster as a screen activated, the bearded, bald face of General Michael Newton appeared, staring down at them intently.
“You're late, soldiers.”
“Sorry sir. Long patrol yesterday, and most of our clocks stopped functioning as of last night during our brief communications blackout,” Miller stated, keeping himself standing straight and still. General Newton was notorious for being a hardass, and it reflected in how he dealt with Miller and his team. He pinched the bridge of his nose, smiling when he returned to looking at the team in front of him.
“This time, it's not that big of a deal. However, we're detecting massive amounts of energy, energy which seems to be similar to the abilities of the invaders you three may remember quite well,” General Newton explained, the smile fading as he returned to the matter at hand, his eyes never leaving the team, “and the rest of the Military Council is concerned that it could be a repeat of a year ago. Humanity is nowhere near prepared for any sort of war, while the WTO and the Shogunate refuse any communications with us. We've detected similar energies near Trader territory, and in Asia in the deadzone there.” General Newton leaned back, looking at the group of soldiers. Miller was the first to speak, a waver to his voice as the memories he didn't want to remember came to the surface.
“H-How far is that energy signal from where we currently are? How far!?” Miller shouted, all hesitation gone, though he was still somewhat afraid. He knew what those invaders could do to pilots, causing their bodies to explode inside their Clanks, coating the inside with their internal organs. He had great respect for the cleanup crews who scraped the Clanks clean so that at least something could be buried. General Newton was about to speak again when a piece of paper was handed to him.
“Urgent news. We've triangulated the energy signal, and it seems to be coming from a place twelve klicks north of your position at that old power plant. Investigate, and report back. Do not engage if it is Invader activity, otherwise you might just spark a war that humanity will most definitely lose. General Newton out.” The screen shut down, leaving Miller with eyes as wide as saucers as he looked at James and Browley. Browley lifted his rifle, pulling back the slide to charge the pulse chamber.
“We're right behind you, sir. Just point us in the right direction.” With a smile, Miller threw open the door to their sleeping quarters, walking towards the entrance to their little compound, where his Clank, THOR-1, lay in its containment carrier. With a whistle, the carrier opened, the ball torso of the Clank – an Independence Coalition Army Mech Marine – walked out, the Vulcan autoguns on either arm test spinning while the reactive armor plating swiveled around in front of the main eyepiece for the suit. The 105 millimeter cannon slid up and locked in place before THOR-1 knelt down, the cockpit opening.
“All right, men. Get to your APC, and we'll get headed north. THOR, begin sync.” Small mechanical arms reached for Miller as he was lifted into the Clank, his cybernetic legs being removed carefully before the sockets which had held them previously were slotted into areas in the bottom of the cockpit, locking into place.
“THOR-1, online. All systems online.”
“Good. Activate synchronization for human/machine sensory crossover.” With a jolt, the link fully connected to his sockets, the feeling of legs returning as he connected fully with the Clank. A smile crossed his face as he took a tentative step, feeling the massive leg take a step. Reaching his arms up, he grabbed the harness for the arms and the head-mount, making sure the wiring was locked in properly to the control chip in the base of his neck.
“You're looking good from out here, sir. Looks like you've got full synchro now. We'll be along shortly,” Browley stated as he looked over at James, the latter giving him a thumbs up as he strapped himself in for the unenviable task of playing technician for what was one of the most advanced pieces of military hardware available to grunts like them.
“Meet you at the waypoint, gentlemen.”
“All right, sir. Browley, let's get this party bus rolling, shall we?”
0--------/|0|--------0
The four hour travel to the waypoint laid in for them by General Newton had been uneventful, except for the times that any member of the three-man team had to stop to relieve themselves. It was decidedly more awkward for Miller, as he had to wait a considerable amount of time while his cybernetic legs were reattached before running off into the bushes, his face a look of pain before a groan of relief exited the area he had stopped in, the only light he had coming from the lamps mounted on THOR-1's chassis.
The waypoint led to some rather strangely intact structures, though Miller could not place what they were supposed to be. The straw roofs reminded him of the time his father had taken him to a historic European Village, preserving ancient ways that barely anyone practiced any more, where technology was reduced to a more primitive standpoint. The viewpoint switched to infravision, showing four heat signatures, clearly not moving while he moved closer. An IFF alert triggered, displaying the information for Browley and James' APC coming around.
“Took you both long enough. We've got four heat signatures. Can't tell what they are at this range, but from the size, highly doubtful we're dealing with an Invader threat,” he stated before looking back at a gauge behind him, whistling at the readout. “This is definitely the place. Disabled teleport markers all over the place.”
“Let's get a closer look then.” Miller set the autoguns into standby mode, keeping the barrels spinning slowly so the windup would not take as long. Targeting solutions were being constantly shown, in case of hostile intent. THOR-1 slowed its pace down as it tromped closer, the lamps shutting off as to not spook whatever was there. Before he got there, he stopped, noticing one of the heat signatures was gone.
“Browley, James. One of the heat signatures is gone- what on- ow!” He felt a rather powerful blow slam into THOR-1's left leg, causing the Clank to slowly fall to one side.
“Miller, it's Browley. Whatever attacked you... it dented your leg.”
“Come again.”
“Sir, it freaking dented your leg. It's organic, but it dented your damn leg!” Miller sent out a ping, trying to determine any hostile contacts, until the ping signalled for something directly below him. Cursing the main weakness of Clanks silently, he gritted his teeth, before smiling.
“THOR, I hate doing this, but tuck and roll!” With a leap, the Clank slammed into its back, the 105mm cannon breaking in the process. It stood up, turning around to get a clear view of what had attacked it. Switching back to a normal view, THOR-1 turned on its spot-lamps, illuminating the creature that had attacked it. Miller had to stop himself before he revved the autoguns.
Whatever it was, it was red, had an orange... mane, was it?
It was a pony. It was an animal of an extinct species.
“Sir, we're getting the same camera data! How did one of those survive the Invasion?” Miller did not respond, only tapping buttons to unlock himself from THOR-1.
“Release sockets. Activate resealant for cybernetics. Open cockpit hatch.” Miller was lowered to the ground, a rifle being tossed to him by Browley, while James stood on the APC, his sniper rifle's laser sight clearly visible in the dark. Turning on the rifle's flashlight, he moved in closer, kneeling down before seeing that it was clearly in pain. Looking back at the pony's rear legs, he noticed that a piece of metal had become lodged in one of the hooves. Sighing, he waved Browley over, pointing to the metal.
“Sir, I'm a medic, not a vet.”
“I'll hold it still, just get the damn thing out of its leg!” Browley complied, while Miller stroked the pony's mane. With a whinny, the metal was yanked out, the wound being packed with a nano-bandage, with a spray-sealant to protect against infection.
“Yeeow! What in tarnation?!” Miller stopped, looking directly at Browley, who was just as confused.
“H-Hello?”
“Let go o' me. I ain't no invalid!” Miller looked down to see the pony staring up at him with anger in its eyes. Backing up quickly, he watched Browley follow suit, the pony shakily standing on its four hooves, until pain forced it to sit.
“Wait, you can talk!?” The pony looked back at the houses, sighing.
“Eeyep. Don't like to talk much, though. Wait... you're them... Human folk the princess was talkin' bout, ain'tcha?” Browley and Miller looked at each other, about to speak when James came running up.
“Sir, the other three, they're awake. Also none too happy to see big ol' THOR-1 there. Something about it drives them something scared.” He knelt down, an eyebrow raising as he looked up at the ash sky. With a sniff, he looked back, the other three he had talked about entering the light. One was cerulean, with a two-tone yellow mane, while another had a dark blue coat, with a light blue mane. The third was the most unusual. Its legs had holes in them, and she appeared to be rather unwelcome to the other three.
“You... you can help us, right?” The blue one spoke to Miller, her eyes wide as she looked him up and down. At least, from the voice, Miller assumed it was a female.
“Lady, I would love to drop everything and help you, but you're about 11 years too late.” The others looked at the red one, their eyes widening at Miller's response. Thinking something was about to happen, Miller activated the sound-proofing on his helmet, although it did not help much against the sonic tirade that occurred.
“11 years?!”
Author's Note
I dropped Age of Clank a while ago, removing the story because it was not... good enough. It was done in the time I was in College, which meant I was trying to focus on too many things at once.
However, I remade the world, creating the world of Dead Earth.
Now, if anyone really understands how I think, something INTERESTING might come up.
Also, yes, Browley and James are names I chose. Browley was a typo, though I can't remember what the names were originally supposed to be.
Anyways, I'd love some criticism!
Chapter 1 - Wrong Place, Wrong Time
Jacob sat off to the side of the APC as the sun rose, stretching as he woke up. Browley had taken the night watch, and it was his turn to take over from the corporal. With a push, he stood up, the mechanics in his legs whirring as they stiffly warmed up. Browley sat still, staring at the sky as clouds passed overhead, absent-mindedly cleaning the parts of his disassembled rifle. James slowly woke up, immediately scrambling as he saw the blue pony draped across his knees. Drawing his sidearm, he aimed carefully before sliding back into its holster. The black pony stood off to the side, frowning. From how it looked compared to the blue one, Jacob surmised it was a female, and stepped carefully, the whirring servos of his legs attracting her attention.
“P-Please don't-”
“Didn't mean to startle you. I just need some information. Honestly, this situation is beyond anything we've encountered, and the Shadow War was something no one was even certain was happening until it was too late.” He sat down, patting his hand beside him as he looked up at the sky, the red of the ash still in the atmosphere tinted orange by the rays of the sun. The black pony timidly sat down beside him, looking away as she stared at the other two, the red stallion looking after the blue pony. Jacob patted her back, causing her to sit ramrod stiff in fright.
“You're an outcast, aren't you?”
“W-What makes you-”
“You're incredibly nervous around them, and they seem rather suspicious of you. What can you tell me of your world? I mean, what's left of it.” The black pony sighed, lying down to relax. Jacob put his hand between her ears, scratching slightly, to the chagrin of the pony being scratched.
“Equestria, well, it's a beautiful place. Or, it was. My kind were outcasts, though it didn't help that I tried to take over Equestria at one point. You attempt world conquest once, and everypony hates you for it.” She let Jacob continue to scratch her head, sighing as she looked out at the landscape in front of her. Jacob sighed, removing his hand so he could sit down beside her.
“Earth used to be beautiful, too. Clear rivers, green landscapes, and old roads you could drive on for hours and just have fun,” he confided, looking at the sky. “Used to have blue skies, too. Seattle's an irradiated wasteland right now, and New York is a miserable place filled with the burned shadows of former residents.” He lifted a cigarette out of his pocket, running a match along his leg before lighting it up. With a puff, he looked up at the rising sun, sighing once more.
“You humans seem to relax a little too much.” Jacob turned, looking directly at the cerulean... mare, he believed, staring at him as he quietly smoked. Raising an eyebrow, he motioned to the ground.
“Take a seat. Can't really do much until we get our new orders, and that most likely won't be for a while.” He took another puff before slamming the butt into the dirt with his thumb. He was about to say something else when Browley came running up.
“Captain Miller! General Newton wants to talk to you immediately! From the urgency of his voice, I'd say it's Level 1 Priority!” Jacob lifted himself to his feet, the servos in his legs protesting as they were moved from their more comfortable position.
“All right, Browley, I'll bite. What's this all about?” A voice over his radio answered his question as he stood still, his face a blank expression.
“Captain Miller. You are to take your team and head one hundred and twenty clicks south by south-east. We have detected another set of energy signatures, and they match those of the creatures you have. However-”
“I need to be mindful if it's Invader activity.”
“Precisely. Sending coordinates now. Good hunting, Captain. General Newton, out.” Miller sighed as he rubbed his forehead, sinking down beside the pony-creature he had been sitting beside. Looking up at the sky, he pulled out and lit another cigarette, frowning.
“The chances that it's more of your kind is one to a million odds. Honestly, I'm betting on more Invader activity. Of course, if it's Invader activity, we're more or less screwed, in both the metaphorical and literal sense.” His hand tensed up as he held it up, bringing memories of old pain to his mind.
The bodies... they looked like they had been exploded from the inside out. The Invaders, no, the Shadows, yeah, that was what they were called, would either possess or kill you. They could overshadow technology, making it a part of their collective grouping, or burn away your very identity and make you a simple puppet, playing at being human but having lost your life at the moment of synchro with an enemy intelligence. That was why they were so dangerous.
“Still thinking about it, sir?” James stood off to the side, his words partially muffled by the vaccuum-sealed ration he was eating. From the scent of it, it was spaghetti and meatballs. Miller raised his eyebrow, to which James tossed him a bag. Smiling as he looked at the description, he tore it open with his fork, eating it thankfully. After taking a few bites, he swallowed, sighing.
“You can't stop thinking about something that took a lot from your life, Private. We all lost a lot during that war. To see the Shadows in action... it was nightmares personified into a being unable to be rationalized by mortal intellect.” He took another massive bite, licking the fork as he smiled.
“At least our rations have improved. Could you imagine eating the old MRE rations?” Miller shuddered as James smiled, both beginning to chuckle.
“Yeah, no. I was told that even dogs refused to eat those things. Hey, pass around four more, would you? Make 'em, I don't know, vegetarian?” James returned to the APC, disappearing inside. The pony-creature beside Miller looked up, frowning.
“Why are you being so nice? I told you I tried to take over my world-”
“And you're not trying to kill, possess, or enslave me, so you're alright in my books.” James returned, holding four Iceberg Salad packs.
“All I could find, sir. Most of what we have is related more to protein than greens, for, ahem, specific reasons.” Miller rolled his eyes, whistling to get the attention of the other three. All three of them walked hesitantly over to where James stood with the salad packs, eyeing them hungrily.
“I figured you'd all be hungry, so I had my subordinate grab you some leafy greens.”
“Emphasis on the leafy part, don't know about the green.” Miller stabbed his fork through the package, tearing the seal off before shoving it under the muzzle of the creature beside him.
“Here. Eat. You'll be better off if-”
“My kind don't eat. Not the way you think.” Miller slowly retracted the salad pack, his eyebrow raising in a quizzical manner as he looked her up and down.
“Well, what do you eat?” To that question, her horn began lighting up, a pink stream of energy lifting from Miller's hand directly into her barrel. For a few seconds, Miller felt strange, as if he was connected with her for just a second.
Of course, a single second was enough to tell him exactly what he needed to know.
“You saw, didn't you?” Miller silently nodded at her question, his eyes wide as he turned and looked directly at James, who left quickly. He stood up, dropping his own meal pack and forgetting it as he walked back to the APC, climbing inside and sitting down, falling onto his side. Browley followed in afterward, patting Miller on the back.
“Colonel, I know that you can see things we can't, so, what on Earth did you even see?” Miller's eyes locked onto his, tears streaming from his silent crying.
“Isaac... I don't know what I saw. All I saw was death. Death and darkness. Just like-”
“A Shadow Invasion. Yes, I know what they were like. Remember, we were both in that war, Colonel.” Miller nodded, silently agreeing. His mind brought forth every painful memory that it could muster, all the friends and family he had lost to the invasion. He brought himself up to a sitting position, breathing slowly as he stood. His mind had stopped for the moment, allowing him some time to adjust.
“What on Earth would allow me to see that?”
“Some kind of latent psionic ability? Extraterrestrial tampering? A force outside of our limited perspective? Miller, don't focus on that right now. Focus on what caused it to happen in the first place. Figure it out. I'm not just your subordinate. I'm your friend. You can talk to me, 'cause I know for a fact what an ICA shrink would say.” Miller chuckled as he left the APC, Browley following close behind as he listened to his legs clank. The sun was definitely bright as it crested the nearby mountains, the light enough to temporarily blind him. With a whistle, he brought the ponies and the creature – changeling, his mind corrected, for some reason.
“All right, all of you! We're heading south by south-east in a minute, and we're going a fair distance. If you've got, hrm, business to do, I suggest you do it now, over in the safety of those bushes. Otherwise, we're heading down south now, and we don't have time to spare to stop. If either the Traders or Shogunate get there before us, we could be in big trouble.” Miller tapped THOR-I, the front hatch opening to grab Miller and begin the pilot insertion protocol.
“All right THOR-1, you know the drill. Begin synchronization for human/machine sensory crossover.” Once more, the jolt surged through his leg sockets, signalling the connection was a success. Reaching up, he grabbed the control harness, plugging the slot into the control chip in the back of his neck. With a clank, the pilot hatch shut, the viewscreen activating as he tentatively took a step forward, smiling as nothing was the worse for wear. His sensors came online, scanning for all nearby bio signs. With a sigh, he smiled. It was registering three equine, one extraterrestrial, and two humans.
“All right, Colonel! Everything's looking good! Power cell's a bit low, but there's a base on the way we can stop at. They should have more ammunition, and a place we can sleep that's not hard ground or metal APC interior.” THOR-1 stepped forward, crushing a tree as it crossed through the nearby bluff. Browley held his hand up to his eyes, shielding them from the morning sun. Whistling, he motioned to the APC.
“All right, all of you! Get inside! We've got a long way to go, and I'd rather not keep the Colonel waiting because someone forgot to use the bathroom!” Browley silently made a point to ask them if they had any names. They could talk, so that meant they were fairly intelligent, but the question still remained in his head.
What kind of world did they come from that the Shadows wanted so badly?
0--------/|0|--------0
Fifty kilometers of movement had been rather uneventful, although having to listen to Luna – the big blue horse-pony, James had noted – prattle on in a rather forceful voice about how their mission was incredibly important, and they needed to return to defend their world, was a little trying.
“Look, Luna, I know you're upset about this, but we don't have portal technology, nor does humanity have the resources to begin research of that magnitude. Besides, as your associate Miss Dust over there mentioned,” he stated, unaware that Lightning Dust – the cerulean pegasus, as had been made abundantly clear when he had asked – was still fast asleep, “You don't even know the coordinates of your homeworld. That, in of itself, prevents us from even locating a single data point to where we could even begin to understand how interdimensional transportation technology works!” He sat back, exasperated. Being the single science expert on the squad made everything a lot more difficult to explain, as he had to dumb everything down for them. For the most part, they understood, but the more technical parts of their technology was, for the most part, impossible to create actual analogues to. He felt rather envious of Colonel Miller, walking along in his giant robot suit like the Titans of ancient Greek legend.
“Look lively, Private! We’re coming in for a stop, and the Colonel is motioning to something he’s found! Go and assist, I’ll watch over the VIPs.” James nodded, lifting his rifle as he primed the accelerator inside. With a high-pitched whine indicating that it was charged and ready, he pounded on the metal behind Browley.
“Get the hatch open! I’m heading out!”
“Good hunting, Private. Hope it’s nothing too terrible.” James chuckled as he stepped carefully out of the back of the APC. They had long left the ruined buildings and makeshift homes far behind, the woods around them evident of the regrowth that was occuring in the former United States. Grabbing a radio and his pack from the containers on the back of the APC, James slid them on, jogging over to where Miller stood, whistling.
“Hey, Private.”
“Colonel. What have you found?” Miller knelt down, motioning James over to point in the dirt. Three bodies laid in a pile on the ground, the uniforms unmistakable. James grabbed the dog tags from one of them, looking closely. Miller nodded, looking back and around.
“Looks like Fifth Platoon. Poor bastards didn’t even stand a-” He stopped, James lifting his rifle to aim around. Movement echoed through the trees as James lifted Miller up.
“Sir, we have to get out of here. The wooded areas are-”
“Mostly unexplored. I’m aware, Private. Don’t- contact!” Miller drew out a pistol from the holster of a dead soldier, firing four shots off into the distance. A gurgling noise drew the attention of Browley, who poked his head through the top of the APC.
“Colonel, should I be concerned about what it is you’re shooting?” Miller waved his hands, the thundering footsteps of THOR-I a welcome sound as the Clank returned to the group. James hesitantly smiled, before slowly pushing through the brush to see what was actually moving. As he got closer to the noise, he detected what sounded like wind.
“Guys, I think we’ve got a-” His voice was cut off as something lashed at him, his eyesight darkening as he felt a wave of cold over his body. Reaching to his side, he fished around for his sidearm, sliding it quickly as he armed it, pushing the barrel against his chin. Almost immediately, his vision returned, a dark mist disappearing quickly into the distance. Browley came sprinting up, aiming around before helping James to his feet.
“James, are you all right? Your radio cut- oh God.” Turning to where Browley was looking, James almost puked at what he saw.
There, right in front of them, was something alien. Covered in heavy carapace, four legs, and a somewhat identifiable head, they stepped back before James fired off his magazine into it to make sure it was dead. Miller jogged up, the ponies following closely. Luna almost puked at the sight of the former pony in front of her. Lightning Dust slowly went up and poked it slightly, jumping back before she realized it was dead. Chrysalis stood stock still, her eyes wide as she looked at the former pony, her face twisted in a mask of fear.
Miller stepped forward, lifting the head slightly.
“We need to move, now. Where there’s one, there’s a hundred, and I would rather not fight your former comrades. Everyone, back to the APC!” Miller looked at Browley, nodding as Chrysalis slowly went up and knelt down before the corpse. Miller knelt beside her, looking down and frowning.
“Did you know who this was?” Chrysalis looked up at Miller in tears, her face twisted in a mask of pain and sorrow.
“His name. Like so many others, he was taken, only to fight against us as this… thing!”
“Chrysalis, what was his name?” She stared directly into his eyes, her pupils mere pinpricks.
“His name was… Shining Armor.”
