11-14-2011, 08:25 PM
I’ve always been a soldier, and soldiers follow orders. Except that’s not exactly how it works, is it? You follow orders, except when the orders themselves are faulty. But the difference between faulty orders that are to be disobeyed and solid ones that cannot ever be bent or broken is hard to discern. I was praised for my ability to improvise and adapt to changing situations, but those skills came from knowing when the orders were shot to hell and sticking with them would get me killed.
And then there was Ultimatum.
Ultimatum showed where the chain of command became a liability. If anyone had ever thought to ask the right questions, Ultimatum would never have existed. A top secret operation based out of Nevada, it didn’t “officially” exist. That would be a warning sign to almost anyone, but we were soldiers and we didn’t question orders. Everyone used code names, ensuring that none of us could identify each other, which made no sense unless they didn’t want us comparing stories and discovering past “disappearances” and “mysterious transfers” that never smelled right. But we didn’t question orders. We were so good, so well trained at not questioning orders, that we never figured out that we hadn’t been working for the government for a long time. That our orders were drafted by an extralegal conspiracy known as the Malta Group, just so they could recruit the best potential operatives for their own personal use, and recruit those that showed the proper attitudes openly. And following their orders, their tests of loyalty, nearly got me killed. The government disavowed me not because of my official “non-existence”, but because they genuinely didn’t know what I was doing out in that desert hellhole. If not for Melee, I’d have died back in that cave. If I’d been smart, and thought to question my orders then, maybe I could’ve at least died on my own terms.
But Ultimatum had thought of that. Their science experiment was what kept me alive when my body should’ve died. Their tech and their upgrades made me into a more efficient killer, but it also meant I could never go back to a normal life. Not as the freak they’d made me into, and it was clear they’d hunt me down if I tried. “Maelstrom” was too useful a tool to let slip out of their fingers. Once that became clear, I started questioning my orders...and saw the holes and lies. But there was nowhere on Earth I could run to that Ultimatum couldn’t find me...so when the opportunity presented itself, I ran to another Earth instead. Killing Melee was almost too easy to justify at the time. Tilman would’ve peeled his brain like a grape, and if I was going to keep the situation under control, keep us from setting off an interdimensional war, I needed a bargaining chip. Besides, I knew Melee. If he’d known how our slip up would’ve doomed Primal Earth’s defenses, he would’ve pulled the trigger on himself. I was just doing what I had to do. What he’d have wanted me to do.
But somewhere along the line, it stopped being a mission to protect Primal Earth from Praetoria. Somewhere along the line, I saw what the Emperor was doing within his empire. It was a paradise by any standard. No one starved, there was no constant danger. The constant threat of supervillain-induced havoc was held in check. There were cold, pragmatic decisions behind the scenes to ensure it stayed that way, but what government hasn’t had to make the hard choices for the greater good? Dealing with the Resistance, protecting Praetoria...it made me feel more like a hero than being a soldier ever did. Eventually, protecting Primal Earth from Praetoria became the other way around, because if I stayed here, maybe I could forget about the betrayals and disloyalty that haunted my past.
But things are never that easy, and when the time came to choose a side, I stayed with the one I thought was right. Primal Earth had never done anything but prove its own corruption and chaos. Perhaps Emperor Cole was really what it needed to finally bring all the pain and conflict to heel. I did what I could to grease the wheels. I targeted the weak points in order to bring down the whole before Cole’s army ever stepped through the portal. I fought other would-be heroes. I accomplished my objectives or retreated without giving them more information than possible if they managed to upset my operations. But all in all, I let them live. Perhaps it was soft of me, or perhaps I hoped that they, like me, would see what Emperor Cole could do for Primal Earth. That they would see what they could be a part of if they surrendered rather than fought. I knew it was mostly a vain hope, but I couldn’t be the only one that’d had the same doubts.
Maybe that was why I chose the Shining Stars as my target after Galaxy was destroyed. Thousands of new heroes were forming hundreds of new supergroups, but I picked the one that had a name I recognized. Twinshot. Rochelle, one of the few links remaining to my past since Ultimatum dried up and died. We were a lot alike once, but she got out when she had a chance, while I just sank deeper. And really... I wanted to save her from what was coming. What would happen if Cole stopped being merciful and came here himself to handle the problem his armies couldn’t solve? I gave her a chance to make the smart decision and come with me. She turned me down, but I still had a backup plan. She wouldn’t do it for herself; the girl had always been self-sacrificing like that. But if I made it a choice between letting her teammates be eliminated or joining with Cole, with one of her own on my side...
But that still failed. Instead of falling apart at the seams, the Stars stood together, which made them more than a match for the bumbling team of glory hounds that White had given me to use. Even a traitor in their midst hadn’t shaken them, and I felt the tiniest flicker of envy for what that must be like. But that wasn’t the part that felt the strangest. It was Rochelle. She hadn’t reacted like she did when we met in Galaxy. This was something else entirely. Her face went dead at the sight of me, and I could see the pieces click into place. I knew that she’d think it was my idea to use Proton like we did. And somehow, despite knowing that she’d be smart enough to figure out the entire plan when she saw me... it still hurt, seeing that look on her face. Anger was there, certainly, but most of all, the disappointment and disgust. She looked at me like a piece of grime she’d have to wipe off her shoes before it stained.
Now, as Primal Earth’s Incarnates rampage across Praetoria, demolishing the Emperor’s war effort and the support of the people, I wait for my orders. While they slowly tear apart the very things keeping Praetoria safe from the Hamidon, content to believe that they can defeat it as well, save Praetoria from itself if need be, I wait for the word to act. Wait...and wonder.
Why is it that I still see Rochelle’s disappointed expression when I’m not lining up a shot on a target? Why is it that the whispers spread by the Resistance that Cole may not truly have Praetoria’s best interests in mind linger in my thoughts more and more? I swore to protect Praetoria. I gave away any chance at a life back home, vowed to do whatever I had to do to keep these people safe. They need people like me, people like Cole, or the Hamidon will end everything. But why, in the face of the most dangerous threat to Praetoria short of the Hamidon itself, do I find myself with questions for the first time since I came here? Am I so weak that all it takes is one old friend being disappointed in me to make me waver? Would I have felt like this if Melee had survived? If he’d not agreed with the plan I’d come up with to keep Praetorian and Primal Earths alike safe? I don’t know, and I suppose I never will.
But in the end, it doesn’t matter. I made my choice. I can’t go back anymore.
...can I?
---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."
And then there was Ultimatum.
Ultimatum showed where the chain of command became a liability. If anyone had ever thought to ask the right questions, Ultimatum would never have existed. A top secret operation based out of Nevada, it didn’t “officially” exist. That would be a warning sign to almost anyone, but we were soldiers and we didn’t question orders. Everyone used code names, ensuring that none of us could identify each other, which made no sense unless they didn’t want us comparing stories and discovering past “disappearances” and “mysterious transfers” that never smelled right. But we didn’t question orders. We were so good, so well trained at not questioning orders, that we never figured out that we hadn’t been working for the government for a long time. That our orders were drafted by an extralegal conspiracy known as the Malta Group, just so they could recruit the best potential operatives for their own personal use, and recruit those that showed the proper attitudes openly. And following their orders, their tests of loyalty, nearly got me killed. The government disavowed me not because of my official “non-existence”, but because they genuinely didn’t know what I was doing out in that desert hellhole. If not for Melee, I’d have died back in that cave. If I’d been smart, and thought to question my orders then, maybe I could’ve at least died on my own terms.
But Ultimatum had thought of that. Their science experiment was what kept me alive when my body should’ve died. Their tech and their upgrades made me into a more efficient killer, but it also meant I could never go back to a normal life. Not as the freak they’d made me into, and it was clear they’d hunt me down if I tried. “Maelstrom” was too useful a tool to let slip out of their fingers. Once that became clear, I started questioning my orders...and saw the holes and lies. But there was nowhere on Earth I could run to that Ultimatum couldn’t find me...so when the opportunity presented itself, I ran to another Earth instead. Killing Melee was almost too easy to justify at the time. Tilman would’ve peeled his brain like a grape, and if I was going to keep the situation under control, keep us from setting off an interdimensional war, I needed a bargaining chip. Besides, I knew Melee. If he’d known how our slip up would’ve doomed Primal Earth’s defenses, he would’ve pulled the trigger on himself. I was just doing what I had to do. What he’d have wanted me to do.
But somewhere along the line, it stopped being a mission to protect Primal Earth from Praetoria. Somewhere along the line, I saw what the Emperor was doing within his empire. It was a paradise by any standard. No one starved, there was no constant danger. The constant threat of supervillain-induced havoc was held in check. There were cold, pragmatic decisions behind the scenes to ensure it stayed that way, but what government hasn’t had to make the hard choices for the greater good? Dealing with the Resistance, protecting Praetoria...it made me feel more like a hero than being a soldier ever did. Eventually, protecting Primal Earth from Praetoria became the other way around, because if I stayed here, maybe I could forget about the betrayals and disloyalty that haunted my past.
But things are never that easy, and when the time came to choose a side, I stayed with the one I thought was right. Primal Earth had never done anything but prove its own corruption and chaos. Perhaps Emperor Cole was really what it needed to finally bring all the pain and conflict to heel. I did what I could to grease the wheels. I targeted the weak points in order to bring down the whole before Cole’s army ever stepped through the portal. I fought other would-be heroes. I accomplished my objectives or retreated without giving them more information than possible if they managed to upset my operations. But all in all, I let them live. Perhaps it was soft of me, or perhaps I hoped that they, like me, would see what Emperor Cole could do for Primal Earth. That they would see what they could be a part of if they surrendered rather than fought. I knew it was mostly a vain hope, but I couldn’t be the only one that’d had the same doubts.
Maybe that was why I chose the Shining Stars as my target after Galaxy was destroyed. Thousands of new heroes were forming hundreds of new supergroups, but I picked the one that had a name I recognized. Twinshot. Rochelle, one of the few links remaining to my past since Ultimatum dried up and died. We were a lot alike once, but she got out when she had a chance, while I just sank deeper. And really... I wanted to save her from what was coming. What would happen if Cole stopped being merciful and came here himself to handle the problem his armies couldn’t solve? I gave her a chance to make the smart decision and come with me. She turned me down, but I still had a backup plan. She wouldn’t do it for herself; the girl had always been self-sacrificing like that. But if I made it a choice between letting her teammates be eliminated or joining with Cole, with one of her own on my side...
But that still failed. Instead of falling apart at the seams, the Stars stood together, which made them more than a match for the bumbling team of glory hounds that White had given me to use. Even a traitor in their midst hadn’t shaken them, and I felt the tiniest flicker of envy for what that must be like. But that wasn’t the part that felt the strangest. It was Rochelle. She hadn’t reacted like she did when we met in Galaxy. This was something else entirely. Her face went dead at the sight of me, and I could see the pieces click into place. I knew that she’d think it was my idea to use Proton like we did. And somehow, despite knowing that she’d be smart enough to figure out the entire plan when she saw me... it still hurt, seeing that look on her face. Anger was there, certainly, but most of all, the disappointment and disgust. She looked at me like a piece of grime she’d have to wipe off her shoes before it stained.
Now, as Primal Earth’s Incarnates rampage across Praetoria, demolishing the Emperor’s war effort and the support of the people, I wait for my orders. While they slowly tear apart the very things keeping Praetoria safe from the Hamidon, content to believe that they can defeat it as well, save Praetoria from itself if need be, I wait for the word to act. Wait...and wonder.
Why is it that I still see Rochelle’s disappointed expression when I’m not lining up a shot on a target? Why is it that the whispers spread by the Resistance that Cole may not truly have Praetoria’s best interests in mind linger in my thoughts more and more? I swore to protect Praetoria. I gave away any chance at a life back home, vowed to do whatever I had to do to keep these people safe. They need people like me, people like Cole, or the Hamidon will end everything. But why, in the face of the most dangerous threat to Praetoria short of the Hamidon itself, do I find myself with questions for the first time since I came here? Am I so weak that all it takes is one old friend being disappointed in me to make me waver? Would I have felt like this if Melee had survived? If he’d not agreed with the plan I’d come up with to keep Praetorian and Primal Earths alike safe? I don’t know, and I suppose I never will.
But in the end, it doesn’t matter. I made my choice. I can’t go back anymore.
...can I?
---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."