Warning: What ain’t mine, ain’t mine. Do I need to keep reminding everyone?

Beatdown Rage

Chapter 9 – One Down, Stop the Planes!

Spetember 27th, 2025, The Rage Hideout

“When are we gonna stop them?” asked Gerrard. “We don’t want their planes arriving!”

“We will go soon. But not you, you’re still not recovered,” informed Mara.

“What the FUCK!” shouted Gerrard, as he pounded his fist on a small table. “The Commonwealth has some fuckin’ Clean Nukes, we can’t go in short-handed.”

“But I am here,” said Mirunesa.

“You’re green!”

“I’m not, and I don’t see how my skin color has anything to do with it.”

“I mean you’re inexperienced. You’d need the leader to help you. And..” he got up. “You expect me to just sit here?” He ran towards the door, and stumbled.

“What did we tell you?” asked Mara. “In this state, you could be killed, and then you’d be completely useless!”

“I’m not used to sitting on the sidelines.”

“Everyone has to do it. Why do football teams and basketball teams have reserves?”

“But this ain’t about a ball, this is about the fucking war, I’m not gonna see you die because I’m not there.”

“Would you rather see us die because you’re injured and we have to get you out of there? Would you be able to forgive yourself if anything happened to me? What would Amelia think?”

“Ouch,” said Gerrard.

“We don’t want you smashed-down, Smashdown.”

“I’ll lead the group into battle,” volunteered Timu.

“Nice try. No way man, it’s Mara, or Sunstorm who’s doing it.”

“Why?”

“You’re intelligent, but you’re not enough of a people person. And you still have a beef against Tigran for no good reason!”

“You always bring that up!”

“No, YOU bring it up most of the time.”

“I care about my sister, I can’t have them falling in love like that. He’s not right for her!”

“You’re just upset because he has no wings and he’s Armenian,” suggested Mirunesa in accented Ai’a’ive. “He is no threat to your sister.”

“My sister needs to be protected all the time, her virtue must stay intact until the right man with the right wings comes. And yes, I hate him.”

“I DO speak the same language,” reminded Fetu. “You’re too stubborn, you know that?”

“Say that,” he said in English, “when you have a bunch of babies with “ian” in their last name coming out of you like an assembly line.” Tigran slapped his forehead in disbelief.

“QUIET!” shrieked Mara. “This is stupid. And you’re just showing Gerrard why you’re incompetent at leading. You have a head on your shoulders, use it. And I don’t want one of those bombs to go off because you were more concerned about who MIGHT want to shag your sister than what armed crackpot has to be stopped. Now apologize to Tigran.”

“This is an insult.”

“She’s the leader now, so do it,” warned Gerrard. “Or do you want your ass kicked later?”

“I’m sorry,” said Timu, as he walked towards Tigran.

“That isn’t sincere enough, say it like you GOT A PAIR!”

“I’M SORRY!” screamed Timu, as he dropped to his knees.

“Get yourself in line, we’re all on the same team here. We’re not the early Wild Cards.”

“Maybe I am too stubborn,” mused Timu. “And maybe I should calibrate the tuner, I think I remember one of the Commonwealth frequencies.”

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Grand Bend

Georgia walked up to a monitor. She pressed a button. An elderly Pavonian woman appeared on the screen. “You rang, Sorceress Obo?”

“That’s Anakoq. Not that you know what that means. I have important news. The MiGs will arrive earlier than expected. Your team will attach them, and then they will make strikes against important targets. There is no radiation, but they are powerful, that is what I’m told gives them the Nuke in their name.”

“How big a blast?”

“A big blast. I am only saying what I have been told about them, I’m an Anakoq, not a bomb-maker.”

“No prob.”

“But there may be a problem, if someone should steal the bombs before the Migs arrive.”

“Who’d done do that? The Glocks have no idea.”

“But the others? You will do everything to keep the bombs safe, Georgia!”

“Yes ma’am!”

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Groombridge Plaza

Groombridge Plaza was a major complex in the main “downtown” of Nu’u Sara. Its key buildings were five office buildings, a shopping mall, and a stadium. This stadium, The Ian Groombridge Field, was modeled after the Toronto Skydome. And like the Skydome, it had a retractable roof. Said roof slowly opened, as motors screeched. A shadow receded from a large red form. The Red Zeppelin. The large red zeppelin-shaped spaceship slowly ascended.

“I’m glad you have that tunnel,” said Mirunesa.

“We knew we’d get some form of flying transportation sooner or later,” replied Timu. “This way we have a convenient location to launch it. It’s under MICE surveillance!”

“This is the way to travel,” added Mara.

“It will be smooth sailing,” added Fetu.

“Keep a look out, there’s at least five groups that want to blast our asses apart.”

“Are there any weapons?”

“Tuafafine, you’re asking ‘are there any weapons?’” snided Timu. “Up here it’s suicidal not to have them.”

“We need them,” said Mirunesa. “Our powers would not be enough. I will enjoy the Meadowlands.”

“It’s actually nicer when it’s not occupied,” commented Mara. “It’s farmland, meadows, a few towns and villages. The Northern Meadowlands belong to the city of Nu’u Sara, Southern Meadowlands does not, but it’s its own county. Most of the people here are from Canada and the US. And they call this one of Ai’a’ivea’s breadbaskets. My uncle Steve from Texas lives somewhere there. But I’m sure he can handle himself. He always knew how to fire a gun, and he once served in the Army.”

“Keep your eyes ready,” warned Timu.

“Yo, big shit, big shit, we’re bein’ attacked!” yelled a voice. On the screen was the face of a black man, wearing an oversized yellow and white cap. It was Rudy, the onboard computer. “Green fliers at twelve, three, six, nine, HIKE! Shit, one wants to speak!”

Another view screen came to life, showing a bearded man. “You are flying over Al-Harb territory, this is haram!”

“We don’t have any beef with you,” said Mara, “we’re takin’ on someone else.”

“That may be so, but you’re still Royalist. And I can see you have three winged demons with you. You are an INSULT to the glorious followers of Al-Kalipha Al-Kumre.”

“What did you call me?” demanded Fetu.

“You heard me, little demon girl, you’re an insult.”

“You’re an insult to your people.”

“Thanks to you,” added Mara, “you set back Western-Arab relations to about the time of the Crusades.”

“How DARE you, you Godless infidel!” yelled the man. “Now we shall attack, and we will make a monument out of your charred bodies!”

“Ok, shields up, guns ready, all of that,” ordered Timu.

“Sure thing,” replied Rudy.

A group of green-painted VTOLs swarmed around the Zeppelin, and attacked with missiles. Green and blue shields flashed to block them.

“You take the controls,” said Timu, “I know what to do.”

“What are you doing?” asked Fetu. She received no reply, as her brother walked down a passageway. She ran to a chair that faced a monitor. It showed crosshairs, and there was a joystick with a button. She aimed at the planes and fired.

“U-Wing deployed,” said Rudy.

“What’s a U-Wing?” asked Mirunesa.

“THAT!” said Tigran. Through a window, they saw a red ship with U-shaped wings. It was flying erratically, but then it stabilized and shot down a couple of planes with its blasts. “That is the man who hates me for no reason!” He went to a battle-station and targeted a missile at a couple of green fighters. “And those are the men who will have reason to hate me….NOW!” he yelled, as the missiles exploded at their target.

As soon as the last plane was destroyed, the U-Wing returned.

Timu ambled into the main lounge, shaky. “I’m not the best fighter pilot. I’m not Tom Cruise!” He collapsed onto a couch with a thud. He rolled off, fell, and then shuffled off to the washroom.

“I hope he gets over it,” quipped Mara.

“Well, he should,” suggested Fetu. “But when he was younger he was upset when he became airsick on a roller coaster. He had dreams of flying into gas giants to explore them. Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus…”

“Who’s ass would he be stupid enough to want to fly into?” demanded Rudy, “that shit reeks!”

“Uranus, not your anus. And he said Neptune.”

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The Factory, Grand Bend

Georgia heard a phone ring. She picked it up. “We’re coming,” said a voice.

“Who the darn is this?”

“We’re bringing you the planes,” came the reply. “They’re coming in!”

“That’s what I want to here, y’all!”

Georgia hung up, and walked through the main storage area, and to the main communications center. She activated the radar, and saw dots from the south. She smiled. There was a beeping noise. The radar was replaced by the Commonwealth of Crooks emblem, and then the face of a man. “Georgia, we’ve got something headed towards you. It took out Al-Harb planes like they weren’t there.”

“Maybe it’s just flyin’ elsewhere, don’t worry.”

“Our job is to worry, Georgia!”

“Let me see the radar.” It was shown. There was something headed towards them. “I’ll arrange a little Southern welcome!”

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The Zeppelin, Entering the Meadowlands

“The Meadowlands,” proclaimed Mara. “Give me land, lots of land, lots of land, DON’T FENCE ME IN!” She laughed at her bad singing. The others did as well. Below them were enormous fields, and farms, and the occasional road, railway, and village. “When this shit is all over, I want to take a nice long walk along the Meadow Trails. It’s nice.”

“Me too,” added Fetu.

“I also,” added Timu.

“I shall show you some of my powers,” said Mirunesa. She chanted, and spread her wings. They flashed, and then an image appeared. “This is what’s below us.” It showed the side of a road, with a sign indicating that the next right led to “Meadow Road 5.” Affixed to this was another sign. “This is Commonwealth Turf, Keep Your Nose Clean!” Ahead of that was a crude barrier of barbed wire, and a checkpoint station.

“They’ll pay,” said Sparkle.

“We’ll give them a good beatdown,” said Tigran.

On the image, there was a police van racing. It had purple and red lights flashing. The image ended then.

“I wonder who they’re after?” asked Mara.

“I’ve got news for you,” said Rudy. “US!”

Mirunesa recast the spell, and it showed the van opening, and two men and one woman with shoulder-mounted rocket-launchers egressed.

“I upgraded the lateral thrusters,” said Timu.

“And that means?” asked Fetu.

“That this vessel may quickly move horizontally if needed to evade hostile munitions.”

Just then, the Zeppelin lurched to the left, and a missile flew up and exploded nearby. In the vision, more armed troops appeared.

“This is not good,” said Mara.

“Tell us somethin’ we don’t know,” said Rudy. “Like are you good in bed?”

“Cut it out and save us!”

The Zeppelin avoided rockets fired at it, and released chaff and flares and fake radar beacons to throw off more of the missiles.

“Fetu, we have missiles to stop,” said Timu. “Tigran, make sure the defenses are in order.”

The two Ai’a’ive left before Mara could express surprise. She knew what it meant. Timu wanted to go to some place where he could stop missiles, possibly one of the leading hatches, normally closed in flight but openable, so he could shoot at the missiles. And he wanted Fetu, not necessarily for extra firepower, but because he didn’t want his sister to be in the same place as Tigran if he wasn’t there. She hated his stubbornness.

A door opened in the lowest floor of the Zeppelin. Timu had a pair of laser guns, and Fetu attacked with small blasts that exploded upon impact.

Fetu stared downards, and spread her wings. A bright glow emanated from her. It was unleashed, as she shouted “FIST OF TAGALOA!” A powerful explosion resulted when the projectile hit the police van on the ground, leaving burning wreckage and bodies strewn about the area.

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The Factory

Georgia had sent out the emergency signal. “Askin’ Assistance from all Commonwealth, all Commonwealth, this is mighty important!”

Lights flashed, and alarms blared.

-----------------------

A short distance away, amid trees, the Zeppelin landed, and the Rage exited.

“So where would they hide the bombs?” asked Mara.

“In a large complex,” explained Timu. “The most logical place would be the Citizen’s Machinery plant. It’s enormous, near a main highway, and best of all, near a section of street that could be used as an improvised runway for non-VTOL craft.”

“What’s VTOL?” asked Mirunesa.

“Vertical Take-Off and Landing.”

“Thank you.”

“Do any of you know the layout of Grand Bend?” asked Fetu.

“Yup,” replied Mara.

They walked through the town, that was surprisingly quiet. Grand Bend, technically part of Nu’u-Sara, but actually a world away from it, was one of the more important settlements in the Meadowlands. It had roughly 7,000 people. In this town, there were houses, a library, a bakery, a small shopping centre, several corner stores, a handful of restaurants and bars, seven churches, a clinic, a dentist’s office, a community centre, three elementary schools, Grand Bend Central (an important high-school for the region), a public beach along the Trillium River, a train station at either end, a farming supply store, a used auto dealership, and, of course, the factories. There were seven factories, all concentrated in the same area. The group quickly went through town, and came to an intersection that had the road leading to the industrial area. Signs in the area, like most of the Meadowlands, were mainly in English, except that important signs had Ai’a’ivean as well, where required by law. Mara remembered the times she visited Grand Bend. It was a nice town. She was rudely snapped out of her reverie by a bottle thrown at her.

The group saw a muscular man looking through an open window. He laughed at them, and pointed. Smoke erupted, and burnt rubber assaulted noses, as a set of blue cars screeched to a halt around them. On one of the cars was a blue rag with a light blue circle superimposed on it.

“Hey, ditch those losers, go out with me,” said someone from one of the cars.

“You don’t know why we’re here,” said Mara.

“WE FUCKING DO!” yelled someone else. “YOU WANT TO DIE. CRIPS FOREVER!”

“Yeah,” added someone else from among them. “We joined the Commonwealth for power, NOBODY will hold us Crips down. We are better than the Bloods, those Golden-Glock worshipping dip-shits.”

A loud truck horn blared. A pickup pulled next to the Crips. “Hey, did I say you could hunt on OUR land?” A trio of white men with sunburn necks came out. “We’re the Meadowbillies, and this is our land!”

“It ain’t!” said a Crip, “We are Commonwealth, just like you.”

“He got a point there, Bob,” said another one of the Meadowbillies, as they all exited. “Crips ain’t the enemy, it’s THEM who is the enemy!” He quickly pointed a rifle at Mara.

“Well, I am SUNSTORM!” she said, as fire engulfed her fists.

“I am Infin-8,” added Infin-8.

“Call me Sparkle!” She fired off a warning “shot” from her hand, that exploded as a firework in the sky.

“I am Vartan,” added Vartan, brandishing his sword.

“And I am Moonblossom!” Her wings flashed pink, and a pink forcefield briefly flickered around her.

“And your point is?” asked another Meadowbilly. They all wore jeans, hunting jackets and camouflaged baseball caps, and carried guns. “It was an emergency call! Georgia don’t like you.”

“Who is Georgia?” asked Infin8.

“It don’t matta,” said a Crip, who took out a grenade, “dead people don’t need to know nothin’!” He pulled out the pin and tossed it at the Rage. They scattered and hit the ground, as the grenade exploded.

“Owww, my wing,” screamed Moonblossom.

‘I can fix it,” said Sparkle, as she focused, and removed a piece of shrapnel from Moonblossom’s right wing. The others, meanwhile, were firing off blasts at the Commonwealth forces.

A pair of Crips wrapped bicycle chains around Sunstorm. Sunstorm started to glow, and the chains heated. The men let go. She broke free, and knocked the men down with fusion blasts. She herself was knocked down with a high-powered shot from one of the Meadowbillies.

“That’s what you get for getting’ in our business!”

Moonblossom leapt into the air, and focused. A small tornado appeared around the Meadowbillies, and tossed them around, making them drop their weaponry in the process. One of them crawled towards his shotgun as soon as he could. He reached out, only to have Vartan’s right foot stomp on it. He yelped.

“You think that hurts?” he asked, mockingly. He brought down his sword on the man’s back, laughing whil doing so. “Now THAT is pain.”

“Your witch ain’t gonna save you from the Crips, we’re bad, we’re tough, we got more class, we gonna git some hurt right up yo ass!”

“Tell me, how good are you at shooting into the air?” asked Infin8, as he flew up into the air, and twisted a knob on his blaster. He squeezed the trigger, and a controlled discharge bursted in several directions in sequence, blasting several of the Crips down to the ground.

Vartan and Sparkle rushed from opposite directions to finish the beatdown. All the blasted gangsters seemed to be easier to deal with. A man in a flak-suit and helmet, however, jumped out of the car and punched Vartan.

Vartan swung his sword and struck him. It glanced off. “You can’t hurt me Ahma that.” He struck Vartan with a punch to the stomach, before kicking him in the head. “But I can hurt you like that.” He looked at Vartan’s grimace.

“TIGRAN!” shouted Sparkle, as she rushed towards Ahma, and hit him with a multi-hit combo. It did nothing. She ducked a punch, and closed her wings. He punched, but struck a magical shield. She opened the wings, and fired feather-shaped projectiles at him. They only scratched him. He picked her up and held her high.

“I’ll just wring your neck!”

“BACK OFF!” shouted Sunstorm. She fired some blasts at him, but they were seemingly absorbed.

Moonblossom closed her eyes, and teleported so she was behind Ahma. “Guess who?” she asked, as she held her hands on the sides of his head, under his helmet. Her wings and eyes lit up, and electricity surged through his head. He screamed and shook, and let go of Sparkle, who landed with a thud. Moonblossom let go. Ahma slumped against a car and slid to the ground. “I believe the expression is, ‘I owned you, bitch!’”

“Fuck…you.”

The remaining forces were all neutralized, all lying hap-hazardly about. “I know where it is,” said Sunstorm, as she led the rest of the group. They came to a railroad crossing. “This track leads there.” She pointed to a building, they approached it. Birds chirped in the distance, and a breeze blew by them, rustling the clothes that the Ai’a’ive in the group were wearing.

“This is quiet,” mentioned Vartan. “Perhaps a little TOO quiet!”

“We’ll get our noise soon enough!”

They approached an imposing structure, best described as several enormous monochrome cube-like structures. The roofs were perfectly level, having no need to worry about a buildup of snow. A large Citizen’s Machinery sign stood in the middle of one of the walls, with spotlights attached nearby, so that all would know of their presence, even at night. Since the Commonwealth had control, there were banners with the Commonwealth symbol places to the left and the right of the Citizen’s sign. A smell of fresh pavement permeated the air as they approached. A freshly tarred surface nearby served as an impromptu runway.

“That must be where they intend to park the airplanes,” suggested Infin8.

“I will see,” said Moonblossom.

“You will see? Since when did you become an aviation expert?”

“Trust me.” She stood still, and held up her right hand. A glowing ball-shaped energy form appeared. She looked at it, while chanting. A cone of focused light pointed in one direction, and then she saw something. “Yes, there are planes approaching, we have to hurry.”

“Yes, let’s bust in,” shouted Sunstorm.

“Just let me do one thing first!” She pointed her right hand at the runway, and chanted. Her wings and eyes glowed, and large jagged rock formations formed on the runway. “Just in case we are delayed.”

The group went to one of the side doors. “STAND BACK!” Sunstorm launched a powerful fusion blast, ripping the door off its hinges. A bell rang. The group rushed in. The interior was pitch dark, save for a few glimmering red LEDs. “What the shit?”

The group looked around. There didn’t seem to be anyone. Moonblossom produced a small wand, and pointed it around. It was glowing. “This is a la stick,” she said. She pointed it around. “Are those…”

“Yes, they look like bombs,” explained Infin-8.

“I can make some light,” suggested Sparkle.

“You won’t not be needin’ that,” boomed the voice of Alberta, as intense arc-lamps activated. Georgia stood there, waving a shotgun. Meadowbillies and Crips stood around her, all with guns.

“Where’s the clickety-clicking?” asked Sparkle, “you know, to intimidate us?”

“I know it sounds like we’re traitors, but we Nu’u Sara Crips like to use GLOCK guns. They don’t do clickin’!” explained a Crip.

“An’ we have lasers also,” added a Meadowbilly. “An’ fully loaded shotguns.”

“We see you’re nice and nervous, an’ that’s GOOD!” chuckled Georgia.

“Are you just gonna kill us?” asked Sunstorm.

“We might. But first we’d like you to know, the first plane is about to…” A low roar made its presence known. It crescendoed, and it was followed by scraping, shaking, rumbling, and banging noises. “What the?”

“Oh, you didn’t guard the runway, I made something appear there,” said Moonblossom. “And you haven’t tied us up yet.”

“You’re gonna pay, we could just drill all of yous real good, and…” A wall creaked as part of a Mig aircraft pierced through it. The Crooks were momentarily distracted. Moonblossom spun around quickly, moving in a dancing like manner. “DANCE OF DISARMENT!” Bright lilac lights flashed, and the Crooks felt something weird, and they involuntarily opened up their hands, causing them to drop all their weapons. Sunstorm energized her fists, and hit a few men with punches that literally exploded. Vartan swung his sword in an arc, incising through the arms and chests of a few men who would have shot him, had they not dropped their guns. Infin-8 whipped out a laser pistol and fired, and Sparkle flung her firework-like attack at the various thugs and hillbillies. A low rumble echoed outside, and an emormous garage door opened. Outside, next to the wreckage of the crashed Mig, were some uncrashed ones. The strange obstructions on the tarmac were all but cleared away. Vartan ducked a machete before stabbing a Crip, and spinning around.

“We don’t appreciate what you done did to that other plane,” informed Georgia. “But there are still enough planes an’ enough bombs to blow everyone skyhigh!”

“But how will you get to the bombs? We’re in your way.” asked Vartan. Loud horns answered him.

“Watch out, armored forklift, coming through!” A squad of forklifts came rushing towards them, belching out diesel fumes all the while. There were vertical metal plates behind the lifting fork, and armor on the sides, as well as attached guns attached to the bottom of the blades. He leapt out of the way to dodge a pair of bullets, while whipping out a gun, and squeezing off several sizzling bullets. They harmlessly clattered off the shield.

Vartan ran towards one of them. The driver, a long-haired woman in a hardhat, leant out and shot him with a pistol. Sparkle flew over to him. “Forget about me, STOP THE FORKLIFT, I’ll live! HURRY!” She screamed, and spun around, and flew over to the forklift, where the driver was grinning, and the door was still open. She fire a blast that exploded with green plumes, throwing her out through the other door. The forklift, having a “dead-man’s pedal,” came to a stop. She rushed to Vartan, even though he was growling a bit.

Infin-8 ran between a couple of them. Guns were stuck through holes, and he took off as the gunfire was exchanged, resulting in friendly fire that, as they’d find out, wasn’t so friendly when being hit by it.

Sunstorm fired off fusion blasts at forklifts, destroying a couple of them, but their armor was reinforced.

Moonblossom pointed one of her hands at the ground, and chanted. A strange colorful pattern appeared. Three of the forklifts went towards her. “Hey, missy, stop your art and…” A powerful explosion went off when the vehicles went onto the seal, disintegrating them instantly.

A couple of forklifts returned, carrying bombs.

Georgia stood on an elevated platform, attached to the wall. “We’ll win,” she shouted, through a megaphone.

“If they get to the planes…” warned Infin-8. He flew up to the ceiling, and surveyed them. Georgia shot at him with a shotgun.

“It’s like shootin’ birds!”

“But do birds do THIS?” He fired at her with a laser pistol. She took cover. He flew down, and tossed a spherical device. It exploded in a flash of blue, and the vehicles stopped. “EMP, it works every time.”

Scores of Meadowbillies and Crips encircled the Ragers. Moonblossom lifted her hands, but was knocked to the ground with a pipe. Sunstorm was shot with a shotgun, as were Sparkle and Infin-8. Vartan dodged gunfire, and made his way through a throng of Crips with his sword. Meadowbilly gunmen surrounded his downed comrades.

“AWAY FROM THEM,” boomed Vartan, who appeared behind Georgia, with his sword aimed at her. “Away, or the bitch gets it.”

“You wouldn’t hurt old me, would ya?” asked Georgia.

“That ‘I’m a lady’ trick will not work on me.” Her henchmen dropped their weapons, without waiting for her to say so.

“You’ll idiots?” she asked. Before her men could reply, the Ragers had recovered, and scuffled with the Crooks, but the Crooks were overconfident. Little did anyone notice a forklift with a bomb start up, and take off towards the planes. Everyone looked in surprise. Georgia used the moment to elbow Vartan, and toss a smoke bomb. She escaped.

“I have the bomb,” said a familiar male voice.

“THIS WAY,” pointed Sunstorm. She and the rest of the Rage went to the plane. The canopy opened, and gunfire erupted. Someone shot the pilot. The forklift moved in front of one of the wings, and a “QuikGrab” mounting system took the bomb and attached it. Gunfire erupted.

“You fools, I will deliver discipline to Nu’u Sara,” said the voice. The Discipliner jumped out of the forklift and into the plane. Vartan, Infin8, Sparkle, and Sunstorm sprinted towards the jet. A missile fired from the other wing and exploded, throwing them in all directions. They moaned, and tried to recover, but couldn’t, as the Discipliner’s plane took off.

“We failed,” said Sunstorm. “People are gonna die.”

“And someone has…where is Moonblossom?” asked Vartan.

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The Discipliner laughed as he flew complex maneuvers in the MiG. “So few bombs, so many targets.” He was trying to decide whether Le Terasa, to strike at the Glocks, or the Palace, which was under Commonwealth control, was a nicer target. Or maybe Silisili Heights, to send a message to Al-Harb. This was the first time he ever had a “Clean Nuke” at his disposal. It was in the form of a guided bomb, with laser and auxiliary radar guidance, the ability to steer, and even partial gravity nullifiers to make it almost as guidable and sustainable as a missile, save it did not have active thrusters. He could have gotten a couple more, but there wasn’t enough time. Still, he’d give a big bang. He felt a slight shake. The plane had a revolutionary GyroCab, a cockpit with special systems designed to make a flight suit unnecessary, and that would make the intense G-forces unnoticeable. However, there seemed to be something making itself known. He flipped a switch to check the rear-view camera. There was someone attached to the plane. He saw the woman with the Rage, not that long ago, in the factory. He fumed, what was that winged bitch trying to accomplish? He climbed sharply, and then barrel-rolled, hoping she’d be thrown off, preferably to her oblivion. She stayed on. Her wings were glowing. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, but you get off my jet!”

“MAKE ME!” she yelled. The wind whipped past her as she slowly climbed along the jet, towards the weapon.

The Discipliner was considering his targets. Then he thought of a good one. Le Terasa. But then he thought that would be too obvious a target, and in the general direction of that Glock stronghold, he saw a small Glock airforce take off, into a patrol. He wasn’t Al Harb, he wasn’t prepared to go out with the bomb. And they’d be alerted about their weapon. But if he could get the Glocks following him, that would be something. He pressed a button, and flares fired backwards, getting the attention of the Glock aircraft. They appeared from behind a building and chased, firing shots that the Discipliner easily dodged. He pulled up sharply, and Moonblossom held on more tightly, concentrating to make her hands stick to the metal. He did a loop, and swung back downwards. Moonblossom’s gown fluttered in all directions, but Moonblossom had more to worry about than whether anyone could make out the details of her body underneath. There was the bomb to disarm. The rest of the forces were knocked down, so she had to stop the bomb. She hoped they were alive. She came closer to the bomb, and near grabbed onto a barrel. Said barrel spun and spat out bullets at a Glock drone that had gotten in front of it. Meanwhile, the Discipliner decided where to strike. On Lili Island, in the southeast corner, was a stronghold of the Ai’a’ive Republic, and its “allies”, the United States. The US has been acting strange lately, according to everyone. But to the Discipliner, it was just showing what was always going on, countries manipulating each other, the law being just as bad as those who broke it. They had a weapons factory in the area as well, and shutting it down with overwhelming power was always attractive. And he didn’t care much for Bradlytown, Lauli’i-o-Lili, To’aiva, Tunneltown, Sauniville, and Afa’ese Junction. Their loss by being leveled would be nothing but good, especially because there were a few gangs there. And if some civilians were hit…back in his former life in the Canadian military, everything was done to avoid hitting non-combatants. In the here and now, that was irrelevant. He wanted victory at any cost, and he was prepared to extract a heavy toll in mingled human and Ai’a’ive blood. And this would send a message to everyone. “Discipline, chumps, discipline. Burn and rot, scum!” The way he saw it, all those innocent losses in the blast would make more people wary about associating with either gangs or heroes. Pretty much everyone was fucked up. But dead people can’t be problems, so this bomb would be perfect. Moonblossom was on the bomb. She wrapped her legs around it, and focused. Magic force binded them together, so she wouldn’t slip off the bomb.

Her left hand went at the bomb, and she chanted. A small stream of light emanated from it. It was, for all purposes, a mystic jigsaw. She’d cut the piece off, and disarm it. She had to do something, even if her knowledge of such devices was limited to the fact that there were wires and fuel lines.

“GO AHEAD, TRY IT!” shouted the Discipliner, as he launched a missile from nearby, destroying another enemy jet. Jets of different factions came from all directions. “You can’t do it, and soon I’ll launch this bomb, and you’ll go with it. Do you want a fucking cowboy hat so you can wave it as you fall to your death, bitch?”

Moonblossom was undeterred. A small plate came off. She saw a mess of wires and tubes. The first thing that came to her mind was that they should be removed. So she scratched and pulled at them like a savage creature.

“You just don’t get it. We’re here. Bon fucking voyage, bitch!” He pressed a pair of push buttons. The bomb emitted a beep, small wings folded out, and the plane released it, just as the Discipliner was pulling up. A pair of US Air Force Raptors headed towards the MiG. Moonblossom and the bomb that she magically attached herself to were falling. The wind rushed against her, drowning out her thoughts. This is it. Or was it? She spread her wings as best she could, and started to glow. Stars surrounded her. She spoke, and a large bubble-like form surrounded herself and the bomb. The bomb’s trajectory towards the Earth was altered, first stopping, and then slowly rising. She nearly crashed into a building, but quickly shot up before she could. The US and Glock planes that were chasing the Discipliner were now following the bomb.

“This is Swan,” began the pilot of one of the US planes, “It appears to be a bomb of some sort, but it has an unusual warhead.”

“This here’s Snowman, I’ll check it out,” replied another one of the pilots. He flew towards it. “Holy shit, it looks like a Clean Nuke. That’s a Glock weapon. But it was a Commonwealth MiG that fired it, and now there’s some strange glowing woman riding it.”

“Sidewinder speaking,” spoke another pilot. “That makes no sense, it…HOLY SHIT! She’s some kind of sorceress or something. We’ve gotta relay this to base, let them figure out what to do!”

“This is one of our weapons,” said one of the Glock pilots. “Monitor, Hotel Four, we’ve got an increasing angel, we’re approaching service ceiling, we have to pull away.”

Soon all of the aircraft pulled away. Moonblossom saw down, and the curvature of the Earth was noticeable, and clouds were racing past her. She closed her eyes, and “reached out” into space. She wanted to know where to send this projectile. She became aware of what to do. She turned the bomb, and then let go. The bubble vanished, but it was going quickly enough that it would not matter. Her ears popped, as she fell through the upper reaches of the atmosphere. Her wings spread, taking some time before catching enough air to matter. She gasped when she finally reached air. She guided herself towards the islands.

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Around the Earth, were many space stations, satellites, and automatic weapons platforms. Some were put their by NATO and the UN. Others were put up there more recently, mostly by the Glocks, to ensure nobody from outside tried to interfere in the troubles going on on Earth. One of these Glocks satellites was an observation post and relay center. It had a mass of sensors tuned to all different frequencies, as well as multiple computers to try decoding anything sent from a non-Glock source. While it was automatic, every couple of months, an expert would be sent to do routine maintenance, as well as upgrading of all the firmware on the computers. The process took a couple of days, because only one computer could be examined or upgraded at once, and thus there were accommodations for this technician. Presently there was someone there, a Sean Takawara, of mixed Irish and Japanese origin. He floated through another one of the tube-shaped passages. Only the computer room and the bathroom had artificial gravity. He held a flash disk that he’d upgrade one of the computers with. He just had to see if the previous computer in the cycle was finished. It had been about six hours, according to his watch. That was all he was wearing, as he liked to take advantage of his isolation by being naked. He wished he could take a girl up there, but it was a place of tight security. He had to content himself with movies and video games, as well as a few books, and exercising, during the long times that were needed for properly upgrading the computers. He entered the room, and saw two of the monitors were on. One of them showed a strange orb headed from somewhere in space towards the Earth. The other one showed something zooming up from Earth. It was his duty to press the alert buttons, to ensure that the Glock Space Command set up near Tibet would be made aware of these items. Another satellite was sending out a hail or “ring” to the devices, to see if there was any response. Then he saw the device. It was covered in blue sparkles, and headed towards him. He quickly slammed down on the buttons. Just then, the device from Earth exploded, ripping apart the station, and burning him as the explosion ripped inwards.

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The Ragers were walking back to the Zeppelin. They heard a low boom, and saw a bright explosion in the sky. “That appears to be an air blast-napalm-high fuel combination explosion. Otherwise known as a ‘Clean Nuke’, which isn’t nuclear at all. And I’d say it was the Discipliner’s warhead, except that it detonated very high up. Perhaps he thought that there was actual radiation. But where is Moonblossom?” asked Timu.

“I hope they didn’t destroy her,” said Mara.

“You’re not alone,” added Tigran. “We didn’t know her for that long, but…” He noticed something. “UP THERE!”

They saw her. Her wings were spread, and she was glowing. “What’s she doing?” asked Timu.

“Somehow slowing herself down,” replied Fetu. She stopped a short distance above the ground.

“The bomb will not harm anyone on Earth,’ uttered Mirunesa, out of breath, before she fell the remaining foot and collapsed. The group rushed to her. “I’m only…drained. I went into space!” She closed her eyes.

“She’ll be fine!” The group carried her into the Zeppelin, and they took off, as the sun set.

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Author’s Notes: Well, this was interesting, eh? The next chapter will involve Al-Harb…or should I say, a breakaway faction thereof. As well as someone else from the RSU.