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  Strawberry red.

  Clouds of poison, red and orange, surrounded the building and quickly it began to spread, falling over the area. There had been no warning of the incoming chemical attack save for the faint whistling of the shell as it fell through the stormy weather. The Avonians were no longer willing to wait, and thus, had gone straight for the jugular. They wanted everyone dead, no exceptions.

  Immediately, Eli dropped his pack. He took a massive gulp of precious fresh air in as the suffocating clouds rose around him. His fingers nervously fumbled through the pockets of his pack, almost forgetting the basics on how a zipper worked. The Penal-Units signature dark blue color scheme kept the bag hidden, and had it not been for the bright cyan and orange delta stamped on a few choice places of the bag, he may not have found the zippers in time. With the bag open. he rummaged through first aid kits, spare ammunition, and now-useless electronic devices. All of this gear and weight, yet he could not find his mask.

  His heart was squirming like a caged rat, his search growing desperate. He tore everything out in a maddening frenzy. It had to be there! It had to be! Where? Where was it?

  The rational part of his brain tried to remember where exactly he had put the mask. The Regulars had shoved the bag into his arms and he distinctly remembered seeing a mask somewhere inside! Had he moved it, or taken it out? Why on Ear- Narva, would he do that? Where did he place it? Where? Where?

  In frustration, he held the bag upside down to search. From a hook on the side of the bag, a plastic object had gotten itself loose, and through a mess of cables and straps, fell onto the floor. The black plastic clattered onto the floor. Eli scrambled for it, his fingers reaching for the small but lifesaving device. The straps over his head, he pressed the black plastic onto his face until the rubber seal was firm on his skin. With the press of a button, he cleared the mask of the red gas trapped inside. And once he had done so, inhaled.

  It felt like he had been holding his breath for hours when the first hints of fresh air reached his lungs. But even it carried traces of the gas with it, forcing him to double over and painfully cough. His eyes, exposed to the corrosive effects of the gas, burned. No matter how hard he blinked, they felt horribly dry. But he could still see. Thankfully not going fully blind.

  But when he turned to Otaes, he found her kneeling on the ground with her warrior mask fallen on the floor. She was trying to cast a spell with the blue glow of her hands but she was faltering. The blue light flickered, only able to shine weakly, before it died. Her back was facing him, but even then he could tell that she was panicking. Her body shook with fear, and her hands desperately clawed at the air to try and summon her magic. But each time she failed.

  Red smoke was rising from the windows and the lower floors. He could hear someone scream from downstairs. She needed help.

  Eli took one massive breath of air into his gas mask, pawing at the straps and the plastic. When his lungs were full, he peeled the mask off, bathing himself fully within the orange gas. He lifted the small life-saving object up above her head and wrapped it around her face. She jerked away in shock, but she couldn’t inhale. There were still trace amounts of gas that would’ve been trapped inside. So he kept his hands firmly placed around her face, finding the familiar button that would force the mask to clear.

  She struggled still, but eventually he could feel her relax when she realized what he was doing. Her body stopped struggling, settling into his arms. She took a few quick breaths in the mask, slowly reaching for her Kitchi warrior mask that had fallen onto the floor. Meanwhile, Eli kept his breath held. Though it didn’t stop his eyes from feeling irritated by the chemical soup that filled the air. His eyes burned and tears began to cascade. He hoped that the gas wasn’t the type to make him go blind through contact with his eyes, but so long as he didn’t inhale he should remain alive. Hopefully.

  After the burning became unbearable both in his lungs and eyes, he tapped her shoulder. Otaes’ glowing blue eyes were cloudy behind the fog of toxic red and orange smoke. He had not seen her face at all, and still couldn't through both the darkness and the gas attack. Otaes understood the gesture immediately. She took in a deep breath and lifted the mask off of her face to hand over to him, keeping her face turned away so that he could not see...

  He donned it, cleared it, and soothed his burning lungs with the filtered air.

  Otaes shakily stood up, keeping a tight grip on Eli’s uniform as she did so. If either of the two got separated, one would certainly die without the protection of the gas mask. Her arm found itself around his shoulder, and his arm reciprocated around hers. It was beyond clear that both of their chances at survival hinged on the other, and in the foggy cloud that had now fully enveloped the base, it would've been a terrible idea to stray too far from one another. With painful and tentative motions, they started to move. Their only hope hinged on getting out as fast as possible before the Imperials decided to stop holding back.

  With the first failed wave of artillery and soldiers having failed to defeat the ULA surgically, Eli figured that the Avonians were done playing nice. They would flatten the base to rubble, and they would've done so with their own people trapped inside...

  Otaes' hatred of the Avonians was more than justified when the realization came to Eli.

  She tapped his shoulder as they left the room, and the mask returned to her. His eyes were still burning, really terribly too, but it seemed like contact with the eyes alone wasn’t enough to make him go blind luckily. Though he could feel himself getting tunnel visioned, as the dark edges around the field of his sight grew darker and larger. He could only focus on a narrow section of the hallway, going straight through the middle. Without the mask on, he'd have to depend on Otaes' tugging at his shoulder for guidance, for without that he was functionally blind.

  The two made their way through, the building, watching in horror as the red clouds grew denser the deeper inside of the building they went. Through the dark corridors, he could hear lone rebels struggling for air. Retching as the gas claimed them. One rebel stumbled out of a room, fell over, and presumably died as pink foam formed at his mouth. His last dying gasps of air were drowned out by the foam, and his body went stiff...

  Mortified, he averted his gaze.

  Eventually the two made it to the ground floor. There were more dead or dying bodies – their final grasps to life being their failing attempts to reach for air, but they were already gone. Eli feared that it’d be one of Misfit’s bodies among them. Every rebel that he found looked too familiar to a member of his team. Horrible images flooded his mind of Misfit taking their final breaths, mouths surrounded in that horrible pink foam, retching their organs out in a liquefied slurry. The mere thought of it horrified him beyond anything else. And yet, as he and Otaes held onto each other as they traversed through the orange fog, he could see nothing but merciless death surrounding him. Everywhere he looked, dead rebels.

  It took everything in Eli’s power to not inhale in complete panic whenever it was Otaes who was wearing the gas mask. The feeling of being utterly helpless to save any of the rebels was a petrifying feeling by itself. To imagine one of the Phantoms Eli had grown close with dying in such a fashion beyond Eli’s ability to save…

  Otaes more or less was the one who guided Eli towards the main entrance, the doors of which had already been thrown open by those who managed to flee. She nudged his shoulder, pulling him in the direction appropriate to finally get out of the gas. Eli fought the urge to run. They may have been able to make it out faster if they ran together, but running would make both of them even more desperate for air. A risk they couldn’t afford. So they half-walked, half-jogged, to the outside world.

  The moment the two stepped outside, they could feel the heavy pattering of rain washing over them. Water mixed with gas, forming puddles of pinkish-orange fluid on the ground that pooled around their boots. Everything was bathed in rain, quite thoroughly as the storm blew harsher than ever. Wind whipped bands of rain into Eli’s naked face, and he had to squint just to see. The gas was thinner outside than it had been inside as the storm scattered much of the toxins to the area around them, but it did not mean they were safe. Far from it.

  Eli didn’t know how to get to The Port of Helena, the fallback meetup point. Yet, Otaes seemed to know almost instinctively, pulling Eli with her down a particular segment of road away from the base. If the rest of Misfit had managed to make it out of the gas cloud alive, they’d be making a beeline towards the port as well. It was the only other spot where they could hope for a rescue.

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  Through the rapidly thinning clouds of gas, the slums seemed more hopeless than they normally were. Long blocks of dilapidated concrete buildings – now soaked in rain, bombed out, and touched by a thin layer of toxic smoke – surrounded them. Yet in the skies above, Eli made out the figure of something flying. Fearing that the figure was a dragon, he flinched and almost caused both himself and Otaes to stumble.

  But as the sight of the figure grew clearer above him, Eli could make out the fact that it was a lot smaller than a dragon. Instead of black scales and Avonian steel covering its body, there was instead a coat of feathers and fur. A long lion’s tail, two talons at the front and two paws at the rear, and an eagle’s beak. It wasn’t a dragon at all, but it was Archer!

  Otaes giddily gestured to the griffon, and to make things better, Archer was flying towards the port too! If Archer managed to make it out, surely others would have also. Of course, neither Otaes nor Eli could call out to the griffon and signal his attention, the toxic gas – though rapidly thinning as they pushed on into the storm – was still present. And even the tiniest whiff could be their downfall. Even still, just seeing Archer was enough to fill his heart with hope that there was a fighting chance for them all, as the griffon flew through the storm and disappeared behind the rooftops of Helena’s slums. They moved faster, hoping to reunite with Archer and Misfit as soon as possible.

  Another block of running and the massive steel frames of the Port of Helena’s cargo cranes just barely broke through the fog of the stormy weather. The lights which had previously illuminated the Port were off, leaving only dark steel to tower over the slums. The cranes were occasionally illuminated through the storm by a crack of thunder, silhouetting their shape. It sent a shiver down Eli’s spine for it reminded him far too much of a sentry. Or even worse… a behemoth.

  Otaes and Eli both stopped, now thoroughly out of the toxic cloud of gas. Eli took a daunting breath of air in, but a necessary one. Even walking to leave the ULA base left him out of breath. One breath in, another out...

  And he was fine.

  He nodded in confirmation for Otaes to take off the gas mask, and she turned her back to him as she swapped the protective gear for her Kitchi mask. He heard her whisper out a thanks to him, but Eli didn’t say anything back. His attention had turned back onto the ULA headquarters. The old university.

  The spire of the massive building was surrounded by thick clouds, in the darkness of the early morning storm the cloud was a dirty orange of rust and decay. It enshrouded the base in its foggy layers, wrapping the building in a toxic embrace…

  And then from the skies pierced more shells. They whistled a high-pitched tone as they came falling through the storm overhead, but they did not spew more of the toxic fumes into the air. Instead, they exploded. Bursts of fiery red, black clouds, shockwaves, the raw power of the Avonian Empire unleashed onto whatever was left of the base.

  Eli and Otaes could only watch in horror, hearing the horrific sounds of the artillery pounding the walls and ceiling. Dirt, dust, debris, all of it was kicked into one massive cloud that mixed with the gas. The two of them had narrowly escaped the pure devastation, and all they could do was watch as the supports of the building buckled. As the walls collapsed. And as the roof caved in. Eli was right. The Avonian Empire was going to bury them in that university, rebel or refugee, it did not matter.

  The sound of the building collapsing was like another thunderstorm mixed with the pounding drumbeat of falling artillery. Iron beams snapped like raw pasta, bricks were turned into a wave of chaotic destruction, glass shattered, and wood stood little chance. The university’s impressive steeples and dome were the first to go under, kicking up a cloud of dust that concealed the rest of its collapse. It buried anyone trapped inside, dead or alive, it did not matter. Eli’s mind wandered over first to the bodies of the dead. Of those that they had come across, how many could Eli and Otaes have saved but chose not to? How many lives had been cut short, forever doomed to be buried alive in that mosh pit of destruction?

  And then he thought about Misfit. What if they had been still caught inside? They may have survived the gas attack because of their masks, but did they have time to escape? Sparrow’s plan to flee to The Port was only spoken of once. What if, in the chaos, they forgot?

  Otaes nudged Eli’s shoulder, “I’m sure they got out,” She said, as if sensing what was bothering him, “Temetet did.”

  “Temetet has Archer. And he left before we did.”

  “Have faith in your team. They’re smart warriors. You wouldn’t be here in the first place if they weren’t,” She adjusted her Kitchi mask against her face before taking a step towards the port. That was a fair point, “Come on. Let’s go find them.”

  Eli followed her lead, chased by the haunting sound of devastation behind them…

  Block after block of Helena’s urban slum went past. Propaganda posters of Marshal Navarro’s Junta were sent flying through the puddle soaked streets, now they were nothing more than litter. Their cartoonishly utopian dreams of The Renewal District’s concrete towers were nothing but broken lies laid waste to the dustbins of history. Empty promises made even hollower when Eli could still see the towers of the Renewal District standing over the decrepit and destitute slums of Helena, and they were burning.

  One step after another brought the pair further north. The sun was rising and at least a small amount of light was able to penetrate through the storm, illuminating the streets somewhat – but only barely. It was enough that when Eli looked up, he could see the massive cranes of the ports clearly towering over them. They were close. Soon enough, the run down tenements and squalor of the Helen slums gave way to warehouses, train tracks, and buildings of industry. Trucks carrying supplies were left abandoned on the sides of the street, their owners and occupants having long since fled during the outbreak of conflict. And just beyond a metal gate, the Port of Helena.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve been around here…” Otaes said to Eli as they walked through.

  “Nostalgic?”

  She scoffed, “Hardly. Before the war this place used to be a lot different. Before Navarro’s Junta and all. Helena was still poor but, at least it was free.”

  “You said that you’d come here with your dad, right?”

  She nodded, “He would take me and baby Temetet to the open-air markets that used to be around here. We’d sell our tribal stuff to the locals. Sometimes we’d even sell them the things we’d hunted out in the jungle. Jackelopes, wildcats, pygmy dragons, anything that’d fetch a half-decent price.”

  Otaes gestured to the bleak warehouses and factories that lined the port’s entrance, “Now all of that is gone. The Avonians came in, overthrew the old Republic, and put their puppet Marshal Navarro in. They started to detain the Warrior Elf merchants and kill them for ‘radical tendencies’,” She spat out the words like venom, “They sealed off the border with the rest of the Kiote Union, and then the war started.”

  “God,” Eli shuddered, “The more you talk about this place the more it reminds me of Earth.”

  “Really?”

  Eli nodded, “Really. Coups, revolutions, dictators. Earth and Narva are the same at least in that regard.”

  “What about your Overwatch? Kovic?”

  “Oh please… he’s the biggest fascist of them all.”

  “So that’s what you call them.”

  “Rafael calls them fascists. Sparrow likes to use the word ‘absolutist’.”

  “Yeah, that sounds like him,” she said, “You know, me and Sparrow go back. We used to fight the Imperials during the Kiote War together. He’s nothing if not committed to his cause.”

  “Right, about that… it’s obvious you don’t trust Sparrow anymore. Why? What happened?”

  “Well, the thing about revolutionaries is that it’s easy for them to believe in their goals justifying their methods. And with Sparrow’s methods are–“

  “Eli! Otaes! Is that you?” A voice from across the street interrupted her midway through her sentence. Their attention shifted to one of the Warehouses. An open door yielded to a familiar face waving them down. It was Dutch.

  Eli glanced at Otaes and she nodded back at him, “We’ll talk about it more later, if we get the chance,” She said, as the pair went to join Dutch.

  “Jesus Christ, I thought we lost you two,” Dutch said when they came close, “The rest of Misfit was thinking about sending someone back to get the two of you out of there, but then they bombed the base to hell and back!”

  “The Imperials wanted to bury any trace of us,” Otaes told him.

  “Well, it’s a good damn thing we got those refugees out then. They would’ve been crushed! Or choked out first... God.”

  “The rest of Misfit is with you, right?” Eli asked him. To his relief, Dutch nodded.

  “Yeah. Everybody’s here. Well...” Dutch looked behind him, his face suddenly full of worry, “For the most part. Come inside, I’ll show you the bad news. And Otaes… your kid brother and his big bird lion thingy are here too.”

  “Archer," Otaes said, "His name is Archer. And he’s a griffon.”

  “Griffon. I forgot,” Dutch chuckled, “Sorry, I’m still getting used to this whole planet. I think.” he motioned for them to come inside, holding the door to the warehouse further open. The space inside was large and cavernous, and as for illumination – there was none except for the flashlights of those inside. There were actually quite a few people. A large team of rebels who managed to make it out meandered inside. Eli saw Sosa joined by Bell somewhere in the far side of the space tending to their wounds. Disappointingly... Vega was not among them.

  Sparrow was among a cohort of his rebels pointing a light over something that looked like a map from what Eli could see – which admittedly was very little. He kept his eyes on Sparrow, turning back to Otaes briefly. All signs kept pointing to the same answer, and yet he still didn’t have it. What did Sparrow do? Who is he?

  He lost his train of thought when he saw Matteo, Omar and Badger huddled around another figure. Matteo had his flashlight trained on their writhing body and was giving urgent directions to Omar while he searched through his medical bag. Badger could only watch, her eyes locked with Eli’s. When she parted to let Eli see what the commotion was about, he nearly fainted himself.

  For it was Rafael’s body on the floor...

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