Liberator Chapter 1

In every step he took, craters were left in his wake. His armored frame zoomed across the sandy field; the reflection of the moonlight bounced off from his crimson armor. His left hand gripped the Colt .45 tight, index finger outside the trigger guard. His helmeted head rotated from left to right, scanning for enemies that might appear to catch him off guard. White eye lenses matched his shoulder, elbow and knee plates; it glowed intervally, lit by his eyes. His foot dug itself deep in the sand as he ran, sand filled the gaps of his armor. His loud exhalation was audible; it was the only sound he could hear inside the small confinement of his helmet, accompanied by occassional beeps and warning that appeared in his Heads-Up Display link. In his vision, he could see a mound of sand to his left. A palm tree to his right stood tall, accompanying an oasis, which the surface was like a mirror for the night sky above. He did not stop beside it. It was utterly useless as he is a transhuman with an Angelic DNA and is not capable of thirst. It would simply be a waste of precious time; a luxury he doesn't have.

He glanced up and noticed that he was nearing a ridge. A comet streaked across the sky and disappeared in an instant. Tier-4 Protectorate Tripwire knew that the moon would witness a violent fight later.

He skidded to a halt when he reached the edge of the ridge. He knelt to one knee and studied the environment below; a small village in the middle of nowhere occupied by creatures armored in medieval armor. He looked closely; HUD link zoomed in. He could make out the occupants' features.

"Demons." He muttered, breaking the silence. He confirmed that they were indeed wearing medieval armor aflame in black fire. The eye slits on their faceplates displayed two purple glowing orbs that showed malice and hatred. Some of them had horns on their helmets, some had plumed ones, some were none and some simply wore hooded supplices. Their scabbards can be seen hanging freely around their waists, bearing different kinds of swords with exotic hilts and blades. One thing was consistent about their appearances: they were clad in silver.

He wandered his gaze elsewhere, away from the Demons. In the middle of the village, he could see a rising pillar of fire that came from a cardinal direction; a bonfire. Tripwire wondered what it was for but when he saw it, he felt sick: Hundreds of crucified villagers nailed on a cross were being burned alive. Firewood and gasoline were on their feet, slowly consuming them. Their screams were muffled by thick cloths of gag. He watched them burn; skin first that scorched and consumed by flames, revealing flesh and bones. He slid back from the edge of the ridge as he pressed a button in his left TacBracer; a computer mounted on his forearm.

"Protectorate Tripwire, reporting in." He voiced over his bracer before pressing his earpiece on his right ear. His digitalized voice was a mix of a lion's growl and a low rumble of thunder. "I detected a strike force from Shadowhelm Legion. They have managed to capture Desert Sector Delta Bravo Alpha 676." He reported in a monotonous voice.

"This is Forward Base Epsilon." A voice replied back followed by a static before adding. "DBA 676 was captured, noted. Anything else?"

"Requesting permission to liberate the village."

A long silence. Tripwire was getting impatient as his enhanced hearing heard the screams of the villagers. He gripped his pistol tight as he looked below again.

"Permission denied."

He felt his heart sank at the instruction.

"You are to return back to base immediately." The operator added.

"Clearance Order, override. I will liberate the village with or without your consent." Tripwire replied as he shut the radio off before the operator could reply. Looking down below, he sucked in a lungful of breath before sliding down across the sand.