John slammed his hand against the tactical map spread across the hood of a half-smashed armored vehicle. “We hit Thariel hard, fast, and from every angle we can. We get close enough to smell him.”

  The scent of scorched steel hung thick in the air.

  “If you’re going on this mission, assume you’re already dead. If that’s too much for you, now is the time to step aside. Most of you have families. There is no shame in seeing them again.”

  Nobody stepped aside.

  Sam stepped beside John and loaded a fresh magazine into an M4. She wore standard issue urban camouflage combat armor like the rest of them. Around them, battered soldiers in scorched armor checked their weapons. John ensured every squadron carried launchers and rocket packs. They slipped magazines into their belts stuffed with armor piercing rounds.

  Samantha scanned the hastily scrawled assault plan. “The skies are totally clear…I requested air support but they’re dealing with a fight with another Hyperion in Chicago. We’ll be lucky to get any help. It’s up to us.”

  “That’s what I feared,” John said. “We’re on our own.”

  John pointed at the map. “This is 5th Avenue. It’s nothing but debris and broken glass now. That’s our runway. Thariel should pass across it. We’ll ambush him there.”

  A soldier held a black handheld console. “The Raptor Laser Platform is online. They destroyed most of our satellites in orbit, but they didn’t get this one. I guess they’re not so smart after all.”

  “I don’t have clearance to use that,” John said. “Where did you get that?”

  The soldier shrugged. “It was in the tent with the rest of the armory.”

  John took the Raptor handheld. “Glad to know top secret weapons are just laying around. I guess now is the time to use a multi million dollar weapon platform. Still, nobody here can use this thing. This weapon system is tied to the DoD isn’t it?”

  “I have clearance," Sam said. She took the device from John and keyed in the override, then handed it back. “You can navigate the controls but you’ll need me to fire it once you’ve locked onto Thariel.”

  “Does that mean you’re coming with me?”

  “Sure does, cowboy.”

  John addressed every strike force. “The plan is simple. Each of you has an assigned sector. Your squad leaders know your positions. Rally there and await further orders. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but wait for the signal. After that, you’re weapons free.”

  Each strike force moved like a ragtag legion of stalkers across the ruins of New York City. Rocket launchers bobbed on shoulders. Some of the soldiers hummed familiar tunes under their breath. Others whispered prayers. Their force consisted of a single platoon of police officers and four platoons of marines. They were further split into squads of five, each with their own assignment.

  John and Sam traveled alone.

  A pair of UEF gunships swept overhead. They were loud, slow, and unreliable compared to a Hyperion. But they did what John needed them to do. They pulled Thariel’s attention toward them. By God, it was working. It gave them the chance they needed to sneak into position.

  John spoke into comms. “He’s fixed on the choppers. Book it! Move!”

  Every squadron advanced closer and settled into position. John and Sam found their spot amongst the rubble with a perfect view of the towering monster. Thariel disengaged from the choppers after several minutes and resumed drifting like the king of death. What was he doing? Nobody knew. He didn’t emit signals. At least, none of the technology in Earth’s arsenal could detect any. So what was it doing? John supposed it didn’t matter at the moment, because he intended to blast a burning hole through the top of that thing’s head.

  “Ready up,” John said, over comms. “Wait for the signal. Then, spit rockets.”

  Each squad leader gave a crisp ‘ready’ or ‘in position.’

  John’s heart throbbed. He cleared his mind, thinking only of one thing: Kill. Kill. Kill.

  Two blocks down, Thariel hovered in place, monolithic, calm, and poised. His alabaster armor gleamed, mostly unmarred amongst the inferno which surrounded him. He stared at the hollowed out skyscraper ahead as if contemplating whether to destroy it or let it collapse on its own.

  “He’s distracted,” Sam whispered.

  “Not for long,” John said, holding the Raptor console. “Raptor is online and locked.” He looked at Sam. “I need your authorization.”

  Sam typed in her codes and linked the targeting node to the Raptor’s controller. “Power levels are stable. We’re locked. Raptor is ready to fire at your discretion, Commander.”

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  John slammed his palm against the trigger on the console.

  A low droning sound filled the air. The clouds above pulsed—then tore open. A beam of light, white-hot, and deathly still, speared down from the sky. It struck Thariel on the top of his helmet with a shriek of solar fury. The streets shook. Windows burst.

  A blinding corona lit the block and engulfed the Hyperion in a pillar of raw solar energy. The asphalt under Thariel turned molten. Rubble around him ignited into flame.

  The light vanished.

  The smoke cleared.

  Thariel remained standing; his armor held, undamaged and pristine. They would later examine the footage of that moment and discover that there was, in fact, a mark on his armor. The Raptor Laser smashed into Thariel’s chest plate with enough force that it left a three millimeter scratch on the top of it. A small blemish. That was it.

  John stared in disbelief. “What is that thing made of?”

  A second passed.

  Thariel’s head turned toward them.

  His smooth and expressionless pearl mask locked onto John and Sam’s position.

  “John…He’s looking right at us.”

  He roared through comms. “Fire everything!”

  The city erupted with the sounds of war. Rockets launched from every direction. A synchronized storm of armor piercing payloads collided with the Thariel. The noise was deafening. Hundreds of projectiles screamed through the air. The first wave hit. Explosions bloomed. Orange fireballs rippled outward. Buildings shuddered with every impact. A second wave followed. Then a third. A fourth. Dozens of armor piercing warheads slammed into Thariel from every angle. The block lit up like a volcanic explosion.

  Smoke churned. Flames danced along broken concrete. The great clouds of dust rolled over the creaking city and obscured the view.

  Sam peered over the barricade. “Did we get him?”

  John’s heart pounded.

  From inside the smoke, a single pulse of golden light flashed. Thariel stepped forward. His armor was scorched and blackened.

  He remained unbroken.

  In a single horrifying moment Thariel blurred into the nearest squad. His blade sliced through reinforced barricades and men alike. Limbs flew. Armor split like paper. The air filled with screams as bodies were cleaved and incinerated.

  Someone over comms yelled. “We’re falling back!”

  John screamed. “Retreat!”

  Another squad opened fire. They unloaded their full payload of rockets, grenades, and unleashed volleys of suppressing fire. None of it mattered. Thariel swept his sword hand. The edge of his blade cut through them like a hurricane. Concrete exploded. Three men flew into the sky like rag dolls. A fourth man slammed into a light post with a sickening crunch.

  John watched in horror. Thariel swept down and grabbed a soldier. Inside the Hyperion’s hand, the man looked like a child’s doll. His tiny officer’s cap swept off his head. Thariel questioned him in that sickening electronic voice. The interrogation didn’t last long. Once finished, Thariel tossed the man like trash.

  Thariel’s voice bellowed.

  “BRING ME YOUR COMMANDER. JOHN DRAYTON.”

  John froze.

  Sam stuttered. “He…he knows your name?”

  “JOHN DRAYTON. THE HUMAN WHO FIRED THE SKY FLAME. BRING ME THIS MAN.”

  Sam squeezed John’s arm. “What do we do?”

  “Leave.”

  Thariel’s blade smashed into the building nearest him. Stone and fire rained down. John and Sam sprinted down the closest alley through the back entrance of their building. Thariel soared overhead. They had to hide. They had to live.

  John spotted the clogged entrance into a subway line. He grabbed Sam’s arm and pulled her down into the concrete crevice. They slid under a slab of concrete to hide from the monster who hunted them.

  Another scream echoed above.

  “JOHN DRAYTON. BRING ME THIS HUMAN.”

  Silence.

  Some song blasted on a car radio nearby. The song felt cold and empty, dissonant. It was from a song called Have a Nice Life by Bloodhail.

  The lyrics sang to the dead streets.

  “There’s no escape, the world is bleeding.”

  “In the distance, I see the end, and it looks like you.”

  “You said there was nothing left to live for—well, that’s what I’m here for.”

  Thariel glanced toward the music. Did he see them? He pulled Sam down with him, crawling deeper into the darkness under the rubble, trying to get further away. John trembled. Sam wept silently. He wrapped his arms around her and held her in the dark like a lifeline.

  No blade fell. No cannon fired.

  Was he gone?

  John pulled himself out of the rubble.

  The skies were empty.

  John sank to the ground beside Sam, chest heaving, dust thick inside his lungs.

  John heard Admiral Valentine’s voice on the comms piece in his ear. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How could he?

  “Admiral, are you certain?” John said.

  He turned up the volume so Sam could hear. Valentine said, “We counted all ten Hyperions leaving the system. They activated the Meridian Gate and just…disappeared.”

  John grumbled. “Cowards.”

  One thing sat clearly in John’s mind. Their departure wasn’t a victory. Emily was dead. Millions died. And from the sound of it, Thariel put a personal price on John’s head. He knew Thariel would return. It was only a matter of time.