Shin followed Alana in her rush towards the enemy. They had landed amidst the blasted earth, dismissive of the smashed landscape. Some had been lost as they searched for a clear landing site to the firing of Alana and her men, but they were many. The creatures who emerged from the craft were a mixture of soldiers, winged creatures and screaming civilians. It did not seem to matter how many they gunned down, they just kept coming.
That, however, did not phase Alana. She had recovered the animalistic rage which characterized the followers of her Lord. Gauntlets were tossed aside, as were helmets, as she raced to battle. She ignored the lesser cannon-fodder, angling towards the main threat, as she perceived it, of the winged creatures. They looked like Viker, but he was nowhere to be found, and like him directed others to do their bidding. Once companions, their armour splashed with broken-winged symbol vied to reach Alana and her people, but they were too slow and inexperienced. They had no Johns to guide and teach them, no Alana to hold them in check, only their new leaders who appeared to glory more in their deaths than in the outcome of this battle.
A growl began deep in Alana’s throat as she smashed into the front armoured rank, a sound which was taken up by all her people. Well-remembered claws snicked into place as she slashed left and right, cutting her way through armour, flesh and bone as if it was not there.
The haughty Angels watched on dispassionately, waiting for their own chance. Their Lord had been clear, these traitors were to die and whatever expenditure of personnel required was warranted. They were, however, not defenceless, but imbued with the blessing of their own Master. As if on signal, they opened their wings and rose together above the throng. Wings beating, they looked down upon Alana and her people, and opened their mouths. The high-pitched screech which they emitted slammed into all below them, bursting blood vessels and ear-drums. None were spared, friend or foe, and as they watched disorientation take over they truly launched themselves into the fight for the first time.
Power fed into them with the blessing of their Master and they swelled with the knowledge of their victory. Wings folded, and claws outstretched they plummeted towards Alana and her men. There was no doubt of victory, the only delicious unknown was how long they could make their prey suffer for.
Suddenly a blast of blue fire smashed into them, halting their dive and allowing Alana and her people a brief respite. Their leader hovered in place and scanned the horizon for the source of the unexpected intervention. In the distance, he saw what appeared to be another winged creature, one he did not recognise.
“Now, now,” came a voice filled with laughter, clear to his enhanced hearing, “play fair…”
A clawed hand hooked into his flesh and he looked down to see Alana’s bloody face below him, lips pulled back in a ferocious snarl and eyes blazing. This at least he understood. Screeching his own defiance he joined the fight.
Cornelius watched the rending of claws and teeth for a short while, before turning back towards the Tower. It was not the injustice of the battle which had drawn him into the conflict, rather Viker’s attempts to distract him from his purpose. The attempted violation of Cornelius’ thoughts warranted some form of punishment and he had never been one to forgive a slight. At least Viker now knew not to mess with him. If he chose to interfere further, then Cornelius would have to teach him a real lesson.