Massive Disaster III-14 (Patreon)

Watching Dev charge straight into the killzone, Firestorm in hand and yelling like a lunatic, sent a weird spike of something through Zedd’s chest. Is it pride, maybe?

Actually, could have been nostalgia?

Huh. He really wasn’t sure.Didn’t matter. Whatever it was, it sat there, lodged between his ribs, as Dev hit the nearest Batarian like a truck, momentum and sheer mass turning the asshole into a projectile before the point-blank shotgun blast erased the possibility of getting back up. Pure overkill but, judging from Dev’s whooping, undeniably satisfying. That’s what I’m fuckin’ talking about.

A different kind of violence than Kai Leng’s assassin ballet bullshit. No grace, no economy, just raw unmitigated force; the rocket-propelled sledgehammer to Kai Leng’s heated scalpel.

Zedd hovered above the mess, Mark 7’s thrusters humming smooth beneath him as he pivoted, adjusting to his positioning before he even consciously thought about it.

There. Movement to the east. Three more Batarians already on route to flank their position, using the wreckage of a collapsed storefront for cover. Amateur hour. Might as well have been carrying neon signs that said shoot me.

He extended his palm, focusing the kinesis field into a tight beam. One second—two—fire. The pulse shot forward in a clean arc, slammed center mass into the lead Batarian, lifted him off his feet and into the nearest wall with a crunch that meant he wasn’t getting back up.

Two more to go. Second guy had faster reflexes, rifle already swinging up—too slow. Another pulse of energy, this one aimed lower, caught the Batarian in the legs. Not as clean, but effective enough—the trooper went down hard, weapon skittering across the pavement.

The third had better instincts, already diving for new cover as Zedd targeted him. Already moving, already tracking Zedd’s trajectory and shifting to a better position. The pulse missed, energy dissipating harmlessly into the wall behind where the Batarian had been standing.

Not bad. Still predictable, though.

Zedd adjusted his position, tracking the movement. A flicker of satisfaction sparked through him—the Batarian was running straight toward where Kai Leng was waiting, sword already drawn. Poor bastard had no idea what was about to—

Movement below caught his attention. The Bas'Sura mech had broken free from where it'd been temporarily immobilized, massive frame stomping methodically toward a shop with glass windows. Inside, huddled civilian faces pressed against the transparent surface, frozen in the particular flavor of terror that came with knowing there was nowhere to run.

The flamethrower arm rose, pilot light igniting with a hungry hiss that Zedd could hear even through the Mark 7's acoustic filters.

Dev had seen it too. The big guy hit the emergency overcharge on his VEST's kinesis generators—a stupid, reckless move that would probably fry half the servos, but Zedd couldn't fault the logic. Better broken equipment than dead civilians.

The impact as Dev crashed into the mech's back was impressive, if ultimately futile. The Bas'Sura staggered, its massive bulk momentarily thrown off-balance, but it remained standing. Still, the diversion worked—its sensors registered the new threat, head swiveling 180 degrees in that particularly unsettling way combat mechs moved.

Shit.

Zedd was already moving before his conscious mind fully registered what he was seeing. The thrusters kicked into overdrive, acceleration pushing him down toward the mech with enough force that g-compensators had to engage to keep him from blacking out.

Dev kept backing up, firing his shotgun at the advancing mech. The rounds barely scratched its armor plating, tiny sparks flaring where they impacted. The plaza had emptied of civilians in that area, at least, campus security having used the distraction to evacuate the shop.

Small mercies.

Dev's back hit a fallen concrete support beam. Nowhere left to retreat. The mech raised its flamethrower arm again, and Zedd could see from Dev's posture that the big guy knew his shields wouldn't survive another burst.

Three seconds to impact. Two. One.

Zedd hit the Bas'Sura from above, the Mark 7's enhanced strength and momentum driving him onto its shoulders with enough force to stagger even the massive machine. His hand found the weak point where the head assembly connected to the torso—a universal design flaw in Batarian mechs that nobody ever seemed to fix. Idiots.

Blue-white energy crackled around his fist as he drove it into the junction, the kinesis field focused into a shape sharp enough to slice through metal and wiring. The mech's head simply separated from its body, not clean like decapitation but messy, with wires and components shearing away in a shower of sparks.

The huge body swayed, systems failing as the central processor lost connection with the motor functions. Then it collapsed with ground-shaking impact, kicking up dust and debris.

Zedd landed light beside it, the servos in his Mk 7 VEST purring as his boots kissed pavement. His hands buzzed with the fading charge of the pulse strike, residual energy crackling at his knuckles before dissipating into the night air.

He looked at Dev and cocked his head.

The focused cutting field had pulled more power than anticipated—he'd need to recalibrate that particular function when they got back to the lab.

"What part of 'we've got four-eyes to kill' did you not understand?" he asked, looking at Dev through the visor. "Because I'm pretty sure I didn't say 'go play with the giant death robot.'"

Dev was still catching his breath, chest rising heavy in his bulky-ass Mk 3.  The guy looked like he’d just run a triathlon while benching a car, but he still managed to let out a sharp, breathless laugh. Raw, adrenaline-edged. "Sorry, boss. Thought you might be getting bored up there."Zedd exhaled, shifting his stance as the VEST auto-balanced, kinetic dampeners catching the residual force from his landing. The heat sinks at his back hissed, venting excess charge into the air, the faint burn of discharged energy curling through the smoke-thick battlefield.

Then—movement above.

A flicker of something fast, too fast, too clean—a blur of metal, a predatory shape unfolding from the ledge with mechanical precision.

No time to move.Blade.

A whisper of steel through air, so fast his HUD barely processed it before the result hit as the mech’s head severed mid-leap, momentum carrying its body forward even as sparks geysered from the exposed neck assembly. The rest of the frame collapsed in a heap of dead weight, metal scraping pavement, circuits frying in stuttering, broken bursts of electricity.

Zedd didn’t flinch. Didn’t need to. Already knew.

Kai Leng landed in the wreckage in front of him before the thing’s body even settled, the sword already sliding back into its sheath. The movement smooth, automatic, like he hadn’t just bisected an expensive killing machine in mid-air.

His armor was smeared in red, covered in arterial spray. Definitely not his. More than that, the man didn't have a scratch on him, despite having engaged at least fifteen hostiles by Zedd's count.

"The South entrance is compromised, sir," Kai reported, the bodyguard’s voice as emotionless as ever. Almost like he’d just gotten back from a fucking walk instead of a slaughterhouse as he casually flicked something off his gauntlet—blood, not oil. "Approximately twelve more hostiles advancing.” He cracked his neck, somehow managing to even make that action look fucking cool, to Zedd’s annoyance. “At least three, suspected heavy weapons by eezo signature."

The Mark 7's blue visor slid up, exposing Zedd's face as he tried his best not to roll his eyes at Kai, eyes already watering with the smoke in his face."They're not here for a smash and grab," he said, the thought already something he’d finalized in his head. "Too coordinated. Too well equipped." A raid on a colony built for the sole purpose of human higher education might justify a few mercenaries, but not a full-scale assault team with military-grade hardware. “This isn’t just a kill either. They want to fucking raze this place. I’m the primary target, but the message is clearly for more than just me.”

"Hit squad," Dev confirmed, shaking his Firestorm as he waited for it to cool. A soldier’s myth, a common one despite the fact that the coolant systems in any modern gun didn’t respond to that in any way, but Zedd wasn’t going to fault him for it now. "Question is, who put up the credits?"

"That," Zedd said as his helmet sealed back into place, "is tomorrow's problem. Right now—"

Gunfire tore through whatever he'd been about to say, shards pinging off the fallen Bas'Sura they were using for cover like the deadliest sharpest rainstorm in existence. His visor slid back down and his HUD lit up again, exposing a new wave of Batarians pushing into the plaza, weapons raised and ready.

Great. Reinforcements. Because this day wasn't already fucked enough.

"Dev, right flank," he ordered, interface already plotting optimal firing positions through the Mark 7's targeting systems. "Leng, center. I'll take high ground. Priority is civilian evac—we make enough noise, they focus on us instead of the easy targets."

Dev nodded, the private checking his shotgun one last time. The readouts from the Mark 3 flashed across Zedd's HUD, showing him significant strain on his friend’s system—servos operating at 73% efficiency, shields at 59%, power reserves dipping into the yellow. Need to upgrade him after this.

Still functional, but not optimal. I can fix that."Works for me, boss," Dev replied, apparently unconcerned by his suit's condition.

"And Dev?" Zedd added, a flicker of something uncomfortably close to concern sparking through his chest.

"Yeah, bossman?"

"Try not to die. Paperwork's a bitch." The deflection came automatically, the instinctive pivot away from anything resembling genuine emotion.

Dev's vitals spiked slightly as he grinned inside his helmet, rolling his shoulders like he was getting ready to bench-press a war crime. "Never been much of a reader anyway."

Zedd smirked.

Then he launched.

The thrusters flared, kinetic push kicking him into the air fast, sharp, barely a breath between standing and moving. The battlefield shrank beneath him, angles shifting, perspective widening, data flooding his HUD.thrusters propelling him to a vantage point on what remained of the second-story balcony overlooking the plaza. The area had mostly emptied of civilians—most fleeing toward the emergency shelters built into the university's infrastructure, others being evacuated. 

Still, mostly was only mostly. 

Plenty were still scrambling, tripping over themselves, some hiding behind overturned kiosks, others huddled in doorways, wide-eyed and too stunned to even scream. One guy was bleeding bad from the leg, security officers trying to pull him toward an alley between two shops but they were pinned, stuck behind cover as gunfire ripped through the street.

Campus security officers had formed a ragged perimeter, their armor a joke compared to what the Batarians were packing but their positioning suggesting at least basic tactical training. Better than nothing.

Incoming targeting data appeared in his HUD, Kai Leng marking priority threats through the shared combat network. The man moved like a ghost through the battlefield, blade flashing and Raptor firing as he engaged the first wave of reinforcements. Four Batarians down in the space of seconds, their deaths so quick and efficient it barely registered as violence.

Dev took the right flank as instructed, the Mark 3's bulk making subtlety impossible but turning him into the perfect distraction. The Firestorm boomed, cutting down two more hostiles as he advanced.

Zedd focused on suppression fire, the kinesis pulses from his palms keeping the Batarians' heads down, preventing them from getting clean shots at anyone. The Mark 7's systems were performing beautifully, each pulse more precise than the last as the adaptive targeting algorithms learned from his movements.

His comms pinged, an incoming transmission from the shuttle. Caleb's voice filled his helmet, tight with barely restrained energy.

"Boss, I can see the fight from here! The Batarians are bringing in reinforcements from the north side. I can help—the procedure worked, I'm stronger now, I can—"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Zedd snapped, the words bursting out before he could filter them. "Stay in the fucking shuttle! You're not trained yet, not properly."

"But I can-"

"That's an order, Rogers!" Zedd cut the connection, refocusing on the battlefield. The last thing he needed was Caleb getting himself killed trying to play hero. Enhanced or not, the kid had zero combat experience.

A warning flashed across his HUD; incoming projectile, high velocity. But the alert definitely wasn't for him, the thing shared across their systems.

"Dev, missile on you! Three o'clock! MOVE!" he shouted into the comms, already blasting toward the big guy's position, eyes wide behind his visor, heart pounding in his chest.

“Wha-!” Dev turned as the missile slammed right into his chest plate, the explosion engulfing him in fire and concussive force. The Mark 3's shields flared brilliantly as they tried to compensate, failing under the combined thermal and kinetic assault.

The readouts from Dev's suit flatlined for a heart-stopping moment before flickering back to life—damage reports streaming in as the emergency systems engaged. 

[Structural Integrity Compromised] 

Left arm servos non-functional 

Power Nodes at 21% capacity.

More than anything, Dev was alive. The vital signs were erratic but present, the suit doing what it was designed to do—keeping the wearer breathing even when things went to shit.

Relief hit Zedd with force, almost making him miss his landing on a nearby rooftop as he slid across the surface. The Mark 7 pivoted, Zedd already plotting the fastest route to Dev's position, even as another barrage of fire forced him to take cover behind a ventilation unit.

Explosions tore through the street below, the Batarians switching tactics. Smart fucking four-eyes, Zedd had to give them that. They'd figured out the kinesis barriers couldn't handle multiple simultaneous impacts, clearly considering Dev. Spread the force wide enough with enough power behind it, and something would get through.

Smart. Annoying, but smart.

Fire bloomed across half the street, the university's decorative trees and artificial gardens turned into impromptu fuel sources. Civilians who'd been hiding in storefronts were now fleeing the flames, running into the open where they made perfect targets.

Shit, shit, shit—

Zedd launched himself toward the nearest group, a cluster of students and what looked like a professor trying to herd them toward safety. A shot clipped his shoulder, the Mark 7's shields absorbing most of the impact but the force still sending him slightly off-course.

He managed to correct, landing between the civilians and the advancing Batarians. The kinesis field generators in his palms glowed blue-white as he pushed power into them, creating a defensive barrier.

More explosions, closer this time. The building to their right had taken structural damage, concrete and steel groaning as it began to give way. A massive section of wall collapsed outward, falling directly toward where another group of civilians was huddled against an overturned food cart. No time to reach them. No angle for a kinesis pulse strong enough to deflect that much mass.

Time slowed, that weird combat-focus thing kicking in where seconds stretched like taffy. Zedd could see it all in perfect clarity—the chunk of concrete and steel tumbling toward the terrified students, the Batarian troops advancing through the smoke, Dev down and vulnerable across the plaza. Too many threats, not enough of him to go around.

Then a blur of royal blue and white streaked across his field of vision, moving with speed that a regular human could not manage on their own.

The figure landed between the falling debris and the civilians in a perfect three-point stance that sent spiderwebs of cracks radiating through the concrete beneath his feet. As he rose, time seemed to catch up again, the blue-armored figure standing tall, a gleaming shield raised above his head.

The debris crashed against the shield and stopped, a kinesis barrier flaring to life in a perfect dome of crackling white-blue energy. Chunks of stone and twisted metal hung suspended, caught in the field only inches from crushing the civilians below.

The figure stood unwavering under the weight, blue chest-plate and fully-concealing helmet gleaming in the firelight. And on the chest plate, emblazoned in glowing white that seemed to cut through the smoke and chaos, a perfect V.

With a movement that looked effortless, the figure shifted his stance and pushed, sending the suspended debris flying back toward the Batarian lines. Three troopers went down under the avalanche of concrete, others diving for cover as dust and fragments rained across their position."Get to safety," the figure told the civilians, voice amplified to cut right through the sounds of combat. "Emergency shelter over that way, move now!" He pointed with his free hand, not looking away from the Batarian forces regrouping across the plaza.The blue-armored figure straightened up, lowering the blue-painted shield to his side in a pose that looked like it belonged on an Alliance recruiting poster.

Zedd shook his head "...this fucking guy.”

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –​

Forge Points: 200