_ While ashes still scattered and settled upon the earth, and the fires rose and fell, and the fallen men turned to black powder, the sound of crackling flames was overpowered by a foreign sound. The quick, rhythmic thumping of heavy steel boots against the scarred ground below betrayed the presence of three slim individuals, making their trek through the fiery wasteland that surrounded them. If these hominids had had any reaction to the carnage around them, the steel-grey masks over their faces obscured it. Their armour – for that is indeed what it was – offered protection from the elements and minor combat, but it was designed for mobility and stealth, not openly accepting the enemy’s attacks. Such was the privilege of military grunts, many of whose bodies now litter the ground around the soldiers’ thumping boots. The armoured individuals strode like someone with confidence, paying neither mind nor heed to the scores of men that lay burning in the canyon. This would have been unexpected, as the annihilated corpses and war machines were a clear warning. Even so, the soldiers strode on. Perhaps they needed no warning, or perhaps they did not care.
_ One of the soldiers led the trio, with the other two flanking behind. Their movements seemed rehearsed and practised, revealing experience and understanding of one another as they slowed their progression to assess treacherous terrain. A trench filled with viscous black tar stood between the three warriors and their assumed destination. As they craned their necks to observe the tar, the soldiers bore witness to skulls, bones, and freshly-rotting corpses, belying the fate of those who failed to cross the trench. But as the head of the slender hominid who led the group rose, their goal became all too apparent. A casual glance beyond the pit of death revealed an immense golden structure, its spires rising from the obscurity of the smog. The beauty of the construction and its spires was juxtaposed by the carnage around it, as hundreds of corpses littered the surrounding area – all of them as sundered by fire as their counterparts behind the soldiers. The deathly ash-filled air carried a grim reminder of the warning the trio disregarded earlier.
_ As the warriors began preparing to vault over the trench, however, it became obvious that this warning would prove as ineffective as the last. The soldiers that had once flanked their apparent leader went first, one by one, leaping the ten foot gap. While the first one cleared the pit without issue– in no small part due to the aerodynamic armour the trio wore – the second soldier failed to meet the same standards. Scrambling for a grip upon the ash-covered dirt, as small rocks dislodged from the cliff and fell to the tar, the warrior showed brief signs of a very human characteristic – fear. This fear was washed away soon after, as the individual who had gone before reached down to offer a much-needed hand. Once the two counterparts had moved further away from the trench, their leader soared over the gap, landing in much the same way as the first had. Wordlessly, the soldiers continued towards the structure before them, making their way to the only apparent entrance.
_ Though it was closed, the soldiers continued to approach the construction’s entrance with the same speed they had cleared the canyon with, intent on finding a way inside. The lead warrior soon stood in front of the door, flanked by the rest of the group, who had once again ignored the corpses that surrounded them. The turmoil and flames, serving both as a warning and as a beacon, emitted plume after plume of black smoke. The growing columns of ash and smog would serve to only reveal the position of the grand structure that these soldiers now stood before, and perhaps that is how the trio found it in the first place. After a moment of searching, the group’s leader began unceremoniously pounding on it with a clenched fist. To accompany the knocking, the soldier’s mask shifted autonomously, and a male voice rang out.
_ “Open up, for fuck’s sake! Did we come all this way for nothing?”
_ Muttering, the leader of the soldiers – now clearly identified as a male – proceeded to continue his physical attack on the golden entrance. As the pounding continued, the other soldiers’ masks shifted in the same manner as their leaders had, and one of them spoke up. “Jeeze, Quick, you think that’s really necessary? I mean, they go through all the trouble to throw us a party for our six-point-ninth anniversary, and you start filling the place with cussing and vitriol before we even walk in the door?” The speaker, also male if the voice was any indicator, shifted his weight slightly so as to confront the man in the lead directly. “That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?”
_ The leader of the soldiers spun around, his mask animating once again. “Listen here, you little shit, I’m the damn leader this time! You lost the card game, so you forfeited your bet! That means I’m in charge, Shaddox, so you can follow my orders and stay quiet about it, or you can go back to the ship and pick your dick in a corner! Now fuck off, or I’ll take you back to Golden Corral and stuff your asshole full of roasted micken like I did to Tank, you understan-“
_ “Whee, hee-hee!”
_ No sooner had the leader of the soldiers been interrupted, than the golden door creaked, as if under an immense strain to hold up a large weight. It then promptly collapsed forward, crushing the trio of warriors faster than they could turn tail and flee. A slow and loud thumping could be heard over the sound of bones cracking and dust settling, and as the canyon claimed three more souls, the bright red-and-orange CMC power armour of a Firebat stood tall over the toppled entrance. Barely visible was a name engraved on the chest of the suit, which, if not obscured by ash and dust, would have read, “ACKMED”.
_ Ackmed turned around, craning his neck and bellowing into the now-open construction. “I’ll be back next year, everybody! Thanks for the micken!” He then happily strode forward, producing from one of his suit's back pockets a large side of micken. This delicately-prepared meat harvested from mutant midgets was of the grilled variety, and while Ackmed preferred the roasted and popcorn variants of the food, he was known for being able and willing to eat just about anything you put on his plate. In fact, if he was dissatisfied with the meal, he would often eat the plate itself. His teeth had long since decayed and fallen out, but he had had them replaced with golden Protoss teeth. They weren't real, of course, because Protoss are mouthless.
_ Ackmed shook his head and bit into his micken. His mind was all over the place these days, and it made it difficult to concentrate on one thing for too long. The last time he talked about it with someone, he was told to talk to a doctor about it. "Silly Chris," the Firebat said as he bit into more of his snack. "Doctors can't fix my brain." As Ackmed continued eating, he extended his suited arm, pulled it back, and slammed his clenched fist into the side of the cliff, revealing a lever. Pulling it and taking another generous bite, the grizzled and hungry flametrooper waited for the mechanical bridge to extend across the trench. "So many people fall down there," he said to himself. "There's a switch on both sides. Dunno why they can't find 'em."
_ Ackmed shrugged and advanced further into the canyon over the mechanical bridge, absentmindedly slamming his other fist into the cliff after eating the rest of his micken. The bridge began receding into the terrain as the Firebat continued through the charred landscape, paying the corpses as little heed as the now-crushed trio had. Bringing his right armpad to bear, Ackmed pushed a few buttons and was soon calling his fone service's operator. "Hello," he said after a brief pause. "Can I have the transportation directory? Thanks very much." After yet another brief pause, his fone began dialing another number, before being answered by a man with a thick foreign accent babbling unintelligibly about interns and buckets. Ackmed responded in kind. "Hello, is this Star Taxi? Yes, I need to be picked up from the ruins of Tarsonis. I'm headed to a little place called the Flat Planet to meet up with some friends. Think you could help me out?"
_ Upon hearing talk of fares and schedules, the Firebat gave an affirmative grunt, indicating that he would pay the requested fees for transit between sectors. The call was then completed, and Ackmed sat down upon the ash-covered soil, producing yet another snack. He had his micken, and he'd attended the party. Now all he had to do was wait.
