Chapter 11: Nature's Judgment

Hell's Gate: Perimeter

Erasmus Killgore let out a long sigh as he stared off into the brush at the far end of his prepared killing ground. Dawn had arrived hours ago and the tech people in the base had assured him that the Navi were on the move. Considering the distance the Navi would be attacking from he expected a cavalry charge, and he had positioned his resources appropriately. Concealed spike pits, fire traps waiting to be lit at a moment's notice, a deployable line of improvised pikes, and of course his tiered three firing lines. Those lines, plus the reinforced manned guns of the wall should provide a solid defense that the Navi attack would break against like glass against stone. If things became particularly grim, he could summon his hoard of Wraiths, but he didn't think it would come to that. Thousands of Navi really shouldn't make too much of a dent in the formation he had devised. All around him the foot soldiers of the RDA stood tense and ready, anticipating the eruption of battle. He doubted that they were as eager as he was for the fighting to start, but they would do their parts without flinching, their survival depended on it.

Far behind him the whirring of multiple rotors intensified, only a heartbeat later he heard the voice of Colonel Quaritch over the communicator of one of the adjacent soldiers. "This is Papa Dragon pinging all call-signs. We are green across the board and proceeding to target. Good luck to you all, and Godspeed."

He turned towards the wall to watch the flight take off, his vision focusing on the giant "Dragon" gunship as the metal behemoth rose above the walls. He was only slightly surprised to see Acheron standing proudly atop the craft, one foot raised above the other like an explorer in a dramatized painting. He found himself smiling a little at his son's pension for flair. Such action was good for morale, as most people were inspired by such simple actions and sights, oddly enough. He had to hope though, that Acheron wouldn't lose his balance and fall to an untimely death. That was unlikely to be sure, but that didn't mean he couldn't spare a thought for hopes to the contrary.

A sound to his right drew his attention, and as he turned he caught sight of a familiar face beneath her plastic mask. "Ah, Sergeant Linda Wright, a pleasure to see that you still live." Greeting aside, he went immediately to business. "I presume you have something to report?"

As the woman saluted him, a first so far as he could remember, his eyes started picking out changes in the woman from what he recalled as their last meeting, that of her request to execute the Navi prisoner of war. Linda's eyes were bloodshot, from lack of sleep or continued grief he could not say. Either way, the young woman had taken the death of her friend Amanda incredibly hard. Her clothing was rumpled, her hair was unkempt, and there were tear stains on her face. He had to wonder to himself if she was fit for combat, but since she was out here already the point was fairly moot.

Linda lowered her hand. "Yes sir, the, all of the defenses are prepared as per your instructions. The only thing we need right now is a target."

He nodded, turning gaze back towards the brush. "Very good then, now, we wait."

Pandora: Bombing Flight

Acheron Killgore smiled to himself, feeling the wind on his face as the craft he stood upon traversed the sky. If he closed his eyes, like he was doing now, he could easily forget that he was standing on a metal "dragon" and not a seafaring ship. Maybe that was the similarity that was making this so enjoyable for him. All that was missing was the salty spray of seawater.

He opened his eyes and the illusion was gone, producing a sigh from him. "Ah, just can't beat the sea."

Soul Calibur shrieked out loud. "What! A giant puddle is above me on the list?"

He recoiled from the shock of noise, almost losing his balance and tumbling off the side of the Dragon. "Geez doll, not so loud. And besides, I was talking about setting. You're not on the same list."

The sword/gun apparently wasn't satisfied by that answer. "Well, what list am I on and how high up?"

He was momentarily at a loss for a quick line, but he figured something out in short order. "You're on the babe list of course."

Soul Calibur did not let him get away with the obvious omission. "Yeah? Well where am I on it?"

Again, he didn't know how to answer the question immediately. Eventually, after suffering through a few audible chuckles from the RDA soldiers behind him and a barrage of mental glaring from the weapon he said something. "Er, um, top three?"

The crystal weapon's indignant roar was loud enough to visibly rattle the very air. "WHAT? WHO'S AHEAD OF ME?"

Since he was being honest, even if it was digging him into a hole, he answered that question too. "Boa Hancock and Shirahoshi round it out. The three of you are ahead of the rest cleanly."

Still furious, Soul Calibur continued to rant. "MISS HOITY-TOITY AND THE CRYBABY? HOW CAN THEY BEAT ME? I CAN DO THINGS THAT NEITHER OF THEM WOULD THINK OF IN A MILLION YEARS…"

He coughed twice, trying to get the attention of the unhinged crystal "woman." "Doll, as much as you might not like to hear it the two of them have one critical advantage over you, they both have actual flesh."

That finally broke the rant. "…What?"

He lowered his voice, more for the soldier's sake than his own. "Look, you may be wildly inventive and kinky on a whole different level, I'm not arguing that. That's why you're in my top three. But in spite of that you still, er, whenever we do it your 'body,' even if it is stupid perfect, feels like glass. And just for the record, I never actually said that either of those two 'beat' you, I only said that all three of you are my three favorites. So stop whining, you're on even ground in my book."

The sword/gun went quiet for a while, during which he momentarily started to fear that Soul Calibur was going back to her "silent treatment" routine, before she spoke up again, animosity gone. "So, if that's true, are you going to put your money where your mouth is and show me how much you do appreciate me?"

He hesitated, before turning back to the soldiers and airing a question. "Hey, how long until we have to start shooting space elves?"

One of the soldiers, of whom curiously none were female, standing down in a small recess on the hull of the Dragon answered him by pointing off into the distance. "You see that giant mess of floating rocks way off on the horizon, the target is buried in there. We'll get there in about twenty minutes flight time."

He responded. "Thanks, all I needed to know." He turned to mind-speak for privacy and addressed his lady-weapon. "Alright, about that 'appreciation' you wanted…"

Hell's Gate: Defense Line

Erasmus Killgore stared off into the jungle, sending a flame-eyed glare at the hoard of Navi massing at the far edge of his prepared battlefield. They weren't charging en masse like he knew they would, at least not yet. What he was occupied with right now was ascertaining just what in fact they were doing. That was when he heard it, drums, a slow steady rhythm that throbbed through the air like the heartbeat of some unfathomably large giant. Horns followed shortly, as well s a rising chorus of nonsensical chanting in the Navi's native tongue.

He started to chuckle, genuinely amused as it occurred to him what the Navi host was attempting. "Oh that's cute, scare tactics. Were this a night raid and the enemy difficult to identify or place I might be momentarily concerned, but in broad daylight?" A light huff of condemnation escaped him. "Nothing but the posturing of a peacock which is about to be plucked."

To his left, at her position in the second firing line, Linda Wright responded to his statement. "Sure, what you said, too bad we can't drown them out or something."

Another soldier somewhere on the firing line cried out. "Hey Nick, Ryder, what's that little ditty you're always mumbling during a firefight?"

He looked for the target of the query, finding the young man hunkered down in the first line. The male Ryder responded to the question. "It's just an old US Army song that my grandfather taught me."

With a glance he looked back to the distant Navi hoard, whom were still deeply embroiled in their war chanting, and determined that the alien elves were not about to cease their posturing anytime soon. "Well then let's hear it. If it truly is an army song as you say, then I can only imagine that it is intended to light a fire in the belly of those singing it."

The man looked around at his peers, whom were now all gazing back with expectant expressions, and caved. "Ok, uh, can someone give me a marching beat?"

A cadence was struck, and after a long moment of gathering himself Nicholas Ryder began. "I've got the reach and the teeth of a killing machine with the need to bleed you when the light goes green, best believe, I'm in a zone to be, from my Yin to my Yang to my Yang Tze. Put a grin on my chin, come to me, 'cuz I'll win, I'm a one-of-a-kind and I'll bring death to the place you're about to be: another river of blood runnin' under my feet. Forged in a fire lit long ago, stand next to me, you'll never stand alone. I'm last to leave, but the first to go, Lord, make me dead before you make me old. I feed on the fear of the devil inside of the enemy faces in my sights: aim with the hand, shoot with the mind, kill with a heart like arctic ice." Ryder paused for an infinitesimal breath before continuing. "I am a soldier and I'm marching on. I am a warrior and this is my song!"

Certain individuals around him began singing along perhaps half a beat behind the male Ryder, giving the song an echoing quality. "I bask in the glow of the rising war, lay waste to the ground of the enemy shore, wade through the blood spilled on the floor, and if another one stands I'll kill some more. Bullet in the breech and a fire in me, like a cigarette thrown to gasoline, if death don't bring you fear I swear, you'll fear these marching feet. Come to the nightmare, come to me, deep down in the dark where the devil be, in the maw with the jaws and the razor teeth, where the brimstone burns and the angel weeps. Call to the gods if I cross your path and my silhouette hangs like a body bag; hope is a moment now long past, the shadow of death is the one I cast."

Without exception, the entire complement of RDA personnel joined in, pounding out the beat if they couldn't follow the words of the near hymn. "I am a soldier and I'm marching on, I am a warrior and this is my song. My eyes are steel and my gaze is long, I am a warrior and this is my song. Now I live lean and I mean to inflict the grief, and the least of me's still out of your reach. The killing machine's gonna do the deed, until the river runs dry and my last breath leaves. Chin in the air with a head held high, I'll stand in the path of the enemy line. Feel no fear, know my pride: for God and Country I'll end your life. I am a soldier and I'm marching on, I am a warrior and this is my song. My eyes are steel and my gaze is long, I am a warrior and this is my song."

He found himself genuinely smiling as the soldiers started from the top, roaring defiance towards the Navi host. "Yes, warriors you are indeed. Now let us show these imbecilic natives what that really means."

Pandora: Bombing Flight

Staff Sergeant Tyrone "Wrath" Johnson found himself on the back of a Dragon gunship only minutes away from inevitable conflict, and the only thing he could bring himself to think of was, "what the hell is that guy doing?" And by "guy" he was referring to the medieval looking man standing on the hull near the cockpit without a care in the world. He was familiar by now with the exotic skin tone, true black, not "black" like his own, and the glowing yellow eyes, but what was bothering him right now was that this "Acheron" character hadn't made so much as a peep for the past twenty minutes, just staring off towards the horizon with an indescribably blank look to his mostly-hidden face.

He scratched the back of his bald head as he mumbled to himself. "What the fuck do I care? If he falls off or some shit, that's his problem."

A tap on his shoulder drew his attention back to one of his boys, a private named Charlie about as green as the metal behemoth they were riding on. "Sarge, something the matter?"

He let out one dry laugh. "No kid, everything's fine. You just keep your eyes focused on-"

He would have kept speaking, had a Navi arrow not flown out of the sky and punched clean through Charlie's head before burying itself in the rubber foxhole next to his foot. The cry of "contact" rose up on the radio just like the literal swarm of Navi rose up from around the floating rocks to attack. Still, there were far fewer than he had been expecting. He supposed that Overlord guy's little deception had paid off. The Navi were being caught flat-footed on this one, a welcome change from the usual scenario.

He lifted his weapon, an M60 machine gun, to his shoulder as one would an assault rifle while he gave orders to his squad. "Alright men, you know the drill, short controlled bursts. Anything gets too close to the Dragon I want you to deep six it faster than you'd nail Nick Ryder's sister."

A veteran on his squad, Lance Corporal Leeroy, spoke back quietly to him over the radio. "Uh Sarge, that's kind of redundant right now. The guy up front already did, quite publically."

He chose to ignore that notification as he disregarded his own advice and opened up on the incoming Navi mounted banshees with a rage that had earned him his nickname. He aimed for the monster birds, confident that a fall from this height would prove fatal for the Navi rider even with the lower gravity. Then again, science had never been his strong suit, but he supposed it really didn't matter at the moment.

He'd picked off maybe four banshees before his gaze traveled back to the "Overlord" standing up front, the one that still wasn't moving. This infuriated him even more, so much so that he aimed his gun directly at the black-skinned man. "Wake the fuck up!"

He squeezed off a small three round burst, expecting the bullets to ping off of Acheron's armor and get the guy's attention. He was only half right in that assumption. His errant fire whizzed right through the guy without so much as a sound, but the guy finally seemed to take notice of the fact that the sky was exploding around him.

"Well shit." That was all he heard as Acheron pulled a glittering black gun off of his hip and pointed it skyward. Less than a second later a sound resembling a lightning strike burst out of nowhere and tiny pieces of what looked like black glass started falling like rain.

He was distracted just enough that he slowed his shooting to look back towards the Overlord. Acheron was spinning in place every which way, firing that shimmering pistol over and over with abandon, yet somehow each shot found its mark, turning both Navi and banshee into an explosion of black shards. It was while looking over Acheron's head at the strangely beautiful explosions that he saw it, a giant orange bird even bigger than the banshees swarming the RDA flight. Something he had occasionally heard called a Great Leonopteryx. Somehow, through all the chaos around him he saw clearly one detail on something so far away, the detail that it's rider had five fingers.

Rage bubbled up in his veins again as he opened his radio link. "All call signs be advised, the Navi on the Leonopteryx is Jake Sullivan, I repeat, Sullivan is on the Leonopteryx." Apart from the advisement he added his own embellishment. "Somebody shoot that mother fucker in the goddamn face."

Hell's Gate: Defense Line

Erasmus Killgore felt a rush of anticipation flow through him as the Navi ceased their pedantic chanting and drumming to begin their attack in earnest. Truth be told, despite his obvious bias in this situation, he found a cavalry charge to be quite a majestic thing, especially on such a scale. Horse and rider, even if whatever the Navi were riding weren't exactly called horses, throwing all thought of a future aside for one shot at glory, bounding over and around obstacle and obstruction with fury in their hearts and murder on their minds. Doubly so since Navi and mount could be referred to as one entity when they were linked by that repulsive "head-plug."

A soldier to his immediate right started to lift his rifle, but he reached out and gently lowered it. "Not just yet young man. We want the hazards to do the initial heavy lifting in this battle."

He turned his gaze back towards the charging cavalry, noting in particular the way the formation was stretching out wider as it approached. Already the breadth of the charge was slightly wider than the swatch of fuel-soaked ground he was set to ignite, and that just wouldn't do at all.

He issued his first order. "First line, fire at the flanks of their ranks, force them to cluster into the kill box."

Obediently the RDA soldiers let fly a storm of lead death at his direction, stitching a jagged "V" into the air that slowly grew narrower as the Navi horsemen unwittingly traded one eventual death for another. Only seconds passed before the first native bounded with splashing steps into the firetrap.

A cruel smile twisted his lips as he raised his left hand. "Have a whiff of Hell."

He snapped his fingers, setting a broad stretch of the field ablaze with arcane fire that quickly engulfed a good tenth, possibly more, of the charging Navi. Those amongst the Navi that were quick enough to jerk their mount aside out of the flames, and those simply unlucky enough to be set on their course, were rewarded with a short plummet to the bottom of a small ditch filled with improvised spears. That eliminated a smaller, but still good amount of the hoard.

His second order flew as the Navi wheeled their mounts around both the still blazing corpses of their fellows and the revealed spear traps. "All lines fire at will. Make them rue every second they stand against mankind."

A hail of bullets from both personal arms and the reinforced walls guns turned the battleground into an almost literal portal to the domain of Death. Not that he wasn't contributing of course; he was pitching explosive fireballs that engulfed five Navi at a time, sometimes more when he aimed carefully. Currently, the battle was nothing short of a one-sided slaughter. Arrows flew from the Navi in droves, but it was rare indeed for one to actually strike the intended mark. The fronts of each prepared log, each prepared firing line, were literal pincushions, stuck with possibly a thousand arrows, but the men behind them were perfectly fine. That was when something changed, some almost imperceptible shift in the wind that set off a warning light in his mind. He looked to the jungle, and what he saw made him momentarily doubt the validity of his own sight.

Pandora: Bombing Flight

Acheron felt that things were going well. He was pegging Navi left and right, turning them into deadly explosions of shrapnel that seemed to seek out other Navi, and generally fulfilling his own definition of what it was to be a badass. The fact that he was essentially standing atop a flying bomb out in the open only enhanced that self-opinion. Also, not too many of the flying RDA members had been stuck with arrows, so even the Navi he didn't shoot were getting shot out of the sky with extreme prejudice. He actually had to wonder how many of these stupid monster birds would be left on the planet when he was through with this whole thing, because the Navi were just throwing so damn many of them at the RDA flight.

A soldier behind him started talking, and normally he wouldn't pay attention, but this one guy seemed exceptionally distressed by something. "Whoa, hey, hey that doesn't look good!"

He turned on his heel, boot screeching against the hull of the Dragon, to see what the hell the man was talking about. The soldier in question was pointing off high to the right of the gunship, and when he followed that visual cue he almost couldn't believe what he was seeing. An almost solid mass of banshees was dive-bombing the entire flight from the rocks. What made his jaw fall open was that none of them had a rider. So, he was supposed to believe that dumb animals just randomly decided to attack the hell out of a group of people? No, that crap just didn't happen.

He aimed for the dead center of the writhing mass of animals and started shooting again, but despite his explosive barrage the amassed group of avian bodies swamped and destroyed one of the smaller flying gunships within seconds of appearing. They were making suicidal dives straight into the spinning blades that kept the crafts aloft, willingly sacrificing themselves to cripple the RDA flight.

He spun quickly, spotting the swarm splitting to dive bomb the Dragon next. "Oh fuck me, that is blatantly unfair!" With a glance he saw that the small cadre of men still standing on the Dragon knew exactly what was going on, and he sprinted over to them. "Ok boys, we're ditching this death trap. Do what I tell you to and you'll maybe live through this."

The large, black man in the middle of the squad momentarily looked conflicted, but with a wave of his arm he rose up out of the small pit, gesturing for the rest of the men to follow. "I'll take 'maybe' over not at all. Let's go!"

The men, including that big guy who seemed to be their leader, followed him as he darted across the doomed ship towards the edge. Once he stood there he turned and shouted. "Ok, this is really simple. When I jump, you jump with me. Stick close, or you're going to have a very long time to think about your life before it comes to a sudden stop." He turned and cast one of his portals off the side of the Dragon, and then he hollered over the sound of exploding metal. "Jump!"

He didn't look to see if they all followed him, he just knew he felt the sweet embrace of the void swallow him up momentarily as he fell.

Hell's Gate: Defense Line

Erasmus Killgore looked on in astonishment as a new charge approached out of the deep jungle; a line of animals with no handler in sight, charging his defense with the force of a tidal wave. Members of the RDA were staring to divert their fire away from the dwindling main force of the Navi to fire upon these new creatures, but the bullets seemed to be doing almost less than nothing. He could see the tiny spurts of blood, but the animals were completely oblivious to it. So, was this the influence of the "Eywa" that Doctor Augustine had so vehemently tried to defend?

Snarling, he roared over the cacophony of gunfire and death screams. "Keep your aim focused on the Navi. I'll deal with the beasts." He leapt from his position in the center of the middle firing line to the far side of the front line, muttering to himself along the way. "So much for subtly about the true destruction I can wreak upon my enemies." He landed, and raised his hand towards the giant beast in the center of the charging line. "No mere beasts will stop mankind, not whilst I still stand."

He turned his hand over and snapped his fingers, creating a sea of flames far more intense than those produced by igniting the fuel slick. Trees were reduced to ash within heartbeats, flesh peeled away from bone, and bone popped like so much kindling. Yet still the animals trudged along until their very legs were incinerated. This was truly then, the work of a force that was primal beyond measure, a force of single-minded determination that spared no thought for the parts of itself that it was sacrificing.

A derisive sniff blew from his nose. "If you are going to cheat, Eywa, then I suppose that gives me the right to do the same."

He swept his hand up, palm skyward, and made a silent cry to the Abyss for assistance. With further eruptions of flame Wraiths poured forth, bringing their crude blades and cannons to bear on both Navi and forest creature that streamed out of the brush around the fires that continued to burn, and would endure until he willed it otherwise.

With that matter taken care of, or at least brought under manageable conditions, his gaze, now a cold glare, turned back to the few Navi that still struggled to strike at the RDA, his men, behind their wooden barricades. He drew Soul Edge, flourishing it with a savage twist of his wrist before leaping down from his perch and returning the Navi charge with one of his own. After all, if he were going to make this easy for the RDA he could at least do so in a way that was slightly more enjoyable for him. And of course, he wasn't going to deny that he was actually starting to "like" the taste of the Navi souls as they bled into him through his demonic leech of a blade.

Moving at a pace no normal human could hope of matching he swept his sword up through both Navi and mount as he ducked around bullets and ill-timed swings of native blades. His boots trod lightly across the lake of corpses, crunching bone and crushing the life out of those that lie with the spark of life still clinging to them. He reveled in the looks of terror on the faces of the Navi, found delight in every visage of hopelessness. Every kill sent a fresh rush of adrenaline though his silent veins; refreshed the demonic grin adorning his face. His black heart sang, demanding more, for his enemies to strike back, to threaten his indomitable superiority. Even though his head knew full well that he would find no such satisfaction here, his sword arm knew no such logic.

He drove his fist forward, punching through a fallen Navi's ribcage, and just like that he knew what quiet was again. The gunfire ebbed, the screams of dying Navi vanished completely, it would seem for the moment that the battle was won. Slowly he turned back to the RDA, passively taking in their expressions of amazement, awe, confusion, and the few inevitable looks of fear. However, one figure detached from the mass of soldiers and stated rushing towards him. It was Lisa, and she had her finger to her ear with an urgent look about her.

Acheron's latest conquest reached him, holding out one of the small "radios" that the RDA communicated with. "Sir, you've got to hear this. It's the Colonel!"

He accepted the device, holding it up to his ear as he had seen many members of the RDA do, listening to the transmission from the leader of the RDA. "This is Colonel Quaritch. Our flight was brought down. I have the payload and am delivering it on foot. Some backup would be appreciated."

He tossed the radio back and looked off in the direction he knew that the Tree of Souls lay in. He could move faster on his own, he knew that as well, but…

He turned again to the RDA. "Well, you heard the man. We're moving out! Gather up around the Wraiths and use them as cover, they've no need to fear poison arrows and will not begrudge you using them as a shield." A smile crossed his face as the remaining defenders turned into attackers. "And make sure you live, you wouldn't want to miss the destruction of all the Navi truly hold dear."

Pandora: Jungle

Acheron Killgore's eyes roamed the jungle around him, picking through the flaming rubble that was all that remained on the RDA bombing flight. It pissed him off to no end that his father was probably sitting pretty atop a pile of slaughtered Navi corpses, perfectly successful in what he had set out to do, while got stuck with a cheaply screwed-over failure. That wasn't animosity towards his father; it was indignation at his completely horrid luck. Thankfully, whatever force had gotten those fucking banshees to suicide-dive at the bombing flight seemed to consider them irrelevant now that they were grounded, but that also made him feel even more insulted.

He whirled around at the sound of a snapping twig, aiming Soul Calibur in the same motion with all intent to kill, but his finger loosened on the trigger when he saw that it was just another one of the surviving RDA soldiers. "Damn it, you really need to be a little more obvious. Don't sneak up on people, least of all an Overlord, like that."

The soldier, a rough looking white guy with a shock of carrot-colored hair drooping down inside his mask, flashed him a pained smirk. "Excuse me for not considering your lofty thoughts, your great eminence. You want to hear what I've got to say or not?"

He shrugged, hanging his gun-lady on his belt again. "Depends, you got good news or just more shit that's gone wrong?"

Mr. Red-Head straightened up; overcoming whatever pain he was in. "I think it's good. The Colonel's alive and advancing. He's already ahead of us with the bomb." The guy flinched, caving to pain again. "I'm telling you because none of us are in proper fighting shape. It's going to have to be you and that tiny squad of guys you got off of the Dragon if anything's going to get done."

He laughed once. "So it's up to me to save the day?" He laughed more. "Well how can I say no? I'm not going to go crying to my dad to tell him I couldn't hack it. You tell those men that can still move that they're following me, because I'm not waiting around for them." He flashed a mock salute. "See you around!"

He spun about on the ball of his foot and sprinted off into the jungle, following the same rough path that the entire flight had been on. If he was going to find that Quaritch guy, he was going to have to hustle. It was his pride on the line here, not just the bombing of some Navi-holy tree. It was sort of like when his dad crashed into his party of toppling the World Government HQ, only this time he was going to make sure that he was the first to the finish line.

Pandora: Jungle

Erasmus Killgore tore through the underbrush at a flat-out sprint, following the trail of what he thought to be Acheron as best as he could. He could smell his son, and he could smell the Colonel, but it wasn't like there was a glowing line on the ground for him to follow. There was a margin of error depending on the wind and how many things Acheron had actually touched. Despite his desire to do otherwise he stopped, straining his ears to pick up even the slightest hint on Acheron's voice. It wasn't that he actually feared for the boy's safety, as his son had proven quite adept at defending himself, but things were at that critical moment.

He snarled as he still heard nothing, and took off running again. It had been like this since he had led the men of the RDA from Hell's Gate towards the Tree of Souls and stumbled upon the makeshift camp amongst the wreckage of the bombing flight. The notification that Acheron had rushed on ahead had inspired two thoughts. One, he was proud of his son's tenacity. Two, he was forced to shake his head at Acheron's stubborn insistence to accomplish the objective on his own. Not aid from him though, the squad of fit men that Acheron had left behind without a thought. The extra eyes would have been useful.

He skidded to a halt, his seeking ears finally picking something up. Far off to his right he heard heavy gunfire of the same type as that accursed gun he had tried to use before, the gun mounted on the AMP suits; that and the sound of lightning strikes. The sky was clear of clouds, so that essentially told him in no uncertain terms that he had found his son. So encouraged he dashed for the sound, hearing the cries of despairing and dying Navi only seconds later.

A possibility dawned on him, and he vocalized it. "Could we be so fortunate to have found the refuge of the Navi non-combatants in addition to the source of their fighting will? What a crushing victory this will be."

He burst from the brush to a wonderful sight, at least from his perspective. Colonel Quaritch was poised on the rim of a vast basin while raining heavy fire down upon a mass of cowering, helpless Navi. Acheron was right next to the man's imposing AMP suit, adding the occasional pistol blast. Not to be completely outdone, he lobbed a fireball over both of their heads into the center of the Navi mass. His spell finished off the remaining non-combatants, and probably eradicated a great deal of the Navi breeding stock.

Acheron turned to him with a flippant wave. "Sup dad, you picked a great time to join the party."

He shot a wave back before turning to the Colonel. "I trust then, that that thing on your back is the bomb?" He pointed to the large blinking device attached to the back of Quaritch's AMP suit. "I further trust that you are capable of handling it properly?"

Inside the clear canopy, the masked Colonel answered. "All I have to do is set this at the base of the tree and it'll be a pile on kindling in-"

Two bestial roars rang out simultaneously, one from the air and one from the ground. Out of the brush burst another of those black feline creatures. This one, against the annoying trend of late, was indeed mounted by a Navi, a female with a plethora of decorative beads in her hair. The great feline flew through the air and raked one large claw across the bomb on the back of Quaritch's AMP suit.

A pronounced beeping and flashing of lights preceded a cry of distress from the RDA Colonel. "Damn it, the bomb's been armed!"

He assumed with that kind of declaration that Quaritch was going to ditch the suit and with that in mind he brought his attention skyward, to identify the other animal roar. High above, but descending rapidly, was a great flying beast at least half again the size of the banshees that he had seen before. This beast was also of a whole different color palette, reds, yellows, and oranges as opposed to the muted blue and cyan of the smaller creatures. The identity of the aerial predator escaped him, but perhaps he had the time to deal with the cat-monster before it would become relevant. He extended his left arm towards the feline, shooting out a weak pulse of magic with only the intention of snatching the animal's attention. Such action failed, and he could credit the Navi rider for that.

He shrugged internally as his body rushed to act. "If you want to make it easy, I'm not going to complain this time."

He vaulted forward, flipping through the air over the serpent-like feline to the ground between it and whatever Quaritch was trying to do with the bomb. Situated properly, he wound up and threw a towering uppercut square into the feline's jaw, snapping the head up at a sickening angle and catapulting the fresh corpse back. This left the Navi woman pinned beneath the dead beast, which was an acceptable debilitation for now.

Another roar came from above, and when he looked he was rewarded with the sight of Acheron leaping to meet the animal's descent, Mace of Doom cocked back and ready to swing. An arrow appeared, presumably from whoever was astride the great flying beast, and whipped through Acheron with no effect, as usual. His son responded to that impotence with a grand flourish, whipping the Mace around his whole body before swinging it up in a savage strike to the animal's face. The impact alone was enough to obliterate the struck head, but the shockwave from the strike turned the entire head and neck into bloody paste that became a short dash of rain.

He smiled to himself. "A pity, such a beast would have made a grand trophy for my wall."

Once Acheron fell back to the ground the boy answered. "Yeah? Well you can find another one."

With a chuckle he looked towards Colonel Quaritch, taking notice of a certain absence immediately. "What happened to the bomb?"

The man climbed to his feet, making an uncaring "dusting off" gesture before pointing off into empty space. "You're kid swallowed it up in some kind of black hole. Damn if I know what happened to it after that."

Acheron chimed in. "It's called a portal jackass, and as for your bomb…" The boy gave a wanton shrug. "I'd say it probably blew up in the void so, I guess that kills the plan of blasting that chunk of wood into kindling huh?"

He looked towards what could only be the Tree of Souls. It was quite small, comparative towards the Navi hometrees at least. Long tendrils of silvery-blue drooped from the countless branches that shot skyward from a light grey trunk. It was quite the sight actually. Were he not here to burn it to the ground he might even stop to admire it, but that was a purely hypothetical scenario.

With a swirling flourish he drew Soul Edge from his back. "Well, there's always the personal touch, not an objectionable method at all from my point of view."

From behind him came a feral cry, not that of a beast, but of a Navi, something he was well familiar with by now. He spun about with his unarmed hand clenched into a fist, that fist made solid contact with the torso of the Navi attacking him, sending the native crumbling to the ground with a shattered ribcage.

His tongue clicked against the inside of his teeth. "Tsk, how impetuous. If you were attempting a last ditch effort to end my life you could have at least had the good sense to do so quietly." He recognized the beads in the alien's hair and commented. "Ah, freed yourself from the corpse of your mount did you? What a poor decision." He gestured to the downed native. "Any takers, or do I get the drudgery of killing this one as-"

A gunshot rang out and the female Navi's head exploded. Since the shot was not accompanied with the sound of a lightning strike he had a very good idea of who fired it. And when he checked he was indeed shown Colonel Quaritch standing with both hands on a large pistol, barrel still smoking.

A smile split his face as he walked by Quaritch towards the tree. "A good shot. Perhaps I will inquire about lessons should I start utilizing firearms in earnest myself."

The RDA commander responded. "I'm saving another one for Sullivan."

The remark brought him pause, and he turned back towards his son and the Colonel. "Speaking of whom, is there a way to distinguish between Sullivan and his Navi cohorts? I've killed so many of them today; I would be heartbroken to learn that I had just brought him a swift end, instead of allowing him to suffer a traitor's death."

Quaritch looked back and forth between Acheron and him. "The 'avatar's' grown by the RDA for the program have five fingers like humans. That's how the Navi picked them out of a crowd for years."

After a long moment Acheron chimed in. "Ah, you know I think I already got him." The boy sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. "The one that was riding that big orange bird, that one had five fingers. I only noticed because he was holding them out at me like he was screaming 'Noooo' when I whacked his pet." Acheron jabbed a thumb in the direction of the body of said animal. "I'm pretty sure that Sullivan guy is a part of that blood slurry back there."

He thought about it for a second, and spoke his conclusion. "So the real Jake Sullivan is out there in the jungle somewhere, stranded in his link chamber." He started laughing. "I take back what I said before, I'm glad I didn't kill him. This is far more poetic."

From the grin on his face, Colonel Quaritch understood what he was getting at; Acheron apparently didn't and made sure to make that clear. "How is that poetic?"

He smiled and elaborated. "It's the irony my boy. Sullivan loved this world so much, for whatever unfathomable reason, and now it will be the death of him. A crippled man that cannot walk is not going to survive in a jungle where every predator looks upon a human as an appetizer." He walked to the Tree of Souls and tapped on the trunk a few times with the broad side of his sword. "That end is even more assured with the destruction of this Tree, as 'Eywa' will be unable to avert the animal instincts of the jungle predators." He spun Soul Edge so that its bloody point was resting on the bark of the Tree. "But enough about the inevitable death of a lost and foolish man, we have a 'god' to kill."

He set his left hand on Soul Edge's pommel and gave one abrupt push, driving the demonic sword deep into the fragile wood of the Tree of Souls. If anyone present had been hoping for something dramatic, like the Tree bursting into a melodious symphony of screams, they were disappointed, at least at first. After a few seconds a flame started to build at the base of the Tree, a red, infernal flame that belonged to him, to Soul Edge. The fire climbed the trunk like a child, eagerly, and in short leaps, till it reached the silvery-blue tendrils dangling all around him. Flames also started to spread along the ground, following the roots like veins, killing and absorbing the entire collective will of the ecosystem. He could taste the age of the souls pouring into his blade, eons of life and experience, and his contempt for the Navi's stagnation of culture only grew. And through it all, he caught just a glimpse of what it had been to be Eywa; to stand as a monument, as an idol, for countless lifetimes. To watch mountains be ground to dust under the inexorable march of time; pounded down by the fists of raindrops; to watch a never ending fulfillment of the status quo. Watching, watching, watching but never acting. It made his head hurt to think that something supposedly alive could endure that long without lapsing into insanity. Then again, on what scale could he judge the sanity of a tree, of a forest's hive mind? No such chart existed. But through that second of empathetic contact with the dying Eywa he was witness to hundreds, perhaps thousands of similar, yet smaller, trees bursting into flames across the entire planet. The jungle at large would still stand, he understood that much, but it would be as it had been on Earth. Nature would function as chaos, random events driven by no higher mind. And this satisfied him. The beauty would still stand, without the beast that had marred the spirit.

His out of body experience faded and he pulled Soul Edge from the lifeless husk of the Tree before turning to the horizon, now afire with a setting sun. He pondered momentarily what would happen now, between the Navi and the RDA now that the former was as at the mercy of the jungle as the latter. Would the Navi be able to accept or consider a role alongside mankind, or would they continue to attempt to cling to the trappings of their ruined past? Not that he would be particularly thrilled by the former, it would be a novelty all the same.

He smiled at the sunset. "Time will tell, and time is something that I, like Eywa, will have plenty of."