|Era, timespan||8 years after the fall of Infernum|
|Series||Infernum Universe, Iron Maiden Trilogy|
Will write an intro later.
This is Pentafrax 7-4. The locals just call it five-seven-four.
I am one of those locals, but I like to call this planet a “slice of hell”.
On the surface, some tourists might see a gleaming testament to humankind’s superiority. Graceful towers scrape heaven’s basement, while tiny bubble-like ships zip through the air. Even the sky itself is clear; Humankind has found a way to greatly reduce their air pollution.
Below, way down below, droves of humans clog the streets, hurrying around as if they had somewhere important to be. They look a bit like tiny ants, each with their mission, each dutifully living out their lives in service of their queen.
On the other hand, above, way above, stands me, atop one of the aforementioned skyscrapers. I’d like to introduce myself, but I don’t really have a name. I guess you could call me by my code name, Firefight.
It’s pretty much all I have to go by.
Why am I called that? Well, I guess it sounds kind of cool. Like, I don't know, something you might find in an action or adventure novel. Firefight. Has a ring to it!
In my opinion, you can call yourself anything you want, as long as you're not embarassed when your enemy is screaming it at the top of his lungs while you eviscerate him.
Rather unexpectedly, the soft metallic clang of a door behind me opening catches my attention. Chatter, even a smattering of laughter, floats from across the roof.
Ah, but not just any laughter.
I like the human voice, I really do. They make excellent ways to track them down.
With utmost care, I loosen one of my four swords from it's hip-mounted scabbard. Humans are pathetic, any robot would have heard my by now.
Step by step, I make my way to my new targets, two men in suits drinking some dark liquid, taking care to use the shadows and various roof vents to my full advantage. Soon enough, I'm close enough to breathe in their putrid stink. All humans smell like this, or sweat, grease, and who else knows what. They're all walking dumps.
I put them both out of their misery with a quick stab through their guts from behind.
One dies quietly, with just a surprised little gasp.
"Argghhh! It's her! It's Firefight!" This one was quite the screamer. Yelling right at the top of his lungs for all the world to hear. Next time, I'll bring duct tape to shut these idiotic humans up first before killing them.
At last, he falls silent and crumples at my feet in a pool of his own blood.
See what I mean?
Firefight is a good name!