Oriphiel

On a hill outside of the city limits, the moon cast a pale light down on the detention compound as sentries walked around the perimeter, ever attentive. All at once, the silence was broken by a series of explosions, blasting holes through various sections of the wall around the compound. Pressing the advantage of surprise, the pirates quickly poured in, firing on the sentries as they scrambled for cover. Within moments, the alarm began to cut through the sounds of screams and gunfire, and a massive surge of IME soldiers appeared out of the various buildings scattered across the compound. High up in the watchtowers, turret gunners began to fire down on the pirates, the visors of their helmets allowing them to distinguish friend from foe in the darkness. However, though their weapons and position offered them a tremendous advantage, many of them were quite demoralized, for they knew that regardless of how well they performed in the battle, they would still likely be executed by their unreasonable commanding officer for not spotting the pirates as they had approached the compound. The pirates fired back at the gunners, and before long two of them had abandoned their turrets, deciding to take their chances and run rather than stay and face death regardless of the outcome of the fight.

Despite their early success in the battle, the pirates were still at a disadvantage. As even more IME soldiers exited the buildings and joined the mayhem, the rebels soon found themselves completely outnumbered and outgunned. At this rate, their chances of overpowering the compound’s garrison were slipping towards impossible. However, winning the fight had never been their intention. All they desired was to draw out all of the soldiers in the compound, distracting them long enough for a small team to slip in and liberate the leader of the bootleggers, as well as any other prisoners being held in the detainment facility. As the fight raged on, the extraction team made their way towards their goal, doing their best to avoid battle and to stay out of sight. At the head of the pack were the two motorcyclists, smiling through their tinted visors as they evaded grenades and gunfire, swiftly killing every soldier that had the misfortune of spotting them.

Making haste, they quickly approached their destination. Clearing out the guards in front of the detention facility with a hail of gunfire, the extraction team hurried inside. As they entered, they were set upon by a group of guards who had stayed behind, and both sides made a dash for whatever cover could be found as they exchanged fire. Both sides soon became dug in, and it seemed likely that it would be some time before the pirates could advance any further. The motorcyclists, however, had no intention of wasting time in a drawn out gunfight. Pulling out a grenade, the man primed it for a moment, before tossing it towards the soldiers. As it exploded, the motorcyclists leapt out from behind their cover and charged forward, firing on the soldiers that had abandoned their cover to escape the blast. The pirates followed their lead and pushed forward, finishing off the last of the guards. Together, they hurried down the hallway past the processing and records offices.

Entering the cell block, the team quickly began to open all of the cells, freeing all of the prisoners in the detention facility as they searched for the leader of the bootleggers. However, instead of expressing thanks, the prisoners backed away from the pirates, shouting in panicked voices about an ambush. In a flash, soldiers hidden throughout the room fired on the rebels, killing most of them before they could return fire. The survivors took cover, making a desperate stand as they fired back at their attackers. The motorcyclists fearlessly leapt into the fray, lasers ricocheting off of their helmets and piercing their jackets as they sprayed lasers at their enemies. Though both suffered numerous laser burns, in a matter of seconds they had somehow managed to slay all of their enemies. However, save for two other rebels, the rest of their team had been slaughtered in the ambush. Undaunted, they returned to their search, and the freed prisoners picked up the weapons of the fallen soldiers and assisted them.

Before long, they had found their target, and opened his cell. They tossed him a pistol and urged for him to follow them, however he remained sitting on his bed, ignoring the pistol as it fell to the ground. He looked up at the motorcyclists with an empty gaze, confiding in them without having to say a word. His face was bruised and bloody, and his fingers had been broken and stripped of nails. The IME forces had tortured him as soon as he had arrived, set on extracting information from him quickly so that they could act upon it before his contacts had a chance to disappear. As the motorcyclists looked back at him, they saw pained tears welling in his eyes, and they understood. He had given them up. He had given them all up. For a moment, the motorcyclists felt a hot wave of hatred and disgust wash over them. However, as he continued to stare at them through his broken expression, their anger faded into cold pity and sorrow. They both soon realized that this was hardly the time for neither emotional interludes nor judgement. Stepping inside the cell, they approached his bed and began to help him to his feet. Though he struggled at first, he eventually relented, and together they headed for the exit.

Leaving the detention facility, the motorcyclists returned to the battlefield, the freed prisoners following closely behind them. Suddenly, an explosion blew a hole through a nearby building. As smoke and dust floated through the air, a group of enemy soldiers backed out of the hole, firing at a rebel grenadier that had forced his way into the garrison. At the head of the group was the officer that had captured the leader of the bootleggers. Laughing about how the explosion from the rebel grenade had almost killed him, he fired his laser submachine gun through the hole, before pulling back to reload. As he did so, he caught sight of the motorcyclists and the freed prisoners. They stared at each other for a moment, somewhat shocked by the chance encounter. The officer smiled, and opened fire on them. At the same time, the motorcyclists lifted their pistols and sprayed lasers towards the soldiers, however they were somewhat hindered by the leader of the bootleggers, who they tried to shield as best they could as they supported him with their shoulders. Despite their efforts, however, he was quickly torn apart by the storm of gunfire.

The soldiers shielded the officer as they fired at the prisoners, allowing him and his bodyguards to escape back into the hole. Raising their submachine guns, he and his entourage charged forward fearlessly, killing the rebel grenadier at the far side of the building and clearing an escape route. Looking back over his shoulder through the hole, the officer could see that all of his soldiers had been slain, as well as all of the prisoners. The motorcyclists, however, were still alive, albeit injured. Smiling, he fired at them as they tried to follow him through the hole, forcing them to take cover in a supply closet. The motorcyclists took a moment to let their guns cool down, before leaving their cover and continuing their pursuit. However, by then, the officer had disappeared into the chaos of the surrounding battle.

Having failed their mission, there was little left for the motorcyclists to do other than make an escape. Leaving the garrison, they joined the fight outside. By this time, however, the majority of the rebel forces had either been killed or fallen back, and IME reinforcements were surrounding the compound, determined on capturing or slaying every pirate that still remained. Nevertheless, the motorcyclists and their few surviving allies refused to surrender, fighting desperately in an attempt to escape the compound. An IME helicopter soon arrived on the scene, and unleashed a barrage of heavy laser fire as it passed over the rebels. The few that weren’t instantly killed made a mad dash for cover, and the helicopter ceased it’s fire as a large group of IME soldiers pressed the attack and charged forward. The motorcyclists tried to stay close to one another, however an explosion from a grenade forced them to split up. The man dashed into a nearby watchtower, narrowly avoiding the explosion of another grenade that collapsed the doorway behind him, and the woman ducked into a small alley-space between two buildings, eventually maneuvering her way to the other side and ducking into a large hangar. As she scanned the interior for enemies, her eyes soon fell upon something both glorious and familiar, and she couldn’t help but smile.

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