SPECTRE
Chapter Nine: Epilogue
Burning was everywhere. The ash of weak cooking fires mingled with the soot of environmental destruction. Had the humans stopped to smell the air they would've been able to distinguish the different textures; the charred refuse from the firepits, scorched mortar and cement from what remained of the buildings, even the smokey flavor of organic material, the trees and grass...other living things.
They didn't stop. The dark cloud had been omnipresent since the first attacks, they had become accustomed enough to not choke on the smoke and stench. They merely went about the camp business. Few noticed and even fewer cared when a man in blackened, stained military dress led a tiny green figure into their midst. Eyes were raised, half-hearted glares sent, but no one seemed willing to waste energy on them.
The alien did his best to ignore the animosity. A former Irken invader in the midst of human resistance members certainly couldn't expect open, friendly hospitality. The general, however, was less forgiving of his men. He met the glares with scathing looks of his own, which turned the soldiers' focus immediately back to the cleaning of weapons and tending of campfires, eyes downcast and sheepish.
"If you have any trouble dealing with your 'peers', inform me immediately and the offending parties will be dealt with."
The Irken's green brows furrowed. "There are still a lot who don't trust us. I can't blame them. Everything learns to hate what brings it pain."
The man's step shifted imperceptibly. "The empire hurt you as much as it did us. You wouldn't be here otherwise, would you? This world appreciates the effort you and the others are making." He paused, squinted into the blasted landscape, which made suddenly tired eyes sink into weatherbeaten, wrinkled skin. "Sometimes I wonder if it'll be enough."
A flash of violet caught the Irken's eye, the only bright color he'd seen in his time on the front lines. Staring into the darkness he spied a lone fire, a long way from the rest of the group. Sitting beside it was a human with short, dark purple hair, playing with what he recognized as a handheld gaming device of human construction. How she managed to get batteries in wartime was beyond him.
The Irken robot propped up against her was an even larger mystery. Its eyes were blank, dark, but it appeared to be some variant of an older model SIR unit. He studied it for a moment, curious, but slowly found his gaze drawn up, to the woman. Her eyes were hidden beneath thick black lashes; he wondered distractedly what color they were. Her bearing was that of a soldier, somehow tense and alert while still at the disturbing ease of one who's truly not afraid of anything. A strange quality to find in anyone that young...
She looked up. A flash of gold and the alien found himself staring into deep amber eyes; anger mingled with pain mingled with regret. Power and sorrow surrounded her in a miasma, an aura that made his breath catch and his skin go cold. After an eon she broke the gaze, turned back to her game, a normal human, leaving him to wonder by Irk and Earth and everything in between what had happened to make her what she was.
"Do you think we stand a chance?"
"Mm?" The Irken tore his gaze from the girl, and turned to meet the frightened but hopeful eyes of the old man. "General...I think we stand a good chance."
The girl's delicate hand rested on the head of the tiny robot, and a small smile quirked at the corner of her lips.
"I think we stand a really good chance."
And got so far
But in the end
It doesn't even matter
I had to fall
To lose it all
But in the end
It doesn't even matter...-
-"In the End", Linkin Park
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