Super-Soldier in Another World: Book Two: The Fiendwood

“Sir…?” Michael asked, crouching down next to Hoplite, “What’s goin’ on?”

 

“I’m loyal.” Hoplite muttered, eyes wide as he stared ahead at nothing.

 

A cold shiver ran up his spine as he saw his childhood hero reduced to a shell-shocked mess. This wasn’t supposed to happen to a guy like Thirty-Seven, he was an invincible killing machine… but seein’ him like this? It was almost enough to make Michael wanna ball up n’ cry. He eased himself down beside Hoplite, leaving some space between them as the super-soldier continued to ramble about how he was loyal. The interior of the rest-stop seemed that much darker and more terrifying now that Hoplite was hugging his knees to his chest like a scared kid. The light of Michael’s helmet and the torchlight from the others did little to fend of that blackness, though compared to seeing Thirty-Seven in this state… the dark seemed a triflin’ thing.

 

“I’m loyal.” Hoplite repeated, wide golden eyes still fixed ahead of him.

 

“I know that sir,” Michael said with a grimace, “Each Arm knows that from the outer colonies to Earth, action figures, remember?” He asked, waving his hand in front of Thirty-Seven’s face.

 

“Loyal. I swear.” Hoplite said.

 

“Right, yeah I know that…” Michael said gently, “But ya gotta get outta this funk sir, I ain’t got a clue what’s happenin’ to ya, but ya gotta figure it out.”

 

Hoplite didn’t seem to hear him, simply staring ahead with a face of cold stone. Michael pinched the bridge of his nose, rising from the ground slowly before backing away from Thirty-Seven, a deep frown on his face. What was he supposed to do about this? Without Hoplite active, there wouldn’t be any way to get that wagon going, not unless someone in the party could magic it into movin’.

 

Maybe Alistair could summon that big ol’ goon of his, that thing looked strong enough to lug the wagon, but he doubted that it’d be as fast as Hoplite. He had been right to want to cross the Fiendbridge as quickly as possible, they only had a limited store of safely edible supplies… if they ran out then… The situation was starting to look more and more grim the longer Hoplite’s (hopefully) temporary insanity persisted. An hour had passed already and the guy was still a mumbling mess…

 

There had to be some way to snap him out of it, maybe Lance could help out, she knew Hoplite better than the rest of the people here, even more than Michael, come to think of it. He turned his head, spotting the Watcher speaking with Twindil and her friends. Whatever they were talking about, it made Lance nervous, based on how she shifted her stance, her eyes finding his for only an instant before flicking away again.

 

Michael wanted to go join in the conversation, see what it was they were talkin’ bout, but he also didn’t want to leave Hoplite to his own devices. He didn’t know if Thirty-Seven might try and off himself or not… but even if Michael decided to keep an eye on him, would he even be able to stop Hoplite from pulling that trigger if he decided to do it? Probably not, and Michael wasn’t helping him out by staring at him.

 

Hesitantly, Michael walked away, approaching Lance and the rest of the squad slowly as his ears still strained to hear Hoplite’s mutterings. Once he was out of earshot, he called out to the group.

 

“Whatcha guys talkin’ about?” He asked, “I ain’t having any luck getting him back.”

 

Twindil’s eyes met Lance’s, and they locked for a solid three seconds before Lance approached Michael, leaning in to whisper, “Hoplite is he…” She hesitated, “I mean, does he really bear the blood of a Dragon? Do you know anything about that?”

 

Michael’s eyes narrowed at her, offended at the ridiculous question, “Hell naw, we ain’t even from Ahkoolis girly, you know that.” 

 

“Legolanthas seemed to think so,” Elum said, crossing his arms, “I think a Dragon knows what he’s talking about.”

 

Michael glared at the devil-looking freak, “Clearly he don’t, Hopps is the pinnacle of mankind, just beneath Lord Jyn himself, he’s human.” He said, heat entering his voice.

 

“Humans don’t have hot blood… and it certainly isn’t orange.” Twindil said calmly, “I’m not trying to irritate you Michael, but perhaps there was some truth to what Legolanthas-”

 

“No,” Michael cut her off loudly, “We ain’t from this world, he can’t have local DNA so just drop it.”

 

“But-” Lance began.

 

“I said drop it!” He shouted finally, his frustration bubbling to the surface, “Ya’ll backwater world hicks don’t know nothin’ about us, so dontchu try to tell us what we are.”

 

As if Lord Jyn would allow any sort of extraterrestrial being the chance to procreate in his empire. Terna was fully human, always had been and it always would be, the Eight Arms would strangle anyone who’d claim otherwise. A few seconds of tense silence passed before Michael abruptly turned on his heel, ignoring Lance and Twindil’s attempts to call him back as he moved towards Hoplite. How dare they accuse Thirty-Seven of not being human!?

 

The nerve of it made his trigger finger itch. More zealous Ternans wouldn’t have hesitated to gun them all down for entertaining such a notion. In fact, if he hadn’t had time to get to know these guys, he might very well have done so. Well, maybe not… this was supposed to be a different dimension right? He needed to remember that for the next time they made ignorant assumptions. They didn’t know how things were in Terna, after all.

 

It still didn’t make those accusations any less scathing and offensive though. May as well say that Lord Jyn wasn’t human, it was about as impossible. Wait a second… that gave him an idea. He quickened his pace, coming to Hoplite’s side once more with a determined frown set on his face.

 

“You know what them guys over there said about you?” Michael asked, leaning down to try and make eye contact with Hoplite.

 

“I am loyal.” Hoplite said in reply.

 

Maybe Michael could coax Hopps outta this mess by telling him what the party had just been saying about him. The outrage of it might make him march over there to proclaim the purity of his humanity. It would cause a few more cracks in the team dynamic, but if it would snap Hoplite back to normal it was worth the try.

 

“They tried sayin’ that you got Dragon genes or some crap, tryin’ to say you ain’t fully human.” Michael told him, exasperated, “That’d be like saying Lord Jyn ain’t human, you know?”

 

Hoplite’s teeth clenched then, eyes somehow going wider before he became deathly still. Michael gulped, standing straight before taking a long step back away from Thirty-Seven. It was like the big guy had been frozen, turned into an icy statue. Michael gulped, but his mouth had gone dry.

 

“Uh… sir?” Michael asked after a moment. 

 

He didn’t reply, he just sat there, silently staring at nothing. He didn’t even continue rambling about his loyalty anymore. Michael had a feeling that he had just made things astronomically worse. Mentioning Lord Jyn had apparently not comforted him whatsoever. There was something to this -him repeating how he was loyal -the mention of Lord Jyn freezing him in place… how were they connected?

 

He thought on it a long while, lips pulled to a tight line as he watched for any change in Hoplite’s behavior. Eventually, it clicked. It was hard to think about, but what if Hoplite had been under suspicion of treachery at one point? For a normal human, they’d just be executed and forgotten, but for a Hoplite? Especially the Hoplite? There would only be one thing to do, and that was re-indoctrination.

 

Just the thought of it made his skin go cold. It was a method that was rarely used to ensure loyalty, but he had met people that had gone through it. They never came out the same way afterwards. He’d nearly been sent to the chair himself on a number of occasions, but not for any legitimate reason. Michael had made many enemies in the upper-ranks because of his attitude, enemies that had tried to send him to the chair to teach him a lesson.

 

Thankfully he’d never been determined to be disloyal by the Third Arm: The Quaesitorem, but the possibility had still been there. If Hoplite had been suspected and sent to the chair though… did that mean that the Third Arm had found evidence of treachery from Thirty-Seven? It seemed ludicrous to even think about, but then why was Hoplite behaving like this?

Michael sighed, shaking his head before he once again approached Thirty-Seven, slowly putting a hand on his shoulder plate.

 

“Ya ain’t going back to the chair.” He said, “I know yer loyal, I’ll vouch for ya to the Third if they ask.”

 

Hoplite blinked finally, nearly making Michael jump outta his boots. Golden eyes met his, and two massive gauntleted hands gripped Michael’s shoulders. He nearly let out a scream, thinking that Thirty-Seven was about to reduce him to paste right there on the spot. Yet, instead of delivering a crushing death, Hoplite spoke.

 

“H-how did you get access to that intel, private?” He asked, with a cold stutter, “Who told you?”

 

Michael’s mouth worked, but before any words could come out, Hoplite’s grip tightened. Pain shot up his shoulders, and he gave an agonized grunt, trying and failing to shrug out of Thirty-Seven’s grasp. 

 

“Who told you?” Hoplite asked again, his face twisting up into a snarl, “Who told you!?”

 

“Sir lemme go,” He groaned, “I can’t- breathe.”

 

“I won’t go back!” Hoplite screamed in his face, “Do you understand!?” 

He could feel his shoulder blades pressing together, his lungs straining for air… but there was something else, a boiling heat building up within Michael that shocked him once he realized what it was.

 

“Get off me!” Michael screamed back, surprising himself with the sudden rage he felt.

 

He jumped, Hoplite’s hands still gripping his shoulders, lashing out with his right leg and kicking the super-soldier right in the nose. Pain shot up his leg from the shock, it felt as if he’d kicked a boulder. A big, angry boulder. Despite the power Michael had put into that strike, Hoplite’s head hadn’t even moved. A kick like that would have knocked a normal man to to the floor, but he shouldn’t have been shocked. This wasn’t exactly a normal man he was tryin’ to get away from.

 

Those wide golden eyes simply continued to stare as Michael’s foot lowered back to the ground. The only result from that kick was a small caking of dirt that now stained Hoplite’s nose. Michael was going to die now that he’d attacked him… in his diminished mental state, Hoplite would determine Michael to be hostile for sure. He prepared himself for death, but was surprised when Hoplite released his grip, wiping away the dirt left behind by Michael’s boot. He staggered back, wincing and grunting at the agony in his shoulders as Hoplite stared down at his own palms, once again frozen in place. Suddenly he felt another pair of hands grab him from behind, and he snarled, smacking the hands away without thinking.

 

When he whirled though, he saw Twindil standing there, concern plain on her face as she held both hands up. The others had gathered behind her, but their attention was locked firmly on Hoplite, who had returned to muttering about his loyalty. Alistair’s hand was firm on his the shaft of his war hammer, but he looked anything but confident. The same could be said for all the others, save for Lance, who looked as concerned as Twindil did, though not for Michael, based on how she stared at Hoplite.

 

“Sorry Twinny,” Michael groaned, clutching both his shoulders, “Didn’t mean that.”

 

“It is alright.” She said before nodding her head in Hoplite’s direction, “What caused that outburst?”

 

“I was just tryin’ to calm him down,” He replied, shaking his head, “I guess I said something to freak him out real bad. If ya’ll are gonna try talkin’ to him, choose yer words carefully…” He muttered, wincing at the pain in his crushed shoulders.

 

“Hold still for just a moment Michael,” Twindil told him firmly, placing her hands on his temples, “I can heal your shoulders for you, if you’ll let me.”

 

Michael blinked, almost asking how she intended to do that with their limited medical supplies. He needed to remember that folks here could use that Foundation stuff to do the impossible.

 

“Sounds good to me, thanks.” Michael said with a nod.

 

“Afina,” Twindil said, eyes going distant, “Heal this man so that his pains do not disrupt his inner tranquility.”

 

He wouldn’t say that he had ‘inner tranquility’ at the moment, especially not after getting manhandled by a damn super-soldier. Nothing seemed to happen while her hands were on him, but after a moment, spikes of ice stabbed into his bruised shoulders, freezing him in place as he sucked in air through his teeth. Just as quickly as it came however, the cold vanished, and a great hunger came over him in its place. It was like a bottomless pit had opened up in his stomach, it was all he could do not to immediately march over to the wagon to eat a Theopalu’s worth of food.

 

“You’re healed, but you should really go eat now, the hunger will not subside. The form of healing I used is a bit lazy, it draws on your own stores of energy to quickly restore you. It isn’t like the first time I healed you…” She said, tucking some stray hairs behind her long ear, “That form of healing poses some risk to myself, as I’ve not mastered it yet.”

 

“Thank ya,” Michael said as the monster in his gut growled angrily, “But I gotta go, I’ll be back!” He said urgently, turning on his heel and running over to the wagon.

 

His gut felt like it was trying to eat itself, it needed to be sated or he’d wither away till he looked like Theopalu. He hoped that they’d be careful if they tried talking to Hopps, the guys was nuts right now… Wait a second…

 

Had he just kicked Hoplite Thirty-Seven in the face!?