Lieutenant Sawyer had decided yet again that the next time she went out into the field she was going native and never coming back. Just as quickly she decided also yet again that she would miss coffee too much. The thing she hated the most about her new assignment was that she had to fill out paperwork on not only the usual assignments but also every last interaction between her and the ring. She had been assigned to a scavenger brigade specifically because it would allow more opportunities to go out and test exactly what the ring could do. Now that they knew it could summon a tattooed warrior, combat missions would only increase just to see what Kev could do.

The addition of Douglas had only complicated things. While he had been a known contact prior, those who had contacted him had only seen him as a teenager scraping by; even after four years of seeing the havoc the demons could wreak, the power of magic was still virtually unknown so not believing that a person having the ability to wield it made sense. Combined with the apparent rarity of the talent and that it only worked in the zones, that disbelief made some sense. However, that was likely to change, especially if they could find others with the talent.

Nonetheless, that meant that the paperwork would only likely increase. All of a sudden disappearing into the lands surrounding the base was sounding rather attractive.

Her tablet beeped at her with yet another email from General Martins. Almost routinely she hit the ACCEPT button expecting another testing request; she seemed to have found a new obsession with seeing what Kev and/or Douglas could do. Of course, having personally seen what they could do to the Kronus she could understand the obsession. She saw what was in the message, and it grabbed her attention: The squad had a new mission and this would need to be dealt with immediately.

"Hey, Prowse; we have a new mission and we need to decide how to attack it.”

Lieutenant Prowse was bored out of her head; she would welcome a distraction, so she walked over to the other desk. “Something besides another farm? Or did they find a village for us?”

"Oh, it was a village.”

That piqued her interest. As Lieutenant Sawyer showed her the pictures of the village, her hand became a fist, and that fist became whiter every second. A few hours from the base had been the village of Podmark, a settlement of refugees from surrounding farms that didn't quite want to surrender to the military life just yet. A few hours ago, Fort Solace had received an SOS from the village and a drone was sent out to investigate.

By the time the drone had arrived, the village had been wiped from the face of the earth.

Something huge had gone through the village and utterly destroyed it. It wasn't just random: Every building was destroyed, a smoking hulk of wood left to burn itself. Humans and livestock had been slain, and bodies were torn in half and left to rot. Even gardens had not escaped the attention of the attacker, as the plants had been smashed or torn from their plots. Everything else had been broken, ripped open, or simply smashed; there was virtually nothing left standing or alive in the village.

The tracks that had been left were almost birdlike, but they were almost three meters across.

They needed to find the entity that had done this and fast. General Martins had had a squadron looking for it for hours now. Lieutenant Sawyer had a map made of the location and looked at it while looking at the tracks. She quickly constructed a model of the demon, or at least something rough enough it could be useful, and looked at the geography of the area. She quickly found some caves that could hold the demon.

After a series of terse emails, it was decided that they would be heading out in the morning. General Martins wanted to confirm its location and at least try some missiles before committing any actual troops. But when they did, it would be with a platoon of powered armor suits, and Lieutenant Prowse would have her own.

* * * * *

The warehouse appeared before them, a small door beckoning them to enter the building. Samuels and Walker drug their heels; Douglas got tired of waiting and charged in, requisition in hand. Inside it was as if a military catalog had exploded and then organized itself: Privates hurried from shelf to shelf, grabbing some items, putting some items on the shelf. Yet for all the activity it seemed very relaxed. A staff sergeant with the build of a wrestler sat behind a counter, appearing to be relaxed until he barked out an order, which was obeyed instantly and without question.

Douglas felt at home. He walked straight up to the front desk. “Afternoon, sergeant. I've been asked to collect this gear.”

The sergeant glared at Douglas, in an attempt to intimidate him, and then glanced at the list. “Fine.” He looked for a moment, then targeted a private who obviously hadn't been hitting the gym. “Andersen, get me the basic package.” The private hesitated. “NOW.” The boy ran off, grabbed a cart, and started grabbing items practically at random. He looked back at Douglas. “You're no soldier.”

“Independent contractor with a scavenging squad. They're trying to convince me to join.”

"Not bad. You a scrapper?”

“I can hold my own.”

“Soldiering isn't bad work for a kid such as yourself. Deal with some uppity brass, sure, but you get some fresh air, three squares, and a daily workout for a great body. Great for the beach. But it ain't for everyone.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Those your escorts hovering outside my door?”

"Yeah. I think they're scared of closed spaces.” Douglas grinned.

The sergeant grinned back. “Young soldiers. Give them a few years.”

Anderson returned with a full cart. “The items as requested, Sergeant Kowalski!”

"Good job, Andersen. You may not be a total waste of flesh after all.” Andersen looked taller for a second. “Now scat!” Andersen disappeared. He looked at the kid in front of him. “So, you are to look at the gear in the cart and inspect it. This gear can last you a long time if you treat it right; do so as your life depends on it because it most likely does. You are to inspect regularly, looking for tears, holes, and other signs of wear; if you detect those signs of wear you are to replace the equipment as quickly as possible.

"This gear is being assigned to you because someone has deemed you worthy of its use. Treat it like you are worthy of that trust and this gear will someday ensure that you return to this base and possibly even return here to replace gear that has given its life in service to your own. But if I find that you are mistreating my gear, I will track down and instruct you very carefully in its proper care and maintenance. Have I been clear, contractor?”

“Crystal, sergeant.” During the speech he had been inspecting the gear, checking it off, and packing it as possible. Some of the gear ended up in a pile. When he was done, he double-checked the items he had crossed off, making sure that the sergeant saw him doing exactly that. He did not check off the gear in the pile. “Most of Andersen's picks were good. These items, however, have a few holes in them rendering them unusable, and he forgot several items.” He handed the list back to the sergeant.

"Are you sure? The gear looks good to me.” The sergeant towered over Douglas.

“Sergeant Kowalski, as you yourself noted, this gear is meant to protect my life and I should treat it as such. With that great advice in mind, I have to refuse these pieces of gear.” He was starting to breathe a little faster. He hadn't felt this way since the dretch a few days ago.

“"F Fine. Andersen!” The private appeared as if by magic. “Replace this gear.” Douglas handed him the list. “And make sure these other items are added to the list.” Andersen disappeared. The sergeant smiled at Douglas. “I like it when people take their gear seriously.” He glared at the soldiers hovering outside and made sure that they could hear. “It's a refreshing change of pace.”

A few moments later, he walked out the door with all of his gear, packed and ready to go. He had even scored an extra water-proof bag and a few extra carabiner clips. “You never bargain with a wizard.” He smiled as he left. He walked off an action that helped further to hide his relief at escaping with his skin intact. The other two followed him.

Samuels tapped him on the shoulder. “The PX is to your left.” Douglas changed direction with no comment.

* * * * *

Lellend's steam head was giving a little more steam than usual. He hated dealing with Deezle the Dork. He knocked and the door opened. No servant was there. Unimpressed, he walked straight in. The elder demon was at his desk, working on some sort of drawing. “So, Lellend, how are you this afternoon?”

"Fine. Yourself?”

“Busy. But I always have time for you. How may I be of assistance?”

Lellend crossed to the desk. “I need some demons for a mission, and not the ones available to me here.”

Deezle the Defiler put down his charcoal. “Interesting. I assume you've decided it is time to begin the end game?”

Lellend looked at the drawing of some local mountains. “Yes. The tattooed warrior may be stronger than we expected, and he has found powerful allies.” Lellend looked around the apartment. “The shade was not able to even truly worry the group he was with. While I am fully aware that they are not the strongest of the breed, it should have lasted another minute at least.”

The horned demon turned to look fully at the other. “That's sort of impressive.” He looked the other fully in the eyes. “I believe I can help.” He rose and walked over to his bookcase. He looked for a moment, and then pulled out a book. He returned to his desk and grabbed a slip of paper. He opened the book, smiled, and inserted the paper. He closed the book and handed it to Lellend. “That should help summon a trio of demons that should be able to take care of your problem.”

“Thank you.”

"It is the least of what I owe you. Now, I should warn you about the cost to summon them, but if you can bear the cost then they should be able to deal with your problem.”

“Oh? And what is this cost?”

“You will need to find a child of power and bind him or her to you. It's in the book.” He smiled. “Oh, and you'll need to find a small furry animal.”

Lellend's eyebrow went up. “I will keep that in mind.” He turned to leave. “So I guess that means that I am getting the snacks for the next week?”

“The horned demon smiled wide enough to reveal some fangs. “If you wouldn't mind. Oh, and something decent for a change. It's obvious that you shop at the corner store.”

Lellend's skull exuded a bit more steam than usual. “Fine.” He left the apartment.

* * * * *

As the guys left the PX with several bags, Walker's phone chimed. Curious, he pulled out the phone and looked at the message. He smiled. “Okay, we need to make a detour.”

Samuels stopped the group. “Are you sure? We do have a few more weapons to clean before dinner.”

Walker's grin widened. “Definitely. This will be worth the trip.” He felt his cargo pocket; he felt the reassuring thickness of his wallet. “There's a falafel shop next to the stop.”

Samuels looked at Douglas. “Ever had a decent falafel?” The kid shook his head, puzzled. “Fine, we're going.”

Walker picked up the pace and the others struggled to catch up. After a few blocks of twists and turns the group finally reached an open garage. Inside was a forge and a muscular master sergeant. He looked at the group. “You didn't have to bring friends.”

"Sergeant Hiram Wicken, this is Douglas and Corporal Samuels. How's forging?”

He motioned for everyone to enter. “Fine.” He grabbed a case and a sheathed sword. “Those were some challenging specifications, but I may have enough metal for some testing knives.”

“Outstanding, sergeant!” Walker was almost on his tiptoes. “Can I see?”

“No. I called you all the way here just to let you know.” He looked at Samels with a furrowed brow; Samuels grinned and shrugged. Wicken handed the case to Walker. “Check them out.”

Walked grabbed the case and opened it. Insider were four small knives, two of black metal, two much shinier. He inspected them, finding the handiwork expert if simple and the blades sharp. “These are excellent.”

Wicken handed him the sheathed sword. Walker quickly closed the case, handed it to Samuels, and grabbed the sword. He pulled out the sword just a few inches. While the design was unremarkable, the thickness and edge were not: It was a little thicker than normal with a black edge. The edge was sharp. Walker smiled. “This is so much better than I could have imagined.”

“Well, the design was intriguing. And if your specs are right, they should represent a major development.”

"Sweet.”

"When do you think you can test them?”

Walker tensed. “Are you sure?” He forced himself to calm down. “We go out two or three times a week. Maybe in the next day or two.”

Wicken patted the sword and then the case. “Then take them and let me know how they fare.”

Walker would walk back to the barracks on clouds. Samuels dampened his mood by pointing to the Turkish diner. But only temporarily; he had a reason to celebrate and now he had a location.