2200 IST (Imperial Standard Time)
October 31st, Imperial Year 900
Central Imperial Center; Financial District
Operation Tropic Vengeance X-Day +420

It was the end.

A coalition of invaders from North America, some envious of the Imperium's wealth, some trying to bloody their troops, and others simply looking to settle within the Imperium had done the unthinkable; invade the Imperium's mainland through the quarantine zone and lay siege to the Imperial Capital. Defenses long neglected were hastily restored even as the Steel Legion fought tooth and nail to keep the aliens contained within the desert wastes of Northern Mexico.

The breakthrough had cost literally millions of casualties to the aliens, but they had paid the price with horrifying indifference to the deaths incurred in storming the Yucatan Line. By this time communications with the outside world had largely ceased after reports of similar landings occuring across various continents. One by one, great capitals of the world had gone dark. With the vast majority of satellites destroyed there was no real hope of finding help from any other embattled human refuge.

Last year, final contact was lost with New York City. In a horrifying series of final communications, some while the Posleen broke into radio facilities, grand cities such as Paris, Berlin, Brisbane, and even Austin were wiped off the map. The horde of aliens slogged through the majority of defender's firepower, stopping only when utterly annihilated or faced with natural barriers. The Rocky Mountains in the West and to a lesser extent the Appalachians in the east served as natural firebreaks.

To the South the Imperial Union was dealing with its' own problems, having lost tens of millions to an alien invasion thus contained with assistance from the forests and the Andes. The great central plains of North America were lost near up to the Canadian Border, it being too cold for the Posleen to campaign with any hope of maintaining occupation.

Of course, that hadn't kept them from obliterating any signs of Infrastructure up north from orbit.

---

Kevin Holihan, Imperator and God of his nation shuddered in the trenches along with his honor guard and the remaining defenders of the North-Western defenses. Miles of earthworks stretched out as far as the eye could see, holding countless conscripted sons and daughters and a hard kernel of bitterly capable veteran warriors.

And the whole defensive line was a sham compared to the fortresses with synthetic ramparts capable of absorbing the punishing blows of the alien railguns. If only there was more time, if the Imperium had a few thousand more soldiers. Maybe the fortresses wouldn't have been overrun.

Then again, the Imperator might as well have wished for his own space-fleet.

'If wishes were fishes...' Kevin thought ruefully to himself.

At the moment none of the over-arching strategy of the war mattered. Intel estimates placed the presence of the enemy within the city to be in the tens of millions. Kevin's final action as leader of his nation and father of the people was the desperate holding mission even now being pushed dangerously close to the evacuating civilian line.

"Computer, show a representation of the war theater." The sub vocalized words were picked up by the semi-sentient AI controlling his Power Armor and it brought up a map using data fed by the remaining soldiers scattered in front of the earthworks. Solitary blue positions represented as castle icons were being overwhelmed by a veritable sea of red. The line the Imperator was currently in rested just in front of the point of no return, three public transportation tunnels splitting off into the rest of the Imperium. Behind this line fled a tide of green icons. Civilians.

If the aliens got into that system, the life expectancy of the nation could be measured in weeks. And that was why the Imperator and his retinue of guards stood over a cluster of Thermonuclear warheads. Their combined output was somewhere around the 40 megaton range.

When the line couldn't hold, the charges would detonate. And Imperial Center, along with her besiegers and the last defenders would be obliterated along with it.

---

OOC: Anybody read the 'Legacy of the Aldenata' series?

2300 IST (Imperial Standard Time)
October 31st, Imperial Year 900
Central Imperial Center; Financial District
Operation Tropic Vengeance X-Day +420

"First Battalion, shore up sector 1. If the horse !@#$%^&* get through, there's no telling what kind of damage they'll wreak." First Battalion was the only remaining Adeptus Astartes unit. The super-soldiers were extremely difficult to kill in their legendary armor but die they had. Fewer than 200 soldiers made up the so-called 'Battalion', but their prototype railgun weaponry and charged particle cannons were priceless against the reptilian horde.

"Second Battalion, you're reserve for this part of the front. Any leaks, you deal with on a squad-by-squad basis. Do NOT let your numbers get drawn too far down by commitments." Second Battalion of the Iron Warriors was almost half-strength, a startling boast by the standards of the current war. Their conventional Armor and equipment was offset by superior numbers compared to First Battalion.

"Third, you'll be getting the !@#$ end of the stick. Orders are to disperse amongst the entire line and co-operate with the militia. For all intents and purposes Third is dissolved." Kevin bared his teeth inside his helmet in a grimace. Third Battalion barely comprised two companies after getting hit hard while defending the Northern Sub-urbs. He still wasn't sure who was in control after the headquarters became a veritable charnel-house.

"As you wish, so shall it be done."

"By your word."

"Copy that Imperator."

Acknowledgments came flooding through the Vox channels, all but First Battalion sounding relieved at having someone in charge. But then again, First Battalions' faith in the Imperator was the stuff of legend.

---

At this point the alien horde had drawn into view of the earthworks. Gasps sounded across the channels when the centaur hordes trotted down abandoned public transport alleys without pause. Their ranks left no spaces for miles; the head of a snake stretching back to the breached Yucatan line.

Superior aliens floated on their flying saucers; crosses between helicopters and tanks. The devices were propelled by some sort of anti-gravity array and sported missiles and heavy railguns capable of puncturing Imperial Battle Tanks from the sides.

Remote Controlled sniper-rifles mounted on tripods were placed along the skyscrapers to either side of the advancing mass. The Imperator made a chopping signal and these guns fired once, unseating a dozen riders with massive holes through their chests. A second salvo rid a similar number of their lives and forced the rest to duck for cover.

The main force of aliens was borderline-moronic and milled about without their God-Kings to lead the charge. Kevin spoke into his Vox Channel linked to the commanders across the front.

"Open Fire".

Imperial Weaponry was among the finest in the world, especially in the prototype department. Automatic Grenade Launchers sent dozens of charges of death through the alien ranks, exploding in huge clouds of shrapnel and gore. Modern Soldiers had long-since learned the heavier ammunition was more effective against horse-sized targets and chose their weapons accordingly.

A rolling line of fire spilled across the positions as the newly reproduced Thunderburst Mk 14 EBR proved its' worth. The .45 caliber ammunition was highly impractical to use for fully automatic weapons, but the Thunderburst fired as either single-shot or three-round burst.

The heavy rounds smashed into what was left of the front-line soldiers, butchering them and their fellows several ranks behind through sheer mass of fire. But the aliens continued to trudge on, heads down as if forcing their way through a heavy rain.

'We're slaughtering the !@#$%^&*, and still they come. What kind of war is this...?'

2330 IST (Imperial Standard Time)
October 31st, Imperial Year 900
Central Imperial Center; Financial District
Operation Tropic Vengeance X-Day +420

Kevin looked down the scope integrated on his gun and noted the dying creatures with a sort of grim satisfaction. A widget installed in his armor's software tallied each kill on a digital counter starting from the beginning of the Imperial Center siege. Already it had reached four digits after only two weeks of combat.

"Imperator, First Battalion here. The enemy grows nearer with every step and the militia shy away from the fate of all soldiers. Your orders?"

The Imperator, not Kevin, thought for a few moments. Some matters required the mindset of an Orwellian office rather than a compassionate human being. But the line had to hold for quite a bit longer to ensure minimal civilian casualties.

"Any who flee, break their legs and throw them to the alien horde. If one of ten must die to put a bit of steel in the spines of the survivors, so be it."

"Deus Vult."

Across the lines loudspeakers shouted in the singsong Imperial Language. "Stand your ground or die! Brave men die once, but cowards die a thousand horrible deaths! It is better to die for the Imperium than live for yourself!"

State propaganda blared out across the battlefield but even so, a few troops elected to take their chances. Commissars stationed in each company promptly shot them in the kneecaps and dragged them to the front-line. There they would lay until the enemy overwhelmed the lines as every human knew was inevitable.

In a war where one side considered the other mobile rations, it was as cruel a fate as possible.

---

One soldier in the vicinity of the Imperator attempted to desert in a unique fashion. He shot the soldiers to either side and beat feet in the ensuing confusion. The traitor's head exploded like an over-ripe melon for his actions, but the damage was done. The slackened fire allowed first one, then two, then ten of the aliens to gain a bit of ground within the earthworks. Soon the infantry on that portion of the works spent less time keeping the massive horde at bay and concentrated on staying alive.

"Retreat to the second line of trenches." The order didn't come from the Imperator. Instead, the commander of First Battalion issued the command. Kevin opened up a private channel with the man. The order should have come from him, for multiple reasons.

First Battalion's commander beat him to the punch.

"Operation Hydra, Imperator. My apologies."

Kevin had a few scant seconds to try and think of what that could mean before an armored gauntlet smashed his head from behind and everything went dark.

I must say, this is a fascinating concept. I can't say I've read the series, but I looked it up, and I have read a series the author John Ringo co-authored with David Weber, 'Empire of Man.'

I might have to read this series too...

OOC: Yeah, you should take a look into it. if you liked the Empire of Man series, Legacy of the Aldenata should be right up your alley.
The first few books are:

A Hymn Before Battle
Gust Front
When The Devil Dances
Hell's Faire

And I'll be taking this story off on a tangent in a little while, so stay tuned. Also, comments are appreciated.

2350 IST (Imperial Standard Time)
October 31st, Imperial Year 900
Beneath Imperial Center; Unknown Location
Operation Tropic Vengeance X-Day +420

Kevin came to with a flickering HUD and one hell of a headache. He groaned and noted at once that the external microphone was still operable. The combat suit was unresponsive to his commands, and even his augmented muscles could barely move the heavy composite armor without active servos.

"I truly am sorry, Imperator. But the Imperium must live on."

A backbreaking effort allowed Kevin to turn and make visor contact with First Battalion's Commanding Officer. His eyes narrowed when the curious inspection showed what looked like recent dents on the Combat Suit's right gauntlet. Kevin opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted.

"The Imperium requires its' living symbol to remain alive; even if the Imperium herself falls. For as long as you live, the Imperium can never truly be broken." A collection of famous individuals from the military were running around in the background, adjusting hardware and securing various objectives. Famous soldiers like Consul Martinez gesticulated vicariously over a holographic map showing the deployments of soldiers all along Imperial City.

The sight of his greatest achievement in flames brought the beginnings of tears to Kevin's eyes.

He blinked them harshly away and looked for more faces he recognized, hoping to find some sort of sense in the situation. At one end of the room, climbing into a tube was spiky blond hair which could belong to only one soldier; Roxas. A second, larger tube with biohazard signs had been placed next to his resting place, probably the sole surviving Theron Guard.

The still speaking Commander gradually drew Kevin's focus. "...by no means a coup. There was simply no way to get you to leave Imperial Center before the nuclear blasts incinerate everything. You should be safe here from the worst of the effects."

'Ah. So this must be that hidden bunker I made during the Cobalt Threat.' Kevin thought. 'How far underground was it? 4 or 5 kilometers?' The difference might well be life or death.

"So what exactly do you have planned for your 'Living Symbol'?" Not being able to use his suit didn't prevent Kevin from putting deadly amounts of irony mingled with sarcasm in his voice.

For his part the commander was abashed. "If you recall, the second, less important landing near Imperial soil was in Ecuador. The better part of four million citizens and 300,000 soldiers were lost reconquering it, and from what we found the majority of its' population was," at this First's Commander swallowed, "used to feed the alien invaders."

The Reconquering of Ecuador had given the Imperium all the information about the alien menace it needed to implement a mandatory draft and start conversion to full-war footing, using captured weaponry and left-over Rebel Army research to create brand-new weapons systems from scratch.

"One of the partial projects we recovered was a Rebel Army initiative to reach Mars; complete with cryogenic chambers with the intended use of hibernation sleep." The last few words were dropped as casually as possible. They still rung like death-bells in Kevin's ears.

"Wait a minute. You're telling me that I'm going to be frozen using nonviable techn-" Kevin's mounting anger was drown out in First Commander's rebuttal.

"No, no. We're quite sure that it works. In fact we've made a few improvements in the drug cocktail that gets administered to those being put under. We call it Hyberzine." Unnoticed by the Imperator, several of the workers around him studied his body posture and telemetry intently for any sign of a reaction to the word. Finding none, they returned to whatever business needed completing.

"In fact," the commander continued, "a few of our finest soldiers have volunteered to go under with you. And when I say finest, I mean finest. Some of our weaponry which hasn't even reached official prototype stage has been stored with you, as well." Kevin's face momentarily creased in a grin at that; the new-generation weaponry was absolutely wicked.

"But that doesn't answer one of my major questions. How long will I be under?" Kevin dreaded the answer.

"Well... The technology and workers we have here don't allow for a specific date." A flicker of annoyance in his body posture conveyed the commander's own private thoughts. "But we're reasonably sure it'll be between 5 and 50 years."

That was too much. "I'm sorry, this suit which you still haven't turned back on must be malfunctioning. I thought I heard you say 50 years, and I know that can't be true."

"That's correct. 50 Years."

"...!@#$." There were a lot of four letter words Kevin could think of, but that one summarized the position he found himself in best.

"Regardless, the procedure is almost complete. Are you ready?"

An orderly appeared nearby carrying a rather large needle. He hooked it up to the port in Kevin's armored thigh and cocked his head towards the commander ,waiting for a go-ahead signal.

With his remaining strength, Kevin gestured with one hand. "Let 'er rip."

A slight prick told him the needle went in, and a cold sensation trickled along his veins. It reached his heart and from there spread to his brain, and once more the world went dark.

OOC: I'll be sure to look those up.

You've definitely got me interested.

Time Unknown (IST)
Date Unknown
Beneath Imperial Center; Cryogenic Bunker
Day of Revival

Light. Blinding, Painful light. Kevin shied away and tried to raise his arms to shield his abused eyes. When the limbs refused to lift, Kevin bit the bullet and cracked an eye open. Some !@#$%^& had decided to install a light on the roof of the cryogenic chamber. Until it finished diagnostics and bringing him back to functioning condition, Kevin was a prisoner to the tender mercies of that light.

'I am gonna kill whoever built this chamber.' He thought to himself while flexing his mental muscles.

Amazingly, the process took a scant 30 seconds. The cryo-tube let out a sound eerily similar to that of a microwave completing its' order and popped the lid with a hiss of hydraulics. At the same instant whatever inhibitor preventing his suit from working was removed, and Kevin leapt out of the chamber with savage glee.

The first thing he did was crush the light bulb in an armored gauntlet.

Though it wasn't necessary, Kevin found himself absent-mindedly stretching his muscles. It was a psychological effect from realizing he hadn't moved in at least 5 years, probably closer to 50.

'First thing I need is the time and date.' He thought while striding down the deserted bunker's corridors. The ambient atmosphere had been replaced with nitrogen so the equipment wouldn't decay. Kevin noted the huge piles of accumulated dust with a passing glance, deigning to ignore entirely the swirling storms kicked up by his suit.

'Ah, the chronometer.' The Imperator stopped in front of a massive machine equivalent to an atomic clock. Interconnected processes allowed the machine to keep track of the precise amount of seconds and, using them form an exact day compared to some starting point.

"0100 Imperial Standard Time on November First, Imperial Year..." The Imperator's voice trailed off. The machine had to be wrong; there was no way so-called Operation Hydra had screwed up so badly. Deep down though, he knew it was right.

"...1400..."

---

A few hours later, the Imperator had swept the majority of the dust away. Next to the atmospheric switch there was a map of the whole facility; attached to this was a hand-written manifest of the main equipment stored within.

'Let's see here... 200 Obsolete Assault Rifles, a couple thousand Mark 14 variants, an ungodly amount of ammunition, power cores to last me several dozen lifetimes, food to cover the same, various small arms... Ooh, a few full sets of replacement armor? Those'll come in handy.'

The rest of the list looked like it had been completed at a separate date, with a different author and writing tool. 'Why the hell do I need a supersonic Fighter?! Oh, they gave me a Tank. A TANK. Internet node, some computers, mobile spy platforms, and last but not least... What the hell kind of joke is an Imperator class Nano-Upgrade facility?'

The point was moot, to say the least. What really mattered was the condition the outside world was in. With this in mind, the Imperator slung a Mk 14 Thunderburst over his suit's shoulder, palmed a few grenades and called the elevator.

What was left of his people?

OOC: Hm, time to celebrate his 500th+ birthday?

0700 IST (Imperial Standard Time)
November 1st, Imperial Year 1400
Central Imperial Center; Government District
Day of Awakening

The entrance to the underground complex was located behind a false wall on a rock face beneath a park in Imperial Center. Without highly focused detection equipment there was literally no way to find the exit short of blasting it open. Kevin eyed the rusted machinery with wariness and didn't even try to identify himself to the likely senile operating system.

He took a step forward and kicked the door right by the hinges.

It flew off, propelled by the force behind a suit's actuators. A think cloud of dust flew up from the fallen door, but Kevin hardly noticed. He strode across the tunnel to the dimly outlined exit. Weak sunlight from the dawn filtered through, giving the Imperator just enough light to see the burnt out husks of buildings looming high up above the park on both sides.

The Imperator stood silently for a long time. He seemed almost to be paying his respects to the broken shell of a city, the crown jewel of an empire he created from scratch.

'I wonder if there's any survivors around the country-side...' The thought dragged Kevin from the threatening abyss of despair.

'Only one way to find out.'

With determination stiffening his shoulders, Kevin turned and stumbled slowly back the way he came. The corpse of Imperial Center sullenly squatted behind him.

OOC: Lolfiller.

OOC: Filler is better than nothing--from you anyway.

1000 IST (Imperial Standard Time)
November 1st, Imperial Year 1400
Beneath Imperial Center; Cryogenic Bunker
Day of Awakening

There was a control box overlooking the entire cryo-storage room and all of the people interred within, which came out to a grand total of about 7. One pod was going through its' pre-startup routine even while Kevin watched with a sinking feeling as the implications of what he had seen began to sink through.

'Okay, so if the city's still there that means we didn't lose the siege, since the Posleen just raze conquered cities. But that means something else had to happen, because there's just no way in hell someone would abandon a cultural and industrial hub like Imperial Center.'

Kevin strained his thoughts to come up with a plausible reason. 'Okay, plague. That might explain the general state of disrepair but it's inherently unlikely some other nation wouldn't settle here after it died down. There's no way they'd miss the chance of claiming the canal.'

'Maybe the Posleen just gave up and left? But that wouldn't explain why the Imperium itself is like nowhere to be found.'

The Imperator shook his head derisively. His logic was turning circles; the only way to find out would be to go and look for the answer.

At that moment, Roxas' pod beeped softly.

---

Roxas was a veteran of thousands of battles. He had fought on multiple continents, smoked out guerrillas in the jungles of the Amazon, fought the forces of the undead to a standstill while racking up a five-figure body count, and assassinated several high-risk individuals.

And he was this close to pissing himself at the look on the Imperator's face.

'Peeved would be an understatement here,' the solder thought wryly to himself. The best term for the expression Kevin was wearing would be 'stay the $%&@ out of my way.' Unfortunately, Roxas was the only person to direct that look at, so he received its' whole force.

"Okay, tell me just what the $%&@ we are doing in the year 1400." The Imperator ground out through clenched teeth.

Roxas felt his own eyes going wide. 500 years was not according to Operation Hydra, which expected the Imperator to be up and running about within 10 to 20 years of his interment. Of course, no plan ever survives contact with the enemy.

"Sir, please believe me when I say I have no clue whatsoever." Roxas said in a soothing tone. "Honestly. There is no way this should have happened. I would recommend contacting the descendants of the proper authorities to fi-"

"And that's why your awake." The Imperator interrupted smoothly. "We're going to go for a stroll, and try to find anybody in the vicinity that's ALIVE. Hopefully we're not the last group of living people in the world because if we are, I swear to that Christian God that I will murder every last alien in the galaxy."

Without further delay, the Imperator spun on one heel and headed towards the armory, uttering dark curses to himself the whole way. Roxas stared at his retreating back for a few seconds before shrugging almost comically and following his leader.

1100 IST (Imperial Standard Time)
November 1st, Imperial Year 1400
Beneath Imperial Center; Armory
Day of Awakening

Roxas entered the vast room behind his leader and let out an appreciative whistle. The arsenal was two or three hundred yards long, and nearly that wide. Fully three quarters of the space was dedicated to infantry portable weapons; the rest reserved for an Armored Combat Suit repair forge.

The Imperator was muttering to himself about various B-rated apocalypse movies while expertly snapping attachments onto the rails and ports of his Mk-14 Thunderburst. Iron Sights were rendered superfluous as a holographic camera-link to his suit was installed. A silencer screwed easily enough onto the weapon's barrel, followed by a folding bayonet. A low-slung high velocity grenade-launcher completed the heavily customized weapon. An artificial sentience similar to the presence in Armored Suits was housed in the gun. It ran a self-diagnostic confirming all parts to be operational and the ornate runes inscribed on the gun flared from a blinking red to majestic gold.

Meanwhile, Roxas was searching through the prototype weaponry department. He was always a sucker for new and improved ways of killing people. A specific rifle caught his eye; once destined to be the next generation of Imperial Assault Rifle. The project had been shelved when the aliens had forced the Imperium to go with what was a tried and true weapon.

'As good a time as any to try it out, I suppose.' Roxas thought with a mischievous smile and picked the gun up. Immediately it reacted to his presence, communicating with his suit at unbelievably fast levels. A vocal package prepared with the gun began to play through his implants, letting him know the capabilities and limitations in a voice identical to the gunny on Mail Call.

'This here is the SIR; short for Standard Infantry Rifle. It's got two barrels, but unless you're a complete idiot you noticed that. First one shoots at 8 RPS, fully automatic classic 7.62 rounds. Now if you're a sissy without Power Armor you're probably sweating the recoil right about now. Well, don't. Carbon Weaves and revolutionary recoil absorbing materials reduce the load to negligible levels.

'Moving on; the second barrel shoots same sized swear-to-!@#$@#$-god Euuu-ranium rounds shaped for Armor Piercing capability. These bad boys shred up the target when they go in. Anything short of a tank gets hit with some of these, they'll know they've been kissed. Semi-auto on this trigger, so pull it as much as you want.

'You know the drill for attachments. Rails and Straps, all available for your customization when you're out killing the scum of the world. Good luck soldier.'

And that settled it for Roxas. He cradled the rifle like a newborn child as he picked out standard grenades and the outdated Gorgon Pistol. Such a gun was obviously ahead of its' time and deserved to be used, not left to accumulate dust.

"So, you've met SIR." Kevin's voice sounded from right behind Roxas. He jumped and turned, instinctively coming to attention.

"The rifle is a SIR, if that's what you mean."

The Imperator shook his head. "You don't get it, do you? That rifle is the only one of its' kind. Not only is it a wonderful weapon, it's got the first truly self-aware program in the history of the Imperium. And," the Imperator continued, "it's been turned on with nothing to keep it occupied for the past 500 years."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Might want to try talking to it." The Imperator walked towards the elevators chuckling to himself.

Perturbed, Roxas probed through his suit's mental link to the rifle and was immediately met with a denial of access. He tried again; same response. All the diagnostics were being run to his suit, but something didn't let him get a closer examination of the rifle's computer.

'Uhm... Anything in there?' Roxas felt utterly silly thinking at a rifle. The embarrassment gave way to astonishment as the thing responded in a neutral male voice.

'Yes. This is SIR.'

'Oh. So, you're my rifle.'

'That is correct, meatbag. I require an organic gestalt to operate me.'

Meatbag? That was too much. Roxas stopped the conversation for the time being and hurried after the Imperator. There were far more important tasks to accomplish than establish a friendship with his rifle.

OOC: Great story

OOC: Freaking awesome mate! Keep it up!

OOC: Meatbag... hahahahaha. That's a good one.

Keep it going, mate.

0200 IST (Imperial Standard Time)
November 1st, Imperial Year 1400
Central Imperial Center
Day of Awakening

Once more, sullen squatting buildings cast their blaming stares at the two surviving Imperial Soldiers. Being the only two human beings in a sprawling metropolis once home to 50 million was not an experience the Imperator OR Roxas wished to repeat. Things formed in clouds of mist at the edge of Kevin's vision; when he turned to look there was nothing.

Whispers seemed to come out of nowhere, speaking their condemnation to the soldiers. The souls of the damned had awoken and were eager to cause as much pain as possible.

'Your fault...'

'Why did you run?'

'Where were you?'

'Why didn't you help us?'

'Traitor.'

At this point the Imperator wasn't sure whether or not the voices were real. He shook his head angrily and strode faster, heading towards the Imperial Record Center. If the city was still standing, there was bound to be some sort of record of the war inside. And maybe, just maybe an explanation for why the entire city was deserted.

---

Kevin pressed one hand on the door and pushed slightly. Rusted hinges squealed in tortured protest as for the first time in years they scraped against each other. Almost grudgingly the door gave way to Kevin's gentle, almost reverent touch without ripping off of its' frame.

<We're in.> The voice came across the Vox Channel to Roxas unnaturally clear. Of course, there was no other broadcasts on any frequencies, so naturally the lack of interference would manifest itself. It reminded Roxas of what he lost when he volunteered to cryo-sleep with his leader.

Roxas clutched the SIR to his chest more closely and continued scanning for targets.

<Query: Is something wrong, fleshling?>

<This place, it gives me the creeps.> The feeling of stupidity Roxas felt when talking to a rifle lessened somewhat from exposure.

<Statement: I understand that seeing the decay of everything you have fought for may be mildly disappointing.> The rifle's tone had a slight undertone which convinced Roxas it was all-too-aware of the cruelty of the words it spoke.

<Ironic Observation: One would assume developing the nation only to find it destroyed is far more difficult.>

That gave Roxas pause in his own silent funk. Obviously the Imperator had to be feeling some sort of disappointment, seeing all his achievements in such a state.

'After all, it's one thing to blow up zombies. It's another entirely to deal with bureaucrats and not lose your soul in the process.'

Roxas musings were interrupted as the Imperator pointed across the room. One particular section of the library was a sight better then the rest; the paint was only slightly chipped off of the walls and various chairs even remained in states of functionality in front of senile computers.

<There. That has to be the section with recent Imperial History. Hopefully it's not on those sputtering relics.> Ancient Library computers were even now broadcasting conflicting signals showing massive fragmenting of their hard-drive and flaws in the operating system amplified over time into near crippling feedback loops.

As one, the Imperator and Roxas started picking up books, searching for the most recent history. Many of the books had nothing to do with records; some were biographies ('The glorious Consul?' Roxas mused.), whereas others were geographic representations of the Imperium in varying periods. One map in particular showed the Imperium stretching into Texas and California, dated as Imperial Year 1042. Apparently in that time period Diberia had ceased to exist as had various smaller states in the world.

Roxas could only surmise it was the aftermath of the Posleen War.

<What's this?> Roxas broadcast to the Imperator. Beneath the latest map was a scroll of parchment, its' edges yellowed and cracked with age. Roxas unrolled the scroll ever-so-carefully and wrinkled his nose in puzzlement at the characters written on the page.

The Imperator took one look and (gently) grabbed the document from Roxas' hands.

<It's a dialect of High Gothic. Which is a dialect of Imperial.> At the look Roxas gave him, Kevin shrugged. <There are a LOT of dialects from Imperial.>

In a clear, resonating voice the Imperator began to read aloud.


---


OOC: So, I'm thinking 'italics' is thoughts, <these> are Vox Channel communications, and "quotes" are normal speech.

OOC: I can't wait for the next installment

0200 IST (Imperial Standard Time)
November 1st, Imperial Year 1400
Central Imperial Center
Day of Awakening

"One would go so far as to say the Anointed One was the salvation of the Imperium, after the reconquest of the alien blight region. Under his guidance, the Holy Imperium managed to reclaim all of its' pre-invasion territory and more after the Imperial Succession Crisis in 970."

Roxas mouthed 'Succession Crisis?' and looked askance at the Imperator. Kevin shrugged and kept reading.

"After putting down the rioting supporters of former Consul Martinez, the rightful government began a program of questioning the remaining government officials. Unfortunately a significant percentage were deemed to be unloyal to the new regime and had to be replaced with more like-minded individuals. Details of the interrogation techniques can be found in Broadcast 0P51, and the attached Scrolls of Schuler.

Signed,
Damien Schuler."

At that, Kevin put down the scroll on the table. It immediately rolled itself back to the position Roxas found it in. The Imperator sat in an ancient chair, feeling sick to his stomach. A purge had gone through the Imperium in the waning days of the Invasion. Who had taken control of his government and butchered his friends?

His train of thought was interrupted when Roxas returned from rummaging around the corner of the room. In his arms he held various scrolls, which he set down with an amount of reverence on the table in front of the Imperator.

"If the answers aren't in that scroll, maybe they'll be in these?" Kevin nodded at his line of logic.

With an intake of breath, Kevin unrolled the first scroll and began to read. As he did, he couldn't help but wonder.

'Do I even want to know the answer?'

OOC: Lolmorefiller. D:

OOC: 'Just' filler, eh? Filler is just as important to the plot, overall.

0210 IST (Imperial Standard Time)
November 1st, Imperial Year 1400
Central Imperial Center
Day of Awakening

"Methods of torturing redeeming the heretics of their sins; as penned by Damien Schuler:

Step One; Solitary Confinement. For lower level heretics of lesser importance, a dark cell with minimal outside contact is to be desired. Trays of bland food are to be only slid into the chamber when the subject is asleep and the plate must be the same texture as the walls. For higher level heretics with confessions worthy of the cost, sensory deprivation chambers are to be used for a period not less then two weeks of continuous isolation.

Step Two; Interrogation. The accused will be asked their crimes and what they have to say for themselves. Should their crimes be petty in comparison to others, kill them without public affair. Should their crimes be horrendous or the accused is a high-profile offender, move on to step three.

Step Three; Public Flogging. After tying the heretic to a post and announcing their refusal to accept the grace of god with piety and willingness to repent, whip the subject into a state of unconsciousness. After this, pour diluted sewage water upon the resultant wounds in order to match inner sin to outward pestilence.

Step Four; Nail Extraction. Fingernails and Toenails are not required where Heretics go; thus it is the duty of the presiding Inquisitor to rip these superfluous instruments bodily from the condemned. Additionally the nails themselves may subsequently be used to pierce the exposed skin.

Step Five; Pressure Redemption. The subject will be placed within a pressure chamber and alternately exposed to extremely low pressure and abnormally high pressure. For lesser subjects; submergence until almost dead will suffice. Repeat until the public tires of. Use in conjunction with Step Three if water contains impurities such as salt.

Step Six; Public Branding. Firebrands spelling out the person's crime are to be etched onto the skin of the condemned one letter at a time. Sensitive Regions such as the armpits, groin, and knees may be targeted for extra effect.

Step Seven; Execution. At this point the heretic is likely a broken shell of a person. Put them out of their misery with Imperial Steel, be it a firearm or cutting implement.

These measures should allow us to permanently deal with the former regime, in conjunction with the disappearance of the Imperator. With him out of the picture, none exist to rally public adulation.

Damien Schuler."

Immediately after reading the scroll, Kevin tossed it to the table and ripped off his helmet. He unceremoniously vomited violently over the ancient floor, spraying the remains of a 500 year old meal throughout the abandoned Library. Roxas wasn't much better off, fighting off dry heaves. Belatedly he realized the last thing he had was extremely hot as it came back up.

Finished with his attack of disgust and horror, Kevin unbent and wiped his mouth with the back of an armored gauntlet. The Schuler Scroll sat on the table only partially rolled up.

'Some portions of history are better left archived and forgotten.' Kevin thought with a very real shudder. For the moment the Imperator rolled the document up and tossed it with disgust to the other side of the table. Reluctantly Kevin picked up the next scroll. As he unrolled it he noticed the title; 'The Modern Era of the Holy Imperium.'

"Assuming this title isn't misleading, I think we've found our history." Kevin told Roxas while unfurling the document.

---

OOC: Stillmorefiller.

OOC: Its good filler! Filling in the blanks for us.

This is an awesome RP, mate. Wish I could join! (Havn't read the books myself. Where do you find these cool sci-fi books anyway, amongst all of the numerous others?)

This deserves a JERREY ROUGH AWESOME SEAL OF AWESOMENESS!

OOC: PM me about it and I'll try to explain where I'm going with the story. Maybe you can start your own short-story in the same universe.

OOC: I'd ask for details tyoo...but I doubt I would have the time if I tried to take on THAt much...