The Great Belligerency [Round 4: Static]

Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.

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After four minutes or so of wandering the ruined stadium, Cole had come to a conclusion.

There were entirely too many roaches.

They were nothing more than an inconvenience, but after involuntarily collecting thirty-five of them, they were an inconvenience he could no longer ignore. He grew some moth wings and began flapping them to hover a small distance over the ground, out of the cockroaches' reach.

"Much better," he said to no one in particular. He briefly wondered why he was bothering to search the ruined stadium at all; what did he hope to find? He could simply fly away to...

To where?

Even if this were still the Eternity Plateau, where would he find any of the others, or the missing weapon? And if the round had changed while he was unconscious, he had even less direction.

A brief glance at the ground revealed a growing swarm of cockroaches below him. Cole groaned; of course, his scent was still drawing them. If they couldn't reach him, that simply meant they would gather below him. Perhaps it would be better to fly away after all.

"Target sighted! Open fire!"

The sudden shout clarified the matter perfectly. It would definitely be better to fly away before the shooting started. Cole flapped his moth wings as hard as he could, and flew towards the opposite side of the stadium.

"I should have just used dragonfly wings," he muttered under his breath as several bullets flew past him. "These are much more tiring for long distances."

He soon discovered that the other side of the stadium was no friendlier.

"The Outsider's headed this way! And man, is it ugly. Break out the heavy artillery!"

If there was one phrased more unnerving than "Open fire!", it was "Break out the heavy artillery!" Cole flapped his wings harder, striving to gain height before he learned exactly what sort of heavy artillery they had.

He had climbed perhaps a foot higher into the air when they fired the rocket. He didn't think he could fly out of its range in time, and even if he did, there were too many bullets for his liking.

Cole wished he was somewhere else.

And then a small bee granted his wish.

***

"You're telling me it just vanished?" the commander asked, annoyed. "Tell me, Simonson. How many rockets did we have on hand coming into this mission?"

"F-five, ma'am," Simonson replied nervously. He was twice the commander's size, but at the moment that didn't help him feel any safer.

"And now we have four, and no dead Outsider to show for it." She glared at the soldier. "Wonderful use of resources there, Simonson."

"Ma'am, with all due respect, Simonson fired that rocket on my orders." A middle-aged man walking on a cane and wearing a chef's hat stepped forward. "The Outsider had wings, if we hadn't fired then it might have flown away. We just didn't realize it could vanish like that, too."

The commander wasn't any happier at this news.

"Then, Mr. Whistler, you can take responsibility for getting a new rocket to replace the one we lost."

Whistler saluted.

"Understood, ma'am. I'll get on it soon as I finish makin' tonight's dinner," he replied.

"Don't take that tone with me, Whistler. You may be a good cook, but that doesn't mean you can take your other duties lightly."
She turned back to the other soldier she was displeased with. "Simonson!"

"Y-yes, ma'am?" the larger man stammered, saluting.

"Take a squad and scour the area for that Outsider."

"B-but, it could be anywhere!" Simonson protested. "It just disappeared!"

"Exactly. It could be anywhere. Which means it could be within a ten-block radius. Get looking."

"Y-yes, sir!"

He marched off, and two dozen equally nervous men followed him. Whistler watched them leave, then turned back to the commander.

"So what's our fearless leader doing in the meantime?" he asked, smirking slightly.

"I'm reporting this to HQ. I'm going myself to make sure they take it seriously."

"Fair enough, ma'am," Whistler said with a shrug. "I'll be sure to have dinner ready by the time you get back."