Some Kind of Paladin

PROLOGUE:

They call me a paladin. Some type of Holy Warrior. Bullshit. I do the job that none of these chickenshits can handle. I kill. These days I don't lack for jobs to do either.

Things haven't always been this way. I even recall, in my oldest and furthest memories, a time when the troubles were still yet to come. I was two. I had a family that loved me. That's all gone now. Some fuckwit archaeologists uncovered some type of "portal" to another dimension. For almost 20 years we've been dealing with this fucking plague called The Swarm. Bloodthirsty little fuckers too. The good thing about the Swarm is that they're primitive. Swords and shit. They seemed to think they had some sort of magic or some shit when they first arrived, and maybe in their world they did. Not in my house. They die like anyone, although it can take a few shots. This new set of baddies though, they do have something special.

The Necromancers are able to raise the dead to fight as zombies. Sounds quack, right? Its not. They raise Swarm and Human alike, and are bent on total destruction. Or so we've been taught. Who the fuck knows what a guy who raises the dead wants? I've never seen a Necromancer, and they better hope I never do, but there really ain't much special about the zombies. They die, easier in their own way than the Swarm. Sure, they take a lot more work, but zombies are slow. Real slow. And contrary to what you might have read in a fantasy book, once they lose their heads they're dead. None of these headless zombies chasing you, they're dead. Still they are dangerous, and bullets have a small effect. That's why the militias have worse luck than I do confronting the Nec-Spawned.

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Location: Earth (Terran Occupied Area)
Date: Christmas Eve, 2091

"Fuck Mick, it's colder than a witch's teat mate!" A stocky man in a dark wool uniform whined.

"Ya, it seems to get colder every winter. Like the cold grip of death." Mick, another stocky man with a thick accent, replied. "It's a bad omen. Like every year the damn Necs are gaining power. And we sit here and freeze."

"Fuck, I never thought about that!" The first man, known as Grimes, seemed actually shaken a bit. He nervously resumed his job scanning the area to the south. He didn't want any Nec-Spawn or Swarm to sneak up on his watch.

"Ya'know Grimes, I almost..." Mick started to say something, but he stopped suddenly. He was staring at something farther out to the south.

"Fuck, what is it Mick?! Nec-Spawn?! Swarm?!" Grimes was scared. He had never fought either before, but he knew that few made it back alive when they went to fight. Even though there was an entire barracks within 15 minutes, he disliked the thought of meeting Nec-Spawn or Swarm while it was just he and Mick on the wall. Mick was old-school though. Mick had been fighting since the Swarm had first shown their ugly skin on Earth. Mick was the one person he would trust with his life.

"Ya, its Nec-Spawn. I need you to run to the barracks Grimes. Wake General Tsun and tell him we need to find the Paladin."

Mick's voice was tight. Tighter than Grimes had ever heard it, and it scared him. Mick was always calm. That's what had given Grimes the courage to endure the eight months of wall duty he'd been on. To see Mick in a state that showed concern, that was nearly too much.

"Fuck, I'm going!" Grimes nearly yelped as he turned and started off at a full run. By the time he had gone a hundred yards, Mick was already ringing the Bell.



By the time Grimes had reached the barracks, it was already a flurry of motion. Troops gearing up for a fight, humvees hooking up trailer artillery, everywhere preparations being made. Grimes found his way to where General Tsun was watching the activity.
"Fu...er...General, I have a message sir." Grimes said.

"I don't have time to waste, soldier." Tsun replied harshly.

"It's from the wall." Grimes interjected forcefully.

"In that case, spit it out!" Tsun was taken aback at the fact that the message was from the wall. Only two men were stationed on the wall at any given time. And only one man would be willing to be left alone there. That meant that if he sent someone with a message, something was wrong.

"Sir, Mick...err...Sgt. Dundar, asked me to tell you that we need the Paladin." Grimes told him.

"I see..." Tsun replied, then turned to an orderly and said, "Sound the horns!"

The man went off quickly and seconds later the loud sounds of the air horns was heard. Seeing that as a sign of dismissal, Grimes headed back out into the chaos. But it wasn't the activity he had expected. Everything was being dismantled and taken down. Big trucks were being loaded to the ground with everything that could be hauled off. Away from the wall.
Turning, Grimes saw Tsun heading toward a parked jeep at a brisk pace flanked by four guards.  Grimes ran up to them.

"General, whats going on? Shouldn't we be heading TOWARD the wall? Why are we moving everything away from it?" Grimes was exasperated.

"Soldier, it is too late to hold the wall. We are heading inland to Fortress Skane. From there we shall hold the Nec-Spawn at bay. The wall is already lost." Tsun was very matter-of-fact, but he seemed shaken a bit.

"But, Sir, what about Mick? What about Sgt. Dundar?! He is expecting us to come help him! We can't leave him there!" Grimes was shouting by this time.

"Mick made his choice. He knew what was going to happen, and he knows that no one is going to come to his aide. He saw something in you that he thought was worth saving. That is why you are here instead of dying at his side at the wall. Unless you are going to make his sacrifice worth nothing, you need to get packed and be ready to leave in the next two minutes when the caravan pulls out. Do I make myself clear?" Tsun sounded like a very arrogant man at this point, which infuriated Grimes even more.

"Crystal, Sir, fucking crystal." Grimes turned and stalked off, back toward the wall.



BANG! The sound of his .50 caliber IMI Desert Eagle was like a cannon. The effect was similar to a cannon as well. The Nec-Spawn whose torso he had aimed at exploded from the chest outward.
"Come and fight me Nec! Quit sending your hell-spawn and fight me!" Mick shouted a challenge at the unseen Necromancer controlling the masses of undead zombies.

Most attacks by Nec-Spawn were controlled over distance. The Necromancer didn't take many chances with leading full assaults. This attack was different though. This was not a normal attack. Unless Mick was mistaken, this attack was a "Var-Ash Vanos", which was an attack made by one of the Council, in which he proved his worthiness to become the new Chancellor. If that was the case, this attack would be hard to hold back. A Var-Ash Vanos was usually backed by the full might of the Council-member's house, and they would stop at nothing short of total destruction to prove the worthiness of the Council-member.
Still, if he could hold off this attack long enough for the Paladin to get word, he'd consider his sacrifice well worth it for the hundred, perhaps thousands that would die otherwise.

Atleast he'd managed to get the boy Grimes out in time.  Grimes was rough, but he'd make an excellent officer in a few years, hell, maybe even a fucking politician.  Not a bad soldier, inexperienced sure, but his true value lay in his hidden genius.  Many were the nights that they had shared Wall Duty and had discussed the philosophies of war and governing.  At first, Mick had failed to believe that Grimes really knew what he was about, and thought that he had overheard enough from others to make him seem more intelligent than he truly was.  But Grimes was a problem solver, not unlike Mick, or the Paladin.  The Paladin, now, he was a problem solver of a whole different mold.  Mick had long since pondered the question of why any god would be so damn cruel as to give anyone, Man, Swarm, or Nec-Spawn, an enemy such as the Paladin, but he always came to the conclusion that any such god just liked to see a spectacle.  Speaking of spectacles, he was going to need to pull one off himself if the Paladin didn't show up soon.

Mick's .50 cal sounded again as what once was the head of a zombie, and before that the head of a poor Watcher on Wall Duty, exploded into a fine pink mist.  He spun, the bowie in his other hand coming up in an arc that left the head of a second zombie dangling by a thin flap of rotting skin as the zombie dropped to the ground.  He grunted slightly in satisfaction as he noted that he had yet to allow a single walking corpse to find it's way to his side of the wall.  He was helped by the design and location of the wall, which left only about two dozen ways over it, and each place was guarded, this spot was the farthest from normal hostile activity, which was the reason for only a couple Watchers.  The more active hotzones had full garrisons at the wall itself.  Still, he couldn't hold out much longer, regardless of the design or location of the wall.  He was getting too old for this, and his body could definitely tell it.  Every minute longer he was out here left him slowing down more and more, and he could hardly keep his breath.  Another five, maybe ten, minutes and he'd not last long enough to see the Paladin arrive.

Mick heard before seeing the silver-hued bladed boomerang pass by his ear en route to a bloody decapitation of a former Swarm-turned-Nec-Spawn warrior.  He ducked as the blade came back around and nestled into the gloved hand of the seven-foot giant that now stood at his side.  The Paladin was more impressive each time Mick saw him, which granted had only been three other times.  Still, that was three times more than any other soldier had seen him and been alive to tell of it.  The Paladin unholstered a pair of matched .50 cals, and with barely a nod to Mick jumped over the side of the wall, guns roaring out molten defiance.  Mick picked his way to the edge of the wall and looked down.  He saw the Paladin slam his two empty .50s into their holsters, and unsling the hammer from his back, right as the Nec-Spawn closed on him.  A vicious side swing from right to left sent a half dozen of them flying into the air, most disfigured beyond recognition.  The back swing produced similar results, and as one the Nec-Spawn paused their relentless push forward.

The Necromancer was uncertain.  Surely the Necromancer knew who he was facing now, and was clearly not looking forward to the prospect.  It really had no choice though, a fact that neither the Paladin, nor Mick could see, but that existed nonetheless.  So just as suddenly as they had paused their assualt, they renewed it with added vigor.  Losses in this battle meant nothing, if only a single zombie stood after the battle was over, it was a win, so long as the wall had been breached.  Killing the dread-giant would be an added bonus.