Meteor Soldiers - Episode 1-4

Bullet after bullet ripped through the air as the clan of young adults took refuge behind the van with Mr. Tokusatsu.

            “I noticed them just in time!” said Chess. “They tailed us from down the road!”

            “I can’t believe the military has caught up with us!” Corey said.

            “The military?” said Gina hopefully. “Thank God! They’ll save us.” Corey risked a glance through the driver’s window, heart shuddering like berserk, and saw three soldiers in army greens with pistols aimed at him. He strained his eyes to see what was odd about the cadets. The second he noticed that their faces were grey, the glass before him was shattered. He retracted to safety like a stunned turtle.

            “What the crack-bleaching hell are those things!?”

            “Hellmarchers,” answered Tokusatsu, daring a glance: “The inhuman drones of the army, the true underlying army.” He drew a humble pistol from his coat, giving Corey hope that was shredded when he noticed the man’s quivering hands. “I could once fire a weapon, but not any more. There are three Hellmarchers, and this gun has exactly three bullets.”

            “It’s almost empty?” said Burt in his typically whiny voice. “Didn’t you come to the camp prepared?”

            “Yes, but I saw some cats on the way over.”

            “Gina’s a perfect shot!” exclaimed Chess, turning to her while still crouching. “In training, you shot five targets dead in the bullseye!”

            “Well, I don’t know...” She pondered as she brushed hair from her face. “If I’m the best shot here...” She snatched the gun from the man’s hand, then stood tall and proud. She then swivelled away from the van and aimed the pistol at the ground. With three resonating bursts, she spent each round in the earth, tossing clumps of wet ground like salad.

            She faced Chess. “What the hell? You said I was a perfect shot!”

            “Aaaand we’re buggered,” said Corey. “I wonder if death feels anything like missing one of those events that advertisers say you can’t afford to miss.” From around the van’s corner he spotted the three grey humanoids stalk ever closer. Their eyes looked beady, their skin a mixture of scaly and scalded, and their approach spelt death. In his hour of demise, Corey could take solace in the fact that he never once used chatroom acronyms while offline, and only regretted that he hadn’t suffixed more words with ‘gasmic’.

            Sooner than expected, a figure sprang from the bushes. Only it was heading towards the Hellmarchers, arching through the air like a black panther pouncing. He could barely jump in fright before the figure landed on foot, blade horizontally outstretched. They darted past the leftmost foe, slicing it at the waist. A small splatter of green goo spat from its hip before it fell onto its knees, then face.

            “Double-u tee eff?” said Chess.

            The remaining two foes twisted 120 degrees to face the attacker, and began unloading their weapons. Fearlessly, the attacker stopped and spun on one heel. Corey briefly glimpsed his saviour, noticing they looked pretty damn human. Their hair was the brightest red, standing against the dark setting like a fly on a cupcake. Their body begged to differ; cloaked in black as it was, he couldn’t distinguish their figure. Combined with their ambiguous hair length and speed of the action, this meant he couldn’t determine a gender.

            “We’re being saved!” Gina exclaimed. “Awesomegasmic!”

            The rescuer lopped the second Hellmarcher’s head clean-off as they span on the spot. Clean-off was a strong phrase, considering the volcano of fluoro green vital fluid that burst upwards. The attacker penetrated the third foe’s chest while its headless brethren still stood. At that, the fight was over.

            Corey realised that his new hero was female as she dug her boot heel into the monster’s chest and unearthed her blade. She flung it once to send the blood flying off and sheathed it behind her before leaving the massacre, headed for the van. Though she was black from the neck down, her hair was a beacon of tomato light - parted on either side though still only ear-length. Her skin looked pale, unhealthy even, and her chin was flat but strong. Most peculiarly, her eyes were faintly glossed over with black the way Mr. Tokusatsu’s were with white.

            “Don’t kill us!” Burt yelped as she approached. “I’ll give you anything you want! Money? Obedience? Fat man sex?”

            “You showed up just in time, Penta,” Tokusatsu said casually. The young woman simply nodded.

            “Ooh, that’s a pretty name,” said Gina. “I like your hair and that you saved us.”

            “I take it you expected her to show up?” said Chess.

            “More or less,” Tokusatsu said. “Penta is one of my few allies in this great war, though luckily I now have four extra.”

            “Now hold on,” said Corey. “I’m thankful you saved us, but only on an I’ll-wash-your-van or massage-above-the-waist level. I really don’t see myself helping you fight.”

            “Will you ride up front?” Tokusatsu asked Penta, indifferent to Corey’s remark.

            “No, I’ll stalk the bushes as usual,” she said in a mid-pitch drone.

            “Suit yourself.” He turned to Corey. “You want answers? Then you will fight, because after learning the truth you will want to. If not, you may freely repackage your testicles and mail them to the creator with a receipt. That little ambush was simple proof that we’re sitting ducks here, and the base isn’t too far away.”

            He circled the van, and the others followed. Within two hours Corey had witnessed human death and alien invasion, not to mention a girl with superhuman speed and agility. And apparently, answers wouldn’t come without more conflict? Could anything this old man had to say possibly give him closure? He’d just had a front-row seat to a violent decapitation, which simply shocked him. Had the monsters been human, it would have damaged him. But most of what had happened that night just plain confused him.

            They reached the van door, which Mr. Tokusatsu slid creakily open. “Back into the truck - we’re heading to one of the most secluded places on Earth. Once there, I will tell you things. In thirty years time, you will remember today’s date as the day you learnt those things. What I am to tell you will forever warp your perception of existence.”

            “Just what I need,” Chess mumbled as he climbed in. “More metaphysical bullshit to deal with.”

---

“They escaped!?” roared General Tard. “God, am I the only non-retarded person in this army?”

            “I don’t know,” said Scorch, “Private Idiot is fairly bright. And Ensign Arsehole isn’t too stupid, but he’s a bit of a... Well, you’ve met Ensign Arsehole.”

            “Our whole plan is ruined!” General Tard had the miraculous ability to speak with a slack drawl even while yelling. His verbal rage boomed through the cavernous room, outside the small circle of light and off the dark walls. “We ain’t up shit creek here; we’re sailing the botulism sea on an arse raft headed straight for a tsunami of pube!”

            At least he hasn’t started making up words. Yet. “Spare the aggression,” Scorch said. “It’s just a couple of kids that escaped. And don’t worry about Tokusatsu; if he gets any older, his balls will need to redeem their Visa to stay on the floor.”

            “This is your fault!” Tard yelled, turning away from Scorch. “If you hadn’t killed that kid then-”

            “He had to die,” replied a sordid voice from outside the light. “He knew of our plan. Would you have had him expose it, General?” This voice sounded of a tongueless creature trying to pronounce human words, or a Texan senator trying to pronounce ‘nuclear’. When the being spoke, the cicadas ceased their chatter and the room felt unsafe, even to Scorch.

            “Killing him in plain sight was moronic!” said General Tard. “Maybe instead of sharpening your scissor-hands you should sharpen you wit and-”

            A claw fastened around the general’s neck as the robed terror jumped into the light. “Human parasite!” it rasped. “Were it not for orders I’d crush your windpipe right here!” The human’s eyes bulged as he fought for breath.

            “Enough!” said Scorch, feebly trying to bring order. “This isn’t helping! Look, they’re just a bunch of kids who are more knee-deep in chaos right now than we are. If we strike, we can erase them before they become a threat.”

            “Yes, I quite like that idea...” said the creature, releasing Tard if only to rub his claws together in glee. “Today will be a great day for evil.”

            “Evil?” said Scorch as General Tard sputtered on the floor. “We’re only villainous in their eyes. We consider our actions to be righteous, remember?”

            Tard eyed Scorch curiously as he forced himself up, then the two humans and the creature swapped curious glares. Finally, the levee broke and the trio burst into laughter.

            “Oh yes, I am righteous,” said the creature through a distorted cackle. “Whenever I force a child to watch me rape his mother or fart on homeless people, I am doing Jesus’ work.” Even Tard was laughing through his slightly-choked throat.

            “Yes, yes... But seriously,” said Scorch, wiping away a tear. “We’re going to kill those kids, right?”

            “Oh yeah,” said Tard, stifling a chuckle. “They’re dead.”

---

The swamp’s dead trees and reeds scrolled steadily past as the van crawled on. Corey saw the desolate land roll past through a tiny opening in the van’s door - if this bog really was the safest place on Earth, it could only be because no enemy could possibly inhabit it. Or maybe the ghostly mist and claw-like canopy served to scare baddies away. But regarding the hooded monster he’d spied on earlier that night, any dire being of the ‘New Army’ would sooner thrive in this ghoulish place than run from it.

            “Are we almost there?” Burt asked grumpily. “I need to evacuate my bowels.”

            “Trust me,” said Chess without lifting his head, “if I was stationed in your bowels, I’d evacuate without awaiting your approval.”

            “Exactly,” said Burt, “which is why I need to transfer the inmates before they attempt a prison break.”

            I kinda hope we drive off a cliff, thought Corey, keeping his eyes outside. Hereabouts the trees started to huddle, which logically meant they were getting deeper into the bog. This theory was supplemented by the thickening of the fog and the inertia as the van toiled through trenches of mud. Minutes later, the vehicle slowed to a complete stop with the whine of an ancient engine. The second the van’s life signs had completely vanished, Corey forced the door open and stepped into the wilderness, not expecting to see what he saw.

            Before the parked van stood a looming metal structure, appearing to be a large hexagonal prism with a skyward-pointing fin. This iron appendage stood at least eight metres high, with a dull maroon stripe running from the tip down onto the prism base before sharply turning vertical. If ever this large mechanical... thing had sparkled, it was before decades of dust settled onto its dreary surface. Regardless, the most amazing aspect of the machine is that Corey just knew that most of it remained hidden by the mud and twisted tree stumps.

            “Welcome to my home,” announced Mr. Tokusatsu while stepping out from the driver’s seat. Burt, Gina and Chess emerged behind Corey to observe this wacky abode for themselves. Penta stepped out from the shrubs, having seemingly chased the van for the past hour. It had been made evident by this point that she wasn’t a textbook human, even though none of the four escapees had spoken to her.

            “Are we really safe here?” Corey asked. “I mean, they followed us from the base to the point where we refuelled.”

            “I’ve got an idea!” said Gina, eyes widening with hope. “Let’s give the enemy some quilts as a peace offering. However, we’ll secretly infect the quilts with lethal diseases that will then spread through their ranks.”

            “There’s no time,” said Corey. “And where would we even find such lethal diseases?”

            “I have diarrhoea,” said Burt.

            “God, can you go five minutes without mentioning your faeces?” asked Chess unenthusiastically. “Besides, diarrhoea doesn’t spread.”

            “Sure it does. Just use a butter knife.”

            “Enough of this arseholery,” said Tokusatsu sternly. He basked in their silence momentarily, like a teacher asserting his control over a room full of students. “Now, this is HQ, where you’ll be briefed on the current situation.” He retrieved a remote control from his pocket and pointed it at the metal shape. With the press of a button, a square panel on the base jutted forward and slid across with the screech of shifting gears. “Come on in,” he said tonelessly. “Don’t bother wiping your feet; upon learning the truth, you’ll never feel truly clean again...”

            Corey and his former classmates exchanged timid glances. Then, drawing deep breaths, they followed the aging man into their destiny.

            “And please don’t touch the walls,” he added. “They’ve just been painted.”