NBA Dramatique: No Deal

HORNETS were en route back to the Hive. They didn't have a problem with traveling - that was just a part of war. This trip had been a forced march, though, and it neither began nor ended well.

They had been resting within the Hive for several days. The precision attacks and clever maneuvering that they employed had brought them several impressive victories, and it now seemed as though they could choose their own course through the war, as no one had sought to attack them as they waited at home.

Four days in, warning sirens had sounded and HORNETS had been slow to react. The Hive was bombed extensively by a mercenary air force called the Red Death. HORNETS had not spent much time studying this enemy before being attacked as their threat level had been estimated as insignificant, so it was after the attack that most of the information on the Red Death became known.

Too little, too late.

HORNETS contracted a construction company to repair the external damage to the Hive and hit the road while repairs were underway. Hoping to drown their sorrows in blood, HORNETS made plans to attack a low-grade enemy while traveling that would boost morale and provide an easy enemy to get live practice against. They chose the wrong day to pick a fight with the General. They had found his base camp and surrounded it and under most circumstances would have made short work of this under-developed squad. This time it was not to be. The General had wisely broken from his traditional patterns, and innovation plus luck had handed him the victory.

After two unexpected and uncharacteristic losses, the young commando unit was headed back home. The sky at sunset was rose-red and clear. After many long hours they reached the Hive, eager for sleep and showers, but instead found an assembly of demonic soldiers camped out lazily in front of their headquarters.

It was no longer shocking. The HORNETS found already in this war that your enemy could take some frightening and incredible forms. They had scorched the rotting flesh of the Followers of the Sun, and would now do battle with the minions of the damned if necessary.

Before any shots were fired, one of the Demons stood up and walked towards the HORNETS with his hands splayed in front of him as a showing of peace. He was a strange sight to behold, with skin like cinder and fissures of molten lava running along the lines that would have been his veins. His face was covered by a wide mask, which made for a frightful visage with its impersonality. DX leveled a machine gun at the approaching figure, but Chief Scott motioned for him to drop it.

"Gentlemen, there is no need for fighting!" exclaimed the masked being. "My colleagues and I would like to make a proposal to you in hopes of avoiding bloodshed."

The commandos looked at the masked thing with severe skepticism. The Chief especially was doubtful, but was the first to respond.

"Ok, Demon. I'll hear your offer." The masked creature hopped slightly with pleasure and approached Scott.

"Please" he said, as he put a charred arm around Scott's shoulder. "Step aside with me."

HORNETS again began to ready their weapons as the Demon pulled their commander away but Scott again motioned for them to stand down. He allowed the masked Demon to pull him aside.

"My friend," began the Demon, "we are aware of your recent troubles. We look upon your men and see that they are fatigued. If we fight now, we're sure to win, and we won't be gentle about it. Here is my proposal: quit. Just quit. Before you protest, let me elaborate. If you stop fighting, the armies of the world will think that your success in past wars was a fluke. You'll lure them into a false sense of security! Your men will get rest, and it is quite clear that they need it. You'll be eliminated from this senseless fighting early, and have prime selection of the newest crop of soldiers ready to fight in the future. And you, sir, will be derided and mocked this year, but when you come back in the next war with a vengeance and a rededicated purpose, you'll be hailed as a genius! What do you say?"

Chief Scott looked at the bizarre mask and wondered if the Demon was as dumb as his idea. "Men," he said loudly, "destroy these monstrosities."

The masked demon shrieked in anger and large wings on his shoulder blades unfurled to lift him quickly back to his fellow damned.

The Demon Prince raised himself from rest and stood in the center of his brethren. He looked volcanic, like the masked one, with a cracked and burned musculature ready to do damage to anything in his way. His eyes were smoldering embers of hate. The other demons milled about in anticipation of the order, then the Prince gave it, leaping straight at the HORNETS with reckless abandon.

Upset with themselves for the loss to the Red Death and the General, HORNETS just wanted to beat up on something. They lit up the evening sky with a torrent of gunfire and explosive projectiles. The Demons were terrifying in appearance, but not a difficult opponent in a fight. Their burned flesh was still susceptible to traditional ammunition and blood still ran from their wounds. HORNETS recognized the Demon Prince as the only true threat, and employed a strategy of neutralizing the other Demons to limit the Prince's effectiveness. It was a success.

The Hive was secure, and its residents finally found a night of peaceful sleep after a difficult journey.

Trailing their retreat, the Demon Prince turned his fiery gaze backwards to view the Hive. He was greatly displeased with the loss, and incredibly disappointed with his allies. He had waged unparalleled destruction on the commandos, but was a victim to the ineptitude of the Demons. His sentence in Hell continued.

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