This is my first attempt at fan fiction so be gentle with me. 
Not my best work, for that I apologise but it has certain place in my heart.
The corridors were brightly lit. Two power-armoured guards stood at each end, their eyes roving the grim metal passageways. Motion-sensors protected the ventilation system from intruders using it as a method of entry. Entry to the elevators was controlled with retinal-scanners. The 3rd sub-basement of the complex wasn’t the most well protected place on earth but it probably came close.
Above ground the moon shone down on the barren desert landscape. The assassin checked his equipment. Silenced pistol, two 8” combat knives, fitted body-armour designed for minimal interference of movement, rope, grappling hook, garrotte. All tools of the silent killer at his disposal, Gabriel prepared to descend into the steel bunker and complete his mission.
He scanned the area, noted the two guards standing either side of the entrance, knowing that security cameras covered them and that several more human tanks could be summoned to aid a defence effort and repulse any attack.
Ignoring the main entrance, he crawled across the moonlit rocks, keeping out of sight of both the guards and their electrical backup. The hidden shaft was designed as an emergency exit; it’s existence a tightly held secret. Getting that information had been the most difficult part of the pre-op but everyone has their breaking point and the technician with good ears and not enough good sense to never listen, had his. It was just a matter of finding it.
The lock was electronically coded and, in theory, unbreakable so. No one outside could get EMP grenades so why bother insulating the circuitry, right? The five-second fuse expired and the little black ball emitted a quiet whine and the lock mechanism squealed in submission and the assassin heard a dull thunk as the metal bolts disengaged.
He pulled the hatch open, grunting with the effort, and settled it gently on the rocks. Glancing around, not expecting anyone to be observing him, he checked the area before vanishing down into the darkness.
Paladin Wolf scanned through the reports on his desk. He felt hot in his power-armour and anxious. He hated not being in the field anymore. He knew the youngsters benefited from his knowledge but teaching couldn’t compare with being a warrior of the Slayers.
Still, he thought, whether I like my job or not, I have to do it. Returning to reading the reports he considered his students.
Jonah was promising, still a little heavy on his feet but strong as an ox and good with small arms. His department might not be perfect for him but the young man was responding well to instruction and was working hard to overcome his shortcomings. His determination was, in Paladin Wolf’s opinion, his greatest quality. Jonah was not the best in the class but he was good and would always keep going until he got the job done or he died trying.
Serena was the second best melee fighter he had. She was fast and strong for someone her size. Her balance was excellent and this helped her stay light on her feet and made her a good stalker. Wolf expected her to graduate with honours.
Marcus was a small young man but like Serena, he used that to his advantage and concentrated on close work. He was better in unarmed combat than his female comrade but not quite as fast, which made watching them spar with one another very interesting. Seeing natural quickness versus excellently learned technique. It was always fifty-fifty, depending completely on Serena’s luck if she were on the offensive, managing to catch her opponent with an unexpected move or her ability to dodge Marcus’ attacks. Again, another promising student. It was a good crop this time round, reflected Wolf.
Darion was an oddball. He was given to mood-swings, which vastly effected his performance. Some days he came close to beating Marcus in unarmed lessons, other times he would last only seconds before being taken down like he could not be bothered to fight. Normally Paladin Wolf would not accept such behaviour and remove him from training. But Darion had shown such promise early on that Wolf was determined to help the young man build a successful career in the Slayers as a field man.
Thorn was older, over thirty, and had applied for a transfer to Wolf’s project and had to do the training just like all the new recruits. He was a good soldier. This meant, that he had a lot of old style Slayer to beat out of him before he could fulfil all the aims of the project. Still, his experience meant that he was already the best marksman in the group and was a strongly built man, the result of years lugging power-armour around. Like Jonah, he had a little way to go before he was ready but the two big men were getting there. Paladin Wolf was going to make sure of it.
His devotion to his students resuming status in his mind, he went back to work, reading over the test scores and examining the evaluations from the other instructors. The time went by slowly as he continued to sit in the little room on the 3rd floor basement.
The exit shaft only went down as far as level 2 so the assassin was forced to enter the complex proper. This was when the danger became real. Slinking from storeroom to storeroom until he found the correct uniform, he made his way slowly toward the elevator down to the third level sub-basement. He had memorised the layout and was able to avoid detection, despite one close call with a technician but he was safely ensconced behind the power cells in storeroom 2#13 where the guards were unlikely to find him. Clad in a baggy, hooded PT suit, which concealed his weaponry, the assassin continued his inexorable advance, now able to move among the unobservant soldiers. The risk of a brotherhood too big for everyone to know everyone else, you trusted those how looked like you and knew how to walk the walk and talk the talk.
The elevator presented the next serious difficulty. In another place, he would have attempted to infiltrate the ventilation system, which would have eventually given him access to the elevator shaft.
He waited, jogging on the spot and stretching, as if he were waiting for an exercise partner and was anxious to begin his workout. His obvious fitness helped support this image. Patience eventually provided the mark he needed. A power-armoured soldier swaggered toward the lift entrance.
“Going down?” called the assassin, beginning to jog casually toward the huge man. The walking tank nodded, his handsome face visible with the suit’s helmet removed.
“What you need on the third floor?” he managed to sound friendly while obviously suspicious of why the young jogging man needed to be down on the officer’s quarters.
“I’m supposed to be giving Paladin Carson a fitness session.” The assassin grinned. The big man smiled back,
“Carson’s been behind a desk a long time now. He probably hasn’t seen the wastes for months.” He laughed, “Didn’t expect he’d order out for a fitness instructor.” He looked the assassin up and down, “But you’re in better shape than me, so I guess you’re good at what you do.” A mean smile appeared on his face, “And I expect ol’ Carson didn’t want it getting around that he’s getting a gut. It’s easy to hide one in big suit of power-armour.” He chuckled. “Come on, let’s get this show on the road.”
He leaned forward and let the retinal scanner read is eyes and the doors opened. He strode in and the assassin, knowing protocol, leaned forward as well but blinked as the scanner lit up. Ducking inside the door before the elevator could leave, the assassin joined his new friend.
“Could try to keep it quiet, you know. I don’t want the Paladin to know I let it out that he needs to lose a few pounds.” Implored the grinning assassin. The big guy considered this for a moment before replying,
“I’ll try but I can’t promise anything. You know how easy it is to blab to your comrades.”
The assassin smiled at this.
“Thanks, I appreciate it. By the way, what’s your name? I might be around for a while.”
“Carson’s got to lose that much weight-”
“What, I never said-” the assassin blanched, playing his part perfectly.
“Don’t sweat it. I’m John. Just plain old John.” He chuckled slightly, “Clean sweep on the world. What little’ left of humanity gets a fresh start and my parents name my John. What are you gonna do, eh” the assassin shrugged at John’s rhetorical question, then using the arm movement to conceal his action, he swung his hand up into John’s neck, incapacitating the hulking warrior. There was a loud metal clang as he fell to the ground. The assassin began to quickly strip the man of his armour and don it himself.
The transfer complete, dressed now in the strength enhancing motor-servo powered suit the assassin had no trouble knocking the maintenance hatch open and forcing John’s unconscious body up onto the roof of the elevator.
The elevator doors opened and the assassin walked out into the corridor, a distracted, anxious look on his face.
“Wolf? I have to see Paladin Wolf.” He turned and grabbed one of the two guards outside the lift doors. “It’s one of his trainees, he’s in trouble, I have to get Paladin Wolf. Which door is his quarters?” his desperate blue eyes convinced the guard of th young man’s honesty.
Poor recruit, he thought, first time down here and he’s bringing news of trouble with him. Wolf isn’t going to be happy. The guard pointed down at the door halfway along the hall.
“Number 7, kid.” He was pleased by the gratitude he saw in the young eyes. “Don’t worry about it lad. As long as you didn’t do it, Wolf won’t be angry at you. Firm but fair. The way of the Order.” He smiled inside his helmet, even though the younth couldn’t see it.
The assassin hurried down the corridor until he reached number 7 and knocked on the door, pressing the switch and entering as he did so.
Paladin Wolf, surprised at being disturbed, looked up into familiar, cold blue eyes.
“Bang you’re dead.” said the assassin, holding his silenced weapon aimed squarely at his instructor’s face.
Paladin Wolf’s laughter rumbled forth from his massive frame.
“I’ll be damned.” His older, grey-tinged blue eyes, twinkled with pride. “Gabriel.” He whispered, knowing now that he wasn’t at all surprised. He had been certain that of all the students, the tall young man standing before him would have passed he final test.
Paladin Wolf rose from his seat and strode across to his star pupil. Gripping him by the shoulder, the Paladin addressed his boy, now grown to a man, “Son, you are now the first official Nightblade to serve in the Slayers.”
Nightblade Gabriel Wolf grinned at his father,
“We might just have established ourselves a little dynasty, Sir.”
Not my best work, for that I apologise but it has certain place in my heart.
The corridors were brightly lit. Two power-armoured guards stood at each end, their eyes roving the grim metal passageways. Motion-sensors protected the ventilation system from intruders using it as a method of entry. Entry to the elevators was controlled with retinal-scanners. The 3rd sub-basement of the complex wasn’t the most well protected place on earth but it probably came close.
Above ground the moon shone down on the barren desert landscape. The assassin checked his equipment. Silenced pistol, two 8” combat knives, fitted body-armour designed for minimal interference of movement, rope, grappling hook, garrotte. All tools of the silent killer at his disposal, Gabriel prepared to descend into the steel bunker and complete his mission.
He scanned the area, noted the two guards standing either side of the entrance, knowing that security cameras covered them and that several more human tanks could be summoned to aid a defence effort and repulse any attack.
Ignoring the main entrance, he crawled across the moonlit rocks, keeping out of sight of both the guards and their electrical backup. The hidden shaft was designed as an emergency exit; it’s existence a tightly held secret. Getting that information had been the most difficult part of the pre-op but everyone has their breaking point and the technician with good ears and not enough good sense to never listen, had his. It was just a matter of finding it.
The lock was electronically coded and, in theory, unbreakable so. No one outside could get EMP grenades so why bother insulating the circuitry, right? The five-second fuse expired and the little black ball emitted a quiet whine and the lock mechanism squealed in submission and the assassin heard a dull thunk as the metal bolts disengaged.
He pulled the hatch open, grunting with the effort, and settled it gently on the rocks. Glancing around, not expecting anyone to be observing him, he checked the area before vanishing down into the darkness.
Paladin Wolf scanned through the reports on his desk. He felt hot in his power-armour and anxious. He hated not being in the field anymore. He knew the youngsters benefited from his knowledge but teaching couldn’t compare with being a warrior of the Slayers.
Still, he thought, whether I like my job or not, I have to do it. Returning to reading the reports he considered his students.
Jonah was promising, still a little heavy on his feet but strong as an ox and good with small arms. His department might not be perfect for him but the young man was responding well to instruction and was working hard to overcome his shortcomings. His determination was, in Paladin Wolf’s opinion, his greatest quality. Jonah was not the best in the class but he was good and would always keep going until he got the job done or he died trying.
Serena was the second best melee fighter he had. She was fast and strong for someone her size. Her balance was excellent and this helped her stay light on her feet and made her a good stalker. Wolf expected her to graduate with honours.
Marcus was a small young man but like Serena, he used that to his advantage and concentrated on close work. He was better in unarmed combat than his female comrade but not quite as fast, which made watching them spar with one another very interesting. Seeing natural quickness versus excellently learned technique. It was always fifty-fifty, depending completely on Serena’s luck if she were on the offensive, managing to catch her opponent with an unexpected move or her ability to dodge Marcus’ attacks. Again, another promising student. It was a good crop this time round, reflected Wolf.
Darion was an oddball. He was given to mood-swings, which vastly effected his performance. Some days he came close to beating Marcus in unarmed lessons, other times he would last only seconds before being taken down like he could not be bothered to fight. Normally Paladin Wolf would not accept such behaviour and remove him from training. But Darion had shown such promise early on that Wolf was determined to help the young man build a successful career in the Slayers as a field man.
Thorn was older, over thirty, and had applied for a transfer to Wolf’s project and had to do the training just like all the new recruits. He was a good soldier. This meant, that he had a lot of old style Slayer to beat out of him before he could fulfil all the aims of the project. Still, his experience meant that he was already the best marksman in the group and was a strongly built man, the result of years lugging power-armour around. Like Jonah, he had a little way to go before he was ready but the two big men were getting there. Paladin Wolf was going to make sure of it.
His devotion to his students resuming status in his mind, he went back to work, reading over the test scores and examining the evaluations from the other instructors. The time went by slowly as he continued to sit in the little room on the 3rd floor basement.
The exit shaft only went down as far as level 2 so the assassin was forced to enter the complex proper. This was when the danger became real. Slinking from storeroom to storeroom until he found the correct uniform, he made his way slowly toward the elevator down to the third level sub-basement. He had memorised the layout and was able to avoid detection, despite one close call with a technician but he was safely ensconced behind the power cells in storeroom 2#13 where the guards were unlikely to find him. Clad in a baggy, hooded PT suit, which concealed his weaponry, the assassin continued his inexorable advance, now able to move among the unobservant soldiers. The risk of a brotherhood too big for everyone to know everyone else, you trusted those how looked like you and knew how to walk the walk and talk the talk.
The elevator presented the next serious difficulty. In another place, he would have attempted to infiltrate the ventilation system, which would have eventually given him access to the elevator shaft.
He waited, jogging on the spot and stretching, as if he were waiting for an exercise partner and was anxious to begin his workout. His obvious fitness helped support this image. Patience eventually provided the mark he needed. A power-armoured soldier swaggered toward the lift entrance.
“Going down?” called the assassin, beginning to jog casually toward the huge man. The walking tank nodded, his handsome face visible with the suit’s helmet removed.
“What you need on the third floor?” he managed to sound friendly while obviously suspicious of why the young jogging man needed to be down on the officer’s quarters.
“I’m supposed to be giving Paladin Carson a fitness session.” The assassin grinned. The big man smiled back,
“Carson’s been behind a desk a long time now. He probably hasn’t seen the wastes for months.” He laughed, “Didn’t expect he’d order out for a fitness instructor.” He looked the assassin up and down, “But you’re in better shape than me, so I guess you’re good at what you do.” A mean smile appeared on his face, “And I expect ol’ Carson didn’t want it getting around that he’s getting a gut. It’s easy to hide one in big suit of power-armour.” He chuckled. “Come on, let’s get this show on the road.”
He leaned forward and let the retinal scanner read is eyes and the doors opened. He strode in and the assassin, knowing protocol, leaned forward as well but blinked as the scanner lit up. Ducking inside the door before the elevator could leave, the assassin joined his new friend.
“Could try to keep it quiet, you know. I don’t want the Paladin to know I let it out that he needs to lose a few pounds.” Implored the grinning assassin. The big guy considered this for a moment before replying,
“I’ll try but I can’t promise anything. You know how easy it is to blab to your comrades.”
The assassin smiled at this.
“Thanks, I appreciate it. By the way, what’s your name? I might be around for a while.”
“Carson’s got to lose that much weight-”
“What, I never said-” the assassin blanched, playing his part perfectly.
“Don’t sweat it. I’m John. Just plain old John.” He chuckled slightly, “Clean sweep on the world. What little’ left of humanity gets a fresh start and my parents name my John. What are you gonna do, eh” the assassin shrugged at John’s rhetorical question, then using the arm movement to conceal his action, he swung his hand up into John’s neck, incapacitating the hulking warrior. There was a loud metal clang as he fell to the ground. The assassin began to quickly strip the man of his armour and don it himself.
The transfer complete, dressed now in the strength enhancing motor-servo powered suit the assassin had no trouble knocking the maintenance hatch open and forcing John’s unconscious body up onto the roof of the elevator.
The elevator doors opened and the assassin walked out into the corridor, a distracted, anxious look on his face.
“Wolf? I have to see Paladin Wolf.” He turned and grabbed one of the two guards outside the lift doors. “It’s one of his trainees, he’s in trouble, I have to get Paladin Wolf. Which door is his quarters?” his desperate blue eyes convinced the guard of th young man’s honesty.
Poor recruit, he thought, first time down here and he’s bringing news of trouble with him. Wolf isn’t going to be happy. The guard pointed down at the door halfway along the hall.
“Number 7, kid.” He was pleased by the gratitude he saw in the young eyes. “Don’t worry about it lad. As long as you didn’t do it, Wolf won’t be angry at you. Firm but fair. The way of the Order.” He smiled inside his helmet, even though the younth couldn’t see it.
The assassin hurried down the corridor until he reached number 7 and knocked on the door, pressing the switch and entering as he did so.
Paladin Wolf, surprised at being disturbed, looked up into familiar, cold blue eyes.
“Bang you’re dead.” said the assassin, holding his silenced weapon aimed squarely at his instructor’s face.
Paladin Wolf’s laughter rumbled forth from his massive frame.
“I’ll be damned.” His older, grey-tinged blue eyes, twinkled with pride. “Gabriel.” He whispered, knowing now that he wasn’t at all surprised. He had been certain that of all the students, the tall young man standing before him would have passed he final test.
Paladin Wolf rose from his seat and strode across to his star pupil. Gripping him by the shoulder, the Paladin addressed his boy, now grown to a man, “Son, you are now the first official Nightblade to serve in the Slayers.”
Nightblade Gabriel Wolf grinned at his father,
“We might just have established ourselves a little dynasty, Sir.”
