Operation:Pacifica "Hero of the Day"
by ST

"Blackened roar, massive roar fills the crumbling sky Shattered goal
  fills his soul with a ruthless cry Stranger now are his eyes to this mystery
  He hears the silence so loud"
 --Metallica, "For Whom the Bell Tolls"

"I fashion will and desire Always I and I survive Mercurial mind the
  fire Ferrirovous direction and drive"
 --Soundgarden, "Never the Machine Forever"

 ST walked into his tent a tired man.  He threw off his uniform and
  collapsed on the cot, sighing.  After finally locating the Jihad
  headquarters and being debriefed on all that he had seen and done since
  landing on the island, he was in no mood to do anything that involved any
  kind of physical or mental strength.  [At least,] he pondered, [I found out
  what was behind those dreams of mine.]  He looked at his newly acquired
  sword, known as Schlee.  It was leaning up against a chair, strapped to his
  weapons belt.  "Why do I have this bad feeling about you?" he said suddenly
  to the uncaring weapon.  "You're not what you seem, are you?  Hmm?  Answer
  me, dammit, answer me!" he demanded.  There was no response.  ST grunted.
  "I'd better get some sleep, I'm getting a little short-tempered for my own
  good." He got up, killed the light, and hit the bunk again.  In a minute he
  was asleep.

 He awoke once again in the land of eternal ice and snow that seemed
  to him to be his sword's domain.  He got up, looking around and blinking.
  His sword lay next to him, and it actually looked a little offended.

 [Thou didst have to shout,] chided Schlee.

 "Oh, you again," retorted ST with a touch of contempt.  "Is there
  any reason we have to visit the Arctic every time you want to chat with me?"

 [Tis not the Arctic, but a place inside thy own mind.  The only
  place where I canst speak to thee, and then only in thy dreams.]

 ST nodded dubiously.  "That explains a lot of things.  So, what'd
  you knock off Mr. Sandman for?" he asked.

 [b'harnii is near, Sir Timothy, and now is thy chance to strike.]

 ST tensed instantly at the mention of It of the One Tooth.

 "Where?!  WHERE!!?" he demanded.

 [It is now in the city that doth lie on this island.  Deadlock the
  Feral doth persue the Beast most aptly, and indeed, he hath already struck
  great fear into the heart of the demon.  The death of b'harnii at his hands
  is almost inevitable.]

 "Not if I can help it," ST muttered darkly.  "That fucker killed my
  family and I'll be damned if someone else gets him.  Even if it is Deadlock
  the Feral."  He seized Schlee in his hands.  "Let us go!" he cried in a
  voice like thunder as he felt Schlee eagerly begin to gather its power.  He
  then collapsed.

 In an instant, he was back on Pacifica.  He dressed and armed
  faster than he ever had in his short life, fully alert and poised.  He poked
  his head out of his tent, looking for anyone stirring.  He saw no one and
  began creeping out of camp.  He was almost out and home free until he was
  stopped by a sentry.  He grounded his teeth together as the solider ran
  towards him.

 "Do you have permission to leave, Lieutenant?" he shouted.

 "Sure I do," ST forced a smile.  "It's called...FREEZE FOR SEVEN
  MINUTES!"

 "What the?!" asked the bewildered and hapless troop as ST touched
  his shoulder with Schlee, freezing him in his tracks.

 "Beats conking him on the noggin," ST shrugged as he ran out of the
  camp and into the jungle.

Music - "The Final Countdown" Europe

 After an uneventful sprint through the jungle, ST stood at the
  gates of the city.  Buildings burned with a wrathful fury as ST stealthily
  entered.  Sponges ran in terror from some unknown threat as he made his way
  through the streets, and he had no trouble avoiding them.  His hand was
  tensed around Schlee as he moved, his face contorted into a mask of hatred
  as he searched the metropolis, his senses working at maximum capability.  He
  suddenly heard a faint "NYAR!" as he sat crouched in a burned-out building.
  [That was fairly close,] he thought.  [The Beast is near.  I can almost
  smell his evil.]   He proceeded carefully across the intersection, but
  stopped as he heard rapidly approaching steps.  He drew his sword and
  waited, his heart beginning to pound.  After what seemed like an eternity,
  he saw a dark form saunter its way towards him.  It was tall and obese, and
  it frequently glanced behind itself as if in fear.  As it walked into the
  light, ST sprang from his position, the pent up rage of months beginning to
  surface.

 "YOU!!!!" he shouted in a voice that could wake the dead.

 b'harnii screamed in surprise as ST slowly made his way towards
  him, sword held professionally.  The Beast of Purple regained his composure
  as he saw it wasn't Deadlock who had accosted him.

 "I don't believe I know you, but I bet that you're one of those
  meany Jihaddi who try to stop me from spreading my luv to everyone," said
  the Wyrm in his dopey voice.  "You should.."

 "Cut the lip, asshole!" ST growled.  "I am Sir Timothy of the House
  of Geier, you virtueless perverted powerhungry world-destroying life-ruining
  mindless conforming advocating MURDERER! YOU killed my family.  Now you will
  burn in the deepest pit of hell for all eternity!!!" he raged.

 b'harnii gave no sign of even acknowledging ST's words.  "I've
  killed countless beings, what do I care?  I do think those words of yours
  are just a bit naughty.  I should get the super-de-duper soap and wash that
  dirty mouth of yours right out!  Wouldn't that be stuuuupendous?  I'll do
  it..right after I kill you!"  b'harnii drew his blade and grinned a chilling
  smile.  ST only flipped him the bird and readied Schlee.

 ST attacked first with an overhead stroke, easily parried by
  b'harnii, who attempted a counter to the chest.  ST blocked it and
  retaliated with a rapid fire series of blows to b'harnii's shoulders.  Barf-
  ney whimpered as his shoulders began to flow with bright nagenta.  After the
  exchange of threats, ST had kept his anger and technique under control, but
  the sight of his enemy's blood excited him and drove him over the edge of
  sanity.  He hammered away with the rage that had been pent up inside him for
  months, b'harnii retreating as he could only deflect the massive blows of
  ST.  As his back hit a wall, and b'harnii realized that he was almost out of
  options, ST swept his feet out from under him with his sword, and b'harnii
  was suddenly prostrate on the ground.   Before he could move, Schlee came
  bearing down on his sword hand's wrist.  He reacted too late, however, and
  ST's sword neatly severed his hand, sending his sword to the ground with a
  clatter.   Before he could reach for the sword with his other hand, that too
  suddenly disappeared in a blur of crystal.  b'harnii could only crawl
  backwards, his stumps spewing nagenta blood as ST advanced on him with
  murder in his eyes.  b'harnii suddenly looked up, and managed a weak laugh.

 "Go ahead, you foolish Jihaddi, go ahead and kill me.  Attack me
  with all of your hatred, you'll never slay me forever!  I'll just keep
  coming back and coming back and..."

 Later in his life, ST regretted not having listened to what the
  Hell Wyrm was saying.  Totally consumed by rage, he only uttered the reply,
  "I'll slay thee..REGARDLESS!!!"

Music - Metallica "Hero of the Day" _Load_ (heavy part)

 With that, ST swung Schlee and severed b'harnii's arms completely.
  As the Nagenta Nuisance screamed in agony, he brought his dreadful sword
  down again and cut off both its legs.  He was now almost up to his ankles in
  blood, but he didn't care.  He only laughed a deep and sinister laugh as
  b'harnii started wishing only for the end.  ST then drew a dagger and slowly
  began to gouge his eyes out, bringing new levels of pain and torment to the
  beast.  "Now thou art like Oedipus of Thebes, but he was a saint compared to
  thee," ST snarled.  As the sightless eyes of b'harnii plopped down onto the
  pavement, he finally keeled over from sheer loss of blood and pain.  Before
  the dismembered body hit the ground, ST swung Schlee with all his might,
  sending b'harnii's head flying into the darkness.  ST knelt in the river of
  the demon's blood, breathing heavily.  "Father!  Uncle!  I hath
  finally...avenged thee!" he cried out finally.  He heard a "NYAR!" close by,
  but did not care.  He had slain b'harnii of Lyra, fulfilling his primary
  purpose in life.  "What do I do now?" he murmured.  He suddenly felt a
  presence and turned his head.   The Grand Admiral of the TRES Corps stepped
  out of the shadows, his gaze locked on the blood-stained figure of ST,  As
  CyberPyro took in the dismembered corpse of b'harnii and his bloodstained
  officer, he leveled a look at ST that would have withered the strongest
  tree.  ST trembled slightly as he met his gaze.  They stared at each other
  for a moment, then CP walked away without a word.

 ST got up, still trembling.  He didn't stop until he was back at
  the headquarters.  He staggered into his tent and was asleep before he hit
  his cot.

[place: Charn'El's personal chambers]

 The Dread Lord of everything Lyra felt a strange twinge as the
  Master of the Sponge Minions departed this Earth.  He did not even wonder
  what news would be brought when his door was knocked.

 "Enter," he rumbled.

 "Master," said a 4th level Lyran after bowing, "b'harnii has been
  slain."

 "Yes, I know.  But by whom?" questioned Charn'El.

 "Sir Timothy of the House of Geier."

 Charn'El frowned.  "It appears we have a new enemy to Lyra.  No
  matter, however.  His hollow revenge will only bring that much more pain
  onto him," the King of the Lyrans muttered.  "You have my permission to
  withdraw," he commanded.

 "Yes, Master," said the Lyran mage before leaving.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

 The news of b'harnii's death spread like a shockwave throughout the
  camps of his sponge minions.  Within minutes there was mass grieving and
  despair amongst the troops.  With b'harnii leading the way, they had felt
  that they were invinceable.  Now, the idea that they too could be killed
  began to seep its way into their whatever substituted for their minds.
  Morale was low as night fell, but each sponge tightly clung to the fact that
  there was still a chance that they could avenge their master's death, kill
  the newest threat and be hailed as a hero, and the name of the new threat
  was cursed savageably upon that night.

 Sir Timothy was no longer unknown.


TBC in "From Within"
-- ST