No one has seen more combat than ‘Elite Force’ SAW. Will his skills be enough to save his buddies deep within the Halcyon Well? Read the exciting conclusion to the ‘Elite Force’ trilogy!
CHECK HIM OUT IN GAME:
MODEL CHANGES
- Environmentally sealed ballistic armor and mask
- Rotary coilgun accelerator
- Brand new tomahawk
ALTERNATE FATE LORE
Part I: The Voices
Part II: Disarm!
Pucker Factor 10
While the rest of the tech alliance peered at their flashing monitors and beeping accessories, SAW sidestepped, stomped and stretched trying to scratch an itch on his bum. The rope he’d attached to the scout skittered and swayed around the mouth of the Halcyon Well.
“Do you have a malfunction?” The commander’s visor opened to reveal his stern scowl.
“New armor’s working as intended, sir.” He punched his fist into the overlapping metal of his back armor to no avail; the itch only burned worse.
“Watch the rope.” The commander’s visor locked back down.
“Yeah, alright.” SAW cranked the winch according to the rope signals. By the time the rope pulled twice, the itch had traveled up his spine. “All’s well,” he said. “Guess that’s your cue.” While the others watched the commander descend into the well, SAW wedged the handle of his tomahawk between his backplate and hip, trying to scratch, the rope forgotten as it yanked and yanked.
“Hey, merc,” called one of the techies, “isn’t that one of the signals?”
“I’ll tell you when there’s a …” began SAW, but then the ground shook. The techies stumbled and fell. Fog blasted high out of the well. With the tomahawk sticking out at an awkward angle from his hip, SAW lunged at the winch and cranked hard and fast.
The scorched hook emerged from the well without the scout attached.
“Well,” said SAW, hooking the rope to his own waist and grabbing his coilgun, “I’m going to go shoot at whatever they’re shooting at.”
It took three techies working the winch to lower him and his artillery into the blind foggy well. He descended fast, breaking through the fog and getting only a glimpse of the crystal cave before falling straight into the gummy, toothless jaw of the Churn worms’ giant roaring mother.
The worm gulped, and everything went dark.
His coilgun was stuck, wedged tight between the undulating muscles of the beast’s throat. The itch on his bum came back with a vengeance.
“Commander!” he screamed into his radio. “What’s your position!” He punched the beast’s inner flesh as it lunged and spat. “Commander, I need to lay down some fire and if you don’t clear out, you could catch it. Do you copy?”
Only static answered.
“Alright,” he grumbled, yanking the tomahawk free of his hip. He hacked at the squishy fleshy folds, worm blood spattering, holding his position with all his strength as the beast twisted and struggled, until crystal blue light leaked through. He put his head through the hole just in time to almost get it cut off by the chakram flying past.
“Clear out!” he yelled, and pulled back inside, sliding the muzzle of the coilgun through the hole and aiming upward.
The explosive shells burst from the rotary coilgun accelerator. He braced himself against the beast’s contracting muscle, shooting blind, one after another rocking the screaming worm, until he was out of shells.
The beast whined, yawned, and fell with a sickening thump.
He hacked his way out of the dead animal and caught his breath, dripping with goo. He kicked at the worm’s blown-open head, then surveyed the baby worms laying in coiled, bloody death on the sand. He cracked his neck.
The scout and the commander stared at him as he tucked the tomahawk back in place. “Bloody hell! Pucker factor of ten, this,” he said.
“Well done, mercenary,” said the commander.
“Indeed,” said the scout. “That was astounding.”
“Yeah, sure.” SAW picked up a Shatterglass from the sand and tossed it to Idris. “Grab up what you came for and let’s move out. I have an itch on my bum.”
Read SAW’s canon lore:
WALLPAPERS
