Hunting Trogs In a World Where The Ground Is Lava

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Featuring: Lockley Aimes

Lockley had seen the Factory message up pop in the Network. After two failed excavations, she was desperate for supplies. Her year-long expedition was in jeopardy of ending early, and there was no way she was going back to the University in defeat.

She ran through every detail in her head and calculated everything in her computer again. She felt nervous but there weren't any clear warnings from her power. She flew another loop over the trog-infested area, getting just close enough, and high enough to stay undetected. She nodded to herself and pushed Flywings Citypop side B into the cassette player. It was time to set her plan in motion.

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Lockley's heart pounded against her chest like a drum, drowning out the deafening roar of the Rusthawk's engines. Three lethal missiles locked onto her plane, each one threatening to turn her fragile aircraft into a fiery inferno. The odds were stacked against her; one missile was dangerous enough, but three? She gritted her teeth, her knuckles turning white as she tightened her grip on the controls. Did bandits have so much ammo that they'd waste three on her little plane?

Two days ago, she had accidentally encountered their missile while flying under the radar. Today, she had deliberately provoked the bandits, flying dangerously close to their formidable base, goading them into launching their missiles in retaliation. Her heads-up display blinked red with an urgency that matched the rapid thumping of her heart. The data set of the missiles appeared on her computer screen. The Copperwinders 3b52 missiles would relentlessly pursue her for up to twenty minutes, or until they found something to hit. And she knew just where to take them.

With calculated maneuvering, Lockley accelerated forward, staying within 30 meters of the missiles' path to ensure they honed in on her position. Her palms felt sweaty as she sped towards the swamp.

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The Rusthawk flew through the starless night sky over the swamp. Her computer indicated that she was just above her target. Without hesitating, she plunged towards the murky ground, aiming straight for the nest of monstrous trogs. At the last possible moment, she expertly adjusted her flight path, narrowly avoiding a disastrous collision. The Rusthawk's thrusters roared The copperwinder missiles following her landed on the mud-covered hill they were using as a base. Explosions erupted like thunder, ripping through the stillness of the night, followed by the gut-wrenching screams of the trogs. An inferno spread around her. The stench of death filled the air. Lockley steeled herself.

She turned and landed her plane amidst the chaos. Her drone, Lucky-8, deployed flares into the sky to distract the remaining trogs. Lucky-3, her other trusty drone, played booming recordings of soldiers shouting orders and yelling through the speakers of the Rusthawk, further adding to the chaos.

Leaping off her aircraft, Lockley sprinted towards the raging inferno and the lifeless trogs strewn across the swamp.

60 seconds!

The ground is lava! She can't stay here long. Her legs wobbled underneath her. How long had it been since she last touched the ground? Four days. Maybe five. She had done exercises to prevent muscle atrophy, but she still felt sick.

50 seconds!

Lockley stopped in front of the dead trogs, her primary objective was to collect their heads for trading. The other trogs were in a state of panic which hid her from notice.

"Heads? Who the hell demands heads as proof?" she muttered under her breath in frustration. She grimaced, her fireman's axe cleaving through the grotesque, burnt flesh of the trog, severing one of the heads in three swings.

40 seconds!

She decapited a second trog. The trogs, driven to madness by the loss of their nest, closed in around her, their frenzied inhuman grunts echoed through the night. A shiver of unease crept down her spine as she regretted choosing to attack at night. Shadows danced menacingly around her, amplified by the flames that now rose above her head.

30 seconds!

Lucky-8 collected the two heads and carried them back to the plane. The sound of gunfire almost gave her a panic attack as she ducked behind cover, bullets flew over her head. She heard heavy wheezing behind her and found a dying trog on the ground. It was still breathing. Half of its body was covered in burns. It looked at her with pitiful eyes. Was it pleading?

"I'm sorry about this! I really need fuel!" She lifted her axe and swung.

20 seconds!

The trogs began to close in around her position. They were now surrounding the Rusthawk and openly firing at her. She ran back to the Rusthawk as fast as she could. Her last flare exploded in the air above her.

10 seconds!

Her pistol's bullet killed a trog in front of her. No time to collect its head. She thew the last trog head in and hurled herself back into her plane.

Time to go!

Lockley felt the rush of success as her plane ascended over the swamp, leaving the massing trogs behind. She grinned widely and rested her hands on the familiar controls.

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"Lockley - 1, Ground - 0! Wooo! Good job team!"

Lucky-3 and Lucky-8 beeped behind her excitedly.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?"

She hummed as she pondered which victory cassette to play. Her fingers poked through her collection of tapes, when all of a sudden a chilling weight coiled around her neck. Panic coursed through her, replacing her joy with paralyzing terror. She cursed in her head. She had made a grave mistake and ignored her precognitive abilities in her excitement. There was a trog in her cockpit. Lockley fought desperately for breath, her fingers scrambling for anything that could aid her. It snarled and spoke something in its gibberish language. It was laughing and taunting her.

Her instincts kicked in, and she activated the recline button on her pilot seat, causing her body to slide down, and freeing herself from the trog's tightening grip. With monstrous speed, it lunged towards her, hunger gleaming in its eyes. Lockley twisted and kicked, but the trog's vice-like grip clamped onto her leg, overpowering her with its strength. The sickening sound of her ankle snapping echoed in her ears. She screamed in pain.

The creature loomed over her, claws tearing through her flesh as she blocked its assault with both arms in front of her face. The pain seared her. "Damn it! Damn it!" she cursed through gritted teeth, and despaired. She heard beeping behind her. Lucky-8 and Lucky-3 leaped at the trog, creating a diversion. Taking advantage of the distraction, she threw herself at the Rusthawk's controls and sent the plane flying straight up, using the momentum to send the trog slamming into the back of the cockpit.

"Lock mode!" she screamed, commanding her drones to anchor themselves to the plane's floor.

Bloodied and battered, Lockley flipped the plane upside-down mid-air, unlatching the back screen of the cockpit. The trog shrieked as it was sucked out and plummeted out of the aircraft, accompanied by her bed and the snacks she had saved for later.

---

Sitting motionless, she continued to fly on autopilot, a mixture of shock and disbelief coursing through her veins. The scenes of her near-death experience replayed in her mind like a relentless nightmare. Tears welled up in her eyes, blending with the traces of blood on her aviator suit.

I hate the ground so much.

The meticulous plans she had crafted during her time at the University never included her getting injured. The thought never even crossed her mind. Now her leg was broken and she had cuts and blood all over her. Her own blood. The overconfidence that she used in place of her lack of experience began to crumble. She was cold, alone, and her bed was gone.

There was no victory music as she made her way toward the Factory to claim her reward for the three trog heads she had risked so much to obtain.

She would barter for fuel. Maybe she could show them Lucky-3's video feed and prove that she killed more than three? She had never been to the Factory. The map of the factory appeared on her computer screen as she got close. There were blue and green dots that indicated people lived near there. Lucky blissful people who didn't even realize that they lived on lava. Maybe one day, when her expedition was over. She could be one of them.