ARC I: MONK
It was several years since the galaxy had known peace. When one thought about it, Karl Marx and his dialectical ideas made him a prophet. Yeah, a goddamn prophet- humanity lived under one repetitive, destructive, rapacious cycle. When MONK thought about it, it was disgusting, really. People had one thing, people wanted another, then there was some conflict, some war that covered a whole planet and usually got other planets involved, and then there was some mix of both sides' demands that really satisfied no one. Well, that's not exactly how Marx put it, MONK just 'embellished' it was all.
Our hero, MONK. His name stands for Mercenary Operative for Neutralization and Killing.
3026 BCE. Everybody stopped using AD within the Conglomerate, since religion had been banned on the planet. Imagine this irony! The planet was under the iron-fisted grip of some intergalactical corporation called the Conglomerate who claimed that religion simply served as a way for people to kill each other over whose imaginary friend was better. Well, that's probably not how the Conglomerate put it, MONK just 'embellished' it was all.
The CEO of the Conglomerate, Helmer Quincy
Oh yeah, the irony. You know, the Conglomerate probably killed off more people forcing the original colonists of the planet off the land, then abusing the planet's resources with a vengeance, industrializing it into a veritable robotic paradise for... A tiny bit of human habitation. What, five, or six people? Well, that's probably not how the construction companies put it (they called it terraforming), MONK just 'embellished' it was all.
The current status of another planet the Conglomerate had 'terraformed', Mars. This is probably how Alpha Centauri is going to end up, as well, unfortunately.
Not that it mattered to MONK. He was a bit neutral in all of this, being just another mercenary for the Conglomerate. Although he was hired by the Conglomerate and going to end up fighting against their biggest enemy, the Convention, that was what he felt. Galactic concerns were really not the kind of thing he cared about, though that didn't mean he couldn't make observations on it like those half-assed philosophers from a thousand years ago.
In 2448, the Earth had finally united into one large supernation. But the Earth had one big problem, something that statisticians, scientists, physicians, and doomsayers had been predicting ever since the twentieth century- overpopulation. So plans to colonize the rest of the galaxy seemed to be the logical step to solve this problem. People went on other planets, terraforming them in the image of their original planet. A single company had financed all such expeditions, known as the Conglomerate. In the name of charity, they had financed Earth's attempts to move off into other places not of their world.
But the Conglomerate eventually had other plans. In 2602, there had been many breakthroughs, not the least of which was lightspeed travel to other galaxies... Including the one closest to the Milky Way, Andromeda. After many of the Andromeda planets had been properly terraformed and colonized, the head chairman of the Conglomerate and the owner of the most controlling stock of the Conglomerate, Quincy, decided that his company and all of its' holdings would 'declare independence' on the basis that he no longer wanted ‘his people’ to get dragged up in the history of ‘religious wars’ and ‘mob violence’ that plagued Earth, intending to create his own idealistic society whose base was his immense fortune.
This came as a bit of a shock to Earth Nation, and it wasn't until Conglomerate-controlled troops actually opened fire on Earth troops that the Conglomerate was taken seriously. The name change from Earth to the Convention came later after other countries, groups, and organizations came under scrutiny, and some were kicked out, some were wiped out, on the basis of whether or not they were ‘atheistic’ like the Conglomerate were. How the mighty go backwards… Backpedaling into narrowminded fundamentalism. Such actions were highly supported and propagandized by a radical and evangelical Convention official named Mccarthin, whose name sounded suspiciously like a certain witch-hunting senator of a North American country in a previous era. With such irresponsible fingerpointing, cracks in the leadership of the Convention were visible. Supposing that the Conglomerate were defeated, it was likely that the Conventions' members would then fight against each other.
MONK's mission was simple- make a landing on the Convention's home planet Earth, and extract the scientists from the Conglomerate's secret lab on Eurasia. Funny that the secret lab was on Eurasia, easily the most heavily defended area on Earth. There were enough gun emplacements on, what did they call that place? France? To take down several fleets of S-Class ships.
But then again, challenges like this were all MONK lived for. It helped him liven up to the rather bleak outlook he had on his surroundings. Hell, he might even die this time. That'd be something to see... But that was doubtful- because MONK was the best there was.
December 31st, 3026 B.C.E.
Grant: Well, this is going to be interesting.
MONK looks up from his usual gun maintenance.
MONK: ... What?
Grant: The first HALO jump from a ship going through re-entry in centuries, of course. And in enemy territory like this?
Jamin Grant turned away from MONK and walked over to the head of the bridge, which was protected by a powerful clear material that was not altogether different from glass. It was his ship, the A.C.C.G. Mercant, along with about six dozen other ships that was cutting through Earth's atmosphere, about to make a landing on the Convention member country of France. But Grant knew that he was just a diversion. It was MONK's job to extract the Conglomerate lab's faculty. But MONK didn't know about what the lab had been working on, and just as well. The Conglomerate wasn't after these damn scientists, such people were expendable, and usually had only a single use. They fulfilled that use, and were carrying the results, and this is what Helmer was truly after. MONK was completely ignorant of this...
Not that Grant could believe someone as apathetic as MONK could give half a damn. Though Grant found something rather ominous about MONK, and that gas mask he always wore. MONK rasped his reply.
MONK: Wonderful, a historical achievement award. I didn't think the Conglomerate gave such things, so when do I get my medal?
Grant rolls his eyes.
Grant: You're such an excitable chap.
MONK: Whatever. So, why does the Conglomerate want to use almost a fifth of its functioning space fleet just to save a group of scientists?
Uh-oh, he's getting curious. He may be the best mercenary on the market, and his status is legendary, but that's all the more reason to get rid of him.
Grant: That's none of your concern.
MONK: Hey, I get that answer all the time. I'm just saying, it seems pretty stupid to go through all of this. They're replaceable, aren't they?
Ensign: Admiral! We're reaching the designated altitude. The Convention's also opened fire.
Grant: You'd better get to the release hatch.
MONK: Fine with me.
13:00
A pod shoots out from under the A. C. C. G. Mercant...
13:04
Convention Defender: Sir, they've scattered our radars with Selective EMP.
Captain of Brest: I don't believe they're actually launching an attack directly on the capital planet, that's suicide! You're going to have to give me a visual, because I want to know how many of those bastards are up there. They're not going anywhere near this city.
Defender: We're counting about seventy ships.
Captain of Brest: We have to hold out until reinforcements arrive. Ready the cannons.
Defender: Sir, do you think they'll try to have any troops make a gravchute landing?
Captain of Brest: Doubtful. If there’s a group of them trying to bypass our defenses by making an independent landing, we’d spot them. And what good is it if some idiot tries to land by himself? We’re already in the process of procuring Gavan’s invention...
Defender: You still haven’t told me about that, sir.
Captain of Brest: Well, can you keep a secret, soldier?
Defender: Yes, sir.
Captain of Brest: Bwahahahaha, so can I! Now get back to your post.
13:15
MONK sneezes- someone’s talking about him, apparently.
MONK: I made a bit of a messy landing, but I'm here.
MONK always made it through dangerous situations like these, it was nothing new to him. This was probably thanks to the fact that the Convention had recently switched from microwaves and flak to laser defense systems... In which the enemy gained a much better advantage in focus, but the attacks were much less spread out. Meaning it would be easier for him to, well, not get shot.
After bumping past a couple of trees and landing rather ungracefully (he had wrecked his gravchute), he got up, dusted himself off, and pressed a button on his communicator. Not a second later came Grant's communication.
Grant: So you actually made it. Good. There should be a secret bunker north several ticks from your position, where the lab will be located. I'm afraid you're going to meet up with a lot of opposition, as apparently they've recently discovered the bunker's location.
MONK: Hell, then it's not secret anymore, is it? And you underestimate my stealth skills.
Grant: Just do your job, and there'll be no problems.
MONK: You're certainly the impatient one...
14:00
MONK: Right, I'm here. The bunker's underground cover is wide open, there's a huge gaping hole in the blast doors.
Grant: All the more reason for you to hurry up with your mission. The Conglomerate knows that there's an hourly fee along with the upfront cost of hiring you, and we wouldn't like it if you lounged around as you do.
MONK: It's concern like that which truly makes you a leader, eh, admiral? You must be an inspiration to all your men, because I'd sure hope to die at your feet while you're telling me that I’m burning a hole through your pockets-
Grant: Enough banter! We'll contact you in 00:10.
MONK: It's no skin off my back.
14:08
There are two soldiers standing in a dark hallway of the bunker. One of them is poking the dead body of a man in a white coat. The other hears a noise from behind them.
Soldier 1: You didn't have to unload that many bullets in him. Really, now.
Soldier 2: Wait a second. Did you hear that?
Soldier 1: Eh?
Soldier 2: Over there.
Soldier 1: You're just being paranoid.
Soldier 2: I'm going to check it out.
The other one stands up and starts walking away, muttering, 'suit yourself'.
Soldier 1: Hey Joe, when you're done checking out nothing, you mind coming over here and taking a look at-
CRIIIIIIIIIIK.
Soldier 1: What the fu-... Joe?
He runs back, finding his comrade lying there, dead. Someone had broken his neck. It was at this point that the soldier unholsters his gun, looking around warily. All he can hear is the beat of machinery in the background, as well as some leak in the pipes. Maybe he and Joe shouldn't have been so loose with gunning down all those old guys working at this place, or they wouldn't have shot the fusebox for this section to hell. The auxiliary power here sure sucked, because the lights kept flickering on and off... Where the hell was this guy? There was no possible way he could've gotten away so quickly. He had just come from one side, and on the other was an elevator that he was sure he would've heard.
What he had forgotten was the cardboard box laying there, silently creeping up on him while he looked around panic-stricken, lifting up and two hands reaching around his throat...
14:15
MONK: Hey, you're a bit late.
Grant: They’re holding us off better than we thought.
MONK: What happened to that entrepreneurial efficiency you guys are so used to displaying? Buying them off failed to pay off?
Grant ignores that question.
Grant: What is your current position?
MONK: B12. Hey, I think everyone in here is dead, including the ones I killed myself… Can’t we break out the wine and go with a ‘mission accomplished’-
Grant: Keep searching.
A couple of hallways farther in…
Dr. Gavan: I'll die before I let them get their hands on the reverse time-dilation device, and it'll be a cold day in hell before they get their hands on the LD. Neither the Convention nor the Conglomerate must be allowed to use them!
Gavan’s loyal robotic assistant, self-aware M4 unit 5K. Has a habit of calling other humans besides Gavan, meatbag.
Suddenly, two heavily armed Convention troops bust through the door.
M4-5K: Doctor, look out!
Too late- Gavan is gunned down before he could resist.
M4-5K: Doctor…!
Dr. Gavan: Ugh… Mask… Tell my wife… I loved her huge breasts.
As the doctor breathed his last, the only thing that M4-5K was thinking was, ‘That is going to be awkward.’
Soldier: You there! M4! Where are they?
M4-5K: You’ll never get them from me, meatbag.
Soldier: You pile of junk. I’ll rip out your sound circuits myself-
M4-5K is ready to open fire on them with a rifle, despite being outnumbered, when someone lobs a flash grenade into the room. M4-5K ducks just as someone screams and another opens fire… Then the
criiik of breaking necks.
MONK: Wow, that’s not bad. I wasted a ‘nade, but no bullets. That must be a new record-
M4-5K: Who are you!?
MONK: Damn, that was the last guy. I was supposed to get SOMEONE out of here.
M4-5K: I
seriously doubt that, meatbag. Now that Gavan’s dead, it is my duty to protect his project.
MONK: I
seriously don’t know what you’re talking about-
Grant speaks up from MONK’s communicator.
Grant: If they’ve all been killed, retrieve whatever the lab’s produced. Go through the M4 unit if you have to.
MONK: Well, you heard the man. You’ll have to hand it over to us. Whatever it is.
M4-5K: So you really don’t know what they’re after.
MONK: What’s it to me?
M4-5K: You’re not understanding the gravity of this- do you know that this lab was produced for the express purpose of creating new tools that could basically end this whole conflict in one fell swoop for the Conglomerate?
MONK: Everyone’s trying to develop new technologies for something like that-
M4-5K: This time, it’s different. They’ve built a time machine.
MONK: Don’t BS with me. That kind of stuff is impossible.
M4-5K: Do you think I would joke about this, meatbag? Dr. Gavan was a scientist who experimented with the ideas around relativity and time dilation. He was giving huge sums of money by the Conglomerate and left to go about his own way because he was extremely brilliant. What he produced was a fantasy that the scientific community has been ridiculing, observing, and even dreaming about for centuries. Finally, a creation in which man could go back in time to change the past!
MONK: Damn… I don’t believe it.
M4-5K pulls the cloth off of a machine that looks like a small portable terminal.
MONK: Somehow, I thought it was going to be a bit more impressive than that. Then again, you’re being rather adamant about it, so-
M4-5K: It isn’t the end of it- one of the Doctor’s associates was a chemist who created a drug that could prolong-
Grant: Enough! Destroy him, mercenary, and bring back the device!
MONK lifts up his gun, when M4-5K continues to speak.
M4-5K: Haven’t you ever wanted to make a change, mercenary! In a world like this!?
MONK: Make a change? Me? The individual’s limelight is done, over with. A single man can’t change a damn thing.
M4-5K: Consider this, then! If you let the Conglomerate get their hands on time-travel, they’ll be able to shape the Earth into their own corporate image, ruling it in a way that they would Alpha Centauri, Mars, and other planets they’ve ruined with their excessive industry. And if the Convention managed to capture it, who knows what a group of incompetent, squabbling leaders will do, replicating the technology and waging time wars against each other in an attempt to make their own respective countries better than the others! This is in your hands, mercenary. Are you willing to ruin the world- no, the universe, with your actions?
MONK: What are you asking me to do!? Neither you nor I could hide something like this from them indefinitely!
MONK begins contemplating on what to do, while he and M4-5K point their weapons at each other. Grant shouts shrilly at MONK.
Grant:
We didn’t pay you to think!
But MONK was beginning to realize how much was at stake… And he’s always thought about things… But this time, he was actually about to act on them. More time passed by…
MONK: Goddammit…
Grant: I’m warning you, mercenary!
Suddenly, loud noises erupt around them and the bunker itself begins to jerk and quake. M4-5K begins to input some numbers in the time-travel terminal.
M4-5K: It’s no longer an option! We’ve wasted too much time, and the Convention will bomb this place to kingdom come.
MONK: Damn it…
M4-5K: Do you want to die here, meatbag?
MONK: Of course not, despite how pointless my life is.
M4-5K: Then come with me, and we can get this device to where neither side can get to us- the annals of time!
MONK: How dramatic. Just hurry up and get it functioning!
A swirling portal appeared before them.
M4-5K: Get in, now!
The robot jumps through.
Grant: Don’t you dare!
MONK: Nothing else for it! It wasn’t a pleasure, admiral!
MONK leaps through the portal after M4-5K. All he can remember is two things: the entry, when his body lurched about and his head spun as if it would come off; and the landing, where he slammed onto the dirt, unconscious.
END OF ARC I
Author's Note: Points to whoever knows where I got the pics for MONK, M4-5K, and Helmer. 
