How Annoying

Isaiah relaxed on a chair made from two Rabdos corpses, kicking back with his feet up. He leaned against the flat of his sword, piercing his prey he sat on. He stared at the mission briefing projected before him as his brothers finished killing the rest of the Legion in the area. The flickering vision board displayed a grainy aerial scan of the ruins—a skeletal city long abandoned, its metal bones ripe for reclamation.

Iron. All this trouble for iron. How noble. Deploy, grab some rusted scrap, and haul it back like good little drones. Would’ve been easy—if not for the little signs of a potential Lilith in the area.

Lilith weren’t just trouble; they were death wrapped in silk. Tall and lithe, with translucent skin stretched over an impossibly long frame, their faces were smooth and featureless except for a mouth that split from ear to ear, lined with needle-like teeth. Long hair drifted as if underwater, and long, barbed claws extended from their delicate fingers. They moved like quickly and commanded other Malthisans with a tactician's wit. Jealous by nature, they hunted women relentlessly, tearing them apart in frenzies of spite.

He’d seen one once, when he was newly promoted Seraphim. It tore his throat out with a single swipe. His Silver Sister, Josette, got the worst of it. He sacrificed all of himself to save her and his squad, but only three survived. Brothers Augustine, Darius, and Josiah. Since then, he kept them by his side on every mission, though Darius was called to pick up Sister Angelique. If there was even a whisper of a Lilith near this assignment, Command should’ve been calling in a purge squad, not a reclamation team.

Isaiah sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Perfect,” he muttered. “Why not throw in a tornado and an earthquake while we're at it?”

The radio crackled to life. Isaiah clicked the receiver, already bracing for stupidity.

"Seraphim Isaiah," came the dry, bored voice of Command. "Confirming the status of Silver Sister's arrival. Support will arrive in—"

"Yeah, how about no?" Isaiah interrupted, his tone casual, almost bored. "Call it off. Or find someone else who feels like dying over scrap metal."

A pause. Then the voice returned, clipped and just irritated enough to amuse him. "Your concerns, Seraphim?"

"Oh, nothing big. Just that there might be a Lilith out there. Maybe we focus on not getting everyone murdered?"

Another pause. Longer this time. He pictured some stiff in a chair checking a report, shrugging, and deciding his life wasn’t worth delaying the schedule.

"Seraphim Isaiah," the voice said. "Command has reviewed the reports. No conclusive evidence of a Lilith has been found. The mission stands."

Isaiah tilted his head back and groaned. "Fantastic. Okay, bare minimum then—don’t send the Sister."

"Silver Sister Angelique has already been assigned. Her expertise will be invaluable."

"Invaluable? She’s not even a real Silver Sister," he shot back. "And if there is a Lilith? Sister Angelique will be target number one. This is a death sentence for someone untrained."

"Then you will neutralize it," the voice snapped back, all patience gone. "The Lord has decided. Angelique will be in your care. We expect a full report upon your return."

The radio clicked off before he could reply.

Isaiah set the receiver down just shy of shattering it, shaking his head with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. "Sure. Why not. Babysitting duty on a suicide run. Love this job."

And now this happens. Angelique. Some Sister he didn’t even know. A desk girl shoved into a war zone because someone needed to tick a box on a form. Unlike Josette. Bred from her proving, she could take on a swarm of Legion without help, and a Rabdos with some. Bright, eager, and gone in a heartbeat because of Isaiah's weakness. He'd buried that loss under shed blood and duty, but that doesn't make it not his fault. If he had killed that Lilith sooner, he wouldn't need a replacement Sister on such short notice that they'd pluck a random one from the pile.

Isaiah raised the receiver once more. He wasn't going to have another one die just because he was told to. If a Lilith was in the area, it'd be annoying enough to deal with it already. He didn't need it getting that jealousy buff.

"Reliquary, this is Seraphim Isaiah," he said into the comm, leaning back in his chair. "You process that new Silver Sister yet? Angelique."

"She should be coming in for her second transfusion soon." The sister said.

"It looks like there may be a Lilith in the area. I want you to turn her away. She can have her transfusion another day." Isaiah said calmly.

"But, brother..." The sister sounded confused. "She won't be able to join you without her transfusion."

"Exactly right, sister."

"Brother, I don't have that kind of authority." The sister stated.

"Listen! Don't bother with the new Sister," Isaiah said, losing his patience. "She's a waste of time."

A brief silence followed before the Sister in charge of Transfusions responded, her tone uncertain. "But, Brother Isaiah, the Lord has decreed—"

"I don’t care what was decreed." Isaiah interrupted, his voice sharp with irritation. "She'll only make things harder. Keep her there."

He hung up the radio once more, mumbling in his annoyance. The Lord had to know. Maybe this was a test. Maybe He just hated Isaiah personally.

Isaiah scanned his surroundings with a discerning eye. No immediate threats were detected. The soldiers were busy setting up a perimeter for a base. Protocol dictated that after a skirmish, camp is to be made immediately and the Malthisans are to be processed into edible rations and nutrient paste. The reclamation team assisted while maintaining and repairing their transport truck.

Isaiah wanted to take a nap. He wanted to sleep off his frustration, but had to be on alert. He flexed his wrist for a moment. The IV tube that ran through his armor from his right arm and to his palm let slip a few drops of blood, which fell for a moment before suspending in the air. The drops came together magnetically, swirling and changing shape to that of a small eye with wings and a mouth. The released blood flew up high to watch over the camp in progress and alert all those below of Malthisans in the vicinity.

His eyes fluttered, closing for what seemed like only a moment. The camp sprang up around him with expert efficiency. His sleep was cut short as a voice broke through the radio a short time later.

"A number of Rabdos have attacked the transport!" The voice shouted from the radio. "We're going down! Requesting backup at the following coordinates."

Isaiah's eyes shot open as he grabbed the radio, the miniature vision board on the face displaying the coordinates of the attack. He stood, gripping his sword, pulling it from his throne of corpses. With a sharp whistle, Augustine and Josiah gathered around him.

"We got a transport in distress." He called. "Everyone finishes camp. All armed brothers are to watch the perimeter. I'm leaving my Blood Eye with you, but stay alert. Brother's Augustine, Josiah, and I will be back in 4 hours."

The brothers gave a quick salute to their commander. Josiah shuffled his bulky rifle over his shoulder while Augustine held his spear in both hands behind his back, falling in step behind Isaiah. They hadn't a vehicle to spare for this mission, only being given the truck to haul the iron. If they were going to make it, they'd have to start running. The three began sprinting in the direction of the transport, Isaiah leaving behind a mouthful of frustration in his wake.

"How annoying..."