The Shepherd’s Path, Part 15: Aftermath
Word traveled fast of this “Miracle,” and those in leadership positions blew it off as nothing more than an overblown story. A whole assault force wiped out by “angels from heaven?” It had to be a joke. The destruction of the force was attributed to “bandits and highwaymen.” Two weeks later it happened again. And then it happened again, and again. Authorities initially tried to hide these attacks, but rumors spread of the “angels'' and their wrath. Soon, all attempts to hide the existence of these attacks were abandoned. Efforts to identify the attackers were met with failure, with only a few eyewitness reports whose testimony was ultimately deemed unbelievable. Massive bipedal and multipedal combat walkers dropping from the sky? Advanced laser weapons? Cannons that could melt tanks and their crews? All of this with no trace of their arrival or departure, aside from the carnage left in their wake.
Within Sanctuary, the initial operation and subsequent follow ups were a resounding success, with momentum building to use their strength to guide the planet in a new direction. Seeing this role as a divinely appointed duty, the people of Sanctuary adopted a new name as a sign of this new mission. When Sanctuary agents would interact with people on the outside, they all used a common reply when asked for their identity. The phrase “I am but a simple Shepherd” was well known in certain circles and the name stuck. This first operation would mark the end of the era called “The Collapse.”
“The Collective of a New Canaan put out a statement yesterday, claiming that bandits and highwaymen were responsible for the mysterious attack that took place last week. The perpetrators will be hunted down and exter…”
A heavy mug slammed down on the metal table next to the radio. Its alcoholic contents sloshed around and over the edge. “Did you hear that, boys and girls?” exclaimed Sergeant Donnell. “Bandits and highwaymen, the lot of you!” His words were slurred due to the fact this was his seventh mug. Donnell brought his hands to his hips and made them look like a child’s rendition of a gun. “Stand and deliver!” he yelled, laughing heartily despite few having heard him.
They had all been waiting for this, and the room had erupted in cheers. Agents on the outside had gotten word back of the exact time this radio broadcast would occur. The angel pilots and infantry that took part in the operation were all gathered in the mess. Even Corporal Jarvis managed to make it despite his broken ankle making him the first, and only, casualty of the operation. The room was full of cheers, laughter, clapping, and the sound of a handful of mess hall personnel trying to keep the food and drinks flowing. This was a celebration, and they knew it wouldn’t be the last. Years of training and simulated combat had paid off, and their little force — the only officially active one so far—had made their mark on history.
The next week, as pilots and infantry reported to duty, they noticed some enterprising individual had painted a mural on the hanger wall. Upon inspection, it was also on every angel and vehicle in the hangar. It was a grinning skull on a roundel, with one hand pointing an old-fashioned revolver at the viewer. Around the top of the roundel was the words 1st Battalion and, on the bottom, in stylized letters, was the phrase “Stand and Deliver”.
