"THIRTY SECONDS!" someone shouted. The soldiers all exhaled with
nervousness they would never admit to having. All except for one man, who
wore the stripes of a captain. The N.E.G military was a tough business, and
most didn't make it beyond sergeant...most field soldiers at least. The
captain called for their attention, having to yell over the roar of the
assault vehicles massive tires. "ALRIGHT! WE'RE COMING UP ON EM! ALPHA
TEAM, HEAD STRAIGHT FOR THE BOARDING PLATFORM! BRAVO, YOU'RE GOING FOR THE
WEAPONS CACHE! ONCE WE BREACH THE REPAIR VESSEL, WATCH YOUR FIRE, YOU LIGHT
THAT TANKER UP AND WE'RE ALL GONNA COOK! CHECK YOUR TARGETS AND KEEP A
STEADY HAND! LOCK AND LOAD!" he shouted over the roar, slamming a clip into
his AR770. The soldiers grumbled and looked nervous, but ready to fight.
They would perform just fine once they got going. Adrenaline was all they
needed. He DID however notice, one of the privates, a private "Rancid" by
his tag, was looking extra nervous. His breathing was short but deep, and
his hands where white knuckle tight on his...and the captain stopped his
unvoiced criticisms. Rancid was a sniper, and sniper shots on this mission
were going to be insane...the vehicles were moving at over 250 mph across
scorching desert, carrying two warheads of mass destruction. And then there
was no more time to complain or think about anything, as the doors to the
massive vehicle opened. "MOVE! GO-GO-GO! KEEP YOUR HEADS DOWN!" the captain
shouted as they moved onto the deck. The Hellions were not totally
oblivious to their advance though. As soon as the doors opened, a mounted
chain gun turret opened fire. The men dropped as gigantic bullets hammered
into the impossible armor of the heavy assault transport. "Christ, this is
fun" someone next to Rancid whispered. "GO AROUND TO THE TURRET AND
DISTRACT HIM! WE'LL COVER YOU!" the Captain ordered. Chips and bits of
armor crashed down upon their heads as they stayed ducked behind the ramp.
The turret had ceased its firing for the moment, but seconds later, a loud
buzz came from their right as the military vehicles chain gun opened up.
Immediately, the turret on the repair vessel returned fire, but chain guns
were meant to spray lead everywhere, not hit a specific target at range.
"RANCID! TAKE HIM OUT!" the captain shouted. Rancid popped up, raising his
scope to eye level. Steadily he took aim, peering through the scope. Upon
seeing a sniper appear, the two rebels next to the turret scattered back
inside. Rancid fired once, the heavy sniper's rifle recoiling hard, leaving
a cloud of powder in the air, and Rancid grinning as the first kill was
scored. The operator of the turret was suddenly slumped over the controls,
a gigantic, bloody mess where his head once was. "CLEAR!" Rancid shouted,
waving the troops onward. They dashed up the ramp and leapt from the heavy
assault transport to the cargo trailer of the boarding platform, moving
quickly for the cover of a roof. Rancid was right behind them, still
watching for movement from the repair vessel. And indeed they worked
quickly. The body was brutally tossed onto the desert floor below,
impacting at about 247 miles per hour, literally disintegrating the body
into flaming bloody chunks of gore that skipped along the desert floor,
quickly winking out of sight. One soldier saw them, and reacted quicker
than Rancid, his assault rifle sounding off as a trio of rounds hammered
into one of the men. Most of the rounds were embedded into the man's crude
armor, but one got through and punctured his chest, and blood poured onto
his armor, dropping him to the deck plate. His body was kicked aside as
another man mounted the gun turret, and poured fire at Rancid, who was the
last man in the line of men. Heavy rounds blasted into the deck plate at a
slightly oblique angle, and one ricocheted right into Rancid's water
bottle. "SON OF A BITCH!" he yelled, tossing the bottle off his leg to
prevent burns. The line of men stopped on the underside of the boarding
platform, between two ramps, the Captain calling for attention. "OK! THE
PLATFORM WILL GIVE U SOME COVER, BUT WATCH YOUR FEET, THEY'LL BE OPEN TO
ATTACK! KEEP YOUR HEAD DOWN AND MOVE QUICK...ALPHA, WAIT HERE UNTIL BRAVO HAS
SECURED THE FORWARD WEAPONS CACHE! READY? GO!" he yelled at them over the
impossible roar of the vehicle convoy. Bravo team dashed forward
fearlessly, and Rancid, along with the others, moved to the other side, to
lay down covering fire. Assault rifles sounded off as Rancid took aim. He
was just about to fire again, when a rebel armed with a shock rifle fired
at him. He dropped instantly, a bright purple beam of energy burning a
small hole in the deck plate behind him. He swallowed and tossed his beret
aside, a gaping, searing hot hole in it. Had be been a second later, he
would have died. "WATCH OUT! THEY'VE GOT ENERGY WEAPONS!" he yelled out. A
private to the left of him nodded, and then returned to firing his rifle in
large, full auto barrages. Very quickly, enemy counter fire intensified,
and they were forced to take full cover after someone with a link gun
nearly incinerated someone's arm. Slowly, Rancid crept back slowly; looking
for a target...and a bloodied body fell onto him, several large holes in the
man's back. ***
The sergeant of the Bravo team growled in frustration. He hadn't expected snipers on the weapons cache. The turret he could deal with, but Snipers were a problem. All of a sudden, the vehicle hit a substantially large bump, and they all lost their balance, falling forward onto the deck plate. It was a slaughter, the turret blowing bloody masses of bone and flesh off their bodies, the snipers exploiting open points in their armor. Men screamed, men died, and bullets flew. A few had the instinct to blindly return fire, despite their wounds. Assault rifles chattered, and lead flew. Out of 10 men, 3 remained of the Bravo team. The sergeant ducked back behind the control cabin of the vehicle, close to the switch for the boarding platform, but sadly, it was not his objective. Weapons fire could be heard from below and to his right, as Alpha team tried nobly to cover them...however fruitless the task was. "HEY! SARGE! I GOT THAT BASTARD! I GOT HIM! HEADSHOT! WOOO!! WHOS THE FUCKIN MAN!" someone yelled, shaking a fist. The sergeant couldn't help but grin. "CAN IT SOLDIER, WE'RE SHORT SIX MEN! I WANT YOU USE GRENADES! AIM FOR THE OTHER SNIPER AND THE TURRET, MANX, YOU TAKE THE TURRET OUT WITH THAT ROCKET LAUNCHER! ALRIGHT, COVERING FIRE!" he yelled, leaping out firing his rifle as he dove onto the weapons cache vehicle, rolling down a ramp to a small bit of cover. The two other men were right behind him, Manx holding his Trident Tri Barrel rocket system as if it was an old enforcer pistol. The other man readied his launcher, popped up and let one go, the sergeant right behind him. A brief volley of four grenades each flew towards the turret and the sniper, each round hitting its mark. The sniper dove, but he was too late, and a crueler fate awaited him. The explosion launched him off to the right, and his body smashed into the boarding platform vehicle, causing enough kinetic energy to blow his body to smithereens. The other two grenades detonated a bit short of their mark, but blew up brief clouds of smoke. Manx doubled jumped onto the roof, loading all three barrels of the Trident before he fired. The three warheads blasted into the turret, and it exploded in a shower of sparks and fire, the operator falling out dead. "GET THAT PANEL OPEN! ALPHA, YOU'RE CLEAR TO ADVANCE!" the sergeant yelled into his radio. Alpha moved quickly up towards the platform, and soon, it was slowly extending itself. Manx braced himself, and three warheads flew from his trident again. Two missed, and exploded against the deck plates of the repair vehicles upper deck, but one smashed into the turrets Plexiglas shielding, blowing the operators head apart. Manx howled like a wolf and moved his hips back and forth, thrusting his pelvis at the rebel vehicle, taunting them. The sergeant chuckled briefly as he moved for the cache of weapons. He slung his rifle over his back as Alpha moved in to join them. Weapons were EVERYWHERE. The sergeant grabbed himself a shock rifle, and a few extra shock cores. They had all been trained on these weapons, but they were rarely seen in anything but war, which meant the death penalty for these terrorists. Of course, why go through the formalities, when you could just shoot them here and now. The captain dropped down, and grabbed himself a man portable mini gun. "Ohhh YEAH ITS OWN NOW BOYZ! I'M GONNA MOW THESE BASTARDS DOWN!" he crowed in a faked psychopathic voice. Someone snickered as they grabbed a flak cannon, a VERY dangerous weapon at close range. With that, the hell resumed. The now mere 23 men charged across the boarding platform, the gun turrets unable to hit them. Instead of employing gun turrets, rebels used antigravity platforms to launch themselves over to the boarding platform, spin around, and pour fire at them. Their arms were powerful indeed. Link guns and shock rifles, chain guns and one man sporting a trident rocket launcher. Plasma bolts hammered into the bulkhead as the NEG forces sprinted for the door. ***
Trax was a huge man. There was no other way to put it, he was just huge. His arms looked more dangerous than shield cannon at full power, and his legs looked like he could jump clear over a goliath tank. His face was focused as he fired his shock rifle as fast as he could, coming very close several times. The military valiantly returned fire, but they were without any significant cover. Plasma shots and shock beams came from them now and then, but they were merely quickly aimed potshots. One military man's AR770 sunk a round into someone's head, and he fell, dead, dropping his sniper rifle. Trax paused in his firing to scoop up the sniper rifle, and sling it across his shoulder before he fired a shock core...timed it carefully, and blasted it. The result was unseen, as the soldiers had gathered behind the bulkhead where the door was. But they were suddenly out again, firing fast. This time, their attack was focused, and the rebel Hellions had to take cover as they were quickly pinned down. Shock beams and plasma bursts crisscrossed the air, bullets lanced out at either vehicle as the soldiers pressed their assault. Someone foolishly fired a flak cannon, but got lucky, as one bit of shrapnel penetrated a Hellion's leg. Trax heard him scream and fall, blood pouring from his thigh, someone swearing and moving to help. In response to this, he picked up the man's dropped shock rifle, and held it in his left hand. Now holding two shock rifles, he popped out of his cover, and sprayed shock cores at his foes, which scattered like mice before a cat. Then, he fired of shock beams, creating massive plasma explosions, and creating sizzling fires across the deck. The soldiers meekly returned fire as they tried to reform their ranks. But more Hellions came to his assistance, adding more firepower to the fray. Someone fired off a rocket, and Trax grinned as it punched into a soldier, gutting him like a fish, then detonated, leaving nothing but legs. One soldier screamed and stood, capping off about 100 mini gun rounds before he was pulled back. An explosion came from the door and Trax swore. They were in the repair vessel. Before they all dashed back, three men with trident rocket launchers fired three warheads each. Trax swore and sprinted, and the rockets slammed into the Hellion ranks. Bodies exploded, shrapnel decapitated, dismembered, and dislocated bodies, and men died. Trax grunted in pain as he landed on the cargo trailer, blood leaking from his left shoulder. He swore and oath and moved back towards the boarding ramp, chocking back nausea from all the gore, but managing to scoop up a pair of assault rifles, the two shock rifles long gone from his dive. He crossed the ramp and watched in horror as the rear door of the repair vessel opened, and a transport full of soldiers moved into the back. The repair vessel's crew would fight to the last man, but it was a lost cause before it even began. Trax hopped back down onto the deck, and fired a quick burst at a pair of sentries outside the breached door. They dropped, bullets in their heads. Trax knew that the repair vessel was lost, but he was going to make them pay for it. He scooped up a radio from the dead soldiers and pressed a series of switches and spoke two words into the receiver. "Kill them"***
The Hellions were fighting hard, but advanced weaponry in the hands of well trained soldiers was mowing them down. Link guns were devastating at close ranges, and the soldiers took full advantage of this. Shafts of green energy vaporized men left and right as they slowly advanced. Shock beams lanced out to burn fatal holes in chests and heads. Bullets chewed through armor and punched holes into delicate organs, and one man had the audacity to pull his enforcer pistol and shoot someone in the knee before slicing him in half with a flak cannon. The battle raged for mere minutes, and the soldiers moved quickly through the repair vessel's main bay, moving up towards the side door switch. The Hellions were forced back up a ramp that led to the upper level. A few men were sent to sweep it out. But the Hellions went berserk at this assault, and bodies were sent back down in pieces, flak and bullets leaking from them in black and red blood. Rancid was grateful when they shut the hatch. His sniper rifle had been slung over his shoulder, traded for a shock rifle he had picked up. The NEG men opened the side doors quickly, but as soon as they did, the Hellions struck again. Hatches in the roof opened, and they dropped down, firing. Charlie and Delta teams were caught in complete openness, and they were cut to ribbons within seconds. The NEG forces were effectively halved. Rancid swore as he ducked a plasma blast, firing his shock rifle with practiced skill. The beam of purple energy sliced off a man's arm and he went down, screaming blue murder. The terrorists kept firing, and several plasma blasts slammed into the former sergeant of Charlie team's stomach, like electric fists. A green field of plasma consumed his body, and he fell, dead. Rancid swore again, and dumped a shock core. He fired a beam into it, and detonated it among a crowd of rebels, who were streaming out of holes in the roof. Alpha team had lost only two men, sentries to some kind of ambush, and now, they quickly retreated out the side doors. The Captain quickly took the situation in hand, now that the objective trailer was in sight. "THE MISSILES ARE IN THERE! GET IN THERE, AND GET EM OUT! LETS GO!" he shouted at what men were left. With that he leapt off the repair vessel...landing hard on a trailer carrying piping. But the Hellions caught them off guard again. Another turret opened fire, and the next thing everyone knew was that the Captain was falling onto his face, gaping holes in his back. "Oh my god...we're fucked man, we're FUCKED!" someone said, panicking. Rancid however, wasn't about to let the mission collapse. "GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER OVER THERE! WE'RE GONNA DO EXACTLY WHAT WE WERE TRAINED TO DO! WE ALL JUMP AT ONCE, AND TAKE COVER BEHIND THOSE PIPES! LETS GO, BEFORE THAT OTHER TURRET FIRES!" he yelled. At once, all the men ran and jumped. The turret on top of the repair vessel caught one man in midair but the rest made it behind the pipes to cover. Rancid was just about to leap when men began to come out of side door down at the opposite end of the vessel, towards the aft. He raised the shock rifle and fired, the beam punching through one mans head and into another's. Brains fell atop the catwalk as he fired again and again from a crouch, men falling dead as they appeared. The door behind him had sealed, and men continued to pour from the ones in front of it. By now, the other turret had activated, and Rancid was forced to leap across to join the men who were effectively pinned down. "SIR, THERES NO WAY WE'RE GONNA MAKE IT TO THAT TRAILER IF WE DON'T TAKE OUT ONE OF THOSE TURRETS! WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO!?" a panicked sounding private asked him as if he was a higher rank. Rancid called for their attention over the roar of turrets and the wind from such high speeds. "OK! WE'RE GONNA TAKE OUT THE TURRET ON THE WEAPON TRAILER! AIM FOR THE OPERATOR! IGNORE ALL OTHER ENEMIES!" he ordered. With that, he switched the shock rifle for his sniper's rifle, and peered around the corner at a crouch. They spotted him, but before they could react, he fired. His shot missed, smashing into armor, and probably causing some damage, but it didn't matter now. He ducked back around to reload as assault rifles chattered. Quickly reloading, he noticed his ammo was low for the sniper rifle. Deciding he had better make it count, he peered back around the corner and fired again. One man went down with a bullet hole where his eye once was. He cycled the bolt and fired again, the operator of the turret fell out of the chair, dead. Cycling the bolt one more time, he squeezed off a last shot, and a third man went down with a hole in his chest, that men with assault rifles exploited wonderfully. 5.56mm rounds tore into flesh and blew gaping holes in the bodies of the Hellion rebels. There was no time to reflect however, as they were short for time. "FOLLOW ME!" Rancid crowed. He sprinted forward, and jumped onto the trailer before running up a ramp and double jumping to the other side, landing hard, but in cover. More Hellions were arriving to re-man the turret on the weapons trailer, but Rancid had them covered. He fired a total of four shots, scoring a total of five kills. Men were landing behind him, but precious few. The turret on the repair vessel had been deadlier than he thought. Many of his men had been cut to ribbons as they moved to where he was. About five men remained, and the Hellions were still launching themselves to the weapons trailer, making a furious stand with what small arms they had. Rancid and his men had an excellent position however, and they simply dropped man after man, until finally Rancid ordered an advance. They moved up behind some cargo boxes before the turret had them pinned down. Only now, their position wasn't that great, and men with small arms were becoming priority targets. Rancid somehow managed to pick off the operator of the turret, and a few more men, but his rifle was empty. He tossed the weapon as hard as he could at a Hellion who had landed in a crouch. The giant gun hit him in the face and knocked him out cold. Rancid waved the men forward, and they all fell one by one into the weapons trailer. Upon detecting this, the giant doors on either side opened, and upon seeing THAT, the NEG flatbed moved into position. ***
Trax landed atop the weapons trailer with a thud, a link gun in one hand and a shock rifle in the other. As they proceeded, the attack on the missiles would become more and more difficult. Hellion rebels charged to the back, pouring down the hatch, spraying plasma and energy. But the soldiers were quick thinking, and used the N.E.X.U.S missiles for cover. In fear of what might happen, the Hellion men held their fire and took what cover they could as the soldiers cut them to ribbons. Finally, one man got fed up, and launched a grenade. The explosion sent a body flying over the missiles, landing hard upon the deck. Trax waved the men forward, and the moved to either open side loading door, effectively flanking the soldiers, who continued to pour fire on them. Trax realized his hasty mistake, as he had led his men out from behind cover to in the open. The soldiers took full advantage of this, and mowed down all but one man. Trax sat behind the box, looking stolid. His link gun was nearly dry, and his shock rifle had one shot in it. He pretty much knew he was dead. But if he could, was going to make the best of his death. He burst from behind the box, and fired the shock rifle. A soldier holding a trident tri barrel rocket launcher dropped, headless. He tossed the rifle, and it hit another man in the face, dropping him with what was most likely a nasty concussion. The soldiers were returning fire now, assault rifles chattering away, depleted energy weapons tossed aside. Trax squeezed the trigger and held it on the link gun. A hail of plasma shots slammed into one mans chest, and blew bone and flaming flesh out the back. He switched to a steady stream and vaporized another man. There was one man left, raising a shock rifle. Trax knew he was going to die here. The man squeezed the trigger, and the weapon fizzled. "Oh, FUCK!" the man yelled, diving for cover as Trax raised the link gun, sending two plasma shots into the deck where he had just been. There was a sharp sound as the man pulled a small sidearm of some kind, probably an old enforcer pistol, judging by the sound of the bolt being cycled. Trax moved towards the crate the man had ducked behind, ready to fire. ***
Rancid was NOT happy. His enforcer was a strong weapon, but he had only ONE extra clip, definitely not good, especially if this was the kind of man he thought he was dealing with, a genetic experiment. He cocked the weapon and made ready to fire, needing a headshot. All at once the Hellion came around the corner, and Rancid fired. He had been surprised though, and his shot bounced off chest armor. Having no time for another shot, he dove from behind the crate as plasma burned holes in the plating. He got to his feet, and found himself standing on a side panel. A small NEG jeep was moving in between the three trailers, keeping up with the convoy, but constantly having to make adjustments. Rancid didn't even hesitate. He doubled jumped, and landed atop the jeep, barely keeping his feet. The giant Hellion looked impressed, but his reward was a hail of plasma shots. Five shots were fired...five shots missed as the jeep maneuvered forward. Rancid managed to fire another round, but it only struck him in the thigh pad, leaving him uninjured. The Hellion moved onto the door, took aim, and squeezed the trigger...and this time HIS weapon fizzled. Rancid fired quickly, and the giant man ducked back inside. Rancid switched clips, dropping the empty one, locking the last one in as he got ready to jump back to the weapons trailer. But the jeep moved too quickly, and as he jumped, the vehicle jerked, and his pistol was destroyed as it hit the desert floor. Rancid landed hard on the side door, and looked up, seeing the hellion charging him with a shield cannon, a small green charge on the end. He kicked his feet out, catching the man in the gut, knocking him backwards. Rancid leapt to his feet, and charged forward in desperation. Somehow, got a good grip on the riot control device, and a struggle ensued. The two men kicked and punched and head butted each other, neither letting go. They struggled and struggled, until finally, after several boots in his knee, Trax had to drop the cannon, the pain to much for him to bear. Rancid however, knew he was short for time, and got up, running to the switch for the missiles. He held it down and they slowly began to move forward....and then they were sliding sideways onto the trailer. Rancid released the switch, and watched as the trailer pulled away. He charged the shield cannon, and moved toward the hellion. The giant man was on his knees, valiantly trying to stand. Rancid put the weapon mere inches from his face, and released the charge. Had he been a centimeter closer...he would have killed him. Rancid dropped the weapon, and moved slowly to the opposite side door. He then leapt to the jeep, banged twice on its hatch, and they pulled away, victorious, leaving the smoking convoy behind forever.
The sergeant of the Bravo team growled in frustration. He hadn't expected snipers on the weapons cache. The turret he could deal with, but Snipers were a problem. All of a sudden, the vehicle hit a substantially large bump, and they all lost their balance, falling forward onto the deck plate. It was a slaughter, the turret blowing bloody masses of bone and flesh off their bodies, the snipers exploiting open points in their armor. Men screamed, men died, and bullets flew. A few had the instinct to blindly return fire, despite their wounds. Assault rifles chattered, and lead flew. Out of 10 men, 3 remained of the Bravo team. The sergeant ducked back behind the control cabin of the vehicle, close to the switch for the boarding platform, but sadly, it was not his objective. Weapons fire could be heard from below and to his right, as Alpha team tried nobly to cover them...however fruitless the task was. "HEY! SARGE! I GOT THAT BASTARD! I GOT HIM! HEADSHOT! WOOO!! WHOS THE FUCKIN MAN!" someone yelled, shaking a fist. The sergeant couldn't help but grin. "CAN IT SOLDIER, WE'RE SHORT SIX MEN! I WANT YOU USE GRENADES! AIM FOR THE OTHER SNIPER AND THE TURRET, MANX, YOU TAKE THE TURRET OUT WITH THAT ROCKET LAUNCHER! ALRIGHT, COVERING FIRE!" he yelled, leaping out firing his rifle as he dove onto the weapons cache vehicle, rolling down a ramp to a small bit of cover. The two other men were right behind him, Manx holding his Trident Tri Barrel rocket system as if it was an old enforcer pistol. The other man readied his launcher, popped up and let one go, the sergeant right behind him. A brief volley of four grenades each flew towards the turret and the sniper, each round hitting its mark. The sniper dove, but he was too late, and a crueler fate awaited him. The explosion launched him off to the right, and his body smashed into the boarding platform vehicle, causing enough kinetic energy to blow his body to smithereens. The other two grenades detonated a bit short of their mark, but blew up brief clouds of smoke. Manx doubled jumped onto the roof, loading all three barrels of the Trident before he fired. The three warheads blasted into the turret, and it exploded in a shower of sparks and fire, the operator falling out dead. "GET THAT PANEL OPEN! ALPHA, YOU'RE CLEAR TO ADVANCE!" the sergeant yelled into his radio. Alpha moved quickly up towards the platform, and soon, it was slowly extending itself. Manx braced himself, and three warheads flew from his trident again. Two missed, and exploded against the deck plates of the repair vehicles upper deck, but one smashed into the turrets Plexiglas shielding, blowing the operators head apart. Manx howled like a wolf and moved his hips back and forth, thrusting his pelvis at the rebel vehicle, taunting them. The sergeant chuckled briefly as he moved for the cache of weapons. He slung his rifle over his back as Alpha moved in to join them. Weapons were EVERYWHERE. The sergeant grabbed himself a shock rifle, and a few extra shock cores. They had all been trained on these weapons, but they were rarely seen in anything but war, which meant the death penalty for these terrorists. Of course, why go through the formalities, when you could just shoot them here and now. The captain dropped down, and grabbed himself a man portable mini gun. "Ohhh YEAH ITS OWN NOW BOYZ! I'M GONNA MOW THESE BASTARDS DOWN!" he crowed in a faked psychopathic voice. Someone snickered as they grabbed a flak cannon, a VERY dangerous weapon at close range. With that, the hell resumed. The now mere 23 men charged across the boarding platform, the gun turrets unable to hit them. Instead of employing gun turrets, rebels used antigravity platforms to launch themselves over to the boarding platform, spin around, and pour fire at them. Their arms were powerful indeed. Link guns and shock rifles, chain guns and one man sporting a trident rocket launcher. Plasma bolts hammered into the bulkhead as the NEG forces sprinted for the door. ***
Trax was a huge man. There was no other way to put it, he was just huge. His arms looked more dangerous than shield cannon at full power, and his legs looked like he could jump clear over a goliath tank. His face was focused as he fired his shock rifle as fast as he could, coming very close several times. The military valiantly returned fire, but they were without any significant cover. Plasma shots and shock beams came from them now and then, but they were merely quickly aimed potshots. One military man's AR770 sunk a round into someone's head, and he fell, dead, dropping his sniper rifle. Trax paused in his firing to scoop up the sniper rifle, and sling it across his shoulder before he fired a shock core...timed it carefully, and blasted it. The result was unseen, as the soldiers had gathered behind the bulkhead where the door was. But they were suddenly out again, firing fast. This time, their attack was focused, and the rebel Hellions had to take cover as they were quickly pinned down. Shock beams and plasma bursts crisscrossed the air, bullets lanced out at either vehicle as the soldiers pressed their assault. Someone foolishly fired a flak cannon, but got lucky, as one bit of shrapnel penetrated a Hellion's leg. Trax heard him scream and fall, blood pouring from his thigh, someone swearing and moving to help. In response to this, he picked up the man's dropped shock rifle, and held it in his left hand. Now holding two shock rifles, he popped out of his cover, and sprayed shock cores at his foes, which scattered like mice before a cat. Then, he fired of shock beams, creating massive plasma explosions, and creating sizzling fires across the deck. The soldiers meekly returned fire as they tried to reform their ranks. But more Hellions came to his assistance, adding more firepower to the fray. Someone fired off a rocket, and Trax grinned as it punched into a soldier, gutting him like a fish, then detonated, leaving nothing but legs. One soldier screamed and stood, capping off about 100 mini gun rounds before he was pulled back. An explosion came from the door and Trax swore. They were in the repair vessel. Before they all dashed back, three men with trident rocket launchers fired three warheads each. Trax swore and sprinted, and the rockets slammed into the Hellion ranks. Bodies exploded, shrapnel decapitated, dismembered, and dislocated bodies, and men died. Trax grunted in pain as he landed on the cargo trailer, blood leaking from his left shoulder. He swore and oath and moved back towards the boarding ramp, chocking back nausea from all the gore, but managing to scoop up a pair of assault rifles, the two shock rifles long gone from his dive. He crossed the ramp and watched in horror as the rear door of the repair vessel opened, and a transport full of soldiers moved into the back. The repair vessel's crew would fight to the last man, but it was a lost cause before it even began. Trax hopped back down onto the deck, and fired a quick burst at a pair of sentries outside the breached door. They dropped, bullets in their heads. Trax knew that the repair vessel was lost, but he was going to make them pay for it. He scooped up a radio from the dead soldiers and pressed a series of switches and spoke two words into the receiver. "Kill them"***
The Hellions were fighting hard, but advanced weaponry in the hands of well trained soldiers was mowing them down. Link guns were devastating at close ranges, and the soldiers took full advantage of this. Shafts of green energy vaporized men left and right as they slowly advanced. Shock beams lanced out to burn fatal holes in chests and heads. Bullets chewed through armor and punched holes into delicate organs, and one man had the audacity to pull his enforcer pistol and shoot someone in the knee before slicing him in half with a flak cannon. The battle raged for mere minutes, and the soldiers moved quickly through the repair vessel's main bay, moving up towards the side door switch. The Hellions were forced back up a ramp that led to the upper level. A few men were sent to sweep it out. But the Hellions went berserk at this assault, and bodies were sent back down in pieces, flak and bullets leaking from them in black and red blood. Rancid was grateful when they shut the hatch. His sniper rifle had been slung over his shoulder, traded for a shock rifle he had picked up. The NEG men opened the side doors quickly, but as soon as they did, the Hellions struck again. Hatches in the roof opened, and they dropped down, firing. Charlie and Delta teams were caught in complete openness, and they were cut to ribbons within seconds. The NEG forces were effectively halved. Rancid swore as he ducked a plasma blast, firing his shock rifle with practiced skill. The beam of purple energy sliced off a man's arm and he went down, screaming blue murder. The terrorists kept firing, and several plasma blasts slammed into the former sergeant of Charlie team's stomach, like electric fists. A green field of plasma consumed his body, and he fell, dead. Rancid swore again, and dumped a shock core. He fired a beam into it, and detonated it among a crowd of rebels, who were streaming out of holes in the roof. Alpha team had lost only two men, sentries to some kind of ambush, and now, they quickly retreated out the side doors. The Captain quickly took the situation in hand, now that the objective trailer was in sight. "THE MISSILES ARE IN THERE! GET IN THERE, AND GET EM OUT! LETS GO!" he shouted at what men were left. With that he leapt off the repair vessel...landing hard on a trailer carrying piping. But the Hellions caught them off guard again. Another turret opened fire, and the next thing everyone knew was that the Captain was falling onto his face, gaping holes in his back. "Oh my god...we're fucked man, we're FUCKED!" someone said, panicking. Rancid however, wasn't about to let the mission collapse. "GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER OVER THERE! WE'RE GONNA DO EXACTLY WHAT WE WERE TRAINED TO DO! WE ALL JUMP AT ONCE, AND TAKE COVER BEHIND THOSE PIPES! LETS GO, BEFORE THAT OTHER TURRET FIRES!" he yelled. At once, all the men ran and jumped. The turret on top of the repair vessel caught one man in midair but the rest made it behind the pipes to cover. Rancid was just about to leap when men began to come out of side door down at the opposite end of the vessel, towards the aft. He raised the shock rifle and fired, the beam punching through one mans head and into another's. Brains fell atop the catwalk as he fired again and again from a crouch, men falling dead as they appeared. The door behind him had sealed, and men continued to pour from the ones in front of it. By now, the other turret had activated, and Rancid was forced to leap across to join the men who were effectively pinned down. "SIR, THERES NO WAY WE'RE GONNA MAKE IT TO THAT TRAILER IF WE DON'T TAKE OUT ONE OF THOSE TURRETS! WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO!?" a panicked sounding private asked him as if he was a higher rank. Rancid called for their attention over the roar of turrets and the wind from such high speeds. "OK! WE'RE GONNA TAKE OUT THE TURRET ON THE WEAPON TRAILER! AIM FOR THE OPERATOR! IGNORE ALL OTHER ENEMIES!" he ordered. With that, he switched the shock rifle for his sniper's rifle, and peered around the corner at a crouch. They spotted him, but before they could react, he fired. His shot missed, smashing into armor, and probably causing some damage, but it didn't matter now. He ducked back around to reload as assault rifles chattered. Quickly reloading, he noticed his ammo was low for the sniper rifle. Deciding he had better make it count, he peered back around the corner and fired again. One man went down with a bullet hole where his eye once was. He cycled the bolt and fired again, the operator of the turret fell out of the chair, dead. Cycling the bolt one more time, he squeezed off a last shot, and a third man went down with a hole in his chest, that men with assault rifles exploited wonderfully. 5.56mm rounds tore into flesh and blew gaping holes in the bodies of the Hellion rebels. There was no time to reflect however, as they were short for time. "FOLLOW ME!" Rancid crowed. He sprinted forward, and jumped onto the trailer before running up a ramp and double jumping to the other side, landing hard, but in cover. More Hellions were arriving to re-man the turret on the weapons trailer, but Rancid had them covered. He fired a total of four shots, scoring a total of five kills. Men were landing behind him, but precious few. The turret on the repair vessel had been deadlier than he thought. Many of his men had been cut to ribbons as they moved to where he was. About five men remained, and the Hellions were still launching themselves to the weapons trailer, making a furious stand with what small arms they had. Rancid and his men had an excellent position however, and they simply dropped man after man, until finally Rancid ordered an advance. They moved up behind some cargo boxes before the turret had them pinned down. Only now, their position wasn't that great, and men with small arms were becoming priority targets. Rancid somehow managed to pick off the operator of the turret, and a few more men, but his rifle was empty. He tossed the weapon as hard as he could at a Hellion who had landed in a crouch. The giant gun hit him in the face and knocked him out cold. Rancid waved the men forward, and they all fell one by one into the weapons trailer. Upon detecting this, the giant doors on either side opened, and upon seeing THAT, the NEG flatbed moved into position. ***
Trax landed atop the weapons trailer with a thud, a link gun in one hand and a shock rifle in the other. As they proceeded, the attack on the missiles would become more and more difficult. Hellion rebels charged to the back, pouring down the hatch, spraying plasma and energy. But the soldiers were quick thinking, and used the N.E.X.U.S missiles for cover. In fear of what might happen, the Hellion men held their fire and took what cover they could as the soldiers cut them to ribbons. Finally, one man got fed up, and launched a grenade. The explosion sent a body flying over the missiles, landing hard upon the deck. Trax waved the men forward, and the moved to either open side loading door, effectively flanking the soldiers, who continued to pour fire on them. Trax realized his hasty mistake, as he had led his men out from behind cover to in the open. The soldiers took full advantage of this, and mowed down all but one man. Trax sat behind the box, looking stolid. His link gun was nearly dry, and his shock rifle had one shot in it. He pretty much knew he was dead. But if he could, was going to make the best of his death. He burst from behind the box, and fired the shock rifle. A soldier holding a trident tri barrel rocket launcher dropped, headless. He tossed the rifle, and it hit another man in the face, dropping him with what was most likely a nasty concussion. The soldiers were returning fire now, assault rifles chattering away, depleted energy weapons tossed aside. Trax squeezed the trigger and held it on the link gun. A hail of plasma shots slammed into one mans chest, and blew bone and flaming flesh out the back. He switched to a steady stream and vaporized another man. There was one man left, raising a shock rifle. Trax knew he was going to die here. The man squeezed the trigger, and the weapon fizzled. "Oh, FUCK!" the man yelled, diving for cover as Trax raised the link gun, sending two plasma shots into the deck where he had just been. There was a sharp sound as the man pulled a small sidearm of some kind, probably an old enforcer pistol, judging by the sound of the bolt being cycled. Trax moved towards the crate the man had ducked behind, ready to fire. ***
Rancid was NOT happy. His enforcer was a strong weapon, but he had only ONE extra clip, definitely not good, especially if this was the kind of man he thought he was dealing with, a genetic experiment. He cocked the weapon and made ready to fire, needing a headshot. All at once the Hellion came around the corner, and Rancid fired. He had been surprised though, and his shot bounced off chest armor. Having no time for another shot, he dove from behind the crate as plasma burned holes in the plating. He got to his feet, and found himself standing on a side panel. A small NEG jeep was moving in between the three trailers, keeping up with the convoy, but constantly having to make adjustments. Rancid didn't even hesitate. He doubled jumped, and landed atop the jeep, barely keeping his feet. The giant Hellion looked impressed, but his reward was a hail of plasma shots. Five shots were fired...five shots missed as the jeep maneuvered forward. Rancid managed to fire another round, but it only struck him in the thigh pad, leaving him uninjured. The Hellion moved onto the door, took aim, and squeezed the trigger...and this time HIS weapon fizzled. Rancid fired quickly, and the giant man ducked back inside. Rancid switched clips, dropping the empty one, locking the last one in as he got ready to jump back to the weapons trailer. But the jeep moved too quickly, and as he jumped, the vehicle jerked, and his pistol was destroyed as it hit the desert floor. Rancid landed hard on the side door, and looked up, seeing the hellion charging him with a shield cannon, a small green charge on the end. He kicked his feet out, catching the man in the gut, knocking him backwards. Rancid leapt to his feet, and charged forward in desperation. Somehow, got a good grip on the riot control device, and a struggle ensued. The two men kicked and punched and head butted each other, neither letting go. They struggled and struggled, until finally, after several boots in his knee, Trax had to drop the cannon, the pain to much for him to bear. Rancid however, knew he was short for time, and got up, running to the switch for the missiles. He held it down and they slowly began to move forward....and then they were sliding sideways onto the trailer. Rancid released the switch, and watched as the trailer pulled away. He charged the shield cannon, and moved toward the hellion. The giant man was on his knees, valiantly trying to stand. Rancid put the weapon mere inches from his face, and released the charge. Had he been a centimeter closer...he would have killed him. Rancid dropped the weapon, and moved slowly to the opposite side door. He then leapt to the jeep, banged twice on its hatch, and they pulled away, victorious, leaving the smoking convoy behind forever.