Veteran Sergeant Mofor dashed with intense speeds that came with years of endurance training in the storm troopers. As he disappeared into the crevice of the nearly closed gate, there was a pair of crimson flashes on the other side. The gates, which were massive panels striped black and cautious yellow, came to a grinding halt before they began to slide away from one another, the light from the exposed ceiling piercing the shadows. Twin puddles of toxic blood mixed with some other unidentifiable fluids that flowed from the ruined stumps of a pair of corpses.
For all the years that I have known Mofor, he's calm and collected manner combined with a confidence drawn from years of experience, is that I have never actually had a moment to see him land the kill with his powersword. The man was simply too fast or concealed before the blows came. As I leveled my hellgun to the right, the guardsmen behind us hurriedly packaged their weapons to follow. We secured the gate and waited for all three teams to cross through.
Mofor turned from the control panel of green and red lights to us and shot nods to Lieutenant Becks and his two Sergeants as they flashed salutes and split ways. Sergeant Kerrin and Becks himself headed north, towards the airstrip where our rendezvous and evacuation was to land in a mere twenty minutes. Sergeant Othloe was with us as Mofor dashed up the metal staircase that was a spiral that connected the tower between us and the other domes.
I glanced at Becks one last time as his team disappeared down the cement floors and opened gates to the north. As the shadows swallowed him and his team, I raised my weapon to the staircase above. With a trained eye, I kept watch for sentinels and enemy units moving in a position to pin us down. At this vantage point, we could have been ambushed and crushed with little way to strike back. And with the uneven staircases, the heavy weapons team with Othloe's boys could not deploy.
Clad in our khaki carapace armor and hefty energy packs, we ascended the staircase with a sense of urgency. Our mission was to allocate the promethium fuel line that ran throughout the base, follow it the center and set our demolition charges to blow.
Cowboy, who was just ahead of me, turned his helmeted head to the glass behind us and paused momentarily. As I caught up, I was aghast at the sight before us.
The pane showed us the civilian sector of the city, where the gothic architecture of the buildings crowded over streets that were choked by tiny figures sprawled through the scene. Bodies were simply stacked on each other to make way for the enemy troopers who marched through wearing gas masks. We realized that in the distance, the mists inside the city were tilted a greenish grey. I glanced up to see the large ducts above systematically dumping tremendous amounts of the colored mixture into the air. The people of the city had all been gassed to death. Trapped in their homes and locked within the northern dome by the enemy.
I felt my body grow cold at the realization of why our orders made sense. A few hours before, during the briefing, I raised question as to why this was an attempt to destroy the city as though it were an enemy base. Command knew what had happened already. They had kept it from us so that we would not give into the very rage that began to heat.
My desire for blood was answered not a moment later when the sound of a trooper above barked an alarm. His haggard voice was silenced by the swift fall of Mofor's powersword and the rush of his boots that clicked the staircases. He drove harder than ever, and both teams charged behind trying desperately to keep up.
As the sentries head bounced down the stairs and slipped below, I felt my legs burn from lack of oxygen. I raised my hellgun despite my exhaustion and squeezed the trigger. My eyes sharp on the pale head in the targeter, I saw a gush of crimson organic manner slap the wall like spilt paint.
Mofor suddenly ceased his charge to throw his back against the wall next to an opening. He raised his hellpistol in his hand and tilted his ear to the wall. Cowboy come up alongside him and kneeled down, flashing his face back a moment to see how far the others were behind him. When I crouched behind my friend, he discharged a grenade round which rebounded the corner of the ceiling and spun into the enemy's nest somewhere down the corridor of piping and wires. There was a sound of fire, men screaming and death reaping its toll. Without a word, I dashed to Cowboy's left and threw myself into a barrel roll to the opposite side of the opening were I crouched low and angled my hellgun down the hall. My targeter fed me data from my gun straight into my helmet, and I unleashed a blast down the way to a pair of figures that huddled the walls in their confusion.
The rest of the team pulled up along side Cowboy and I reached for a grenade. As the pin fell from the stairs, I tossed it as far down the corridor as I could before the primer went and the device set a second detonation to ensure the way was clear.
Immediately, Mofor and I rounded the corner and pumped our way through the corridor, our boots slapped the floors and echoed our footsteps as we desperately sought cover if there were any other enemies in the vicinity and if not, to prepare for the incoming.