Gears of War: Mansion.
Outskirts of Ephyra, 1900 hours.
Mortar and brick fragments crumbled to the unkempt ground as Ramirez slammed into the cover of the South-West corner of the ramshackle mansion.
Pain coursed up her side as her ribs protested the impact and she ground her teeth together, swallowing the urge to cry out and focussed on the task ahead of her.
Behind her, on the North-facing side of the house, she could hear the muffled roar of a Lancer being discharged in long bursts: panic fire by Baird trying to suppress the advancing Locust?
Peering around the corner, she made sure there were no nearby enemies and leaned back into cover before pressing her earpiece.
"Ramirez to Control: what's the hold up on that chopper, Mathieson? Our thirty minutes have been and gone."
"Cargo Ravens aren't quite as fast as the regular variety, Sergeant," Mathieson said evenly. An experienced operator, he was used to the frustrations and impatience of frontline troops, aware that it was all part of the rigours of combat. "In a bizarre turn of events, I do have some good news though."
"The grubs are pulling out?"
"I said good, not miraculous," Mathieson returned dryly. "There's a functioning Hammer satellite coming into position over your location so I can get an exact fix on the Raven."
"Great," Ramirez muttered despondently. "Now if only we had a laser designator."
"There! KR three-eight-seven is a little under fifteen miles out from your position. Ten minutes max."
"Roger that," Ramirez acknowledged gripping her Gorgon with both hands again. "Better tell them to come in hot, we're knee deep in assholes here."
"Oh, they're well aware," Mathieson affirmed.
"Stay on the line, Mathieson," the sniper said her mind racing. "I think you can help me with spotting again."
"Of course."
Ramirez switched to the squad channel. "Baird, do you copy?"
"Corporal Baird isn't in right now but if you'd like to leave a message at the scream he-"
"Stow it, Baird," Ramirez cut in. "Have you got a fix on your snipers?"
Another prolonged burst of gunfire.
"Hang on," Baird sounded breathless, she heard metal hurriedly brushing against metal as he reloaded. "North-West of my position."
"Okay," Ramirez did some quick mental arithmetic. "Sit tight."
"Are you kidding me?!" Ramirez could hear the Locust returning fire over the comms behind Baird's shrill exclamation. "I'm sitting so tight I could crack walnuts with my asshole!"
The sniper barely heard him. She ran in a crouch from the cover of the mansion diagonally, sliding behind the refuge of the moss shrouded stone bench that the Locust had used as cover to fire on her what seemed like a lifetime earlier.
Waiting for a lull in the fire to the North West of her position, Ramirez holstered the Gorgon and shrugged her sniper rifle from her back, waiting for her moment.
In the great hall, Cole crawled on his elbows to the edge of the semi-circular landing ignoring the stench of stale rotting carpet. He peered through the splintered remains of the railing down into the ground floor of the hall.
Great clouds of dust, the last remaining resident of the property (and permeating the very fabric of it), swirled and rolled in the fading light. Through the murk, some fifteen or so feet below him, Cole could make out something on the floor: an indistinct tangled form.
The battleground was in the grip of dusk now, the sun having slipped below the war-ravaged horizon, and in the hall a deep gloom was setting in, swallowing the features of the people, creatures and objects in the hall and enveloping the structure in a growing darkness.
Reflective particles of dust in the upper reaches of the ruined reception area glimmered dully in the afterglow of the sun's departure and through them Cole saw the tangled mass below him move clumsily.
Getting to his feet and wincing as his head wound protested the exertion, Cole trained his Lancer on the twitching form and made his way down the stairs to the ground floor.
As he approached the form on the ground floor, the big man could hear shallow gasps of breath and the occasional drawn out moan. Finally he could make out the pale skin of the Grenadier in the gloom.
Sprawled face down on the debris-strewn floor, the creature was unmoving and Cole could see a dark jagged shape protruding from the centre of its spinal column, the exposed edges of the fragment gleaming wetly.
A bone-rattling cough wheezed from the far side of the Locust and a bolt of adrenaline shot through Cole, his aim snapping to the source of the noise.
Amid the sound of debris being disturbed, Rictor sat up slowly, reaching a hand out in a placatory fashion as another violent cough convulsed through his body.
Cole relaxed instantly, kneeling next to the older man and grabbing his hand to steady him. Looking over at the Locust corpse, he recognised the jagged shape in its back as the broken bayonet from Rictor's Lancer.
"Did you charge that grub?" Cole asked, a look of incredulity pinching his features.
"I was outta bullets," Rictor gasped.
The big man stood, easily hauling Rictor to his feet.
"You realise you have a big-ass shotgun on your back and a pistol?"
"You know, I clean forgot about them," Rictor wheezed thoughtfully.
"Crazy motherfucker," Cole shook his head slowly, his grin almost glowing with admiration.
"Yeah, I'm a regular Section Eight," Rictor gave another cough. "How are we doing?"
"Jo's helping Baird with his sniper problem. I don't know how the rookie is. No sign of the Raven yet."
Rictor retrieved his battered rifle from the floor, ejected the empty magazine and inserted a full one.
"It's gotta be close. Check this bastard for grenades," the Captain toed the corpse next to Cole. "Rictor to Ramirez and Baird: form up in the servants quarters. Cole and I will rendezvous with you and we'll fall back with Schoenick to the LZ."
Baird heard Rictor's orders, heard Ramirez acknowledge them but didn't have time to comment. He was too busy reloading, sweating and soiling himself. In that order.
Despite his best efforts, some of the grubs had made it as far as the ruined rear kitchen wall, giving them the advantage of cover that could potentially allow them to move round and flank his position out of his line of sight.
The mechanic was in the cover of the doorway of the servants quarters, leaning into the hallway leading from the kitchen when he needed to reload or avoid getting killed. He had managed to drag the damaged bed over Schoenick's prone body which would protect him to a certain extent but another grenade would finish them both off.
Baird chambered a round from the fresh mag and peered to his left. Seeing movement, he quickly sighted and fired a long stream of bullets, the first of which knocked a Drone back out of cover while the rest sent it toppling into the long grass.
"Fuck you," Baird breathed, turning to his right and looking up the hallway through the remains of the door to the kitchen.
Suddenly, the door burst open as several shots connected with it and slammed it wide. As the ruined hinged barrier bounced off the wall and quickly began closing again, Baird spotted the glimmer of the Sniper's scope again and retreated into the door frame, trying to make himself as small as possible.
He was barely in cover when the telltale report of the Longshot sounded and he felt the heat from the slug as it passed within inches of his head and blasted a chunk of wood out of the door leading in to the great hall.
Cleated boots landed on the filthy tiled kitchen floor behind him and to his left. The sound was small, almost innocuous compared to that of the sniper rifle, but it elicited a further rush of panic from the mechanic.
Baird crouched low and leaned out from the door frame, unloading into the Cyclops and watching with satisfaction as its doubled-up form was sent crashing into a dilapidated cupboard.
He swung back into cover and loaded the last of the Lancer ammunition he had taken from Schoenick. And we're back to soiling ourselves.
"I swear, Ramirez, if this is your idea of a jokeā¦" Baird muttered. He steeled himself for a few seconds and then inched his head out to his right.
And straight in to the sights of the Locust Sniper and his Bolter spotter.
It occurred to Baird that, as last thoughts go, 'well that was fucking dumb' wouldn't be chronicled in the annals of fame any time soon. More likely crudely scrawled in the mess hall toilets.
Then there was the sound of shattering glass from Baird's left and almost instantaneously the Sniper's head burst.
The Sniper and the Bolter had hung back at the periphery of the overgrown garden, letting the other Locust infantry pin Baird down while they camped out behind a section of broken wall to the left of the archway where the gate had used to hang. This meant that Baird had the spectacular backdrop of the burning tree line to watch the Sniper's last moments in grisly detail.
There was an audible 'crack' as the grub's skull split apart, followed by a splash of dark glutinous liquid that doused the Bolter in it's cohorts brains.
The Bolter, clearly shocked, turned in almost comical fashion to the remains of it's colleague, whose body was still upright and aiming at Baird for a few moments before slumping to one side.
The remaining grub turned slowly back to Baird and raised it's pistol just as it's face exploded in a torrent of blood and bone fragments and the momentum of Ramirez' second shot drove the corpse backwards out of sight.
Baird fell back into cover, taking great gulps of air and glancing over at the ruined window to his left that the sniper rounds had shattered.
"You call me 'sweetheart' again, Baird, and the next round goes between the lenses of those precious goggles of yours."
Ramirez' tone was professional, perfunctory. Merely stating a fact.
"Um, okay," Baird replied weakly, any retaliatory remarks drowned out by relief. "Thanks."
"You got any smoke grenades?"
The sound of the Longshot being reloaded in the background.
"No but Schoenick does."
"Pop one and we can bang out of this shithole. Ramirez to Rictor; sniper's down, this is as good a chance as you'll get to pull out Schoenick."
Cole and Rictor had held back in cover when the grub Sniper's bullet had torn through the door leading from the main hall to the rear of the mansion and the kitchen. Stacking either side of the partially destroyed door, they heard Ramirez' 'all clear' and Cole moved forward into the hallway, sweeping quickly but deliberately.
Seeing movement through the kitchen door, Cole loosed a burst of fire at grubs hiding behind the rear wall as he drew level with the servants quarters doorway.
A tap on his shoulder meant that Rictor was behind him and he moved into the room proper as the Captain took up his previous position, continuing to suppress the grubs behind the wall.
The big man saw his friend stooped low over the unconscious form of Schoenick before he turned towards him, a freshly liberated smoke grenade in his hand.
Again, movement from his right caught his attention and Cole spun clockwise, firing on a drone rushing through the tall grass to get in position behind the kitchen wall. He winged the creature and it whirled to the ground as Baird's smoke grenade bounced into Cole's line of sight, a vivid white plume of smoke billowing behind it.
The canister rolled to the edge of the kitchen coming to a rest under the sink before becoming quickly lost from sight in the increasingly dense smoke it was releasing.
As the white cloud rapidly grew in size, obscuring Alpha from the oncoming Horde, Cole was able to look at Baird again; face dirty and bleeding, armour blackened and dusty. Cole tasted blood, sweat and dirt as he licked his dry lips and supposed he probably looked just as bad.
"You took your time," Baird frowned, shoving the bed off of Schoenick.
"Who'd you think was killing all these mean old monsters so we could save your skinny ass?"
"Whatever."
"Haul ass, ladies," Rictor interjected, firing another volley into the smoke. "That chopper ain't gonna wait for another one of your romantic interludes!"
As the older man bristled at his subordinates, a new sound cut through the smoke and intermittent enemy fire; short, regular bursts of bullets.
"Ramirez, sound off!"
"Still at the North-West corner," the sniper's transmission was broken up by another two bursts of fire. "I've got a pretty good angle here, I think I can slow them down. Grab Schoenick and move!"
"Roger that. Wait sixty and then fall back to the front of the mansion."
"Yeah."
"Jo, that's not a request," Rictor said tersely.
"I know."
"Speaking of 'romantic interludes'," Baird accused.
"Stick your mouth in neutral, Corporal," Rictor gestured to Cole who threw him the frag grenade he'd taken from the deceased Grenadier in the main hall. "We're leaving."
Cole slung his Lancer and picked up Schoenick gingerly, cradling his body in his massive arms and moving as quickly as he dared past Rictor along the corridor towards the main hall.
Rictor waved Baird past him before he activated the proximity sensor on the grenade and planted it on the wall next to the servants quarters doorway. Raising his Lancer, he moved steadily backwards covering the rear as the grenade emitted a shrill beep and a red telltale lit up on its spiked core.
Cole was already on the other side of the hall, effortlessly bearing the dead weight of Schoenick, by the time Rictor entered it. Baird's Hammerburst (Schoenick's Lancer was slung across his back) was raised to what remained of the first floor balcony, checking for enemies.
The sound of Ramirez' Gorgon pistol discharges had been growing fainter as the trio retreated through the mansion and then they stopped all together.
Rictor stopped, about to press his earpiece when the building shuddered and he was almost forced from his feet.
Dirt, dust and plaster rained down from the ceiling and some of the first floor front windows buckled and shattered, falling to the floor as Cole and Baird took shelter in the front corridor.
"Oh, boys," Ramirez warned. "The grubs have themselves some reinforcements!"
Rictor felt a familiar regular tremor in the soles of his boots.
"Shit. Boomers," Rictor whispered. "Get outta there!"
"Way ahead of you!"
Rictor broke into a run, signalling for the others to match him.
As they got to the front door and kicked it open, another blast rocked the building and the main hall door leading to the kitchen flew from its hinges, propelled into the hall by a gout of flame as the tagged grenade exploded.
Rictor, Cole and Baird looked dumbly at the explosion and blossoming cloud of debris for a few seconds, fatigue gnawing at their bones. As they stared at the destruction, the keening wail of breaking wood rumbled from the bowels of the great house, rising in pitch until it was matched only by the ferocious sound of stone being rent asunder and the first floor of the mansion gave way.
The three dived out of the front door amid a voluminous jet of dust and debris, tumbling down the front steps to a halt in the overgrown front grounds.
"That oughta slow 'em down," Cole coughed.
"You'd think," Baird wheezed wryly.
Ramirez rounded the corner, changing magazines on the fly. Spotting the men of Alpha sprawled on the overgrown drive, she sprinted to them as fast as her injuries would allow.
Baird was first on his feet.
"Lovely place. Real fixer-upper," he thumbed towards the mansion.
Ramirez crouched over Schoenick's body, checking for vital signs.
"He's still got a pulse," she said, fingertips placed on the rookie's neck.
"Fantastic," Baird said impassively. "Where did Ernie go down?"
"What?" Ramirez looked up, confused.
Baird bent over her, addressing her as he would a child.
"The bot. Where did it crash?"
The sniper stood, eyeing Baird sceptically.
"Really?"
Baird stared back at her, a half-sneer spreading across his lips.
Ramirez gestured to the South-West wall of the front garden, the sting of her sweat aggravating the minor lacerations on her face only helping to accentuate her ferocious scowl, and Baird made off in that direction.
Rictor clambered to his feet, staring at the back of the retreating Corporal.
"I'd act surprised but I just don't have the energy for futile gestures," Rictor groaned.
Ramirez shook her head as she helped Cole pick up Schoenick again.
"Baird, death and the damned Locust are the only constants in this war."
As they made their way through the thigh-high grass down the driveway, there was a subtle pop as another party joined their squad channel.
"You guys encounter some local colour?"
Rictor looked up in to the dusk sky, looking for signs of a Raven but finding nothing although he could now hear the thunder of rotors growing closer.
"Gettner?"
"None other.
"I am damned glad to hear your voice."
"You're not the first man to say that," the Major replied dryly.
"We're about two minutes away from the LZ," Rictor scanned behind them as they moved down the driveway. "Gettner, we've got Boomers on our six."
The roar of helicopter blades had been getting steadily louder as they spoke and suddenly the thick black column of smoke from the derelict traffic explosion parted like thick velvet curtains, giving Alpha their first glimpse of their ride home.
The Cargo Raven bore the same fuselage and cabin as a standard King Raven but terminated abruptly where the cabin would normally taper into the tail boom. Instead, a slender boom extended spine-like from underneath the cowling of the main rotor assembly and extended to the rear of the vehicle forming the rear twin elevator array. Towards the rear of the Raven, half way along the 'spine' of the chopper, slender support pylons bearing wheels extended downwards to give the longer body support and a complicated system of pulleys and winches was attached to the boom in order to pick up cargo.
"Well, Barber's got a door gun he's being dying to introduce to some grubs today."
Rictor saw Gettner's crew chief, Nat Barber, manning the aforementioned gun, sweeping it left and right at the area behind Alpha.
"Change of plan, Alpha," the downdraft from the whirring rotors whipped the long grass around the Gears into a frenzy as the chopper got closer to the ground. "This bird's got a mean thirst and handles like an assault derrick. I'm setting down in that field to the South of you instead of the LZ."
The trio limped towards the front gates; Ramirez on point, Cole cradling Schoenick in the middle and Rictor bringing up the rear.
The Raven jinked further away from Alpha, the chrome fuselage glowing from the reflection of the burning car wrecks like molten metal, Barber training the gun on the mansion while the chopper hovered over the field before landing somewhat inelegantly.
"Gettner, we need to hold on for Baird! He's retrieving our bot," Rictor barked.
"That's funny, Captain, it sounded like you were demanding that we wait and yet I'm reliably informed by Control that you are fully aware that our dicking around time on this sortie is exactly zero," Gettner replied icily.
"Gettner-"
"Get your tired old ass on the deck of my chopper, Rictor. Or the only thing going home tonight is that shitty old 'Dill you left back down the road!"
"BOOM!"
Rictor whipped around as a grenade round sailed overhead and impacted on the already burning skeleton of a car on the far side of the road. The wreck spun into the grass of the field that the Cargo Raven had landed in behind the veteran as he saw a Boomer stride its way out from behind the demolished mansion.
Twice the height of a regular grub and three times as broad, the massive Locust were fearsome enough in close encounters but frequently carried the heavy weapons of the Horde making them devastating at range also.
There was a burst of gunfire behind him, accompanied by the shriek of rending metal and Rictor realised that Ramirez had shot out the chain securing the main gate.
Kicking the rusted gates apart, Ramirez beckoned Cole and Rictor through.
Rictor's brain frantically ran through the options; realising that his old Lancer wouldn't have the accuracy to hit even a target the size of a Boomer at this distance and that Barber couldn't get line of sight because of the garden wall and the myriad derelict vehicles, he signalled to Cole.
"Trade places!"
The big man immediately set Schoenick on his feet as he cleared the discoloured gates, supporting him as Ramirez took one of the rookie's arms and placed it around her shoulders. Cole unslung his Lancer as Rictor took Schoenick's other arm and he and Ramirez started navigating through the abandoned vehicles to the other side of the road.
Cole fired a short burst that glanced off the massive Locust' shoulder pauldron as it reloaded on the move. It roared it's disapproval but was not slowed in the slightest, slamming a fresh drum magazine of grenades home and bringing the Boom Shot to bear.
The thrashball player dived to the ground behind the stone wall as the archway crumbled to the ground in a deluge of fire and smoke. He crouched and moved on his haunches along the wall, moving slowly farther away from the ruined gate, until he found a gap in it and aimed at the Boomer.
Cole aimed low and squeezed, letting the rifle's recoil raise his aim up the grub's body towards the Boomers head.
A bullet tore a ragged bloody welt along the top of the Boomers skull and the creature staggered, stopping its pursuit of Alpha. It raised a massive hand to its wound and stared dumbly at the blood on its fingers before snarling in Cole's direction.
"Ohshitohshitohshitohshitohshitohshitohshit!"
Cole looked to his left as the sprinting figure of Baird burst out of the tall grass behind the South-West corner of the wall. The mechanic gripped the battered carapace of Ernie tightly as it streamed smoke and sparks behind him. As Baird disappeared out of sight behind the flaming wreckage caused by the earlier explosion, Cole saw bullets tearing chunks out of the asphalt and terminating in showers of light in the carcases of the traffic wrecks.
"Gentlemen! The helicopter taking off is your cue to get your shit in gear," Gettner cajoled angrily.
Cole fired another burst of rounds at the Boomer before disappearing into the narrow gaps between the ruined cars in the direction of the Raven.
Up ahead of him, the Raven hovered a good four of five feet above the ground. Rictor and Ramirez were in the cabin having strapped the unconscious Schoenick into one of the fore bucket seats.
There was another explosion behind him but Cole didn't turn round, even as he felt a wall of heat radiate behind him. He was focused on the chopper, sprinting powerfully for it just as he had done to the score zone so many times at the Cougar's stadium in Hanover.
As he cleared the last of the wrecked cars and made it out into the open field, Baird joined him at his right, clutching Ernie's charred remains to his chest like his firstborn. The bot's arms bounced rhythmically in time with Baird's pumping legs, giving the impression that the now lifeless mechanical was waving for help.
Cole couldn't even manage a grin.
The pair reached the chopper simultaneously, fighting their way through the vicious downdraft and arriving as the deck of the cabin hung at about head height off of the ground.
Baird slid Ernie onto the deck as Rictor grabbed his still outreached hand. The Captain helped him on board, pausing just as Baird was precariously balanced with one foot on the deck to deliver a meaningful glance before pulling him into the cabin.
"A little help!" gasped Ramirez to his right, struggling with Cole's massive bulk.
Rictor and the sniper took an arm each and pulled Cole onto the deck before falling back into the cabin with him.
The Raven dropped suddenly, suspending Alpha's collective stomachs in zero gravity for a heartbeat.
"Hold on to your rations, Alpha," Barber called knowingly over his shoulder.
The engine above their heads gave a throaty rumble and the ungainly aircraft rose steadily into the air.
As they gained altitude, Rictor could see clearly see the disarray of the scattered abandoned vehicles, re-emphasised by the Boomer's recent efforts to eliminate Cole. Higher still, and he saw the Boomer itself as it approached a ruined section of the wall and raised it's grenade launcher at them.
Suddenly, there was a loud whirring of countless well-greased parts interlocking and feeding, and Barber opened up with the door gun. The whirring was drowned out by a low-pitched bass-filled drone that vibrated throughout the cabin and a stream of light armour piercing bullets screamed towards the Boomer.
Bullet hits chewed up great chunks of asphalt as the gun carved a path toward the massive Locust. The all ready fatigued metal of the derelict vehicles buckled and shattered under the sheer concentration of fire. The section of stone wall the Boomer was located behind disappeared in a flurry of dust and debris as the gun stitched round after round up it and into the bloated torso of the grub. Explosions of red erupted up the length of it's midriff culminating in the complete dissolution of it's skull in a matter of seconds.
The corpse, which had been reduced to so much shuddering red meat, pitched backward into the untended garden before Barber turned his attention to the Locust infantry that had been pursuing Baird. The door gun spat death again, dismembering and destroying the handful of grubs that had not had the opportunity or good sense to flee.
Rictor noticed a distinct nebulous dark red mist hung in the air where the Locust had been standing mere moments ago.
"All right, boys and girl," Gettner called out over her shoulder as the whirring of the door gun gradually ground to a halt and the Raven lurched higher into the air. "Next stop Jacinto City via a pit-stop in scenic Middle-Of-Nowhere. Rictor, you want me to call it in?"
The veteran turned his head and regarded her silently for some moments.
Gettner's hawkish features and fluttering short hair were washed in red light from the cockpit instrumentation. Her ever-present comms headset (for the life of him, Rictor couldn't picture her without it although he'd seen her in the mess on frequent occasions) framed her face, the mic covering her narrow caustic mouth but her eyes spoke volumes.
An experienced pilot (the highest ranking one left in the COG air corps) who'd seen a world of atrocity, she didn't say another word or offer any platitudes. That wasn't her style but Rictor knew exactly what she was thinking.
You guys look like hammered shit.
As he looked around his bloody and dishevelled squad, he couldn't fail to agree.
"No," he shouted over the din of the rotors overhead. "I've got this."
While Barber removed a first aid kit from fittings on a nearby bulkhead and looked over Schoenick, Rictor keyed the comms channel for Control.
"Control, this is Alpha Four. Put me through to Colonel Hoffman."
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