A/N:
God And The Snake: So did I. Damned writer's block :S
ELMO-fAN cLUB MeMbER: In post-apocalypse, they are, although most law enforcement forces frown upon that kind of philosophy…
This will be most of the task force's first mission, our first use of our armored force and the first time we'll use all three Vertibirds in a single operation, all that under my command and responsibility.
Let's just say I'm sweating rivers up here in the Sherman's turret.
I undo the straps of my chest plate and tie it up on the side of the tank, welcoming the wind as it slaps in my face.
We're eighteen meters above ground, treads sitting on a large steel plate hooked with four chains, themselves fastened to the cruiser's crane.
The motor pool calls that an elevator. I call it suicide machine with extra rust.
At least the view lets me check out the terrain before the op.
And this slow ass elevator gives me ample time to take notes; We're two kilometers away from the bunker, yet I can still see it from here, so I just peek trough my binoculars and verify the scout team's report.
5x Sentry bots? I see two near the vault-like entrance and three in a delta formation a dozen meters further.
6x Gutsy? I count four on the left and five on the right… Nice counting, scout boys.
18x Protectrons? Fuck that, I'll take their word on it.
8x Brainbots? Can't spot a single one, not good.
Vertibird One passes right next to us, shaking our platform and earning very colorful curses from the driver and gunner.
"Having fun, Diana?" Lieutenant Commander Lorn laughs over the radio.
Lorn, as it turns out, was one of the most experienced pilot of the Enclave and is, in fact, First Airborne's highest ranked member, although he usually defers to Darling when it comes to field decisions.
I learned that today. Can't know everything, now, can I?
The Sarge laughs over the comm. and does a barrel roll with her bird. She's in a good mood today. Sergeant Fox and his men, Vertiassault team Charlie, probably aren't, however.
Our platform finally touches down and we roll up next to the APC, taking the lead of our small convoy.
My gunner, a former Legionary, shakes his shoulders and loads a round in the .50 CAL machine gun.
The guy is built like a truck and barely ever talks. Leland says his squad found him crucified near a Legion camp and offered him a shot at revenge. They only received a nod…
And he cleared that whole camp pretty much single handedly…
After that, it became SOP to 'recruit' anyone we spot tacked to a 2x4. We actually created a unit just for them, jokingly called 'the Foreign Legion', which, from now on, we'll use as a temporary assignment for any new recruit; they get leather armor, Chinese pistols, sawed off shotguns, old repeater rifles kitchen knives and hunting rifles and must survive two missions to the frontline as cannon fodders before we give them real training and equipment. Keep us from wasting time and gear on spies, softies and thieves.
I Put my armor plate back on and pick up a Type 98H machine gun from the side of the turret, securing it with a pre-installed bipod. I need to kneel in my turret if I want to aim down the sights and can only hit stuff in front of the tank, but that also means the gunner doesn't have to be afraid he'll hit my head while swiveling around.
Now I just have to wait…
Most notable recruits of the Foreign Legion are members of a 'tribe' called the Scorched People, all Ghouls, all former police officers. As such, they were allowed to keep their uniforms, flak jackets and weapons, as well as their ranks, which mean I have twelve new Sergeants, two Lieutenants and one Captain, a woman named Serena Vasquez and a pure genius of urban warfare. She led the Scorched People through the remains of their town for two hundred years and kept the other habitants safe until the Legion decided to wipe them out, two weeks ago. Didn't go so well.
As soon as they're done with the Foreign Legion, I plan on making them the battalion's military police and peace keeping force.
Since most of the boys under my command only have experience in offensive operations, our actual defense capabilities are still somewhat lacking.
The tank ascends one last mound of dirt and we are officially on the battlefield.
The Legionnaire is the first to open fire, but I am quick to follow and so is the main gunner.
Two seconds into the fight and five protectrons as well as two Gutsy are out of action.
To the left, Lyon's Pride deactivate their stealth boys and step into the fray, Kodiak and Glade packing so much firepower they could have taken this bunker by themselves, while behind us, Ranger Group two is deploying around the APC.
They finished their training just last week, so that'll be their first combat encounter, same as First Airborne's Charlie squad.
"All units, focus fire on the Sentry bots!" I order over the radio, "Clear the way for the Vertibirds!"
The tank's turret swivels to follow a sentry's path, while the frontal machine gun pelts the thing's armor.
Next to me, the .50 CAL is firing with a sound close to that of someone chucking wood. The air displacement from the shots is causing pressure in my ears, like I get when the Eagles suddenly climb a few hundred meters.
Behind the tanks and to the right, the Rangers are opening up with their Type 98K Chinese assault rifles while all around us, cloaked figures fire their .308 rifles.
I read somewhere that war isn't hell, war is loud as hell. Guess I just realized how true that is.
It doesn't help that our three Vertibirds then swing in low and hover into place while their cargo fast ropes down.
There's two regular merc squads, one Verti-assault team and one Foreign Legion platoon, twenty two soldiers in total, dropping right in front of the depot's door and quickly fanning out from there.
Well, the mercs and Assault teams do. The Legionnaires just scramble around, firing at pretty much anything that looks mechanical…
Their armor is damn near useless against the machines' heavy firepower, so half of them get slaughtered within the first deployment stage. The rest quickly learn to use cover.
A ranger yells something about being hit and Lyons reports hostiles on our six. The brainbots.
The tank's turret swirls around to face the newcomers , which gives me a clear shot on the cluster of advanced machines.
I pepper them with 5.56 rounds for about four seconds before having my fun cut short by the tank's main gun.
"Confirmed hit!" I holler, "Targets disabled; advance!"
Ahead and a little to the left, I spot two legionnaires with their face in the dirt and surrounded by at least three protectrons and a gutsy. They are both wounded and the robots keep scoring grazing hits, slowly tearing both kids apart.
They're not TCs yet, but they're still fighting for us, so they are entitled to the same loyalty, I think.
Plus, they're still holding their own despite bad burns and inferior number. I like that.
The 98K comes loose with a jerk and, a second later, my boots kick up a cloud of sand quickly lost in the one the tank is spitting.
Twenty meters ahead, the kids are getting ready for the finishing blow as the robots are finally on top of them. They must know each others somehow, because they are holding hands.
So fucking cute…
I can run twenty meters in five seconds, seven with my gear, and can kill one thing per second.
The Chinese weapon spits its first volley in the nearest protectron's 'head', ending its ramble about the use of lethal force.
Next, I bring down on of the gutsy, earning the group of robots' undivided attention.
A laser bolt hisses next to my shoulder, further burning my old armor. The responding burst doesn't sizzle or fizzle or anything. It does what ballistic weapons have been doing for four hundred years; it screams, hammers and then it kills.
A plasma shot splashes on my chest, boiling the metal, but the armor was hardened by Donovan and that guy knows his shit, so the angry red spot on my chest quickly takes a silver shade and I give the gutsy an early retirement with a 5.56 parting bonus .
A protectron's beam grazes my balaclava just over the right cheek, causing a slight burn, quickly followed by the smell of burnt meat.
After that, I'm close enough to finish the job the way I like it; with my bare fucking hands.
Two protectrons standing on both sides of the legionnaires smoking bodies, close enough to step on them. I spin my weapon in the air and catch it by the cannon.
First 'bot has its dome clubbed twice, smashing pretty much every sensorial devices of the machine.
While it fumbles around, I 'golf club' the legs of my second enemy, fucking up its balance, and after it hits the ground, I smash it until its chest casing cracks open, allowing me to rip out the fission battery.
Then, I just get back up, dust my armor and execute the blinded protectron with a .44 round to the processor from my brand new colt 1911.
I then kneel next to my fallen troops and check them both for pulse.
Frederick Ross was not much of a tech head and much less of a mechanist, but as he sat in the flying machine's troop bay with Master Sergeant Phips yelling the inner workings of the M7 bolt action Marksman Rifle, and the M11 lever action rifle, he made very sure he understood everything.
"The M7 has a clip while the M11 must have each bullets put into the tube separately. The tube is at the tip of the rifle and can accommodate ten rounds. You must pull the bolt on the M7 and crank the lever of the M11 after every shot. The M7 is a marksman rifle, so use it for long range kills, the M11 can attain a much greater rate of fire; use it for suppression.
Freddy had not enlisted because he was a brutal guy, but only because Talon Company offered him an opportunity to get the hell away from the town he grew up in and his dumbass family.
His childhood friend, Natalie Burton, was also in that Vertibird, clutching her lever action rifle like it was a teddy bear.
"Alright, kiddos!" The sarge suddenly yelled as the lighting in the troop bay went from red to green, "Stow your shit and get ready, we're fast roping this one! For you new recruits, the concept is simple; the harder you squeeze, the slower the descent! Now move it!" And with that, he punched the door open.
First out was a talon merc with a shotgun attached to his R91. Once he was out of sight, the Phips shoved another merc trough the door, this one carrying an R91 DMR variant.
Freddy was not exactly eager for his turn to come, so he left pretty much everyone pass before him and soon ended next to a pale looking mercenary wearing a baseball cap, sunglasses and with a tiger tattoo on his forearm.
"Nervous?" The man asked, his voice harsh and dry.
"A bit…"
"Don't worry, we have your back; just don't fuck up."
He really didn't know what to answer to that.
Natalie gave him a scared look as her turn at the rope came and he just smiled reassuringly.
"Hey, kid." The pale man called from behind him, "Don't let her distract you down there or you'll both get killed."
With that, Freddy was shoved down the rope and straight into battle.
It was really like landing in hell. The heat down there was much worst than inside the bird and the whole place reeked of gunpowder and burnt meat.
He spotter a robot ahead and racked the bolt of his rifle before firing it.
The kick hurt his chest and the shot missed entirely, but the machine still exploded.
Freddy didn't know what a tank was and most certainly had never seen one, but fucking hell was he glad the gun and armor platform was on his side.
Someone forced him to the ground just as something exploded nearby and he ended up in a crater, on his back next to a TC Corporal.
"Heya!" The merc yelled, extending his gloved hand. "I'm Tim!"
"Freddy!" Ross answered over the surrounding chaos.
"Pleasure to meet you!" They shook hands and Tim reloaded his Shotgun before talking again, "Listen, Freddy," His voice was tearing trough the fog on Ross' mind like a blade trough fabric. "I got a twenty five mike mike here and need someone to use it here while I toss frags way out there, carpet the area and all that. Think you're up for it?"
Freddy just nodded and Tim tossed him the shotgun.
That was a 25 mike mike? How was he supposed to use it? Before he could ask, however, Tim got up and sprinted across the battlefield, almost instantly replaced by a girl.
Natalie.
"Where the heck were you?" She yelled, her eyes wide and scared "Where did you get that?" She quickly added, talking about the shotgun or whatever it was.
He just shook his head and took aim at a nearby flying robot.
The weapon emitted an hollow 'Thump' and rocked upward. A split second later, the machine was engulfed in flames and shrapnel.
The scorched machine swiftly turned to him and fired a plasma bolt square on his left hand, turning it into a smoking stump.
He fired again with his remaining hand, but couldn't see the result as a laser beam then pierced his chest just under his sternum, quickly followed by another one in his right shoulder.
He slumped to the ground, feeling cold and numb while his friend screamed his name.
Natalie had enough time to empty her rifle before she was hit too, in the leg.
She crawled next to him and drew her ridiculous Chinese gun.
He did the same, earning a searing pain in his shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Freddy." Natalie breathed, "I should never have brought you into this.
He tried to tell her he would have joined anyway, but his lungs were filling up with blood so he just took her hand…
She screamed. A beam had drilled right trough her shoulder, just over her heart.
Freddy somehow managed to empty his clip in the protectron's face before his arm fell back to the ground, now totally devoid of life. He knew the rest of his body would follow soon and only hoped his friend would survive.
Fuck TC! They said they were always there for their troops, that working for them was nothing like regular armies. All bullshit! He was fucking dying and no one was doing shit about it!
Next to him, Natalie Fired her pistol as well and looked at him.
"Don't go before me…" She cried and he just smiled, exactly like back in the bird.
"Don't worry, I couldn't stand to spend one minute without you…" It didn't come out, however, so he just hugged her and looked into her beautiful eyes.
They were a gold-brown with green stripes near the center, like blades of grass in a barley field. He had never really noticed how pretty they were and wished he could tell her. Damn, he just wished he could look at them just a few minutes longer.
He barely gasped as another beam grazed his waist
They could hear the robots coming closer now. It would be over soon…
"Use of lethal force… "*Bang!* A shower of sparks rained on the two recruits, so they looked up.
A dark figure was advancing trough the battlefield, mowing down robots like they were just radroaches.
One of the machine did land a hit, but the figure didn't even flinch and continued the massacre until it was right next to them. Then, it smashed both protectrons with its rifle and finished the job with a pistol.
The man wore a balaclava and tactical goggles, but as he prodded his neck, Freddy could feel that guy was his complete opposite; a brutal, yet brilliant man, a professional…
Freddy decided that if he made it alive, he'd be just like this guy.
The voice was nothing like he expected. "Hang in there, guys, I ordered your evac on the first bird out of here, we'll patch you up in no time, just don't give up!"
Ross went back to Natalie's eyes. The cold was everywhere now and he was shaking.
She was in no better shape, sweating profusely and pale as a drape.
He stroked her face, holding on with all his will to be sure he'd die after her.
No way he'd leave his only friend behind.
"You remember… When we went to the pond with our fishing rods?"
He nodded and the man next to them sighed before looking trough his pack for something.
"I wish we could go back."
He eyes suddenly went empty and Freddy Ross finally stopped living, grateful that he was granted one more minute with the love of his life.
Alright, this is getting old, let's end this bullshit.
The first thing that stands in my way is a sentry bot.
The stream of 5.56 from my rifle first severs its minigun, then its rocket launcher before hammering its way trough its chest.
Next victim is a protectron that had the misfortune of being in my fucking way.
I think it was one of ours.
My gun click empty and I snatch an old repeater from the ground, downing two more gutsy before having to use my pistol against the last sentry bot.
It clicks empty before I even scrape the thing's painting, so I draw my trench knife and start punching the robot's face.
First hit dents the the armor plate, second one shatters the Plexiglas, third cave the plate in and the fourth creates an opening large enough to stick my knife trough.
The last robot is disabled seventy seconds after the battle started.
I tap my headset. "Area sanitized, send in the techies."
