Author's Note: Thanks to KATT9033, EQ, and Kit Williams for the reviews.

WANING: If you will recall, waaaaay back at the beginning of all this, I said this story would have some rough depictions in it. Gore and language and so forth. This is another of those chapters.

Enjoy.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Main Staging Area, Rearguard

The enemy was in a semi-organized frenzy. From over a mile away atop his perch on the elevated Highway 289 overpass, Torsch had a largely unobstructed view all the way to the forward battle lines. Behind the fortified wall Ashmund's personnel were jockeying for position. 'Korid caught glimpses of their terrified faces peeping out, hands holding weapons with white-knuckled grips. They flinched as one like flock of birds as distant gunfire from the north was punctuated by explosions.

'Korid pulled out his cartographer and consulted the image. He saw that the North Etienne contingent was already pushing into downtown. To the south, soldiers from Cean were moving in, lead by the large green dot of 'Caaln's Wraith as they took the southern railroad gate. Daniel's team had moved out onto the beach and Dak 'Varlemai's marker had gone dark.

Nodding to himself, Torsch slipped his helm onto his head and pulled the energy rifle from his back as he pressed the relay. He paused for a moment and watched as the vanguard line surged forward at his command. When he looked up warriors across the battlefield movements broke from active camouflage to charge the wall. What had moments before appeared to be a pitiful few hundred humans and scattered Elites became an invading force as hundreds of Sangheili became thousands which became tens of thousands.

The Sangheili easily outran their human counterparts and Ashmund's alarmed troopers began screaming and firing wildly at the advancement in hysteria. Amy's truck, driven by Peach, with an Elite warrior manning the chain gun, barreled forward. The amalgamated 50 cal spooled up and let loose with a barrage of plasma-heated slag as it crashed through the main roadblock.

Torsch redoubled his resolve and walled off the sudden feelings which rose in his hearts at the thought of Amy's name. He had to keep the emotions winnowed down and allow himself to be solely consumed by nothing more than strategic analysis and reaction. The adrenaline in his blood and a lifetime of battle insisted on it.

Stowing his mapping transmitter, the acting Command Master turned to the rearguard warriors around him. They were silent, their anticipation an almost tangible thing as they waited for his command.

Crosette Beach

Daniel's team stepped out of the tunnels into growing darkness. They followed New Saint Etienne's public access beach, keeping close to the backshore and its sandy dunes until they reached the rocky point break. From there it was a hike inland through hip-high dry grass to the sand swept road. By the time they made it beyond the head of the point break and began back down toward the crashing breakers on the other side the night had swallowed them whole.

The stretch of beach north of the point break had once been reserved, mostly for permit-holding surfers or residents of the posh neighborhood whose private stretch of beach abutted it and would provide the team access to the grounds of the governor's mansion.

Amy's knees protested as she jogged through water-logged sand at the shoreline. Waves swept at her feet, erasing the proof of the team's passage. Off to her left Starr could hear the roll and crash of high waves breaking in the trough. Ahead of her, markers indicated the positions of Daniel followed by Kote and Eeth. Vae and Jhett's beacons were out of range as they moved along the road to her right guarding the flank. Allison and Cory were just behind her, the sound of their breathing filling the comms link. Antho was somewhere back there as well, but the dogs were running from the front of the movement where Daniel was to the rear and back again, bounding through the surf. Irregular disturbances in the water's reaching wake gave evidence of them as they splashed by in active camouflage.

It took half an hour to reach the edge of the Upper Graddoux District. A placard secured to a canted t-post let them know they were entering the neighborhood's private beach.

A mile had never seemed so long to run, but when they began passing dark palatial houses lining the shore like monoliths, gunfire popped of in the distance and a surge of adrenaline hastened Amy's steps.

Chatter from Vae and Jhett crackled across the comms and there was the spitting whine of plasma fire across the link between their words. After a few moments of radio silence their markers were seen as they came down from the road to rejoin Daniel's team. The group sprinted for the beginning of a rock retaining wall which would take them to the beachside of the governor's grounds.

The wall rose in increments beside them. It was a cantilever construction, the face decorated to look like natural stone as it ran the line of the coast holding back several hundred tons of fill dirt. This elevated the governor's grounds and allowed the sprawling house to look down on the ocean and surrounding community from a man-made hillock. For Daniel's team, it meant hiking the beach access's narrow stone staircase.

At the top, Amy slipped past Kote and moved next to Daniel. She saw that the mansion itself was set nearly a thousand feet back into the hinterlands. Lights appeared to be on in every room and the glow illuminated a stretch of once manicured lawn grown wild from lack of maintenance and heavily trampled. Through tall windows Amy thought she could see the ghostly silhouettes of people moving to and fro within.

Daniel waited just long enough for the humans to catch their breath. He consulted his cartographer, but before Amy could get a good look the image was deactivated. Stowing the device, Daniel slipped his machete from its sheath and stepped up onto the lawn.

Governor's Mansion

Gilbert Dufraine lay draped across the couch with a satisfied, sleepy expression on his face. His injured leg was propped up on the sofa's cushions, his shirt open in the front and his trousers and belt still undone.

Jolene Krumfelt was across the room with her back to him, silently sniffing away tears as she stood half-naked in the bathroom wetting a washcloth at the sink. Marks on her arms were already turning to bruises and when she looked up Gill could see a wedge of her face in the vanity mirror. There was a split in her eyebrow and the crust of blood where her lip was busted. She winced as she pressed the cloth against her swollen eye.

Snooty bitch, Dufraine thought with a smirk. She had mistakenly thought this was going to be a 'business transaction'. Apparently she'd figured out how to make the most of her situation, trading certain favors for what she needed to live and maintain the illusion of control over her own life.

It turned out that beneath her cowed exterior there had been a bit of fire in her yet. Jolene Krumfelt had failed to understand Gill wasn't just another of Ashmund's lackeys. She had tried to balk at the idea of rendering services in exchange for nothing, and Gill wasn't a man who paid for what he was entitled to. He might have been a gimp, and more than a little drunk, but he was also a trained hitman and Miss Krumfelt had mistaken his current state to mean he couldn't back himself up.

Oh, he'd given her something, alright.

He had had a fantasy burning in his head for days regarding the full lips of one talkative Sergeant First Class Starr that had required tending to. In exchange for playing along and behaving herself, Jolene Krumfelt got away with her teeth still in her head.

Sure, she had tried to walk out at first. And, Gill had proceeded to knock that snob down a peg or three.

Gilbert smirked. Now Jolene had a much better understanding of her real place in the world to go along that nasty black eye.

Dufraine sighed and laced his hands behind his head.

There was a sound like a distant car backfiring. An eruption of harried voices and footfalls stirred out in the hall. Gill cracked one eye and looked at the closed door with a frown. Gunfire chattered away off toward the city and his frown turned into a scowl as Jolene moved from the bathroom. She was holding her blouse over her bosom and pressing the cloth to her eye as she listened to the growing noise.

"Don't just stand there," Gill grunted, "Make yourself useful and see what the hell is going on."

While Jolene shuffled to peep out into the hallway there was a pecking at the French doors.

Gill angled his head just enough to see Donnovan Jones standing out on the deep porch draped in shadow.

"Aw, fuck," Gilbert grumbled.

"It sounds like someone is actually attacking the city," Jolene said as she peered out into the hall, "They've reached the..."

Her words trailed off as Dufraine wrestled a pillow from beneath his leg and lobbed it across the room at her. It hit the door, knocking the heavy wood into the side of her head. "Get the other damned door," he barked.

Jolene crossed the room buttoning her top awkwardly and Gill reached out to swat her backside as she passed. She skirted away with a yelp, cringing.

Gill belted a laugh at her expense and she unlatched the French door to let in the cool night air.

"The fuck you want?" Dufraine drawled as Donnovan took small steps into the room.

Jones didn't answer, not really, and Gill sat up, turning, careful of his leg. The other man was standing just inside at the threshold, his body lightly trembling and his mouth quivering as he made a mumbling "m-m-m-m" sound over and over again.

"Did you fall and hit your head or something, shit-bag?" Gill asked, swinging around a crutch which was leaned against the back of the couch.

He climbed upright but, "M-m-m," was Donny's only reply, his eyes wide and full of fear.

The collar around his neck made a low beeping noise. Jolene flinched and gasped as the device came alive with tiny lights. Donny's body jerked under an increased electric current and Jolene and Gilbert backed away. The piss stain on the front of Donny's jeans crawled wider.

The faintest of shimmers rippled the darkened doorway and the lethal red glitter of an assassin's sword came alive.

"Mother fucker!" Gill hissed, reaching to pull the Magnum from his shoulder holster.

Before he could bring the weapon clear there was a cracking electric pop and the room seemed to flash over with a blue-white brilliance. Gilbert and Jolene were knocked from their feet by the force of the blast. They landed amid a mist of heated blood droplets which speckled the ceiling and settled to pepper the floor and furniture.

"You dumb son-of-a-bitch," Dufraine coughed, crawling behind an overturned armoire for cover. Having lost his handgun he fumbled to jerk a backup from the shaft of his boot, "You led him right to me," he rasped, even as his mind refused to believe what it was piecing together.

That big fucker was dead. Had to be...

Gilbert peeped to see Donny's headless body in an expanding pool of blood as it exsanguinated on the floor. Jolene was groaning several feet away, propped against a wall like a forgotten toy. Donnovan's head was in her lap like an open melon, covering her in blood and brain matter.

Gill ducked down when the unmistakable figure of Dak 'Varlemai stepped out of camouflage and into the room as silent as a shadow.

"Goddamnit," Gilbert said through gritted teeth, "Fuck." He took a few rapid breaths, determined to go out fighting. He pushed himself up, gun extended and...

The massive Elite crossed the room far too fast for something that size.

There was a crimson flash inches from Gill's face which singed his eyebrows and blistered his nose. But he didn't feel much of it. Before Dufraine could flinch, white-hot pain caught his elbows and then his knees. He opened his mouth and a scream came out of him all on its own before a huge fist caught him in the chest like a ten-ton hammer. Bones cracked and the air was robbed from his lungs. It felt like his heart might explode as he was sent back into the wall. His head rapped with a hollow thud, cracking the sheetrock, and he crashed to the floor.

He lay there for a few moments, which seemed to stretch into eternity. His body jerked of its own accord as his brain struggled to process the immense amount of pain.

Dak lifted the armoire as easily as a stick, setting it out of his path. He stood over Gill looking indecently cheerful, teeth bared in a savage carnivore grin.

Gill looked up at the Elite, "Fucking... ass... hole..." he choked.

The whites of Gilbert's eyes were red with hemorrhage, fish-like as they rolled around in his head and he struggled on the floor. The cauterized stumps where his arms and legs use to be attached were leaving behind smears of bloody char.

"Fucking... kill me!" Gill tried to scream. It came out more of a whisper, his lungs uncooperative and his head swimming as his vision began to fail.

Dak cocked his head. His imperious, angular face became grave with the pitiless expression of a cat about to play with its prey.

"In time," the Elite growled, lifting the helpless human and carrying him off into the rumbling night.

Governor's Complex

Amy figured the battle would reach the compound in time to provide cover, or it wouldn't.

It did.

There was an explosion far to the east beyond the face of the tall structure's U. Unintelligible shouts came muffled from within the house and shadowy forms scrambled, ebbing and flowing in knots beyond lighted windows. The air was pierced by the low din of chaotic yelling as gunfire pealed across the night.

People began pouring from every door. Personnel were in various states of dress and armor as they rushed to join the coming fight. Ashmund's troopers were scrambling across the lawn in groups and Daniel's team advanced unnoticed, cloaked in camouflage and keeping to the deep shadows. A shout tripped on the heels of the sound of Covenant carbides cracking. An engine roared from somewhere on the grounds. To the northwest there was a dull whump which shook the wing and shattered windows. It was background to the shouts of personnel, the clanking of weapons and rustling of movement, and the drumming of running feet. Someone screamed.

As Daniel's team neared the house four of Ashmund's men spilled from a doorway, late for the action, and the dogs zipped past Amy's position.

The last man in the line was run down, his legs knocked from beneath him. He managed to let out a cry as he hit the ground and lost his rifle. The dogs converged on him and a wet scream became a piercing shriek as his body was torn apart. The other men turned back and staggered, not sure of what they were seeing. They watched frozen in confusion and horror as their comrade appeared to be shredded by invisible chainsaws. Finally coming to themselves they lifted their weapons and fired on the flinging, slinging, bloody heap. Their rounds struck the dogs, causing their shields to flare and their camouflage to break out in bright, wavering ripples.

With the men occupied, Daniel's team slipped up to the building. Amy ran the final few yards and dived head first onto the deep porch. She hit the deck, tucking and rolling, half sliding and coming up in a crouch. She glanced back in time to see the dog's camouflage fail as the animals rounded, bodies drenched in blood.

"Oh, Christ, what the fuck are those?!" one man shrieked, tripping over his own feet as the group backed away. He fired a long burst into the air as he went down, the muzzle flashes lighting in a continuous stream until the rifle rang empty.

His companions opened fire reflexively. The sound did little more than provide accompaniment to the chaotic din which pealed from across the complex. Bullets tore at the earth and deflected against flagging but active canine shield. Rounds punched through the man struggling to crawl backwards and the dogs lunged.

"Sarge."

Amy snapped to the awkward, stereophonic sound of Cory's voice. He spoke form her left but his voice hummed as it was picked up and transferred across to the crackling comms piece in her right ear.

She remembered to breathe, and moved along the porch. The team slid through the deep shadows and swept into the house through an open doorway. The room beyond was wide, with tall ceilings and filled with heavy furniture. The whole area was in a state of disarray. Strewn all about in semi-organized piles were abandoned articles of clothing, pieces of personal equipment, blankets and pillows. There were open ammo cans on the floor, loaders and empty mags of various size, food wrappers, cigarette butts overflowing a crystal dish on the floor, and other sundry leavings scattered everywhere. It looked like the aftermath of some militia-squatter's version of a slumber party and smelled of the lingering, stale odor of cigarettes and many unwashed bodies.

Running footsteps diminished. The slamming of doors died down. Red dots floated across HUDs as personnel drifted away on an upper floor. Somewhere outside gunfire rattled amid the sound of shouts and yells. An explosion made the floor tremble.

Crossing the expansive living area-turned-sleepover-camp, Amy followed when Daniel and Kote moved through the inner doorway. The team broke off in alternating directions as they entered the wing's rotunda-style vestibule. The antechamber was huge. There was a wide and theatric main staircase and a tall, vaulted ceiling. Several rooms and halls branched off in all directions and open spaces yawed overhead beyond upper-level railings.

The dogs bounded in sniffing the air. Bloody slobber dripped from their jaws and their big paws smeared reddish prints on the pale rug in the center of the room. They pranced around unconcerned with their lack of camouflage and darted between the members of Daniel's team, tails wagging. The male bumped Amy's hip with his snout then slinked by rubbing himself against her, his butt wiggling happily as he trotted away.

The team swept the foyer, clearing it. They cleared entryways as they went, breaking into smaller units to check the attached rooms before meeting to form up at the mouth of a wide hall. Vae and Jhett held back to guard their rear and everyone else pushed forward.

They found the rooms off the hall in disarray but empty. Large guest bedrooms had no doubt been taken over by the upper echelon of Ashmund's goons. Amy and Kote crept into a huge room with a large poster bed. She found the attached bathroom rank, but unoccupied. The walk-in closet had been ransacked. She followed Kote back out into the hall, realizing just how huge the house was. Labyrinthine. And they were…

"Sargent Starr," came Winnefrid and Trice's voices in unison across the link.

Rearguard Advancement

When Torsch stepped off the warriors around him followed. The group sprinted down the highway's slope for several hundred meters before leaping the concrete side-rails. A hundred feet below their boots hit the 287, crossing it in long strides and spilling over to drop to the edge of the underpass road. The movement advanced on the tail end of the battle at the city's fortification. Torsch could see that the wall was overrun. The stronghold had been taken and spurts of gunfire and screams pealed out beyond. The city was under siege but 'Korid's focus was in getting the remaining rearguard behind the wall to retrench and...

The fuel rod blast hit from his right sending 'Korid and some of his men careening through the air and skidding across the asphalt amid molten bits. Torsch gritted his teeth as the feeling of fire raked from his feet to his head. His shields collapsed in an instant, and the heat stunned his armor's electrical load causing it to lock up. Incendiary gel smoldered, sizzling and crackling against his battle plating. At the seams it was eating its way through his bodysuit. His hearing tried to right itself and from somewhere in the fog he was aware of nearby soldiers returning fire as sound coalesced. There was a high-pitched screaming and from his peripheral vision Torsch saw a warrior supine on the ground bucking and flailing uncontrollably as plasma gel burned into his face through his shattered helmet.

'Korid could see his rifle ten feet away along the roadside, and he could feel the ends of his fingers brushing the hilt of his sword still clipped to his hip. But, he could barely move. His armor gave in reluctant fits as he struggled, watching helplessly from the ground as warriors and soldiers around him took cover and fired on the Brutes which hunkered beneath the overpass.

Governor's Mansion

A position marker blinked and Amy pushed past Kote. She followed the green arrow on her HUD down twists and turns. As she neared Allison and Cory's markers a yellow blip came into view with them and Starr quickened her pace.

When she stepped into the room the smell nearly knocked her back. The windows and the glass of the open French doors had been shattered, letting in an ocean breeze, but the air was thick with the scents of burnt ozone and singed flesh, and the coppery stench of blood. The coagulating fluid was splattered on the walls and the ceiling, and covered the toppled furniture in a thin film. A headless body was lying in a pool of crimson just inside the French doors. The male dog was lapping at the edge of the darkening fluid with his tongues.

Winnefrid had cut her camouflage and was standing before a young woman who sat in the middle of the room trembling. She was drenched in blood, shaking, wide-eyed. She looked lost sitting there next to a set of disembodied arms and legs, holding a Magnum in one hand and in her lap…

Was that… part of a head?

"He… he…" the woman said in a voice quivery from shock.

"Jolene?" Amy asked, crossing the room as she deactivated her own camouflage and shouldered her way between Winnefrid and Cory.

Starr squatted down next to Governor Krumfelt's daughter and Jolene looked up into the other woman's face. They had met several times, casually and in passing. They had hardly hung out in intersecting social circles, and there was no recognition in Krumfelt's cornflower blue eyes. Her pupils were flooded and her skin was pale beneath a veneer of blood.

"He…" she hiccupped.

"Are you hurt?" Amy asked.

Jolene looked at the bloody mush of hair, bone, and flesh cradled in her lap. She raised her hand, dripping with brain matter, to her own head, "I don't… th-think s-s-so," she stuttered. "It's-s not… m-mine." A flood of tears broke free from her eyes and she sobbed, "We-e're all gonna d-die."

"No, Jolene," Amy said as gently as she could, "But, I need you to tell me where Ashmund is."

Jolene looked at her as if she had invoked the name of a god, "Ash-shmund," she whispered, clamping her eyes shut as a tiny whine escaped her mouth, "Oh, n-no. He-e's going to kill everyone n-now," she cried.

"Jolene," Starr barked, a bit more harshly that she should have. She gave the younger woman's shoulder a shake and said in a rush, "I need you to focus. Where can we find him? Where is he?"

Jolene sat there trembling, her head making small side-to-side jerks, "You don't under-st-stand," she squeaked, "He-he'll… he'll…"

"Where is he?" Amy snapped.

Jolene's face drew up in an expression of anguish. She looked down at her lap, a gun laying against one palm as she petted a blob of gore and hair with the other. She wagged her head and sniffed. The female dog eased up, low crawling on her belly, and put her head against Jolene's shoulder. Krumfelt looked at the creature without reaction, eyes far off as she reached to pat the dog's neck. She slumped over, leaning her cheek against the animal's wide forehead as if the Sangheili hunting dog was a beloved pet.

She nodded to herself, her lips mashed together before she blubbered, "Upstairs. On the west wing." Her voice caught and her next words came out small like a child's, "He took my momma and daddy's room."

"Good girl," Amy stroked the side of the other woman's face.

The dog moved away and dashed out the door following her mate with Jolene watching like a woman trapped in a fog.

The rest of the team's markers were already moving beyond the French doors and down the porch when Amy rose to follow. She reached to reactivate her own camouflage and glanced back in time to see Jolene's empty eyes looking through her. Krumfelt's face was slack and emotionless as she leveled the Magnum at Amy with a jittery hand.

Starr's mind swam, half-panicked, but she whirled, bringing the Reaper to her shoulder, "Jolene, don't…"

Sub-Note: Bahahahaha! I regret nothing.