[Normal P.O.V]
Isla Guadalupe, Surter's Beach
19:00 P.M.
Mission Status: ?
A lone soldier carrying an assault rifle, was patrolling the beach. It was a quiet and cold night. Fog began to form near the sea due to the cold weather. Just a few more minutes and his shift will be done. He passed the dock, where their gunboats were stationed. Normally, he was just going to sit down on the ground and wait until his shift is over.
But somehow, in this specific night, he felt something was going to happen.
So he decided to do his job properly. As he continued his patrol, he heard a faint sound. He quickly whip his head out in the ocean.
Nothing. The fog covered nearly everything, blocking the soldier's vision. But he knew he heard something.
He squinted his eyes as hard as he could to see what was out there. After a few more seconds, he gave up. He turned away, shaking his head, thinking he was starting to imagine things. Until...
HOOOONNNKK!
The soldier quickly whipped his head again towards the ocean. He wasn't imagining that one. No doubt, that was the sound of a ship.
Like he thought, a ship suddenly emerged from the fog. A dreadnaught to be exact. Then two others emerged as well. Followed by a fleet of gunships.
The soldier nearly dropped his rifle. They were under attack!
He quickly ran back to the fortress, to alert the others, when a shell landed on where he was standing, blowing up everything in a five-meter radius. All that was left, was a helmet and a half-melted rifle.
Isla Guatamala
19:15 P.M.
Alpha Unit Status: Mission Begins
"Go, go, go, go! Man the turrets!" The captain yelled out orders.
The men followed, running to their stations. But it was too late. A barrage of missiles destroyed the turrets within seconds, sending broken metal and shards of shells flying, and causing the men to get down and duck.
The beach was already demolished. A series of artillery fire and shells destroyed their ships as if they were toys. All the turrets and anti-aircraft guns were taken down immediately by enemy bomber planes and attack planes.
But it wasn't over.
Drago's men began pulling out trucks that carried a large missile launcher with four rectangular canisters, armed with patriot missiles.
The trucks rolled down to the beach, while some of the soldiers began laying cover fire using rocket launchers. Once they were in the right range, they began to aim the missile launcher.
With a click of a button, sixteen patriot missiles zipped to the air and into the enemy fleet. The dreadnoughts fired some anti-missile shells at the missiles, taking down a few. But nine still hit the dreadnoughts, causing some serious damage.
Some hit two gunships which caused it to implode, debris and fire flying everywhere, as it slowly sinks down to the ocean floor.
Drago's men began cheer, and reloading the missile launchers. After a few minutes, they were ready to launch when suddenly, a loud bang echoed to the entire ocean.
Everyone froze. They stared at the dreadnoughts at the open ocean but they haven't moved a muscle. They began to wonder what that loud bang was when all of a sudden, the entire beach began to be barraged by volleys of artillery fire, destroying everything in its path. Bodies were flung everywhere. Dirt burst out of the ground. The missile launchers were absolutely destroyed, reduced to pieces, causing the missiles that were loaded to exploded.
After a few minutes, the artillery fire stopped. The beach was an absolute massacre. Scraps of burnt metal were laying on the ground along with the burnt flesh of Drago's men. Five-foot deep craters were sprinkled along the sandy beach, caused by the shells and artillery fire.
Eight landing ships docked over the coast of the beach. The door dropped down, Drakos agents began to rush out. Some of the landing ships had Leopard tanks rolling out. They began to surround the beach, forming a shield wall, using ballistic shields as barricade, with the tanks staying at back.
A red-headed man with a scars stepped out from his landing ship, holding a short rusted sword. He had no shirt on, revealing his scarred body; only wearing armored pants and boots. He sniffed and breathed in the smoke in the air from the fires. He then licked his lips, sporting a grin.
"I love the smell of blood and smoke." He said, laughing maniacally.
Wind began to pick up from the beach, as three transport helicopters landed at the beach. More Drakos agents rushed out of the helicopters, all armed and battle ready.
A Lockheed Martin F-22 Raptor followed, rolling down to the beach, stopping just beside where the red-headed man was. The engine spluttered before shutting down. The helm of the cockpit popped open, where a woman with strawberry-blonde hair emerged from it, and rolled her eyes at her companion.
She wore a silver scaled-armor that looked like it was made from dragon scales. On her head, is a silver and bronze circlet, which extends down to her jaw at the sides. She has on a short-sleeved bronze tunic with matching shoulder guards, grey pants and boots. As her weapon of choice, is a tomahawk made out of Gronkle Iron, which hung on her waist.
"You look like a madman, Dagur." She quipped.
Dagur let out another maniacal laugh, "It's just the feeling of war again, Atali. I missed it!"
"Sir, multiple targets ahead!" One of the agents yelled out.
"How many?" Atali asked.
"Over three-thousand, ma'am. With heavy artillery."
Dagur raised his sword over his lips, licking it with his tongue, with a smirk on his face.
Atali scrunched up her face in disgust. She shook her head, taking out her tomahawk as the charging sound of Drago's men began to rise. The Leopard tanks whirred to life, the agents drew their weapons, and anchored their shields.
Dagur let out a wolf-like howl, "Come to daddy!"
In an office, somewhere in Drago's fortress, an olive-skinned man wearing complete battle armor was facing a mysterious figure sitting on his desk. His chair was turned, facing the window.
"Sir, they've fully taken over the beach. They're cutting down our men like animals. Should we send the rest?" The man asked.
The mysterious figure swung his chair around, revealing a large man with a scarred face. With an intimidating presence that could scare fully grown men, he pounded the long iron bullhook on his left hand. He wore his hair and beard in thick dreadlocks, and had a metal arm attached to his right shoulder. Draped over his shoulders, is a black fur cape from a bear that he killed when he was young.
"No." He spoke with a gruff and raspy voice. "Let them come. I'll destroy them without even lifting a finger."
930 Feet under the North Pacific Ocean
19:21 P.M.
Omega Unit Status: Mission Ongoing
The inside of the submarine was like what you'd get if your crossed a space station with a fallout shelter. Everywhere were big computers, over-sized buttons, dials and monitors that looked brand new and high-tech. Unlike a normal submarine, everything looked clean and spacious. It had the kind of smell associated with a mechanic. Yet with a slight undertone of a air refresher. Under the neon glow, everything was flat and retro, like a broken disco club.
For a submarine, Astrid felt like she could run freely inside. Even with about hundreds of people inside, it felt like they could fit an extra tank or two. It turns out, some of her friends were on the other subs, and Zythid was the only one she knew who's with her besides Cutthroat, but he was busy talking to the captain of the sub.
Astrid sat beside Zythid, who was silently watching the other agents prepare for battle, at one of the bunker areas at the back of the subs. Now that Astrid has a clearer look at him, she actually found him quite attractive. Though he was tall and lanky, he had a sharp face and messy black hair. With a chiselled jaw that could cut diamonds, and a pair of chocolate brown eyes that resembles a begging puppy.
Apparently he wasn't able to gear up properly, because he was still dressed in his graduation uniform. He ditched the coat, only wearing the button-down shirt untucked and the top two buttons unbuttoned, with the hip-length cloak over his shoulders.
Other than attaching knee-braces over his slacks and boots, he looked as if he was late at his movie shooting.
"So, Zythid. Uhhh, how's it going?" Astrid awkwardly tried to strike up a conversation.
"Blondie, you don't have to force yourself to talk to me." Zythid replied coldly.
Blondie didn't like the way he spoke to her. So she glared at him, and lightly punched his arm, which to him, is a jab from Mike Tyson.
"Ow! What the hell?" Zythid exclaimed as he rubbed his 'injured' arm.
"I'm just trying to get to know you. Is that bad?" Astrid retorted.
Zythid rolled his eyes, and sighed. "Fine, fine. But no personal questions." He said, raising a finger.
Now it was Astrid's turn to roll her eyes. "Sure thing, princess. So, what's your gear?"
"My what?"
"Gear. As in weapon. Y'know, what are you using?" Astrid said dumbly.
Zythid leans to his right and takes out a scythe with a long steel chain attached to it. Astrid recognized the weapon from one of lessons her Uncle Fisk taught her—a chain sickle. "This... is my baby. I ain't leaving my house without this."
"You always carry that around you?" Astrid asked.
"Uhh, yeah?" Zythid replied as if it were obvious.
"Weirdo..." Astrid muttered. Though it was quite hypocritical since she as well, brings her axe everywhere, but only inside the micropocket.
Zythid's eye twitched. "What the-"
Alarms began to ring across the entire sub. Everyone froze, as the neon lights shifted to red, illuminating the entire sub. Then, a voice came through the P.A. speaker;
"We have arrived at edge of the island. We're about to resurface. Please exit the vessel silently once the alarms shut off. Buckle up."
The submarine began to rumble as it began to slowly resurface. The agents took their seats and strapped on the belts over their waist. Astrid and Zythid did the same, locking the buckle over at the iron hoop.
"Do you think we'll win?" Astrid repeated the question she just asked Cutthroat.
Zythid glanced over at her, "Who knows. Let's just pray the gods ain't fucking with us this time."
San Clemente Island, Lyngvi Field
19:30 P.M.
Bete Unit Status: Mission Ongoing
The third AGM steadily lowered its smoking barrel after firing its last round. A squad of agents rushed towards it, carrying a crate full of shells, to reload the gun. The first, second and fourth AGMs powered up once again, ready to fire.
The short-haired general held up her hand in the air. Then in one swift move, dropped it. Syncing with her hand, the AGMs launched another volley of projectiles over the ocean. The loud release echoed throughout the entire island, causing some birds to fly away.
"A direct hit, ma'am. But there are still more incoming." One of the agents, sitting with a computer, announced.
Mala gritted her teeth, "Blast it! Our guns aren't strong enough."
"Did I hear that someone's gun isn't strong enough?"
Mala turns around to follow where the voice came from, and her eyes lands on a pair.
"Or was it that she wants to blast something?" Tristan asked himself.
His twin slapped him on his head, earning her a groan. "Shut your trap, numbnuts!" She then turns to Mala. "Anyways, we brought something that could interest you."
Racquel smirked then placed her index finger and thumb into her mouth, and released a sharp whistle.
Out of nowhere, came a low groan of metal and gears grinding, followed by the sound of a chain link hitting the ground. Everyone whips their head towards the sound, seeing a large truck with two huge self-propelled guns at the back. Instead of normal wheels, it has a chain link and road wheels like a tank. Each gun had three huge barrels, armored cabin, and metallic plates.
"I present thee, the Archer FH77 BW L52 Howitzer. Or what I'd like to call, the ASS." Tristan presented formally.
Racquel elbowed her twin brother in the gut, causing him to wheeze and gasp for air. "How can you sound so smart and dumb at the same time?"
"If you call me dumb, then you're calling yourself dumb also since we're twins!" Tristan retorted.
"How the hell does that work?"
"Well, mom and dad did the-"
"Thorstons!" Mala intervened, before anything else came out of their mouths. "Mind explaining to us what this weapon is?
The Thorston twins stopped wrangling each other for a moment and cleared their throat.
"The ASS is a twin-operated artillery gun that can fire six 240 mm shells as far as 600 kilometers." Racquel explained.
"We tweaked it a bit so that the shells will dig into the ground once it hits, creating a bigger BOOM!" Tristan explained gleefully.
Mala raised an eyebrow in interest. "Show me."
The twins looked at each other, the sly grins growing on their faces. They immediately rushed to the ASS, manning the guns. The twins flipped a switch, activating the guns as it whirred to life. They continued to prepare the guns; loading the shells and aiming to the perfect target, as if they've been doing it their entire lives.
The rumbling and whirring halted as soon as they aimed the guns. The twins nodded at each other as they simultaneously pressed the trigger button.
"Fire Barf!"
"Fire Belch!"
The guns boomed, not once, but thrice, spilling fire and smoke into the night sky as six flaming bombs poured out of them. The shells flew over them and shot through the air and over the ocean, leaving a trail of smoke until it disappeared into the night.
Everyone in the field were in shock, not able to formulate a single word. They have never heard or seen anything like that before. They gaped at the direction where the shells went then back at the smoking barrels of the ASS or the Archer.
"Cay, what's the status of the shells?" Mala spluttered. She still couldn't believe that such a weapon exists. And worse, it's in the hands of some crazy twins.
The agent, Cay, typed furiously on the computer then stood up abruptly. She stared at Mala with saucer-like eyes. "It eliminated the entire defense army..."
Mala and the entire group of agents gasped. A few seconds later, realization hits them, and cheered wildly.
The Thorston twins came out of the Archer with huge grins as Mala walked over to them. "I have to say, Thorstons. I doubted you a while back. But I take it back. You maniacs are amazing."
Tristan stomped his foot on the ground and yelled in celebration. Racquel pumped her fist in the air, howling like a wolf.
'It looks like our chances of success got higher.' Mala thought, a growing smile on her face.
"I knew it wouldn't explode!"
"What?!"
[Night Fury P.O.V]
Walking over the piles of bodies, I dropped the empty magazine on the ground as I reloaded my pistol with another round, amd cocking the slide out.
I gaze at lone thug in the corner of the room, shaking in fear. He was part of a group of animal traffickers who were loading a bunch of rare hybrids in their truck. Luckily, I stopped them before they could leave. But I didn't kill them for that.
"How long have you been here?" I demanded.
"J- Just for th- three hours." The thug spluttered as he trembled.
Before another word could come out, a bullet already lodged itself between his eyes, blood leaking down his face. His legs crumpled, his whole body following them to the floor.
Three hours. She should be here by now-
"Night Fury..."
Speak of the devil.
I didn't have to turn around. I already knew it was her.
"What's up, Rogue Rider? Beat you to it." I shifted my gaze from the dead body to the figure at my right.
The figure slowly picked up a snapped knife off the ground, then threw it back. Her womanly figure was still obvious even if she wore an armored suit. The armbands above her hands were sleeked with blood, indicating she came from somewhere else. Her slow breaths escaping her masking helmet, creating a swirl of wind. Spinning a hooked staff on her right hand like a professional majorette, she spoke in a well-mannered voice.
"What do you want, 'Night Fury'?" She asks me. "I only ever see you when you need something from me."
"I'll cut to the chase. Drago Bludvist attacked Drakos. I need your help." I replied.
As I expected, she instantly froze. Drago was a sensitive subject to her so I was unsure if she would be willing to help us or not. She glances at me. Unlike me, she wore a mask that covers her entire face, including her eyes, so I couldn't decipher what's she's thinking about.
Then, she tells me, "Come with me, Night Fury. We'll talk about it in my place."
I'm probably wasting time right now. But if this will help, then I'll go through with it. Putting back my pistol in my waist, I let out a deep sigh. "Just as long as that giant owl you ride isn't there."
"What's wrong with Cloudjumper?" She playfully asks me.
"That motherfucker just keeps on staring at me. I don't like it." I grumbled as I remember the owl's huge yellow eyes. I shivered at the thought.
"Well, unfortunately for you, we're riding him to my place."
"Fuck!"