Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or Worm. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with a commercial purpose. It is not for sale or rent.
Chapter 16
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Part 5
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15 January 2011
Protectorate HQ
Brockton Bay
This was what Emily Piggot had been trying to avoid ever since her first day as Director. Brockton Bay was right now a battle-zone and it was going to get much worse before it got better.
If it got better.
Two dozen large monitors showed live feeds from all over the city. In the heart of ABB territory, a building exploded in flames. Emily could see Armsmaster's form fly out and bounce off the wet street outside. PRT and Special Forces troopers opened up with everything they had on a monstrous, fiery shape which moved within the ruins.
Not too far away, Brockton PD and more PRT troopers did their best to apprehend regular ABB gangsters, leading to multiple firefights. The Director didn't require the verbal confirmation to figure out what was happening. The gangs were prepared for a siege, and as often as not, they outgunned those sent after them. The same was true in the Empire 88 part of the city. Over there, more than one raid turned into a siege upon hardened safe-houses, and that was before the capes got involved.
A birds-eye view from a helicopter showed a ravaged street, shot up and then scourged by Hookwolf's blades. Blood blossomed on the light snow where pieces of men fell after the villain shredded them asunder. BPD officers crawled away, trying to retreat while under fire from the nearby Empire safe-house, while a SWAT unit executed a firing retreat. The sole thing keeping Hookwolf at bay was a squad of Special Forces wearing alien armor and wielding alien weapons. They slowed down the villain by blasting off chunks of his blades.
Not too far from that engagement, multiple BPD units ran in the face of Kreig and Alabaster, their weapons ineffective against the villains. A PRT drone showed a Black Hawk descended behind the Empire capes. Troopers in gray alien armor rappelled down and opened fire with energy weapons without losing a beat.
Alabaster fell to the ground with his chest blasted away by blue energy pulses, while Kreig turned around and ran at the troopers. Energy bolts reflected from him or spun away just before touching his form, yet the villain's defenses did little for the thermal energy of the near misses. Emily watched Kreig's winter clothes catch fire shortly before he could reach the slowly retreating soldiers. At that point, Alabaster got to his feet only to be shot apart again. Kreig's charge halted as he began tearing his clothes off, all the while the soldiers kept shooting at him. Two of them changed targets and repeatedly shot at Alabaster, charring or even tearing off large parts of the villain. He reset two more times, before multiple energy bolts struck him in the chest just as he reformed. He stumbled a step back, before the soldiers cut him down, shearing off most of his torso off. Piggot saw everything below Alabaster's shoulders turn into mist before the collapsed.
The villain didn't reform again.
Kreig surged to his feet, most of his clothes gone, along with large strips of skin, revealing oozing, smoking wounds. He screamed at the steel gray sky and rushed the soldiers on unsteady legs. They merely kept falling back and pumping shot after shot at him. While not a single energy bolt touched the cape, near misses turned out to be good enough.
Emily grimaced as he watched the Empire cape slowly cook and eventually collapse during his suicidal charge.
Regrettably, in far too many cases, the PRT and their supporting forces weren't so fortunate.
"Alexandria and Legend are in position and engaging Lung." One of the tactical coordinators announced.
The Director directed her gaze to the relevant monitors just in time to see a dark blur fall from the heavens and strike Lung in the spine. Lung… he no longer resembled a man. Instead, there was a twisted parody of a dragon with slowly growing dual-joined wings, who spewed fire all over the district. His very presence was enough to melt the streets and occasionally set nearby buildings on fire. Alexandria's strike created a shock-wave, which picked up some of Lung's fires and pulsed outwards like a firebomb, bathing everything nearby in fire.
A streak of light followed and Legend was there, blasting Lung with lasers that did their bests to freeze the ramped up villain. At least that was in hand now, even if it meant a whole section of the city would be a write off now. Perhaps the aliens might want to buy it at discount?
Emily jerked her head back at that thought. She felt helpless now. All her assets were deployed and engaged, for all the good it did. At least the Wards were near the outskirts of the city, overseeing the evacuation efforts and safely out of the way.
The Director looked at the two monitors not showing the unfolding disaster in her city. Perhaps, this was something she should have done a lot earlier, before the aliens arrived. Then again, she harboured the nagging suspicion that before their arrival, at best she would have been replaced and nothing productive would have happened. It didn't matter now.
To begin with, Emily turned to the monitor displaying the tense form of the Governor.
"Governor Franks," Piggot began, "as the Director of the Protectorate East-North-East branch, I must dully report that the available Protectorate, PRT and local law enforcement forces can no longer contain the villain population of Brockton Bay. I'm requesting any and all aid the state government could provide."
Mitchel Franks, Maine's Governor, brought a trembling hand through his reedy white hair and nodded glumly. He looked like a man who just bit into a rotting lemon.
"You'll have it, director." Franks looked away from the camera. "General Philips, I'm authorizing the National Guard to enter Brockton Bay's proper. You're to offer all necessary aid to local law enforcement in restoring law and order within the city." The Government turned to look back at the camera. "Mr. President, I'm requesting federal support in resolving the situation in Brockton Bay."
"Granted. General Grissom?"
"We can have Air Force assets on station in five minutes. The leading elements of the 101st Airborne Division can reach Brockton Bay within thirty minutes. Airborne elements from Fifth Infantry Division are one hour away, with the heavy elements roughly five hours away from the word go. Do I have authorization to deploy them?"
"You have, General."
In the end, it as simple really. Just a few words, a single request really, and the whole world changed, again, even if it didn't know it yet. There was no doubt that between the Triumvirate and approaching reinforcements, they would secure the city soon. What was left from it anyway. However, what would happen next was anyone's guess.
A quiet commotion broke from the screen showing the White House's part of the conference call.
"Mr. President, a number of Mandalorian assets just lifted off from Canada and are heading our way.
"We're receiving a general call from the alien Captain."
"This is Captain Fel hailing the United States government. Be advised, in light of recent events in Brockton Bay, I'm dispatching a security force to ensure the safety of Mandalorian citizens and Mandal Motors personnel stationed in the vicinity of ongoing hostilities."
Well, things could obviously become much more complicated even if the Sith remained quietly behind their perimeter at the docks, Emily concluded. She only hoped no one would be suicidal enough to attack the aliens.
She didn't miss the stir and impotent anger coming from various people linked by the conference call. What the Mandalorians were doing right now could be considered an act of war. Yet, that was something no one sane in the US government wanted to even contemplate, much less risk sparking.
It was a show of power, really, not much different than the posturing between the various gangs. It was just that, the Mandalorians had the biggest stick and were ready to apply it liberally if they deemed it necessary.
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Part 6
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15 January 2011
Brockton Bay
The plan went to hell almost as soon as it began, which was to Richard Marcinco's utter lack of surprise. There were too many working parts, too many people from different agencies involved, not enough time to ensure proper coordination. As if that wasn't bad enough, operational security was all but guaranteed to be shot down, and it was. Otherwise, the regular cops and SWAT wouldn't be running straight into either prepared ambushes or fortified sites with people armed to the teeth waiting for them.
The helicopter shook, buffered by a shock-wave from the battle they were busy fleeing from. Marcinco tosséd back his head biting off a litany of curses. This was the greatest fuck-up he had been part of since forever. If he was any judge of particularly nasty fuck-ups, this particular one was just beginning.
"This is all messed up!" One of the armored troopers mumbled quietly.
The sole reason Marcinco heard him was the comm units built in their helmets. While he agreed with the sentiment, this wasn't the time or place for it. He knew from unpleasant experience, that letting your anger influence you, was particularly terrible idea when facing parahumans.
"Lock down that shit, soldier, we've got a job to do." Marcinco's voice cracked over the squad network. "Keep your head straight and focus on the task at hand." He added in a bit softer tone.
Intense flashes of light illuminated the Black Hawk, swiftly followed by another shock-wave and a thunderclap racing on its heels. White streaks slashed their way through the overcast gray sky, undoubtedly targeting the rampaging dragon. Good, Marcinco thought. This wasn't job for the bloody infantry. His next target, however…
He could hear distant explosions even over the thump of the rotor's blades. Another resounding crash followed, complete with a shock-wave lightly rattling the helicopter. Fucking dragon.
Marcinco cursed the villain, silently this time, and drove him out of his mind. He had another target to deal with now. They were on the way to a firefight, where one of the local nazi wannables was busy engaging local police, SWAT and an SF team. The bastard was still active too, which meant he was a tough one.
Hookwolf, Richard recalled from the endless briefings on the local villain population in desperate need of trimming. Mid-range Brute, spinning blades, murderous bastard in need of shooting. Engage from long range and with Protectorate support only. The Protectorate was busy, so it was up to the poor bloody infantry. Marcinco cracked a brief smile under his helmet while the chopper descended on a final approach to the combat zone. For a change, the poor bloody infantry received some new toys to play with.
His smile vanished when he got a closer look at the feed from the other Black Hawk in the area. Bloody snow, a street blasted to hell and back, an active firefight. This brought back memories, and most of them weren't particularly good.
"My fire-team is engaging that moving blender. The rest of you engage the strong-point and cover the cops." Marcinco ordered.
The helicopter lurched and hovered at the far end of the street, a few hundred feet from the spinning, melting blades of the villain.
"Out, on the double!" Marcinco snapped and followed his own order, flinging a rappelling rope out. He wasted no time in getting to the ground and shouldering his alien ray-gun.
His squad fanned out behind him, took aim, and they opened fire. Blue pulses of energy flew at the targets, tearing chunks of concrete or blasting off spinning blades as fast as they could form. Marcinco wasted no time and jogged towards the closest cover, shooting all the way. Between the relatively light recoil and the targeting assist on the HUD, he had no trouble hitting his spinning target. If anything, this felt all too easy and sterile. The sound of the battle was subdued due to the sound filters in his helmet and the only thing he could smell was clean filtrated air. No smoke, no cordite, not even his own sweat.
This was a strange experience, even if fighting with a gas-mask should have been similar, not to mention something he had to do many times in the past. It wasn't, and the brief training didn't properly prepare him for this. It was almost like a lucid dream instead of a real firefight.
Fortunately, Marcinco, and from what he could see, the other troopers, had enough experience to push through the odd feeling of fighting in the new armors without letting it slow them down.
Within moments, he found himself crouching behind the engine of a shot-up police cruiser, which offered some useful cover from the building across the street. A brief glance ensured him that the second fire-team had the safe-house supressed, which allowed him to focus his whole attention on the rampaging villain. Even with three fire-teams engaging him with energy weapons, Hookwolf merely slowed down. The villain's blades now popped up into existence just in time to get blown up. Soon, the spinning vortex of death and mutilation became still, unable to advance under the onslaught. Yet, despite a puddle of molten metal forming below him, he showed no sign of actually going down.
Marcinco ceased firing and his right arm went to his harness on its own volition, looking for the pouch containing a few precious alien grenades. He picked up one of the spheres and quickly glanced at it, his HUD identifying it immediately.
A CryoBan grenade. Richard wasted a few precious moments fiddling with the unfamiliar safeties of the weapon before his HUD outlined it in blinking red light, informing him that it was live.
"Grenade!" Marcinco shouted and threw the sphere true.
Hookwolf had used the past few seconds to take a handful of slow steps forward, each one spilling sizzling molten metal on the wet ground. The grenade flew true and landed right in front of the villain, who was about to step on it when it detonated.
A steam explosion engulfed Hookwoolf, followed by the distinct sound of shattering metal and a howl of pain. This didn't stop the troopers who kept shooting at him. Their visors took only a heart-beat to cut through the steam and outline the broken form of the villain, offering them a juicy target.
A few seconds later, Hookwolf's figure collapsed upon itself, torn to pieces by the blasters.
"Cease fire!" Marcinco barked as soon as he saw energy pulses fly through the fast dissipating steam without hitting anything, because there was precious little left to shoot at. "Corporal, check on the target, we'll cover you. One-Two, keep suppressing the strong-point."
All they found from Hookwolf was a small, cracked and dented sphere leaking blood. A burst of blaster fire vaporized most of it.
"Now he's down for good." One of the troopers grunted.
"Sergeant, detach a fire-team to secure the wounded." Marcinco ordered the CO of the second SF squad. "The rest of us are taking that house!"
=MK=
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