"Nonono- arrrrgghhh!" A Golden path fighter had succumbed to the tide of unsettling savages that swarmed into their icy mountain base. His comrades watched in horror as they dragged him away into the depths of the caverns in the temple now lost to them. Shuddering at the thought of what they intended to do with him alive and well.
Only moments ago, they were looking forward to greeting and congratulating the return of the Yinkian autonomous commando regiment led by Commander Namdak. And here instead were these ravenous warriors that chopped and cleaved their way through the ranks of warrirors. And what of those few augmented warriors? How did they fare where the Royal Army always needed heavy ordnance to deal with? These demented warriors couldn't care less if they were immortal or not, when one of theirs fell, the rest grappled the fighter and took him away like all the others.
It was like nothing they'd ever seen, and it frightened them to the core. More so that even the demon that purely killed them. These- things were monsters.
But they weren't the biggest threat amongst these enemies.
(ROOAAAAARRR) "Oh my gods!-…"
Though they had never seen it before, everyone that bore witness to that beast with ash-snow fur in its giant primate form knew what it was. It was a creature of folklore, not solely exclusive to Kyrat or the lowland states, but every country that was connected by the collective mountains known as the Himalayas.
Wherever those creatures stalked through their camp, left a wake of destruction and snow caked in thick blood. An augmented warrior the Golden Path came to call "exalted" affectionately courageously confronted that creature thinking he was stronger than it. In a flash, that beast tore him in half effortlessly and tossed his two halves aside to rip through more at its leisure. They were genuinely no match for this think.
"Withdraw! Withdraw!" One of the Commanders in the Eastern sector of their encampment that had been raided announced to the whole Eastern flank. The Eastern side of the camp ran towards the Central part where fortifications were being made to prevent a further advance. The Central sector was where Mohan and his benefactor inhabited.
"Mohan! You have to leave this place!"
"They'll be here any minute! Great Leader!"
His commanders begged him to evacuate the area to a more fortified location. But Mohan stood where he was, on the steps towards the temples inner sanctum where his mistress resided with Vel standing guard at the entrance. Mohan looked down from his location towards the approaching horde of warped humans, permeating a scent from their mutated flesh. A scent and aura he knew very well.
His eyes locked on to one of the savages in the distance relaying orders to the rest. That leader finished his orders and turned to face him eye to eye from a considerable distance away. But he knew he saw him.
"…."
Mohan signed. This should not have been the fate that they suffered after ensuring the survival of Golden Path. Yet, they became one of their adversaries' due to a realignment of their fates for encountering something they shouldn't have.
"The cause owes you so much, Namdak…"
The former Commander grinned in delight as he'd found the source of this deluded ideology.
"But I cannot repay your Karma this way." Mohan waved out a hand to signal something his Commanding officers were completely unaware of.
Three cloaked shadows appeared next to him and stood steadfast between the Golden Path and the forces only Mohan knew were most certainly the Disciples of Yalung. Byproducts of an "elixir" that transformed them into hideous beasts of instinct. They knew nothing of what they truly became, relying upon false memories that the elixir provided them of the terrible truth of Yalung. Because this "elixir" was the unstoppable ever-flowing blood of the Asura, leaking from its containment under the treasured mountain. It bestowed fragments of his memory upon those that absorbed it, but not complete memories. It showed how weak the sealing hex had degraded over time, and how much more it was showing signs of expiry when a talisman was broken in Sacred Kyrat. How many were gone and how many left, only she knew. And how they were being broken.
But it no longer mattered, these Disciples of Yalung had to be destroyed if nothing else.
Vasu stood alone against the monster, now fully recovered from the grazes and blast injuries due to some sort of bending in natural law the Rakshasa could provoke upon the body it possessed. He could finally see the irony of it now, what normal soldiers faced when going up against him before. But now, he'd been severed from the chain thanks to Badala. His soul was his. Correcton. It merely transitioned from one monster to another. Just that this one he belonged to had consideration for his father.
He was down to four rounds, after expending another to buy the Commandant time to escape to reorganise the garrison regiment. He didn't have to kill this demon, only delay it long enough to stalemate the battle. Eventually, these entities roaming the bastions would succumb to fatigue and discover the infavorable odds. Rakshasa Bhaskar was no fool to this plan and began to smile at the simpleness of his plan.
"Rakshasa don't tire as you do, Vasu. It would be fair to say even for over a millenia we've had many sleepless nights and yet are still capable of fighting at full potential. This is the heaven and earth between man and demi-god."
"If you're demi-gods, then why are you struggling to take this fortress?" Vasu stated the hypocrisy in his bold claim.
"There are many things you aren't at the liberty of knowing, Vasu. Not because you're stupid, but because your moral code is so narrow." Bhaskar put an end to their talk as he converged upon Vasu with lightning reflexes. He turned the grenade launcher to face the approaching Rakshasa with little regard for the thermobaric nature of the rounds. It hurt but it also deterred Bhaskar.
Unfortunately, the Rakshasa anticipated his move and latched onto his hand when it was close enough preventing it from firing at him since Vasu had a certain disregard for area of effect and onto an attritional approach where if he hurt it, it was worth it. The Rakshasa Bhaskar slapped the revolving grenade launcher out of his hand and delivered a kick to his chest.
"Gurrgh! (Crack)" He felt a few of his ribs break under the force of the kick as he fell and struck the concrete floor with his back.
It was barely even a minute since their little dance began and the overwhelming advantages were apparent to the Rakshasa Bhaskar. Vasu's mind raced trying to think of ways to counter him.
-How did Badala combat us in our prime?- It was both the solution to his problem and also his trial.
He recollected his encounters with Badala, the latter never ran for an engagement despite the disparity in strength. Whatever came from that demonic strength he employed had a price which he only used in times of desperation. But all that Vasu recalled were his colourful taunts to piss him off.
-Piss me off… infuriate him?-
His mind found an answer, but the question was of how effective was it upon others. He had only himself as a reference and even he knew that he was not the benchmark for tolerance. So the question was….. how patient was the Rakshasa?
Vasu looked at the smiling monster approaching. His conviction was contradicting his theory every way. How could angering him make it easier for him to counter? He had a brief running thought on the recent refresher lessons that his mentor gave him. All he accomplished was amazing defeat after defeat in his spar with his father. Where he moved with diligence, Bibek flicked his wrist to parry his blows like he was swatting a fly. Was that what it took to overpower Bhaskar?
"The princess's servant may have severed your connection to her and your talisman. But it need not end this way, Vasu Sen." Bhaskar raised out his hand to him.
"Join us, and by us I mean we and not Golden Path. We've watched your actions and conduct for as long as you held a weapon in your hand. We have judged you worthy of becoming more than just this."
Vasu struggled to his feet and tried to get a hold of his breathing.
"Will you stand by our side, Vasu Sen? There are mysteries within the land that will destroy your faith in all that you hold in principle. Such as that false idol your brethren have blindly worsh-."
"Jeez, you talk too much! Yap Yap Yap! (Sigh). Now I see how annoying it is to hear someone blabber on and on."
Bhaskar's nerve on the young man twitched.
"If all Rakshasa are like you then you deserved to be banished from existence."
"Vasu…. I warn you-."
"Banished by Kalinag. And banished by Darshan."
When that last name left his lips, a cold air burst out of an unexistent vaccum. That was the Rakshasa General's aura domain. And at that moment, a crushing feeling fell upon Vasu forcing him into a kneel.
"I guess that's how you wanted to be remembered as… a fool."
"And you would bother to remember a fool? You must be a bigger idiot than me for going up against the likes of you." Somehow at the heat of the moment, Vasu suddenly got the hang of spurting out remarks with amateur skill since he wasn't adept to it but tried to mimick Badala based on experience. But the results were clear to see, he provoked this Rakshasa General. He mentioned something about being the fourth of the pillars whatever that meant. But it also did mean that there were three other primary Commanders of the Rakshasa force hidden away conserving their strength. A terrifying thought occurred to him during the heated avoidance of the Rakshasa's wrath.
Who were they reserving this strength against?
In a blink of an eye, the Rakshasa appeared before him again, how was he doing that? He did not know, it was too quick for the human eye to see. His reflex kicked in and forced him to lean back as a hand grasaped out to snatch his neck but failed. Vasu turned around and ran towards a dead end, Bhaskar chuckled at his action and followed closely. He fired another round into the walls of a house and ran through the man-size opening. Throwing smoke grenades as he entered the confines of the house.
"Leading a tiger into a confine with a rabbit. You truly don't treasure your buck life." Even though he threw smoke into the house, Bhaskar could see and smell him just fine. But the purpose of the smoke and limited room weren't for making it more difficult for Bhaskar.
Bhaskar had finished playing around with this nuisance of a distraction and performed his flash manuever to kill Vasu with his barehands.
"Just die alre- (Clang)."
His blade finally contacted the Rakshasa's talon-sharp fingers, to Bhaskar's surprise as well.
"Now I see…." Vasu murmured to himself, seemingly understanding something about the Rakshasa's abilities.
Bhaskar applied pressure to his flaying of his left arm to push Vasu back. But Vasu seemed to direct the thrust in a spin as he narrowly dodged the hand reaching him to stab his kukri into his ribs.
"Gurrgh!" Bhaskar looked down in shock to see his flesh pierced by that move Vasu made. To put it into a more understandable perspective.
"Impossible!" Vasu was performing the third form of Four Seasons Pandemonium. To use one's own strength against him. Over history, the advancements of weapons had always been segregated into defense and offense, but there was also another balance at play in their development. A weapon with the ability to pierce X defence was always paired with a shield that could defend against X offense. When Bronze armour was developed, a Bronze sword was part of the troop implementation as well. When the gun stood for new offensive capabilities, the ballistic body protection countered it.
So Bhaskar's defense was as strong as his offensive power. That power, Vasu redirected at him. Bhaskar jumped back clutching his wound till it healed in surprise.
"You-…. You should not have been able to get pass the First stage!" The last Bhaskar knew of him, Vasu had struggled for years to further comprehend the martial art, with no signs of improvement. Before he left the Khati household, Bibek told him not to let his impulse cloud his emotion or it would be detrimental to his cultivation and improvement. But his words fell onto deaf ears as a young excited boy was off to become a Royal Guardsman. And having the first form was sufficient for nineteen-year-old Vasu to progress ever so quickly through the ranks to become Major. Frankly, the distribution of military positions was not like true professional armies. They were merely a militarized force paid from the sovereign's purse to act as a defensive force. It had been that way since Kyrats conception.
"Lots happened since then." Vasu took the initiative to attack, moving in to cover the distance that spanned between them. Bhaskar responded with a parry and exchanged blows with Vasu with his hands that begun to receive cuts all over from the change in Vasu's style. As for the choice in venue, it was also deliberate.
"You chose these confines to limit my movement around and you used the smoke grenades to track my movements through the smoke particles, so that's why you had so much confidence in countering me." Bhaskar had just explained what Vasu was doing all that while in a mere few exchanges.
"Sadly, I didn't fight hundreds of wars over thousands of years to lose to a mere mortal!" Bhaskar moved in to strike with openings present throughout his stance and strike. Vasu hesitated for a moment to this change, Bhaskar instantly found a counter for his technique. If he didn't attack him in a distance which he could employ the stance, then Bhaskar wouldn't need to worry about defending his body. True to his word of living through wars before Vasu was even born. Bhaskar struck out with his fist only as he was inches from Vasu's face with his own and delivered a one-inch punch to his abdomen. Vasu had just barely blocked with his blade due to reflex again, unfortunately under the tension of the powerful and quick strike, the blade broke in two then the fist landed on his ribs.
(Bang) (Crash)
Sending Vasu flying like a ragdoll through the windows and out of the other side of the house they were in. His body skidded upon the floor before striking the steps to a central atrium feature. He coughed out a goblet of blood from his cracked ribs and new damage to his internal organs.
"Yeurggh…." Vasu vomited out the contents of the afternoon meal he had with Elina and Mother Aasha.
Bhaskar slammed through the walls of the house effortlessly as he stared upon Vasu from where he was. And then noticed something behind him, and that was when Vasu bore witness to the first time that Bhaskar had shown any sort of surprise.
Behind Vasu, up upon the steps was a monument dedicated to the thousands that died during the atrocity of Lanka. But the Rakshasa wasn't concerned over the deaths of insects, he was bothered about the object impaled within the monument. Or rather, it was purposefully built around it since no one could remove it. Said object was an ancient sword embedded in stone, if the sword was to be retrieved from the mantle of concrete, the person would have discovered that it was in fact a broken blade at its tip.
But to Bhaskar, an Ancient General of the Rakshasa, that sword had more importance to him that anything else, even the mission entrusted to him by her.
It was the sword which once belonged to his sovereign, the King of Akaash.
In a time long forgotten, the blade had been forged by a Deva with essence of Creation and Destruction to bestow upon his devotee. It was a symbol of his rule over all of the Rakshasa living under his domain. A sequence of betrayal by the other races had led to the death of his noble liege and the possession of the blade falling upon the princess.
Bhaskar had been too occupied with his thoughts as to why the sword was here instead of her possession, that Vasu had the time to recover. But he was far from giving up now, as he approached the sword and latched his hands around the hilt. It was only then did Bahskar break from the spell of disbelief only to be replaced with incense for Vasu's attempt.
"Take your filthy hands of that sword." Vasu ignored him and pulled as if he was truly desperate to rely on even a broken blade, the only seeming weapon lying around to help him against Bhaskar.
At first, he was enraged and wanted to rip his head off, but seeing his desperation Bhaskar began to see how pathetic he was.
That sword had been magically embedded with a sequence to only allow one person to remove it, either him or someone carrying his blood. If so, then why was it left here instead of the fragment's hands? Bhaskar didn't know the answer to that either or why the princess had given it to him at a time like this.
"Hurrrghhh! Hurrrrghhh!" Vasu continued to tug at the sword that it worsened his condition, his wound began to bleed profusely that it spurted out of his cuts. His hands also bleed from the strain he put it through in pulling.
Bhaskar was starting to get tired of his behaviour, he had forgotten how much of a fool Vasu had always been and was now reminded by it here. He wasn't stubborn, but foolish.
"Do you want to fight me that much?" Bhaskar asked for afar.
"I don't want to die…" Bhaskar signed as he couldn't belief those words actually came from Vasu's mouth. His entire opinion of him had dropped rock bottom.
"…. Then walk away." Vasu was now not even worth killing.
"If I do….. you will kill everyone." Vasu's continued to pull as he replied to him.
"Only those in the way of our plans….." That however was not the end of his sentence.
"Kyrat and all the remnants of the mortal kingdom are in our way." He made it clear that for their plan to succeed, all would die.
The people of the Himalayas would die. So would the people of Kyrat. The Northerner and the Southerners. The Khati Household, his father, his mother….. Elina and Alisha would die though they did no wrong. All because the Mistress, this Princess of the Rakshasa was trying to achieve some goal here.
"Over-…." He murmured under the strain of freeing the sword, his only device to fight the Rakshasa.
"Over-…" Vasu was now pulling with a force like never before in his life, he was pulling with not just strength and will power but with a sole desire of wretching this sword free to do only one thing.
"OVER MY DEAD BODY!...RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!" He roared with bloodshot eyes and a bleeding external. He poured his lifeforce into freeing the blade.
And that was when a few changes fell over Vasu, his blood begun to boiled like he had an internal kettle within him and there was a gradual rise in heat upon his wrist. Until it felt like someone had planted a hot searing iron on his skin to brand him.
Though he himself didn't notice it due to the adrenaline rushing through his body. Bhaskar was watching every bit of it, his wrist was glowing till the clothing covering it was burnt away revealing a mark upon him that was all too familiar to Rakshasa Bhaskar.
That mark was a talisman, a talisman once broken months ago but was now being restored upon Vasu. That talisman came in the sharp of an animal that represented the very character that Vasu defined. As the talisman mark took the form of a Rhino, one with grazes all over its tough but resilient hide and nature. It took the form of the beast once herald as Karkadann.
Like a foreign chemical seeping into his body, Vasu's eyes began to undergo a change from his original brown hazel into all too familiar yellow irises. A trait of the power Ajay held in his dominance as the demon through channeling the unnatural powers locked within him. And now, shared through him with Vasu, through an oath of blood. Jeevan was the first apostle by word, Vasu had become the second by blood.
Bhaskar had a bad feeling about this sudden transition, he was not sure such a thing was even possible. A Talisman restoring on its own, especially one this old.
But it didn't matter to him. His mind had been set the moment he became aware that Vasu was holding a portion of the fragment's strength as well as his likeliness of restoring the Asura's sealing hex. Vasu had to die now. He walked forward ready to take his life, then something happened that he wouldn't have believed in his wildest of dreams, or dreadfulness of horrors.
(Crack) The earth and concrete around the sword began to crack, the material originally there during the monuments construction but not before. Then the sword drew out from its scabbard of earth with relative ease.
The sword came free fully after Vasu roared again for a final tug that wretched it out of the ground for both of them to bear witness. Bhaskar's mind collapsed into disbelief, one so great even for an entity such as himself to only be phased by beings more powerful than him.
With the blade free from its prison and held in Vasu's hand to inspect, he found his original opinion of it to change as he expected better. It was a strange thing to act as a monument and stranger for it to be embedded there and not a part of someone's collection. But Vasu was no fool to the expression held by Bhaskar upon his retrieval of the sword.
"Impossible-…" It seemed that Bhaskar had some idea of why.
"Impossible!" He denied it once more.
Vasu took a renewed stance, albeit in pain but still flightworthy and having a strange feeling pulsing through his veins brimming with energy.
"Then come here and find out!"
Five minutes in the air, cruising at normal speeds with fifteen to go till they reached their targets. Kestrel 2-2, 2-3 and 2-6 had already broken off their formation and headed in the direction of that para-military cliffside fortress. Bagha-something, Winnefred didn't care. In fact, when those treacherous nobles of the monarchy came to him he already knew that with or without his help, he had no place here. When the spark of rebellion blazed, the first ones to get killed were the foreigners. Be you protected by international law, an influential person from a foreign power or even a priest. The locals wouldn't even give a damn, they just wanted someone to pin the blame on their problems as the upstarts of the rebellion had influenced them.
He and two other wingmen were headed for a charming town called Tirtha. The Hong Konger explained that this place was subject to terrorist sympathy on multiple occasion and it was something they didn't want to deal with during their reign.
His payment was in Rubies, uncut stones with a net worth of eight million. They were now blood rubies thanks to the deed he would do to get'em. Money was still money. But after that, he was not staying here. Convincing the rest wasn't hard at all, they were survivors of many small wars so they knew the game and what their status was as mercenaries, expendible. So what was the plan?
Bomb the places and get wired the money and stones to a swiss account. Then desert and defect with the all six MiG-29 airframes to a designated US air base in Malaysia. He had a little chat with the CIA agent that was hidden by that dandy-looking Hong Konger by the name of Willis Huntley or what the people here called "One-leg Willy". Where he negotiated an amnesty agreement with the US authorities for himself and his family to live securely in the states after the transfer was complete.
Willis was eager because despite being late Cold War-era fighter hardware that the US intelligence department already had data pertaining to. It was the modern electronics package that were installed when the Russians refurbished the aircrafts, specifically what were the current Russian encodings for the Glosnass GPS system, their IFF frequencies for possible disguising of US warplanes infilitrating hostile airspace. There were also databanks that held the most modern updates in the Russian warplanes software for flight control and radar. Specs that would help the US fighter pilots in future engagements with airframes of the same type manned both by Russia and countries that adopted the aircraft. Intelligence was invaluable, worth more than its weight in gold.
In his talk with Willis, he was kind of distracted as well and only listened to the summary after. That most notable feature of Willis's was his struggle with the crutch. It indicated he wasn't always that way, rumors were that he discarded like a lizard shedding its tail to cheat death at the hands of their frightening employer. Frightening. He, Winnefred Coriolanus was a veteran of many bush wars and African conflicts including a Thai-Cambodian conflict. He had seen every possible shit out there and survived, giving him the right to be called badass.
But that demon, Badala. He accidentally heard Khalid mention he had dealings with Russian FSB, and a long spar history with the CIA to which they were the losers. Just recently, he did something that no one in the right mind would do, not even the most foolhardy of nations. Israel fighting for independence against its numerically superior arab neighbours, his own home country fighting communism spreading in Africa, or the legendary Winter War of Finland fighting off Soviet Union.
He was the one that initiated a fight with People's Republic of China knowing full well they would accept. And the Chinese didn't fight like their Western Counterparts. It was all or nothing for them, they'd sacrifice everything for a victory even at the cost of heavy casualties because the humiliation of defeat was worst than an abysmal victory. Korean War proved that. And this devil sent them packing after a few words and a massacre of a city and escaping civilians with just his barehands.
-I've done nothing wrong. Anyone in the right frame of mind would've done as I did. Hell-…. I've done above and beyond already!-
All he had to do was drop this payload of fuel-air explosives and let pressure and scorching heat do the rest- (Bebebebebe-) His laser warning system reported a radar lock on his airframe.
-What?!- He had no time to think, so he let instinct meld with training take over. "Dispensing flares!" As he stated, the countermeasure kit fired off a heavy dose of chaff to fool the infrared missile if it was already on the way.
But no missile came.
(Brrrrrrrrrrrr) (BOOM)
Instead, a fireball ingited to his left and plummeted to the earth. That fireball was once Kestrel 2-4. A distinct roar of engines resounded as a shadow flew pass them, evidently because of its more powerful thrust its engine could produce.
A silhouette sped pass his one o clock and vanished into the clouds
*Enemy just passed us! Boss! What do we do?!* His last wingman stated the obvious in a grave panic for the lack of combat he was exposed to.
But from the general outline of the silhouette, he could tell it was a heavy fighter. Two-seater. It was clear as day who it was.
"Eagle….." He murmured under his breath as he concluded the result of his theory. The 1st Fighter Squadron, the Indian pilots.
-Shit! This wasn't supposed to happen!-
And then, his intercom broke silence to speak with him.
*This is Eagle 1-3 to Winnie the snitch and friends- now just friend. I'm your host Ravindra and in the backseat is Arun. We've here to bring you a whole wing of AAM surprise. So get your asshole lubbed, Randhwa! (Man-whore)*
"…. And this is Arun in the backseat? Did you just throw that together like we were something else together in your list of gay joke insults? You're a fucking moron." Arun insulted his clumsy wit for insults.
"Arun-…(Sigh) details man. Details." He exclaimed whilst skilful but risky bleeding of speed just at the right moment to let them pass him.
"Madarchod, just kill this bastard already! Don't play with your food!"
"Aye aye. Don't need to get flustered, I'm on it."
*Pravindra, the Indian hotshot. I should've known you would be the one Amar would send.*
It looked like Pravi had gotten him into a talking mood.
"Yo! Oh, yes. Hello friend-….." Pravindra directed his airframe to chase the wingman of Winnefred's Kestrel 2-5.
(Beep) (Beep) (Beeeeeeeeee-)
His infrared locked on to the tail of the wingman. "Bye bye." Pravindra fired off his infrared at the wingman, completely disregarding the use of proper calls.
*WINNEFR- (BOOOM)(Static)* The wingman screamed his last.
He was stuck with making a high-g manuever and had no chance to release flares when the missile chased him and annihilated the wingman.
The intercom went quiet for the time being, no words were carried until Pravindra was the first to break silence.
"You know what I hate worst than mercs, Winnie? Worse than lazy incompetent bastards that slouch on daily routine. Worse than lousy pilots who aren't even brave enough to admit they aren't up to scratch. Worse than corrupted officials wasting taxpayers' money to fund a private lifestyle?" Pravindra suddenly changed into a serious mood, even Arun noticed that.
The intercom was silent as Kestrel 2-1 flew behind Pravi to get a lock-on and kill, though Pravindra effortlessly dodged his tracking radar.
"I hate people that not only bite the hand that fed them, but steals from them as well. You fucking thief."
*And you're an annoying do-gooder. What would you know?* Pravindra fired his dose of flares to break the incoming infrared missile which flew out of direction.
"I don't. And I never will. So just die here, weasel." He entered a barrel roll when Winnefred carelessly tunnel visioned on him to get a lock. Despite a long career in the air, Winnefred had not recently had any airtime to reacquaint his skills. This was supposed to be a simple bombing-run, and now that the situation had taken a turn it became a dog-fight.
*You goddamn moral warriors, I never asked to be in this situation. I served my country as you did! Nine years, damn it! And six campaigns! And where did it all go?! To that bitch who framed me! But you know what? I'm not even mad, I'm glad she screwed me for her limited career opportunity, 'cause it's widen my perspective a little. It taught me that no matter the employer, always have a contingency at the right time.*
Multiple beeps of new incoming targets entered the scene on Pravi's HUD display.
"Prav!?" Arun called out to him on the new boogeys
"Tsh!"
*Right now was the perfect time to cash-in. When these petty disputes burst into a full-on Civil War, none of us want to be in the centre of that!* Winnefred had intentionally left the comms on for his Squadron to come and assist him. They'd delayed their bombing attacks to overpower Eagle 1-3.
"This has become something of a-."
"I know- shut up!" Pravindra was now deadly focus on the three fighters that had appeared to rejoin the formation with Winnefred. Only-… *I'll leave these boys in my place. Now, if you'll excuse me. I have a fortress that needs bombing.* Winnefred declared as he flew off to complete his job before flying off to safety.
Pravindra knew they were too closely packed to allow him to reach Winnefred so he reorganised his thoughts upon destroying the rest of the Squadron. An evil smile ran across his face, three vs one was not uncommon occurances for him, the question was how competent did Winnie think his partners in crime were.
Two aircraft zipped by him while one gave chase behind him.
"Oh my god…" Arun lamented as he didn't share the same view.
Pravi's focus was on the fighter chasing him from behind while the rest took time to circle around to meet him. He fired one Infrared missile and a two second burst of the 30mm cannon, leaving him with one infrared, four semi-active radar and two active radar missiles. Arun helped confirm the inventory left and adjusted the preference of weapons for each target of opportunity for him in advance.
With the fighter frantically trying to get away from him now that he was just a few hundred metres from him. Pravi fired a lucky clutch shot from his 30 mil and managed to graze the starboard wing which shredded under the weight of the extensive load of bombs it carried. The fighter he downed effortlessly plummeted to the surface and exploded with an unimaginable force due to setting of its explosive payload.
"Right, let's get to work shall we." He smiled at a good start. After all that Winnefred said, it didn't change the fact that he was going to shoot him down here and now. The pride of the IAF was at stake just as the integrate state of Kyrat without its leadership taking the reigns as they should be.
He just hoped that his fellow pilots and Commander were fairing well against the likely Rebels poised to retake the airbase. After all, he who controlled the airspace ruled the land.
The sound of the firefight grew closer and closer to the storage area where Noore, Kanaan and the Nurses were. Noore peeked around the corner ever-vigilant for any enemies that may have flanked around the catacombs to reach them.
Ricardo and Samson were actually quite far from their location, the purpose was to mislead the attackers into thinking they were all somewhere in one of her former private chambers. Some rooms, they booby trapped while they withdrew a distance.
Noore turned back to look at her helpless employees wearing worrisome faces, they shouldn't have been here with them. Yet she brought them in case Ajay's condition were to spiral out of control. Perhaps if Jeevan were here, it would've made more of a difference. Though not official, Ajay had always commented on Jeevan's progress. Among the more curious things was his good cognitive abilities meshed with tenacity. Rare attribites that made him a talented soldier given the resources and faith in his abilities.
Jeevan had even "killed" Sabal once before while remaining ignorant to Sabal's changed state. Er Hu was saying the samething, albeit because he had the desire to make him his son-in-law. Noore made eye contact with Kanaan who was quieter than for her own good and gave her an assuring smile to hopefully change some perspective to their truly dire state.
Who would have thought that Bipin was aligned to the Cantons. Even though something didn't seem right, she was finding it strange. Upon returning from Yinke, Bipin had been brought to her for a checkup. She diagnosed his condition for being PTSD based on what he confessed and the accounts from Maya and Ajay. It was out of her study, and would only be treated if Bipin sought means to address it himself. So she gave him medical leave for two weeks to rest and recuperate, he earned it after all. Despite that, it was his Commander Samuelle that earned the prestige that he won for them. Bipin had changed drastically since his trip to Maharashtra and Noore wasn't sure what to make of it.
Speaking of Sam, where was she in all this? She was their commander first and foremost. Though she had expressed her advocation against being involved with the Canton Families, she even approached Ajay to show her support against them. The pieces of the puzzle floated around in her mind with no apparent answer.
Shadows of search groups began to appear in the far wall away from her, indicating they were closing in on their location.
"Doctor."
"Shhh." She quietened them as they tapped her on the shoulder.
"Doctor, as it stands they'll find us soon."
"…."
"We have a plan."
"No. I won't allow it!" As if she knew what they were about to say, she forbate them from creating a diversion that could cost them their lives, lives that weren't worth wasting over.
"Doctor, at this rate they'll find us and his grace in no time. This isn't the time to get emotional."
"We know, Lady Najjar is worried for us." A female nurse assured her of their state of mind.
"We didn't go this far just to quit, let us help every way we can."
Noore's heart was yet reluctant to send them to their deaths, she realised how Ajay had been doing that almost everyday and begun to understand how heavy it weighed being him. Even if he wronged Pagan before, it didn't mean he had to do all of this and yet he did. She really wished he would just open his eyes now to take the burden of her shoulders even if it was cruel to ask more of him. But he was her accomplice as she was to him, they were meant to share the workload.
"What do you have in mind?" She finally gave in and listened attentively as they whispered their instructions to her.
Fifteen minutes had passed since then, and the Special Deep Strike Group specops were nowhere near finding Badala amidst the chaos created in the maze-like catacombs. But it became apparent why they chose to hide here where even the most well-trained trackers had difficulty finding him. All they encountered were the Italian Mercenaries. The Commander shouted a proposal for them to be given four times their annual wage to show them where he was and one of them responded something in Italian. Which they took as a sign they weren't complying, but it just went to show how much loyalty they had to either Badala or their professionalism in their employment.
Ricardo hid behind the support pillars, he was on his way to Noore's but noticed they were trackng his movements to get a fix on Badala's location. So he stopped all attempts to return and focused on throwing them off. But it was getting difficult to fight them alone, Luca was up top getting a signal to make an encrypted call for heli-evac from Kamran who disappeared of the grid temporarily.
The rest of his mates were most likely organising a resistance to the rebels trying to take the Arsenal in Lakshman. And that damn Samson… Ricardo sighed. To think that he was already signing his death wish since that time. As much as he refused to believe it, it was a possibility. Samson spend more time than for his own good by his wife's grave even during his wedding day with Mrs Stella Allegretto.
Should he make his way back to Samson? His heart said that, but at the same time he had second thoughts about it. What if he put more strain on what Samson was handling my focusing the Rebels' attention to them both.
Samson might what to die but Ricardo certainly didn't want that, his wife would say the same thing. If he ever left him there she would never forgive him and neither would he himself. But the Rebels seem to have gotten the hand of these worthless diversions and started looking around while leaving some to suppress Samson on his own to prevent his interference. Again, who trained them?
"This way! Badala's here!"
A shout came from a shadow that echoed from a quarter nearby.
"Over here! He's here!"
"Don't listen to them, his right there!"
Voices from shadows appeared from all matters of corners that the sound of shooting stopped between Samson and Ricardo with the Rebel specops.
"Capture them, we'll interrogate them one by one." Ricardo could just make out what the commander said to his men.
He recognised some of the voices as the assistants of Noore.
-What are they doing?!-
"The demon is here!" they continued to mislead the Rebels.
Ricardo had a think about what they were doing then it made a little sense, they were dividing the Rebels further for them to kill off. It was risky if one of them got caught though, they always had ways of making them talk. Ricardo was also taught a trick like that too so he knew.
Ricardo sighed. Noore was both an amazing woman but also a handful. Not like his Stella, always a mother hen that kinda annoyed him at times though.
(Bababaam) He heard gunfire coming from a different direction for where the Rebels were and understood what they were really doing.
-Nonono! Noore! These fellas aren't so amateur!- He rushed off into the general direction of the weapons discharge that matched the MP5 Noore was given. She was trying to kill them off as well by luring them into a perfect shooting condition for him.
Noore was unaware of what were Ricardo and most certainly Samson's opinion of her actions. On her end, she'd successfully lured one soldier and killed him off with a burst. The nurse that misled the trooper exchanged a thumbs-up with her and was about to leave when-
(Bababaam) His body was peppered with shots and slowly crumbled to the ground dead.
Noore hugged the wall to conceal herself from the approaching team now changing their tactics to three-man search teams.
"Over here! The-." One of her nurses were unaware of what happened and popped out to announce herself.
"NO! GET OUT!" Noore screamed as she fired her weapon to suppress the soldiers but all she achieved despite the nurse running to safety were shots that couldn't hit the right side of a barn and hardly phased the elite troopers.
One soldier took a precision shot to her shoulder and grazed it. The gun fell to her feet as she did with a hand to her shoulder dyed in red. The soldiers cautiously approached her and one struck her on the forehead with the butt of his rifle. She instantly passed out.
She received a rude awakening by means of a punch to her face. "Urghh! You goddamn brutes! Hitting a woman!"
"Noore Najjar, where is Badala?" The Commander interrogated her with a straightforwards request.
"Pft! You know who I am yet you treat me this way!" She spat out blood at him.
The Commander pinched her wound causing her to yelp in pain. "Irrelevant, where is Badala? I hope you're more adept to pain that I think you are." The Commander threatened further torture but she held her defiance in place.
"You lot are with Yuma, so why are you aligned with the Lords?"
"Where is Badala?" The Commander motioned his man on the right who was heating his blade for the extended part of her physical torture
"You'll have to ply it from me!"
"Great, we were looking forward to it. It wouldn't be sporting if you just gave in."
The soldier approached with his knife now red hot.
"Just so you know, this isn't for your wound." The Commander made a motion that he was going to have his subordinate disfigure her face with the crisscross action on his own.
"Fine! I don't need looks, I'm too old for a flame anyway!" She shouted boldly.
The Commander chuckled at her statement. But wasn't expecting the next line from elsewhere.
"That's not a fair statement, Noore. Even you deserve some affection." A familiar voice echoed out from the catacombs. The specops soldiers stood up and scanned the surroundings with darting eyes. And a renewed wariness to the one they were seeking having to finally awaken much to their fears.
Thumps could be heard as some of the troopers whom were standing at the corridors fell to the ground a bloodly mess without some much as a cry or wail in agony. The Commander ordered them to spread out while he attended to Noore. He tied Noore to the pillar. "Don't you think about anything." He warned before his intentions of joining his men.
But as he turned around, he bore witness to their mangled corpses lying around the catacomb just a few feet from where he was and he didn't even hear a sound. Except for the last sentence he would ever hear from someone again.
"Tinker, tailor, soldier, traitor…." The Commander of the Special Deep Strike Group turned to face the voice in at his back where he previously tied Noore. "Gurrrgggggghhhh-…" A knife plunged deep into his chest on his left, held by the person he was supposed to kill whilst still inactive. The Commander was being held in place by a hand on his shoulder and a knife in his heart as the person that ended his life finished his rhyme.
"... I feast upon all that turn knives towards their king in favour."
