(Walks out, completely transparent.)
Hello people, coming to you today from...beyond the grave. My congratulations to you, Paska, and your mastery of nuclear overkill, my remains are currently being dustbusted and placed into an urn, which will be ship to your home to place on your mantle as a trophy, and I extend my thanks for making my death so neigh instantaneous that I did not have time to feel it. (bows politely)
On another note, I apologize for taking so long to get this chapter out. First, the extended labor day weekend turned out not to be the break that I was hoping for. You see, someone recently bought the property next to where we live, and they hired a few surveyors who apparently up and decided that the boundaries and property markers that had been in place for the past quarter century were wrong, and that the drive way we used and the sixty odd bushes that my mother had planted over the years were apparently two and a half feet on his land. So we had to drop everything, rent a back hoe, and move it all in three days. On top of that, my computer managed to somehow delete the story once I was about halfway through it, so I had to start all over again.
But, enough about my problems.
To those of you who have been kind enough to review.
Hybrid- Glad you liked it, wasn't sure how well people would react to Jynx being in the Deltas, so its good to know that I'm not going to be strung up from a stout oak branch for sticking him in the military. (laughs nervously).
Lunatic Pandora1- Yeah, there weren't a whole lot of sabers in that game, but look on the bright side, can you imagine having to try and take on a fully functional General Grievous with a gun? (shudders). As far as D.J. being a berserker, that doesn't sound like a bad idea, and I think I know how to make that work, thank you.
Paska- Yes, I realize how much I've been taking from other games and books. It's my biggest flaw and one of the reasons why I really don't consider myself a very good author, as for the life of me I cannot come up with decent names and weapon ideas that don't wind up sounding like something out of a B-grade science fiction novel. That's why I've taken so much from Halo and whatnot for use in the elven military, I just couldn't think of anything original that would do them justice. I'm sorry if I've upset you by doing this. I really like your input and respect your opinion very highly. So I wish to very politely ask for your advice, what do you think I should do?
Shakai- Trust me, you'll be seeing more of the pyromaniac, both in this story, and in the game itself. As for the collection money, dear heavens how I hated that mission. Though I feel I should warn you not to try and kick Krew, you foot might get sucked into the copious amount of fat that he has and...well...you can probably use your imagination for the rest of it though. Don't worry about that flying zeppelin to much though, he'll get what's coming to him.
Exardas- I'm glad that you liked the last chapter, and that you think so highly of me. I managed to find time to review your DMC/HP crossover, and I hope you found the advice useful, as I've never been to sure on advising others. Still, though, I hope you like this chapter, and I wish you luck in your own writings.
Light-Eco-Sage- I'm glad that you liked the chapter, and rest assured, Jak will eventually get some sense knocked into him. I'm also happy with the progress that you're making on your own stories, and I'm anxious to see what happens. Hope that this chapter has enough gore and whatnot to keep you happy, let me know if it was, okay?
To those of you who read but did not review, I hope you found the work of this amateur to be worth your time, and that I have not inadvertently insulted someone in some fashion.
Plus, special thanks goes out to Evil Manic for his ideas regarding Flash-Bang grenades. And Farr2rich for a utility belt that will be used.
To the Lawyers: look, I think by now I have established the fact that I don't own jack-squat, so leave me alone.
That accomplished, here's the next chapter, and it's a doozy. Hope you find it worth your while.
&
A Delta's Honor, Part Two: "Storming the Beaches"
The wasteland rushed by as the drop ship zoomed towards its destination, mere feet from the ground. Within it, hanging on to the grips of their seats with one hand, were four brothers in arms, currently listening to a last minute, in flight briefing from their C.O., who had apparently been able to pull a few more strings to come along. From the relative safety of one of the larger ships, which would serve as a in the field general headquarters during the assault, they would be provided up to the minute information of the ongoing struggle between their K.G. comrades and their freakish adversaries.
"Finally, make certain that you have the Havocs planted properly, or the tunnel might not come down like we're hoping." Walon said, earning somber nods from all present, even though the Colonel couldn't see them.
After that, he went quiet, though the comm. line stayed open, leaving each Delta to his own thoughts. This was, without a doubt, the single most dangerous mission that the elite squadrons had ever embarked upon. After all, they were about to be dumped into the middle of hostile territory, complete cut off from assistance save for their uplink to Command, with the odds being somewhere in the area of thousands to one. Nevertheless, they were prepared, and as all veteran soldiers had, had stared Death in the face enough times to realize that there was indeed a very good possibility they would be coming home in a body bag, if at all.
Such thoughts were pushed aside, once the pilot leaned back around and announced their imminent arrival to their drop point. From behind his visor, Torn glanced to his brothers, and made a series of rapid hand gestures. While to the average person it may have appeared as though he had just had a bizarre sort of seizure, his squad mates were able to understand approximately five sentences worth of information from the signals. As per his orders, inter-squad comm. lines were checked, external speakers were switched off, and suppressors were added to their weapons.
Thirty seconds later, the drop-ship underwent a deceleration that would have thrown them out of their seats had they not been hanging on. Then, in an almost ominous fashion, the rear door opened, spilling sun light into the troop compartment. Before the pilot even had time to turn the ship around, the four grey armored soldiers had already planted their feet back on the miracle that was terra firma.
As their ride did a one eighty and sped back the way it came, Torn once again issued the complicated and intricate hand signal's that were their means of communicating amongst each other before enemy contact. True, they did possess their private comm. lines for speaking to each other, but this was still the preferred method. After all, one never knew when Murphy's Law could rear its ugly head and some system quirk or electronic bug might inadvertently carry what should have been a message to be heard only by the squad to the external speakers, resulting in every enemy within earshot suddenly realizing that they were not alone. This when combined with the fact that surprise was such a critical factor in success when operating in these small black ops style groups, called for strict adherence to certain rules.
'Oh Five, take point, and keep you're eyes open for any hostiles.' the squad leader signaled, before turning to his other two comrades. 'Twenty Eight, stay three yards to my six. Sixty Seven, same rules, now move!'
Some time passed, with no enemy contact for them, for which they were grateful. Still, this was the very heart of Metal Head territory, making it just a matter of time before their infantry and armor divisions started to engage the enemy. Therefore, it was imperative that they reach their target as quickly as they possibly could, and eliminate it.
So it came as a welcome relief when they finally reached the canyon that lead down to their target. As soon as they got close, Hunter dropped down to his belly, and began to slither forward, while the other squad members also made themselves prone. Slowly, and ever so carefully, the marksman crawled up behind a small boulder that was sticking up, and peeked around it. Chinning a button located within his helmet, he activated his macro-binoculars, and peered around.
His blood began to boil, burning in anticipation of the battle that was to come. Still, he did not raise his sniper rifle, and instead opted to make his way back towards his brothers, who had by now come up close around their leader.
'Well?' Torn inquired.
'Plenty of hostiles to go around.' Hunter signed, before going on to explain exactly what they were up against. 'Looks like a standard Metal Head guard formation, three Crab Heads, a mixture of about thirty or so Grunts and Drones, and seven Centurions.'
Torn remained where he was, pondering the best course of action. They wanted to be as quiet as they possibly could be, given the gravity of their assignment and the fact that since this was home base for the enemy, they could rest assured that they were outnumbered to the point where it wasn't even funny. Still, they also needed to move fast, and there was the chance that they didn't have any more of their kin stationed just at the tunnel entrance, and therefore a couple of grenades might be able to be used without alerting anyone else. However, for safety's sake, use of Ackerson's fuel rod cannon was effectively out of the question.
Finally, he reached a decision, and issued a series of rapid fired hand gestures. Nodding in understanding, his brothers went to carry out their orders. Once again crawling, but spreading themselves out in the process, the four Deltas lined themselves up along different areas of the canyons edge. As instructed, Jynx put away his DC-17s, and withdrew a plasmite grenade. Looking over to Torn, he awaited his signal to use them. That signal came once Hunter had shouldered his rifle, and Ackerson had his own grenade ready. The pyromaniac then activated the tiny explosive, which was on a delayed fuse, meaning it would not activate until it came to a stop, before chucking it down into the ravine behind him.
As had been planned, it landed next to a group of Metal Heads, Grunts to be more specific. Curiosity getting the better of them, they moved over and surrounded the strange device. Now, it was well known that Grunts were not to be noted for their intelligence, as they and their lesser Drone brethrens' predominant purpose in life was to swarm over the enemy through sheer numbers. Thus, when the grenade suddenly ignited, and began to burn with a silent, blue flame, they simply stared at each other, not knowing what to do.
The grenade exploded, killing all within the group, as did the other one tossed by Ackerson, which had landed at the other end of the groups. The result was for the two explosions to eliminate those not standing around the rough 'center' of the patrol, which had by now become confused, and were very quickly about to become corpses.
With coordination honed by years of working together and countless firefights, the squad went to work. Hunter was fast enough to drop the Crab Heads with his sniping skills before they were even truly aware of what was going on, while Torn and Ackerson shouldered their assault rifles and concentrated on wiping out the centurions. Jynx, meanwhile, had redrawn a single submachine gun, to allow for better accuracy at the range he was currently at, and began to target the lesser foes, who would fall more easily to large bursts of fire not necessarily directed to a single area.
In less than half a minute, all were dead, or currently thrashing about in their death throes. Once again, Torn flashed out the signals, and the squadron complied.
All Deltas went into battle with a harness and repelling equipment, for instances just such as these. And now, that bit of hardware was broken out, with reel being secured to the canyon's upper surface, while the harness was quickly fastened around their waists, much as a belt would be.
That accomplished, the four brothers quickly began to repel themselves down the wall of the ravine, moving as fast as they could without compromising safety, which was a rather fine line indeed, as one never knew if more enemies might just happen upon them while they were in the middle of this. Needless to say, such an event was quite high on their lists of things to try and avoid, as they would literally be like fish in a barrel.
Fortunately, no hazards of that nature befell them, nor did anyone snag their line. Matter of fact, things happened as smoothly as they did in a training holo-vid, which was a rarity out in the real world. As soon as their feet touched the ground, the squad liberated themselves from their repelling harnesses, and resumed their formation, heading towards their target, which could be seen approximately half a click down the canyon.
Abruptly, their comm. units crackled and Walon's voice was suddenly heard in their helmets.
"Better step it up, boys." he growled. "First division's already wading through these guys, while Second and Third are initiating first contact. It's only a matter of time before they start sending their forces up through those tunnels, so step on it or you're going to be facing an army of the blasted things."
The comm. line then switched off. No words were exchanged amongst the grey armored warriors, as all of them promptly began to double time it towards their goal.
According to the readouts provided during their briefing, the optimal place for the charges to be set in order to ensure a cave in would begin approximately three hundred yards inside of the tunnels, and finish at about four hundred, set on both sides of the cavern at twenty yard intervals, with two extra left over in case something went awry. This meant twelve hundred feet of pitch blackness, thankfully a non-issue due to the night vision enchantments on their helmets, and more importantly, potentially twelve hundred feet of pissed off Metal Heads to wade through.
Two minutes later, darkness enveloped the squad, and the ground sloped downward, as if it were a path leading into the depths of Hell itself. Almost simultaneously, the four brothers switched to night vision, and the world became a harsh contrast of varying shades of green and black.
Thus far the tunnel was deserted, how long it would remain so, was yet to be seen.
Knowing that every second counted, they pressed forward until reaching the farthest set up point. Hastily, Jynx holstered his twin submachine guns, and withdrew a Havoc, setting it along the cavern wall, hurriedly running through the priming process. Approximately twenty seconds later, he was finished, which meant one down, nine to go.
The team's demo expert quickly hot-footed it across the cavern to the other side whereupon he repeated the process, and armed a second charge. From there, they backpedaled to the next location, their eyes and ears constantly on the look out for potential threats.
Their alertness would serve them well, as it was after Sixty Seven had placed charge number four, that Hunter felt a vibration in the ground, and quickly brought up his sniper rifle, staring down the optical scope.
"Slag." he muttered, breaking the radio silence. "Heads up, squad, here they come."
Jynx uttered a curse, before dashing back to plant the fifth Havoc, while his three squad mates tucked themselves as far back into some recesses in the walls as they could. Rule number eight: always make use of any and all cover that is available.
The tunnel had a bend in it about a thousand feet from where they were, and it was around that that the first ranks of the enemy charged. As per usual, it was Grunts and Drones bringing up the front, playing their ever vital roll of cannon fodder. It was a role that they were to quickly fulfill, as several dropped from headshots, courtesy of Oh Five's incredible marksman skills.
Intellectually challenged as the average Grunt or Drone was, they were quick to realize that they were not alone, which was to say nothing of the Centurions or their Crab Head commanders, who quickly activated and raised their energy shields or began to bark out orders and return fire, respectively.
The swarming hordes of enemies were quickly within seven hundred feet of the four Deltas, which brought them into range of Torn and Ackerson's BR55's, and soon their muffled coughs could be heard joining the sound of Hunter's suppressed sniper rifle. Looking out over the vast numbers of enemies, Torn was very glad that their utility belts allowed for them to carry such a large amount of ammunition, as they were likely going to need ever last shot.
Meanwhile, Jynx, coincidentally enough, was on Havoc number seven, working as fast as he could to set up the charges while at the same time, not do something that would get the whole squad killed.
However, the encroaching tide of enemies would do that readily enough, as they got to within five hundred feet of the four brothers despite the fire being thrown at them. Something had to be done to push them back, or the mission would be a failure. Fortunately, that something came with one expertly placed order.
"Hunter, Ackerson!" Torn shouted over their private comm. line, and getting his assenting responses just as the marksman blew the head off of a Crab Head, and Twenty Eight dropped a pair of Drones. "Engage gamma maneuver!"
"Affirmative!" Hunter growled back, shifting his rifle over to his left hand while drawing and activating strange looking grenade, before hurling it, and another immediately thereafter, at the incoming horde.
The two grenades bounced and rolled down the incline of the tunnel, passing by the pack leaders, who apparently thought nothing of it, seeing as how it had not ignited in the strange blue flame that they normally did. However, the Metal Head commanders quickly regretted their mutual decision once a blinding flash and deafening roar filled the cavern. As the flash bangs left them sightless and disoriented, Ackerson came in to fill his role in the maneuver. Leaning out from behind his cover, the heavy weapons specialist brought his massive fuel rod cannon to bear upon the now very much helpless Metal Heads.
He fired once, twice, three times, and like green comets, the shots streaked towards their foes. The tunnel that they were in was fairly narrow, relatively speaking, and thus, forced the Delta's foes to come at them in tightly compacted groups for the most part, something that made what was about to happen all the more devastating.
The ground shook, and a the whole cavern vibrated slightly as the anti-armor rounds hit home upon their targets, slaughtering dozens and effectively throwing the remainder of the Metal Head front lines into a chaos driven panic. Torn, Hunter, and Ackerson were quick to capitalize on this, backpedaling as Jynx went to place the final two explosives. Unfortunately, the Crab Heads were just as quick to get their troops back under control, and once more send them at these elves who had dared to try and breach their home.
"Jynx," Torn growled over the comm. line as he sent a few more enemies packing, "step on it or these things are going to be running all over us!"
"Listen, leader-man, don't rush me!" the pyromaniac shot back. "This is delicate work here, if I screw this up, we're all going to get blasted back to our component atoms!"
"Could you perhaps be whining a little less loudly?" Hunter inquired in an irritated tone, as he sniped yet another Crab Head. "You are making it quite difficult for me to keep track of my kills."
"Concentrate on the mission, Oh Five, not your kill count." Ackerson said, getting a 'bah' in response from the marksman.
The enemy was close now, much too close for any of their likings. In a desperate move, Torn shouted an order for Twenty Eight to follow his lead, and ignoring vicious return fire, he leaned out, cocked the M-404 launcher on his rifle, and pulled the trigger. The launcher instantly spat out a grenade, sending it directly into the center formation. Ackerson's own launcher also belched out its explosive payload, and both fired again, once more putting them into a temporary confusion. Another Crab Head quickly tried to assume control of the situation, but was, much to the elves' relief, quickly relieved of its command, as a high velocity bolt of energy applied to the head had an annoying tendency to do such a thing.
As they reformed their lines again, though, some unexpected help joined in. As they charged them, several suppressed bursts of gunfire came from behind the three Deltas. Torn looked back over his shoulder to see Jynx coming in to get some of the action, firing his twin submachine guns in quick, rapid bursts, and chewing through the rank and file of the enemy.
Knowing that the demolitions expert would have only joined in the firefight if he had completed his primary mission, Torn issued a fall back command, and the squad made a prompt break for it, ignoring the shots that hit home on them, letting their armor do what it was made to do, and leaving a few nasty surprises behind the form of yet more delayed fuse grenades.
They charged towards the light of the surface, beckoning to them like a beacon. Praying that they were far enough away, Torn looked over his shoulder to Jynx, and issued the one command that would make or break their mission.
"Blow em!" he shouted, and got a nod from the pyromaniac in return.
"One super-sized explosion with a side order of fried Metal Head, coming right up, Boss." Delta Sixty Seven replied, holstering a DC-17 and brining out his detonator.
The demolitions expert then held down the trigger on the device, and depressed the two thumb buttons, sending a burst transmission to the M9-DPs' transceivers. The end result was a fireball of near apocalyptic proportions. In fact, the blast was so great, that even from the distance they were at, the Deltas could feel it, and the shockwave nearly drove them to their knees.
However, realizing that stumbling and falling would mean certain death, possibly at the hands of the Metal Heads practically nipping at their heels, if not from the fact that the sky was falling, they forced themselves to remain upright, and hauling tail out of the tunnel. Fortunately, for the moment, most of the Metal Heads seemed more concerned about saving their own lives than slaying the intruders that were currently a few steps ahead of them.
They passed the boundary of the cavern, leading them out to the surface and relative safety. Not hesitating an instant, Torn ordered his brothers into action, and they brought their weapons about on the enemies that had managed to escape being crushed.
They were still surprised from the devastation that the Deltas had unleashed upon their kin, and weren't expecting this fierce resistance so quickly. Caught out in the open and with their guard down, they never stood a chance, and most fell where they stood.
Their foes destroyed and their first job done, the four elite warriors immediately headed back for their repelling equipment.
"Delta Forty Two reporting in, mission accomplished." Torn said over the comm. channel, telling the Colonel of his squad's success.
"Good job, Lieutenant Commander," Walon acknowledged, before going on to give them their next orders, "now, we need you to rendezvous with the Third Infantry Division. They're about seven clicks north, northwest of your current position, bearing three five oh."
"Understood, Sir." the squad leader growled.
Moments later, the group was sprinting across the wasteland, making a beeline for their crimson armored brothers in arms.
Ten Minutes, and two kilometers later, the squad got buzzed by their superiors again. Unfortunately this time, it was not for a proverbial slap on the back or anything of that nature.
"Delta Forty Two?" the Colonel inquired, his voice laced with no small amount of worry.
"Transmission acknowledged, Command." Torn responded, not breaking his stride.
"I'm afraid there has been a complication, solider." his superior said, before elaborating on what he meant. "Infantry scouts have reported that the enemy is wheeling out the big guns, Torresques are on the move."
"Please tell me I heard that wrong." Jynx muttered, attaching a muffled prayer to the end of his plea.
"For once, we agree on something." Ackerson concurred, paling underneath his helmet.
"Command," Torn growled, "was that last transmission a comm. malfunction?"
"Unfortunately, no, Lieutenant Commander." Colonel Vau said, his voice weary all of a sudden. "Set your macro-binoculars to maximum zoom and look about twenty seven degrees to your right, and you'll see them."
The whole squad did as instructed, and the next few seconds were filled with a colorful and diverse variety of language. It was understandable, after all, considering what was currently stomping its way towards Division Three.
A Torresque was the largest variety of Metal Head ever seen on the battle field, one many had reason to believe was even larger than their mysterious leader. Standing about equal with the average six story building, and weighing the better part of ten tons, most of it a fiendish combination of muscle and exoskeletal patches rivaling a Scorpion in thickness, it was like something out of a child's nightmare, especially when one added in the gaping maw full of fangs and talons larger than most of the elven population. They were capable of walking on either all four legs or rearing up on two, whatever fancy took them, and their tails were strong enough to overturn assault tanks. And then, to make such a beast an even more of lethal killing machine, they went into battle with a huge, howitzer style cannon on their backs, which was fired through some unknown means and capable of laying waste to rank and file K.G.
Now, take such a monster, and multiply by four, and you will be able to understand why the Deltas reacted as they did.
"I know how you feel, boys, but we need you to take care of those things." Walon said, knowing full well that he could very well be sending them straight to their deaths.
"Sir," Ackerson responded, his eyes glued to the four behemoths moving at an alarming pace, "with all due respect, that's a job better suited for a Scorpion tank."
"Yeah," Jynx piped up, mentally slapping himself for forgetting about that, "where the hell's the Seventh Battalion? Third Division should have more than enough armor support to take care of those things!"
"There's been a landslide since our latest reconnaissance sweep, and the path was too narrow for the M808's to get through, they had to take a detour and they're going to link up later. And air supports currently tangled up with their flyers, so not much of a chance in that department." The Colonel informed.
"Shouldn't they have their own anti-armor weapons?" Hunter inquired, utterly baffled.
"No, they don't." Walon muttered with a disgusted sigh, before spitting out another sentence like it was poison. "A certain local politician managed to somehow convince Damas that it would be unnecessary, given the presence of the tanks, and thus to equip them as such would be a waste."
"If, by some miracle, we live through this," a certain pyromaniac exclaimed, "Count Veger has some Molotov Cocktails with his name on em!" venting his frustrations on the one member of the Cabinet who could have possibly suggested such an idea.
"Bellyaching is not going to help us." Torn said, though he very much agreed with his squad-mate. "Alright, Deltas, lets move! Ackerson, have that fuel rod cannon cocked and locked by the time we get within range!"
"Affirmative," he responded, before adding in a much quieter tone, "though I don't know how in the hell I am going to take down four of those things with ten shots."
"Don't worry too much about that, Twenty Eight," Walon's voice crackled again. "Eighty Five and his squad have also completed their primary objective and are moving from the opposite direction, so you've got one ammo pack for each one."
Torn gave a mental sigh of relief, knowing that Anton and his men were alright, as the inter-squad comm. frequency lacked the power to communicate over the range in which the Deltas were spread out.
"Normally, doesn't performing the ole hammer and anvil trick require for both hammer and anvil to be bigger than what's about to be hit?" Jynx remarked aloud, not expecting, or receiving an answer.
Moving faster than they ever had before, knowing the massacre that would occur if those beasts plowed into the front lines of the Third Division, they sped across the plateau they were on, Ackerson ripping out his old power pack and slamming a new one into the massive anti-armor cannon.
At last, another fifteen minutes of record setting sprinting later, they were within half a click of the Torresques, who were currently perched on tops of either side of the canyon that the Third Division was heading down, and they knew, almost ready to open fire. Instantly, Delta Twenty Eight hit his knees, and lines up his first shot, targeting the closest behemoth. However, he didn't fire right away, his mind thinking back to the training vids they'd been shown in their earliest briefings in boot camp. He recalled the ones he'd seen that showed Scorpion tanks bringing those monsters down, remembered every twitch, every reflexive move they made when in pain, trying to calculate the way it was most likely to shift once the first shot, and its subsequent hit home. After all, Ackerson was quite well aware of the fact that what he was about to do had probably never been done before, pitting one soldier, against one of those gigantic Metal Heads. They'd been taken down by weapons like the one he was holding before, quite obviously, but there had always been significantly more elves present during such maneuvers.
Pushing his doubts aside, the heavy weapons specialist squeezed the trigger of the cannon. The first shot flew out of the barrel, and he quickly adjusted his aim and fired again, repeating the process until he had depleted his energy pack. And, at almost the same time, Torn beheld another set of comets shoot up, some distance off. Zooming in, he saw Anton's squad also launching a salvo at their own targets.
A roar that shook the very earth he stood on caused him to direct his attention back towards the Torresques that he was closest to. He was just in time to watch the first of the behemoths rear back as Ackerson's initial shot connected with the side of its head, putting it squarely in line with the second. Once more, Delta Twenty Eight had displayed his incredible abilities, as all five hit dead on. With a scream that was more like a whimper, it collapsed, Death taking it.
Unfortunately, the brutes weren't exactly stupid, and its companion turned its attention from the advancing elven army, to direct its attention towards a more immediate threat. There was a dark glow near the end of its howitzer, and Torn's eyes hit dinner plate size as he realized what was happening.
"Scatter!" he exclaimed, running away from where he was.
It was a move that the squad didn't need to be ordered to do twice. At the same time that the massive energy mortar was launched, he could hear Anton bellowing out a similar command to his own squad. However, he had bigger things to worry about at the moment, such as an energy shot the size of a zoomer coming down from above. Fortunately, the four brothers had managed to get sufficiently far enough away from the blast to suffer from nothing more than a sudden temperature rise of the surrounding area.
It was then, that their luck finally seemed to abandon them. A scream echoed over his comm., and from the communications that followed, it seemed as though Anton's own heavy weapons specialist, Samantha, had been attempting to reload her cannon when one of the surviving Torresques had lashed out with its tail. The only bit of solace that Torn could take from that bit of news, was that her death would have been quick, as the force behind such a swing would have crushed her body instantly, armor or not. Even worse, though, this left Anton and his two remaining squad members with anti-infantry weapons to try and bring the massive Metal Head down.
That already bad situation was then complicated by the emergence of the first ranks of the Third Division from around a bend in the ravine they were moving through. Noticing this, the Torresque closest to him roared, and another shot from its mortar streaked through the air. Hardly able to miss the mortar, the first lines of the rank and file infantry picked up their pace to a flat out sprint, a desperate bid to get past the blast radius before it hit. Some were successful in that endeavor, others were not, and the four brothers watched as half of a company, almost a hundred soldiers, were caught in the ensuing explosion, dead before they even had time to cry out.
Then, the massive behemoth did something that would have seemed impossible, given its tremendous size. It jumped from its position, firing off another blast as it did so, and landed in front of the elven columns.
His comm. crackled again, and Ackerson announced he had successfully reloaded, indicating that the entire situation, which seemed to have lasted for hours, was, in fact, merely seconds in duration. He looked back over to where Anton and his now sole remaining comrade were still pestering their Torresque with small arms fire, succeeding in doing little more than pissing it off, and then to the Krimzon Guard, who were about to be massacred by the other one.
It was then, that he made the hardest call of his life.
"Ackerson, target the one closest to us." he said, another death cry coming over the comm., leaving Anton by himself.
Wordlessly, Delta Twenty Eight hefted his anti-armor cannon, and ran over to his commander, and after a few more seconds, had launched his salvo at his target. Once again, all five hit, and the beast went down with a thunderous crash.
That threat averted, the four brothers zoomed in on the other Torresque, and watched as Anton barely managed to leap over its tail as it spun around, trying to crush this proverbial fly that was stinging it. It was a hopeless struggle, doomed to end in only one way, and Anton apparently knew it. His weapon empty, he tossed it aside, and drew out something else, an object that none of them could make out from this distance. For a few seconds he fiddled with it, before suddenly charging straight at the enormous Metal Head.
It appeared somewhat confused for a few seconds, before it snapped its head down, apparently deciding to devour this elf while it still lived. It was in for a nasty surprise.
For it was at that time, that Jynx realized what Anton had been doing, and with an expletive, announced his epiphany with the rest of the squad. At almost the same time, a blinding flash forced them to cover their eyes, as the two spare Havocs that the Delta had been carrying went off, effectively cremating him, and all but tearing the head off of the Torresque.
Stunned, unable to believe that four members of their brotherhood had just left this coil, they just stood where they were. Finally, a tear making its way down his face, thankfully hidden by his helmet, Torn brought his hand to his forehead, and offered a salute to his fallen friends.
"That's the reason everything's like it is today." the Underground commander muttered, his voice filled with pain, his eyes mirroring it. "I made that call, and set everything in motion."
"How so?" Jak inquired, still not fully understanding.
"Because," Torn answered, looking him in the eyes, "Praxis was leading the Third Division that day, from the front. His command group would have been among the first to get slaughtered by that Torresque."
The Ex-Delta then laughed bitterly, before continuing his self abuse.
"So, the next time you're wandering around the city, look around at the nightmare that it's become." he paused, lowering his head, and his voice becoming much softer. "A nightmare, that I, Lieutenant-Commander Daniel R. Torn, single handedly authored."
For a moment, Jak was stunned, unable to comprehend what Torn was telling him. Then, once his brain started its primary functions again, he was left with a dilemma on his hand. Some darker half of himself wanted to try and strangle the elf standing ten feet away from him. Fortunately for them both, another choice came to be, from a most unlikely source.
Couldn't…have known…
Again, somewhat startled over the massive leaps that his inner demon was taking in its cognitive capabilities, Jak found himself at a loss. In the end, though, he looked at Torn, and echoed the thoughts of the creature within himself.
"Why do you blame yourself? You couldn't have possibly known what was going to happen." the dark elf remarked, wondering how Torn had arrived at such an illogical conclusion now that he thought about it.
"That's easy for you to say." Torn replied, his voice almost breaking, and pain seemed written on his every feature.
It was then, that Jak finally seemed to understand just what it meant for Torn to open up to him like this. This was a memory that hurt the tattooed solider every time that he thought about it, and so, to tell it to someone like himself…well…it was, perhaps a sign of trust?
Such were his thoughts as the Ex-Delta began to tell his tale once more.
Repelling down to where the Third Division was, the four brothers quickly scooted about through the ranks, seeking out the commander of the elven forces. While searching, they noted the wounds of the Krimzon Guard members, and realized that even before they had reached this point, that there had been some rather intense fighting going on. Finally, the grey armored warriors were directed to the front of the group, where they found General Praxis at the head of the formation. Putting aside the agony he felt over the loss of his friends, Delta Forty Two ran up beside the General and saluted him while still running, and switching on his external speakers at the same time.
"Delta Forty Two and squad reporting in, Sir." he said, his tone respectful.
"Glad to have you with us." Praxis replied, offering him a grim smile.
"Oh, great, more of those wind up toy soldiers." came a snide voice to the side, and Torn beheld a red haired elf, captains bars on his shoulders marking his rank.
"Watch what you say, Errol," Praxis said, his tone grim, "those 'windup toys' just saved us from a rather nasty death, so show some respect."
"Yes sir." the captain answered, considerably more subdued.
Suddenly, Praxis' helmet comm. crackled, and a message only he could hear came over it. A swear came from the General indicating that whatever he had heard, it hadn't been good.
"What's wrong, Sir?" Torn inquired as he checked his rifle, opting for a reload during this brief lull in the action.
"It seems as though we lucked out and hit their weaker flank." the other elf growled, his grip on his rifle tightening. "Damas and his own men have run into some extremely entrenched enemy positions, and they're just refusing to give ground. Second Divisions doing even worse, even with their armor and air support doing their jobs, the division is still down to about fifty percent manpower."
The Delta uttered a quiet swear, knowing that was definitely not good, not this early in the game. Unfortunately, he couldn't dwell on that, or the possible reasons behind it, as a buzzing sound reached his ears, and he looked up just as aerial units swooped down and opened fire on the elven formations.
"Wasps, eleven o'clock high!" Ackerson shouted as the first shots began to connect.
Wasps were the smaller flying Metal Heads, and they couldn't take much as far as abuse was concerned. However, they compensated for their lack of armor with their agility, being able to change directions in mid-air almost instantly, and they were also deadly airborne marksmen. One of them fired a wrist mounted blaster, and a K.G. next to Jynx dropped, clawing at a face that was now longer there. Instantly, the division opened fire, and soon the Wasps were quite literally dropping like flies. After all, no matter how agile one is, it is difficult to avoid being shot when the blaster fire being thrown at you is practically thick enough to walk on.
Unfortunately, more of them came, and they were soon backed up by Guardians, the larger of the two flying species. These, vaguely resembled a kind of scarab beetle, and were the exact opposite of the more diminutive Wasps. Large, lumbering, and noted for being able to survive a direct hit from a Stinger missile, they were the Metal Heads aerial bombardment platforms, and were more biologically oriented than most of the other species, relying on a thick exoskeleton for protection, and somehow being able to spit out Dark Eco at extraordinarily high pressure, absolutely fatal to about ninety nine point nine percent of the elven population.
Their lethal 'breath weapon' was soon brought to bear upon the members of the Third Division, raining down from the skies and searing through flesh and armor alike. Within seconds, elves were screaming out their lives, dying in a fashion most would not have wished upon their worst enemies. Two of the large beasts came down low, ignoring the fire from rifles and sub machine guns as they strafed the elves, slaying dozens. In desperation, Torn tracked one of them, cocked his M-404 and fire a grenade.
The airborne explosive connected with the side of one of the Guardians, catching it in the neck right between a pair of armor plates, and for once, a small arms weapon managed to inflict some rather serious damage to the beast, compounded when Hunter managed to shoot out its eye moments later. Shortly thereafter, the massive amount of retaliatory fire finally managed to bring the Guardian down, but not before it took more elves to the grave with it.
Two down, dozens to go. Time seemed to slow for the Deltas, each second turning into hours once again. They could here the cries of the dying, hear Praxis screaming into his boom mike for air support to come bail them out, and collective swears from hundreds of elves as they tried to dispatch their attackers.
It was then that it happened. A Guardian landed in front of the General, who was still raging about their lack of top cover. He saw it inhale, beginning to unleash its breath weapon. While his squad scattered, he stood his ground, and leveled his own BR55. Cocking the barrel underneath it, he fired a plasmite grenade that connected directly between the massive beast's eyes. Torn too, launched the last grenade in his magazine, and went to reload, before he realized, to his horror, that the Guardian was still alive, if just barely. With its dying breath, it spat a stream of Dark Eco. Only then, did General Praxis leap to one side, but not soon enough to clear the shot in its entirety. Part of the stream brushed him along side his helmet, and ate through it in an instant.
Torn could only watch silently, as part of his superior's face melted and burned as the raw Dark Eco did its deadly work. Screaming in agony, Praxis ripped his helmet off, an act that no doubt saved his life, as it took most of the toxic substance with it. Within a few moments of him doing that, the General's protective head gear had been reduced to a puddle of dissolved and hissing metal.
Despite the obvious agony that he must have been in, Praxis growled, and rose to his fee, his teeth clinched in an attempt to will away the pain from the garish wound. Still, he once again gripped his rifle, and called for his men to press forward and engage their attackers. Very quickly, the Krimzon Guard rallied around their battered, now half blind, but still kicking leader, and a hail of blaster fire was quickly thrown into the air. The General himself quickly blew a quartet of Wasps out of the sky before they eve knew they were being targeted.
Even above that, a most welcome sound could soon be heard. A metallic shrieking filled the air, and the Delta looked up to watch as nearly a hundred Hellcat cruisers suddenly dived out of the clouds and down onto the Wasps and Guardians, their quad lasers and other weapons tracking the many hostiles.
"Took em long enough." Praxis growled, gunning down another airborne adversary, before calling for the elves to press the attack regardless of their losses.
The men hurried to obey their General's order, charging forward while the Hellcats kept the fliers tangled up. Still, even the mighty K.G. gunships were not more than a match for the Guardians, who quickly began to redirect their fire at the cruisers, and several were quickly shot down, trailing smoke and fire. A couple of them, in fact, came down on top of the infantry that they were supposed to be protecting.
"If they gotta crash, could they kindly not do it near us?" Jynx exclaimed, pulling out a piece of shrapnel that had penetrated his Katarn armor, coming within a hairsbreadth of gutting him.
"So, what happened next?" Jak inquired, cocking his head slightly.
"Things went from bad to worse." Torn replied, shaking his head. "We kept pushing forward, despite our losses, even when some of the more common Metal Heads started literally popping out of the ground." The Ex-Delta then paused, once again thinking of how best to say what came next. "In the end, though, it didn't really matter. We'd almost reached our rendezvous point with the First Division, when Damas gave a fallback order."
"He gave the order to retreat?" the dark elf said, somewhat puzzled.
"Third Division had it easy, and even we were taking a pounding. The Second got swarmed and the K.G. there torn apart, armor and air support right along with em. When it was all over, they were able to fallback with about a quarter of their original numbers."
"What caused that?" Jak said, his curiosity growing, though a growing sense of dread had lead him to already reach a fairly good conclusion.
"We found out later," Torn said, his voice soft and his eyes glistening, "that the Delta squad sent to seal off the tunnel in that area got overrun before they could finish the job. They blew what they had set up while they were still inside, but just managed a partial cave in. In one mission, half of my brothers and sisters fell. But that wasn't even the worse thing to happen that day."
The four brothers were bringing up the rear of the retreat, accompanying General Praxis. It had been a grueling withdrawal, the Metal Heads coming out of nowhere at all times, trying to cut them off, trying to sow panic and chaos through the ranks. Generally speaking, they were doing their jobs quite well, and officers were finding it difficult to prevent the retreat from turning into a full fledged route. Finally, after twelve kilometers of sheer hell, they reached the central branch of the canyons, where the infantry regulars had originally spilt up to try and take the Metal Head Nest.
Torn was aghast, and even Ackerson seemed to slump slightly, as he looked upon the battered and retreating elven army. Those few not wounded tried to help those who had been, carrying those who had had limbs shot off, applying pressure to injuries in a desperate bid to save a comrade or a friend from bleeding out, and a host of other things. Scorpions, some so damaged that it was a wonder they were still operational, flowed past, their guns trained on the rear sky. And, from a distance, they could still hear the sounds of quad blasters as the pilots of the Hellcats gave their blood in an attempt to cover the retreat.
Never before had the four Deltas seen such carnage and destruction, and they spent a few moments realizing the sheer gravity of the catastrophe that had occurred there that day.
Yet, even amongst all that death and sorrow, hope still lived.
A Guardian had managed to break free of the Hellcat's defensive ring, and came flying in, too low for the Scorpions to risk shooting at it. It was soon followed, if the bestial cries that echoed through the ravines were any indication, buy lesser Metal Heads. However, as soldiers ran and scattered in an attempt to get out of the way, one stood his ground. Clad in strange, obsidian armor that was centuries old, but stronger than anything ever made by elven hands, was Damas.
The King of Haven City stood defiant before the onrushing tide, his blade out and held as if it were a dagger. As the Guardian closed in on him, he brought up his left hand, and clinched it into a fist. An instant later, a yellowish aura surrounded it, and he extended his hand, unleashing an energy beam of the same color. Not anticipating this, the Guardian plowed straight into it, and a second later, its headless corpse tumbled to the ground. At the same time, several Drones rushed at him, and the Channeler abruptly exploded into action.
He leaped over the first one as it passed under him, Kitetsu decapitating it in a single well placed swing. As he landed, the King once again struck out, and the second one suffered the same fate as its compatriot. The third came in, and Damas gave the dark katana a deft spin, removing its head as well.
Not pausing an instant as the General and the Deltas ran up to him, he Channeled another energy ball, and threw it straight into the ranks of the approaching enemy. It exploded, taking almost a score of them down, and at the same time, throwing his blade at a Grunt that had gotten too close to the retreat for his liking. As the blast cleared, a trio of Hellcats suddenly came down from above, and their pilots switched them into hover mode, before unloading into the canyon with everything they had, their large cannons chewing a bloody swath through the enemy. At the same time, several of the Scorpions did an about face, scattering the infantry in the process, and wheeled themselves back around to also provide support.
At last, Damas turned, and immediately did a double take at the appearance of his brother in law.
"Geoffrey, what the hell happened to you?" he exclaimed, his eyes roaming over the grisly wounds.
"Guardian tried to blow me a kiss." was the General's growled reply.
"Get to the rear and get a medic on that!" the King ordered, as another squadron of Deltas, to Torn's relief rushed up.
"Your orders, sir?" Delta Sixteen, 1st Lieutenant Mendoza inquired, snapping to a salute.
"Escort General Praxis to the front of the retreat, and make sure he gets that wound treated." Damas replied, his tone calm, despite the chaos and destruction of the moment, compounded when one of the Scorpions suddenly blew up.
"It's not safe here, Damas," Praxis said, his voice urgent.
"You're right." The King remarked, and barked a few orders into the boom mike that he had attached to his helmet, which was the only piece of "modern" equipment on his outfit, before heading over to the corpse of the Grunt he had impaled.
The creature had lived just long enough to pull the katana out of itself, and Damas stuck his foot underneath it, before using said appendage to launch the blade into the air, whereupon he promptly grabbed it.
"Get out of here, Geoffrey." Damas said, and there was something in the monarch's voice that put them all on edge.
"After you." was the General's reply.
"Not this time, old friend." Damas said, shaking his head.
"Damas, what the hell are you on about?" Praxis asked, a sudden uneasiness in his voice.
"The drop ships are going to need time to load up the survivors and stabilize the wounded for evac…I plan on buying that time." The King said, watching as yet another scorpion was destroyed, and a Hellcat's repulsor lifts failed.
"If time is what we need then order a few more Scorpions and gunships to the front." the General said, gesturing to the retreating columns behind them.
"Geoff," the ruler replied, his tone somber, "I called for this attack, and more than half of those that came here a few hours ago are now dead because of me." He abruptly whirled around, putting his finger into the General's chest. "No one else is dying because of my mistake."
"Then let me and the Deltas remain behind!" General Praxis pleaded. "Don't throw your life away like this, Damas!"
"I'm sorry, old friend, but you won't be able to hold them off…I can." the King said, placing his hand on Praxis' shoulder.
"I'm not leaving you out here to die!" Praxis began.
Before he could say any more, though, Damas snapped Kitetsu up, and bashed him upside the temple with the hilt of the blade. Caught unprepared, the General crumpled to the ground unconscious.
"Get the General to the medics." Damas said, repeating his previous order. Immediately, Hunter knelt down and threw the elf over his shoulder, and reluctantly began to make a run for the evac point. The others hesitated, looking at their King, the one they had sworn to defend with their lives.
"Move it, soldiers!" he ordered, gesturing to the rear.
"But, Sir…" Torn began, unable to just leave the monarch alone in this hell.
There was an explosion, and the last of the Hellcats went down. This left just two Scorpions to defend against the onrushing tides of darkness. They were going to die, those elves piloting the assault tanks, and they knew it. Still, they knew that every second counted at a time like this, and they went to their deaths willingly, died knowing that others would live because of their sacrifice.
"You have your orders, Delta." Damas growled.
Helpless except to obey the chain of command, the Deltas began to follow Hunter back to where this whole disaster had begun. However, as he turned, Torn felt a hand on his shoulder, and looking back, saw Damas.
"Just a moment, Lieutenant Commander." He said, before reaching around his neck, and snapping off the amulet that he had on. "Make sure my son gets that, understand me?"
The squadron leader nodded mutely, before willing himself to turn around and run to catch back up to his remaining comrades.
Damas, meanwhile, reached down to a belt that he had strung around his waist that contained several canisters that almost looked like ammunition pouches. He found the one he wanted and pushed a button on the top, causing a vial of Blue Eco to fall into his other hand. Not hesitating a moment, he crushed it, and felt his body absorb the substance.
He was a blur as he moved, running over to one of the cliff faces, and jumping back and forth amongst the outcroppings until he reached the top, and turned around in time to watch the last two tanks go up in smoke. Saluting the bodies of the elves that had died to save their brothers and sisters, he then got several containers of Yellow Eco from his belt, and assimilated them into himself.
As the Metal Heads began their charge towards the fleeing elven forces, the King focused deep within himself, and concentrated. He felt the energy gathering itself between his palms, and he soon unleashed a devastating ray of energy into the heart of their ranks. This caught their attention, and they finally seemed to realize the nature of this strange foe. Instantly, Crab Heads began to bark out orders, and the lesser Metal Heads threw themselves at the cliff below him, sinking their talons in and trying to climb.
This was what Damas had been counting on. Everyone knew of the strange vendetta that Metals Heads had towards Channelers. No one really knew why, but most attributed it to that prophesy. The King had never put much faith in that, and had always believed that the unusual heritage of Channelers was what marked them for death. Regardless of the reason behind their hatred towards them, the Metals Heads made some rapid priority rearrangements, and seemed content to let the shattered remnant of the elven attack force retreat back to Haven. All that mattered to them, was slaughtering this freak.
Retreating down the canyon, Torn looked back, and saw flashes of energy. Knowing what would happen in a few minutes, regardless of the King's skill, he had to force himself to hold back a scream of frustration and rage, as he and his brothers fled this Hell that they had marched into.
&
Okay, hope that chapter was good enough to merit posting, and that I didn't miss anything vital when I was proofreading.
I'll try to get the last part of the trilogy posted next week, and after that things are going to shift back to Jak and company.
For now, though, please let me know what you thought of the chapter, be it a flame, criticism, idea, or simply a comment.
Thanks for your time, and have a great day, all of you.