CHAPTER 3

Review Corner:

Ulquiorra9000: Sooner or later they have to meet in combat. It's their destiny.


Shigata, Ashio,
Ashio Prefecture, Dieron Military District,
Draconis Combine,

September 7, 3074

For a city as big as Ashio, the lack of mechs made Kiyomi nervous. She had been in some intense urban fighting before, and a city this big always had battlemechs crawling around. She hadn't seen any, but that didn't mean they were there. They might be hiding in waiting, and that made her sweat, even before her PPC barrels began firing.

Anxious, Kiyomi popped up the hatch of her hundred-ton DI Morgan. She pressed her binoculars on her bridge and switched to different mode, from infrared to night vision. Ashio was quiet. Too quiet. She didn't like that. She looked left and right, observing the war machines under her command. Three Star-League-era Marksman tanks lined up in echelon left, and three APC's lied in waiting in staggered column on her right.

"I don't like this, Duke," she called the infantry leader. "It's too easy."

"You suspect an ambush?" Vash replied with his trademark unmoved charm.

"No battlemechs. No tanks. No contact with anything. A textbook ambush."

"Look, we might just caught them napping. Seether is going to make some noise in a few minutes. It'll wake them up. Just stick to the plan. If things go hairy, my unit is capable of taking down battlemechs. We can cover your ass if we need to."

Kiyomi glanced at her watch. Seether led the Fire Lance to draw defenders to the north, hopefully leaving the Reeducation Camp lightly guarded. Kiyomi would then led her command lance to wipe out whatever left defending the Reeducation Camp, clearing the way for the APCs to drop Vash and his troops, who would enter the building and slaughter the Word of Blake mad scientists, nurses, lab techs, and other non-combatants.

Though, the reality was never that simple.

"Anything?" Kiyomi slid inside her steel mammoth and addressed her crews.

"No Ma'am, nothing so far," the driver shrugged. "There are not talking to each other."

The anticipation was killing her. Scarlet trusted her to lead the team to liberate the Reeducation Camp, and her priority was the lives of her subordinates. She was passionate about those whom she took to the field of battle with her. She didn't care killing hundreds of Word of Blake soldiers if she lost one of her crews. And this situation made her believe that she was walking into a trap that would eat her crews alive.

Just then, the light turned bright on the northern part of Shigata. Soft, rhythmical tremors rattled the interior of the DI Morgan. She quickly climbed up her tank and observed the Reeducation Camp with her binoculars. Rommel and Drillson tanks clambered out of their camouflage and assumed defense position. A sadistic smile sprung on her lips.

"Targets acquired, four Rommel MBTs and four Drillson hover tanks," she spoke through her comset. "I want quick, concise shots to the hulls! APCs, 50 meters apart! Let's get them!" She banged her fist on the turret. "Move! Move! Move!"

The massive tank rolled in a low grunt, and the turret shifted left, lining up the particle cannon triplet with a Rommel. The Rommel kicked into high gear and drew first blood. Its Gauss Rifle barked in a muffled thump and the slug smashed into the Morgan's front hull. Kiyomi winced as the impact sent her crashing against the sill of the turret hatch. The Gauss slug tore several layers of armor, but it was as far as it went.

The DI Morgan returned fire, and Kiyomi marveled the azure light beams from the triple barrels, bridging the gap between her tank and the Word of Blake Rommel some 600 meters ahead. The Rommel glowed in glorious blue, then veered off course.

Missiles from a Drillson forced Kiyomi to slide back into the command center of her tank. She observed the battlefield, with her Marksman lance mates taking fire from the Drillsons while two Rommels were closing on her. Another Gauss hit jarred the DI Morgan. With less than 11 tons of armor, the DI Morgan would not hold against 2 Gauss Rifles, let alone 4.

"Break! Attack the Rommels!" Kiyomi barked. "One Rommel at a time!"

The Marksman tanks concentrad fire on a Rommel, raining down artillery fire and large laser bolts on the hapless beast. The Rommel didn't have much chance. Two sniper ballistics disintegrated its left armor plating, then a laser bolt exploited the unprotected hull, melting the structure and burnt power conduits. The Rommel quickly lost power, and with whatever juice remained swung its turret for a counter strike. But a well-placed salvo torched the engine, and the Rommel engulfed in a fireball.

Kiyomi's gunner fixed his crosshair on another Rommel and let loose a stream of particle bolts. Two struck its right side, vaporizing the remaining armor. The Rommel, already staggering from previous PPC assault, drifted to a halt. The crews clambered out of the wounded beast and tried to escape on foot. As soon as the weapons recycled, the gunner fired another volley, eviscerating the tank. The tank erupted, and the fireball swallowed the escaping tank crews.

The Word of Blake Drillsons, however, ran around unchecked. Two Drillson locked on the DI Morgan and used it as a target practice. Missiles and laser bolts gutted the massive tank at will, and before long warning signs drowned everything inside the tank short of Kiyomi's shrilling voice.

"Damage report!" Kiyomi yelled.

"Armor is at 30-percent!" the driver hollered. "Hull is breaching! We are still 50-percent combat effective, but at this rate we will not stay long in the fight!"

"I'll get them off our back!" Kiyomi grabbed a shoulder-mounted SRM, stuffed with Inferno canister, and climbed out the turret hatch. "Hard left! Don't disengage until I tell you!"

The tank driver put the tracks in opposite direction, making the tank turned hard left. The Drilllsons foolishly turned the other directions to cut off the Morgan, hoping to get an easy shot at the behemoth's thin rear armor. Kiyomi sprang up the hatch, took an aim at the closest Drillson, then fired her SRM. The canister broke upon impact, spilling flammable gel on the Drillson's turret. A second later the fuse lit up, and the hovertank engulfed in red-hot blaze. Already running hot from firing laser and missiles in quick succession, the Drillson was forced to leave the battlefield.

"Burn in hell, bitches!" Kiyomi loaded the second Inferno canister into her launcher. She targeted the second Drillson and pulled the trigger, but the hovertank anticipated her shot. It pulled its break and made a hard left turn, missing Kiyomi's canister by a mere inch. The canister ignited a hundred-foot-wide bonfire, but the Drillson far from the reaches of the tongues of flame.

Kiyomi slid back into the tank and overrode the turret. She swiveled the turret around, facing the rear. "Sawtooth pattern!" she ordered her driver, then turned her turret a few degree off the Drillson. "This one is on me!"

The DI Morgan engaged a straight course, and the Drillson lined up behind it, going for an easy kill. Just as the missiles leapt from the tubes, the DI Morgan turned hard right. The missiles whistled behind the rear hull, exploding some hundred meters away. The Drillson compensated the course, and in doing so, inadvertently fell into Kiyomi's line of fire. Kiyomi mashed the trigger, and two PPC bolts spiked the Drillson with impunity. One narrowly missed but the other jabbed the Drillson at the hull. Static charges crackled as the armor sagged. The Drillson adjusted its course but the DI Morgan turned hard left. Kiyomi fired her remaining cannon, and the particle bolt drilled the Drillson right under the turret. Smoke billowed from the hatch. Kiyomi waited until all 3 cannons recycled, then delivered her knock out punch. The tank disappeared inside a black plumme of smoke.

By this time Kiyomi's lance mates had overwhelmed the defenders. One Marksman sustained heavy damage, but the Rommels were all but wiped out. The remaining two Drillsons used their speed to outmaneuver the Marksman, but their armor was no match for the Marksman's Sniper Rifles.

"Alright, Ryuken, let's deliver the Easter Egg," Kiyomi disengaged the turret. "Set the course to the Reeducation Camp." She set up comlink with the APCs. "Duke, I've done my part. It's your turn."


The APCs stopped in front of the building and Vash jumped out of the vehicle. He was not the kind of commander that stayed at the back of the group barking out orders. He was always the first one setting his foot on the field. He was always taking point. Perhaps it was more of machismo than courage, but he believed in living by examples.

Kiyomi's tanks made a circle around the APCs to shield the dismounting infantry from enemy's firepower. Stray bullets ricocheted on the APC armor. The foot soldiers lowered their heads and scurried toward the building entrance. A steel-plate door blocked the opening, and the APCs rained down their 50-caliber armor-piercing bullets on the door, but they barely made dents.

"Charge!" Vash bellowed. Two infantrymen came forward and stuck explosives on the door. He motioned to his troops to clear the door, then cowered next to an APC wheel. The explosions staggered the ground, splitting the door into jagged-edged splinters. As soon as the door came off the hinge, the APCs opened fire into the opening, painting the smoke-filled opening with large-caliber bullets. The smoke curtain swallowed the tracers, obscuring the fact whether the bullets actually hit something inside the building, or just mopping the floor. Nevertheless, the APCs maintained a steady stream of bullets until they ran out of ammo.

"Let's go to work, Ryuken!" Vash cocked his KA-23 and jogged toward the still-smoking door. Half a dozen troops followed him. The smoke diffused the light from the door, making it difficult to see beyond the cloud. Vash inched forward, shifting left and right to find a reason to pull the trigger, but it was difficult to see anything in a dimly lit room obscured by smoke. If he could do it all over again, he would probably stop the APCs from pouring as much cover fire into the building.

Then a red light blinked through the smoke. And then another one. Then another one.

"Oh shit!" Vash instinctively threw himself out of the way. He didn't know what those were. He only knew those were laser designators. He yelled for his men, but muzzle flashes illuminated the muzzy room before his voice left his mouth. Bullets of various calibers ravaged their torso, ripping their flak suits and tearing the soft tissues underneath. Two soldiers stumbled, dead before their head hit the floor. Another one fell flat on his back, screaming bloody murder. The rest of them dove behind a few barrels, but a wave of bullets destroyed the barrels, leaving the men out in the open. The next wave mutilated the men until no limbs left attached.

"Blake sonofabitch!" Vash screamed and lobbed two frag grenades at the muzzle flashes. The explosions gave him a trace of what was waiting for them: half a dozen of of Achilleus battle armors, with a platoon of Word of Blake soldiers as support. He jumped out and fired his machine gun, but the bullets just ricocheted off the battle armor's thick plate. He grabbed the shredded vest of his troop that was still alive, then dragged him behind a concrete post. 30-caliber bullets riddled the post, chipping concrete splinters until the metal structures were exposed.

"SMAW! SMAW, Goddammit!" Vash slammed a new clip into his rifle and emptied it in one go, but his effort was in vain. His 30-caliber full-metal-jackets were no match against the Achileus thick armor. He rarely felt nervous or scared in combat, but he had never been trapped behind enemy line with six battle armors latching on to him.

Two soldiers with shoulder-mounted SRM entered the building and fired their missiles. One went wild and hit something in the background, creating a major fire in several locations. The other one hit an Achileus squarely on the torso. An orange fireball split the front armor plate and seared the left arm off at the shoulder. Blood and oil streamed down the hole as the Achileus staggered to get up.

The other Achileus fired their heavy machine guns at the two soldiers at the door. Blood and gristle sprayed as 30-caliber bullets ground the soldier's body. The soldiers moved up behind the battle armors, determine to keep the invaders at bay.

But the Ryuken foot soldiers were more than ready to deal with armored combatants. Half a dozen soldiers gunmen moved up to the door bringing Thunderstroke Gauss Rifles to bear. An Achileus came barreling out of the building and was greeted by a hail of nickel-ferrous slugs. Two dozens gored the front armor, three of which exited from the back. The Achileus writhed and twisted before crumpling on the floor. Blood dripped from the air intake at the bottom of its helmet.

The other Achileus came barreling out of the building, firing their machine guns in wide arc, but the Ryuken infantry fought back with equal verocity. More shoulder-mounted SRMs belched fire, wreaking havoc on the Achileus line. One short-ranged missile smashed into an Achileus hip, and the explosion that followed ripped the leg off the torso. The Achileus writhed on its death throes, swimming a pool of its own blood. Another one tried to help its fallen comrade when a well-placed Gauss slug pierced its face plate and exited from the back of its head, as if the helmet was made from paper. The Achileus went limp and crumbled on top of the other.

As the Achileus formation collapsed, the Word of Blake infantry moved up. Vash threw his remaining grenade and fired his sub machine gun wildly. A third of the Blake's infantry vanished, devoured by the explosion and Vash's mad charge. Vash grabbed another KA-23 from his deceased comrade and went berserk. The Word of Blake infantry methodically retreated deeper into the building, thinking that they were fighting a platoon of bloodlusty vikings.

"Move in!" Vash bellowed as he fired his twin machine guns with reckless abandon. His troops spilled into the building and painted every corner, every crevasse, every hiding spot with bullets, leaving nothing untouched. The Word of Blake infantry desperately made a firing line to maximize their stopping power, but a few Ryuken soldier blasted their grenade launchers, mopping up any Word of Blake opposition. Tongues of fire mixed with severed limbs, and within 10 minutes the Word of Blake units ceased firing.

"Check every room! I want all Word of Blake agent brought to light, armed or no armed!" Vash tossed his empty KA-23 sub machine guns and drew his Nambu pistol from the holster on his hip. "Find the prisoners! Bring everybody to the main hall!"

About 3 dozen soldiers scurried to various directions. Some others collected the deceased and the wounded, both Ryuken and Word of Blake. They put a few wounded Word of Blake soldiers on a corner. A few moments later the soldiers returned with a smorgasbord of people at gunpoint. Those with a Word of Blake crest on their clothes, or anything resembling the Sword of Cameron, were grouped together with the injured Word of Blake infantry. The rest of them, Ashio soldiers and citizens of varying degrees, were assembled in a separate group not far from the Blakists.

"Who's in charge?" Vash bellowed.

A few civilians pointed at a Word of Blake man with a drab trench coast. Vash snapped his fingers and two Ryuken infantry grabbed the man and brought him to his attention.

"You're in charge of this facility?" Vash smirked.

"You think you've won the war, infidel, but you have accomplished nothing!" the man sneered. "The rain of fire will fall upon…"

The man's sentence was cut short by Vahs's autopistol. He fell on his butt and gurgled with three holes on his chest. Vash watched the man squirming in mortal agony, until he stopped moving.

"My name is Tai-I Vash, Draconis Combine Ryuken-go," he addressed the two groups of people. "I am now in charge of this facility. Are there any paramedics?"

"I'm a nurse…" a Word of Blake woman raised her hand.

Without looking at her Vash raised his arm and shot her twice, center mass. The Word of Blake nurse jerked and stumbled. She was dead before her head hit the grated steel floor. Both groups looked at him in sheer terror.

"Not you," Vash said halfheartedly. He turned to the Ashio group, eliciting panic whimpers and murmurs among the crowd. "Are there any paramedics?"

A few trembling hands slowly rose.

"My brothers in arms need TLC," Vash pointed at the injured Ryuken-go infantrymen. "Take care of my family. Move!" He waited until the 'paramedics' left the group, then continued, "The rest of you will be escorted to our bivouac where you will be examined."

"Examined for what?" one of the Ashio congregation spoke. "We are the victims! We are the prisoners! Those are the guys you want, not us!"

"We're not taking chances," Vash growled. "We will make sure none of you have been turned into Word of Blake agents."

"Word of Blake agents? This is debauchery!" a few people clamored. "You can't treat us the same way as them…"

Vash pressed the barrel of his gun under the chin of the guy who spoke the loudest. "Either you go with my men for examination, or join the other group with the Word of Blake operatives. It's all there is to it. Now move!"

Nobody stayed to argue with Vash any longer. The liberated prisoners rushed out of the building, escorted by Ryuken soldiers. As the group exited, Vash drew his personal comset and called Kiyomi. "Building's secured. Camp's liberated. My men will escort the civilians to get tested for possible Word of Blake contamination."

"Excellent work," Kiyomi replied. "Let's get WoB prisoners…"

"I have no prisoners," Vash cut Kiyomi off.

"What?"

"You heard me." He shut the comset then turned his back on the Word of Blake operatives.

"Sir?" his soldiers didn't know what to do with the fact that they did, indeed, have prisoners.

"I said…" Vash turned around and looked at his subordinates in the eye. "… no prisoners! "

It took a while for Vash's troops to understand what he was insinuating. When they were on the same page, they slammed home fresh magazines into their rifles. The sound of cocks and hammers blended with the panic pleadings from the Word of Blake operatives. Vash turned around and started walking away, when the muzzle flashes from the machine guns illuminated the hallway.