The Shadow Strikers

by BiscuitReloaded

The epic tale of the Irken Empire's most secretive sect of special operations, an elite squad of 10 highly trained and extremely dangerous individuals whose service has undoubtedly kept the mighty Empire from collapsing...until they are pushed too far.

29. Down but Not Out

The retired Commander looked at the time on his desk terminal. "I've kept you much longer than I expected…You should return to your barracks. Though, before you go," he went through his desk drawer, holding up a disc for them, embossed with the insignia of the VDF, of the style used long ago when the Irken Empire once stood.

"Field Marshal 'Zharic was kind enough to provide me with her side's perspective once the war was over and the Vortian Federation and Irken Republic were allied once more."

The man paused to take a breath, "Joint Special Operations Group Ohnmatu, their actions against the Empire were buried...but if you want to see some insights into the Vortians, you'll want to see what's on this disc."

Digits, being the more technologically-adept of the trio of Cadets given this honorable privilege of listening to what may as well had been a living legend's testimony before it was lost with time, graciously accepted the data storage unit offered to him. For such a small, dated piece of technology, its weight was immeasurable in his hands. A chill of realization ran down his spine at what he held in his possession.

"Sir...a-are you sure?" He stumbled, glancing with uncertainty between his close friends and fellow Cadets allowed this opportunity. "It is one thing to...implicate yourself...but this…" The young man referred to the disc of Vortian design. "Only recently have relations simmered to a peaceable level."

"Yeah," DZ gave a small nervous laugh. "Commander...that...if that's actual JSOG Ohnmatu intelligence...not that I doubt you...we could get into major dookie."

Joker huffed, shaking his head.

"Listen to you two...couple of quivering smeets. If he didn't trust us with it, he wouldn't have offered it to us. Right Sir?"

"This isn't dirty laundry on some politician or high-ranking military officer, Joker," Digits fired back at him, finding his resolve again as his eyes fell on the VDF-embossed logo on the storage device. "...this is the kind of stuff that can ruin relations and start wars."

"I'm very sure," Corr gave a firm nod to Digits, "I wouldn't offer it otherwise. You'll see in due course how Ohnmatu comes into play. I think it's important for you to see their side as well as ours. Don't worry, their operations are almost as secret as ours...and next time you're here, I may be able to tell you about our first run in with them."

Digits shook his head, brow furrowed in confusion as he looked up at their withered professor whom up until a few short weeks ago was just that. Someone they all assumed was a desk jockey for decades had been a special forces operator so deeply buried in history that his existence was far from confirmed at large. Hiding in plain sight, indeed.

"What does the VDF JSOG have to do with your unit, Sir? I mean, I assume they were your equivalent from what little information is publicly available but we know even less of them than we do our own Spec Ops. Back then, during the days of the Empire, wouldn't that have made you enemies?"

Corr thought of what to tell them, even if he only hinted at it. Whatever came to his mind would spoil the story. The answer for that would have to wait. "You'll see soon enough. For now, you best get going before Sergeant Gis piles onto your kitchen duty." He smirked, "Watch the videos, gain some insight. It's sure to fill in blanks we may not have time for...blanks I may not have the best explanation for."

Digits nodded, rising from his seat in the front row of the classroom.

"Yes, Sir."

"Commander?" DZ beckoned, standing at-ease as his compatriots moved to leave. "This whole...thing. I don't know what to call it. You telling us these things when you're not supposed to. It's been over a hundred years. Dozens of classes have graduated through these same halls...why tell us? Why now? What makes us so different or special to be granted this opportunity?"

The Commander himself stood, cane in hand as he rose to his feet. "We're getting old. The team and I, that is. Call it...passing on our tradition. If we don't tell it, these stories may very well die with us, and with those of Ohnmatu. Now seems like the right time...and you three seem like the right choice."

"What exactly are we supposed to do with this information?" He continued. "Don't get me wrong, Sir...I'm honored. Humbled, even that you'd entrust us with this...but all the records to back up these claims are forever sealed or non-existent. Like any other piece of sensitive information, those that don't want it shared can and will find a way to silence it. As democratic and peace-loving as the Republic is...knowing what I do now through you...I'm somehow lead to believe they won't be so understanding if we tried to share this with others."

Corr waited, silently, before a smile came across his face. "One thing you'll learn soon enough...no matter how hard you try to hide something. It may very well surface again."

On the video screen, an apparent setting emerged in Vort's mountains. Vast trees, rough terrain, a perfect spot for hunters, a perfect refuge for those wanting to live off the grid…and the last place to expect a power armored soldier. The camera footage itself belonged to Reeshara'Ahko, Podahmistharka, a Lieutenant Colonel, of the VDF. She moved quietly, calculating, searching, her vision modes switching to thermal intermittently. A voice soon broke over the radio.

"Arbiter, I don't see anything."

"He's here MAC, I know he is." She spoke over her comms. The two Vortians continued to move, MAC, a Vortian Petty Officer, Kialstis Dorum'Charsis stepped on a fallen branch, causing a loud snap. "Shhhhh!"

A loud crack rang out as a plasma bolt flew by the man's head, right above where he stood just a moment before. "Oh gods!"

Reeshara simply sighed and shook her head, "Ruk! You fucking idiot! You're shooting at Vortians! Calm your ass down!"

Recognizing his sister's voice, the man rose as he reloaded his rifle. "Reeshara? I never expected to see you again! Vhy are you not at the front?"

"Because I came to get you! Congratulations, you've been drafted! Get what you need and get back here, five minutes!"

"This isn't my var!"

"Ruk, you can either go get your shit and come with me, or I can drag your ass out of here! I'm not leaving you to get shot by a dozen Irken! They are coming! Five minutes, move it!" As the man went back to his cabin, she started back with him, signaling for MAC to watch the area, "Reaper, Arbiter, what's your status on Spectre?"

"Hot on his tail. Keeping a safe distance. Should I nab him?"

"Nah, keep watching him. We'll be there in a couple hours. Best we all speak to him together."

"You got Ruk?"

"Yup. Be there soon, out."

While on the way back to the city to grab Rub, Reeshara got Ruk fitted for a set of armor that was apparently very high tech. A muscle suit with heavy armor plating worn over top of it. It wasn't a conventional suit of armor, not in the least.

"Vhy me?" Ruk tilted his head at Reeshara, "The invasion doesn't concern me."

"It soon will, bet your ass on it." She sighed, it's been several weeks since the campaign for Vort started. Irkens were being slaughtered, but it was becoming apparent to her and to a number of higher ups that this was only putting off the inevitable. "Look, I see it, my superior Gantas'Zharic sees it, a number of the brass is starting to see it, Vort's lost. This isn't a matter of if, it's a matter of when. You've just been drafted into Joint Special Operations Group Ohnmatu."

The man blinked, "Reesh, I never served a day in my life."

"I know that. You've got skills we need. We need them in the long game more than you know."

He paused, his armor coming to life as he looked at his helmet in his hands, "So vhere are ve headed?"

"Simple, we're going to pick up the last Ahko."

"Rub lives?"

"Yeah."

"Reesh-"

"Shut it. I know you and Rub may not have always seen eye to eye, but I need you to trust me." The dropship's doors opened and she stepped out. "This it, Tha?"

"Yup, joining you now." As the dropship lifted off, a second female joined the trio on the roof of a high rise. She smirked behind her helmet, looking at Ruk. "Cousin Ruk."

"Tha? It's been a very long time."

"It has...some family reunion…Come on." She gestured as the muscle fibers of her suit turned red, kicking a door right off its hinges and into a stairwell before returning to its previous state. Reeshara told MAC to stop one floor down and stay on overwatch as they moved.

"Rub!" Reeshara called out, removing her helmet to call out for him, revealing a dark skinned Vortian as the helmet camera kept rolling all the same. "Rub! Answer me! I know you're in here! Tha's been tracking you!"

The only sound that met her cries was the ambiance of distant battle, wind howling through broken windows, the steady pitter-patter of leaking pipes, and the occasional short of electricity arcing. The building itself may not have been in any direct confrontation with the Empire's forces as of yet, but it felt the concussive brunt of near non-stop artillery volleys and ordnance being used nearby.

Reeshara and her team, however, were not alone. The man they sought was indeed present, but he refused to reveal his position. High above on the upper floors, a family's vacated apartment had become his nest. The broken kitchen window the viewport through which he took aim. The table his makeshift rest.

For days he had watched and lay in wait. Armada forces moved with regularity through the area towards a slowly shifting front in their favor. Legions of Imperial Troopers, Irken Elite, and the occasional Spec Ops unit maneuvered through the streets towards their objectives. Walkers and mechs soon followed with heavy weapons support. The urge to pick them off indiscriminately simmered deeply within him, but he resisted. Killing a lowly soldier just so two more could take their place, multiplying like the terrible insects they were served no purpose.

Rather, like the patient hunter he had been raised to be, he waited for an opportunity to arise. He noted times, dates, and locations. Certain elements happened with predictability. One such one was the repeated inspection rounds made by one particular Irken officer. A Major or the equivalent seeking to polish future medals for the campaign and ensure his men looked good for propaganda purposes.

His family heirloom of a rifle, a first-generation bolt-action plasma rifle, remained steadfast on the makeshift rest he hastily constructed of debris, dishes, and a pillow from the bedroom. Far enough back in the darkened room, secluded by shadow with the fluttering of tattered drapes at the open window, his presence was unknown by the Irken. Unfortunately the same could not be said as he heard a familiar, shrill voice below him. Rub's teeth clenched in annoyance, but did nothing else as he remained focused on his task at hand.

The three Vortians proceeded down the hall, careful to avoid live wires and pools of water as they moved. Still no response from Rub. She heaved a sigh, "Rub, I mean it, come out here. Don't make me find you. Tha knows you're in here. If Ruk or one of us have to come track you down…" She paused, speaking lower to Tha, "You think he's got a target?"

"Maybe? Units have been coming by about two kliks out the last couple days. Chief and Nomad have been around here tracking concentrations for artillery bombardments."

"Sister, maybe ve should let the man hunt."

"We need Rub, he's going to be critical in the long game. I need his skills as much as I do yours."

"Vhy me if you have him? He served."

"Because I think you're the only one he'd be most comfortable paired with at the end of the day." She paused, "Rub, if you can hear me, we need to talk, that's an order from the brass. We'll be in apartment 3211. Find us when you're done."

Growling under his breath as he scanned the evening haze of the streets below at range, his left hand rose to his earpiece of his headset. A few taps and clicks soon modulated to the correct frequency range he sought. Common, encrypted channels. Not exactly the most secure, but enough to get his point across before they caused more noise and attracted unwanted attention.

"Be quiet. Go avay." Was all he grumbled before ending the transmission.

Reeshara sat down in the living room of the abandoned apartment, personal effects strewn about and plaster covering the furniture. She shook her head. "Stubborn ass…" She spoke in a whisper as she donned her helmet once more, "Tha, cloak mode, we're going to have to drag his ass."

"Is that wise?"

"Not really. But if he's going to be an idiot and disobey an order-"

"Reesh," Ruk spoke up, "Let the man take the shot. I am sure he is hunting. He vill come to us."

A pause then she shook her head, "Fine. But if he tries to run…"

Thankfully, the infestation of familiar pests left him be for the time being. Some time passed. Going by the clock hanging on the wall in the kitchen, nearly an hour. Another Armada troop movement towards the front was traversing at the end of the block. Right on schedule.

Breathing deeper, slowly with purpose, Rub sought to slow his beats. Enough to remain steady at this range. Even if he had advanced targeting equipment built into his goggles, the less he relied on them, the better. Equipment could fail. Technology could be compromised.

Company after company of Irken Elite marched by. More than the day before. Even fewer came back from the front. It was infuriating. No matter how many of them fell in battle, more would take their place. Nevertheless, their command structure made it simple to find targets of interest. The taller they were, the more important their duties.

His prey of the past several days had finally made his appearance. Standing stoically atop an open pulpit amidst the column of armored vehicles rumbling along behind the marching infantry. A tall, magenta-eyed man adorned in officer's attire. A flowing coat, pristine and unmarred by battle. The sort of man that sent countless others to their demise for his own elevation of self-worth. Arrogance and pride incarnate.

Stemming his disgust and rage, Rub settled for disengaging the safety of his rifle and shoring the rifle up on his shoulder. His aim steady, mind calm and resolute, he began leading the Major. The window of opportunity would soon close as he would leave his view. At this range, he only had one shot. Lingering too long would result in certain death.

"Ora...Mur...until my last breath...I will avenge you."

A clean, purposeful press of the trigger gave forth to a deafening report from his rifle. The plasma bolt arced, zipping through the air in a brilliant lance of bright blue energy...directly through the Major's chest and out the back of his PAK. The Irken was dead before he collapsed, tumbling over the edge of the pulpit and landing in the mud face-first a lifeless husk.

With his shot taken and hunt successfully completed, Rub wasted no time in actuating the bolt of his rifle. The spent plasma cell cartridge ejected, catching it with his off-hand to pocket before chambering another and throwing the slung rifle across his back. Time to leave before the Irken...and familiar faces rushed to find him.

Reeshara narrowed her eyes at the shot and stood, scoped plasma carbine in hand. "Rub, I mean it, if I have to tackle your ass I'm gonna break my foot off in it. Get down here, that's an order." She paused to switch to her team channel, "MAC, be ready to box in his escape from the roof."

Ruk took off, running down the hall, still unfamiliar with much of how the armor worked.

"Dumbass, get back here-" Reeshara called out as she and Tha took off after him.

"If you can hear me over this thing, brother, you are not running vhen ve need you." Ruk had an approximate gauge of where the shot came from and started running to intercept his twin. "If she is dragging me out of my home, you have no right to run."

Rub said nothing in response. He focused on navigating the strange territory of the urban sprawl turned into an active warzone. A tall, broad-shouldered man, squeezing through tight spaces with fallen debris blocking his path was troubling at times. His limber strength and physical prowess made up for it in quickly leaping, scaling, and climbing over obstacles in his way.

His reputation preceded him by now. The Armada feared him. A single man, a soldier, whose infamy began to take root and spread across the ranks. Like a ghost, he would vanish without a trace. All that remained was the evidence of the deed. His targets cleanly killed at challenging ranges.

Whatever kept them in fear and uncertain. Whatever affected morale. Whatever got them off of Vort and never to return. Whatever it took. Any price to be paid was not too great for him. He leapt from one floor to the next through a partially collapsed roof, accessing the full length of hallway between rows of residential housing units. The wall at the end of the hall was collapsed, likely destroyed by a stray artillery round. A rooftop two stories below across a narrow street resided on the other side. His escape. He took off into a full sprint, intending to leap with all his might to clear the gap at the end.

Ruk was first to see Rub preparing to leap from the window. Before he could move in, a brightly off-white colored Reeshara propelled herself up the stairs and stopped within arm's reach of Rub. The mountain dwelling brother's eyes widened, never seeing his sister, or anyone living in his familiarity, move like that. These armor suits pushed the limits, a speed enhancement allowing them to move as fast as their muscles are physically capable.

Once within reach, she grabbed Rub by the collar and drew him back, slamming him into the drywall at normal strength as her muscle suit then glowed red to hold him in place. It was apparent which relative of his had him in her grasp. "You really are the same sort of dumbass aren't you? Didn't listen to mom and dad, not listening to your superiors. Nothing's changed with you."

Tha and Ruk soon emerged from the doorframe, Rub's cousin giving him a light wave with her left hand. "Hey, Rub, some family reunion, huh?" Ruk didn't say a word, but it was obvious who he was, his single shot hunting rifle and a single action plasma revolver in his right thigh holster, coupled with a small assortment of knives about him. Reeshara hadn't gotten him better weapons yet...the mountain hermit was clear as day. He simply crossed his arms, looking right at his twin.

The sudden shift of inertia and being pinned against the wall set Rub on edge. He clenched his teeth in a growl, immediately reaching for his sheathed vibroblade about the time he recognized faces looking back at him. His simple-minded, isolationist twin brother. A cousin. Most of all, their elder sister who currently held him fast in place against his will with strength not of her own.

"Let go of me, Reeshara. Now." He glared at her through his goggles darkly. "Now is not the time for this. Ve vill be drowning in Irken should ve remain any longer."

"Then follow me, and you better keep up. Frequency Nine Two Three. Eight Eight Two, that'll get you on our comms." The masked female released him and motioned towards the stairwell, leading the way out. "MAC, initiate burnout, over."

"Copy, Arbiter," The Vortian on the roof switched comm frequencies "Battery Pyrdana, this is Char, request artillery support."

"Pyrdana here, Char, ready."

"Request bombardment, incendiary shells, final protective fire, on my position."

"Char, are you certain?"

"Pyrdana, start on our position and pour fire in a direction south to southwest. We'll torch a lot of green bastards. Don't worry about us. We'll be out of here."

"Copy, Char, commencing fire in sixty seconds, over."

The Vortians came out of the stairwell, "We got sixty, Arbiter!"

Reeshara motioned for him to follow, "Haul ass then, MAC!" The male at the top joined them in a sprint for the next rooftop, three stories higher than the one they were on now. Tha and MAC were first to leap, suits glowing red as they made the larger than normal leap. Ruk followed, a bit slower than them and growing accustomed to the technology. Though the man fell short and pulled himself up from grasping the ledge. Reeshara, meanwhile, grabbed her unsuited brother and jumped with him in her grasp. The two waiting suited Vortians catching them and pulling them up as they made a run for the next roof.

As they jumped across, this time not needing assistance from the suit, deep roars of artillery firing in the distance sounded. Behind them, the streets and buildings erupted into an inferno. Several buildings away as shells started landing more rapidly, the group could hear the distant screams of burning Irken as some of the buildings glowed a sickly orange from the growing flames.

Reeshara then looked to her younger brother, arms crossed now that they were at least somewhat safe. "You ready to talk now, Rub?"

Not appreciating being forcibly handled the way he was by Reeshara of all people, Rub said nothing. His expression of contempt for her and her "friends", his family among them, spoke volumes as he turned about and started walking again.

She rolled her eyes, "Lieutenant, are you really going to disobey orders for you directly from the minister of defense?!" She wasn't about to let him walk away that easy. "Damn it, Rub, Tha and I vouched for you to pull you into this! We're looking at the long game! Vort's lost, Rub! We need to start looking at the resistance!" A pause, followed by a sigh, "We need you."

Born of annoyance, the marksman's feet came to a stop with a trying sigh. Clearing his thoughts and calming down, he turned to face Reeshara.

"Vort is only lost because the vill to fight is lost." He coldly sounded, glaring at his brother. "Running avay and ignoring the problem does not make it go avay. Only confronting it does."

"We are confronting the problem. It's not a matter of will, Rub, it's a matter of reality. The Irken have us right where they want us. We're on the back foot. It's a high probability that Vort will fall. We're looking at the long game. The long game that's going to see us hurt the Irken more than just here."

Ruk only looked back at his brother. It was so foreign to him being in a full suit of powered armor, but here he was. The mountain hermit and previous isolationist up for the fight. "She has a proposal, brother, one I think vorth listening to."

She nodded, "We want to pull you into Special Operations. Specifically the newly formed Ohnmatu group. We'll do what we can here on Vort, that's our first priority right now. Should Vort fall, and by our estimates it will, we'll shift strategies. We'll show the Irken that nowhere in their Empire is safe from those they seek to subjugate. In fact...I can fill you in on a nasty surprise we have in store for them...if you agree to join us. You'll have your own team, our own stealth corvette, you'll be in command of it." She paused, pulling out a picture she has of her own with her two children, a son and a daughter, but absent their father in that particular picture. "You want to have the chance I have? You want to hurt them where they think themselves safest and avenge those you lost? This is your best shot."

What she said wasn't news to him. Something he and anyone with a functioning brain in the VDF already knew. The battle was lost. It was only a matter of time before the Armada would achieve victory. That didn't change how he felt about his own pain of loss.

"You seek me out to tell me our peoples' only hope is to put illiterate recluses into special forces units?" He gave a humorless laugh and shake of his head, waving a fingerless gloved hand as he made to turn about and keep walking. "You're delusional. All of you. I have alvays vorked alone and vill continue to do so."

"I have reports that would say otherwise from your blinded spotter, you selfish son of a-"

"Reesh!" Ruk interrupted, "Just tell the man!"

Regulations be damned...may as well take a shot, "We already have one team of two on the way to Devastis in a stealth shuttle. They volunteered, knowing there's no chance of coming back, but they're going to hit the Irken where it hurts. That's what our unit is going to do across their Empire. I pulled Ruk down from the mountains, you know why? Because I need you both. You know our family has always been expert trackers and damn fine shots. You may not like it, but I thought it best if my brothers work together."

Tha stepped in, "I lost my husband too, Rub. Remember Khor'Sareh? I went home to get him out in the opening week of this mess, only to find him gunned down in our home trying to fight back. I want revenge. I'm sure aside from Ruk, that's a motivator for all of us. You think what you're doing by yourself means anything in the long run? Soon enough they'll get smart and level an entire block with artillery to kill you. You do what you're doing coupled with us?" She mused for a few moments, "Consider one day if you could get a shot at the Tallest themselves. What would you say to that?"

Rub stopped once more, turning around to face the group of fellow Vortian soldiers clad in cutting-edge armor and armaments.

"Is that vhere ve are now? Vhere our leaders have fallen? Recruiting the insane for suicide missions? To throw their lives avay for the remote possibility of striking back vith some success? You tell me in the same breath ve our doomed, but if ve do this, somehow, it'll magically fix it all. The Empire vill be destroyed, the Irken defeated, and all vill rejoice. I take back vhat I said...you're not delusional...you're strudata."

"Vhat does that make a man who is doing the same thing in a suicidal cause like you are?" Ruk broke his silence, glaring at his brother from behind his visor. "Reesh told me about Ora and Mur, brother. Vhat vould they say to you now? Seeing their father and husband seeking death, for revenge vith no other vay out than you joining them. You're throwing your life avay. Vould they not vant to see you take the long route to victory? You vant vengeance? It's hard to do buried beneath rubble."

"Maybe so...maybe I am...but vith every breath I take, every shot I take, and every stroke of this blade...I vill be one step closer to avenging them." Rub coldly sounded back at his twin sibling.

He continued to speak, approaching Reeshara and Ruk as he did so.

"Your vords are as empty as our future, Ruk. You bear no children. You have no mate. You isolate yourself from the universe around you. You cannot possibly understand vhat vas taken from me...and vhat lengths I vill go to because I can never have it back."

"Then what about me losing my husband, Rub?" Tha spoke up from the side, holding her scoped battle rifle in her left hand. "I'm in the same lot as you."

"As am I," Reeshara sounded off soon after. "My ass of an ex husband aside, I lost my kids, Rub. I've got nothing left to lose. I'm past my prime for even having more children. Two of your family knows what you're going through. You want to avenge them? You want to make the Irken pay? What have you got to lose taking this opportunity? You'll just have more of a chance to exact painful vengeance. Even more than just gunning down a high ranking officer who you know as well as I probably has a replacement a few hours that way," she gestured to the side towards the Irken lines. They fear the Spectre of Vort...what if that Spectre could hit them from anywhere?"

Rub did not immediately answer. His attention drifted to the inferno taking hold of the streets and buildings that he was moments ago overlooking. This disgusting scent of Irken flesh burning mingled with the black, billowing clouds of smoke as an orange haze cast light across ruined glass facades and crumbling stonework.

"...leaving our home to its fate is cowardice." He finally reasoned, looking back at his elder sister. "Retreating vhile our comrades fight on for the off-chance of making a difference reeks of cowardice."

She sighed, removing her helmet to look him in the eyes, "Why do you think I'm still here? All our teams are still here. We're staying here, making what difference we can right now. We won't leave until the last possible moment we have of lifting off. I promise you, brother, we'll stay as long as we can, even if the brass wants us gone before that." She gestured to her own armor suit, "I know you don't rely on fancy equipment, but what we have might be to your liking. Aside from enhancements that you saw, these have cloaking devices built in."

He looked to his brother standing beside her, his expression one lacking confidence in her claims.

"Does that explain why you put a man who cannot even write his own name in one? Does it increase intelligence?"

Ruk drew his revolver and spun it in his hands before stopping it, perfectly positioned to cock it. "I may not know how to read or vrite too vell, but these suits are rather intuitive. You know as vell as I do they need me for our family's skills as hunters and trackers, not to vrite poetry or read bedtime stories."

The Vortian marksman contemplated, standing there in his soiled uniform from his weeks-long one-man army war waged against the Irken invading his home. This proposal of working together with a team, with special forces, left him conflicted. Better training, better armaments, better everything than the rank-and-file...but more risk for detection. Higher risk for failure. His success was attributed to how quickly he could move in and out of an area of operation. Unless the same could be accomplished with all members of a team being like-minded and swift, it would be a result of their inevitable fall.

Something that was becoming more and more apparent each passing day. The sting of Reeshara's words still echoed in his mind. How inconsequential his "success" against the Empire had been. No matter the rank, no matter the number of kills etched into his stock...more of them came. More would follow.

A weary sigh escaped his lips finally, looking to his elder sister.

"Very vell...if vhat you propose vill lead to decisive victory over the Empire rather than a death by a thousand cuts as we are bled dry...I vill join you."

Reeshara placed a hand on her brother's shoulder, a sinister smirk on her face. "Welcome aboard, Spectre. I'll introduce you to the rest of your team back at base. You already met one of them." She gestured her head in Ruk's direction as she donned her helmet. "Yardos Sector Command, this is Arbiter, requesting dropship, over."

A dropship came for the group, flying low to avoid Irken AA, picking them up and bringing them back to base. Reeshara brought Rub to a staging room segregated and heavily guarded specifically for the group. Inside, a set of armor waiting for Rub. She left him inside to clean himself off and suit up, watching her brother emerge with the finest gear the VDF and Navy's Special Forces had available to them.

"You still clean up good," Reeshara grinned and put a hand on her younger brother's shoulder. "Welcome to the fiercest group of Vortians that'll send a chill down the collective spine of the Empire."

Tha, meanwhile, was talking to Nomad, her team's scout, handing him a camera as she walked over, with Ruk wandering over just moments before. "Hey, guys, I think we should get a family picture."

Ruk eyeballed his sister with an odd look. "Vhy? Are ve not supposed to be a secret unit?"

"Well, yeah, but this may be the last Ahko family reunion we have in a while. Mharo over there is willing to take a photo for us, old fashioned camera too. Four pictures, one copy for each of us."

Reeshara first looked to Ruk, who simply shrugged in reply before looking to her brother, "Up to you, Rub."

Still getting used to the augmented, armored suit, Rub stood there. He watched the articulation of the synthetic fibers and joints fluidly glide and move to match his input. For something so inhibiting and heavy-looking, it felt weightless. A part of him. A far cry better than standard issue uniforms and equipment.

He overheard his sister's suggestion behest their cousin.

"In more vays than one...this may be the last time ve see each other alive." He morbidly addressed the reality of their situation. "Something to remind one another in the darkest of times vhy ve continue...if it'll keep you going vhen you can no longer muster the energy or courage, then so be it."

Reeshara nodded, Tha coming over to join the group. Nomad took four photos. Tha herself smiling, helmet in hand. Reeshara and Ruk seemed to remain stoic, though the sister had one arm around each of her brothers' shoulders. With the developed photos in hand, Nomad walked over and handed one to each of them. The cyan armored cousin simply sighed, "We make it out of this alive, drinks are on me."

"Vell, if ve don't, ve can drink with our fallen family and ancestors in the afterlife." Ruk seemed to echo his brother's sentiments. If Reeshara came to grab him, their situation was looking dire long term. "All the same, ve vill make the Irken pay."

Rub took the fresh photo of his remaining family members. Maybe more were alive. Maybe they were it. The latter seemed to be the painful truth given the extent of devastation Vort had suffered in a short amount of time. Entire families and bloodlines wiped from existence beneath the Irken war machine.

Unable to place it in a uniform pocket like he had before, one of the pouches at his waist became its new home. The tattered, crumpled surviving photograph of Ora, Mur, and himself taken a few short months ago was now joined by the new one. Both were motivators for different reasons. One to remind him of what he had lost and why his anger burned like a star with nearly-infinite fuel. The other something to live for and protect what remained where he could not before.

"...for the record, brukva." Rub began, looking to his identical sibling. "Poetry is relaxing. Soon as you learn the alphabet, I recommend giving it a try sometime."

Ruk shot his twin a look, "I know how to read…to an extent." He was a hermit, self educated, but at a far lower level than those present. With little need to write, his script was atrocious in practice. Skills sure to come in time given his new profession, drafted into the war.

Reeshara gestured to Rub, "Come on, I'll fill you in on what's going on with Evarus Team headed to Devastis."

That particular file ended right there, at the mention of Devastis and an operation that would take place there. There's more data on the disc, but no mention of Evarus' camera footage or documents. More went on than the cadets realized…

The group went into a room with three other Vortians, two males and a female. One was older and didn't appear to be a warrior type, the other male armored similarly to them; the female was in standard pilot armor. The younger male, with light blue skin and dark blue eyes quickly rose to attention as the group of officers entered the room.

"As you were, Avtamas," the man sat back down as Reeshara responded and turned to her brother. "Meet your team, Spectre. You're now the leader of Dyrkas team. First up is Doc," she gestured to the doctor, with gray-blue skin and red eyes, who walked over and extended a hand to Rub.

"Doctor Osa'Buhk, at your service, Lieutenant." The man's name was something of prominence in the Vortian medical community. A wise doctor and an excellent surgeon, though he never served in the VDF. Even now, as a civilian, he dedicated himself to saving lives. While they were still on Vort, he'd lend as much help as he could to the regulars. Though, when the time came, Reeshara requested him personally to watch over her brothers' medical needs. "I must say, sir, your reputation fits as the Spectre of Vort from the look of you."

Rub had never been much for socializing. Equally through an upbringing isolated from much of Vort and his disposition of being the strong, silent type, many mistook this for being rude. He earnestly said nothing unless he had something to say or directly questioned. Nevertheless, he did his best to at least be amicable towards these people.

"Doctor," Rub nodded, returning the offered handshake and a nod.

"Cap," Reeshara gestured for her to come over.

Shika'Numati, a woman with gray skin and brown eyes rose and walked over, snapping to attention and saluting, clearly prior service.

"Relax, Numati, I haven't reinstated you, remember?"

"Yes, ma'mn, but still conveying respect," her attention turned to Rub, "Lieutenant, I'm Shika'Numati, retired Navy. Used to pilot frigates, kept up my skills piloting freighters.I've been taken on as your starship pilot." Her credentials saw her facing down a lot of pirates in her days in the fleet. Even a number of times she's been up close to Armada vessels. She also had some sense as a ship engineer, knowing the best places to breach from space in a boarding action.

The ship pilot looked him over in the armor, looking over the man she's heard much about before Ruk spoke up, "It is impolite to stare."

"Sorry," she blinked, "It's just not often you get to meet someone with the reputation of a ghost that you don't even know is real or not. They're talking of at least a hundred dead Irken officers by his hand."

"108, actually." Rub corrected. No change in his tone or dialect. No welling of pride or arrogance in his ability. Just cold fact.

Shika seemed amazed from the look on her face. "Damn glad to work with the man himself." As she stepped back, Reeshara motioned for the last man to step forward.

"This is the third man of your team. Need someone competent with tech seeing as how Ruk is lacking."

The man nodded, "Poddekanas Erko'Avtamas," he started his introduction, a Lance Corporal in the VDF, technically even outranking Ruk now. "They call me Static. Don't mind my rank, sir, I'm a veteran of Praxxus. I worked with some SF teams when the Irken attacked and we were there on training. Spent that time hunting down their Spec Ops behind our lines."

"Are you sure you can keep up vith us, Static?" Ruk asked of him.

"That I can. I knew what I was getting into when Arbiter asked if I was willing to work with you. Either keep up, or be left behind. I'll do the former, count on it."

"So long as you understand that," Rub made clear. "From vhat she has told me, ve are to begin striking at the sources of this plague to stem its growth. Conventional tactics vill not vork."

"Correct, sir. Ma'mn, you have the floor."

Reeshara walked up to a console in the center of the room, typing away on the holographic display as several displays came up, two profiles of Navy special forces members and Devastis itself. "It's a suicide mission, but they volunteered. If they succeed, they'll strike fear into the Irken, knowing we can hit them where they most feel safe. It's a two man op, their goals are to assassinate a number of Irken officers and completely level as many facilities their reinforcements come from if we can."

The elder of the Ahko siblings let out a sigh, "If we're still here, things may get real ugly real fast...that's worst estimates. My guess? They won't risk showing any weaknesses in their armor to keep other species from getting any bright ideas " A few more keystrokes and a couple more windows appeared. One a profile of Supreme Commander Grimm the other of High General Yarnitch, a black eyed, dark green skinned Irken of the Imperial Troopers, the two highest ranking Irken on Vort. "I've got a job perfectly suited for my brothers...a hunt for the most dangerous game...the two commanders overseeing the invasion and occupation of our homeworld."

The window of Devastis was soon replaced by an image of the mostly intact, but still damaged, Kathos City Hall. By now, this was far behind Irken lines. "We've dug up signals that indicate both Grimm and Yarnitch are having a meeting here. We've got days before this meeting happens, but this is the best shot we've got to give us a reprieve, maybe even push back their offensive while they find replacements. What do you think, Rub, sound up your alley?"

Rub studied the projected map, leaning forward to grip the railing surrounding the device. His eyes searched all the various angles from surrounding buildings to Kathos City Hall. The mind of the hunter already at work where best to pick his perch to bag his quarry.

"This vill not be easy," He finally acknowledged, noting the distance behind the line in enemy-controlled territory. "Assuming ve are able to make the vindow that these two vill be present undetected, the sector and those that surround it are firmly in Irken hands."

"They are, but I'm confident in the Ahko's legendary abilities of the hunt that you can make it." She gestured to the armor he now wore, "That's going to be a big help to you. Static will give you a brief run through before you go on how to work these. If Ruk can pick this up, I think you can too." His sister looked at the pathway she thought her brother was looking at...a stretch to be sure, but for a pair of Ahkos? She thought it possible. "This may be our one chance to get the bastards together. Otherwise it's either Grimm or Yarnitch. I'd rather both have a nice hole bored through their heads."

"Generals are more difficult to replace than Lieutenants," Rub morbidly mused out loud as he stood upright once more, rolling his head to pop his neck once. "So long as he can keep up, it vill be done."

Reeshara placed her hands on her brother's shoulder, practically grinning, "Unloto vor Vortoten Moydo Akho… Good hunting, bruvka."

Her younger brother gave a single nod of affirmation. The closest thing she was going to get in terms of endearment and affection beneath the circumstances. He wasn't entirely convinced of the potential of this unit. VDF was stretched thin and being ground into the dust through attrition. Nevertheless, they still had to try.

"Vhen do ve depart? I vant as much time to reconnaissance the area as possible before their arrival."

"As soon as you're able. Talk to Static and let him run you through the suit's features, grab enough provisions for the three of you, and get going. One of the dropships can get you as close to the lines as possible without risking getting shot down. You can go on foot from there."

"You heard her, Ruk," Rub addressed his identical twin as he turned about to find their communications specialist. "Prepare rations and vater. Travel light. Ve'll procure on-site vhatever else is needed."

"Right avay," Reeshara pointed him towards the supply area where he could get their provisions. Static meanwhile, stood up and donned his helmet, giving a nod to Rub.

"Follow me, sir," the comms and tech expert led him into a specialized holographic training simulator, not unlike what was employed by the Irken. "Your suit has several modes. The current mode you're in now is passive for the most part, gives you armor protection from kinetic threats like grenade fragments, crashing through a window, a higher than usual fall, but don't think you can go jumping off a skyscraper. Integrated neural net in the suit can change modes as you need it to a speed enhancement, strength enhancement, and active camouflage. Vision modes include a suite for infrared, EM, and night vision. Yours in particular also has the sniper package someone like you would be used to, including tactical binoculars to mark your targets on your HUD."

A few taps on a keyboard, he pulled up an assassination scenario for Rub to test the suit out himself.

"Give it a try, sir."

"Save the simulations for another time," he declined, a pragmatic type who learned by first-hand participation rather than training. "Just give me a basic rundown and how to deploy these modes. I'll figure it out as I go."

Static nodded and turned off the simulation as quick as it started and came down. "Two ways. Neural net will simply run off your thoughts. The other way is an augmented reality method the designers put in as a backup." He demonstrated, putting his hand up, palm towards his face and moving his hand to his right then closed his hand, the suit's muscle fibers glowing red as his suit's strength mode activated. "Neural net, just simply think 'engage strength mode' and it'll do the same thing. Like for cloak mode…" Without saying a word, the man in front of him practically disappeared, if not for keen eyes and thermal vision. "Speed mode, armor mode, strength mode, cloak mode. Those are the four main modes I think you should be concerned about going into this. Anything more advanced we can run you through when time isn't pressing."

Rub mimicked his movements, bringing up the interface in his HUD as he moved his hand. Leaving it to thought alone was too risky. Concentrations could waiver under extreme duress. For now, he focused on having a general understanding of the equipment he wore.

"Very complex...a lot to malfunction at the wrong time." He mused out loud, allowing his palm to drop to his side.

"Yeah, it can be, unfortunately the Irken forced us to break out these next-gen armors pretty damn early." Static reappeared as his suit reverted to armor mode. "Good soldier would only see these as an enhancement to innate abilities anyhow."

Ruk himself appeared at the door, now wearing a pack with 5 gallons worth of water and a day and a half of rations for each of them. It was light enough. Canned food would have to do on site, most everything else was bound to be looted or spoiled… He also packed water purification tablets in case they needed them.

"Hey, Ruk, heads up," she threw him a new scoped semi-automatic rifle and started putting magazine pouches onto his waist, "you're going to need a better weapon. That single shot rifle is going to get you killed if you get into a hairy situation." Ruk quietly nodded, looking the rifle over, though he kept his hunting rifle on him, at least this time, he wanted something he trusted when it came time to make the shot. Once he practiced with this rifle, he'd be ready to leave it in the armory.

"Ready to go when you are, Rub."

"Numati, depart in 5." Rub addressed their pilot, taking up the provisions Ruk procured for him, settling the supplies onto his back in preparation to leave.

"Roger that, sir," the pilot got up and started running towards the stealth dropship they had at their disposal. Osa himself followed, though he'd be waiting for them with her. Static took his own small pack from Ruk and threw it over his back.

A black Vortian dropship had engines going, waiting for the passengers. Once inside, she took off and flew as low to the ground as she could, avoiding any Irken radar coverage by using ground clutter and buildings to their advantage. "Sir, where am I dropping you guys off?"

Sitting opposite his twin brother in the rear bay of the shuttle, Rub brought up the intel uploaded to his visor by Reeshara. A few swipes and taps, he plotted out a very loose direction of approach and landing zone based on the information given. Avoiding detection was the utmost importance. Behind that was ensuring they could get as close as feasibly possible to quickly get into position and so the shuttle would not be compromised and immediately targeted.

"Kathos City Hall is Sector 9-5-1 is vhere our objective lays. Relaying approach vectors now. The closer you can get us under their radar vithout endangering yourself, the better. Put us on the ground, ve'll do the rest."

"Copy that, sir," she maneuvers their ship carefully, taking advantage of the route Rub pointed out that used some of the natural terrain to their advantage, a gap in the Irken lines giving them a route through. Even if someone spotted them, what Irken commander would believe a Vortian ship would fly right over their lines with anti-air coverage being what it is? Smart, she liked it.

As she moved closer, passive scanners on her HUD saw massive AA nets going up and even soldiers with infrared setting up on rooftops. All the stealth in the world wouldn't put a damper on her engines in atmosphere. Scanning areas Rub pointed out for infiltration, she chose the industrial sector several kilometers away from the city hall. The perfect spot was a bombed out factory, putting the dropship down over the fallen roof and debris below.

"Here we are, sir. Can't get you much closer or exfil is screwed. Looks like they're already setting up for something big."

Not needing told twice, Rub unfastened his harness and rose to his feet. Stepping towards the rear of the craft, his fist hit the switch to open the bay door.

"You two, on me." He spared them not a glance as he stepped off the craft onto the still-smoldering rubble of the collapsed factory they landed inside of. "Numati, monitor traffic. If their AA tightens up any further, I vant you out of here before it does. Don't vorry about us."

"Understood, Lieutenant," their pilot responded as Ruk and Static rose to their feet and stepped out, following Rub. The Doctor pulled up a terminal and began monitoring vital signs and their helmet feeds. Their first mission, and one that didn't particularly faze Static himself.

He moved flawlessly, setting up some overwatch nearby. They were, after all, far behind enemy lines. Ruk himself settled to get his bearings, he was also examining the map for possible locations. Though, at the same time, he kept an eye on Rub, ready to go whenever it came.

Unslinging the rifle from his back, Rub took point. A brief moment to interact with his suit's interface, the cloak shrouded him from the visible spectrum save for a faint shimmer of light bending around his outline.

"Stay close, bruvka." Rub relayed through their closed communications. "Vatch me and follow my lead. Stay quiet and out of sight."

The other two followed Rub, Ruk giving a nod before cloaking as well, followed by their third who disappeared on the move. The three were able to track each other easy enough with their HUD.

Getting closer to city hall, the Irken were busy setting up AA batteries, defensive posts, and making other preparations to make doubly sure the area was secure for the arrival of Grimm and Yarnitch. There were a number of Vortian civilians herded into the city's jail by the Irkens, now being moved by Imperial Troopers elsewhere. First due to the visit, the second reason was likely for processing into slavery in the Empire.

In the city's former park, a number of Irken were busy tossing bodies into mass graves, Vortian scum in one and Irken dead in another, after removing their PAKs had they not self destructed, by some malfunction, placed into a pile to be destroyed by explosives. A number of office buildings near the city hall granted a good vantage point, and there were many others farther out with similar coverage.

Intelligence put the meeting taking place in the front of the building opposite their landing zone in the mayor's former office. Even in the distance, there were apparent buildings that fit the bill. Rub led his team discreetly under the veil of their personal cloaks through the surface streets. Block-by-block, avoiding patrols and those standing guard on street corners, he brought them to a halt with a silent hand signal within sight of their objective.

"Bruvka," he began, taking a knee with a gesture for him to approach and get a similar line-of-sight. His other hand rose, pointing. "Office building. Ten'o'clock. Fifth floor. Set up there, vindow of your choice. Vhichever gives you the clearest sight line to the objective."

Ruk zoomed in on the building and nodded, "Can do."

Static kept an eye on their surroundings, "Should I follow him or go with you, sir?"

Turning his attention away from Ruk as he took off, he looked to Static.

"Go vith him. I move faster on my own. A good shot he may be, a soldier he is not." Rub addressed the facts of the matter before turning to the opposite side of the square, across the way from where Ruk would eventually be posted. "I vill be in that building there, eight floor, third vindow from the left."

"Roger that, sir," Static responded, turning to Ruk, "you're the hunter, lead on. I got your back." Ruk nodded in reply, heading off towards their building, moving quietly inside.

Imperial Troopers were inside, clearing the entire building room by room, making sure no Vortian civilians, or soldiers for that matter, were left inside. Fortunately for Ruk and Static, they only cleared the floors going up and not a double check as they came back down. It left the two men an opening to move in and examine the floors. Ruk found the perfect room, giving him an excellent line of sight on the mayor's office.

"I have a room, ve are the sixth vindow from the right of where we were standing previously." Once his spot was chosen, and the Imperial Troopers out of the building, Ruk went to work setting up his position to lie in wait. He passed by his second on overwatch several times as he moved, "I suggest you find a position to watch our backs. I vould prefer not to be shot by some curious Irken."

Static nodded, "Right, I'll find some place to lay low."

"Understood." Rub confirmed visually, zooming in with the aid of his goggles. Manually marking the position as a temporary waypoint for reference, he did the same for his future nest to be, relaying it to Ruk and Static's displays.

Once his team was in position, Rub moved to do the same. Carefully avoiding an Irken Elite patrol in the streets, he slipped inside the devastated interior of one of many downtown office buildings around the square. Already a fast and quiet mover from experience in a lifestyle that required it for survival long before his service in the VDF, the cloak made him virtually invisible and unheard. His callsign of Spectre was not only for show.

Climbing seven flights of stairs and ascending the eight with his sidearm drawn, he stopped in his tracks with a hissed curse, pushing himself up against the wall as the sound of metal boots rasping against stone floors grew in crescendo from around the corner.

A moment later, a pair of Irken Elite entered the stairwell, mere feet from the cloaked Vortian. The pair conversed through their vox-casters, modulating their voices ever so slightly with electronic distortion as they passed, moving to begin descending down the stairwell.

"You hear about Major Gurn?"

"Our Division commander?"

"Yeah."

"No, what happened?"

"The Spectre got him. One shot, center mass."

"How do they know it was him? Could have been any sniper."

"Not too many of these goats can hit a moving target at extreme range like that."

"You didn't answer my question."

"How should I know? I just heard it from Captain Roon."

"Assuming it was him...why do you think it was him?"

"Guy's notorious for picking off anyone lucky enough to be Lieutenant and up. Some of his men saw the plasma bolt originate over 2 clicks away. He was standing on a moving vehicle in a convoy. That's not an easy shot."

"Wait...Sector 8-6-6?"

"Yeah, the one that got turned into glass shortly thereafter."

"Doesn't sound like the Spectre...the shot does, but not the barrage. VDF marksmen operate independently from their infantry. Never heard of them calling in ordnance or artillery."

"Doesn't matter. They'll be dealt with soon enough. The barrage originated from Sector 8-5-5. Ring Cutters vaporized the site after that little short-lived victory."

The other Elite chuckled. Rub did not find it as amusing as he ground his teeth, suppressing the urge to take both of them by surprise. Something likely Reeshara was already aware of, the result of their actions. While an entire column of armor and supporting infantry were reduced to molten slag in the city streets, it cost them another artillery battery.

Instinctively, the Vortian marksman slowly gripped his sheathed vibroblade, drawing it from the small of his back. The pair of Elites, now a flight below him, perked their antenna up.

"You hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Shh…" Silence. "...sounded like something metal scraping."

"Pick your feet up when you walk."

"Hah, funny."

The pair lingered only a few more seconds before continuing down the stairwell. Rub breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing as his blade returned to its home. They would be back, assuming patrols were routine.

Wasting no time, the Lieutenant continued his sweep of the office floor, eventually making it to his chosen area to set up shop in. Wary of the amount of noise he was making, Rub moved diligently about. A early-warning motion sensor from his equipment went up in the hallway, facing the stairwell at the other end. Syncing it with his HUD, he had literal eyes in the back of his head and would be warned whenever they returned. Plenty of time to cloak himself without running down the energy of his suit to maintain it at all times.

After several minutes, Rub had arranged furniture to his liking. A heavy, wooden desk provided shelter as he lay prone beneath it, his aged rifle resting atop a small stack of bricks from the exterior rubble. A torn piece of fabric was wrapped around his rifle as a makeshift rest to place atop the bricks for more uniform contact and soften any noise caused by shifting and moving about.

"Bruvka, Static," He addressed quietly, his optic squarely focused on the window of the target room. Between him and Ruk, they would have most of it visible and improve their chances of success. "I am in position. Maintain radio silence unless it is absolutely necessary to transmit. Begin four hour vatch rotations. Take notes of patrols, their locations, and at vhat times."

Ruk's hide was similar, using a fallen cabinet as a seat, tattered curtains for camouflage, using half of the formerly intact desk as a rest. Like Rub, he had a piece of fabric wrapped around his rifle as well, having drawn his single shot rifle for the task. His was more modern, but from the same generation of rifles as their family heirloom his brother carried, geared for hunters and target shooters rather than a soldier. He made himself comfortable, the link to Static's HUD giving him a heads up of any incoming adversaries.

"Understood, sir," Static replied over the comms first, quietly..

"Set up myself, bruvka. Good hunting," Ruk replied as he settled in for a long wait.

Three Days Later...

Outside, a constant fury of Elites and Imperial Troopers began setting up the areas. The Elites themselves were fewer in number compared to the Troopers, but this area was deemed "secure enough" for a hand off, until this meeting between Grimm and Yarnitch. During the wait, Numati alerted Rub that she was forced to move the shuttle twenty kilometers down the road into the ruins of a bank, noticing some encroaching AA and a few foot patrols that passed through the industrial sector. Extraction would be somewhat harder, but not impossible.

Once initial setup was complete, the patrols became more constant, predictable, easily noted by the brothers as they watched. Though an occasional glance into the office buildings were made by Troopers from time to time, once they were deemed cleared, it seems little attention was paid. They seemed to have no worry about the Spectre of Vort in friendly territory.

Yarnitch arrived in an acquired Vortian luxury car, gaining him the sneers of several Irken, the Empire's insignia spray painted onto the doors. He had to make do with what he had at hand, as everything else, including vehicles, was earmarked towards the continual offensive. The High General walked inside, saluted by guarding Troopers and Elites, and made his way to the mayor's office.

Supreme Commander Grimm himself arrived minutes later, himself eyeballing the Vortian vehicle with disdain, wondering why his counterpart would use such a filthy thing. Likewise gaining salutes from the men, he joined his counterpart in the mayor's office.

"Ah, High General Yarnitch. Good of you to come, we have much to discuss before the joint briefing to the Tallest of our progress."

"I presume General Vaukt won't be joining us, still?"

"Does that Speckie ever show his face at meetings?" Grimm's tone indicated disdain for the Spec Ops commander, despite working for him many times previously. "The man always claims to be busy with one thing or another. He'll be joining us via hologram, as usual."

"Typical Vaukt...if some operation doesn't pull him off at the last minute so he can brief the Tallest alone."

"As always with that man. I swear, he has nothing but contempt for Elites and Troopers…" The Supreme Commander walked over to a table, grabbing himself a juicebox before sitting across the desk from Yarnitch, both men perfectly positioned for the brothers. Ruk had a perfect bead on Grimm and Rub on Yarnitch. Done right...two Generals would be down with one swoop.

Aside from the occasional need to relieve himself or ensure fatigue did not set in, Rub remained motionless leading up to the increase in activity. The trio had taken turns maintaining constant surveillance, coming up with an impromptu play book of what patrol would be where at what time.

With Grimm and Yarnitch's arrival, Rub set aside a partially-finished ration, settling in behind his rifle once more.

"Look alive," he announced over their encrypted communications channel. "Visual on targets, confirm?"

Ruk moved in, mid refilling his water pack when the call went out. Static resumed his place on overwatch as Ruk settled in behind his own rifle, looking through the scope, his suit's sniper augmentations kicking in and displaying on his HUD. "I have a target, it looks like the Elite commander." Ruk made several adjustments to his scope given the data from his suit, coupled with observations from outside. What Reeshara said was right...this really was a massive augment to natural abilities. He took a breath, prepped to fire when the time was right. "Ready whenever you are."

"Numati," Rub addressed, making a fine-tune adjustment to his optics before settling back in and preparing to take aim. "Prep for extraction and standby. You vill know vhen to meet us at the rendezvous. I doubt this vill go unnoticed."

"Got it, sir, warming up the engines now."

Static had also set up some equipment to listen in on any conversations over the comms. Once he dialed in on the Irken's frequency used for the meeting, he made sure his suit recorder was functional as he listened in. Could be valuable information to give the VDF an edge.

Within the mayor's office, the holographic emitter at the center of the desk where Grimm and Yarnitch were present, General Vaukt's image projected.

"I do hope this meeting is for a productive reason beyond flaunting your respective clouts, Generals. The Tallest are growing impatient with our lack of progress as it is. I do hope this isn't another round of finger-pointing seeing as your branches are halting MY progress. The Irken Elite have overextended and are taking far too many casualties while the Imperial Troopers are unable to keep up. There is a literal gap in logistics and security. Unlike you two, I do not have millions of soldiers at my command and cannot pick up your slack. Do either of you have a solution to this problem or should I just spend my time elsewhere while you bicker?"

Grimm looked to Vaukt's holographic image with a deadpan. "Halting your progress? Oh, sorry, glorious leader, perhaps you would like to take command of the entire operation?"

"The man has a point. There's gaps in the supply lines, my men are having to guard numerous POW camps, not to mention deal with partisan activity that your people apparently missed on the way forward."

"My people? That's something coming from the man who hopes we eliminate all meaningful resistance before moving in." It was turning into exactly what Vaukt wanted to avoid, even though Spec Ops out of all the branches in the invasion was proceeding on schedule. Any gains they made were soon lost due to the inability of the Elites to break the VDF in several locations. The Tallest themselves have even ordered him to cease continuing his offensives until Grimm and Yarnitch could catch up, much to his dismay.

"At least one of you is listening to reason." Vaukt commented, unphased by Grimm's arrogance. "We are stuck in a vicious cycle. The front is grinding to a halt, no matter how quickly reinforcements arrive. I am not going to overextend like some of us have, but I will not be tied down by the dead weight of your incompetence either, Grimm."

He paused, bringing up a holographic projection on his end within the simulated image to display Vort and current strategic markers of Empire forces across the planet.

"Yarnitch's troops cannot maintain the pace you are setting. They must set up and secure logistics, infrastructure, and pull security on occupied territory. It doesn't take a smeet to see what is going to happen very soon should this continue. Gaps will form in the front, the VDF will reinforce, and they WILL flank your Irken Elite and entrap your divisions. Surely you have a better strategy other than "throw enough men at the problem until it goes away"."

The Supreme Commander sighed loudly, "I plan on attacking Sector 8-5-5. The Ringcutters reported they reduced the area to rubble but I'm going to make sure that artillery is destroyed. My troops are capable. They won't be encircled."

Yarnitch pointed out several places as he spoke, "Really? Because I see Sector 8-6-1, 8-6-8, 8-7-1, and 8-7-4 and 6 all at risk of being breached and encircled if the VDF were to break through. My men are dozens of kliks away in those locations and have faced heavy resistance from both armed civilians and VDF pockets that, once again, you missed on your advance. Vaukt has a point. Either you slow down, or this may as well be a repeat of Impending Doom 1 all over again."

"Who's side are you on?"

"Ours, obviously, I'm pointing these out so, you know, we don't lose. Or maybe you'd like to explain to the Tallest how you failed, again, because you Elites think so highly of yourselves."

"Maybe if someone could pick up the pace." Grimm's hand clenched into a fist, growing rather angry at Yarnitch. If it weren't for the Tallest trusting him with the security on Vort, he would consider arranging a little...accident for his counterpart for his insolence.

"Why are you faulting him for following his orders? The front would have fully collapsed by now had his forces continued at the pace your Irken Elite are setting. You would have no relief. No resupply. No rearmament. You barely have that now because you are impatient, Grimm." Varkt cut to the heart of the matter. "We have secured air superiority. The VDF cannot obtain aid off-world. We can and will starve them out over time. There is literally no reason to continue this pace."

Rub continued to listen into the feed while Static eavesdropped. So all was not going according to plan, it seemed. His crosshairs remained fixated on Yarnitch throughout the exchange, biding his time. Never interrupt an opponent when they were making a mistake after all.

"The goal is to surround their government in their capital and starve them out, Vaukt. You know that, I know that, our slow and meticulous Trooper leader here knows that. I intend to continue towards that objective, whether you both like it or not. The Tallest put me in command of this operation, not either of you. We should just level entire blocks we find resistance in. It's much easier to clean up rubble than it is to clear a building."

Yarnitch shook his head, "You know, it's very hard to govern a conquered world if there's nothing left to govern, you stubborn fool."

"Blocks would not required being leveled if you took the time to clear those sectors before proceeding." Vaukt plainly addressed. "Regardless...until the two of you come up with a workable solution, my progress is at a standstill. I can only advance so far beyond the front to remain effective."

Getting the feeling any other useful information to be gleaned from the exchange was running its course, Rub disengaged the safety of his rifle.

"Bruvka, confirm visual on target?"

Rub called in, Ruk pulled back an external hammer that was both the safety and part of the rifle's design, modeling the antiquated rifles of older times. In his rifle, it served to trigger the firing sequence, as everything was self contained in the rifle itself, save for individual cartridges, much like Rub's own. "I have the quarry in my sight, bruvka."

Rub twisted his head, popping his neck once for relief before welding his cheek to the stock. Slow, steady breathes as he had done countless times before. Just under a couple of hundred meters. Nothing extreme, but the weight of success was crushing. He could not miss. They may never have a chance like this again.

"Taking the shot...fire on my mark." Rub relayed.

His optic crosshairs zoomed in on Yarnitch. His back was turned to the window, likely addressing his fellow high officers. His point of aim rested on the back of the Irken's head. A slow, steady press of the trigger followed as he held his breath.

"You brat, if I had my way, you would be a head shorter!" Grimm's fist slammed on the desk, knocking off his drink.

When Rub gave the mark, Ruk had already taken the slack out of his trigger, both brothers firing at nearly the same time.

"Why is it whenever someone points out your weakness you ki-" glass shattered in the room as Grimm started to lean down to pick up his juice box. A large hole of plasma drove through Yarnitch's head, right between his eyes, the Trooper General falling to his knees before falling forward onto his face.

Grimm, meanwhile, screamed in agony as the near miss from Ruk's shot severely burned the left side of his face and head. It was an assassination attempt...one he narrowly avoided. He writhed on the floor in pain as a pair of Troopers burst into the room. "WHAT ARE YOU FOOLS STANDING THERE FOR?! RAISE THE ALARM!"

The Troopers ran out of the room with Grimm as Ruk reloaded his rifle, trying to line up a second shot himself. He cursed himself under his breath as Grimm narrowly escaped what was coming to him, out of range right as he lined up. There wasn't time to reposition as down below Troopers and Elites alike started a search for the assailants. Grimm soon came over the radio to the Irken "I want these Vortians taken breathing you hear me?! Barely breathing!"

Rub saw the result of play out a split-second after the shot was taken. His target had the contents of his skull emptied through the freshly-cauterized hole in his head, dead before he came to rest on the floor.

Unfortunately, he saw a very animate Grimm still drawing breath clutching at his scalded face as Irken soldiers burst into the room. A sneering growl escaped his mouth as he actuated the bolt of his rifle. Just as he was about to take a second shot and pick up his brother's slack, Grimm was whisked out of the room, away from the windows.

"Damn it!" He cursed. His frustration had to be vented later. "Pack it up, move to extraction before they close off our escape."

Vaukt remained on-channel, watching it all play out. Aside from his own startled jump hearing the nearly-simultaneous gunshots ring out and claim one of their two victims, he breathed an annoyed sigh before severing the transmission.

Ruk picked up his spent casing and stowed it, moving out into the hall with Static, the two men moving out while cloaked. Elites and Troopers alike started storming buildings to look for snipers. The hermit had left behind an explosive trap with a pair of plasma grenades strapped to a proximity mine. The second hunter and his comrade were long out of the building when an Elite approached the nest and moved a curtain, setting off the explosive and causing the collapse of several floors.

It was a wise move, at least, it'd focus the Irken's attention as they made their way towards their extraction point, draw them away from the direction they had to move.

While his brother and Static made their escape from across the square, Rub did much of the same. Having spent the past few days lying in wait, he had plenty of time to contemplate and plan. Rudimentary scans of the structure and his own experience in traversing similar buildings gave him multiple paths of escape. Two was one, one was none. Being so deep behind Irken lines and vastly outnumbered, it would be suicide to tempt outright confrontation of enemy forces alone.

Instead, he moved swiftly and silently as fast as his feet would carry him. Cloaked and nearly invisible to the naked eye, rifle slung across his back, he sprinted down the hallway. The fastest way out would to be retrace his steps the same way he came in. The alarm finally raised outside, sending the square into a flurry of activity as the klaxons blared. Irken Elite and Imperial Troopers alike moved to seal off all intersections into the square and start combing the area for the assassins. Orders were being relayed outside, a cacophony of boots scrambling across the pavement to carry out commands.

Rub entered the stairwell, skidding to a halt at the railing overlooking the center all the way to the ground floor. The exterior door was promptly kicked in in a shower of splinters and broken glass. Irken Elite stacked up outside flooded in, checking corners and promptly moved to clear the building, floor-by-floor. Far too many to engage alone. With unfamiliar, untested equipment, he wasn't going to take any unnecessary risk than he already had.

Falling back to another route, Rub ascended the last two flights of stairs until he reached the very top of the stairwell. The door to the rooftop was sealed shut. Wasting no time, the Vortian brought his double-jointed leg up, curling it before delivering a powerful kick to the barrier standing between him and escape. Expecting the lock to break and the door to swing open, he was mildly surprised as the hinges shattered and the metal door crumpled around the imprint of his suit-encased foot. The ruined door skidded a few feet to a halt, giving him free reign over the rooftop.

Evasion was nothing new to him as a marksman. He and his sibling had kicked over the hornet's nest and remaining unseen was of the utmost priority. That meant moving fast and erratically. Reduce line-of-sight, keep them guessing, and never stop running. Well-conditioned and impressively built for a man of his age and stature, Rub sprinted across the rooftop. Each stride longer than the last, the augmentation of the suit carried him at a speed he could never have hoped to reach naturally. So much so he was nearly caught-off guard at how quickly the edge of the roof came, forcing him to push off into a leap later than anticipated.

Clearing the street ten stories below, he fell short of opposite rooftop. Rather than risk falling to his death, the sniper curled up, tucking in tight as he smashed through the top floor window of the building in a shower of broken glass. A feat that would have left him shredded to ribbons had he not been wearing the armored suit. Maybe this gear wasn't so bad after all.

Ruk and Static proceeded along their own route, only stopping briefly at times to let suit energy recover before continuing on. This was unfamiliar to Ruk in the sheer volume. He's been used to having to deal with hostile wildlife, a reason he carried his revolver when hunting, a high powered beast stopper of a more defensive variety. The two men were crouched down on an office rooftop, just about to make a jump across a large road onto a factory roof in the industrial quarter.

"Shouldn't we wait for the Lieutenant?"

"He'll make it. I'm not vorried about him." Just then, a slam of the door as six Elites poured out, Ruk drew his revolver, pulling back the hammer as Static readied his weapon, but both remained hidden, reactivating their cloak modes as they swept the roof. In one particular close call, Ruk moved back behind a non-functional air conditioning unit, nearly spotted by an Elite. Pistol raised and prepared to kill, but when the Irken saw himself satisfied finding nothing, the squad moved back inside. He let out a sigh of relief and softly lowered the hammer of his sidearm.

Then they were back on the move, many converging on his former nest that had detonated only a couple minutes ago. Making their way towards a ruined bank, and their ride out of enemy lines.

While Ruk and Static awaited Rub for the rendezvous, he recovered from his slight miscalculation in inertia. Picking himself up out of the tucked roll, brushing glass and debris off of his scuffed armor plating, he pressed on.

Every twist, turn, leap, and roll, the Empire's forces were hot on his heels. On full alert and all hands raised, they were relentless in their search for the VDF soldiers responsible for the death of one of their highest-ranking officers and nearly killing the other in one fell swoop.

His fortune eventually ran out as he began descending a flight of stairs, pulse pounding in his temples from exertion. Thankfully, the suit regulated his temperature to not be swimming in his own sweat. Nevertheless, a pair of Irken Elite were at the landing at the bottom. Six flights of stairs down. They would hear him if he took them all and there was nowhere else to go.

Steeling himself and placing trust in the capabilities of the suit he wore, Rub stepped atop the railing. Precariously perched, he waited patiently for an opportunity.

"Where the Irk are they?!"

"Why you asking me?"

"Nobody up and vanishes like that! They're filthy, inbred, horned freaks! No one moves that fast!"

"Calm down. Got an entire division combing the sector. They won't get aw-"

About that time, Rub's feet connected with the Irken's shoulders. The man's body collapsed under the surprising, sudden weight of a full-grown Vortian male in a cutting-edge suit of augmenting armor. A strangled cry of pain escaped his vox-caster as the bones of his spine and ribs were crushed on impact, smashing face-first into the fractured, tiled floor.

Unfortunate enough to still be breathing, albeit heavily labored and gurgling with internal bleeding filling his spooch, Rub moved to draw his vibroblade and put him out of his misery. That was until his compatriot recovered and fumbled with his plasma rifle.

"Here! He! Here!" He screamed, panicking to shoulder his weapon.

Thinking fast, Rub knelt, gripping the PAK of the Irken he had just crushed by the rim where it touched his back. Squeezing with enough force to dent and fracture the alloys it was composed of, he stood straight, giving it a might wretch. A wail of agony escaped the supine Elite as the PAK was torn from his spine by the two metallic tendrils imbedded into it. One after the other snapped, leaving him paralyzed. At least he could not feel the pain of the damage wrought any longer. Not that it would matter given the extent of his injuries.

The Irken's life-granting controller in hand, Rub spun around to meet the remaining Irken Elite. Using it as a makeshift blunt weapon, inertia in his favor, the Vortian attempted to bury the device deep in the Irken's skull. He connected, immediately rupturing one of his maroon eyes in an explosion of jellied blood. His skull shattered, caving in from the impact, and his body crumpled like a marionette with its strings cut. The only noise that followed was the grisly slap of wet flesh as his split head spilled the contents all over the pile of rubble he landed atop and the pitter-patter of blood dripping off of the now-ruined PAK.

Breathing a sigh of relief having came out on top, Rub cast a glance at his makeshift weapon with a sneer before tossing it down unceremoniously. He held no sympathy for them, let alone a conscience for the brutality he displayed. They deserved worse for what they had brought to Vort.

The fortune of the other two soon wore off as they ran into a group of three Imperial Troopers coming out of the factory where their shuttle was previously. "Over here!"

Ruk drew his revolver's hammer back and fired at one, Static quickly taking down the other two with his plasma carbine. "We need to alter our path. Doc, how's Spectre?"

Osa, back in their shuttle, had seen what transpired with a dropped jaw. The doctor's voice coming over the comms, "Elevated heart rate, suit operating at optimal levels. The man ripped off an Irken's PAK and beat another one to death." He paused, "I have to admit, I've never seen that before. The man lives up to his reputation."

"By the gods, Spectre. You need assistance?" He led Ruk back towards another path to try and throw the Troopers off their track before continuing back towards extraction.

"Negative," Rub answered, vacating the area as rapidly as his feet would carry him. "Maintain the timetable. Do not vait for me and risk being captured or killed."

"Roger that," he responded and stopped on a factory rooftop. "Ruk, place those last bit of explosives right here." The hunter placed down his last plasma grenade, Static himself putting down a bundle of Irken grenades taped together, along with a beacon that was sure to draw the Irkens in. He hid the explosives so they wouldn't be noticed...until it was too late. "You sure you can nail that from across the way? You did just miss."

"If that man had not bent down, ve vould be down two Generals today. Even my bruvka would have missed." The two cloaked and moved several rooftops over as Static activated the beacon. Just as expected, a couple squads of Troopers and a squad of Elites made their way up to the roof...then one Elite bent down to pick up the beacon...and only then noticed the explosives.

"It's a tr-" a crack resonated in the area as Ruk fired his rifle, nailing the combined charges and causing a massive detonation. Stowing this empty casing as well, Ruk reloaded on the move. They should make it there with further effort as part of the factory fell into the street and was sure to cause some delay for any pursuers.

Rub arrived, minutes after, the engines roaring and waiting for their last passenger. Shika grinned as he came aboard. "Welcome back, damn nice work out there." She liked what she saw, but with the possibility of Irken on their trail, praise would have to wait. Closing the dropship's door, she lifted off and took off, heading back towards Vortian lines. At least they got damn good intelligence and one of their Generals to boot. Who knows, Grimm's anger could very well prove to be to their advantage in the coming days as well.

Only after Rub boarded and the shuttle was away did he peel off his mask and goggles before addressing his sibling.

"You missed…" He sneered, unable to mask his contempt. "One job...and you missed."

Ruk looked to his twin, dead in the eyes despite his goggles still being on, "He moved in that split second. You vould have missed him, same as I. Then you vould be kicking yourself instead of blaming me." He knew this was critical, the circumstances played against him. "You know I vanted to hit him. Look back at the footage, see for yourself."

"You grazed him. You pulled your shot. Stop making excuses." Rub confronted, more frustrated at Grimm getting away than his brother.

"I did not pull that shot!"

The Doc pulled up his camera feed and rewound the playback from Ruk's point of view. Looking through the scope, right before the trigger pulled he saw Grimm start to lean down to pick something up. To make sure, he rewound it again and played it in slow motion.

"That man vould be dead! I swear, he moved at the last second! That vas not my fault on marksmanship!"

"Vhatever. Doesn't matter. He escaped." Rub growled, tightening his fist. "By the sound of it, all ve have done is expedited our doom. Whomever vill replace the High General vill likely lockstep vith Grimm to vhatever he vills."

"Maybe we've just exploited a weakness, sir." Static hinted at their intelligence from earlier. "If they keep pace, they leave gaps in their lines, gaps that we can exploit. We already have some now. Grimm also seems that he'll let his rage get the best of him." He was being rather optimistic, but he made some good points. "I think we may have a reprieve if we can push him back far enough and he's forced to wait for help. Plus what we've got in store for them at Devastis? We'll see."