AUTHOR'S NOTES: Whew...this one took a few days to write. I would've had it done at the usual time, but unfortunately I caught some sort of con plague over the weekend (not COVID; I already had my bout with that one), so I felt like crap for the past few days.

Anyhow, this chapter concludes the Battle of Warsaw! We're now getting into the finals stretch of Volume 8, which means this story arc will be finishing just about the time RTX rolls around. The next chapter should be a "cool down" one...which I think I need as much as our heroes and heroines do.

Oh, and if you haven't seen Top Gun Maverick yet...you should.

West of Warsaw, Poland

5 September 2001

1:13 AM Local

Ruby stared out of her canopy at the mushroom cloud that was still dominating the southern horizon. It was gigantic, shot through with the occasional lightning, with an odd blue sheen. The cloud was starting to collapse and dissipate, being carried northeast by the winds. "Ruby Lead to Rubies," she radioed. "Make sure you stay clear of that cloud. It's hot." Weiss and Blake would get the picture. It was radioactively hot rather than temperature; not even flying through it in a fast fighter might save them from getting a lethal dose—assuming the high level of radioactivity didn't simply fry the aircraft itself. Ruby wasn't sure, and she wasn't going to find out.

Ahead, in the darkness, Ruby thought she could see movement—the slight sparks and trails of fighters and missiles. "Ruby Lead to Blizzard. We're coming east, bearing, ah, one-eight-two, speed 500, angels 20."

"Ruby, Blizzard. Split formation. Ruby Three, join Reaper and Crow 13. Ruby Lead, Ruby Two, stand by."

"Ruby Three, roger," Blake replied. "Buster." The F-14 rose upwards and then accelerated, wings fully raked back, afterburners blazing with blue fire. Ruby had to sneak a squint, despite the possibility it would ruin her night vision: it was such a beautiful sight.

"Blizzard, Ruby Lead—where do you want us?"

"Stand by, Ruby," Winter repeated. "The ground situation is very confused."

Powazki Cemetery

1:15 AM Local

Salem's forces did not come forward in a human wave, but a short sprint from where they had taken cover in the rubble, leading with grenades and Molotov cocktails. The latter burst against the dead trees and ruins of the cemetery, sending flames and fragments across Team Metal's forward lines. The Delta operators had good cover, with the result that none received more than superficial wounds, but it kept their heads down for a precious second. It gave Salem's troops a chance.

It wasn't much of one. The two M240s were positioned to sweep the forward line, and their gunners opened fire. The bullets chopped through the charge, cutting people down in their tracks, taking off limbs and heads. A few that were not hit saw those that were and either turned and fled, or dropped where they were, seeking cover from the murderous crossfire. Others, more experienced or simply too terrified to stop, ran even faster, knowing that if they got in among their enemy, the machine guns might stop. They fired wildly on the run, firing from the hip.

The first wave rolled over Team Metal's line, even as the Delta men and women fired short, controlled bursts. A few managed to get past this, carried by a mix of enthusiasm and fear, and headed straight for Otome's command group.

The screams and gunfire from the front broke Yang out of her stunned state, after watching Kingpin Three go down. She dropped down and snatched up the MP5, raising it to eye level, trying to remember her father teaching her how to shoot. It had been instinct beneath the Palace, but now she had a few seconds to think about it, and she felt her heart hammering. Aim low, aim low, aim low, she chanted, trying to calm herself.

Trix made sure JINN was secure before she raised her weapon as well. Oscar was next to her. "Give me a gun!" he yelled. The Faunus patted her holster before firing, picking off one of the enemy who was getting ready to toss a grenade. Oscar, adrenaline wiping out his earlier fatigue, pulled the Beretta free and aimed it. Benedykta dropped to one knee and raised her AK-47.

"Give me a gun!" Emerald shouted, but everyone ignored her. Otome raised her own MP5 and fired. "What are you waiting for? Defend yourselves!" she snapped.

It was like dropping a flag. All of them opened fire. Yang saw that her MP5 was not giving the expected kick upwards and adjusted her aim. Her first burst missed; her second took one attacker high in the chest, throwing them back. Oscar was firing wildly at shadows; Benedykta was firing in short, professional shots. Trix was picking her targets and dispatching them with lethal aim. Emerald dropped behind a headstone and tried to make herself as small a target as possible.

Despite this, four of Salem's people managed to reach the command group. One screamed in Russian as they raised their AK-47, bayonet poised to stab Oscar; Trix simply swung right and killed them in mid-shout. A second shot off their entire magazine at the group before Benedykta shot him; Otome fell backwards, her left arm audibly snapping, her submachinegun flying out of her hands. The third and fourth ran straight at Yang. Yang dropped the third one, their momentum carrying them forward to land almost at her feet. She turned to take down the last one.

Her trigger came back with a click of an empty magazine. She pulled it again, and was rewarded with the same, strangely loud click. The fourth attacker—a tall man—pulled his trigger as well, but he too had an empty weapon, having fired off all his ammunition in the wild charge across the cleared ground of the graveyard. Both fumbled for a fresh magazine as they stood only four paces from each other; no one else noticed in the confusion of the battle. Yang grabbed hers and slammed it home, but as she got ready to cock it, she noticed her opponent was already ready to fire. "Aw, shit," Yang groaned, more frustrated than afraid.

Then the big man's head snapped to one side, and he crumpled to the ground, the unfired AK clattering to the ground. Yang looked around, and saw Emerald, holding Otome's MP5. They stared at each other for a moment. "Did I make the team?" Emerald said. That struck Yang as uproariously funny, and she began laughing, almost hysterically.

The surge faded as the first wave of attackers either died or retreated; the M240s stopped firing, having chewed through their first belt. The firefight ended as soon as it began, dropping back down to isolated shots. Yang finished cocking the MP5; she stopped laughing as she saw the third attacker, the one she had fired off the last of her ammunition into, still alive. It was a young man, who rolled over, grabbing his middle. She stared as the man's hands moved, slick with blood, trying to stop the bleeding, moaning something in Russian. He turned and saw Yang looking at him. "Pajalsta, pajalsta," he pleaded.

"I…I…" Yang stammered, frozen.

The Russian said something else she didn't understand, then reached upwards as Benedykta walked to him. "Dosvidanya," she replied, and shot him in the face.

"Fuck!" Yang had jumped at the sudden shot. "You didn't have to kill him!"

"He was already dead," the Polish girl replied. "Who cares?"

Trix saw Otome was hit and spoke into her headset. "Soap, Wraith. Princess is hit. Need a medic."

"I'm fine!" Otome insisted, sitting up. Her left arm was hanging limply, and bright bone stuck out of one jagged hole. "Okay, I'm not fine! Dammit! Mierda!" Trix began to get up, but Otome waved her down. "Stay where you are and keep an eye on the perimeter. C'mere, Navy—you, Ensign Pine." Oscar put down his borrowed pistol—it was empty—and scrambled over. "Straighten out my arm. Slowly." Oscar grabbed Otome's hand and, as gently as he could, pulled it straight. She gritted her teeth in agony as the severed halves of her humerus grated together. "Hold that…get a bandage—" Otome looked up in surprise as Emerald pulled open a dressing and stretched it tight over the wound. "How the hell did you get free?" The zip ties lay on the ground.

The former thief shrugged. "Trade secret." Between the three of them, they got Otome bandaged and her arm set when Soap came jogging up the small rise. "You all right?" he asked.

"Do I look all right, you fucking Jock?" Otome snapped back.

"Walk it off." Soap motioned to the south. "We did all right. Just got one wounded—Blaze. Took a hit in the chest. Vest took the worst of it, but she's got a couple of broken ribs. No idea on enemy body count."

"We're not done, that's for sure." Otome struggled to her feet. "They'll be back. Pull back the southern line to a secondary line about halfway here. If Salem tries the southern approach again, they'll hit an empty line."

Her headset crackled. "Princess, Shogun. Hostiles moving around our right."

"Figured as much." Otome used her good arm to adjust her mike. "Huma, how's the rear?"

"Nothing here, boss."

"Very well. Leave your machine gun team to cover that and bring half your people to cover our…our right." Otome shook her head and blinked. "Fuck. Getting dizzy." She sat back down. "Soap, if I pass out, take command."

"Right."

"Princess, Soap, this is Chaser. Enemy is reforming to our front."

Trix scanned the forward area. "They're getting ready to hit us again." She closed her eyes and listened. "Both sides, this time."

Soap saw Huma's force coming up to reinforce and motioned them to the right flank. He grinned. "Feel like Chard at Rorke's Drift."

"Better than Davy Crockett at the Alamo," Yang replied. Oscar looked at her strangely. "What, Oscar? I flunked English, not history."

Soap grabbed her arm. "Better get on the horn, Suds. We're going to need the air support."

"You got it." She grabbed the handset from her radio pack. "We'd better make this fast, because Kingpin Four doesn't have all morning when it comes to fuel—" She was cut off as suddenly there was an explosion, just short of their eastern perimeter. "What the hell—"

Soap listened for a moment. "Mortars. This is getting interesting."

East of Warsaw

1:20 AM Local

"Oh my God," Blake whispered as she reached the furball east of the city. It was confusion itself, with Ren, Harriet, Pyrrha and Qrow in the middle of it. The Beowolves and Beringals were actually trying to untangle themselves, trying to get to their programmed task of shooting down Team Metal's air support, but could not do so without violating their self-preservation protocols, and so the fight was on.

"Reaper Lead, Blake. I'm here." Blake instantly regretted saying something without just simply engaging; she sounded stupid.

"Blake, Reaper. Take your pick." She heard Pyrrha straining against the G-forces.

Sometimes I'm kinda dumb, Blake berated herself, came out of afterburner, and dived on a Beowulf. It never saw her coming, and she dispatched it with an AMRAAM. She caught movement in the corner of one eye. "Ren, Blake, check six."

Ren didn't reply, but threw the J-10 into a series of hard turns. The Beringal stayed with him, cannon tracer trying to envelop the fighter. "He's on me," Ren said tightly.

"Ren, Blake—I'm on him." Blake rolled in, the Tomcat's wings cycling back for speed. "Drag him!" The J-10 rolled to the right, but shed some speed, and Blake's gunsight pipper crept onto the Beringal's twin engines. Too close for missiles. A slight thumb movement switched to her gun.

"Blake, Crow, two Beowolves, five o'clock high!"

Blake ignored the call for a second, focused on the Beringal, then pulled the trigger. The F-14's M61 roared, shredding the tail of the GRIMM. Fuel exploded a moment later, and the drone became a comet as it rose upwards, then started coming apart. Blake broke left as she sensed rather than saw the Beowolves getting ready to fire. She dropped flares in her wake even as the missile warning alarm went off, then just as quickly shut off; the GRIMM missiles chased the flares instead. She stole a glance behind: the two Beowolves were still after her. She dived, but they stayed with her.

Ren had gone into an almost lazy circle, thinking ahead, and got what he anticipated. As the Tomcat headed for the ground, he rolled in behind the Beowolves, closed, and fired his own cannon. The rearmost drone shuddered under the impact of the heavy rounds, a wing tore free, and it spiraled away. Ren gave a minute shift of the stick and settled in behind the other one. "Blake, Ren. Go vertical. I've got your bandit." Blake did not reply, but the F-14 suddenly snapped into a hard climb. The Beowolf began to follow, but Blake had been a half-second faster than its computer brain, and that was all Ren needed. A caress of a trigger, a Sidewinder flew off its rail, and the Beowolf exploded.

"Ren, break right!"

Ren didn't question that; no fighter pilot would. Even as he snapped over into the break, he felt something hit his J-10. As he twisted away from this latest threat, he saw a Beringal sweep under his nose, then climb after Blake.

The Ruins of Warsaw

1:25 AM Local

"Ruby, Blizzard, I have some trade for you." Winter continued to orbit over the city, staying out of range of antiaircraft fire. Every instinct she had screamed for her to join the dogfight, but there had to be an overall commander for this, someone who could keep everything straight. Winter knew she had to think in four dimensions—the normal three, plus time. She had to consider asking Top Hat for more reinforcements in air to air. She had to consider Kingpin Four's fuel status. She had to watch the situation on the ground, and shift assets to defend the men and women of Team Metal. "Suds reports mortars, probably a quarter of a kilometer east of their position, and enemy movement to the south. Ruby Lead, Ruby Two, make your run east to west with rockets south of the perimeter. Do you have strobes in sight?"

"Negative, Blizzard," Ruby replied.

"Blizzard, Ruby Two." Winter recognized Weiss' voice. "Strobes in sight." She had activated the IR sensor in the nose of the Typhoon.

"Roger, Ruby Two. Ruby Lead, follow Two in your run. Ace Three, follow them through their run and stand by to engage any ground fire." Winter felt physical pain lance through her; she was sending her own sister into a battle that had already claimed a helicopter and its crew. Angered—at Salem and herself—Winter suddenly whipped her Typhoon into a dive. "Ace Three, belay that last. Follow me. Rubies, Blizzard joining you on your right side."

"Ruby, Suds!" Yang broke into the conversation. "Bad guys are to the south of the burning trees!"

"Ruby Two; I'm in, east to west." Weiss brought her Typhoon into her own dive, though hers was shallow. She switched her HUD from air to air to air to ground, and set up for a rocket pass—which she had never done before. How hard can it be? she thought, with a wry smile. She noticed Winter coming out of her split-S behind and to her left, the gray Typhoon bright in the night, and felt reassured by her sister being there. Then she blinked in surprise as Winter suddenly switched on her navigation lights.

Weiss settled the pipper on the ground ahead of her, checked her altimeter, and opened fire. The rockets lit up the night even more than Winter was, leaving afterblast behind the pods. The rounds struck the ground and exploded in gouts of flame and earth, and then she was past. As she climbed away, leaving flares and jinking Myrtenaster from side to side, she looked behind, just in time to see Ruby make her run, the F-16 illuminated by her rocket fire.

And then tracers suddenly came for Winter. Weiss watched in horror as the green pinpoints of flame shot past the Typhoon, but Winter was ready for it. The fighter twisted and rolled through the cone of fire as she climbed. "Ace Three! ZPU, two o'clock low!"

"Ace Three, tally ZPU!" Elm came in unseen, the gunners concentrating on Winter, distracted by her and the rocket-firing Typhoon and F-16. The F-35 made a perfect pass and Elm delivered her Mark 82s in an almost perfect pattern. As the F-35 roared over Team Metal's position, the ZPU vanished in a huge explosion that turned night to day for a moment as the ammunition cooked off under the bomb hits.

"Ace Three, Suds! Shack, shack!" Yang cheered. She almost jumped to her feet, but remembered where she was. "Yeah! Fuck you, Salem! That's for Kingpin Three!"

"Suds, Chaser. Tell your airheads nice work. They were getting ready to make another charge, but those rockets stopped 'em cold."

"Chaser, will do!" Yang beat on the ground in happiness. "Rubies, Suds! Nice run, nice run!"

Soap clapped Yang on the shoulder. "Solid work, Air Force." He heard Otome calling for him and walked over to her, purposely ignoring the mortar round that landed on the cleared ground harmlessly behind him. The more inexperienced members of the team were ducking at every impact, but the mortar crew's aim was poor, clearly unsettled by the bomb run, afraid they were giving away their position every time they fired—even if they were unseen. "Boss?"

Otome's face was pale and waxy, and Trix was tightening a tourniquet around her upper arm. "Think a artery got nicked," she said shakily. "Take command." Soap nodded. She smiled. "Thanks. I'm going to pass out, if that's okay." Her eyes rolled back and her head dropped to the ground.

"Pine?" Oscar looked up. "Watch her. Trix, you pull security. You—Emerald?" The former thief gave him a nod. "You stay here as well." He tapped the Polish girl on the shoulder. "Benedykta, on the line. Move." She hesitated, looked at Yang, then nodded and dashed off to the east. Soap keyed his mike. "All Metal elements, this is Soap. Princess is out. Hold the line."

He had no sooner said the words when the trumpets sounded again.

East of Warsaw

1:30 AM Local

Blake wondered if this particular Beringal had been specifically programmed to kill her. She had tried every trick she knew and invented a few on the spot, and the GRIMM still held fast on her tail. She still could deploy Gambol Shroud's decoys, but that would mean moving her hands from the stick or the throttle, and if she did that, she would be dead. The Beringal had exhausted its missiles, but was more than happy—if GRIMM could be happy—to use its cannon to end her life.

"Blake here. I, um, need help." Her voice was calm, but Blake knew screaming in terror was conduct unbecoming a Marine.

"Blake, Pyrrha. Come right. If you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours."

Blake nodded—although Pyrrha could not see her, of course—and racked the F-14 into a hard right break. A quick check between the twin tails of her Tomcat showed that the Beringal stayed with her, then she made a quick check of the radar. It couldn't pick out Pyrrha, but it did show two GRIMM now coming straight at her. "Pyrrha, Blake, do you have two bandits at your six?"

"Roger. Lock on AMRAAMs and shoot when I say to."

Wait, Blake thought with alarm as she switched to her two remaining AMRAAMs, if she's got two GRIMM behind her, and I'm heading towards those, that means I'm head-to-head with Pyrrha! Eyes wide, Blake looked forward, but the F-22 was invisible in the darkness. "Oh shit," she breathed.

"Stand by, Blake…" An eternal second ticked by. "Shoot, shoot!"

Blake, wondering if she was about to end her days in a spectacular midair collision, pulled the trigger twice. "Blake, Fox Three!"

"Blake, climb NOW!" Blake didn't question it, hauling the stick back into her lap and shoving the throttle to the stops. She got a brief flash of Pyrrha's F-22 as it shot past less than fifty feet below her, gun flashing. She quickly rolled out and fought against the G-force as she craned her head to look behind her. The Beringal that had been behind her was going down on fire, while the F-22 was still going, wobbling as it flew through the jetwash of both the F-14 and the Beringal. She returned her attention forward to see both GRIMM that had been pursuing Pyrrha explode. "Whew," Blake breathed, her hands shaking. "Blake, splash two."

"Pyrrha, splash one." The Greek girl sounded just as breathless. "Let's not do that again."

East of Warsaw

1:35 AM Local

"Ace Lead, Blizzard. Status." Winter resumed her orbit, doing a quick check of her aircraft, as best she could do from the cockpit, and held up a gloved hand. It was steady. She smiled, remembering Qrow's advice to do a gut check after doing something either brave, stupid, or both.

"Ace Lead. Have damage. No longer tactical," Vine responded.

"Roger. Can you RTB?"

"Affirmative."

"Ace Three, join on Ace Lead—"

"Blizzard, Ace Lead, negative. Can RTB on my own." Vine paused. "You need Ace Three."

Winter hesitated as well. Leaving anyone out on their own was anathema to fighter pilot tactics. Stragglers were GRIMM bait. She considered it. Vine knew his aircraft and himself, the GRIMM were still east of the Vistula in the dogfight, and the F-35 was stealthy. "Ace Lead, understood. Ace Two, stand by for next run."

Vine heard the radio call and turned to the west. The F-35 responded sluggishly, and he felt like his oxygen mix was off. Despite Marrow's check, something was wrong with the aircraft—and from the pain in his back, something was wrong with him. He felt shaky and oddly unsettled, which for Vine Zeki was very rare. Vine climbed a bit and began to work out a course to Wroclaw when suddenly he felt like he was going to vomit—which had also never happened before. He took off his mask just in time, but didn't throw up; instead, he doubled over from a coughing fit. Vine felt warm liquid across his glove and switched on his cockpit light.

The glove was covered in dark blood. More of it was splattered across his flight suit and pooled in his oxygen mask. He stared at the blood. "Well," he whispered, feeling faint, "that's not good."

Powazki Cemetery

1:15 AM Local

Soap saw that Salem was changing her tactics again: though the airstrike had prevented an attack from both sides, which might have overrun Team Metal through sheer numbers, the one on the right flank was preceded by more grenades, Molotovs, the mortars, and now RPGs. He cursed as one sailed out from behind a ruin and hit just short of the M240 position. He ran in that direction, grabbing Benedykta as he did so. As they neared the position, Soap saw that one of the crew was wounded, the other stunned—and the machine gun's barrel was twisted upwards. "Shit," he cursed, because now Salem's force did not have to deal with that heavy firepower—and there were four of them coming straight at the position, ahead of the main force, which was trying to suppress the Delta line. If the corner fell, then Salem could roll up the line.

To Soap's surprise, the Polish girl dashed forward, raising her AK-47 and killing the first attacker, then dropped behind a headstone to avoid return fire, though the sudden charge had surprised the enemy. She craned her head upwards, ducked down as bullets chipped off the granite headstone, and yelled at Soap, "Grenade! Grenade!" pointing behind the headstone. He wasn't exactly sure what she meant, but decided to go with his first instinct. Soap pulled a grenade from his web gear, lofted it over Benedykta and the headstone, and was rewarded with both a scream and a RPG triggered straight upwards. She then rolled over the stone and fired off the rest of her magazine, stripped two more from the dead, and dashed back to Soap.

"Damn," Soap said.

"It funny!" Benedykta grinned. She pointed to the name on the headstone.

"Chopin," the SAS man said. "Well, I'll be damned."

"You may be," she replied, and pointed. Salem's troops were charging forward.

"Suds, Kingpin Four. Bingo plus ten." The helicopter was running low on fuel.

"Wait one, Kingpin! Little busy!" Yang, from her position, could see the attack developing. "Marrow, you still got nape?" In her haste, Yang completely forgot Marrow's callsign.

"Suds, Marrow, roger!"

"I need you to hit everything to the west of our line! Do you have strobes?"

"Strobes in sight. How close do you want it?"

"As close as you can! Expedite, expedite!" Yang was not an experienced ground fighter, so she had no idea of how big or how small the attacking force was, but it looked bigger than the one that had come close to killing her ten minutes before. Once more, the attackers were firing from the hip, trusting in sheer firepower to keep the Delta operators' heads down—and this time, there was no machine gun to slow down the charge. Someone was blowing a bugle for all they were worth.

"Ace Two is in, south to north! Danger close!"

Yang spoke into her headset, hoping that someone could hear through all the cacophony. "Team Metal, get real small! Danger close, danger close!"

The F-35 flashed over, silver bombs coming off the wing hardpoints. They tumbled as they did so, hit the ground, and exploded. Liquid fire instantly spread forward in a tidal wave of magma, setting fire to everything it touched, lighting up the cemetery like it was noon. Yang winced and ducked as a wave of heat went over her, enough that she felt sunburned. She saw some of Huma's team looking back at her, as if to say what are you trying to do, Air Force—kill us?

The napalm had been dangerously close. Had Marrow deviated to the east by a twitch of the stick, it would have hit the Delta operators with the same horrible lethality as it did Salem's troops. As the fire spread, Yang heard the screams and remembered Darvaza, when Nora had hit the cannibals with napalm. Next came the smell of roasted human and Faunus flesh. A few of Salem's troops came out of the flames, on fire themselves, screaming as they still ran forward; they were dispatched by Team Metal. "My God," Emerald breathed.

"Yeah," Yang said, but knew this was no time for mercy. "Ruby, Weiss, I need strafing runs, west of the burn!" The flames now gave good visibility.

"Suds, Ruby, I have a mortar position a klick west—making a bomb run. Weiss, follow through with strafe. Blizzard—"

"Blizzard in trail." Winter swung in behind her sister.

Yang never saw Ruby's F-16 until it came over and released its bombs. The red-trimmed fighter was there and gone, but the bombs hit and exploded skyward; Yang saw more soil and rubble jump upwards, and then suddenly a secondary explosion, sending flame up with it. "Ruby, Suds, shack! Nice hit!"

Then it was Weiss and Winter's turn. The sisters' Typhoons came in at almost treetop level, their cannon kicking up dirt as they struck whatever was left behind the burning napalm. There were more screams, and then the two Typhoons were climbing away, leaving more carnage in their wake. Yang looked south, but there was no tracer following them. Elm got one of the ZPUs…but where's the other one? Maybe they hauled ass? Can't blame 'em, anyway. "Ace Three, Suds, think you could make another pass? Need you to come in east to west."

"Roger that, Suds. Rolling in."

"Watch for that other Zip Gun. I think he's out there somewhere."

Elm clicked the mike button twice in acknowledgement, and the F-35 flew in. She strafed as well, to the south of the cemetery; Yang thought she saw shadows move in that area. A single muzzle flash fired as Elm went past, but she heard the soft shot of one of Wraith's snipers, and there was no more ground fire. Except for the screams and moans of the wounded and dying, it was suddenly quiet again.

Soap came running back in. "Nice work on the air, Suds, but next time, not so bloody close."

Yang grinned despite herself. "Sorry about that. Can we go home now? Didn't see any ground fire."

"What, you're tired already?" Soap shrugged, as if he didn't care if they left Warsaw or stayed there another day or two. It was entirely an act of nonchalance, but Yang appreciated it. "Sure, go ahead."

"Kingpin, Suds. C'mon in. LZ clear."

"Suds, Kingpin, on the way."

"Blizzard to all elements," Winter radioed. "Watch for ground fire. Break. Crow, status."

"Blizzard, Crow." Yang thought her uncle sounded tired. "Skies clean."

Yang wiped her brow. This ground fighting was for Army pukes. She wanted to get back in her F-23 as soon as humanly possible. And a shower.

This MH-53 came in fast as well, once more sending rotorwash across them, but flared just in time, turned in place, and set down. Yang realized she didn't really know how the exfiltration was going to proceed, but then realized she didn't have to—the Delta team already did. They fell back in sections, making sure no one was left behind, or that none were turning their backs on the enemy. The wounded went first, with the still-unconscious Otome the only one that was on a stretcher; Oscar hobbled his way to the helicopter after squeezing Yang's shoulder. Soap ordered Trix to follow; the rabbit Faunus gathered up JINN and climbed aboard the helicopter. Once they were onboard and secure, the others fell back as well. There was a few scattered AK shots from the west, where a few of Salem's troops had worked their way around the still burning Kingpin Three, but Weiss delivered a string of bombs down that street, silencing even that small opposition.

Soap smiled at Benedykta. "You want to go to America?" She laughed and nodded, slinging her AK-47 over one shoulder and running for the helicopter. "You too, Sustrai." Emerald handed the MP5 to Yang, then ran after the Polish girl. Wraith's snipers came in, materializing like their leader's namesake. "Okay, Air Force, your turn."

Yang felt an odd impulse to demand she go last, but then her better sense prevailed, and she hightailed it for the MH-53. It was getting crowded, but she climbed aboard and sat on the floor. Finally, Wraith's snipers dropped back, and it was Soap who was the last aboard. He sat down, feet hanging off the ramp next to the door gunner; Yang grabbed a stanchion and looked out. "Let's move!" he yelled.

"Kingpin, Suds!" Yang yelled over the engines. "All aboard! Raise ship!" She didn't know the right nomenclature for taking off in a helicopter. She'd never really liked them; someone eventually was going to realize they actually couldn't fly.

"Roger that, Suds, we're out." The MH-53 rose upwards, the landing gear leaving the ground, and turned in place to head out to the north.

And that was when Yang saw the second ZPU.

The second ZPU gunner had done some thinking, and realized correctly that if they opened fire with aircraft making strafing and bomb runs, they would die like their comrades. So they had stealthily drove forward under the noise of the battle, hiding under the trees, keeping their guns silent. Now, as Kingpin Four rose into the sky, the BTR-152 drove out of the trees, the twin guns of the ZPU training in their direction. Yang saw the ramp gunner spooling up his Minigun even as she grabbed the headset to call in a strike, and knew both of them were too slow.

"Kingpin Three, Ace Lead, you're clear."

Huh? Vine—Yang saw the F-35 roar over the cemetery, climb slightly, then dive into the ZPU. Gun, armored personnel carrier, and aircraft disappeared into a huge explosion that shook the MH-53 and nearly sent it crashing into the copse of dead woods to the north. Yang grabbed the stanchion with both hands and got a boot on Soap's shoulder, even as he grabbed the Minigun's support post to keep from being thrown out.

"Oh, Jesus," Yang said, as the explosion's flames rolled upwards. "What…why did he…"

"Ace Lead!" Marrow's voice was frantic. "Ace Lead, come in! Come in!"

"Ace Two from Ace Four, where's Ace Lead?" Harriet's voice was higher than usual.

"Ace Three to Two, was that Lead—"

"Clear the channel." Winter's voice sliced across the net with the coldness of her name. "Ace Lead is down. No chute. All elements, RTB. Haisla, Blizzard. Your signal is Eclipse, I say again, Eclipse."