Chapter 11 - Rising from Ashes

Drones were complex creatures, in spite of their name. Considered the baseline soldier of the Locust forces, these one-word wonders showed surprising tactical knowledge when grouped together. Often led by Grenadiers and the elusive Theron Guard, drones were flexible warriors open to all forms of conflict. And sometimes, that meant standing guard.

One such drone found himself clutching a Hammerburst assault rifle and standing on the edge of railroad tracks. The ground walkers had abandoned their cities in an exodus that sparked interest from the Locust commanders. A few cornered Gears and tortured civilians had revealed why: the humans were planning to eradicate everything on the planet with their accursed orbital defense platforms. The Queen herself had beckoned large numbers of her children back below ground, but there were still fights to be had, battles to be won, and salvage to be scavenged.

The chilly night air did nothing to bother the drone. Locust were used to all different climates within their subterranean warrens, and the air above ground was almost comfortable in comparison. The quiet night did nothing to distract the drone from his post. As such, he should see any approaching threats as his brethren continued to hunt down pockets of resistance.

But there are only so many things you can see coming, no matter how vigilant your watch. The darkness of night was no longer relieved by human light sources. A distant crack echoed through the night. Before the drone could react, however, a high caliber round found its way through his eye socket. The velocity and mass of the round caused the drone's head to explode completely, showering the ground around him with bits of gore and gray matter as his twitching corpse collapsed to the ground.

Roughly two hundred yards away, Pad grinned at the kill and reloaded his Longshot. He still had the Markza rifle that Naruto had given him, but this kind of delicate work required the larger and more powerful Longshot. Shot taken, Pad returned the Longshot to his back and climbed down from the rocky rubble he had posted up on. At the base of the debris he had set up on for nearly an hour, Cole and Sam looked up at Pad expectantly. They had heard him shoot, and were eager to move. Baird was busy watching their backs, lest some of the headless drone's friends show up for payback.

"One hour, one kill. Amazing." Just because he was on the lookout, didn't mean Baird couldn't be a smart ass.

"Once you get past two hundred meters, quality defines success lad." Pad replied, not really caring for another spat with Baird. The blonde had been insufferable on their ride to the edge of Char, to the point that Sam had forced him to shut up. Even Cole had been a little irritated.

"Enough boys. The grubs aren't going to tolerate bickering." Sam said with a smirk. Baird and Pad shared a few more heated glares, and then Lima Squad moved deeper into the fringe of the city. The briefing advised fifteen miles from the city center, and the bunker Baird and Pad had pointed out was seventeen miles out. As such, they were close to their target. But following a map that had been charted fifteen years prior, and of an area that had been destroyed a year ago, had proven to be difficult even for Sam and Pad to find. The Locust hadn't just focused on population centers. Railroads, major highways, even water towers had been felled, drastically changing the area that Lima was now forced to navigate.

The four picked their way across the ruined wasteland quietly, or as quiet as heavy armor and metal greaves would allow. Their armor and packs had been packed to reduce noise, but you still had to act quiet to be quiet. Pad and Sam had it down to science, with Pad's experience and Sam's training with her father. Cole and Baird struggled slightly with the whole stealth approach, but the four made it to an abandoned train yard marked on the map without any Locust interruptions. According to the map their emergency bunker was located beneath the rail yard for ease of access. The cargo doors had been left open since Emergence Day, and a simple pad lock was all that kept the team from the bunker. Once the lock was handled, the heavy metal door swung inward to reveal a dark, dusty refuge unused in humanity's greatest time of need. Sam produced a flashlight from inside her jacket, and the others covered her.

The door opened out into an entry chamber, supported by six strong columns and a system of crossed steel beams similar to Baird's 'Heaven's Gates' system. Where Baird's overlaid beams was a cheap way to hinder emergence holes, the structures they say above them was designed to prevent the ceiling collapsing on anyone inside. As they passed through the dusty antechamber, Sam pushed a couple of rusted double doors open with a loud squeal of rusty hinges, causing the others to wince. Baird snorted derisively, and Sam shot him a look.

The main staging area was designed to allow for sleeping bags and as many people as possible, so there was no furnishings in the room comprised of concrete and steel. It was simply a room five hundred square feet in size, and there was more than enough room for them to camp out. They still had sixteen hours before the Hammer dropped on Sera.

"Alright, let's see if we can move the Packhorse into the warehouse nearby. Once we've done that, cover it with a tarp to hide it from any Locust." Sam said ordered, her gaze on Cole and Baird. The two gave nods of affirmation and stepped back out to move the Packhorse. She then looked at Pad.

"I need you to find a good vantage point for our recon and set up recording equipment. This is a standard observation op, but we need records just in case things go sideways." Pad grinned and went with the other two to grab their equipment, leaving Sam alone in the spacious shelter. The dank, musty smell did nothing to dissuade Sam's opinion of the place: one way in, and one way out. It was a decent holdout spot, but there was no back door to run out once things became messy. And they had less than fifteen hours before the Hammer fired.

Sam reached into her jacket – a pocket, not a seal – and retrieved a scroll of paper similar to what Naruto had used for their sparring gear. Almost reverently, the Kashkuri woman rolled the paper out until it was flat, smoothing the edges until they stayed put. On the tough yellowed paper, a series of diagrams, circles, and triangles dictated a somewhat complicated sealing formula, the most advanced one Naruto had taught her before she had been taken. It allowed for her to store quite a lot of gear and ammunition, though there was a limit to what she could keep.

Sam channeled a modicum of chakra into the scroll as she had been taught, and stepped back as the design glowed with white light. In a great puff of smoke, four sleeping bags, four padded mats, and a box of ammunition appeared in the center of the room. Within the ammo box were several MREs and some dry logs for a fire. They wouldn't light the fire since ventilation was poor in these old bunkers, but the rest of the supplies would be handy. Sam pulled her scroll out from underneath a sleeping mat and returned it to her jacket.

Through the open door, she could hear the rumble of the Packhorse's engine as her teammates moved the vehicle into a less conspicuous hiding place. She could faintly hear Baird and Pad bickering, though the content of their squabble was lost to her. Sam rolled her eyes and put the mats all behind the support columns, so that if they were intruded upon while they slept cover would be immediately available. Once they were arranged, Sam went back through the door to assist her testosterone fueled squad members in moving things about.

When she reached the top of the steps leading back into the rail yard's depot, she found Baird moving several more boxes of ammo and a few tripods for the recording equipment. The blonde was grumbling to himself, and threw out a smaller box of Pad's rifle rounds. When he didn't hear the satisfying clatter of bullets going everywhere, he turned to see Sam holding the box with a smirk on her face.

"Problems with our new teammate, Baird?" Sam asked half jokingly. She had noticed Baird's increased needling, and it went just a bit beyond welcoming a newcomer to the ranks. Even when they had worked briefly with Anthony Carmine, a Gear not long out of basic, Baird's scathing remarks hadn't been as potent as his words against Pad. Whatever Private Salton had done (or not done), it had clearly irked her blonde companion.

"Oh no, we're great friends. Sharing sniper stories, talking about how good sewer rat tastes. So many common interests." Baird snarled, grabbing another box of ammunition. "Do you remember when I was combing the records, trying to find those agents that amber alerted you?" He asked seriously.

"Yeah. You said that they were all wiped from the system. Why?" Sam was curious. Did Pad have something to do with Dawnbringer?

"Well, our illustrious Corporal Salton had been reassigned three times in one week, on orders of Chairman Dalyell." Baird intoned the last part slowly, and Sam frowned.

"You kept the records I asked you to look up? That was almost two years ago, Baird." Sam said incredulously.

"Screen capture is a wonderful thing, and information is useful. I figured that I'd hold onto it for safe keeping, and what do you know? Handy again." Baird said as he stretched his arms in an exaggerated fashion. "I'm amazing."

"Whatever. So, have you asked him about it, or do you think he's going to just up and confess if you press enough buttons?" Sam teased, though internally Baird's concerns were valid. It would explain Pad's awkwardness when they had met, though exactly how much Pad had to do with her father's disappearance remained to be seen.

"Are you going to do something about it?" Baird crossed his arms defensively, expecting to disapprove her answer. When Baird got stubborn, some considered him insufferable. Sam just found it endearing.

"I'll corner him after we get back. Remember, we're here to watch a super weapon deploy on our own city. That's hardly a time for any dark secrets to come to life." Sam allowed, and Baird immediately sneered. "Hey, I'm not looking for approval. But we have to complete our mission. Everything else can be handled later." Baird rolled his eyes, but dropped his arms into a more neutral position. She could tell he didn't accept it, but he'd always followed her word more or less. She almost set him up for another joke, but Cole interrupted her scheming from above. A muted rap on the aluminum roof turned the two's attention upward, where Cole was peering down at them from a roof access.

"You ladies wanna come up and see the view? Pad's almost done setting up." He called down, and lowered the inside access ladder. Apparently, he and Pad had scaled the outside ladder and raised it, so that the only way to the roof was through their semi-secure camp. Sam and Baird shared a look, and the blonde man shrugged.

"Ladies first," he said as he gestured toward the ladder. Sam shook her head with a smile.

"And give you a chance to stare at my arse? You're going first, Private Baird." She swatted him on the arm for good measure.

"Pfft. You're clearly getting the better show." Without further complaint, Baird started climbing the ladder, Sam close behind. And though she'd never admit it to him, his ass wasn't that bad to look at.

When the two reached the roof, Sam immediately appreciated Pad's experience in these matters. The top of the roof had been barren, but a few boxes and a rain tarp allowed for covered view of the city. From far away, it looked as if a tarp had simply blown over the roof. Pad had set up the camera and microphone in the burned out frames of some rail cars, the struts and warped crossbeams providing excellent camouflage for the devices as well as giving them cover from the inevitable blast.

Pad himself was underneath the tarp, peering out into the city with a pair of field glasses. The Islander's bright ginger hair and pale skin did nothing to hamper his hiding spot. Regardless of his affiliation with her father's kidnappers, Sam had to give Pad credit for his field craft.

"Everything clear, Pad?" Sam asked quietly. Within the depot, their words were captured by the walls and corners of the building. Out in the open, sound carried much farther in open air. Pad slid out from his hide, and Sam noticed a Longshot rifle hidden next to him as well. Clearly the man was ready for anything.

"There are a few patrols, and I noticed some Wretches digging through a rubbish heap down near the road. As far as being discovered, we should be good for a few hours." The sniper replied. Cole slid down next to the hide and peered out into the city, squinting to focus on the tiny glasses that Pad had set up.

"Best seats in the house. I gotta say, Pad, you know how to get a guy ready for a game." Cole said with a grin. Pad accepted the praise with a wave of his hand.

"Setting up is easy, lad. It's staying quiet that will keep the buggers off of us. Hope you are ready for a long wait, because twelve hours in enemy territory can be stressful even in the best conditions." The South Islander pointed to a collection of dark clouds looming in the bright moonlight. Rain was coming, and with it came an uncomfortable question.

"So, who wants first watch?"

The rain wasn't the heaviest Baird had ever weathered, but he wasn't exactly comfortable either. He had his powered goggles lowered over his eyes, both for their slight night vision boost and to keep the water out of his eyes. The constant monotonous patter of rain on an aluminum roof was relaxing to some people, but Baird just saw it as one more noise to bug him. And he was already...unsettled.

He may have been overprotective of Sam from time to time, but Pad's presence on the team irked him beyond the sniper's possible connection to Dawnbringer. The likelihood of Pad still being associated with that group was slim, since he was a trusted member of Hoffman's menagerie of Pendulum War survivors. However, the question that bugged him was whether or not the new Chairman would follow the old in the hunt for further research.

Because of Hoffman's connections and Sam's tenacity, there was no way Naruto was locked up near the plateau. It was likely that the research facility Naruto was incarcerated in had either been overrun, or was so out of the way it was simply abandoned. From what Sam had said about her father, it was highly unlikely that he would tolerate being stuck somewhere while subterranean monsters attacked the people he cared about. The more likely story was that he was either locked away somewhere, or dead.

And now, a lot of people either involved in finding Naruto or aware of his powers were on a mission to literally watch a weapon blow something up. If Prescott wanted them dead, either to cover up Dawnbringer or make sure that no revenge would come from Sam if Naruto was dead, a few coordinates to the left and they'd be the crispiest Gears in the COG. The prospect did little to reinforce Baird's faith in his government.

Cole and Sam had their own reservations about the mission, namely the 'I really hope the giant lasers of death don't cook us' variety, but no one could refute that this kind of intelligence was necessary. Baird just didn't like being this close to the fire.

Although a fire wouldn't be bad right now. He inwardly griped. Freezing rain had managed to worm its way into his armor, coating his undershirt and chilling him to the bone. If he had been the type to let his problems distract him, he'd never have noticed movement among the train cars.

Baird would have initially written off the movement as rain, had it not been side to side in contrast to the falling streaks of water. The north side, near where they had come in, had several empty boxcars open to the elements. And the gray pebbly grub flesh stuck out in the otherwise black interiors. Now that he focused on it, Baird noticed two more Locust creeping in. Drones and a Grenadier would make things interesting. Their hideout was just that: a hideout. The bunker was somewhat defensible, but one grenade through the door would be their end. Right now, Baird had the element of surprise. Depending on how he handled this, they'd have the attack repelled quickly and somewhat quietly.

"Show time." He said quietly. Moving as quietly as he could, Baird slid down the ladder into the depot proper. They had locked the doors as best they could, but a few were damaged beyond defense. Thankfully, the ladder landed rather closely to the bunker where the rest of Lima was sleeping. Once he got through the first door, Baird abandoned the creeping in favor of a quick response. He hustled over to Sam's bedroll and shook her insistently. The Kashkuri woman's eyes snapped open, but she didn't say a word.

"We've got company." Baird said simply. Sam's eyes narrowed and she nodded. As Baird woke Cole and Pad, Sam grabbed her Lancer and moved toward the door, sealing a few magazines of ammo into her shoulder seal. She left her jacket on her bedroll, leaving her arms bare to the chill of the night. She had slept in her armor, a skill Gears found invaluable around an enemy that can come up from underground. When Sam came to the interior door, she could already hear shuffling boots and muffled growls. The Locust had made it inside.

Baird approached quietly behind, and Pad turned the corner toting his captured Markza. Sam knelt at the door, keeping an eye on the concrete flight of stairs that led down to their refuge.

"I only saw three, but you know that there's probably more." Baird whispered. Sam nodded in agreement.

"Just because these aren't the only ones, doesn't mean the rest have our location." She said quietly. Sam slung her Lancer and pulled a seven inch combat knife.

"I don't know, Sam. Knives have been hit and miss with these guys. They have tough hide." Baird warned. Sam shrugged.

"And I have super strength. Just try to take them down quietly, without alerting the rest." Pad nodded at her words, but Baird still looked uneasy. Sam patted his cheek.

"If it makes you feel any better, you can watch my arse." She said cheekily, and rolled out of the door before he could reply. Baird clenched his fists in frustration, then followed her out. After all, she did have a nice ass.

Pad filed out behind him, and Cole stayed behind with his Lancer at the ready. The ex-thrashball player just didn't do quiet.

Sam climbed the stairs silently, her footsteps made quieter by channeling chakra to the bottoms of her feet. She held her knife in a reverse grip, ready to dig and stab instead of slashing. Baird followed behind, those his steps were slower and more measured. Sam scanned the depot for any sign of their unwanted guests, and nearly groaned when she found them. There were four Drones and a Grenadier clustered around their Packhorse. The Drones dug through it, pulling out tools and supplies like kids opening presents. The Grenadier, obviously the leader, kept a sharp eye out for the Packhorse's owners. Namely, Sam and Baird. Baird joined her in staring at the grubby thieves, followed shortly by Pad.

"Those shipping boxes over by the rails would provide cover. Want me to give it a go?" Pad asked, hefting a fire axe. It had more weight behind it than a combat knife, which would give him more of a chance at a quiet kill. Sam nodded.

"Do it, but only you and Baird. I'll try from above." Sam said, her eyes flicking to the metal braces running below the ceiling. The stack of boxes Pad mentioned could be climbed easily.

The three moved away from the stairs to their hiding place one at a time to prevent detection. Baird went first, then Pad, and then Sam brought up the rear. When they reached the crates, Sam nodded to the other two and climbed the crates quietly, using a mixture of chakra manipulation and even weight distribution to keep her ascension as quiet as possible. The wood creaked slightly, but not enough to worry her. The pounding rain outside and the rattle of tools in the Packhorse more than covered the protests of the aged wood.

Sam made the transition from crate to iron beam silently, flourishing her knife in preparation. She had killed with a knife before, but it didn't prevent the rush of exhilaration she felt as adrenaline flooded her system. The deep, calming breaths she took kept her focus clear, and time seemed to slow as she approached her target: the Grenadier. Hammerbursts were inaccurate at close range, and should Baird and Pad fail to kill all four Drones silently, their chances were better against a burst rifle with nasty recoil than the lever action Gnasher shotgun. Grenadiers were also fierce in close combat and built like Cole, ready to tear unfortunate humans apart with their bare hands.

Sam looked down, and saw Baird and Pad stacked up near the edges of the crates. There was less than four meters between the two and the nearest Drone. Baird looked up and nodded at her. They would move once she dropped.

Sam steeled herself, taking a deep breath, and then the ground rushed up to her as she landed on her victim. The Grenadier wasn't expecting a Gear in medium armor to slam into him from on high, and the impact took the two to the ground. The smell was awful, as if a swamp monster had rolled around in decaying meat for three days. Before the grub could gather its wits, Sam scrambled them with her knife. The blade slid home smoothly, the Grenadier's enlarged temple providing soft tissue and a direct path to her enemy's brain. Sam twisted the blade to be sure, causing her victim to twitch violently as she cleaned his clock like an over ripened pumpkin.

As Sam pulled her knife from the corpse, Baird and Pad made their moves. The Drones reacted slowly to their leader going down, and one on the left rear side of the Packhorse received an axe in the back of its head before he could move. On the right, Baird dug his blade into the other Drone's side and carved upward, puncturing kidney and lung before he withdrew it and drove the tip into the grub's throat. Sam rushed the second grub on the right, confident that Pad could handle another one. The one she was focused on saw her coming, and lifted his rifle from the Packhorse's driver seat. He never got to use it, instead getting a very sharp smell of blade as the Kashkuri woman drove the knife straight into the soft tissue of the Drone's nose. The knife entered to the hilt, and then she used the handle as leverage to break the grub's neck. It went limp, falling dead to the ground. Sam maintained her hold on the knife and kept it as her victim fell to the ground with a wet schlick!

On the other side, Pad pulled the head of his axe out of the first Drone's head and swung at the second one. This one was faster, however, and blocked the overhead strike with its rifle. Pad threw a kick to the grub's knee and sent it down. However, the Drone wasn't one to go down easy as it used the lowered center of gravity to tackle Pad, knocking the breath out of him and sending them both to the ground. As Pad regained his breath and swung from below, the Drone readied its rifle. In order to avoid a few extra nose holes, Pad diverted his upward strike to deflect the rifle instead of kill his opponent. The Drone pulled the trigger anyway, sending chips of concrete flying as a burst of fire echoed throughout the depot.

The gunshots were loud, even despite the pouring rain. Pad winced at the closeness of the shots, and barely looked up in time to see Sam grip the Drone's chin with one hand and drive her blade into its windpipe with the other. The grub gurgled and spat as its lifeblood spurted on the ground, its arms falling limp and letting the Hammerburst clatter to the ground. Sam pulled the knife away hard, causing the Drone to spin as it bit the dirt. A wordless snarl was etched on her face, but it softened into a look of determination as she helped Pad back to his feet.

"They'll have heard that. Grab your rifle, Pad, and get up top. We're having company." She growled. Pad didn't take the time to apologize; fist fights with Locust very rarely ended well, and she couldn't expect anyone, except maybe her father, to do it quietly. Cole came running up the stairs with his Lancer at the ready, looking around for his squad. He must have heard the shots.

"Get ready, Cole! We've got incoming. Everyone set to channel three. Pad, call out what you can't pick off. Don't attract to much attention, but try to thin them out. Baird, cover the south door!" Sam barked orders, and Lima moved. Pad ran to the ladder and climbed quickly, working his arms as quickly as he could to get to the top before any more 'visitors' showed up. When he reached the top, the rain had slackened somewhat, and sunlight streamed in from the east. It allowed him to see three Wretches gallop into the depot from the north side. As he slowly looked around the perimeter, he could see more Drones coming toward the depot from Char. They had kicked the hornet's nest this time. Well, time to work. Pad thought with a shrug.

"We've got Wretches coming in from the north, and a group of the regular buggers approaching from the city. It's about to get hot!" Pad's voice came over the radio. Cole turned to face the north side of the building, just in time to stitch five shots diagonally across the first Wretch to appear from the door. The other two came in soon after, and Cole emptied half the magazine into them before they stopped moving.

"Sorry baby, but this party is invite only! WHOO!" Cole crowed, changing the half-spent mag for a fresh one. Baird sat just inside the east door, and winced when he heard Pad's Markza speak twice. Down range, two Drones dropped to the ground in spurts of blood. Seven more of their brethren stepped over them. Baird urged the others to join their friends on the grounds with three bursts of fire, and managed to convince two more to drop. Baird was tempted to move out for a better angle, but he knew it was better to let them come to him.

While the others fought off the impending assault with gusto, Sam checked her watch. 0639 hours, just shy of thirty minute from the Hammer drop. If they could hold off the incoming forces for that long, the ensuing fire would very likely solve their pest problem. Sam nodded and put a finger to her ear.

"We need to hold out for twenty minutes. The Hammer strikes will hit soon, so use ammo sparingly. If it gets too hot, we'll fall back to the bunker." Sam ordered calmly. She got three clicks in confirmation, meaning that they were too busy shooting to give verbal acknowledgment. On top of the building, three more shots boomed as Pad picked off incoming hostiles.

"We've got Boomers approaching. I dropped one, but they're using the cars for cover." Pad advised, and Sam could faintly hear him reloading over the comm.

"Keep up your fire. Once they start getting in, pull back and come down to the bunker Pad." Sam told him. Because he was a ladder away from the rest of them, Pad was technically the furthest away from the safety of the bunker. Once things turned sour, he was the one at greatest risk of getting cut off.

"Roger that, Sarge." Another bark from his rifle signaled another dead grub. Sam dashed toward the east door, where Baird had dropped a crate for cover and something to brace his rifle on. If it also blocked the door, who was he to complain?

"Here for the fun, or just to see the handsome blonde work?" He joked, before squeezing off another burst out the door. Sam watched the bullets end another Drone, then tossed a grenade towards the tracks. Conveniently enough, the first Boomer turned the corner just as the frag detonated. The ten foot tall fat ass toting a Boomshot was pulped by the explosive. Chunks of flesh and meat rained down onto the ground, but another Boomer spoiled any celebration she had in mind.

"I guess we've ticked off a sizable force." She said, dropping another couple of Wretches that tried to dart between boxcars at the wrong time. Baird agreed, using the time she was shooting to reload. Behind them, Cole whooped again just before they heard the roar of the Lancer's chainsaw bayonet. Whatever Cole had gotten a hold of, it was very dead.

"Yeah, it's starting to get a little hot. Can we leave Facepaint upstairs? Please?" Baird sneered as he charged his weapon, sealing the mag well and sending a round into the chamber. Sam swatted him on the shoulder, then touched her ear again.

"Pad, we're getting visitors. Get down here and head for the bunker. Cole, once he gets there, follow him in." Sam said, before pulling Baird away from the door by the collar of his armor.

The fight had lasted for roughly fifteen minutes, more than enough for them to retreat and let the Hammer do the work. As Sam and Baird crossed the floor back toward the bunker, they could see Pad sliding down the ladder. Cole backed toward them as well, peppering the opposite door with rounds to prevent the Locust from coming inside. Pad dropped down into the staircase two at a time, slinging the door open for the others to come in. Sam and Baird rounded the stairs, Sam slapping Cole on the back to let him know it was time to withdraw. Together, the three of them passed through the exterior door and Pad slammed it shut. The Islander pushed the crossbeam into the locked mode, granting them a few moments of breathing space. A lantern inside the bunker gave off light through the inner door, their only source of illumination in the powerless bunker. Baird and Cole collected a few more magazine from the ammo crate near their bedrolls, and Sam checked her watch again. 0658 hours showed on her timepiece, and she pointed toward the interior door.

"Everyone get close to the columns inside! They'll be the strongest when everything goes down." Sam yelled. Lima Squad made it into the bunker and barred the inner door, then they grabbed two pillars. Pad and Cole huddled at the base of one, while Baird and Sam stayed near the other. Outside, they could hear the Locust pounding on the exterior door. Clearly, the door was doing its job.

"If the Hammer doesn't hit hard enough, we're going to have a lot of angry house guests and no way out." Baird warned. Sam was close enough to feel his breath on her face. Sam nodded, confident that the weapon would be effective.

"If it's strong enough to level a city, it will be able to hit here. That's the whole reason we chose this place." Sam's voice was level, but inside she was worried. They were here to observe, so what if Baird was right? It would mean they would be in deep shit.

"In case it doesn't-" Sam didn't get to finish before a deep bellow filled the air, like a trumpet from heaven itself. The ground shook terribly, causing concrete to crack and dust to fall from the ceiling. A chunk of concrete fell on the lantern, plunging the room into darkness as the world outside burned.

Sam couldn't see clearly enough to know that her squad was okay, and the rumbling drowned out any chance of verbal confirmation. Sam was used to things going to plan, or at least going to back up plan. The bunker was falling to pieces, clearly a sign that they were closer to the blast zone than previous designated. Deep down, Sam felt a gripping fear that her team wouldn't make it out of this one. Failure was one thing, but success could go to Hell as long as her squad made it out. And now, death was raining down from on high.

It didn't feel wrong at all to follow Baird's arm and grasp his hand. He didn't seem to mind, considering the reassuring squeeze he gave her. In the darkness, she smiled at the gesture. Even as the world ended around them, she could count on Baird.

What she didn't count on was the chunk of concrete falling on her head and sending her into oblivion.

Thirty minutes earlier...

Prescott found that keeping promises was a pivotal part of being the leader of the COG. Integrity was a positive human notion, and in a world under attack by monsters, humanity was sorely needed.

But Richard's promise to keep was the mass destruction of Sera. As he stood in the CIC of Ephyra, he briefly considered letting this one slide. As soon as the prospect came to mind, he dismissed it. Even if the Hammer didn't wipe out every Locust on the face of the planet, they couldn't allow the thousands of military assets to fall into the hands of the enemy. As for the civilians that hadn't evacuated in time... well, it was better to die by friendly fire than be hunted down and killed by vicious monsters.

Hoffman approached from the table, his command key clutched tightly in his fist. The bald colonel didn't seem angry so much as he did depressed. Hoffman didn't shirk from duty, but this would be the greatest single genocide in human history. No one could be prepared for that.

"Victor, the command key has a chain. You're less likely to lose it when it's around your neck." Prescott admonished lightly. Hoffman looked down at the key in his hand, then back at the Chairman.

"At this point, I need to remember how heavy it is. There's nothing good in what we're about to do." Hoffman wasn't one for undue sentiment, but Prescott had to agree with him. No matter what happened after today, he needed people that understood the gravity of these decisions. Hoffman understood exactly what they were going to do.

"I understand the point, but do try not to lose it. That would be embarrassing." Before Prescott could say more, Solomon Bardry entered the room, the third and final command key wrapped around his arm like prayer beads.

"General, good to have you. It's almost time." Prescott said politely. Bardry nodded silently, and took his place at the command console. He didn't say anything, and didn't look at anyone. Bardry just stared at the console where his key would end the world. It seemed the general was still wrestling with what they were about to do. Either that, or he was focusing on the console to compartmentalize the moment and process mass murder later.

The time passed slowly as radio reports continued to flood the CIC, a discordant mix of Gears fighting off Locust at the fringes of the safe zone, sappers putting the finishing touches on emergency shelters, and police forces organizing the intake of refugees. It was like an auditory cloud, easy to lose the time by focusing on on each individual conversation. The time passed as such, though Hoffman shifted from foot to foot in an anxious display Prescott doubted he was even aware of.

"Have you heard anything about your wife, Victor?" Prescott asked. Hoffman didn't look at him at first, he just stared down at the key in his hand.

"She slipped out of the city and went after her sister. As of three minutes ago, none of our checkpoints reported her re-entering the safe zone." The response was clipped and monotonous, allowing no emotion to escape. He had sentenced his beloved wife to death, and Prescott had been generous enough to warn his secretary.

The clock pinged a three minute warning, and several lights on the command console started blinking. Together, Hoffman and Prescott turned to face the console and approached it, standing beside Bardry. Bardry moved first, removing the safety cover and inserting his key hastily, as if to be done with this responsibility. Hoffman and Prescott inserted their keys as well, with more control by comparison. The console blinked red, and then green as each key found its home. When all three were inserted, a safety cover pulled back from the center switch. For a weapon designed to nearly end the world, Prescott felt that the button should have been bigger.

"I am sorry for this." Prescott said, more to those he was about to end than to anyone in the room. His finger hovered over the switch for a moment, a second of hesitation as he looked out at the world. The world before his decision was made.

"Please, forgive us." And then he killed them all.