Chapter 2

It smelled horrible, to say the least. Walking through waist deep sewage and shit. Holding his weapons over his head so that the water wouldn't creep through the cracks and damage the firing mechanism, his muscles had gone stiff. But there weren't any Locust, so that was something. Gospel had long tied his handkerchief around his nose in an attempt to filter the smell. It helped only a little.

"Kappa squad, this is Control."

"Kappa squad here, what about the pick up?"

"I'm sorry sergeant, I haven't any updates on the Ravens position. However, we have reports that Sigma squad is in the area, with a large number of Stranded. You are to rendezvous with them."

Lopez growled. "Then what, the Stranded scurry onto the Raven while we're left to rot?"

"That is an order sergeant."

Lopez rumbled something. "Where are they?"

"There is a Stranded settlement a klick forward."

"Kappa out."

Gospel's flashlight caught the glow of the sewer's ladder, and he guided the light up to the manhole at the top. Lopez nodded. "I'm sick of this shit too. It's quiet up there. We can cover the klick faster outside than down here."

Lopez never put his Gnasher shotgun down. Gospel often wondered if he slept with it, loaded and nestled in his arms. How could he possibly avoid misfires? Instead of putting it on his back like a normal person would, he held it tightly in his right hand, while his left hand and legs worked at climbing the ladder. He more or less leapt along, and finally reaching the top, he pushed the manhole aside and climbed out. Gospel didn't believe he could perform the same feat. He put his Lancer on his back and climbed, rolling out of the manhole and to his feet.

"Area clear," Lopez said. "Gospel, you're in the sky."

Gospel nodded, slowly walking to the nearby building, one of the few that were relatively intact. He leapt, and caught hold of the fire escape, before hoisting himself up. The roof was clear of hostiles. Gospel took out his Longshot, moving to the roof's edge and taking position.

The street, like every other street in this forsaken city, was desolate. Fires that always burned, cars that couldn't drive, buildings crumbled around him, and not for the first time he was wary that the ground he stood under may open up and he would plumet to his death. Lopez took cover behind one of the disabled cars, and peeked out slightly.

Gospel didn't know how the Locust always seemed to know where they were. Maybe they could smell humans, but given their subterranean lives that seemed unlikely. Maybe they had taken a radio off a fallen Gear, but if that were true, they probably would have been ambushed in the sewers, rather than out in the street. The most logical explanation was simply that, given the Locust's numbers, they were every where, always. A sniper's bullet hit Lopez square in the chest and knocked him onto his back. He wasn't crippled, he rolled to his side into cover before he could be shot again. Gospel followed the orange trail back to its source; the foolish sniper who didn't duck as he jammed another shell into his rifle. Gospel aimed for the bumpy skin and roundness of the albino head, then the red glow of the goggles before pulling the trigger. He didn't have to see the head pop to know the sniper no longer posed a threat.

On the ground, Lopez had stood back up and was pouring shell after shell into the Drones who had popped out of some nook of the street. He scanned the streets for an emergence hole, but didn't see any. They had probably been waiting in the surrounding buildings. Locust were everywhere, like roaches, every shadow hid one.

Lopez wouldn't need any help with the Drones. Shell after shell exploded out, and when they got to close he swung the butt into their skulls, cracking their heads back and their necks at a painful angle. When his Gnasher was out of shells, he dropped it, and began crushing and beating the Drones with his bare hands. He wouldn't need Gospel's help with them, but he would have trouble with the Flamer who was shuffling and wobbling down the street. Even a slug right between the eyes wouldn't put the monster down, their skulls were just too thick. It would take at least five precise shots, and in that time it would be upon Lopez. But the fuel tank on their back, that was such a beautiful target, a glare catching the sun and giving him a perfect view to aim. A spiral of flame burst out of the crack, before the tank, the Flamer, and the five Drones who were surrounding it exploded in a show of orange.

Lopez stuffed shells back into his shotgun and twirled it on a finger, before lifting it to his eye and pumping fresh shells into the approaching horde. Gospel was calm and careful, noting the Locust who stayed behind, hiding and providing cover fire. From his vantage point, even as they hid in cover, he could pop each's head off with a well placed bullet. One kill he was particularly proud of was when he shot a crouching Drone in the back. The bullet passed all the way through to reach the tender roundness on the other side.

The last Locust died when Lopez dropped one of his gigantic boots onto its head. He gave a triumphant bellow before stuffing fresh shells into shotgun. Twenty three Locust in all, less than a sliver of their army. Lopez's voice came into Gospel's ear. "Control, how much farther?"

"Two blocks forward and a left."

"Kappa out. Gospel, stay in the sky."

Gospel nodded, but it seemed doubtful that Lopez saw. Never the less, he hurried through the street, taking cover behind each stack of sandbags or damaged car, peeking over to be sure there were no hostiles. Gospel hurried as well. He leapt from building to building, having long grown accustomed to the bulkiness of his armor. Only once did his foot slip, and he nearly fell down to the alleyway. At the last moment he caught the roof's ledge and dangled helplessly. He threw his rifle onto the roof, then gripped the ledge with both hands, hoisting himself up.

"Never seen anyone do a chin up with full armor," Lopez said. "Except for Cole Train."

Gospel was a bit embarrassed that his commanding officer should see such an ungraceful move, but pushed it from his mind. He followed his officer, bouncing along the roofs, then took up position at the ledge, examining the Stranded outpost.

Twenty foot high walls surrounded the complex, crafted from anything the Stranded could get a hold of. They looked hastily crafted, as if they should fall apart if a strong enough wind blew, but were built so thick and sturdy, they would keep even the most determined Drones out. The snipers and turrets could mow through wave after wave. Of course a Brumak could get through, but the Locust wouldn't waste one of them to simply kill a few rebels. At least he hoped.

At the moment, it wasn't the Locust that Gospel had to be concerned with. The Stranded weren't exactly friendly towards the COG, and with good reason. Even the ones who had taken part in Operation Lifeboat weren't exactly loyal to the government, they just wanted the best chance to survive, three meals and a warm bed. They would have joined the Locust if the Locust offered. They weren't soldiers, just children with guns.

Lopez kept his radio on, so from his perch, Gospel could hear the banter.

"Who the fuck are you?" the Stranded posted at the wall demanded. He was armed with a Hammerburst rifle, which wasn't surprising, they littered the ground like snowflakes in winter. He didn't hold it like a soldier, at the ready. It was held at his side, the muzzle level with his ankle, his arm loosely out of socket. It was his two comrades, each stationed in a Troika Turret and just itching to kill something, that Gospel watched. He could kill one, but it was the 1.4 seconds that he required to reload his rifle, in that time Lopez would be cut down. He would have to judge the situation, if necessary kill one before any shots were fired. Hopefully, the second wouldn't have the response time, and the additional threat could be removed.

"Sergeant Enrique Lopez of Kappa squad. I'm here to help hold off the Locust until we can evacuate. I understand that some of my comrades are in the walls."

The Stranded with the Hammerburst spat on the ground, not aiming for Lopez but not attempting to miss him either. "Open the gates," he shouted, and Gospel watched as his commanding officer walked through the barricade. He hadn't been ordered to leave his perch, so he put his back against the ledge and his rifle in his lap.

"Gospel," came Lopez's voice in his ear. He was speaking in a whisper. "Stay put until the Raven's come. I came alone. Lopez out."

It was unfair really, while the sergeant got to sleep and eat in the relative comfort of a fortified base, he would be left to on the roof with the chilly draft and only his last MRE and stale water. He brushed the hair out of his eyes, and thought about cutting it with his combat knife. He hadn't really had the opportunity to get a proper haircut, and he was ashamed to say he did look like a girl, with his small physique and shoulder length, silver hair. Most of all, he was bored. He didn't like acting as sharpshooter, but Martinez was killed the first day of the evacuation, and Lopez had picked up the blood caked rifle, shoved it into Gospel's chest, and gave a low grunt.

"Gospel?" That wasn't Lopez's voice in his ear. It was Major Downey's, Sigma squad's commander. Why couldn't Gospel stay in Sigma squad, he liked it so much better. "I would recognize that obnoxious silence anywhere. Lopez told me he's got you in the crow's nest. Well, I'm pulling rank. Get your bony albino ass down here in five minutes or you're pulling latrine duty. Downey out."

Gospel couldn't help but smile ear to ear, as he strapped his rifle to his back and began feverishly searching for a fire escape. There would be hell to pay tomorrow, after they rode the King Raven to safety and he was given his new assignment. Lopez would still be his CO, and Lopez would be pissed. But tomorrow was a long ways away.