Chapter Sixty One
September 17th, 2077
Night City, Northern California
Batty's Hotel, Coast View
Isolating the Centaur's proved to be a difficult task inside these confined quarters, but Cyrus wasn't in the business of making excuses for one's own inadequacy.
The tight spaces left minimal room to maneuver, forcing the Headhunters to spread themselves out in hopes of drawing the Centaurs into a manufactured kill zone.
The shadows welcomed them like a parent would a lost child, embracing the Spartans wholeheartedly in a wave of darkness that even the most advanced optics could barely discern their frames.
A trio of Centaurs broke into the collapsed room, searching for their corpses. The Rogue AI was certain that a collapse of this magnitude would have killed or, at the very least, immobilized the Spartans for termination.
Cyrus slipped past a Centaur that drove a boot through a slab of concrete where he and Eliza had been trapped under not minutes earlier.
The concrete cracked underneath the exoskeleton's weight, and with a great heave, the Centaur removed the broken slab in search of Spartan prey.
What it received instead was an explosive gift.
*BOOM!*
Cyrus' last remaining grenade detonated underneath the Centaur's frame, propelling a wave of shrapnel that tore through its thermal cannon and primary chassis.
A metallic scream drew another Centaurs gaze, allowing Eliza to drive her blade through the Voodoo Boy's skull. The dagger cut through the Operator's jawbone and slashed into the frontal cortex.
Eliza pulled the exoskeleton's full frame into the darkness and watched the surviving Centaur activate its thermal cannon.
Cyrus dashed forward, sliding underneath a scorching red beam that cut a horizontal line across the entire room. The Centaur spotted his shimmering form and swung its cannon upward.
The Spartan pulled a piece of rebar from the floor and hurled it at the Voodoo Boys' cranium, forcing him to raise his ballistic shield in defense.
Cyrus closed the remaining distance in a blur, driving his fist through the Centaurs shield before ripping its still active thermal cannon clean from its socket.
A pair of Centaurs reinforcing their fallen brethren were immediately cut in half by the severed Thermal Cannon, and Eliza used the shift in momentum to rip an Mk.31 from a long-deceased Voodoo Boy Gunner.
She raised the HMG just in time to suppress another group of Centaurs trying to block off any further advances.
"Having fun?" Chamber's voice mixed in with the cacophony of high explosive shells.
"What do you think?" Cyrus retorted, disposing of the spent Thermal Cannon and sliding back into cover. Chamber activated his motion tracker and registered at least two dozen more Centaurs still in play.
Her processes placed their odds of survival at 90%, but they weren't the only ones knee-deep in contact. Mage Company was taking a beating, and even the added firepower from Disciple Company was barely matching the Rogue AI's human wave tactics.
Time was fighting against them, and Chamber toyed with the idea of sending Dragov's team to back up their assault on the Data Fortress. The chances of a favorable outcome improved, but so did Mage Company's casualty count.
They couldn't have one without the other, but it wasn't Chamber's decision to make.
"I have Dragov's team on standb-."
"No." Her Spartans tone was cut from steel and laced with his innate authority. "Keep everyone on current taskings. We're stretched thin enough as i-."
A Centaur blasted through the wall next to Cyrus, sending chunks of plaster and metal flying in all directions. He ducked to his right and slammed the brim of his knuckles into the exoskeleton's knee joint, knocking it off balance and buckling its leg.
The massive combat borg tried to reorientate its balance on its undamaged leg, but its heavy tonnage destabilized its balance further, allowing Cyrus to sweep its legs and send it crashing into a pile of rubble. The Spartan knocked the Centaurs Thermal Cannon to the side and smashed his armored foot through its sternum, buckling its protective cade and crushing flesh and metal alike.
Eliza had repurposed a Centaurs ballistic shield in the heat of his engagement, anchoring the muzzle of her Mk.31 to its edge while its previous owner's left arm dangled from the handle.
She laid down a base of fire that crashed into a ring of Centaur steel, sparing Cyrus a glance in the process.
"You good?" Her answer was a stern nod and a reflection from his drawn Kukri. However, a trio of Thermal beams chipped away at her ballistic shield, overheating the outer alloys and forcing her to ditch the protective equipment and HMG.
She whirled back into cover and snatched a discarded Ajax from the rubble. Cyrus scavenged a Tactician and slid a handful of shotgun shells into his ammo compartments.
"Five down," Eliza reported, slamming a fresh magazine into her rifle while glancing towards her motion tracker. "Twelve more to go, and I don't think we should expect another assault from these lot."
The Rogue AI immediately abandoned any direct confrontation after losing a handful of Centaurs in favor of a defensive measure anchored around the Data Fortress.
The Spartans would have to breach their defensive ring piece by piece, but that would take time. Something that his men outside did not have an abundance of if Chamber's observations were anything to go by.
"Can Mage Company hold out?" Cyrus asked his trusty AI.
"That depends on how many of them you want to survive the night."
A large concentration of Voodoo Boy Militia was gathering outside Mage Company's engagement zone. Gunships were being dispatched to disperse the crowd, but the Voodoo Boys AA network forced them to disengage before they could bring their full armament to bear.
In short, the situation outside was rapidly approaching the dreaded FUBAR acronym.
They were privileged to have a contingency plan for this circumstance, but Cyrus privately hoped they wouldn't need to activate.
But plans rarely go to schedule.
"Chamber." An ethereal avatar appeared before him, her eyes brimming with as much life as the always present smile.
"Yes?" She knew his intentions long before Cyrus called upon her, but his verbal command was the final provocation to unleash their last trump card.
"Activate Nomad Contignency."
Night City, Northern California
Outskirts, West Wind
"Contact! Heavy contact left side!"
"The Militia has taken everything east of MSR Neptune! Where the fuck is our air support!?"
"Mage Two-One, this is Mage Six. I need you to fall back towards DP Saratoga and lock down the intersection, over!"
"Two-One moving out now!"
The chaos of war was a haunting noise to the uninitiated, but Mitch welcomed it with open arms. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, and his senses sharpened with each frantic yet steady radio transmission.
The Mercs were doing a helluva job maintaining their composure on comms, and Mitch could scarcely believe they managed to survive this long.
Urban cities are the worst environment possible to fight in, and the Nomad had his fair share of experience in that field.
The sun had long since fallen below the horizon, igniting the whole of Pacifica in a mixture of city lights and blazing infernos.
AVs bearing the emblem of local news networks hovered on the outskirts of the NCPD cordon.
"Goddamn Vultures," Mitch muttered under his breath, drawing a curious look from Cassidy.
"What was that?"
"Nothing." The Nomad glanced at the armored convoy behind him.
A full complement of Aldecaldo APCs and heavily armored Thortons sat on the outskirts of West Wind. Riding atop these beats of war were over a hundred Dust Raiders and Rangers drawn from the best the Aldecaldos had to offer.
They were to serve as a venerable force multiplier on the off chance Cyrus's Mercs bit off more than they could chew.
And from his vantage point, Mitch could confidently say that an Aldecaldo deployment to Pacifica was almost certain.
Now all they needed was the green light from Chamber.
Mitch turned back to Cassidy with a question in mind. "Are we ready?"
"Tanks topped off, and weapons are hot and ready," Cassidy answered, exhaling a puff of smoke from his western cigar. "Just waiting on the final word."
"It'll be here sooner than you think." The crack of gunfire and echoing explosions guaranteed an intervention by the Aldecaldos. "Make sure the bulldozers are set. The last thing we need is a loose tombstone falling off in the middle of our run."
And what a run it would be.
Sixteen Aldecaldo Heavy's rolling down a choked-up highway spraying down everything that moved. It was the kind of raid Nomads fantasized about, and every dust rider alive would give their right arm to be in their place.
"I'll double-check, then triple-check." Both Nomads paused at a familiar Warhorse rolling past the gathered convoy. "And here I thought Panam would be late as usual."
"Not for this job," Mitch replied, crossing his arms and leaning against the side of his Archer. "Our little Chief has a lot riding on this plan working."
Cassidy spied a familiar Mercenary riding in Panam's passenger seat. "And what about V?"
"Same reasons." Mitch turned towards Panam's Thorton as it rolled up parallel to his Archer. V was the first to step out, followed by a levelheaded Panam while pocketing her phone. "What's the word?"
"We're going in." The gathered Nomads felt a jolt of adrenaline run through their veins. "Cassidy's up front, and I want our Rangers dispersed evenly within the convoy. Those Mercs are in hell right now, and we're gonna walk them out."
"What are we up against?" The Aldecaldo in charge of the convoys infantry complement, Jared Keller, spoke up.
"Whole goddamn district by the sounds of it." She relayed while waving towards a burning Pacifica. "Mercs are getting shot up by gangoons and armed civilians alike, and the gunships are dodging AA missiles up and down the hot zone."
"Heavy weaponry?" One of Keller's men inquired.
"Enough to keep a company of Mercs on their heels, but whatever they lack in firepower is supplemented by manpower," Panam answered. "Chamber wants us to knock over a few hardpoints housing MANPAD launchers. We take them out, then Romeo Squadron can start raining hell. Anything else?"
The silence was all that answered her question, but she took it in stride and set her Nomads to work.
"Alright, mount up!" All ninety-six Aldecaldos snapped to attention and dispersed to their vehicles. Panam caught a Copperhead-wielding Nomad by his arm just before he could scurry away. "Baker, you're up front with Cassidy. Don't stop for anything, man, woman, or child!"
"Say less, sister."
Mitch watched his dust riders storm for their vehicles, dirt kicking up behind their heavy footfalls. He caught Panam's eye long enough to exchange a sharp nod before sliding into the passenger seat. He jacked into the Archer's remote HMG while Carol performed last-minute quality assurance checks from the wheel. Two Rangers assigned as his vehicle's security hopped in, leaning their rifles against the brim of their windows.
Carol spared all three Aldecaldos a knowing glance while she nursed the Archer's engine. "Nervous?"
"We weren't in Juarez." Mitch answered, his eyes burning a bright red while he jacked into the Archer's defense turret ."Why would this one be any different?"
"We were rolling around in Militech Panzers back then." Both veterans couldn't help but shiver at the reminder of driving those hot boxes through the desert. "This baby can take a beating, but I would feel better in a Basilisk."
"Well, we don't have one tonight."
"If you signed off on raiding that Militech convoy a few days earlier, we'd have it in tow." Carol started, eye to eye with Mitch as he fought an exasperated groan. "At least then, it would have been ready for the mother of all runs, but nooooo we have to take the safe route."
This was an old argument that both Carol and Panam had been up Mitch's ass about for the last few days. In hindsight, waiting until the last minute to snatch the Militech Basilisk was a terrible idea, but how was he supposed to know they'd need it for a raid in Pacifica of all places.
Still, it was a little late to be bitching up a storm about what they didn't have.
"Are you done?"
"For now." She said dismissively, her fingers wrapping tightly around the steering wheel. "When we get back to camp, we're spending all night putting that baby together."
Aldecaldo engines roared into the night sky like wolves on the prowl. Rangers felt their palms sweat from the tight grip on their firearms, and drivers cracked their knuckles while keeping an eye on the horizon.
Tonight would be one of the most glorious runs in their history.
And if Mitch had it his way, he'd live long enough to tell the story.
But first, he had to survive the mother of all gauntlets.
Life was rarely boring for an Aldecaldo.
Night City, Northern California
Batty's Hotel, Coast View
"Dragov! Get your ass on the line now!" The transmission mixed in with the chaos of gunfire and explosions, but he heard it all the same. "We got Militia coming in from the east!"
The Bloodhound switched places with a Mage Company rifleman who tapped him once on the shoulder. "Go, I'll cover!"
Dragov didn't hesitate to break contact with the platoon-sized element pressuring their eastern flank, seamlessly switching places with the Operator and sprinting towards the southern front.
He weaved his massive frame through the battle lines, running past Mage Company soldiers throwing as many rounds downrange as possible. Dirt and ricocheting bullets popped up all around the Operators, knicking a few soldiers in the process and drawing a nearby medic to their cries.
Dragov's heads-up display supplied him with a near-constant stream of essential data on Mage Company's defensive posture and the most heavily engaged positions.
The rest of Dragov's team followed in his wake, trying their damndest to keep up with the hulking man who was way too fast for his size. Conley and Falcon hopped and ran past a combat medic dragging a wounded operator by the back of his armor while Eagle maintained a distance to converse with Ronin.
Their sister team consisting of four Sirens, supported the Bloodhounds flanks with accurate sniper fire alongside a group of Mage Company sharpshooters. By now, any means of distinct organization between the three groups had completely fallen apart as Chamber threw everything she had against the Voodoo Boy horde.
Inside Batty's Hotel, the rest of Disciple Company was still heavily engaged with surviving Vanyons leaving Disciple One and Two to seamlessly integrate with their Blackwatch counterparts. Their inclusion in the defense perimeter provided a fluid, quick reaction force against any focused incursion along their battle line.
Dragov stormed forward, activating his ballistic shield and drawing a hail of bullets to his massive frame.
Conley slid to his left next to a Blackwatch operator taking cover behind a bullet-riddled Archer and exchanged a burst of gunfire with a trio of heavily armed Militia. A spray of rounds walked up the side of the car's hood and down the side of the Operator's rifle, slamming into the meat of his forearm and forcing him back with a cry of pain.
"Fuck. I'm hit!" A combat medic rushed towards their position while Conley took his position on the firing line. A burst of ear-shattering rounds bracketed their defensive line, knocking down a short wall protecting a pair of Blackwatch riflemen called Gator and Jackal.
Gator was knocked backward, clutching at his sternum and gasping for oxygen. A ballistic shell managed to pierce his body armor and eject the wind from his stomach. Jackal stood to his feet in a fury, helmetless for all to see but cursing at random as he grasped his Copperhead and resumed firing at a group of Militia across the avenue.
"One-One, close the gap!" Three Blackwatch Operators answered Ronin's call and pushed up toward her position, adding their firearms to the swarm of exchanging gunfire.
"Mind if we back you up, Bloodhound?" Corporal James 'Grim' Morrison sarcastically inquired, gunning down a Voodoo Boy running towards them with a drag grenade.
"Be my guest," Conley replied, her eye glimpsing towards a grimacing Dragov bracing his full weight into his Ballistic shield.
A stream of gunfire poured in from a three-story building across the street. The Voodoo Boys were spread thinly along MSR Neptune, but the structure was an anchor to their defensive line.
It was a shit show everywhere she looked, but the pure fact that Mage Company managed to take control of the Chapel and the immediate grounds of Batty's Hotel was damn near a miracle.
The skyline of Night City loomed overhead, and the flickering skylights from Corporate Plaza were a constant reminder that they were fighting in the middle of a big city. Fires continued to burn around Batty's hotel, where the remnants of Romeo Six-One burned brightly.
She didn't know the status of either pilot, but in the grand scheme of things, it didn't matter to her.
All that mattered was surviving this gauntlet.
Disciple's commanding officer pulled his Ajax up the avenue and saw a Voodoo Boy scout trying to line up a headshot on the medic. He fired once and watched the bullet ricochet through the scout's left orbital and crash through their cranium. With a silent curse, he observed a gap in their western perimeter and ordered Leopard's Squad to dispatch a fire team to assist Mage Three.
"Chamber, we can't hold this position much longer." An explosion nearly knocked Eagle off his feet, but he managed to brace himself against a concrete wall. "We're in danger of being overrun!"
"You will hold your ground, Eagle." Chamber countered. "Nomad Contingency is in effect, and reinforcements are en route to your position. ETA ten mikes."
Iwasaki didn't have the best opinion of Nomads, and he was in no position to complain, but the fact remained that their defensive line was hanging on by a thread.
"With respect, Chamber." Ronin cut into the command channel, his background a mess of gunfire and explosions. "I doubt we'll last longer than five minutes without air support."
The UNSC AI silently agreed with the Blackwatch Commander's assertations and sought an immediate answer to their problem. She scanned the district's CCTV, searching for contrail lines and a distinct pop belonging to the Voodoo Boys MANPADS.
In mere seconds she located three distinct structures matching the audible cues and well within striking range of Disciple and Mage Company. She pushed this data to their HUDs and designated the most capable squads to utilize.
Eagle and Ronin didn't speak a word of protest to the AI and immediately raised their squad leaders on comm.
"Dragov, this is Eagle. Come in over." The massive Bloodhound let out a wordless grunt and squeezed off a burst of gunfire from his M2067 Defender.
"Go ahead, Eagle." The transmission was pockmarked with background noise, but Dragov ignored them nonetheless.
"I'm pushing data to your optic." A small window appeared in the bottom right corner of Dragov's HUD, providing an overhead view of Pacifica. "I need you and your team to clear out a Voodoo Boy hardpoint designated as OBJ Ares. The Militia are coordinating their anti-air from that location. We can get Romeo squadron to saturate MSR Neptune if you knock them down. Disciple Two will back you up, and a tertiary force is en route to the position. How copy?"
"Copy all. We'll get it done." Dragov ignored his yearning for details on this tertiary force and flashed a single hand signal toward Falcon and Conley, who nodded once and began peeling towards the south. Likewise, their sister squad broke immediate contact and converged towards a designated rally point provided by Eagle.
Falcon sat crouched behind a neck-high wall with the rest of his team when a familiar face slid beside him.
"Hey, I know you." Falcon felt a smile creep upon his visage. "Didn't think you'd survive this long, Tsutsumi."
"Only by the skin of my teeth, Pavlenko." Falcon glanced behind him and witnessed the rest of Disciple Two arrive at the rally point. "Casualties?"
"Heitler got knocked up a bit," Weaver stumbled into their cover with his armor sporting nasty shrapnel marks. "But he still has that ugly face and shitty sense of humor. Ain't that right, brother?"
"Piss off."
"See right as rain." Falcon ignored Pavlenko's antics and crossed eyes with Leopard, who saddled up next to Dragov to dish out last-minute orders.
"I need two fire teams." Umeki began. "Tsutsumi, you're in charge of my Alpha team while Conley takes command of Bravo. Dragov's up front. He'll draw as much fire as possible to give us cover. When we get the go-ahead, break for the alleyway across the avenue and make for OBJ Ares. Don't stop! Don't think! Clear?!"
"Yes, ma'am!" Hatcher and Micro fell in with Conley alongside their Siren Partners, forming their makeshift fireteam while Falcon's team waited with bated breath.
Mage One began to receive their orders, and within seconds the entire platoon opened up with everything they had. Streams of lethal gunfire smashed into the Militia fighting position, slaughtering nearly a dozen and forcing many more to seek shelter.
The time was now.
"Follow me." Dragov broke from cover and stormed across the avenue with the kinetic energy of a runaway train. Leopard quickly followed the brute's wake, with Alpha team trailing a few feet behind her and Bravo bringing up the rear.
Anticipation and adrenaline ran rampant amongst the Bloodhounds and Sirens as they fought toward OBJ Ares.
Mission time was pushing its second hour, and their limbs began to tire from the constant fighting. Three street blocks and a long avenue separated the Bloodhounds and Sirens from their main objective, with the Voodoo Boy Militia firing recklessly down the alleyways and boulevards from every direction.
They found temporary solace inside a blown-out convenience store, but Leopard urged them forward, unwilling to let her Squad be separated from friendly lines longer than they needed to be.
Reluctantly, they abandoned the safety of their current positions and began moving south down an alley about a dozen yards wide. Ahead they heard the echo of pitched battle but continued to maintain their bearings and cover every potential doorway and window sill.
Dragov led the procession and warned his companions to stay away from the walls. When these many bullets were getting tossed around, there was a real fear that a stray bullet could ride walls for hundreds of feet. In this kind of environment, bracing against a wall could be just as dangerous as standing in the middle of a street.
The Somalis opened up as soon as their little group stepped out to move. Armed Militia popped up out of every window, doorway, and corner imaginable, unleashing bursts of automatic fire and receiving a single retaliatory bullet from either a Bloodhound or Siren.
At each junction, they met heavy yet sporadic resistance from an increasingly disorganized mob of Voodoo Boys.
The Rogue AI was having a difficult time maintaining a grasp on its forces while simultaneously organizing a proper defense against the Spartans. It was only a matter of time before the Rogue went for broke and unleashed the full district upon Mage Company.
Leopard refused to let that happen.
The Bloodhounds and Sirens stopped for nothing, weaving in between teams of Vanyons, trying to slow them down with precise bursts of gunfire. Falcon ran up the right side of the alleyway and leapfrogged a Vanyon that tried to bisect him in half with a thermal Monoblade.
One of the Sirens trailing behind triggered her monowire and jumped up over the Vanyon, wrapping the filament around his throat and tearing his head clean off. Micro nearly had her own head taken off by an armed civilian stepping into the alleyway with a Copperhead in hand, but Hatcher covered her blindside and buried a burst of 5.56 in the man's frontal cortex.
"We're almost there! Keep moving!" Leopard urged them onward, tossing a pair of smoke grenades up and down a broad avenue perpendicular to their objective.
Dragov, with Kerrigan and Nightowl in tow, were the first to round the corner on Orchard Street, where their target building loomed up ahead. It was a three-story residential building sitting on the corner of Packer Avenue and garrisoned by a platoon's worth of Voodoo Boys.
"Fuck me." Dragov couldn't bring himself to respond to Pavleko's unrestrained mouth, his thoughts too preoccupied with working out how to breach the target building without being killed.
"What do you see, Dragov?" Leopard inquired, her eyes scanning the alleyway windows for Militia.
A ring of makeshift barricades surrounded the corner building, manned by a squad of Vanyons with two HMG emplacements covering 270 degrees of space. Fortunately, the barriers surrounded a few dozen abandoned vehicles that could be used as hard cover, but the engagement was bound to be a slog.
"Heavy gun emplacement and a lot of Militia." Dragov's gaze turned towards the Bloodhound. "Abandoned vehicles surround the fortifications, but those HMGs will tear through us if we don't kill them first."
"Then we need elevation and surprise." Leopard nodded towards an adjacent structure connected to their alleyway. "Conley, sweep this building and take sniping positions. Dragov's team will quietly push up the avenue and engage your mark. Check?"
"Check!"
"Move!" Micro took point for Bravo team, opening the building's back door wide enough for Conley's seekers to roll through. The autonomous drones gave off a small magnetic pulse that marked four distinct contacts for her team to eliminate.
Dragov pulled his attention away from Conley's team and silently ordered his Bloodhounds to rally up.
"Breaching." The creaking of a metal door and four silent puffs leaked into the alleyway, but the Militia garrison remained none the wiser.
"Pavlenko, Kerrigan, you're first," Leopard ordered. The Bloodhound and Siren spilled out into the street while their team covered their advance.
Weaver's finger lightly ghosted over his AR's trigger, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. His eyes ignored the youth in his target's visage and focused solely on his steady breath.
Once Nightowl and Kerrigan slid behind an overturned Thornton, Dragov broke out into the avenue with Leopard shadowing his every step. Weaver and Lyla followed at a sedated pace, but they continued to maintain their sights downrange.
The pair slid behind a smoldering Quadra with its owner's skeletal remains sprawled over the steering wheel. Weaver braced his rifle against the brim of the driver-side window, fittin his barrel between the dead man's charred spine and burned-out seat.
"Bravo in position." Lyla glanced upward and found Aurelia flashing her a thumbs up.
"On you're go, Conley." A trio of seekers rolled onto the street, bouncing past chunks of rubble and sliding through the smallest openings.
Pavlenko felt one seeker brush past his left knee and make a straight beeline for a Militia HMG. Nonetheless, his attention remained focused on the forehead of a blank-faced Voodoo Boy staring off into the distance.
Seeing a human being so lifeless was almost surreal, and it cut into Pavlenko's soul to throw down with people that were regular civilians days earlier.
But fate is rarely a kind mistress.
Every passing second felt like an hour, but the backdrop of gunfire and explosions kept the Bloodhounds and Sirens on their toes. Conley's bright emerald orbs buzzed with an ethereal filter as she manipulated her seekers into position.
She hesitated to maneuver one between the legs of an adolescent boy who couldn't be older than sixteen, but the mounted HMG held within his hands tempered any doubts.
Conley glanced towards her accompanying Bloodhounds and Sirens, receiving nods of approval as each lined up their targets.
With silent regret, she activated her seeker's explosive charges and took no pleasure in seeing a child getting their lower half blown clean off.
The things one did in the name of duty.
A dozen silent puffs earned just as many muffled thuds, shifting a street that exploded into chaos into a quiet graveyard of burning cars and fresh corpses. Conley yearned for an ending, and she wasn't alone if the exhausted grunts from her fellow Bloodhounds were anything to go by.
"All clear." Leopard wasn't ignorant of her squads ailing morale and sought to address her subordinates with an empathetic voice. "Homestretch, guys. We're almost done."
Conley hoped she was right.
Out of the corner of her vision, she spotted a subtly glint barely concealed by tattered shade curtains.
Too late did Conley recognize the long barrel sticking out of the window
"Sniper!"
*BANG!*
In light of an increasingly busy schedule, I have made the decision to unlaunch my page.
This means that my page will be taken down until I can devote more time to writing. My stories will still be updated on a monthly basis most of the time, but I do not feel comfortable keeping it up.
Thank you all for contributing your time and money to my stories, and I hope you have a wonderful year.
I am shooting to be back to weekly updates this time next year. So stay tuned.