Chapter 8: Unyielding (2)
Light.
Noise.
Squint.
Irritant.
These were the things that aroused me from slumber.
The first thing I did was press my lips together to stop anymore drool from leaking. Shaking my head, I forced myself to adjust to the harsh light of my desk screen.
My eye twitched at what I saw.
Another lost match.
Damn, and I tried really hard too. Goddamn, Scrin AI. I hated it, and I really should've known better than to set it to Steamroller. The game was always rigged against me whenever that happened.
'Still, it was a good match though,' I reasoned.
It wasn't that far from the truth. The fourway free-for-all at Dustbowl went well. As per usual, I went for the economic-slash-tech rush and locked the centre of the map with Emissaries, and Disruptor Towers. A line of obelisks with Flame Tanks on patrol that turned the ruined town into a no-entry zone whilst I worked to establish more Refineries and Harvesters for resource gathering. I would've won too if not for one small detail.
The Commando.
THE GODDAMN GDI COMMANDO!
The bloody flea got away with blowing more than half the main base before the Flame Tank got him. From there, things took a down spiral when the AI decided to gang up on me and-
Wait a moment, what the hell was that noise.
"Alert, our base is under attack." Came the monotone drone of EVA.
Well, shit.
I almost didn't bother wearing my full BDU.
Tying my belt, I stormed out of the room and headed straight to the elevator.
Rain shower.
What sounded like pings and clatters echoed across the ceiling. Only, I was fairly certain that wasn't water that was splattering on the hull.
"Incoming transmission."
"Commander!" Sergiu's voice resounded amidst screams, shouts and distant roars. "We're under attack! It's the Grimm!"
"Which direction and what comp?" I asked bluntly.
"The east!" he clamoured just before another screamed sounded. "Their coming from the damn east! We've got birds circling us and their skewering everything!"
"Get your men out of dodge! I'll….,"
The elevator doors chose to open at that moment. My attention lapsed and I came face to face with the last person I'd wanted to face.
His face still looked unnatural from the wounds, but I could still see his wide-eyed expression. His attire -standardised for the current militia- consisted of a black short-sleeved T-shirt over dark grey pants along with complementary Y-suspenders.
We stared at each other. My heart racing and throbbing even harder than before. Unable to find words for one another at that exact moment.
"Sir, sir!" Sergiu's panic filled the comm.
"Nothing! In cover now while I get us some AA!"
The man took my words as his cue to shuffle inside the small space of the lift. I didn't begrudge him and soon the doors closed, and we continued moving.
A single glance at the panel confirmed my own carelessness. Time was short and my men were dying. Yet, I could still find the time to be carelessness to press for the wrong fucking floor.
I turned to look at the man beside me. He looked to be impassive to my presence, or at least he seemed to be trying. No matter, our recent violent history was but a splash in the chaotic sea outside.
Gently, I prepared the Beretta M9 still holstered on my waist. Seeing as how I was going down; I may as well take command from the ground. There was not a moment to waste, and it wasn't like I couldn't improvise with just the WMT.
The doors opened and we both walked out. I made to pull the gun…
And immediately had to will myself to not drop it due to the sudden burning sensation.
It would seem as if the painkillers had worn off. I looked down and sure enough my hand still looked pretty swollen as well.
I breathed, recollected myself, and looked ahead towards the end of the hall.
Halfway there, stood the man I'd bruised. His face was somewhat calm and collected, but his tense shoulders and angled body betrayed the underlying anxiety and tension from looking at me.
I raised the gun, cocking it.
"…."
"…."
A whirl in the air. A hand lashed out to try and catch the flying object mid-air. The man looked to see the handgun now in his palm. Glancing back, there was now a bewildered look plastered on his face.
"Get out there and do your duty, soldier," I glowered. "Don't stop until every last one is dead."
My voice carried across and when it reached the militant, he snapped to attention and saluted.
"By your orders, commander."
Stuffing the gun in his trousers, he took off running. I followed at a more sedated pace.
Even from underneath the protection of the ConYard's roof, I weary of the impacts across the hull. Personnel were running to and fro looking to busy themselves with their own duties. Occasionally, sparks would burst from the roof, and the small streaks of light would make their way to the bottom to sting someone or land harmlessly on either cloth or steel.
I made my way to the end of the gantry that faced the outside. The scenery before me wasn't pretty.
The vehicles were mostly wrecked, mainly all the technicals and bikes now resembled pin cushions. Further in the distance, I could see the Bradley's firing their main armaments into the sky in what looked to be a hasty attempt at fighting off the fliers.
Illumination came in the from off either the bursts from the IFV's or the crimson glow of the laser fences.
Speaking of…
"EVA, how long will the fences last?"
"Currently, they are expected to remain online until 0700 hours."
"I don't see any movement beyond them. Are we dealing with only flyers now?"
"Negative, visual instruments have confirmed a large Grimm force inbound from the east."
'So those beasts have caught up with us.'
It wasn't hard to figure out which direction they'd come from. No, what concerned me was what exactly was coming after us.
"Cue the production of as many AA turrets as you can. Deploy as you see fit."
"Understood, building in progress."
I then switched channels. "Sergiu, you there?"
"Loud and clear, commander."
"Where are you?"
"We're in the Bradleys," a moan sounded in the background. "We have wounded on board and can barely fend for ourselves."
"Move to the ConYard, now."
"But commander, the wounded."
"You won't save them if you don't move. Now hurry!"
Around that time, the anti-aircraft began sprouting from the ground around the ConYard. Unlike the missile batteries used in the First War, these resembled the point defence turrets mounted on modern naval ships and consisted of a single gatling gun with the ammo pod above with a single targeting lase in between the two. For obvious reasons, they had dual function as both antiair and anti-personnel.
Almost as soon as they appeared, the guns whirled to life and let loose a brilliant trail into the night sky. What were once low howls became shrieks as the turrets made short work of the flying Grimm. Two minutes of constant barrage, and there were a number of audible booms sounding as the hostile lifeforms began crashing down to the earth.
"…Sir." Came the compliance from the radio.
Over the other end of the motor pool, I watched as a number of shapes began to move. Minutes later, the first of the armed transport arrived; their forms scarred and, in some places, pricked with abnormally large pinions.
What I saw next made me grimace.
The first transport didn't hesitate to roll up the gantry and into its depths followed by others. Only when they reached the dead end that was the wall of the building did they stop and drop the rear hatch.
Men rushed out screaming the likes of 'Medic! Medic!' along with the audible anguish of the pained and dying. However, these figures were quickly brushed away in my mind as I looked towards one man.
Sergiu came down, sporting a nasty wound over his left arm. Sweat and blood stained his uniform, and his heavy breathing was apparent. He looked around, lost and clearly shaken.
Nearing him, I demanded. "Report, what happened."
His eyes snapped to me. "Grimm fliers sir. Nevermores came screaming out of the black. We were caught off guard."
"I thought I told you to get the men in shape and defences pulled up."
"We did! But the attack came too sudden and those on duty just couldn't warn us all in time!"
My fists shook despite the pain it caused me. Inhaling, I continued.
"How many are still able?"
"… I don't know. Just about most of us got grazed whilst running to the vehicles," the militant swallowed. "I don't think you're gonna find many healthy men, sir."
I slowly nodded at every word said. Looking behind him, I immediately regretted it seeing the state of those onboard. The first thing coming to mind was that many weren't properly bandaged and their collective blood practically flooded the floor.
My sight drifted down as I thought long and hard to our current predicament.
Caught unprepared and trapped, with a crippled force strength to boot. The option was clear. There are men that were going to die tonight. However, that didn't sound as bad without implication. No, these men knew that death was always hanging above them.
It was the fact that they were being sent to an unworthy death that would aggrieve them. Humans can be taught to accept death, but dying pointlessly was another story.
No, death wasn't the problem here. It was me.
I needed to be removed.
Inhale, count to five, exhale. Repeat.
One…. Two….
"Gather as many as you can," I looked at the militant squad leader once more. "I'll have more men and wheels being made."
I didn't wait for Sergiu to respond before turning to walk away. My destination was outside. A quick look at the emplacements told me that the skies and surrounding area were clear for now. Many a man were now emerging from the wreckage and other Bradleys that couldn't fit into the ConYard to seek medical aid.
As I walked, I began issuing production queues fluidly through the WMT. Infantry, vehicle crews and even extra medical and technicians were all being requisitioned through the Hand. The VAF wasn't idle either as we still needed replacements for just about the entire light vehicle fleet. I counted my blessings as well when a basic skim through the damage assessment tab revealed that none of the three buildings present in the base were damage beyond superficial levels.
However, it soon occurred to me that I'd been walking with little destination in mind, and through my own frustrating realisation; there was an equally disturbing fact manifesting.
Walking between each and every vehicle, I would find no less than two corpses.
Behind me, were three men who tried to rush away on bikes but failed.
At my flanks were two technicals, neither of which had been able to flee. The bodies of the crew had been pinned down on the hull by enormous pinions; the victims locked in a state of panic and rage.
More and more such scenes filled my vision as I went between the aftermath in pursuit of the object of my search.
I started to feel lightheaded.
Eventually, I found at least one of the technicals had survived the carnage. I made to run towards it. Until…
"Oh…,"
A low sound in the air. With the dark still surrounding me, it was hard to make out just where it had come from. The furious beating of my heart was the only other partner aside from the noise.
"Oh…,"
The sound repeated, but now I could distinctly make it out to be a whimper. Focusing on the ground surrounding me, I eventually found the source.
It was a lone man. Lying face first on the ground with a pinion impaled through his back.
I wasted no time in rushing towards him. Kneeling, I took a look at his wound and immediately my heart sank. With movement bordering on clumsy, I lifted the edge of his poncho to inspect the wound.
A solid hit to his lower back, and worse, he'd been bleeding for some time too. A look at his face and sure enough the light was fading. Alas, it wasn't fast enough.
Rationality put aside; I pulled out the pinion trapping him on the ground -earning a low, wet moan- before carefully flipping him over. Half-expecting him to be incognizant, I blinked when his eyes met mine. A clear. intensity behind them.
"Sir…," he spoke, low but clearly defiant.
"Yes," I responded.
"They got me good…, didn't they?"
"Nothing can be done, just… keep calm, okay?"
"With respect, sir," he choked before continuing. "That's a shit way to comfort."
I pressed my lips.
"But… even so," he clicked his tongue. "Thanks…. And sorry f-for not being the best I could be."
He coughed, hard. What spilled forth from his mouth was not flehm but crimson.
"I-I'm s-s-sorry. I'm s-sorry. I'm… I'm."
I shushed him. Moving out of instinct, I immediately wrapped around him, and held him tight.
"You were better than I could've asked for. Priceless. And I pray that more like you could come to carry your will."
"… agan."
"…Pardon?"
"Can I?" he asked, voice sounding like a whisper. "Can I… try again, please?"
His hand reached to clasp the back of mind. I did the same in return with my other hand.
"You have my word," I spoke brief, concise, and with a nod.
Whether he knew or not, I never knew as with a final sound -crossed between a groan and whimper- the dying man went limp in my arms. His eyes rolled back.
I felt… hurt. Stained. The ground below me felt warm and I looked down to stare at the hole in the man's lower body, barely visible underneath the low light.
With his grip going slack, I freed one hand and reached down into the wound. A part of me that felt sick made me hesitate to touch it. Yet, steeling myself, I swiped my hand over it, feeling the warm liquid smothered over my hand.
Bringing said hand up, I observed the dark stain now present on my palm and fingers feeling the morbid fascination for them.
'Was this, a living death?' I asked internally. Not knowing how else to manifest my question.
My ears perked at the sound of crunching. I looked up to see none other than the man whom I'd bruised and given my handgun to earlier this night. He now wore a full getup and had a cloak wrapped around his form and an AK47 in his hands. His head was on a swivel before settling to look at me.
Me who happened to still be on the ground holding the dead man.
'Need to cover myself!'
Working on synapses, I began undoing the fallen militant's poncho. The fabric was turned into a makeshift shroud for the man before I dragged him to the side away from the likelihood of being runover by a vehicle. I made to stand before I remembered just what the dying militant wanted.
'To try again,' he said. Was that even possible? Perhaps….
No, there was no time to ask or search for a possible solution. However, what I could do for now was fish out his identity, which was a simple matter given the standard dog tags on his person. Shoving it into a pocket, I stood up and continued to my actual intention.
Opening the door and a quick glance at the interior proved that the vehicle was mostly unscathed. Startup was simple since my WMT had the added function of producing the blade of a key as I required it.
"What are you doing?" someone asked.
I glanced up and saw the other militant from earlier now standing outside the driver's door. We stared at each other a bit before I resumed starting up the vehicle.
With a growl, the engine came to life. A gentle press on the accelerator and I watched the needle on the tachometer rise. I ended smiling despite everything else happening.
Nostalgia has a hell of a timing.
"Hey!"
I was interrupted by banging to my right. I looked and saw the irritated face of the militant.
"What do you want?"
He blinked. "Me? The hell is wrong with you? Where do you think you're going in this?"
… Right I didn't think too much on that.
I took a glance at my WMT. Sure enough, the production queue was still ongoing, and painfully slow at that. Then again, it made sense given that these buildings worked strictly off the power provided by the ConYard.
Which, now that I think of it, was a pretty bad flaw as far as mockery buildings go.
Still, I found an excuse forming in my head and turned to look at the man still waiting.
"I'm taking some men to try and run a diversion." I answered.
"… You're crazy." He muttered after a brief pause.
I stiffened. Reaching out with a fast limb, I grabbed him by the neck of his cloak and pulled him right into the door and pressing him to its surface.
"Listen," I hissed. "I've got more than a hundred armed men still alive in that oversized bug in front of us. More than half of which could join our friend on the ground over there at any given moment. I don't care if you think of me as a cunt or a looney, but if you're feeling ballsy just say it and I'll THROW YER RIGHT INTO HORDE MYSELF!"
"Bu-"
"SAVE IT FOR SOMEONE WHO FUCKING CARES! MAYBE YOUR DAMN MESSIAH MAY SAVE YOU IF YOU PRAY HARD ENOUGH!"
Throwing him away, I pressed the gas pedal and got into gear before shooting off. Stopping not for hare nor dare until eventually I found myself in front of the ConYard.
Tents were erected. Their presence was a serious concern given the earlier attack, but seeing the number of men being attended to from behind the windshield alone made me reconsider trying to rebuke the medical crew.
I stepped out of the four-wheeler. Turning my head to the wind, I put all my focus into hearing.
Sure enough, there was howling. Not a moment later, a loud screech filled the air, eliciting surprised gasps and screams from those present.
All heads turned to face the other end of the base where the Hand was. The black figure could barely be seen through the dark, but was concerning was the bony plates protruding from its body and the fact that it was inside the perimeter.
The thing was steaming from where the laser fences had dissected the creature into pieces. Behind the energy fences, more and more of the dead creature's kin began to gather.
And they were in the midst of encircling.
They came. They crawled. They ran. They jumped. They howled. They barked. They screeched.
It looked as if the dark had come to life on its own. Alive but with the soul intent of extinguishing other life. Humans in particular.
And they were eager.
"Oh man," someone said.
Those standing or at least able to do so began staring in blatant horror as more and more red eyes began piercing the dark beyond the fence. A few counted muttered prayers of gratitude that the barrier once thought to imprison them now serves their aegis.
Growls, howls and chitters rumbled from the blanket of night. No less than half a dozen sizzling, and yelps filled the air in a short period as the Grimm tested the perimeter of the base.
"We're so fucked," someone blurted out.
Another got on their knees and began praying. Many more soon joined him.
"….. and in the days to come, the dark shall consume us. But in His vision, a future of prosperity shall emerge. Thus, we pray for the strength of arms and will…"
Between the kneeling figures, a lone individual shifted through the crowds and walked to the fence, passing the Hand as they did so. They walked until they stood mere meters from the energy barrier protecting them from the outside.
Their presence didn't go unnoticed. A dozen arms tried to snake their past the gaps in the light. Sounds double that number and intensity followed said limbs; some in frenzy, others in pain. Most clawed and scythed the ground in front of the individual, far too wary of the damage the crimson light could do.
In response, the individual only stared back at the monsters outside…. And sneezed.
Shaking their head, they muttered a low curse over the dust kicked up by the limbs before turning heel. Their new destination was in front of the Hand, and the men coming out of it.
The newly made homunculi sported mostly overalls and medical garments. Their gaze casted to the creatures beyond the barrier and then to the figure in front of them.
Orders were given by the individual without a sound of discomfort.
'Restore any vehicle they can find still salvageable.'
'Aid those already present in tending to the injured whilst preparing for new arrivals.'
With a hand to point them in the right direction and a sharp 'Go!', the assembled men ran off. The figure turned down to look at the device wrapped around his left arm and noted the production queue on display before nodding silently and turning to walk back to the tents.
There were men assembled now. Many sporting some form of injury or another that had been treated. Their bandages contrasting their dark uniforms.
Darks eyes regarded each and every one of the men present. Noted the fear in the eyes of the men. Noted how they clutched their weapons tightly.
"You all see what's awaiting us out there," he spoke, tone level but with a hint agitation. "I'm asking you this. How many of you want to live? A raise of hands."
All raised, slowly. The figure nodded once more.
"Then stay here," he said firmly. "Stay and keep close to one another. Maybe you'll live a little longer if you work together."
Those assembled blinked before turning to regard one another. Eventually, one of them spoke up.
"What are you doing then, sir?"
"I'm heading out. I'm taking the fight to them."
This earned a reaction. The men assembled stirred and rumbled at the words spoken.
All except the questioner.
"You out of your mind, kid?!" he exclaimed. "Do you see what's out there! Those things are gonna turn you to shreds the moment you take a step out!"
"There's still one technical that works. I'll have more than-"
"That's not fighting. That's running!" someone shouted.
"Bastard is just trying to save himself!" another roared.
The rest of the crowd joined. They marched on the individual, disregarding the fact that they couldn't harm him even if they wanted to so long as they could see his face.
Mid-pace, they stopped, a hundred beastly roars filled the air. The crowd suddenly being reminded that they weren't alone this night. Some backpedalled as the horde outside began howling.
While others held a look of mixed fear and apprehension, the individual instead still kept their back turned to the sounds. They regarded the noises for a brief moment, before turning to face the crowd; face morphed into an intense mug.
"I stand here, with only my body and tool, and a vehicle I sported claim to only recently," he jabbed a finger at them. "On the other hand, you lot, armed and reasonably trained, are the ones cowering in fear and picking on the easiest target for your insecurity."
The individual paused to breath. "I won't ask of you. I'm ordering you. Stand. Stand and fight!"
"The time has come once more warriors of Nod!" A hand waved over them. "You who stood against the might of one world! It is your time again to stand firm! To die standing!
His soldiers should never buckle or scream in impunity against the world.
His soldiers cry havoc!
HIS SOLDIERS MUST RAGE!"
The extended hand pulled back and became a fist.
"It's not enough to live! Fight! Strive! Die! That is my order! That is what YOU will be doing under me!"
Inhale. Release. "I'm going out to cause a diversion. It'll give the Hand more time to produce fresh Brothers to aid us."
With that, the individual marched through the crowd. They didn't even need to force themselves through as the crowd parted like a sea.
Making their way past the triage tents, they barely noticed the multitude of gazes looking their way as they passed. Many of which had mixed awe and bewilderment. The individual ignored or didn't notice these gazes as they broke through and into the clearing on the other side.
There, they stood. The semi-truck they'd procured earlier in front of them.
Along with a man standing on the back and inspecting the gun.
"What the hell are you doing?" they asked.
"You drove off with an empty Ma Deuce, sir," the man answered. "Figured I may as well do a quick check since I'm loading it."
With a click, the charging handle was locked in position. The man looked through the gun's sights, rotating the weapon on its mount before briefly turning the weapon to face the individual.
Despite having a barrel pointed at him, the individual remained unfazed. Instead, they took one step forward, then another, and eventually walked to the door of the driver's side. The man on the gun continued following with his aim until he no longer could, then settled with returning the gun to a forward position.
The two then enjoyed the silence that followed, save for the occasional growls and howls of the night creatures. A brief moment later, the engine ignited with a rumble, and the individual leaned back into his seat, eyes closed for a brief moment, a drawn-out breath escaping him.
"…. You can get off now, if you're done."
"With respect sir, I can't do that."
"Why?"
"Who's going to man the gun?"
"You know that this could be a one-way trip, right?"
"Yeah, and wouldn't staying here be the same thing but longer? Also, that would be against my orders. Wouldn't it, commander?"
The individual turned to look behind, they noted how the man was kneeling in order to see them through the glass slide. Gone was any trepidation. In its place, was a rather… simple look to him.
"…. What's your name, soldier?"
The man pondered before replying, "Nod militant number-"
"I said your name, not that numbers crap."
The man blinked, a certain glint in his eyes.
"Stana, my commander. My name is Stana."
"Stana," they repeated. "Well, Stana, I know it's not much, but I'll say this. I hope those balls of yours don't slow us down. We're going to need every bit of speed for what I have in mind."
The militant barked. "Be at ease, sir. I happen to be a master at the art of balance."
"I'll hold you to that until I could place an order for a strong brew."
"Ha! Just you watch, sir! I'll show you and these black freaks what a real warrior can do!"
With that, he stood and walked back to the gun. Taking his place, he bellowed.
"Gunner! Ready and waiting!"
What is the fear of death?
A calling? A reason? Just a approximation or outlook of what we call the end?
For me, it was just common sense.
Common sense to look at the possibility of a finish, and say, 'to hells with!'
Which is impressive avidity for what I'm about to do. Or maybe it is irrational glee?
I'd driven to the edge of the base that had the least amount of Grimm. EVA was handy that way. However, 'least amount' still meant a shit ton of eyes looking at us.
They growled just as much the engine of our vehicle rumbled. The white plates of protruding calcium sticking out underneath the illumination of our vehicle headlights.
My heart felt like piston as I shuffled uneasily in my seat.
"Stana, you think you can clear us a way?" I asked my gunner and newly made companion through the comm.
"… I can try, but no guarantees," he said, the uneasiness palpable in his voice.
I breathed as I thought of a way out of our immediate predicament. Until movement at the flanks caught my eye.
There, two men walked past our vehicle. As they reached the front, they turned, revealing the rifles in their hands held in front of their cloaked forms.
Rifles with flamethrower attachments.
A wave of pressure descended on me. I looked to my sides, and sure enough. More figures had appeared. Some with similar weaponry, others less visible, but I knew they had the same model of AK because it was I who had requisitioned them.
The new arrivals surrounded the vehicle from all sides. Looking through the rear-view mirror, I could see my gunner begin to shuffle on his station; a hand reached down to the pistol still held in-between his trousers.
THUMP!
My head swerved to see what had hit us. The first thing I noticed was the bearded man and the weapon pressed against the door; the butt end up to the trigger being visible above the doorline.
We stared at each other. Despite how irrational it was given the current circumstance. In the end, one broke the silence.
"You going to take the gun or not?" Sergiu asked.
"…," hesitantly, I reached out and took the rifle in. Barrel raised and pointed to the roof, I made to inspect the weapon. From the furthest corners of my mind, I recalled how to check the safety, pull the magazine and set the charging handle; in what must've been my most retarded moment yet in this world.
Once done, I placed in the seat next to me. I turned to look and sure enough, Sergiu's less than neutral face was staring at me.
"Took your time."
"Can you blame me? This isn't the time to be handing napalm to kids."
"But you're not a boy; you're the commander. And we need orders."
Orders.
Something filled the place between breasts. I looked in front, then to the opposite end of Sergiu, and finally behind through the rear-view mirror and sure enough…
Through the dark, I saw something else. Glints: small, luminant stars that were in pairs and levelled.
Stars that shone in radiance.
Radiance that was pointed. Expectant.
A breath escaped. It felt… shaken.
"Sir? You there? We don't have all night you know?"
I turned to look at the man standing outside to my right. I took note of his features. Noticed how calm he was now.
Deep down, I absorbed as much of that look as possible into my own being.
"…Make a way for us." I began after some thought. "Gather any you can and bring those Bradley's to bear on the east side, by the Hand. I'll have EVA shut off the upper half of the fence to give you room to fire. Should you see a chance, advance out of the base and destroy every last one of the beasts."
One firm nod was all I got in response. Sergiu then turned and began barking orders to those around him. There was activity and men running to and fro.
Two more men with modified AK's ran to the front. Together, the four men brandished their armaments and let loose a stream of fire towards the beasts outside, past the crimson bars. The tongues of heat had an immediate reaction on the bunched-up monsters. Those closest were afflicted with a painful death, while others scurried back from the flames.
Seeing this, I brought a hand to my earpiece and sent orders to EVA. A second later, and the two topmost bars from the fence deactivated. My gunner took initiative and began firing; first in long, sweeping bursts and then in short, sporadic ones.
The sound of brass casings clinking on the flatbed behind me was like a countdown. As I awaited the moment to floor the pedal, a series of thumps on my right once more interrupted my focus.
"Hey, wait for us." another accented voice sounded on the comms.
Blinking, I was about to question until I noticed bright lights behind me. Looking through the rear-view again, a rather serendipitous sight awaited me.
'There were other functioning ones?' I questioned in my mind upon seeing the other semi-trucks gathering behind mine.
Bringing a hand to my ear, I asked, "Identify yourselves."
"Sir, Squads 33 and 26 at your command," the voice replied. We've got 50 cals and flamethrowers at your disposal. Ready to bring the wrath of Nod on your enemies, sir."
"Your numbers are mixed up. Are you reformed units?"
"Pretty much, yeah. But make no mistake, we're not in the mood die laying like dogs," the voice growled. "Let's teach these ugly mutts what a true force of power can do!"
I fought back a curve at the corner of my lips.
"Then, follow me and stick close."
I received a couple of 'sirs' just before Sergiu intruded through the comm.
"Commander, we're ready to begin on your mark. I'd make it quick, looks like the beasts are on to us."
I snarled. "Roger, standby."
Switching to a more general frequency, I gave my next instructions.
"Commander to all units and EVA, be ready to break the encirclement. Let's break them, Brothers!"
"Yeah!"
"Let's kill them!"
"We'll make them suffer!"
"EVA, kill the two more of the upper bars, now! All units, suppressive fire!"
Two more cross horizontal bars dropped. The erupted into a cacophony of noise ranging from loud drums to drawn out roars. Heat washed over the front of the semi-truck, accompanied by a bright, orange light that left me blinded.
It was by far the most brilliant spectacle I've gotten seen up close and personnel.
Eventually, it all died down and my senses quickly recovered from the brief overload. In its place, there was the loud crackling of flames accompanied by the agonised screams of perhaps dozens of things that had been caught by the inferno that now filled the space beyond the laser fences.
"This is our chance!"
"Go! Go!"
"EVA, kill the fence! Everyone, move on me!"
Acting without thought, I floored the pedal and watched as the meter swung clockwise. The men that were standing in front of us parted quickly to the side.
The vehicle lurched forward, and I found myself thrown in my seat. I barely registered the moment we passed the fence and into the open, torched ground beyond.
Everything else after felt like an entirely different person behind the wheel.
Stana cursed underneath his breath as the vehicle slid hard to the left. All but swinging his chest, he brought the gun to bear facing the base.
Every fibre of his being told him that this was a one-way ticket back to oblivion. However, the thought didn't make him shrink. Nor did he felt disgruntled by it.
It just made him eager.
Maybe it was just the almost non-stop fighting going on all week.
Maybe it was just the strange, upsetting feeling he had after found out the truth behind the beatdown earlier in the day.
Or maybe, it was just because he finally saw the familiar look in his superior's eyes.
It reminded him of someone else.
The truck bounced. They'd hit something. He looked to the rear and sure enough, there was something rolling on the ground. The two vehicles behind his were quick enough to evade. Interestingly enough, he noted there was another trio of technicals following behind theirs. He barely caught the briefest glimpse of the laser fence flashing back to life as the second group past.
"We're out in the open, don't be fooled by the clearing!" their leader's voice sounded through the comm.
The truck came to a sudden swerve and halt. They were a good distance away from the base. The tallest tower that being the ConYard looked to be around half-the size of his thumb. He could hear the escorts do the same and maintain position behind the lead vehicle.
Adjusting himself, the gun was swung to face eleven o'clock. Stana squinted through the dark, trying his hardest to see just where the monsters were.
There was no doubt, the monsters were swarming the entire perimeter. White plates reflected the red of the laser fence almost uniform like the back of a reptile. It was imposing to say the least. A number reaching couple of dozen, perhaps four or five? He couldn't tell, and it definitely wasn't his problem.
Big flashes and thunder erupted overhead past the beasts. The Bradleys Sergiu was bossing were doing their part to stem the tide, but more importantly draw attention.
"Shit, just look how many are there."
"Probably a good hundred."
"The fuck we gonna do against that?!"
"Shut up! And stay focussed!"
No time for second guesses, damn it! They needed to focus. Hopefully, the brat had something up his sleeve.
"Sergiu, you see any big ones?" the boy's voice sounded through the earpiece.
"Need to be a bit more specific, sir!" replied the squad leader, voice audibly strained.
"Any one of them that isn't joining that damn frenzy!"
"… No, no, I don't see it!"
He barely heard the 'goddamn' and he was fairly sure that was coming from the cabin and not the earpiece.
"Everyone, eyes out," the leader spoke. "We're looking for any Grimm that aren't joining the fray. It has to be further away from the base."
Dawn was no where in sight, but the change in the air was there. Even with all the carnage, the sensation was unmistakable for one such as he. Spending the better part of one's life living in the woods due to homelessness has that sort of effect.
The faintest of blue. A colour not of dawn, but twilight dominated the air. Ah, the familiar sensation.
'No,' he shook his head. 'Not the time for reminiscence.'
"Commander, ConYard Control," a female voice sounded through the earpiece.
"Go ahead, Control,"
"I have something further to the east. Drones are showing what looks like a small pack, but its holding position."
"Roger. Anyone got eyes on it?"
Numerous gazes turned away from the besieged base and to the right side.
"…. Can't see shit," someone else replied over the comm.
"True that," their leader agreed. "Control, we need you to guide us to the target. Relay the directions through EVA."
"Commander, we're advising against that. That pack is close in proximity to the horde. You won't cross the distance undetected."
"Then, what options do we have? Are any of our artillery units available?"
They had artillery? When did that become a thing?
There was a long silence. One that was unwelcomed as the crews watched the ongoing carnage near the base. The Bradleys had stopped relentlessly expending ordinance downrange and were now taking turns and performing switches amongst themselves. Long licks of flame could still be seen erratically once every other moment or so.
"Confirmed, commander," the operator suddenly replied. "Unit 001 has just returned to active status. They're moving into position."
"… Who're the crew?" the leader asked, sounding strangely wary for some reason.
"That would be the First Artillery Batch under 1930-Frank."
"Alright then. We'll hold position until the artillery is set." He replied, sounding almost distant.
Stana took two deep long breaths. The air filling his lungs did nothing to calm him. Rather, it served only to jolt his bones. Not an unwelcome sensation at the moment.
Cram!
Heads snapped toward the noises. Much to their awe and horror, the sound was coming from the fences.
Not even a split second after, chaos filled the comms.
"Their tearing the fence! Their tearing straight through the fence!"
"Don't piss yourself! Start firing!"
What was once cyclic, returned to full blast as the base defenders began unleashing fire and lead into the living dark. The crimson lines that once permeated some semblance of safety were now beginning to buckle under near invisible force.
"Alert, our base is under attack. Base perimeter security failing."
'No kidding,' he thought.
"Control, status on that artillery!"
"They're deployed and preparing to fire- wait…"
Oh, no…
"Dammit!"
"Speak to me, Val!"
"Pack is on the move! They're escaping the artillery's target zone!"
He could hear the loud, exaggerated breathing through the comm.
"Which way they're headed?"
"… They're current path will lead them straight to you, sir."
….
The sentence was not lost on him. He knew even before it would be said of what must be done now. The commander's next words confirmed as much.
"Copy, moving to engage. Have Artillery One focus on the hostiles breaching the base," he stated. "Sergiu, use any means necessary to force the enemy back. I'm giving you temporal command until otherwise."
With that, the vehicle surged forward without so much as a warning. Using the stand, Sergiu braced and righted himself quickly. Sparing a glance behind, he saw the other five technicals quickly catching up.
"Every technical behind me, be ready to split on my mark. Fire as soon as you can."
There was no reply, but he doubted the commander was worried.
Afterall, they could already begin to make out the distinct bone plates in front of them. Even more noticeably, were the eyes of the beasts that reflected off of the illumination of the headlights.
"Split!"
That was all the warning the gunner had before the semitruck swerved to the left. Working with the momentum, Stana depressed the trigger of the machine gun as the truck sped by with an arm's-length to spare by two others. A nice, long burst swept across the dark mass in front of them. Even with the loud thumps of the weapon filling his ears, he managed to catch the roars of rage and frustration along with the faintest smell of something most foul.
Stana tracked the beasts, his sight never leaving the horde. Only, when the unthinkable happened that he released the butterfly trigger.
He watched as a wolf-beast at the rearmost of the pack suddenly jumped and managed to land on the hood of the last vehicle in the formation, causing one of the militants on the flatbed to fall overboard in the process. Much to the horror of the remaining crew, said beast began clawing the driver's cabin and ignored the gunner and his other companion as they began firing point blank into the monster.
The two technicals closest to the carnage added their own desperate fury into driving away the creature. Alas, it was to no avail as the creature broke through in three swipes. It followed up by pulling the driver from his seat and began gorging into him.
"AHH- AHHHH- OH GOD! HELP-"
Agonised cries from the driver were cut off in mere moments as without a master, the technical swerved and crashed, unable to balance itself with the immense weight of the wolf on the front. Those who were on the back got thrown off into the sand….
…. And became perfect prey for the rest of the pack that had pirouetted and caught up.
"Unit lost."
Sucking in his gut, Stana did his best to ignore the horror unfolding over the comms.
"You monsters!" someone roared!
With a loud screech, the two remaining technicals of the second group executed a U-turn and began heading in the direction of their fallen brothers.
"What's going on back there, Sergiu!" the leader replied.
"We lost one! Crew is being eaten alive!"
He heard a curse before the conversation shifted.
"Control, do you have eyes on the pack?"
There was an unnecessary pause before the operator spoke. "Confirmed sir. Their holding position as of now."
"Okay, have Artillery One fire now!"
What!
He turned his head behind to glare at the cabin.
"Sir, the men-"
"I'll handle them. Do as I say and get Artillery One to fire now! Notify me when they start shelling!"
Below, the floor began to turn once more as the technical executed its own U-turn. The escorts behind following suit as they made chase for the group further ahead.
"All units, engage the enemy. Pull back when I give the order!"
Whether or not the two vehicles and their occupants heard the words of their leader was left unanswered. Brilliant flashes and bursts of flame were the only indicator that the monsters had noticed the pair. A moment later, one of the vehicles was flipped over from the front. The second vehicle made to escape but was literally held in place by a massive claw before meeting a similar fate when it was bowled over from the side.
Widening his stance, Stana adjusted so that he had a comfortable pose to look through the iron sight. He pondered on turning the knob and switching to single fire, but deciding against it as he should have at least half of the ammo box to burn through still.
The two remaining escorts took their own initiative to evade-and-engage the monsters. Whilst the beasts were preoccupied in gorging on their latest kills, the two vehicles sped past whilst spewing fire at them. The now flaming hides were perfect illuminated and Stana wasted no time in opening fire. The other vehicles joined in suppressing the beasts.
"Artillery One, firing for effect!" the voice called.
"All units suppress!" the leader ordered. "Don't let them scatter!"
The world in front narrowed until it only consisted of his sight, the irons, along with the flash of the barrel. Occasionally, he'd see blooming orange, the black mass that was his target or a pair of red lights in the dark. Despite this, the militant never wavered. Rather, he fell back and trusted his instincts to guide his shots.
A sharp whistling screech was his only warning before the earth erupted and a violent wind blew. He had to stop firing and brace himself to not fall off. A hand reached up to pull his cloak close to him when he felt granules of sand bombard his face. Soon after that, it dawned upon him that there was a ringing in his ears.
"…. -se fire! Cease fire!"
Fighting through the high-pitched sounds assaulting him, he straightened the gun and prepared for a possible threat. He noted that the technical had stopped moving during the barrage.
Dust clouds made an already low visibility situation worse. However, as his sense of hearing returned, the first thing he noted was a lack of bestial roars. That, and there was also a lack of crimson eyes staring murder at him.
"Commander, confirm the targets' elimination, over?"
"Standby," the leader replied. "Stana, anything?"
"No," the gunner replied curtly. "I don't see anything."
"All vehicles, report."
There were series of noes across the comms. Stana pondered for a moment, before deciding to trust his gut instinct and relax.
Eventually, the dust settled, revealing all that remained of the pack was a series of craters and scattered bone plates. A breath escaped the militant's lips at the sight.
"Control, we got them!" the leader cheered.
"Great work, commander, but don't rest yet. We're getting reports that the Grimm are breaking off from the main assault. Suggest joining up with the base defence forces and routing the remainder."
"Confirmed."
'Here we go again,' thought the militant. Sparing a quick check of the ammo box, he noted that it was practically empty. He rectified this by changing the box with one of the spares secured on the floor of the flatbed behind the driver's cabin.
"You ready to go back there, Stana!" his leader called.
"Give me a sec," he grunted. This night's stress was starting to get to him already. Alas, sleep will have to wait for now.
A minute later, and he was ready. The charging handle was pulled. The knob turned, setting the gun to full auto.
"GO!" he cried.
His leader didn't waste a moment in shooting off. The rest of their escorts following suit. Stana's mind went into autopilot from there. Absentmindedly hearing the chatter on the comms.
With the intensity of the horde weakening along with fresh troops from the Hand, they were beginning to turn the tide. The rest of the artillery guns were manned and in the midst of shelling what remained of the Grimm. The technicals began splitting up around this time. Breaking apart into two groups that began making short work of strays and splinter groups whether it be with guns or the simpler act of running them over.
Soon, more technicals and even attack bikes began sallying out. The latter proved integral for facing the larger Grimm that didn't die fast enough with bullets alone. The horde eventually was reduced to mere bunched up pockets. Sergiu would take initiative to sally out with the Bradley's at that moment. Infantry following up behind the IFV's and made use of both flamethrower and grenade launchers to immense effect.
To say this whole process was cathartic was stretching it. It was more downright tedious after a certain point.
Hours actually must've passed by, because he began noticing there was a brightness growing above him. Looking up, he noted the twilight ambiance. He took a guess and looked in a certain direction. Sure enough, he could see the dawn approaching.
The technical suddenly stopped as they approached the top of an incline. A moment later, the engine died and there was the sound of a door opening and then closing. He looked down to see his superior walking out, stretching his back and letting out a quiet mewl. He then proceeded to stand there whilst staring in the direction of the light.
Stana looked, his awareness returning to the surface for the first time in a while. It also brought along with it a question.
"What are you doing?" he blurted.
The question left his mouth before he could process it. By then, his leader turned to address him. Light was slowly creeping up one side of his face whilst the other seemed to grow darker.
Yet, he could still the strange smile.
"I…. like this," he answered.
…. What?
"Sir?"
"Hm?"
"I don't understand what you mean."
He had to prod; the vagueness of the reply weighed his head to one side. In response, the smile seemed to grow on the brighter half.
"… I guess you could say this is some kind of afterglow," his superior clarified. "I might not be processing things right, so don't mind me."
Stana hummed. Although he wasn't satisfied, he assumed that was about as close to the answer as he would get.
The two then continued to stare at the brightening horizon. It was a moment that felt out of place to him, but thinking about it more, that felt unpleasantness may perhaps be the combat adrenaline talking than him. Hence, he opted to continue to enjoy the lull for the time being.
It was this lull that got him to ask a very important question.
"Commander. Can I ask you something?"
"Go ahead."
"What are you even going doing here?"
"Enjoying the peace after the battle of course," he rejoined. "You fell asleep on the back or something?"
"No," he shook his head. "I meant more on the lines of -well, what are you doing here, in this world?"
"Care to elaborate?" the man requested.
"I think it's obvious to everyone by now that you don't seem too cut-out for this job; leading Nod I mean."
"Oh? Does this have to with how you smashed my nose in just yesterday?" he prodded.
"Only because I didn't know it was you, sir."
"And that's something to be looked into," he switched topics. "Did seriously not recognised me? Considering more than half you lot back then were wasted, I assumed that it was just the bottle talking."
He shrugged. "If you must know, I rarely drink in public, sir. Besides, too many piss-faced donkeys loitering around at the time anyways."
"Nice to see some of you with common sense."
"Thank you very much sir," Stana expressed.
"You're welcome," his leader turned to fully face him, the light of day on his back made it a tad harder to discern his expression.
The sigh he heard however, wasn't. "And as for earlier question. Safe to say, that the answer I'll give won't be beneficial towards you. On the flip side, I can tell you this. Cometh night or fate, I assure you that so long as we have the means, I don't intend for our Brotherhood to be anything less than what we were before. We will make a change here, somehow."
"By change, you mean through Tiberium, sir?"
"No," he objected. "More than that. The crystal is indeed essential, but it is just a catalyst. A catalyst that requires proper care and instrumentation if you want to produce the right results."
Even obscured by the shadows, he could tell that the man was smiling. It then hit him.
If he replaced this man with a deep tan with another that had a much lighter complexion that lacked hair but had a goatee, then there was no doubting just what that smile entailed.
This wasn't just a man who was out of place. This was a man who wanted nothing to do with his current situation, but all the same will do anything to deliver the outcome he wanted. No matter the means.
And here he was at the forefront of this man's rise.
"…Stana? You okay there?"
He shook his head to clear the bizarre image. Looking at his commander, he could now make out the curious look mixed with mild concern.
"Come again, sir?" he asked.
"I was saying something but then you looked to have spaced out. Everything ok there?"
"Y-yeah," he stammered. "Just the light playing tricks. You were saying sir?"
The man didn't look convinced, but nonetheless repeated himself.
"As I said, you and your brothers have a place and duty. Your just as much an instrument into what is to come as I am the maestro. I need your help, Stana. You, and all the others. We can't afford to be caught in-fighting like before."
The leader took steps until he was right next to the technical and then raised his right hand to the militant. The act left him bewildered.
"Play your part, and I'll do mind. Deal?"
Blinking. Confused. He said the first thing that came to mind.
"You're a strange and very weird man, sir."
Still confused. Stana did the only thing that felt right and shook the man's hand. He reached down past the wrist and clamped his hand around the other's forearm.
"But, for now, you have my will for you to command and direct as you see fit."
"That's all I can ask for," spoke the leader with a sincere smile.
After that, they departed the rise and headed towards the base. Stana was quiet, and so was the commander. The former was certainly tired, and he assumed likewise with the latter.
Yet, a part of him kept thinking back to the -in his mind very heretical- image conjured earlier. It troubled him to think as so, despite deep down knowing all this time that it was just a constructed memory from a different man. A man whose identity he had inherited and proudly wore as a spiritual skin. Even after after the dialogue he had with his present leader, that notion still remained unchanged.
He thought a bit more, but in the end, he dropped the matter.
It wasn't in his place to think.
He was a follower of Kane and the Brotherhood. Always has been. Always will be.
But for now, he'll follow this man. This Jared if he remembered right.
For it was the only thing that made sense in this strange new life.
We entered the base through the same way the Bradleys had exited to join the fight in the night. Albeit I suppose that didn't matter given that the laser fence had finally lost power, leaving only the tall steel poles that once projected the perimeter.
The compound was a mess for lack of a better word.
New tents had been erected and there was a host of new personnel running about. Fresh militants were out on patrol or helping to salvage and recover equipment. Medicals applied healing arts to their charges, and the occasional technician could be seen making their way through the crowds with tools in hand.
With great care, I manoeuvred through the throngs of people and to the motor pool. It was apparent that we weren't the first to come through, and that made it easier for me get it done with.
After I parked and made sure the vehicle was secured in its place in the motor pool, I decided to head to the Hand of Nod to satiate my curiosity. Having seen the building on my way in earlier, I was reminded of what the dying militant had said to me before he passed on. If his words could be made true, then perhaps I have a new trick up my sleeve.
However, I wasn't expecting the number of eyes watching me as I slipped through the crowds. I knew that it was expected that subordinates pay respect if a leader was up close or passing by. What I didn't fully grasp was why everything went still as I walked across the space on my way to the aforementioned building.
There were dozens, no, hundreds of eyes on me. My head was on a swivel, and I did my best to keep it controlled even as I noticed Sergiu approaching me. The man had definitely seen better days as evident by the bandages he now wore.
"Commander," he greeted.
"Sergiu," I replied.
We stared at each other. The pounding of my heart threatened to make me quake. To resist, I made dialogue.
"Any reason for approaching me?"
"None too important. Just thought I'd give you this."
He raised a hand and I steeled myself for what was to come. In the corner of my vision, I only barely made out the tense form of Stana. His face set in a tight expression.
Alas, it proved unnecessary as Sergiu's hand came to a diagonal place across his chest. His posture straightened and, in his eyes, I could see a look that made me feel warm.
"What you did last night was nothing short of brazen, sir," the squad leader grunted. "That could've gone sideways, and we'd all be dead now."
"I did what I-"
"I'm not finished," he interrupted. "As I was going to say, don't do that kind of stunt often. We can't afford to lose you. Not here. Not ever."
I blinked. Finding myself at a loss for words, I looked around and much to my own amazement, I found that others had followed Sergiu's example. Even Stana, the man whom only yesterday I'd beaten brutally, was giving me a chest salute.
"You've got a lot to learn, sir," Sergiu continued. "We'll help what we can. Just give us the word."
"…."
I was at a loss for what to say. I continued regarding the men around me and the one in front of me. Uncertain on how to proceed, I opted for a simple, cordial reply.
"I'm honoured at you praise and concern. Let's make it right then. My brothers, we must reorganise and be ready to move."
"The times will not yield." I forewarned.
A/N: It's been a while. Kept you waiting, huh?
Not much to say, but I've had time as I was reading this chapter to reflect and build a new mindset for writing.
I'm not giving up. This is all part of my own experience.