Chapter 3: The Fight Is On
The Pelican dived and dodged as artillery fire exploded around it. 479er cursed as one shell nearly took out the cockpit, cracking the glass instead. "Why the hell did I listen to you idiots?!" She shouted at the two freelancers in the back.
Ark simply groaned in response, head held between his legs. "I'm asking myself the same question…" He croaked out, trying not to get sick.
Gripping the restraints tightly, York shouted to be heard above the noise. "I didn't know they were expecting us! I would've come up with a different plan otherwise!"
479er maneuvered the controls quickly, narrowly avoiding what would've been a quick end to their mission. She hit a lever, opening the bay doors of the Pelican, "It's too hot to get you two any further! Extraction will be here in thirty, don't be late because I won't be waiting around" She called to the back.
York and Ark stood up and stretched slightly, slipping into their jetpacks. "So what exactly did happen to Georgia?" Ark mused aloud, flicking the safety off his battle rifle.
"Dude trust me, you don't want to know." York replied mysteriously, gripping his dual SMG's and walking to stand at the back of the bay. Ark shook his head with a sigh and walked next to him.
"I really don't wanna do this…" He muttered, leaning over the edge to see how far above ground they were. I can't even see the fucking ground, Ark thought with fear. Badass space warrior that can slaughter aliens, but I'm scared of heights!
His inner rants were cut short as another shell exploded just to the left of the Pelican, shaking it and knocking both York and Arkansas out of the Pelican with a shout.
"Son of a bitch!" York cried, activating his jetpack and speeding towards the ground in a more controlled flight.
Ark struggled with the settings on his jetpack as he fell through a cloud, C'mon, work damn it! Finally, he flicked the right lever and shot forward through the air, passing York easily and heading at a diagonal angle towards the enemy encampment.
Activating his Comm, York hailed Ark. "What the hell are you doing?"
His only reply was static for a couple moments, before Ark's panicked voice could be heard faintly "I have no idea!" he cried.
York struggled not to laugh as he saw Arkansas crash through multiple trees's, before coming to rest on the forest floor with a crash. "I'll be there in a minute… sit tight buddy."
Groaning, Ark cut the connection as York started to laugh. Not my fault these things don't come with instructions. He sat up and shakily got to his feet, looking around for his battle rifle. Unable to find it, he sighed and switched to 'Zona's sniper rifle, which had miraculously not been damaged. Ark activated his suit diagnostics system, pleased to see that all he was suffering from was bruising and a possible concussion from the crash. He shut it off and activated his VISR, just as he heard gunshots start to go off in the distance. "Goddamn it, York…" He growled, before sprinting through the dense forest.
"Get on your knees, asshole!" a gruff male voice shouted at York, who simply raised his hands in surrender.
"Easy, easy, just give me a second…" He replied, going onto his knees while the man in black Orbital Drop Shock Trooper armor, probably an Insurrectionist, pointed a shotgun at his face. Around fifty other soldiers, dressed in the standard camo militia stood by with Assault Rifles loaded and aimed at York.
Ark snuck around through the foliage, inwardly groaning as his dark blue and purple armor would be like a giant marker as soon as he stepped out from the treeline. He gazed through the scope of the rifle, looking for a way he could eliminate enough to give York a fighting chance. If I shoot their leader with the shotgun, the rest spray with the rifle and its game over. But if I work on the militia first, the shotgun one will take out York easily... Ark groaned inwardly, trying to figure this out before they got bored and shot York for fun.
He saw the leader's head bob up and down, asking York a question. Whatever the tan freelancers response was, he sure didn't like it, ripping York's helmet off and smashing the butt of his shotgun into his face. Time seemed to slow down after that, as Ark looked at the grenades on the militia soldiers belts.
With a cold smirk under his helmet, Ark swung the barrel of the rifle to bear and squeezed the trigger. He didn't stop to watch the spray of blood from the leaders helmet as he rolled forward from behind cover, tossing two grenades to the left of the group and firing another round into one of the belted grenades. The detonations rocked the entire group, blowing many to smithereens as the rest stumbled around in confusion. "C'mon York, don't give up on me now!" Ark shouted over his shoulder, firing his last two shots in his clip into two soldiers, watching them hit the ground quickly.
He didn't hear any other response from York however, aside from the shotgun firing rapidly and the sound of bodies hitting the forest floor. Ark faintly heard a couple assault rifles going off, but thought nothing of it as they silenced quickly. He slung the rifle around his back quickly, and unsheathed his combat knife while charging at the few remaining soldiers on the right. He leapt forwards, smashing his fist into ones face and slashing the other across the chest, spinning the blade in his hand to stab it into his chest with a downwards sweep.
Removing his blade from the now dying soldier, Ark moved his head to the side to dodge a punch, ruthlessly stabbing the knife through the soldier's throat. With a strangled cry, the man went down hard. He flicked his blade to the side quickly, flicking the blood off it before rotating it until he held the blade end. Ark cocked his arm back before letting loose and flinging the knife across the clearing, smiling with satisfaction as it went through ones visor. Quickly, he glanced over to see how York was faring.
The number two Freelancer was easily holding his own against many of the soldiers, using a mix of punches and blocks along with his shotgun to take them down efficiently. York blocked a knife slash with the side of his shotgun, before twisting the barrel of said rifle around the soldiers arm and blowing his head off. There was so much blood covering York, that Ark couldn't tell if he had been injured or not.
"C'mon men, they're over here!" Ark spun around, seeing many more soldiers advancing towards their bloodied clearing in warthogs. He braced the sniper against his shoulder, quickly firing all four rounds and taking down the entire crew of one, and the driver on a second one. Unfortunatly, the turret soldier in the second warthog turned his chaingun on Ark's position, immediately firing as the freelancer dived for cover.
Ducking behind a tree stump that was rapidly being whittled down by the chainguns' high fire rate, Ark opened a comm channel. "479er this is Agent Arkansas, the objective has been failed! Repeat, mission failed and we need extraction now!"
Immediately the response came back, "Agent Arkansas this is 479er, I am in route. Get ready to jump on board, you guys sure as hell stepped in the wrong ant pile"
Ark was about to respond, before a bullet whizzed by his helmet. "A little help, York?!" He shouted above the roar of the chain gun, hearing the remaining warthog's get closer. Getting no response, he peered to the side and saw York lying on the ground. Not moving.
Just as the enemy warthogs arrived, 479er whooshed in from above, firing missiles and causing the warthogs to erupt in flames. She lowered the ramp of the Pelican, and Ark stood up, running away from the ramp and towards York's unmoving body. "What the hell are you doing? We have to go NOW!" She shouted, seeing multiple targets incoming on her radar.
He didn't reply, instead hefting York's body over his shoulder and ran up the ramp as fast as he could, locking York into a seat with the restraints. "Just go!" Ark cried as bullets pinged off the hull, and 479er complied quickly, shutting the bay door and flying off into the sky.
Ark watched helplessly as York continued to bleed through bullet holes in his helmet, still unconscious. Or worse… Ark thought darkly, shaking his head to banish the very presence of that idea. He'll be fine. He's York after all, he'll make it. At the end of that thought, he felt the Pelican land aboard the Mother of Invention, and quickly hit the manual release on the bay doors. Four medics stood outside the drop ship, already with a gurney out and running aboard the ship quickly. They undid the restraints and hefted York out of the seat, dropping him into the gurney.
They quickly wheeled away York through the doors that he knew from experience led to the surgery room, right next to Recovery One. As Ark stepped off board, he unclipped his helmet and took it off, shaking his head. The next moment however, he felt himself being pushed and held by his throat against the side of the Pelican by a certain teal female Freelancer. "How in the hell did he get hurt?" She growled, and although unable to see through her helmet, Ark could imagine the rage written across her face.
More concerning, however, was the lack of air reaching his lungs as Ark gasped out, "Insurrectionists… jetpacks… crashing…" then let out a noise that sounded remotely like an explosion, using up the last of his breath.
Carolina held him there for another few moments while his face turned red, before letting go and gazing coldly at Ark as he lay on the ground, coughing and breathing heavily. "He had better be alright. For your sake…" She finally spoke, turning on her heel and barging through the doors into the surgery room.
I guess being number one opens doors, literally! Ark thought, still too low on breath to speak as he watched Carolina walk through the normally forbidden doors. He stood up weakly, hand on the side of the Pelican and realized how sore he was. Looking down, he was surprised to find bullet holes in his chestplate, assault rifle rounds likely. Satisfied that the rounds hadn't breached his undersuit, Ark left the hanger bay and turned the corner, walking into the locker rooms.
After managing to find his old locker, Ark stripped off his armor and locked it inside. Too tired to walk back to the armory, he simply unscrewed the long barrel of 'Zona's sniper rifle and carefully fit the two pieces inside. He sighed and looked at his reflection in the mirror mounted inside his locker. It showed a man in his late twenties, with black hair that held streaks of grey in it. His eyes had bags under them from sleep deprivation, giving him a mean neutral look that he never intended.
With a sigh, Ark shut the locker door and began the long treck to his room. While the locker room was conveniently placed near the hanger, his room was placed on the entire opposite side of the ship. Meaning he had to walk past the mess hall, the armory, the Director's office in the center of the Mother of Invention, before finally passing the training center and reaching his room. As Ark walked past the mess hall, he looked through the glass partition in the door to see CT and Florida sitting back to back at a table, reading. While Florida was slightly taller than her, CT's armor was bulkier and could take more hits than his.
What caught his attention, however, was that they were holding hands while they read. They also weren't wearing their helmets, a rare occasion for Florida. He usually hid behind his visor and rarely spoke to anyone on the team, although he seemed friendly enough. CT's expression was hidden behind her combed over hairstyle, whereas Florida wore a content expression on his face as he read.
Ark shook his head with a small smile and continued walking on, quietly sneaking around the Directors office. He didn't see anyone in the training room for once. Guess everyone's taking a break for today… He mused, before finally walking onto his bed and falling flat on it with a groan. Ark managed to keep his eyes open for about thirty seconds, before weariness and exhaustion kicked in and he succumbed to rest.