"Look, I see a doggo, I pet it."
"That is a live Model Three."
"What's your point?"
-Samurai Monster Rancher and The Maestro during the 2035 Raleigh Incursion
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While Erica cleared an apartment building in the safe zone, Alana was assembling her squad for their next sortie. She watched carefully as they collected their gear from the room she had claimed as their personal armory, checking their weapons, pocketing ammunition, and tightening straps.
The weapons were all Samurai tech, but as she’d told Erica, the ammunition was converted from standard rounds. Carrying the portable ammunition press was Specialist Huifang Lin’s duty. She was the machine gunner for the squad’s alpha team, an unnaturally huge woman of 6’ 2” and with prodigious strength to match, allowing her to hump not only her squad automatic weapon, but also the press and numerous spare magazines.
Specialists Silverton and Brown were her teammates. Alpha team was composed of Alana herself and the three most outstanding, uniquely talented individuals she had managed to claim, from Lin’s abnormal strength to Silverton’s preternatural aim as designated marksman and Brown’s savant-level talents with explosives. They were Alana’s primary source of firepower, with Silverton picking off higher tier models, Lin mowing down the small-fry, and Brown controlling the battlefield with precisely placed explosives.
Typically the squad leader for a group this size would be a sergeant, but this was a specialist assault squad, specifically trained for assaulting Antithesis-held positions, rather than defending. While her first team looked like a typical rifle team, the second had a more unique composition.
Bravo team’s leader was Sergeant Terry Jackson, an experienced non-com equipped with an unassuming rifle several times more powerful than standard issue. His team included Specialists Rick Torres, Becca Cabot, and Cameron Fields, and if alpha team slew Antithesis, bravo team slew hives.
Torres was outfitted with an enormously powerful shotgun specifically intended for taking down Model Thirteens in three shots; each slug was a penetrator that could bore a hole right through the metal clubs carried by a Thirteen and ruptured when making contact with the soft flesh of the main body, ensuring the destruction of each body’s organs. Since the hives they targeted were always large enough to have one, if not more, Model Thirteen, this was essential for smooth progress.
Cabot was tasked with lugging a miniaturized anti-armor rocket launcher, essentially the equivalent of taking a shoulder mounted anti-tank weapon and condensing it until it resembled an unassuming grenade launcher. Despite that appearance, it was capable of firing mini rockets that were a credible threat to even Antithesis Models in the 20 range. Unlike Torres’ weapon, which was designed to only detonate under specific conditions, Cabot’s rockets would simply explode on contact, directing a shaped charge into the target at point blank range for maximum penetration- making it unsuitable for killing Thirteen’s, with their clubs-cum-shields, but ideal for more conventionally armored targets.
The final member, Fields, was responsible for a hive-burning flamethrower, loaded with a high-temperature blend that was several times more potent than the normal fuel it was made from. Once all the Antithesis were dead, Fields moved in, spraying the hive with a sticky gel that burned white hot, leaving no bio-mass for the Antithesis to reabsorb. The weapon was just as effective against large groups, though some of the higher numbered Models were hardy enough to withstand it at the cost of crippling wounds.
All three carried a light SMG as a sidearm for dealing with other targets, as their primary weapons were clearly overkill in that majority of circumstances. As with the rest of their armaments, the SMGs were from a Samurai catalogue and loaded with converted ammo that broke down Antithesis flesh to prevent new hives from forming.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
The squad’s armaments placed them head and shoulders above the company’s other assault squads, as evidenced by the total loss of Richter’s team on day one. Equipped only for newborn hives, Richter and his people had had no answer for Model Thirteens, let alone other, more mobile Antithesis. Alana regretted the loss deeply, but Richter and been deployed the moment the crisis began, by their late commanding officer, at approximately the same time Alana was making room for a new hand.
Richter had had the unfortunate luck of leading the on-call squad at the time, and had paid for Tavish’s incompetence and corruption. Even now Alana wasn’t sure what the man had thought a single rapid response team was going to do against so many interconnected hives infesting the abandoned outer town; if she had been in charge, Richter would have been deployed to clear out the groups that had breached the wall.
But then, if she were in charge, there never would have been a hole in the wall covered up with tape and painted over in the first place.
After checking each other’s armor to make sure it was secured, McIntire Squad lined up in front of her, with bravo team’s leader out front of his own fire team. Alana called them to attention out of habit, despite not technically being a member of Stalking Tigers PMC, let alone their squad leader any more, and the squad responded without question.
“At ease, soldiers. Hope you enjoyed your break because it’s the last one you’re getting until nightfall. Don’t forget your ration bars- they’re your dinner tonight.”
“Yes, mom!” shouted Torres, eliciting chuckles from the group. Normally Jackson might have scolded him, but since Alana’s elevation to samurai, the squad had become a bit more casual towards the chain of command, which she had allowed as it seemed to improve morale. The fact they still took her orders so eagerly at all proved their loyalty.
“This time our target is a multi-story hive complex identified by Dylta as the source of a significant number of the enemy’s Model Threes. If we burn it out, we reduce the pressure on the frontlines. Dylta?”
Dylta projected a schematic of the structure in question on the screen behind her. The floors containing the hive were highlighted in red, and beside the schematic was a high-res image taken by a drone, showing the interior. The bottom five floors in their entirety were covered in Antithesis flesh, with a hole opened in the middle stretching from the ground to the top. Vines, leaves, and pods covered every visible inch, and some of the latter could be seen disgorging Model Threes even in the picture.
“We’ll be inserting from the roof and making our way to the sixth floor, where first set up a fortified position, and then we’ll open up a hole and Specialist Brown will drop a payload into the middle of the nest to soften them up. That should cause them to send everything our way, so we’ll let them run right into our defenses while Fields starts bathing the hive in fire from above. Brown?”
The dark-skinned Specialist dropped her hand, having been given the floor. “Permission to blow the building up, ma’am?” Alana wasn’t surprised by the question; the explosives expert hadn’t stopped talking about Erica’s stunt since she witnessed it from the air.
“Denied. There’s no telling how many Model Threes could deploy in the time it takes us to set up, exfil, and detonate. We want to draw them towards us and clean them up while we burn down their hive, not just crush the hive under a mountain of rubble.”
That said, Alana couldn’t deny the appeal of the idea. It was likely a lot more efficient in terms of points, considering how few she’d need to expend compared to the earnings. Sadly, points weren’t the only goal here, and she would still be making a killing even while getting reduced points. Not that she was greedy for them, but she did need points to continue buying tank shells, which were too large for the press, medical supplies, and upgraded gear.
Brown didn’t push the point, but Alana could tell she was still itching to demolish a skyscraper by her subtle fidgeting. Maybe if they found a more dangerous hive with numerous larger models present that would be difficult to kill all at once, she’d consider it. She kept that to herself, though. Best not get the woman’s hopes up.
“Do we have intel on any other models this hive is producing?” asked Jackson.
“Limited, but yes. Model Ones have been sighted, as well as Models Four through Six. Nines are a crapshoot, but this isn’t the typical environment for them. We’ll just have to keep an eye out for those. Nothing in the teens except Thirteens, but we may see another Eleven on the way in. Best to assume there are going to be surprises though; Dylta wasn’t able to insert a drone into the deepest section of the hive.”
Jackson nodded, satisfied with the answer. He likely expected as much, but wanted it clarified for the rest of the squad. When no further questions came, Alana decided to wrap up the briefing and make for the gunship. She and the squad had made numerous insertions over the past couple of days, so they hardly needed to ask about their individual roles by now.
“Alright, if that’s all, then let’s get to the gunship. Move out.”