The investigation of the mass graves on Kotlin was intense. The missing bodies were never found. Dozens of sensors of every type, from ground-penetrating radars to seismic probes, had been placed around the graves. A small tent city had been erected nearby for Vanguard investigators to examine them.
Inquisitor Aurelian was a reflection of his Roman heritage. He did nothing fast but was exceptionally thorough. The dirt from the graves was examined down to the very last grain for anomalous properties. None were found. However, it was discovered that the volume of dirt placed in the covered graves was not consistent with the amount removed. The missing volume accounted for the estimated number of bodies that would have been placed in the graves, indicating that dead civilians had indeed been buried before they disappeared. But how? That answer lay within the DNA found inside the cathedral.
The cascade that had been formed and then interrupted by the Freikorps and a reconnaissance squad of the 1st Mechanized Brigade had gone cold and ceased to exist, leaving no evidence of its presence. Except, it had left physical remains behind. The helmet cams of the Rifles were reviewed frame by frame to study what had happened. Once the cascade was created using R1C Martinez's soul, a rat was thrown into the middle where it underwent a physiological change. After being stripped of its flesh, it continued to move before dissolving into thin air. Aurelian concluded that the rat was the key.
Autopsies of the uncovered remains that weren't fully buried revealed that they had been drained of their blood. This was not unusual; vampires, of course, fed on blood, and the bodies were initially disregarded as having been used for feeding. Aurelian revisited this piece of evidence and found that no two bodies had been drained simultaneously. Decomposition analysis revealed a substantial amount of time between their deaths. Reviews of camera footage found around the island, from phones or security cams, revealed that most buildings were systematically emptied after the cultists took over. Logically, neighbors would have been placed next to each other before being killed. But the leftover corpses revealed a gap in that pattern. For every one corpse that was related to another by three degrees of removal, the second was missing. For example, take a woman living in apartment 101 with a husband, and then another person living in apartment 102, and then another in 103. The husband from 101 and the tenant in 103 would be missing, with the woman and the 102 tenant counted among the dead.
Using this pattern, Aurelian determined that a similar ritual as had been done to the rat had been performed on the missing people. It was then assumed that the rat, having been the last, served some special purpose and was most likely enslaved to the vampire queen's will. Presumably, these corpses that were transmogrified prior were also enslaved to the will of a vampiric master. The same question remained for them and the rat: Where did they go?
------------------------------------------------
Los Angeles, California
A number of things happened simultaneously. The AP round accelerated back down the hallway toward Kinger. The round caught the side of her helmet and impacted the Kevlar, causing the projectile to fragment. Most of the fragments rode the spall liner and were redirected. The kinetic energy was equal to its muzzle energy when it was originally fired. Kinger was knocked backward, with some shrapnel making it through the helmet. Blood ran down the side of her head and face.
The air temperature and pressure inside the building suddenly dropped dramatically within seconds. The windows immediately fogged with condensation, dimming the amount of light. The Rifles were immediately disoriented by the pressure drop as their ears popped.
Static electricity built up in the air, causing metal objects to emit small static shocks. These shocks quickly intensified, turning from small bursts into deadly arc flashes. Overhead lights flickered, and some burst from the overcurrent. The troopers' HUDs went fuzzy; Walker's was completely wiped out. Sadie was completely unaffected.
Inside the apartment, Bush heard a monstrous screeching noise, like a steel I-beam being twisted mixed with a cougar’s roar. Despite his damage, he went upstairs to investigate. On the second floor, he found the cascade exposed once again. Objects and furniture were thrown around the room by an unseen force, creating missile hazards. A chaotic whirlwind of debris had formed with the cascade at its center. Radiation levels spiked and continued to climb. His lead-shielded processors were unaffected, but as the static buildup grew worse, his electrically controlled systems faltered. A sucking force tried to pull him closer to the malignant anomaly. He fixed himself in place by bracing against the doorframe, but it was no use. The frame bore witness to the cascade rapidly expanding. Plaster was slowly being peeled from the walls. An arc of electricity jolted his chassis. His internal grounding circuit failed due to battle damage. His internal systems fried, and Bush collapsed to the floor, becoming nothing more than a pile of scrap metal.
---------------------------------
The TOC and Perelli lost contact with the Rifle team and everyone else inside the building. The last image Perelli received was Kinger's helmet cam cutting out after being struck by a bullet. Stavros and Ghost argued inside the TOC. The Inquisitor now pushed to call in the fleet and blow their cover, while Ghost argued for continued discretion. Perelli couldn't just stand by while he watched his fellow Rifles be killed. For all he knew, they already were.
Unfortunately, his options were limited. The other Rifle squad was stationed with the Foxhounds all the way in the Angeles Forest, north of the city. They could get there quickly, but the Foxhounds’ stealth wasn’t useful during the daytime. It was bright and sunny, and even with the adaptive panels, they’d stick out like a sore thumb. On the other hand, he could take their other clandestinely acquired rental van, but that would take too long to get on the scene.
He looked over at the drone feed of the Venicia luxury apartment building. The windows on the topmost floors were fogged over, and flashes of light were obvious behind them. None of it looked like muzzle flashes. He tapped the operator's shoulder and asked her to pan wide on the camera. There were bystanders in the street, attracted to the ambulance accident. Emergency services had arrived despite ISR efforts to delay their response. Some of the bystanders could be seen pointing up at the building. They could tell something was wrong. Stealth was OBE by this point.
Perelli made up his mind. He tuned in to the Foxhounds' frequency, hesitating before speaking into his mic. "Cutup Lead, this is R1C Perelli, TOC. We’ve lost contact with the Rifle team inside Venicia Luxury Apartments. ISR efforts to maintain stealth are compromised. Be advised, the top floors of the target building show fogged windows and unidentified light flashes. The situation is critical. I need immediate exfil from TOC and rapid deployment of remaining Rifle assets to the target area. Over."
"Cutup Lead, acknowledge your last, R1C," came the terse reply, the pilot’s voice calm and ready. They'd likely been following the situation on their own radio and already made preparations. "Er, is this sanctioned by mission lead? I can't be stealthily flying right over the city in broad daylight," he asked.
"It will be," Perelli replied, with some edge to his voice.
"Roger. ETA to your position in five mikes," the pilot confirmed.
"Good copy, Cutup Lead. I need you to deploy your full complement of Rifles on the roof of the target building and engage with extreme prejudice. Be advised, we’ve got possible non-human hostiles inside. Do not wait for further instructions. Cutup 2, proceed directly to TOC and pick me up for immediate deployment," Perelli ordered, confidence in his voice, though unsure if he was doing the right thing. This was new for him.
"Cutup 2, roger that. En route to TOC, ETA seven mikes," the second pilot responded, the sound of engines spooling up in the background.
Perelli switched frequencies, his focus sharpening as he prepared to give orders to the second squad. "TOC, Bravo, this is R1C Perelli. ISR cover is no longer our priority. Prepare for engagement at Venicia Luxury Apartments. Time to make our presence known."
"Roger, R1C. Tooth and Nail." Their squad leader confirmed. He was First-Class as well and technically senior to Perelli. But as squad leader of the command team, Perelli was technically superior to him. However, Perelli wasn't technically in the role of squad leader for this mission; he was an advisor and technically not in the chain of command at all. There were many technicalities. He decided not to think about the minutiae of the situation while operating on the fly and took gratitude that the R1C didn’t challenge him.
He snatched up his HR-15 and rechecked his gear. He double-checked that his blessed punch dagger was on him. He also dispensed with the suppressor, disdainfully dropping it in his dump bag.His heart pounded in his chest and it was making his still-healing wound hurt.
Stavros and Ghost stopped arguing when they heard renewed chatter over the net. Ghost was the first to protest. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, this is an ISR op, Rifle. MY op. You’re blowing our cover wide open."
Perelli, still focused on his preparations, responded without missing a beat. "We don’t have a choice. We’ve lost contact with the team inside, and the situation is spiraling out of control. We can’t just sit here. Lieutenant Walker is indisposed, and we're out of covert options. This is now a tactical situation. As the ranking Rifle member, I'm taking control of this operation." Perelli was careful not to trip over the power rush he got from telling off the senior ISR agent.
Stavros stepped forward, his tone more measured but no less serious. "R1C, I understand the urgency, but calling in the Foxhounds in broad daylight? You’re exposing us, and we don’t know what we’re up against inside that building. We need more information before we commit to this course of action."
Perelli couldn’t shake the image of Kinger’s helmet cam cutting out, the last thing he’d seen before the feed went dark. He had to act. "With all due respect, sir, we don’t have time to wait. The enemy’s already tipped their hand, and we’re the ones caught flat-footed—even if it was by accident. We need to seize the initiative before things slide any more sideways."
Stavros’s eyes narrowed as he considered the situation. He was analytical, a thinker, not prone to decisiveness. But he also knew that sometimes, action had to be taken, even if it wasn’t perfectly aligned with protocol. "Perelli, I’m not authorizing a full deployment yet. We need a contingency. If this goes south, we’re going to have every government agency in the country on our backs."
Perelli bit his tongue before responding. He was perfectly willing to step on ISR's toes but less so the Inquisitor’s. He decided to anyway. "I'm not asking. Get on the horn and call in reinforcements. A full brigade would be preferable."
Ghost, still visibly agitated, added, "And if you’re wrong, Perelli, if this is just a feint or a trap, we’re going to lose a lot more than just a handful of Rifles. We’re going to lose the mission."
Perelli didn't have a response nor did he want to continue arguing. "That's what airstrikes are for," he told the agent, who went ballistic, looking around the TOC wildly, likely contemplating the end of his days as a field asset. Cutup 2 reported being 1 mike out.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Mayor Albright's short, balding form sat with his hands tied in the back of an unmarked white van, which rolled through the city streets. To where, he did not know. Two muscular men sat in the front seats, and a third sat across from him in the empty cargo area.
"Come on, who are you guys? FBI? DHS?" he pleaded with his kidnappers. The third man, a large black gentleman in a suit with a buzzcut, didn't answer him. "You can't do this. You didn't even read me my Miranda rights. Is this about the 200 grand my campaign got from the Bakers Association? I promise I had no idea they were a cartel front operation—no idea!"
Suddenly, the driver jammed the wheel hard left and applied the brakes. The van swerved, jolting its occupants. There was a dull thud against the metal side of the van. Once righted, the driver resumed driving normally.
"What are you doing up there?" the third agent remarked, his voice tense.
Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
"Oi, there was a proper mad vrouw in the road! She just strode out right in front of me, hey!" the driver replied in a thick Rhodesian Afrikaner accent, his head on a swivel as he checked his mirrors.
Albright took the opportunity to insult them. "Oh, and now you've killed a pedestrian. You have got to be the most incompetent agents I've ever seen in my—"
His rant was cut short when he glanced out of the window on the rear doors of the van. A woman was hanging off the back of the van, standing on the bumper. She had short black hair and wore circular red shades. She flashed her fangs at him.
"O-oh, fuck."
She disappeared in a cloud of smoke.
And then reappeared inside the van.
The ISR agent across from Albright moved first, drawing a compact pistol from his shoulder holster. He fired two shots at Vespera, but she moved with blinding speed, sidestepping the bullets as if they were in slow motion. Her hand shot out, gripping the agent's wrist with iron force. With a twist, she snapped the bone, forcing the gun from his hand. Before he could even cry out in pain, she drove her other hand, clawed and deadly, into his throat. Blood sprayed across the interior of the van as the agent gurgled, his eyes wide with terror, before collapsing lifelessly onto the floor.
The front passenger spun around, drawing his sidearm, but Vespera was faster. She launched herself across the van in a blur, her fangs bared. The agent managed to get off a shot, but it went wide, embedding itself in the wall as she sunk her fangs into his neck. He screamed, struggling to push her off, but his strength was nothing compared to hers. With a savage jerk, she tore out his throat, blood gushing as his life drained away. "Such a waste." she thought of the spilled blood.
The driver, hearing the commotion behind him, slammed the accelerator to the floor, forcing the van to surge forward. He used his expertise behind the wheel to his advantage. He threw the van into a hard left, sending it skidding around a corner. The abrupt maneuver caused Vespera to stumble, momentarily off balance.
"Think you're clever, eh? Let’s see how you handle this!" the driver growled, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. With a swift, calculated move, he jerked the wheel to the right, then immediately to the left, creating a serpentine motion. The van swayed violently, tossing its occupants around like ragdolls. Vespera was thrown against the side of the van, her claws scraping against the metal walls as she tried to steady herself.
The driver’s eyes were locked on the road, but his mind was on the fight unfolding behind him. He couldn't afford to take his eyes off the road, so he focused on using the van's inertia as his weapon. He accelerated into a sharp turn, throwing Vespera against the opposite side of the van with bone-jarring force.
"You’re not gonna make this easy, are you?" Vespera hissed, her fangs bared as she regained her footing. The Rhodesian had forced her to play defense, but she was far from beaten.
"Not a chance, you bloedzuiger!" he spat, slamming the wheel hard to the left again. The van skidded sideways, and he used the momentum to fling Vespera back across the cargo area. The vampire, caught off guard by the driver’s skill, crashed into the rear doors, denting them with the impact.
Vespera snarled, her patience wearing thin. She lunged forward, but the driver anticipated her move. He slammed on the brakes, then abruptly accelerated again, causing her to miss her mark. The vampire flew through the front windshield. The driver pressed the accelerator with intent to run her down. Right before impact, she teleported again, putting herself back inside the van, right behind the motivated agent.
The driver drew his revolver with his free hand, firing several shots over his shoulder. The bullets pinged off the walls of the van, one grazing Vespera's arm, but she was already moving, too fast for him to get a clean shot.
"You think you're tough, hey?" the driver taunted, throwing the van into another sharp turn, using the force to try and pin Vespera against the side. But this time, she was ready. She leapt forward, sinking her claws into the seat behind him, using it to anchor herself as she reached for him.
The van careened through the city streets at breakneck speed, narrowly avoiding pedestrians and other vehicles. The driver threw it into another tight corner, but Vespera was done being tossed around. She gripped the seat and swung herself forward, kicking the revolver out of his hand before he could fire again.
"You're good," she admitted, "but this is futile."
The driver gritted his teeth, refusing to let up. He accelerated again, straightening out the van just long enough to regain some control before swerving wildly to avoid a collision. But Vespera was relentless. She grabbed the driver’s shoulder, her grip like iron, and yanked him backwards, pulling him away from the wheel. The world outside blurred as the vehicle spun out of control, the centrifugal force slamming Vespera into the side of the van again.
The van tipped, then flipped, crashing onto its side and skidding across the pavement with a shower of sparks. Metal screamed against asphalt as the van came to a grinding halt, smoke billowing from the wreckage.
Inside, the driver was dazed but alive. He crawled out through the shattered windshield, blood streaming down his face from a gash on his forehead. He stumbled to his feet, knife in hand, ready to finish the fight. He could hear Vespera moving inside the wrecked van.
The vampire burst out of the van, her eyes blazing with fury. The driver didn’t hesitate. He charged at her, knife raised, aiming for her heart. But Vespera was faster. She dodged his strike with inhuman speed, countering with a vicious slash that tore through his arm. He staggered back, but didn’t fall. With a determined glare, he lunged at her again, this time feinting left before striking right. The blade grazed her side, drawing a thin line of blood, but it wasn’t enough. Vespera retaliated with a powerful backhand that sent him sprawling to the ground.
"You put up a good fight," she said, looming over him, "but this is the end."
The Rhodesian struggled to his feet, his body screaming in protest, but he refused to give up. He met her gaze with defiance, gripping his knife tightly. "Come on then, let’s finish this."
Vespera smiled, a cold, predatory grin. She moved with blinding speed, knocking the knife from his hand and delivering a swift, deadly strike to his chest. He gasped, his breath coming in ragged spurts as he fell to his knees.
She leaned in close, whispering in his ear, "You should have stayed down."
With that, she finished him off with a swift bite to the neck, draining the life from him in seconds. The Rhodesian fell to the ground, lifeless, as Vespera stood over him, wiping the blood from her lips.
She turned to the van, where Mayor Albright cowered, unharmed but terrified. She pulled him from the wreckage. With uncharacteristically gentle movements, she wiped broken glass from his grey suit.
"Now, now, what do I do with a pawn that fails?" she asked rhetorically. Albright fixated on her with wide eyes. He wasn't a good politician by any means, but he knew how to survive by making himself useful.
"Look, ma'am—"
"Master," she corrected him.
"Master. I-I-I don't know what's happening. They kidnapped me. I don't know who they are. They were asking about my apartment, and you know, the thing." he said, lowly.
"They're agents of the Vanguard. The ones I told you about." She was losing patience with him. "The one thing that can ruin our plans here. Because of this development, we must take drastic measures. You are still in, yes?" It was a rhetorical question. He had no choice.
"Yes," Albright confirmed.
"Good. Eternal life does not come cheap. I have told you this. I have tasks for you."
"Whatever you want."
"I have mobilized the Gumi and will soon have control of the entire underground. I need you to ensure Commissioner Fremont will order his officers to cooperate," she said, referring to the corrupt head of police who was also brought under her thumb in exchange for being turned into an immortal thrall. "I also need you to stall communications. Make sure the Governor and your federal government do not know what is going on here. Suppress everything. You will stall as long as you can."
"Won't this show our hand? You'll create chaos!" Albright questioned her.
Vespera placed a threatening hand, palm up, on his shoulder. If she wanted to, she could crush his neck right there. Instead, she motivated him. "Do you not want to realize your dreams, Mister Mayor? That socialist utopia you have written about late into every night? The dream you are forced to keep hidden out of fear?" She played to his ulterior motives.
He licked his lips contemplatively. "Yes."
"As you have said yourself, 'Change comes through bloodshed.' So, go and do what is necessary to create your utopia." Vespera said the words with false conviction. Enough to fool the Mayor, but she did not kid herself. Political extremists and their ideologies were tools. If necessary, she'd play to the sensibilities of communists, royalists, and even the God-forsaken Nazis if it got her what she wanted. This one just happened to be in the right place at the right time.
"What will you be doing?"
Vespera inflated with a genuine sense of pride. "I must assemble my disciples."
-----------------------------------------
They came to a hover just short of the apartment building containing the cascade after picking up the poorly placed sniper team. Perelli had an unobstructed view of the situation. The street was buzzing with activity. Several fire trucks were now blocking the street around the building. The wrecked ambulance hadn’t been moved. A wounded person was being loaded onto a stretcher. Several bystanders were pointing upwards at Cutup Lead and Cutup 2. The big black Foxhounds were a unique sight. Cutup Lead came in over the apartment building and dropped his tail downward, putting his rear landing gear on the deck.
Suddenly, there was an immense groaning noise. Perelli observed the top floors of the building begin to rumble, shattering glass and dislodging loose external furnishings.
"Cutup Lead, Abort! Abort! Abort insertion!" Perelli shouted over the net. The Foxhound didn’t hesitate to respond. It lifted off and put distance between itself and the rooftop. No sooner had its landing gear left the gravel than the windows on the top floor exploded outwards. Glass shards rained down onto the streets below, causing pedestrians to scream and run for cover.
"Good God!" Vogel, the spotter for the sniper team, remarked from behind him. They watched as the structural frames bowed outward, and a massive circle of energy emerged from inside. It warped and contorted around its edge, creating a strange sight that was hard for the human mind to comprehend. Perelli got a headache just from looking at it. The cascade had swollen to an immense size, as big as a dump truck. It pushed aside steel girders, wiring, and concrete as it fully emerged from the building. It chaotically wrapped some of this debris around itself in loose orbits. What didn’t adhere fell to the streets below.
The Rifles adjusted their optics to see what was at the center. Floating in its nexus was a single individual. Perelli scanned the building’s top floor. He located the bodies of Walker, Kinger, and the rest on the ground, unmoving. He still couldn’t get a read on their vitals. He had no idea if they were alive or dead. As the cascade moved away from the building, he radioed Bravo’s squad leader. "R1C, insert for medevac." He marked the incapacitated Korpsman’s location for them to head toward. "Recover possible wounded and get out of there. Over."
"Roger. We’re on it," the squad leader acknowledged. Cutup Lead began to dip for a landing again.
Now, Perelli had to find a way to fight the cascade. If the "Sadie" individual was truly its power source, then that was probably her at the center, which made the prospect of terminating her tricky. He contemplated whether to engage directly or do something smart.
------------------------------------------
Sadie felt it as soon as the bullet stopped. She felt its emotion—its love extended like a blanket over her. It was warmth and pure emotion, almost overwhelming in its intensity. But it wasn't all positive; she also felt hate and sadness. It was an overstimulation that burned but felt good at the same time—an enigma. Yet, she knew the moment it enveloped her that it cared for her. Time seemed to stop. The men in fatigues and armor, with large guns, all froze in place, unmoving. It had stopped the bullet that would have ended her life—the bullet that would have ended its love.
It called itself Eclipsion. It wanted what was best for her, and it wanted what was best for all humanity. It explained this to her. But it also needed her; without her, it could not survive. The men with guns were here to kill its love. Who would want to kill a being of pure love and power? It offered itself to her to save her life. She initially said no. Then it said it could save Seeb's life. She needed only to acknowledge their connection. She said, "Yes."
The cascade exploded outwards, engulfing the entire apartment. The building shook. The wall next to her was atomized, exposing her to the full effect of Eclipsion. It wanted to kill the soldiers, but she arrested its wrath just before it could lower the atmospheric pressure around them enough to kill them. Instead, they were left unconscious. She shifted her focus outside, and Eclipsion took her within itself. It exited the building and began to gently lower itself down to the street. The firefighters and other emergency responders had fled the scene.
She saw Seeb's body on a stretcher. He was unconscious. Even from several feet away, she could smell his blood, but she couldn't hear his breathing or detect his heartbeat. Hovering with Eclipsion, she moved closer to her friend. She willed Eclipsion to save him, but it denied her. It explained that it could not save the dead. She despaired at the death of her friend, which quickly turned to anger. Outraged, Sadie rebuked its loving embrace, but it had already slithered its way into the depths of her mind. It convinced her not to sorrow. It now offered something to make up for her loss—revenge on the ones who, it told her, were responsible. Revenge on the Terra Vanguard.
"Probing fire! Light it up!" Perelli ordered.
"Roger, probing fire," Cutup 2 responded, in a steady voice. The Foxhound banked smoothly, bringing the cascade into the crosshairs. The nose-mounted 30mm cannon swiveled in sync with the pilot's targeting reticle, tracking the cascade as the aircraft moved into position.
"Target acquired. Guns, guns, guns!" Cutup 2 announced, squeezing the trigger. The 30mm cannon unleashed a controlled burst of high-explosive rounds, the tracer fire arcing down toward the cascade, aiming to gauge its response and the effectiveness of the munitions.
Perelli pinged Bravo's squad leader to check their progress. They had the downed command squad members and were loading them into Cutup Lead's bird.
Vogel, the keen-eyed spotter, observed that the rounds weren't having any effect. They were exploding before impact. "No effect on target!" he called out.
"Have you got anything bigger onboard?" Perelli asked Cutup 2.
"Negative. Just the three-oh. Cutup Lead has rocket pods," the pilot replied.
Perelli would have liked to have that ordnance, but he wasn't about to interrupt a CASEVAC. Cutup Lead needed to get clear of the battle space. They didn't have a lot of options. He switched frequencies.
"TOC, Perelli. Does High Command know about this yet?" he asked, but before he could hear the response, Cutup 2 suddenly banked hard, shouting, "Incoming!" Perelli glanced up just in time to see a ladder truck hurtling through the air toward them. It slammed into the starboard engine, sending the Foxhound into an uncontrolled flat spin.
----------------------------------------------
35,000 feet above New Mexico
Leader-Commander Tambor was suffering through logistics reports on his flight back to Salvo. Lieutenant Camilla urgently dashed into his office, clutching her tablet as usual. "Sir, we have a developing situation."