The smoky haze combined with the night and made it hard to see as the four Freikorpsmen filed out onto the street. Perelli took the lead with Lance in the rear. Vogel carried Gunman on his shoulders between them. Perelli was particularly worried about the pilot. Cutup 2 carried a submachine gun and only had his flight suit for protection. Both kept their weapons raised, scanning rooftops and alleyways as they passed. Ahead of them, through the smoke, an intersection’s lights blinked red.
Just as they approached the junction, a sedan came speeding out of the haze, bouncing several inches off the ground as it passed over the raised concrete in the middle of the intersection. The Rifles quickly took cover. The car was closely followed by several police vehicles with sirens wailing. The chase disappeared quickly around the corner, leaving only disturbed dust in their wake and the Rifles on edge.
"We need a ride," Perelli said. He wasn’t a spy, but he knew they needed something nondescript and sturdy. Several cars were parked along the sides of the street. He gave each a quick look before settling on a black ’03 Chevy Tahoe. "This one," he pointed out. "Does anyone know how to hotwire?"
"On it," Lance said, smashing open the driver’s side window with the butt of his SMG. Perelli covered him as he ripped wires from under the dash. Vogel used the now-unlocked doors to load the still-unconscious Gunman into the back. The German stretched after finally dropping the big sniper’s weight.
While providing cover, Perelli noticed the surrounding area becoming quieter. Then he saw movement—a brief glimpse of a shadow on the roof opposite them, then another down the street. A bad feeling churned in his gut.
"Got it!" the pilot announced, just as Perelli was about to urge him to hurry up. The engine turned over with slickening clatter of loose bolts.
The SUV made a high-pitched squealing sound, indicating its timing belt was slipping. Just as Lance slid into the driver’s seat, a gunshot rang out, narrowly missing him and glancing into the roof lining. The street then exploded into chaos as gunfire erupted from multiple angles, rounds pinging against the vehicle’s panels.
"Everybody in!" Perelli ordered, jumping into the passenger seat. Just as he sat down, a sharp, searing pain shot through his chest. "Agh!"
"You hit?!" Lance asked, glancing over.
Perelli wanted to say yes, but he realized it was his previous injury. His ribcage was still mending, and something had probably just snapped. He struggled to breathe and pointed forward. "Go! I’m fine!"
Lance hit the gas, the Tahoe’s tires squealing before it lurched from its parking spot lethargically. He immediately cut left and sped around a corner. The gunfire slackened.
"There’s a reason I wasn’t part of the tac-team," Perelli explained. "I’m nursing a lot of rib implants."
Lance nodded in understanding, then focused back on the mission. "I need a destination, R1C."
"Just evade for now. We need to make contact with friendlies," Perelli told him, the pain beginning to ease up.
Lance made random turns to throw off any pursuers but still kept a generally westward direction. Traffic was light in the midst of the chaos. After turning onto a four-lane road, two vehicles emerged from the smoke behind them. A bright orange Supra, all neon lights, chrome, and equipped with a massive exhaust, came barreling toward them. It was followed closely by an armored pickup truck, its panels and windows covered in metal sheets. A tripod-mounted machine gun was affixed to the back.
"Contact rear!" Vogel shouted, pointing behind them.
"Hang on!" Lance called out, veering the Tahoe sharply around a corner, hoping to shake them. The ricer handled the turn effortlessly and continued to gain ground.
"They're gaining!" Vogel called out, bracing himself against the seats. Gunman groaned but remained unconscious.
Perelli took a deep breath, straining to turn around in his seat. The trailing vehicles were driven by young men in plain clothes, covered in tattoos, and heavily armed. "Engage at will!" he ordered. Lance handed him his submachine gun, which Perelli accepted gratefully. The HR-15's heavy frame wasn't ideal for maneuvering in the cramped interior.
The Gumi gangsters fired first. A man leaned out of the window of the ricer and sprayed wildly at the SUV with a machine pistol. Vogel rested the barrel of his HR-15 on the rear seat cushions. The bouncing of the vehicle's worn suspension made it difficult to aim, but he managed to land a single shot. The .30-06 round snapped the gangster's head back after hitting him right between the teeth. His dead body flopped out of the window and tumbled onto the pavement.
Perelli instructed Lance, "Let him get alongside. I want to see who these guys are."
Lance changed lanes and brake-checked the Supra. The driver swerved right and pulled alongside the SUV. Perelli made sure his helmet cam was recording as he got a good look at the gangster's face and tattoos. If he could get the footage to ISR, they could identify him and find out who he worked for. Or rather "worked"—because the Supra driver wasn't paying attention to what was in front of him. While trying to draw his pistol, Lance pressed the Chevy into the side of the car, forcing it onto the shoulder. The smaller car couldn't match the SUV's weight and plowed head-on into the back of a flatbed truck. The driver of the Supra was beheaded by the edge of the bed as the rest of the car smashed against the rear bumper.
There was no time to process the gruesome death. The armored technical opened fire. Lance didn’t bother swerving, as that would have helped the gunner more thoroughly rake the Tahoe. Vogel reacted quickly to the incoming fire, returning short bursts that kept the gunner suppressed. Next to him, Gunman sat up with a groan, clutching the side of his head.
"What the hell’s going on?" he asked, still unaware of his surroundings.
"Ah, you're awake!" Vogel greeted him, firing another burst.
"Where’s my rifle?"
"We lost it in the Foxhound crash."
"Crash?" Gunman was slowly catching on. A round pinged right above him, and he quickly shut his ballistic mask.
"Ja. Now we’re being chased," Vogel explained.
Gunman squinted, still a little dazed. He righted himself in his seat, ripped two grenades from his ammo carrier, and pulled the pins. Holding them out the window, he let the striker pins fly. He carefully counted down and dropped them. One grenade bounced off the pavement and exploded harmlessly down a drain, but the other exploded directly beneath the technical. The armored vehicle jolted violently, lifting several inches off the ground. The gunner fell off the bed and tumbled onto the pavement, leaving the machine gun unmanned. But the technical kept coming.
The pickup accelerated and the Rifle's braced for an impact that never came. The technical suddenly let off the gas and let the gap between them expand. It moved aside and a glossy black Cadillac Escalade passed it. The big vehicle had a more intimidating aura than the machine-gun armed technical.
Perelli had a bad feeling. "Punch it!" He told Lance.
"We're already maxed out. This piece of shit won't go over 60." the pilot turned driver told him.
The moonroof on the Escalade slid backwards ominously. A thin female finger climbed out onto the roof. She carried a 40mm grenade launcher.
"Shoot that motherfucker!" Gunman told Vogel, who obliged.
They didn’t have a chance to react. With a loud BLOOP, the grenade launcher echoed through the chaos, followed by a sudden, deafening explosion. The blast rocked the Tahoe violently, lifting it off its two right-side wheels. For a heart-stopping moment, the entire vehicle teetered on the edge of balance before inertia forced it over. The big SUV rolled sideways into a fast washing-machine roll.
Inside, the Freikorpsmen clung to whatever they could as the centrifugal force threatened to rip them from their seats, the weight of the vehicle crashing down as metal groaned and windows shattered. Paneling sheered and was thrown dozens of feet away. The world turned upside down, the interior of the vehicle becoming a swirling vortex of loose gear and debris, throwing them against the walls and ceiling as the Tahoe tumbled along the roadway. The last thing Perelli saw was the pavement coming up fast as the vehicle landed on its roof.
-------------------------------------------------------
The enigmatic power of the cascade coursed through Sadie's veins. The one called Eclipsion wormed its way into the depths of her mind, altering memories and making a nest for itself within her brain. All Sadie ever felt from it was love and a will to do great things for mankind. It wanted to spread itself and hold dominion over the Earth.
A hurricane of emotion raged within her. It frightened her, but each time the cascade detected her emotional distress, it soothed her. When she felt cold, it warmed her. She became increasingly aware of her changing physiology—the growth of fangs, the drop in her core temperature. But the hunger was the worst. It was a hunger unlike any she had ever known—not for food, but for blood. She knew with certainty that she had become a vampire. Yet, instead of horror, she felt excitement. Her growing power would make her a better companion for Eclipsion. She saw it as a benefactor, not a parasite.
Sadie remained on the block beneath the burning apartment building. Earlier that day, she would have found the sight horrifying, but now she felt warmth and inspiration from it. The whole world could—would—be painted in such beautiful fire. Her reverie was interrupted by Eclipsion. It didn’t speak directly to her; it suggested, nudged, and forced thoughts into her mind. Now was the time to embark on their journey. But to where? Nowhere. Eclipsion had all it needed right here. Sadie understood.
Using Eclipsion’s power, she scanned the abandoned street. Eclipsion needed an army. Sadie knew she couldn't trust the criminal legion assembled by the vampire Vespera. She needed something new. Eclipsion sensed that Vespera had a Skeleton bound to her will, a once-living being transmogrified and bent to her command. It reached out into the ether and took control of it, using it as a proxy to order Vespera to assemble her forces—the Inazumi-Gumi, the traitor police forces, and the few irregulars she had brought from out of town.
Eclipsion would make an army out of them. Right here, right now.
-----------------------------------------
Perelli awoke to the sound of muffled jeering. He groaned as he came to, his vision blurry. His HUD was functional, but the ballistic mask was cracked down the middle with smaller cracks spidering out from it, causing the HUD to fuzz and glitch out. He sat up. His entire body ached. His chest especially burned with a sharp pain that made his breathing ragged.
He realized he was in the back of a moving vehicle. The seats were cushy rich leather. An overhead light shined brightly at his face making it hard to see ahead. It also made it hard it hard to see out of the windows, but he could tell there was a crowd outside the vehicle. They cheered as the vehicle rode past.
He focused on a figure across from him. His shattered mask made it hard to identify them. They were skinny and clad in black, that much he could tell. His immediate intent was to attempt to kill whoever was sitting across from him. The inside of the vehicle was spacious. They were sitting in a chair that had been turned around to face towards him.
"Welcome back. You're a tough one. You've survived a lot of crashes today." The voice was female and familiar, but he couldn't place it.
Perelli attempted to stand up, but found his hands were bound with flexicuffs and connected via chain to the floor.
"You'll find you are quite restrained. Fighting is useless. You are at my mercy, slave of the light." She said.
Perelli didn't want to give her the satisfaction of arguing. He envisioned his hands around his captors throat, squeezing it as hard as he could. He could already tell they had stripped him of his weapons because his kit felt lighter. He settled for a death glare at the woman. She couldn't see his face, but his shark-tooth tinted ballistic mask made for an intimidating visage on its own.
"You are a Rifle First-Class, yes?" She asked. "I must admit, I do my best not to delve into your inferior system or culture. But it is necessary to know one's enemy, unfortunately." She said dismissively.
Perelli's blood ran cold. Vampires didn't have a unique tone or voice like in movies, but one could tell easily from speech patterns. You need only let one run their mouth and they will berate you with words of denigration. Such was their belief in their own superiority.
She shifted to an explanatory voice. "The human lifespan is so limited. So little can be achieved. Imagine what Albert Einstein could have achieved if eternity was at his finger tips? Unburdened by the specter of death."
Uncaring for what was likely to become a long diatribe about vampirism, Perelli was already searching for a way out. His hands were gloved and couldn't break the flexicuffs. He had his boots, but any overt movement would alert the vampire. He could tell now that she was lounging, unconcerned, holding a fine glass to her lips.
The vampire swirled the dark liquid in her glass, savoring the taste before she continued, her voice dripping with condescension. "You humans... you cling so desperately to your fleeting lives. Born to die, each of you scrambling to make your mark on the world before time catches up and drags you into oblivion. You Vanguard," she said with distaste, "You've seen the other side, and yet you come back to the same mortality to suffer the same death. And for what? A few moments of fleeting glory? A name written in history books that will one day crumble into dust, just like you. Pathetic."
She leaned forward slightly, her tone now that of a professor speaking to an ignorant student. Perelli paid her no mind.
Vampirism is not simply about strength or longevity. It’s about liberation. We are freed from the petty constraints of time, from the chains of mortality that bind you so tightly. I don't understand your Vanguard for that exact reason. You cling to your pathetic ideals, your short-sighted morals, rejecting the very thing that could make you greater than you ever were. Your inferiority is ingrained in your very nature. You humans are so easily broken, so easily corrupted. You live, you die, and the world forgets you. But we… we are eternal, unyielding. The world bends to us, and in time, it will forget that it ever belonged to you."
"It is tragic." Her gaze settled on Perelli, her eyes glinting with a predatory amusement. She suddenly became serious. "How does it feel, knowing that all your sacrifices, all your comrades, will be for nothing? That the Vanguard you serve is already a dying relic of the past?"
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Her last sentence hit its mark. Perelli's jaw clenched. He had remained silent until now, but her dismissive tone toward his comrades, the lives of those who had fought beside him, was too much. "You don't know a damn thing about the Vanguard or the people in it," he spat, finally breaking his silence. His voice was hoarse, his chest aching from the pain, but he wouldn’t let her have the satisfaction of thinking she had broken him. "Our Leader-Commander has built the most powerful military organization in history. By our guns you will be burned from this planet, abomination."
The vampire chortled at his words. "So you can talk? You are probably wondering why you are not dead yet."
"The thought crossed my mind." Perelli said, his tone making it clear his thoughts were about killing her.
"I recognize you are probably the highest ranking one left of your little team here in Los Angeles. I must be frank with you Rifle, I do not know what is going to happen to you." She said nonchalantly. "I imagine you and your comrades are going die extremely painfully."
Perelli perked up. That indicated that Vogel, Gunman and Lance were still alive.
She continued, "That thing you tried and failed to disrupt has grown a conscience, admittedly my doing, and it wants you all alive. So I can't kill you quite yet, despite how much I really want to. And I must say, I personally have not gotten to sample the goods." She flashed her fangs, but Perelli couldn't see it through his ruined mask. "I wonder, does the blood of one of your kind taste any different? I'd like to find out." She leaned forward and rose from her seat.
Perelli's eyes widened. He pushed himself back in his seat, desperately trying to put every inch he could between himself and her. The chain to the floor kept him from getting far. As the vampire closed in, his mind raced to look for a way out.
Like a predator, she straddled him, her immense strength overpowered the Freikorpsman's attempts to kick her away. "Let's see what's underneath that helmet." She smiled. A clawed hand reached and cut the straps holding his helmet on. She tossed the piece of equipment, advanced in its own right aside. Perelli's radio, helmet cam and optics went with it.
As soon as his wrecked ballistic mask came off, the vampire stopped in surprise. She looked upon his face with shock that quickly became anger. Perelli did the same.
"You!" They said simultaneously. Perelli more shock, Vespera more anger.
Vespera's face immediately contorted into rage and contempt. But she didn't move. They were both frozen in place. Perelli knew this vampire could tear his guts out on a whim. To Vespera, this was the same Rifle responsible for a nearly mortal wound, and more importantly her humiliation. And yet she could not touch him. The demon had willed her to bring this man to it alive, and now she wanted nothing more than his death. She wanted this one flayed alive on a cross with salt thrown over his body. She wanted to drink his blood and revel in his torment.
Vespera’s entire body tensed with murderous intent, her fangs bared. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I want to rip your throat out, to feel your blood spill over my hands while you beg for mercy. I want to tear you apart piece by piece, watching you scream with every cut, until there’s nothing left but agony and regret."
"Then go ahead. But I will not give you the satisfaction. I have no regrets, but that I have only this life to give for humanity." Perelli stared defiantly into the jaws of the beast. He never envisioned that he would die. Not in this life or the last. It was a personal philosophy. To fear death is to fear life. For the latter runs great risk of the former. His only regret was that he did not have a fat SEMTEX charge to detonate and take himself and this foul creature with him.
Several tense seconds passed with neither making a move, simply staring each other down.
Finally, maintaining her scowl, Vespera backed off, leaving Perelli bewildered. "My master has willed otherwise."
Perelli cocked his head suspiciously. "Your... queen?"
"No!" She snapped at him. "The thing you call a cascade. I am submitted to it."
Perelli's mind raced. He was being exposed to Vampiric inner politics. He sorely wished he was recording this. The debriefing, if he survived this encounter, would most assuredly be intense.
He recalled how the cascade had acted intelligently. He looked at the vampire accusatorily. "You summoned a demon."
Vespera grit her teeth. "It was my intention to enslave it."
Perelli balked, "You blood sucking fool! You played with powers beyond your control and you have doomed this city because of your-your pride!"
Vespera put a clawed hand to his throat. "Silence, vermin! You do not even comprehend the power of the Black Sun, much less the intricacies therein."
Perelli probed carefully, "I take it your true master has no knowledge of this?"
"My queen needn't concern herself."
"Hmph, of course. Your fucking hubris knows no bounds. What have you to gain from such recklessness?"
"Everything!" She snapped at him.
He chose to push further. If what she said was true, she wouldn't dare kill him. "You wish to usurp that queen of yours don't you?"
"Silence!"
"And what would you do with such power? After you kill her? Continue to lurk in the darkness like a wretch?"
Vespera launched into a rant, taking her claw off his neck. "Queen Salise does not comprehend grand strategy. I do. With such power I can cast aside my petty restraints. You do not know what it is like to be the executor for a Queen with no clan. The dirtiest of the dirty work with no respect. She bows to her sister's every whim, like a puppy dog afraid to be left behind. I have slain more of your kind than you would believe. And yet, she is the powerful one because of her birth right, endowed with dark arts I can only dream of and never possess. She wastes them on short-sighted schemes to free her sister. Schemes like Russia, that liquidated an entire clan just to send a message. That cascade was my ticket out of the shadows. With it I could even destroy the vaunted Queen Persephone herself. I could unite the clans and usher in a new dark age where the Black Sun reigns supreme."
Perelli took in every word. Like never before he committed information to memory feverishly, repeating them within his mind. This vampire was spilling beans that the Terra Vanguard had been after since its inception. He alone now knew who was behind Kotlin Island, and what their goal there was. If this vampiric queen intended to free Persephone that would mean an assault on Salvo itself. He had to get this intel back to the Vanguard. But he'd have to survive first.
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Marengo street, outside the Vanecia high-rise, was crowded with activity when the vampire convoy arrived. The fire had burned itself out. The high-rise was burnt from the mid-point on up. Exposed and blackened metal frames jutted outward. The shadows created by streetlamps, gave it an eerie presence. The pavement had been cleared of debris. Gangsters assembled in the hundreds. The tattooed members of the Gumi and members of the other conquered gangs of L.A. created a wild sea of bobbing heads and shouting. Worst among the sea of thieves and murderers were the traitors. Two-thirds of the police force was present, ranging from beat cops to SWAT members. All of them were gathered in their shared desire for eternal life. Neon-lit ricers and cop cars were parked side-by-side.
The crowd parted cleanly to allow the vampiric convoy through. Two armored technicals escorted a black clad Cadillac into their midst. The first pickup received a round of shouting and applause when it opened its tailgate and four men were kicked out onto the concrete. They were marched into the middle of the road and forced to kneel next to each other.
The door of the Escalade opened and Vespera stepped out. Her skeleton guard guided Perelli. There were cheers for the vampire, which she seemed to revel in, and jeers for the Freikorpsman. He was escorted to the rest of the Rifles. He assumed he would be placed alongside them, but instead he was forced to stand in front of them.
High above them, from the ruins of the highrise, the cascade emerged. A glowing orb that contorted and folded inwards. Bright streams of energy flowed towards the center, where Sadie Harper was suspended. She looked down at them with a scowl. Her face was pale. The four Rifle's stared defiantly back. The cascade lowered her to the ground, she stood before them on the steps.
She said to them, "Murderers. You will pay for what you have done and for what you have attempted."
Perelli cocked his head. Her voice was hoarse and unnaturally rigid in its pronunciation. It did not sound human.
"You're blood will spill, and it will be used to create my army." She made a sweeping gesture to the gathered criminals. "An army of one thousand immortal vampires!" She declared.
The crowd broke into cheers and raised fists. The moment they were promised, a ritual to shake them from their mortality and imbue them with power and eternal life. Perelli took notice that Vespera was not cheering nor did she look satisfied. She even looked down to check the time impatiently, which peaked his curiosity.
He was interrupted by Sadie pointing at him. "You! You will choose."
Perelli didn't understand her. Regardless, he said, "No."
"You will choose which of your men to die first."
He stood straight and stared her down. "I refuse." He told the glowing demonic entity.
This angered it. A glowing tendril reached out like a whip. It seized him and lifted him off the ground. A second formed a flat blade-like plane at its tip and pressed against his neck. It drew blood.
"You will choose or you will die first."
He grit his teeth, unwilling to give in. But he had to. His mind carried valuable information. The kind worth liquidating an entire element for. He had to weigh the greater good against the lives of his brothers in arms. It was a position he never imagined himself in, nor one he ever desired.
But the decision was taken from him. Warrant Lance stood up. He was beaten and haggard. "I volunteer."
The demon shifted its attention. Perelli strained to look back at him. "No!" he told the pilot.
Cutup 2 look solemnly at him. "I'm not a ground-pounder, R1C. Someone needs to lead these men. I am... excess to requirements."
The demon didn't wait. The energy blade lashed out and beheaded the pilot with a clean blow. Immediately, blood spurted from the wound, but in unnatural volumes. The cascade drew out the blood from his corpse. Before it even hit the ground, his corpse was a shriveled husk. Gallons of the red substance floated into the air, where it formed a ring around Sadie. Perelli winced. Vogel and Gunman shouted in shock.
Perelli responded with indignation, "Parasitic demon! I will make you pay for that!"
The blade wheeled on him. "You can do nothing. You cannot stand against the might of Eclipsion!" it said.
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Meanwhile. At 7,000 feet
Commander (Just Commander) Johnathan "Whitty" Whitaker swayed in his seat as his assault Foxhound endured a bumpy ride above a thick cloud layer. Dark cumulus clouds had formed over Los Angeles just as the first wave of the 1st Airborne brigade, the "Stormriders", began to form up for a combat drop into the city. Fifty Foxhounds in five flights formed up in V formations. Forty standard variants carried the bulk of the Stormriders while another ten were heavily-laden assault versions that were designated for close air support.
They were the advanced element, three hundred and eighty-nine Rifle's being sent in ahead of the main force to secure landing zones for the large landing craft coming in behind them. The goal of the larger operation was to establish control of the city from the waterfront to the desert while simultaneously engaging the cascade with overwhelming force. Whitty's force would be facing overwhelming odds until the Kestrels landed with light armor and heavy weapons teams.
They were 3 minutes away from their scheduled drop time when the commander was interrupted by his XO tapping on his shoulder and handing him a datapad. The screen showed live footage from one of Iron Heart's drones. It was flying just under the clouds, providing them with high quality reconnaissance imagery. The XO briefed him. "They have prisoners. Four of the Freikorps by the looks of it. They just executed one. Probably about to execute the rest."
The commander glanced at his watch. Two minutes thirty seconds. He told his XO, "Inform Iron Heart Actual, we are commencing early."
The officer nodded. Commander Whitty addressed the unit. "All units, all units. This is Stormrider Actual. Enemy is executing prisoners. Let's let them know we are here. Queue PSYOP plan 3. Begin descent. Let's go Stormriders!"
There was a series of terse acknowledgements and a few battlecrys. "Let's go, Stormriders!" as fifty Foxhounds dipped their right wing in unison to slip below the cloud layer. As they did so, they ignited their navigation lights. A red light on the port winglet, green on the starboard and a white light on the tail. Normally, this was against protocol but their airspace was uncontested. In this case, it enhanced the shock factor of fifty combat aircraft descending on the city.
"The Trooper, sir?" Someone asked the commander. He gave that Rifle an admonishing look.
"Negative. We play classical music in this outfit, son. Ride of the Valkyries, as per tradition." he ordered.
"Yes, Sir."
As the Foxhounds dipped their right wings in unison and ignited their navigation lights, the atmosphere shifted with an electric intensity. The aircraft sliced through the cloud layer, revealing the sprawling city below, and the sound of their engines crescendoed into a powerful roar that resonated with authority.
"Pop flares!" Whitty ordered. Each aircraft lit off a series of angelic white flares that burst forth from their launchers like shooting stars. The brilliant lights illuminated the twilight sky, creating a dazzling display that contrasted sharply against the gathering darkness. As the flares ascended, they erupted in a soft glow, casting a radiant halo around each Foxhound. The brilliant luminescence spread out in a graceful arc, transforming the night into a surreal tableau of light. The flares drifted slowly, hanging momentarily in the air before beginning their descent, leaving behind trails of shimmering silver and gold.
Then, the unmistakable classical strains of Richard Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries" burst forth from the large speakers on every aircraft. The music soared like the war cries of ancient warriors, infusing the air with a sense of impending doom. The iconic melody steeled the resolve of the pilots and their cargo, echoing their resolve as they descended upon the burning city like avenging angels.
"Prepare for engagement!" the commander shouted over the din, his voice a rallying cry against the backdrop of Wagner's composition. 398 HR-15s cocked and locked, a round in their chambers. As the Valkyries' ride reached its climax, so too did the resolve of the Stormriders, each pilot steeling themselves for the battle ahead. They were not merely flying into conflict; they were embracing their fate, the embodiment of power and determination, as they charged into the heart of the storm.
-------------------------------------------
Perelli looked skyward as flares lit up the darkness. As did the entire crowd. Even the cascade was distracted.
"The rats come to vanquish the love of our eternity!" Sadie declared. "Assemble yourselves! Fight against the slaves of light and secure your futures!" she spurred them forth. The crowd yelled a mighty war cry. "Accept the gifts of Eclipsion and fear not death!" As she said this, the circle of blood began to flow outwards into the gathered criminals. Its tendrils lingered among them and then spread out like vines. Many appeared unsure at this sequence of events. Their uncertainty was overcome when the blood entered them. Some entered through the mouth or nose, some vines penetrated directly into the recipients chests in a disturbing and macabre display. They convulsed as vampiric magic flowed within them, changing their physiology. Many screamed at the painful mutation.
But then, the screaming stopped all at once. With complete obedience they looked towards their master. "Go!" She told them. The crowd dispersed into the city to fight the Vanguard landing force.
Sadie turned her attention back to Perelli. He was smiling. "Death is here for you, demon." he spat. "You will know fear."
Eclipsion laughed back. "It is you who will know fear. Send your armies, your tanks, your bombs and your many baubles. You will be their downfall."
Perelli stopped smiling. The cascade warped more intensely. His body was already fatigued from pain, but now it began anew, more intense than anything he had ever felt in life or death. He felt like he was being ripped from his own flesh. He couldn't tell if he was screaming or not. Before his eyes, a blue-ish energy was being drawn from his body. It thrashed and fought against the cascade that sought to drag it out. His soul was being ripped from his body.
"Your soul will be the gateway that allows me to bring forth the full might of the Black Sun!" She told him. "You world will burn!"
He tried to hold on. We willed to hold his body together. His soul was almost drawn completely from his body. Vogel and Gunman fought their captors, trying to interrupt the ritual, but were held back. Vespera watched with wide eyes but kept turning her head, expecting something. As the intense scene unfolded, she melted into the darkness, disappearing.
The pain was excruciating. Perelli felt like he was being ripped apart at the atomic level. As only the barest wisp of his soul clung to his body, he began to see a light. A light he had seen before. But this was not the light that had greeted him to the afterlife amongst the trees of the Argonne. It was too yellow. It was accompanied by a screeching noise that grew in volume. Then an explosion.
Perelli was dropped by the cascade's tendrils as the fiery explosion of an anti-tank guided missile detonated above the cascade. The force threw him backwards. Rubble and debris filled the air. The cascade's efforts were interrupted and his soul was sent reeling back into his body like a tape measure being released. His body was thrown into the middle of the street and over the heads of the sniper team. There were more explosions.
They took advantage of the chaos and their distracted guards. Gunman wheeled quickly against the gangster that held him down. He kicked the man behind the knee and he crumpled. Then he placed his cuffed hands together and brought them down on his dead, knocking him out cold and likely causing a skull fracture.
Vogel did similarly, headbutting his capture and then wrapping his arms around his neck, choking him out.
Gunman flexed and strained against the cuffs. His muscles bulged. The plastic creaked and then eventually broke, freeing him.
"You couldn't do zat earlier?" Vogel complained.
"They had a gun to my head." The big man told him. He broke Vogel's cuffs and the two ran to Perelli's aid. His crumpled form lay limply in the street. The cascade was distracted by continued long-range attacks by two assault ships, who kept flinging ATGMs at it.
"Talk about danger fucking close!" Gunman remarked.
Gunman picked up the barely conscious R1C. Vogel appropriated weapons from their downed guards, a MAC-10 and a poorly maintained Glock 19 that he reluctantly took in lieu of no alternatives. They loaded Perelli into the bed of a technical. The cascade screeched under the continued assault. They threw the truck in reverse and quickly backed away from the scene.
Gunman drove while Vogel tended to Perelli. He was barely conscious and was bobbing his head deliriously. Blood was coming from his eyes and nose. "We need to call a MEDEVAC. Do you still have your radio?"
"Uh," he looked around the interior. "Yes! Hey, our kits are still in here." He picked up his helmet and tossed it to his spotter.
They accelerated around turns, putting distance between them and the cascade. Just when they thought that they were in the clear, the ground began to shake.