Objective Dodger
Thirty-two men. That’s how many Rifles Weber had left. A few were walking wounded who stubbornly refused to be MEDEVAC’d out when the Foxhounds were still coming in. That had stopped when the fighting reached a crescendo. Now that the cascade was right in front of them, it was an impossibility. At least he now had the two LAVs. Pissing in the wind, for all the good they would do.
There was some relief, as the thralls were no more. Charlie and Echo’s flanks were secured as the remnants of the enemy combatants were scattered into the day. Running out of steam, their assault faltered just as they breached the stadium walls, and what was left of their ranks were outshot by what was left of the Vanguard. Weber couldn’t appreciate it, not as he stared down a demon-made-manifest threatening his position. His soldiers were ready. They all looked down their sights at the insurmountable occult being.
He didn’t need to give any orders. Silently, he looked up at the cascade, pointed two fingers forward, and all hell broke loose.
Everyone opened fire at once. High-explosive .30-06 mixed with tube-launched 40mm grenades and 30mm projectiles. All were shrugged off by the energy tendrils that moved with lightning speed to intercept them. The being at the center smiled at their pitiful resistance. A tendril swept across the closest ranks with the precision and grace of a farmer’s scythe. It cut cleanly through concrete and steel cover. The slow were killed outright, beheaded or bisected by the blade that burned and melted all it touched. The quick were singed as the front or back of their combat armor was superheated by close contact with the blade. They survived, but hydration bladders exploded as their contents instantly vaporized. Ammunition pouches exploded when their contents touched off. Men screamed from searing burns.
In one fell swoop, a dozen Rifles were removed from the battle line. The screams of the wounded filled the air. But none were deterred. The survivors leapfrogged backwards, never letting the demon go a moment without being suppressed. Heavy weapons teams moved onto the flanks and fired anti-tank rockets in a crisscross pattern. The cascade lashed out, cutting supports and bringing down the infrastructure they used to gain their vantage points.
A second scythe was readied and swept farther afield, directly into the side of an LAV. The vehicle was saved by its explosive reactive armor. The disposable panels nullified the cutting effect, saving the lightly armored vehicle. The force was still enough to send the eight-wheeler skidding sideways across the grass, crashing into the side of its counterpart.
The other LAV didn’t take the assault on its sister lightly. The cap of a vertical ATGM launcher popped off, and a top-down-attack missile was sent skyward. It arced steeply and came down directly on top of the cascade. The shaped-charge warhead detonated prematurely, but the massive explosion rocked the stadium. The cascade readied another scything blow. The crew of the LAV charged gallantly forward. The wheels spun as the driver floored the accelerator. The heavy vehicle charged up the mound of debris, firing all the way. The driver even had the flare to lay on the horn. All 15 tons crashed headlong into the demon.
Weber was in awe. The cascade arrested the LAV’s forward momentum but was forced several steps backward. Its tires spun, kicking up debris. The driver fishtailed, causing the vehicle to sway back and forth like a boxer, making it difficult for the cascade to resist. The engine revved, and then the whole vehicle exploded. Superheated tentacles stabbed into the hull like a pair of thrusting swords. They entered through the belly and exited through the turret. The ammunition touched off and the entire vehicle burst like a grenade. The burning hulk was thrown backwards down onto the infield
"Take cover!"
The hull landed on the field upside down, with Rifles scattering to avoid the hulk. From there, the fight devolved into a melee. Tentacles whipped out into the Vanguard’s ranks, targeting Rifles individually. Despite the horror of the situation, Weber couldn’t help but feel a sense of sheer fucking pride. Despite the horrors in their midst, his men conducted themselves as professional warriors. They covered each other expertly, pulled wounded to safety, and, when the enemy came too close, they treated it to the tip of their bayonets and died standing. Many met gruesome ends. A combat frame was grabbed and stretched between two tentacles that picked it up by its hands and feet. They twisted the metal android like a wet rag until it came apart into a thousand pieces. Weber shuddered, glad it wasn’t a human being in their grasp.
Like a snake, one slithered aggressively toward Weber. It came on so fast he didn’t have time to swap his empty magazine, so he threw the useless HR-15. The tendril caught it in its coil; the polymer and metal framework bent and melted. He drew his sidearm, firing wildly as he retreated behind the remaining LAV. Its guns had fallen silent. The cascade’s wrathful appendages ripped the crew apart on the inside.
He dragged a discarded radio set toward him. He prepared to send a final message. Whatever command was planning, it would no doubt happen soon. This is where he would die. He connected the device to his own helmet comms so that he could access the wider battlenet.
"This is Chief Rifle Klaus Weber, Stormriders First Airborne Brigade! Let’s go!" He shouted into the mic.
He prepared to meet his end. And he waited. The din of battle began to fade into quiet. Curious, he rounded the corner of the LAV with pistol raised and beheld the battlefield.
Standing directly before him was the shimmering and fluctuating form of the cascade, with the individual hosting it in the center. Weber was stunned. It gave off an unpleasant energy, and it was hard to look directly at. An ethereal sense of dread turned his blood to ice just being in its presence. He looked around him. To his amazement, it hadn’t killed everybody it got its tentacles on. Though a large number of his men lay shattered in pools of their own blood, but an equal number were simply being restrained by the glowing tentacles—either pressed against walls and piles of debris or fully coiled up by them on the ground. Most Rifles still fought stubbornly against the bonds that held them tightly, but it was a fruitless gesture.
The cascade cast its gaze upon him. "Your soul burns brightly," it said.
He pulled the trigger, but like a viper, it seized his hand and coiled around his arm. He drew his knife, but that arm was also quickly seized. The cascade lifted him off the ground. He was completely at its mercy. Another appendage curled along the brim of his helmet. It disengaged his ballistic mask and ripped it off his head, exposing his stern but soft features.
"If you're going to kill me, get it over with!" he shouted, struggling against his bonds.
The cascade studied him. "Your machinations fail you. Your men melt before the might of my weakest abilities."
Weber replied with indignation, "So what, we're not worth the good stuff, eh? Came to monologue to me just about how pitiful we are?"
"Yes. The slave needs to know his place."
"I am no slave! I am a freed man. I came here from the afterlife of my own volition to stop the likes of you, those who would threaten mankind's destiny. Mark my words, you will know true death, demon! Now kill me and send me back!"
The cascade chuckled predatorially. "When I'm done with you, there will be nothing left to send back to the light. Eternity does not await you, slave. Oblivion does."
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Weber steeled himself for what he expected to come next. He held his chin high and defiantly, refusing to show the abomination a modicum of fear.
"Put the man down!" a voice shouted from behind the cascade.
Sadie wheeled around violently, perturbed by the interruption. Behind her was a Rifle in armor unlike anything Weber had ever seen. Unlike standard Rifle armor or the Freikorps' beefed-up version of the RAT, it was sleeker and exuded authority. Instead of a full ballistic facemask, the helmet was a flat black metal surface. Contours in the surface indicated the placement of small, yet powerful sensors. Instead of the usual black and red digi-camo, it was matte black. There were powered joints connecting the limbs. Weber couldn’t help but be a little jealous despite his current predicament. He had to carry his 85 lbs of armor around without powered assistance.
The black-clad Rifle bore no unit insignia. Only the Vanguard seal emblazoned on the right shoulder plate. What stood out most was the shield he carried. It was the modern equivalent of a great shield, as tall and as wide as he was. The Vanguard seal, once proudly emblazoned on the front had been hastily scratched off and replaced with a series intricate runes. They were as hard to look at as the cascade itself. They glowed brightly in its presence. But unlike the wild and chaotic energy of the cascade, the light coming from the runes was organized and angelic. As the strange Rifle approached, the cascade shrunk and recoiled, reviled by the runes on his shield.
"In morte, umbra fracta!" The Rifle inched closer, slowly. The tentacles of the cascade reached out to strike at him in a flurry of blows, but as they got close to the shield, they faded and disappeared entirely. Weber was dropped by the two keeping him suspended.
"Release my men." The Rifle said calmly and authoritatively, his voice amplified by the speaker in his helmet. The entire cascade convulsed.
"Lux intercedit, animam ferox domet!"
Sadie doubled over in pain, her body beginning to convulse. She screamed as the words spoken by the Rifle began to sever her connection to Eclipsion. Being severed from his love was a pure and excruciating pain. The roads the demon had dug into her mind were ripped out one by one, waking her up from her delusion.
"Daemonium sine cor, sine vita!" The Rifle continued. The energy of the cascade washed over his shield and armor. Superheated plasma caused the composite titanium structure of the armor and shield to glow orange, but the runes remained defiant as their light clashed with the power of the demonic entity.
"Vincere tuo, abyssum tuum!"
Sadie went limp. The cascade disconnected from her body. It's energy spun like a hurricane, back into the vortex form it had taken in the mayor's apartment, but she was still suspended in its grasp. Disconnected from Eclipsion, her mind went blank and her body limp. A cold, like lightning, ran through her entire body.
Weber was in awe at was taking place before him; the excising of a demon in full form. He was too stunned to get up after being dropped.
"Kill it!" The mysterious Rifle shouted at him. He struggling to against the waves of energy that flowed over him. Flecks of molten material were beginning to flake off of the shield. Weber realized he still had his pistol and knife in his hands.
"How!?" Weber shouted in confusion. The weapons were a futile gesture if anything.
"She's vulnerable! Shoot her!"
Weber placed his sights over the girl, center mass. He pulled the trigger, again and again. He emptied the entire mag. Bullets pierced Sadie's side and the cascade was powerless to interfere. She was dropped from its grasp and fell several feet to the ground. The cascade itself began to distort into oblong shapes before finally dissipating into a short-lived jet of flame that shot upwards like the exhaust from a jet engine. When the flame subsided, it was gone.
Weber ran up to her, pistol raised. She still might have been a threat, but without the cascade surrounding her she just looked like a ragged young woman. She was still conscious. Her skin was covered in scars and her veins bulged from the sudden disconnection from the demon. Blood poured from her side where Weber had shot her. After only a moments hesitation, he started putting pressure on the wound. "Medic!"
He had shot her eleven times. He knew she wasn't going to make it. But he could tell from the look in her eyes, that she was just another victim of the barbarism of the vampires. She spoke, every word was labored, "I just wanted... to... save the world."
Weber's eyes met hers. His expression was stone. "So do all of us."
The consciousness faded into nothing and her body went limp. Weber lifted his bloody hands from the wound, a slight tremble to them.
The black Rifle approached, his armor clinking as the material contracted from the lack of heat. Molten slag dripped from the shield and his armor. The runes light faded slowly. As their light faded, so too did the runes themselves until they disappeared entirely. He looked at the body, studying it.
Weber looked up at him. "Who are you?"
"Classified." He said in monotone.
He turned on his heel and left a confused Weber behind. As he walked away, a Foxhound came in for a landing. It only touched down long enough for the strange Rifle to climb aboard, then it lifted off again.
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Aboard the Foxhound, Leader-Commander Tambor removed his helmet with a sharp motion. The singed piece of armor clattered to the deck, still smoking as it hit the metal surface. He ran a shaky hand through his sweat-slicked hair, his face weary with exhaustion. Across from him, Lieutenant Camilla sat, her eyes focused on her datapad.
"Brief me," Tambor said, his voice low and tired.
Camilla didn’t hesitate. Her eyes flicked over the screen as she spoke with precision. "The amphib has arrived. Elements of the Fourth Armored are disembarking now. Vanguard forces hold all major and tertiary objectives, with maximum enemy casualties. The First Airborne has fully landed and is currently scouring the city for the remnants of the vampiric forces. The sea monster has been confirmed dead. Radiation readings are negligible, but we’ve cordoned off an exclusion zone around the corpse. The Cry Havoc is en route, and the enemy incursion on the island has been defeated. Casualties on our end were higher than acceptable, but comparatively light."
"What of the convoy that was attacked?" Tambor asked, his tone still grim.
Camilla hesitated for only a second. "Queen Salene is confirmed dead. Persephone, however, has escaped. We’re not sure how."
"Damn that AI," Tambor growled, his fists tightening around the armrests. Periscope had gotten several Rifles killed with that stunt. He wasn’t sure yet how, but that robot would pay. Persephone would be found again and killed, that was inevitable. He angrier about the loss of life. That AI was far too sociopathic for his liking. Some of his anger was directed back at himself. After all, he had made a cold and calculated decision himself just hours ago. "Continue."
"The United States government has launched a formal protest against our actions," Camilla continued, her voice steady. "But they have not vowed retaliation, nor have they taken any formal steps to disbar us. They seem to be in disarray. The President is…"
"Pissed?" Tambor interrupted with a wry, dark humor.
"Yes. But he seems to recognize the necessity of our actions. Congress, however, is another matter. There was talk of a declaration of war, but it seems to have stalled. The President demands another in-person meeting as soon as possible—right now, if possible."
Tambor’s brow furrowed. "Not possible. I have to go back to Salvo. There are..." He glanced at the spot where the runes on the shield had been. "...actions that I must answer for. Tell him, two days from now."
Camilla pursed her lips and nodded in agreement. "Yes, sir. Also, the 1st MEU out of Camp Pendleton has mobilized. They’ll be in L.A. tomorrow. We don't know how confrontational they'll be."
Tambor nodded absently, his thoughts already shifting. "Have Dewitt and Whitaker handle the specifics on the ground. When I return from the United States, gather High Command. Mandatory meeting. We need to strategize."
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Iron Heart
R1C Perelli jolted awake, his body aching as he tried to sit up, only to immediately regret the motion. A sharp, fiery pain surged through his torso. He was in the Iron Heart's medbay. Every muscle he tested screamed in protest. When he tried to open his left eye, he found it stuck shut.
A corpsman, noticing his sudden wakefulness, hurried over to his side. "Oy, take it easy. You’ve got multiple broken ribs, and you’re recovering from internal bleeding. Also, you’ve got a nasty laceration on your left eye," she said in a thick Scottish accent.
Perelli complied. You never argue with medics. It's just something you don't do. He glanced up at her while she adjusted his IV. "My squad. Where are they?"
"Not your concern," she began, but Perelli couldn’t let it go.
He seized her arm with surprising force, ignoring the wave of pain that shot through him. "Is my fucking squad alive?" he demanded, his voice low but urgent. The corpsman didn’t flinch. She was as tough as they came, and she didn’t let his grip rattle her.
"They’re alive, R1C," she answered firmly, her tone softening just slightly. His grip relaxed, and he let go. "Sorry."
"It’s okay," she said with a sigh, a rare flicker of empathy in her eyes. "I understand how it is. Your squadmates are in the ICU. They’re more banged up than you, but they’ll live."
Perelli nodded, the tension easing just a fraction. "Thank you."
She saluted briskly and left him alove. But then, a voice, faint and eerily calm, cut through the air.
"It’s all your fault, you know?"
Perelli shot upright again, his heart hammering as he scanned the room. But there was no one there. The medbay was empty, the only sound the soft hum of machinery.