The sleek form of an E/R-39 Screecher thundered through the clouds over the Baltic Sea. The craft had a thin hull, but a wide wingspan with plentiful munition hardpoints. Twin engines pushed the aircraft along at Mach 0.9. The pilot, Captain James Bush gripped the stick in the cockpit. His helmet's HUD, alongside a plethora of gauges and meters on his instrument panel, told him everything about his aircraft. The Screecher was a multirole attack aircraft that could do almost anything that was asked of it with some modifications. Bush's Screecher was currently configured for SEAD, Suppression of Enemy Air Defense. Two bulbous electronic-warfare pods hung from the innermost hardpoints, and on either side of them were six anti-radiation missiles; designed to home in on and destroy hostile radar transmitters.
It was early morning and the sun was just starting to rise in the East. His EW pods, affectionately known as "Sniffers", picked up multiple RADAR emitters east of his position in the vicinity of Kotlin island. He scanned the data and determined that he was at the extreme edge of their sensor range. From this he was able to deduce a number of things: one, the enemy was radiating continuously without regard for their own detection, two, they were amateurs because while he might be inside their sensor range, he was not inside their engagement range. He would have plenty of time to detect and evade their missiles while lighting off his own in response. This mission was going to be a cake walk.
The AWACS aircraft notified him, "Magic 2-1, this is Longbow. Be advised, Wizard flight has encountered hostile triple-A, two-zero nautical miles south of expected enemy lines. Expect enemy positions in your sector to shift accordingly, over."
"Longbow, Magic 2-1, Copy. Sniffer has detected hostile RADAR emissions bearing zero-nine-nine, east of my position. Preparing to engage with HAARMs, over."
The AWACS replied, "Longbow copies all. You are cleared hot on hostile radar sites. Use Caution, flak and active SAMs reported in that sector, over."
Bush was gung-ho and feeling it. "Longbow, Roger. Engaging with HAARM. Going silent comms until splash, over."
Captain Bush toggled his weapons to active, prompting the seekers to begin acquiring targets using the data fed to them by his aircraft. His HUD highlighted the estimated positions of the enemy RADAR sites. If he could take out the enemy radars, their surface-to-air missiles would be useless, and he'd have achieved his mission of plowing the road for the follow-on forces behind him. The HAARMs locked onto the radar signals. A strong buzz emitted from his headset, reporting missiles ready.
"Magic 2-1, Fox Three! HAARMs away!"
Three missiles streaked off their rails and burned hard into the horizon. The long range missiles temporarily broke the sound barrier during their boost phase, as a solid-fuel rocket booster pushed them most of the way to the target before separating from the main body of the missile. Once in the terminal phase of flight, the missile could maneuver and dodge interceptors as it homed in on its target. Bush tasked one missile to each target. The radar operators realized too late and didn't shut off their transmitters in time. The HAARMs streaked in and pulverized the systems, rendering entire missile batteries useless. Bush received confirmation of hits as various radar sites fell off of his scope, terminated by his missiles. He pulled up and brought his aircraft along a different track, bringing more batteries into range. He fired off three more missiles, all eventually hitting their intended targets.
"Lights out, you bastards." he muttered, then clicked on his radio. "Longbow, Magic 2-1. Splash six enemy radar installations. I have no active transmitters on my scope at this time. Hostile radar capabilities destroyed. Remaining on station to provide Echo-Whiskey spoofing, over."
AWACS Longbow congratulated him, "Magic 2-1, good hits. Longbow copies all. Out." The air combat controller on the AWACS aircraft received similar reports from other EW aircraft under his control. Satisfied at their results, he switched frequencies. "All units, all units, this is Longbow. Phase 2 complete. Commence Operation Bullhorn. Execute, execute, execute!"
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The 123rd Freikorps had inserted onto Kotlin Island in the dead of night. Stealthed Foxhound VTOLs infiltrated occupied airspace and slipped in under the sensor systems that had been taken over by the vampires. The four gunships landed, offloaded the special operations Rifles and departed as quietly as they had come. The Shark Eaters deployed alongside elements of the 100th Freikorps, the "Piledrivers". As soon as their boots touched solid dirt, they broke into squads and spread out across the island. This was to provide maximum coverage, as their task was to degrade enemy defensive capability and gather intelligence ahead of the main landing force.
R2C Mike Perelli and his squad leader R2C Sarah Kinger were now part of the command squad. They were to escort and assist the commander of phase 1 of the operation, Lieutenant Walker. Additionally, they were joined by an intelligence spook from the ISR division. He refused to give a name and said to only refer him by his callsign, "Snake Eyes". For a cloak and dagger operator with an edgy name, he was a very skinny man who wore thick rimmed glasses underneath his ballistic faceplate. Perelli didn't like him. The spook was condescending and talked to them like they were children.
The command squad infiltrated further into the island, but avoided any enemy positions. Once in an optimal position for observation, a wooded hill overlooking the main town, they set up a small TOC (Tactical Operations Center). From there, Lieutenant Walker coordinated the efforts of the 123rd and 100th. In contrast to his jovial nature off the field, the El-Tee was all business while in it. He stayed on his radio the entire time, never stopping to speak to Perelli or Kinger. Occasionally, he'd consult Snake Eyes. Only a few hours into the operation, he had worn through two entire steno pads as he recorded and relayed tactical information about the disposition of enemy forces and efforts by individuals to sabotage enemy infrastructure. The vampires had taken everything. They had armed themselves from the bases armories and had coopted a significant number of armored vehicles, SAM sites and fixed fortifications. They were primarily holed up in the town of Kronstadt and the adjacent naval base, leaving the forested western half of the island untouched.
The reconnaissance units had collected significant data about the vampiric invasion of Kotlin island. There were over a dozen full-fledged vampires on the island. They were joined by an estimated 3 dozen thralls. Thralls were the vampire's personal servants. They would be granted immortality and some paranormal abilities in exchange for an eternity of total devotion to their dark lords. Most vampires would have 2 or more thralls. Having large numbers of dedicated thralls was considered a sign of high status. None of the vampires had been visually confirmed yet, but tracking the number of thralls gave them a rough estimate to the number of vampires present. They were joined by hundreds of human cultists. The ones on the island were primarily from the steppes, but phenotypes from all over Europe had been identified; suggesting that recruitment for this attack had been far reaching.
Of much concern was the nature of the attack. Small scale hit-and-run attacks, usually to steal things and feed, were the most common vampiric attacks. They were usually conducted in isolated areas, but sometimes spilled into more urban environments. Never before had the fang-faces attacked a military facility; much less, a strategic naval port belonging to one of the world's superpowers. And then stayed to occupy the location. This attack was brazen. The vampires displayed an unprecedented level of organization and aggression, challenging all prior assumptions about their capabilities and intentions. It was a clear escalation with uncertain implications. For people like Lieutenant Walker, however, it didn't matter. A 1000lb pound bomb here, a cruise missile there; he'd wipe the vampiric from the face of the Earth one at a time.
Perelli and Kinger provided overwatch while their officer worked. They were both under camouflaged netting at opposite ends of their TOC. They were on their bellies in the mud, scanning for hostiles. Perelli was finally kitted out in the official modified armor of the 123rd. He now had a thick armored plate mounted to the chest of his armor and his shoulders. His helmet was the same, but had a larger suite of optics and sensors mounted to it; plus the shark mouth tint on his ballistic mask's visor. On his back, in addition to his pack, he carried a small fold-up quadcopter with surprisingly powerful optics for its weight. But it wasn't just for reconnaissance. The small drone carried a fragmenting warhead under its fuselage and was intended to be used as a loitering munition, to hit sensitive targets. Currently, Kinger's own drone was deployed and circling their position at high altitude, providing greater situational awareness. They operated in cycles. When Kinger's drone ran low on battery, it would return to her to recharge while Perelli's took over.
Perelli didn't mind laying in the mud as much as he did being idle. Spring was just around the corner and the sky was cloudy grey. The air was coo and the trees had not regained their spring foliage yet. It was a calm and oddly pleasant. What Perelli didn't like was being stuck on guard duty. Several times they had had enemy patrols pass close by tot their position, but they couldn't do anything about them lest they reveal theemselves. So far, none of the Freikorps squads had been detected.
In the corner of his HUD, the Rifle watched the drone feed that overlooked their position. There was another patrol approaching. Perelli observed them. It was two cultists and a thrall. The cultists wore mismatched tactical gear. It appeared as though they didn't know or didn't care how to wear it properly. One wore bottoms and boots belonging to an infantryman, but wore no shirt, just an ill-fitting tactical vest. His arms were branded with various malign symbols. The other was properly dressed but wore a policeman's cap. Both carried AKs and ammunition. The thrall was the only one properly dressed, but not in tactical gear. His pale and bone-thin frame was draped in a cheap grey suit. He appeared in charge and while the other two slogged through the mud, he waked calmly and without a care.
For a brief moment, Perelli was concerned, as their path would have taken them directly over his position. He placed his thumb over the safety of his HR-15, but didn't flick it off. A brief radio report was broadcast over their secure comms channel. He looked up and saw as trails of fire came streaking through the morning sky and came down on the naval base. Marked radar sites, missile batteries and defensive positions were simultaneously hit with long range munitions; from HAARMs to cruise missiles. The ground shook from the distant explosions. The two cultists and thrall hurried back down the hill, away from them. Perelli sighed.
"R2C," Lieutenant Walker called him "Kill them."
Perelli clicked acknowledgement while flicking off his safety. In under a second he had reacquired the cultists. They were moving down the hill in singe-file. He placed his reticle over their chest and fired a high-explosive round into the center of the back of the trailing man. His torso exploded into gore and bone. Chunks of his ribs were blown out of his chest at such velocity that they impacted the man in front of him. The bone shards acted like shrapnel and killed him as quick as the first man as his vital organs were punctured by his buddies skeletal fragments. Perelli shifted to the thrall, who had just enough time to turn toward the sound of the gunshot before Perelli buried an armor-piercing round in his head. The thrall hit the ground without 76% of his grey matter on the outside of his head.
"God damn." Walker remarked to Perelli. "That was a clean Texas double-tap, Rifle."
Perelli looked over his shoulder. The Lieutenant had been watching through a pair of binoculars . "I'm from Kansas... Sir."
"If only your sense of humor was as developed as your marksmanship. That was an excellent shot." Walker commented.
"Don't let him gaslight you. He says that to everyone." Kinger chimed in.
Snake Eyes cleared his throat. "Can we get moving, people?" he said while packing up his gear. "I need to get a closer look at the town. Hopefully, the landings draw out their leaders."
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R1C Milovovich peered over the side of the Kestrel as the landing craft flew high and in tight formation with others of its kind. Glowing tracers arced up into the formation. Some pinged off of the bottom of the landing craft. A large caliber round glanced off of the side armor right beneath him, shrapnel missing him by inches. The First-class Rifle quickly retreated back into the boat. The rest of Alpha squad was staring at him.
"I advise keeping all extremities behind cover, R1C." Said Tetsu. The armored frame was slinging a heavy machine gun. A belt of high-caliber rounds fed the weapon from a backpack. The Kilo-class combat frame was an intimidating sight.
Milo rebutted, "Just doing some recon. Y'know? Our job?." he smiled.
"Kuso na baka." Tora muttered and shook his head.
Milo jumped down for the raised siding of the kestrel and joined his team on the deck. Other Rifles were similarly lined up, waiting for the craft to land. Two IFVs were secured at the center of the deck. As the craft swayed, so did its cargo. The kestrel shuddered rapidly as the pilot deployed flares and chaff to ward off incoming missiles.
"I thought this zone was clear?" Said Kurt, as a surface-to-air missile the size of a telephone pole streaked behind them and detonated in the cloud of chaff trailing the kestrel. The entire landing craft shook violently, causing some to fall to their knees.
"There's always something." Milo said.
"30 seconds!" the pilot called out. The kestrel was descending rapidly now, giving everyone a feeling of weightlessness. Sentry guns descended form their alcoves and began picking out targets on the ground. The rapid-firing machineguns didn't have to wait long. Their chatter filled the air as they began raking exposed enemies on the ground. Once the kestrel was only a few meters off the deck, 40mm smoke launchers popped open and shot smoke grenades into the forest ahead of the landing zone. The ships were landing at the western most edge of Kotlin island. Once on the ground, the footsloggers would fight through the forest and on into the small town of Kronstadt, there the main vampiric concentration was hold up. The Vanguard was expecting a hard fight. Reconnaissance photos showed that the vampires, their thralls and baseline human cultists had stayed to occupy the naval base. Said photos also detailed various barbaric acts being perpetrated by the blood drinkers. The order of the day was "No hesitation. No quarter."
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
The engines flared just before the kestrel hit the ground. Mud and loose tree branches were stirred up by the jet wash. The landing ramp was released and slammed down into a muddy puddle. A green light illuminated at the head of the craft followed by a loud bell, the signal to go.
The first IFV was enthusiastic, too enthusiastic. The armored vehicle's tracks squealed and showered everyone in sparks as the driver accelerated so hard that the tracks struggled for purchase on the metal deck. The vehicle did move forward, however. It climbed over the inclined hump in the ship's hull before the ramp and slammed down into the dirt. The first troops off were showered in muddy water. The IFV was closely followed by the second. Their diesels howl was joined by battlecrys as Rifle's ran down the ramp.
Alpha squad was towards the back of the departing group. The first off were Rifles in heavy assault armor, followed by regulars. The lightly-armored recon troops were last. Tetsu took the lead, his heavy metal frame providing cover for the fleshy Rifles. As soon as they were on the ground, they were taking fire. It was sporadic and low-intensity. Tetsu lit up the trees. The frame was strong and balanced enough to fire the heavy machinegun from the hip and still lay down accurate suppressive fire. Several rounds pinged of his metal chassis. Tora, Kurt and Milo followed at a distance, not wanting to provide the enemy with a conveniently bunched up target.
Tetsu advanced to the edge of the treeline and set up the machinegun on a fallen tree trunk. The rest of Alpha trickled in behind him and pressed their backs against the cover. Enemy fire had slackened as cultists retreated into the woods.
"That was easy." Kurt said, optimistic.
"No it wasn't." Milo admonished him. "That was ash n' trash to make sure we don't feel welcome, and gauge our strength. They've probably prepared a nice overlapping ambush somewhere due East." He consulted the map in his HUD. Enemy troop concentrations marked by the Freikorps were populated on it. Along with estimated disposition of their assets.
Chief Laramie called out to Milo from a small incline to Alpha's left. "R1C, get on it!" he said to him and sent Milo orders for a general advance eastward.
Milo acknowledged. "Let's go recon!" he said to his squad and vaulted the tree trunk. They were quick to follow.
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The command squad stalked carefully towards Kronstadt. The island was now covered in a smoky haze as fires burned from the fighting. Gunfire could be heard behind them as mechanized and motorized units landed on the western side of the island. The smoke was a double-edged sword. Their thermals allowed them to see thralls and human opponents more prominently, but they could not detect vampires. Their cold bodies were undetectable, and in low-vis like this, a decently stealthy one could easily sneak up on them.
It was chaos across the island as Friekorps squads began taking overt actions against the enemy. Communications lines were severed and defensive fortifications blown by saboteurs. Cultists who thought themselves to be well concealed were rudely awakened as their positions were destroyed piecemeal by the operators.
Perelli was on point, rifle raised. He was frustrated by the reduced range that the smoke forced him to engage at. Several times, him and Kinger stopped to snipe at hostiles that had been caught out in the open. They couldn't see the Rifles, but the Rifles could see them. But it was only a matter of time before a blood sucker showed up,.
They came up on a GAZ Tiger armored truck. It was stopped in the middle of a road. The vehicle had sustained heavy damage. The rear half had been blow away by a near miss from an Air-to-ground missile. The driver was missing, but the passenger was still inside, sort of. Her body hung out of the window, limp. Cautiously, Kinger and Perelli approached the vehicle with weapons raised. Perelli checked the corpse, finding no pulse. But that didn't mean anything these days. He drew his knife and slit its throat, just to be sure. He examined the body more closely. One of the woman's arms was charred beyond recognition, but the other was intact. He held it to examine the markings on it. There were branding scars, tattoos and amateur-cut symbols all up and down the limb. He held it out. "Spook, got someth-" The ISR agent was already at his side. He quickly took the arm from Perelli.
Perelli stood back. "Don't get too excited." he muttered. Kinger shared a sympathetic glance.
Snake Eyes studied the limb closely. He made sure his helmet cam saw every piece. "Overlord, you're getting this?" he asked. He received an affirmative that the operational command post aboard the sky-carrier Iron Heart was seeing what he was seeing.
He turned to Lieutenant Walker. "Markings are inconsistent. Just like the rest we've been seeing."
"So, it's a new clan, we're dealing with?" Walker asked.
"Inconclusive." Snake Eyes said, "But they are highly fanatical, that is for sure."
Walker frowned. They didn't know exactly who they were fighting here. That left significant intelligence gaps in other areas, like what to expect when they eventually drew out the pure-strain vampires in the town.
The ISR continued to converse with analysts aboard the sky-carrier. Perelli switched through different optic filters on his helmet while studying the surrounding area. He noticed a trail behind the Tiger. It was hard to make out, because of the missile crater, but it appeared something had crawled out of the back of the truck and limped into the forest. He gestured for Kinger to join him. He pointed to the odd footstep/snake trail to her. "Thoughts?" he asked.
She got down on one knee and studied it closer. "Those are tracks all right. They aren't consistent with the debris field from the truck." she analyzed and looked out over the parts and panels that were scattered around. She used her rifle to point into the smoke. "Whatever it was, it went that way."
"Only one thing survives a near missile strike." Perelli said.
Kinger smirked, "Hey, El-tee, I think we got a wounded vampire nearby."
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The four followed the trail for only only a short distance before it became more pronounced and easy to follow. It led directly to the center of a wide clearing of tall grass. Then, the tracks suddenly stopped.
"What the hell?" Kinger said in frustration. The smoke had oddly cleared, but only within the clearing. The tracks stopped abruptly, with nothing else in the area to indict where the thing that made them had gone. The Rifle's fanned out, examining the area. They all faced away from the very end of the tracks while Snake Eyes examined it more closely.
"Cold trail?" Walker asked. "What do you make of it, Snake Eyes?"
There was no answer. But they heard a sudden and short gasp.
"Snake Eyes?" Walker turned to face him. "Ho-lee-sheit."
The ISR agent had a set of vampiric claws thrust through his chest and lifting him off of the ground. His head hung limp, he was already dead. The claws were were nine inches long, but the Korpsman couldn't see what they were attached to. Literally, it was transparent. All the Rifles could see was the shimmering outline of a vaguely humanoid form. The claws retracted and Snake Eyes' body fell to the ground. The shimmering form moved quickly and disappeared into the grass, chased by a burst of tracer fire from Kinger.
"Close ranks!" Walker shouted. The Rifle's all fell into a tight formation. Perelli threw his suicide drone into the air. The little drone circled overhead.
An ethereal voice spoke to them, "You have come here to die." It sounded as if it came from all around them.
"Nothing on sensors." Perelli reported. He lit up his flashlight and laser, hoping maybe they'd reflect off of their assailant. Kinger unclipped a grenade and pulled the pin. "Grenades! Saturate the area!" she threw the deadly pineapple a safe distance.
Walker and Perelli did the same. They threw two each, shrapnel cut down the tall grass. Their armor protected them from any particularly motivated fragments. After the third explosion, Perelli saw movement. "There!" he highlighted it with his laser and opened fire. A round glanced off of something unseen. They all fired bursts around where Perelli had designated. A shimmering form lunged with inhuman speed at the trio. Wicked claws reached out for R2C Perelli. He bent over backwards, like he was doing the limbo, as the claws penetrated the air where his torso had been. They came so close, that several of magazine pouches were cut open. The claws were so sharp they cut into the magazines and the cartridges inside.
The voice came again. "Your machines will not save you!"
The shimmer pressed the attack. It leapt sideways to make an attempt at Kinger. It brought its claws down on her. She countered them by putting her rifle sideways between them. The claws cut into the metal and she was forced to drop the weapon before the wicked appendages broke through its steel frame and came down on her. Lieutenant Walker opened fire. Two armor-piercing rounds would have hit it center mass. With lightning speed, it disengaged Kinger and swiped the rounds out of the air with its claws. One round was cut perfectly down the middle.
"You cannot escape the inevitable," the shimmer hissed, its voice a low, menacing growl.
Perelli had fallen on his ass after dodging the claw attack. He stayed on his back and strained to fire his rifle while upside down. He missed. The creature ducked and rolled forwards toward Walker while he changed magazines. The next thing that happened, did so in slow motion. The figure jumped up, claws extended, its momentum carrying it down onto the lieutenant. It was about to eviscerate him. But it had over committed.
"Fffuck no." Walker denied his certain death. The lieutenant drew his .500 S&W revolver from his chest holster. The muzzle was angled so that it was pointing up right beneath where the vampires jaw was. It was the only target he could acquire in the 1/10th of a second he had before he was cut to pieces. He pulled the trigger and the big weapon boomed. A massive slug flew directly up through the bottom of the monsters jaw and up into its cranium. The shimmering effect halted, revealing it to be a an ordinary looking man; except it had pale skin and was baring ferocious fangs as it came down on the lieutenant. The figures momentum still caused it to slam into walker, but limp and uncoordinated. Walker was knocked to the ground with the unmoving vampire corpse on top of him.
Perelli approached, rifle pointed at the corpse. Kinger drew her sidearm. There was another boom from beneath the vampire. Its already perforated skull was blown clean open, causing the corpse to jump. Lieutenant Walker partly extricated himself from under the body, holding his revolver. "Wanna give your officer a hand, Rifles?" he said expectantly. They helped him get out from under the body. Walker rubbed his sore wrist. Firing such a powerful gun from such an awkward angle had injured it. "That's smart." he quipped.
Perelli rolled the corpse over. The vampires face was still intact. Kinger brought over Snake Eyes' helmet cam. She pointed it at the vampire. Walker radioed Iron heart, "Iron Heart, this is Papa Roach. Are you still receiving? I need an I.D. on this sucker. Over." he said.
"Roger, Papa Roach. Iron Heart reads Lima-Charlie. Standby." the Sky-Carrier replied. Several seconds later, they responded. "Papa Roach, Iron Heart. No joy on I.D. He's not in our database. Are there any markings on him?"
Kinger adjusted he camera to show a tattoo on the vampires shoulder. The tattoo consisted of a single red feather.
There was a significant pause and silence that had to be the analyst consulting others on his team. "No joy, Papa Roach."
Frustrated, Walker rubbed his temple through his mask. "That's fuckin' disappointing." he said.
Perelli replenished his ruined ammo from Snake Eyes' unneeded pouches. Kinger took his HR-15. They marked the position of the spooks body for retrieval by a coroner team. Even though they disliked the enigmatic spook, he was still a comrade in arms. They gave the man a final salute.
Walker tried to contact Iron Heart again, but got no reply. He tried again on an alternate frequency. "Iron heart, Papa Roach. Radio check. How copy? Over." He waited several seconds before flicking through various frequencies that they had designated for the operation. They were all silent.
"R2C, check your radios. I think my receiver flatlined." he told Kinger and Perelli.
They found got the same result. Perelli removed the small radio module from its place on the side of his helmet and checked it for damage. He also checked the receptacle to make sure it was clean, then tried again.
"No joy, sir." He reported.
"What the hell is going on?" Walker said.
Two entire Freikorps regiments were behind enemy lines. With comms out, their situation went from business as usual, to an emergency. Not being able to communicate with each other meant that units could be ambushed without their fellow Rifles being aware of the catastrophe, and they wouldn't be able to help. It also prevented them from being able to call in support air strikes on their intended targets. For some units this meant they were up shit's creek without a paddle.
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Charlie squad of the "Piledrivers" Freikorps regiment was holed up in a farmhouse at the edge of Kronstadt. As planned, they infiltrated enemy lines and used a laser designator to destroy an enemy communications post. Shortly after accomplishing their mission, they were supposed to receive further orders for their next target. They received nothing. Instead, hundreds of cultists emerged from the town and assaulted their position, as if they knew the Freikorps had been there the entire time.
An explosion rocked building as satchel charge detonated right outside. R1C Martinez shot the cultist carrying it just before he was able to run up and plant it on the farmhouse's outer stone wall. Plaster and bits of ceiling rained down on the occupants. Behind the Rifle, his squad leader was shouting into his radio. "Broken arrow! I say again, Broken Arrow! We are being overrun at grid Whiskey Papa Seven Five Six Eight Nine. Request immediate air support! Enemy is-" he was interrupted by one of his Rifle's being forced into hand-to-hand combat with a thrall. The thrall, tried to use its superior strength to pin the Rifle down and then bite at his neck. Thralls didn't have fangs or benefit from the consumption of blood, but they relished in the spilling of it. The two staggered backwards across the room, grappling for supremacy. The Rifle was fighting for his life. The thrall's attempt ended in failure at the tip of the a bayonet when it was thrust through its gut repeatedly.
There was a loud VWOOSH and the pressure inside the room temporarily increased dramatically as a Rifle fired a recoilless rifle. Something armored outside exploded in a massive fireball. Two second later a charred tank turret fell down on top of the house, further damaging the structure. The recoilless rifle operator barely had time to load another round when a fusillade of high-caliber rounds peppered his corner of the structure. Most hit his armor plates caught them and they absorbed the impacts. But one found his facemask. The visor could stop low-caliber rounds, but not cannon shells. His head exploded.
Cultists were now coming right up to the structure and firing inside. The remaining Rifles were forced to stand and fight at point-blank range. Cultists fell left and right. Martinez's HR-15 ran dry. He had no more mags. The squad leader was set upon by four hostiles. They pinned him to the ground and began tearing viscously at his armor. Knives found the gaps and stabbed into the man beneath it. Despite his hopeless situation, the Rifle did not scream or panic. He pulled the pins on two grenades still strapped to his chest.
Martinez was thrown through a wall by the explosion. His armor absorbed the impact of being thrown onto a hardwood piano. The final Rifle went down swinging his bayonet, drowned in a hail of gunfire.
Martinez's HUD was knocked out. He struggled to see. He couldn't feel his limbs. He cradled an incendiary grenade in his hand, thumb in the pin. He waited for the enemy to descend on him. He'd take as many of the bastards with him as could. Death by thermobaric fire. None came.
The sound of gunfire and chaos ebbed. He couldn't see through his dust-covered visor except for vague shapes. He didn't dare move, incase the enemy was in the room. His thumb was poised to pull the pin. He waited for several agonizing seconds of relative silence.
Gingerly, he used his free hand to wipe his faceplate. There was a cultist standing in the doorway. His rifle wasn't pointed at Martinez. The two stared each other down. Martinez's eyes said, "come and get me." the cultist seemed impassive towards the Rifle. Martinez noticed he didn't have the usual head-to-toe tattoos and brandings. Instead he had a simple red line painted around his neck. His gear wasn't haphazardly thrown together either. He was outfitted in clean-cut, low-drag, black tactical gear, like a security contractor. Martinez's mind cycled through one-thousand and one ways to kill him.
Martinez broke the silence, "We doin' this or not, pendejo?" he challenged the cultist.
The cultist sniffed and stepped away from the door. Martinez wasn't-couldn't had have been prepared for what came through.