Blasts of energy and fire plastered across the mountainside as the turrets from the foes turned back and forth. Chaos came quickly, and Helmet and Slacks soon found themselves pulled in separate directions by the tide of a panicked crowd.
As the dropships turned and lowered to the smooth rocky ledge, boulders from higher on the mountain crashed on top of them. Some Worms prepared to depart were thrown in every direction, and the ships shook in the air like they were on a rough sea.
Helmet did his best to free himself of the crowd and climbed up a ladder hung from the roof of a wooden hut. He pulled his gun free from his back as he pressed his feet on the creaky rooftop of some random villager’s home. He scanned the scene through the sights.
A second round of boulders had been poured on the dropships, and one had to land as it let out toxic purple smoke. The others ignored the attack and let their crews escape into town before retreating just out of the village’s attack range. The ship that fell back released a Reaper, and clanging from its giant metal hands indicated it climbed the side of the mountain wall. Helmet cursed.
The crowd was in too much of a frenzy to evacuate efficiently, and the invading Worms wasted no time to take advantage. They fired rapid bursts of hot laser fire at the backs of the fleeing civilians. Behind the attackers, some unarmed Worms waved staffs over the ground. Helmet gritted his teeth and opened fire at the invaders; the unarmed opponents fell first, as he had hoped. He ducked low on the wooden rooftop as bursts of laser fire were immediately directed his way.
The distraction worked well enough for those that could run to escape up to the next level of the mountain. Helmet waited for a break in the fire before leaping from the rooftop. A Worm had come in too close, and he used the soft head like a springboard to break his fall and jump to stable ground.
Spinning around quickly, Helmet fired three rounds into the Worm's center, where a chest would have been, and the creature sputtered and hissed. The older man didn’t let up as he sprinted to the side just before another Worm swung its heavy gun like a mace. Helmet continued to fire on his opponent as the laser weapon smashed into the ground. The gun clicked as the last round was shot, but one Worm fell dead to the ground.
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The group never could tell if the Worms had sympathy for their comrades or hated the thought of losing to an inferior species, but killing one was a surefire way to enrage the others—and killing several turned all scorn in one direction. Helmet let his empty magazine hit the ground as he slowly backed deeper into the village. The screams of the other Worms sent a chill down his spine as he reached for more ammo.
As all the creatures turned his way, they held up their arms to block a deluge of bullets. Helmet turned back to see Coat—though he had left the source of his nickname behind—and Bandana running to his aid. A small reflection of light from atop a building indicated Slacks had taken up a sniping position.
“You should be resting,” Helmet told Coat as he loaded the next magazine.
“Who can rest with all this racket?” the other man said with a laugh that broke into a nasty cough.
Without another word, they focused fire on a single Worm until it dropped, then scattered to avoid the retaliation fire.
“We’re not going to get anywhere like this! They won’t always miss!” Bandana bellowed. The Worms shuddered for long enough that the men could jump out and fire; they had to flee before the Worms returned laser shots. A pounding on the side of the mountain caused all to stumble, but the group used it as another chance to strike. Another Worm fell before they had to pull back.
“Ammo’s low!” Helmet shouted.
A reassuring sound drowned his words out; volunteers from the higher levels of the mountain village were running into the scene. Each was armed haphazardly with whatever gun had been available, ranging from an antique flintlock to a modern rifle. A grenade was tossed at the feet of a Worm, and the creature must have been too unfamiliar to flee before being caught in an explosion.
“Lay down fire!” one volunteer shouted as the group slowly marched forward. The Worms were overwhelmed by the sudden push and stepped back. “Thanks for your help, but we can take it from here,” the volunteer said to Helmet as the invaders fell one by one.
“Don’t underestimate,” Helmet said with a cough.
As if to answer his warning, a giant metal hand suddenly reached up to the ledge of the mountainside. The head of an opposing Reaper popped up, and everyone froze instantly. The torso half emerged, and two shudders in the mountain indicated it had dug the metal feet into newly formed footholds—it was solidly held in place. The only saving grace was that the space between the village ledge and the one above was too low for the machine to stand in.
The Reaper brought down its metal hand and splattered two volunteers. From its shoulders, Worms that had escaped the downed dropship charged down the arm like a ramp and entered the fray. Helmet gripped his gun tightly and fired three shots at the Reaper—which harmlessly ricocheted off the side. “Damn,” the old man sputtered, taking in the intense second wave.