Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Westeria City

as written by Azrican

Removed from the congested entrances and courtyards of Station Charlie, a narrow avenue cut through the complex that served as an entry and exit for vehicles and convoys, marine or otherwise. Under armed guard and the heavy hand of the 44th, the few merchants that remained in the city had been convinced to trade and barter here, in one of the few places in the entire city where some semblance of effective law had been restored. While it was an island in a sea of anarchy, threatening to consume it at any time if a sizeable force did decide to confront the 44th, the marines remained stalwart in their mission: bring the city back from the brink, come hell or high water, blood sweat and tears, this planet would know the name of the 44th.

Private Charles Anderson and Franklin Lee were patrolling down the avenue, large concrete structures reaching several stories above them as a marine at the wooden and battlecrete watchtower leaned over the guardrail to shout down at his comrades. “IPC convoy inbound, looks like water trucks!” Specialist Ivelin yelled, signalling the all-clear to the marines before then turning back to face the no-man’s zone constructed out of levelled buildings and artificial cover in the form of overturned sedans or ruined cars.

Rushing back to the rail, Ivelin brought the MG-40B up from rest position, flipping the bipod out and perched it on the rail of the watchtower until he trained the GPMG on the lead vehicle. Slamming the bolt open and gripping at the stock, he settled into a firing position as a fireteam of marines rushed out from the gate to a pair of burned out sedans just ten meters from the chain-link fence that wheeled closed shortly after them.

Anderson and Lee quickly joined Specialist Ivelin in the watchtower, quickly stacking several cases of 10.9mm ammunition for the MG-40B in case this arrival turned into a confrontation. Anderson sat crouched next to a two-way radioset in the watchtower, as using personal and squad comms was decided to leave Charlie Station open to infiltration and observation, two things that could potentially have disastrous effects for the marines stationed here.

“Oscar Actual we’ve got a convoy outside the wire, Installation Delta. Looks like a trade convoy, over.” Anderson reported briefly, holding the receiver by his ear as the marines outside the fence began calling for the convoy to come to a complete halt. Despite the hectic nature of their movements no one refused to fire, though weapons were indeed levelled on the indigenous troops.

“Authenticate yourselves!” A Corporal shouted from his cover at the hood of a rusted sedan, M-18 hanging precariously atop the vehicle as the New Capricans announced themselves and their intention for peaceful trade and barter. The marines chattered amongst themselves, some rumors being tossed here and there between the four men outside the wire.

“Looks like some of the Indie’s from over the walls Oldie,” Specialist Edwards shouted over to Corporal Oldrich, still aiming down the barrel of his SAW-649. The Corporal pulled his assault rifle from the hood of the sedan, and rose a hand in the air for the marines to standby. He stepped out from behind the vehicle, weapon slung at his hip, and trotted forward to meet the New Caprican officer.

“Corporal Radim Oldrich, 1st platoon/Oscar company.” Oldrich said, the words coming fluidly in Common as he offered a handshake. After the formalities were exchanged he turned back to the watchtower and gave a thumbs up to Anderson and Lee operating the radioset. “We’ve got some Indigenous at the trading floor by Section Tango,”

Oldrich stopped as Anderson appeared besides the MG-40B in the watchtower, one hand hanging the receiver out of the barbican as he shouted down to the marines. “PICs Two-Three! Secfor’s on the way!”

Oldrich nodded back to the marines in the watchtower and then pointing Lieutenant Dualla over to the wrought fence. “We’ll need to do a cursory inspection of the convoy. Weapons and equipment will need to be consolidated into one vehicle if you want to take anything besides the water-trucks beyond the line … we can have a translator and armed guard watching the trucks if so requested. Otherwise you’ll be free to move about the Station.”

The groan of an AMV-85 announced the inspection crew arriving from the motor pool of Charlie Station, and quickly drove up to the fence as the back tailgate was thrown open and a fireteam of ABE automated infantry modules and marines stepped out. They carried various sensor equipment, digital sensor poles and magnetic detectors along with a pair of squat cylindrical pieces of machinery. One marine gripped either side of its chassis with two hands, hauling it down from the bed of the 2-ton and giving it a pat on the droid’s cone-shaped head.

The ABEs, displaying an appearance of humanoid shape despite their obvious mechanical construction, carried a tablet device in their three-pronged hands and exited the fence ahead of the marines and smaller Jupiter droids. The droids followed along with a few short beeps and sounds from the internals of their metal body. As the first ABE joined Corporal Oldrich, the automaton's sleek head bowed calmly to the New Caprican. "Welcome to Charlie Station, I am ABX-309/81, in charge of the Security Protocols and Authentication Procedures for the Station."

"This bucket will get your shit checked out and verified for entrance -- otherwise you'd have every droid in this place locking the brakes. Alright you, get it done." Oldrich said, patting the automaton on the shoulder and signalling for the marines on security to go ahead with the inspection. The ABE promptly nodded and reached up to a toggle on the side of it's oblong headpiece, one of the shimmering blue irises turning a soft gold.

Lance Corporal Kermit walked behind the Jupiter droid, inspecting the soft tones and responses it gave off as the device rolled along the choppy ground with a little armature extending from it's chassis and passing the trucks in a quick up-down-left-right pattern. Occasionally the droid's conical head tilted and rotated, then stopped in it's tracks momentarily before continuing on down the line. Meanwhile, on the opposite end of the street, a PFC ran a spherical disk-shaped device mounted on a pole underneath every vehicle. As the two groups of marines and droids met at the end of the convoy, the ABE spent merely a few seconds checking the readouts and information relayed from the devices before extending one thumb up into the air.

"The Terrans check out, just water and HUMAID!"
 
as written by Ronin, FizzGig, and Sentry

"What am I doin'..."

It was the third time he'd said it. Wouldn't be the last. Randin Kaye looked out from behind a wall at a passing biker, pressing himself into the concrete until the engine's roar faded beyond ear-reach. Since the TNG had pulled out of Westeria and evacuated most of its citizens, the city had become a battleground for gangs, looters, foreign military ops, the WCPD and a scant TNG remnant. All things considered, it was no place for a punk kid of twenty to be rooting around. Randin's hand thumbed off the magnum holstered to his hip, breathing a sigh of relief. God, that'd been a close one.

He'd debated about even coming up at all. Penance was safe. Hell, the freakin' Undermarket was safer than Westeria right now. He had a job. A place in the bar. The protection of some of the meanest fighters he'd ever seen. Why leave all that behind, even just for a couple of hours? Why bother? The young man sighed, digging into his pocket and unfolding a wrinkled city map. He knew why. Before the evacuation, Randin had met people here. Made friends. He needed to know that they were okay, that they'd made it out in time. If not...

His brows furrowed. What 'if not'? What was he supposed to do? A stupid kid. A wet-eared wanderer whose only claim to fame was a decent education and a passable trigger finger - what would that do for them? Hell, all things considered, he would probably end up doing more harm then-

A quick growl and he silenced the doubts. No. He would think of something. Get them food and water. Lead them to one of the military stations. Something. He just needed to know.

He consulted his map again, checking the red circles he'd made around the city. Four in all, one of which was crossed out. Either Jess and her family had evacuated, or they were living somewhere else in Westeria. Either way, their home was abandoned. He hoped for the first.

Bringing his long coat closer over his frame and securing the red scarf wrapped around his neck, the young gunslinger continued his journey through the ruins of Westeria, a lone figure set beneath battalions of towering, empty buildings.

____

But Randin wasn't alone, not entirely.

Casey had been rooting through an alleyway that was stacked high with electronic cast-offs, searching for spare parts she could tuck away in the backpack she had strapped to her shoulders. Her long hair was pulled back in a braid so it stayed out of her face, blue-grey eyes narrowed in concentration as she picked up what looked like an old gaming console, tearing off the protective shell to see what she could yank out of there. There was always something useful to be found if you did in fact know what to look for. She kept low, out of sight of the street, the knees of her jeans smeared with dirt and grease and whatever stagnant muck puddled there in the alley.

For the most part, this place was abandoned. There was so much disorder that it didn't make sense for reasonable people to try to make a living here, and that was why it was so ideal for her to come up, albeit very carefully, to search for items that others might have missed. There were things she could sell, spare parts she could pick up for projects back home...

Someone screamed.

It wasn't piercing, but a gutteral wail that was abruptly cut off, only to be accompanied by the wet sound of flesh being torn. Her eyes flew wide, hand moving to the pistol she had strapped under her shoulder. She turned towards the sound in time to see a shadowy form bend over its kill, the feet of its victim barely visible just fifty meters from where she was crouched. Her heart quickened, mind flying with what-ifs as she crawled around the heap and stepped out into the sunlight. As soon as she was clear, she took off running, keeping an eye on the road as she skirted debris and slid over the hoods of abandoned vehicles.

That thing had caught it's victim, but had the victim been keeping an eye on her? Were they planning their own attack?


Panic kept her moving, kept the breath in her lungs, but it also blinded her to her surroundings in a way that was almost as dangerous as hanging out in the alley had been. She could hear the sounds of motorcycles in the distance, but couldn't tell where they were coming from.

There was an intersection coming up. She immediately turned left without thinking to check the corner and...

Bam!

She slammed full-force into a warm body, sending her careening into the gutter with a desperate ache in her side.

"Oh, Jesus ow!" she groaned, cradling what she thought might have been a bruised rib, or liver...but mostly ego.

____

"What the fuck, kid!? Can't watch where you're goin'?"

A brick wall of a man stood before her. He stood several heads higher than the young woman and was broad-shouldered. Looked like he lifted six out of seven days and never skipped his brotein shakes. He was distinctly Losenyu in heritage, slightly feminine in the face, not even a trace of stubble. He was dressed like any punk on Westeria's streets. Chains on his jeans, tight black shirt with a skull graphic on the front. None of this marked him apart from anyone else in Westeria, not even the flames that licked the edge of his parted lips.
 
as written by FizzGig and Sentry

"I can't watch the front and the back at the same time!" she wheezed, grimacing as she pushed herself to her feet. She tried to stretch out her sore side, cradeling her ribs with her arm. "There was something...something back there and I had to run and...usually I'm watching where I'm going. I'm good at it, just not...not right now."

She huffed, struggling to slow down her breathing, taking a moment to look the guy over. He was huge. It was no wonder she felt like she'd run into a brick wall. The man was solid, broad, and looked like he definitely belonged out here.

"Listen, don't mug me please. I don't have anything on me and besides, you've already bruised one of my ribs and that would just be adding insult to injury."

____

"Oh, my God. Why would I mug someone who basically knocked herself out on my abs? Fucking ridiculous, like punching a cockroach," he scoffed, folding his arms. "What are you even doing? Why are you running? Humans are fucking useless."

He stampeded past her to gaze around the corner. "I don't even see anyth-"

____

The thing that stood roughly thirty paces from the corner that Issaku rounded stood just a few inches shorter than he did. Her arms were unusually long, covered in blood-soaked fur and tipped with wicked-looking talons. Hair was missing in patches, the skin dull. It had the form of a female, but was so gaunt from hunger that it wasn't immediately decipherable. Blood still dripped from its lips, yellow eyes glowing and fixed on Issaku with a predatory focus.

From behind him, Casey had already taken aim, her pistol in hand.

"Duck!" she shouted as the kitsune sprinted forward. She fired once, twice, both bullets slamming into the monster's chest. It sent her careening but didn't stop her trajectory.

"Why isn't she dead?!" Casey cried, grabbing for Issaku's hand and trying to run.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

Meanwhile, the kitsune stumbled along behind them, screeching in fury.
 
as written by FizzGig and Sentry

"Hey, hey, heyheyhey, no!" Issaku rebelled. He grabbed Casey's hand and lifted her clear off the ground. "What did I say about running? What did I fuckin' say?"

"It's worked for me in the past!" she shouted back, eyes wide. "Watch it!"

The kitsune had dug in the claws of her feet and launched herself at the pair, claws extended and fanged jaws parted in a roar.

Issaku turned his head as soon as the kitsune leapt for them. He extended his other arm and reached for the kitsune's neck.

The kitsune couldn't alter her trajectory, but the moment that his hand sealed around her throat, she latched onto his forearm and swung her legs up to dig her talons into his abdomen. Casey, who was still dangling from his other hand, could only lash out in order to deliver a solid kick to the kitsune's thigh.

The man's grip on the kitsune's neck tightened. His fingernails lengthened and curled into her flesh. When the beast's claws raked his flesh, a faucet of blood dribbled out. It steamed against his skin.

"What do you think you're trying to do?" he growled, letting out a great rhumble that shook the air. He raised the kitsune higher, then, at the apex of his reach, he thrusted the creature into the asphalt.

Ow ow ow ow ow.

She felt her feet skittering against the sidewalk as the man violently threw the kitsune to the ground, his fingers still gripping it's neck.

The kitsune in question could no longer screech, but had started thrashing to save it's own skin rather than bring down it's assumed prey. The skin was purpling, teeth tearing into it's own protruding tongue as she raked her claws again and again into Issaku's skin.

Casey was thoroughly shaken at this point, wanting nothing more than to get away. But his grip was still firm on her wrist, and there wasn't anything she could do to stop him. In all the fuss she'd dropped her pistol, and she was mad as hell at herself for doing it too.

With a hiss, Issaku dropped the beast and wound back his foot. In a roar, he let the foot swing.

The thrashing kitsune sent Issaku's blood spattering against Casey's shirt. She hissed in a breath, suppressing a cry of pain as the heat of it burned her skin. The kitsune's head snapped sideways with the impact of Issaku's boot, going still and twitching for a moment before it slowly, painstakingly moved it's arms and slowly crawled away.

"Please put me down." Casey said in a groan.

It took a moment for the Westeria hooligan to hear Casey. His blood boiled as literally as one could imagine. When he finally calmed, he turned his head to look at the girl he'd been holding in the air. "Oh. Uh."

She was put down gently. A slight grimace of embarassment passed his face. "My bad."
 
as written by FizzGig and Sentry

For a moment she was on eye level with him, and she could see his expression changing from anger to embarrassment when he realized what he was still doing. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she took her sore wrist into the opposite hand and massaged it, looking around for her gun.

There were spots on her abdomen that still burned, but she ignored the discomfort while she retrieved her weapon and slid it back into its holster after checking the magazine.

"It's okay. Thank you for...handling that." she said, still sounding a bit shaky.

____

"Yeah, whatever," he muttered. "It's like like you'd of been able to do anything, anyway. Issaku's always gotta be the goddamn hero."

____

"Well not all of us are huge with fire blood, so." Casey replied quietly. "I'll make sure to give you your space if this happens next time."

She took her backpack off, and started rifling through the electronic items she'd tucked inside. At the bottom, she had a sizable trauma kit that she withdrew. She zipped her back up and slipped it over her shoulder before turning to face him.

"Look, I may not be able to fight off a kitsune with my bare hands, but I'm pretty decent at first aid. Will you let me take care of some of those scratches? They're pretty deep."

She bit her lip and looked at his chest.

"You'll, uh, have to lift up your shirt at least."

____

Issaku looked down, then, with a gape, stretched out his shirt. "Oh, you're kidding. This is one of my favorite shirts. That bitch just-" He pointed to where the kitsune had been crawling, but she was gone. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God. I'm going to kill that bitch the next time I see her."

The shirt was whipped off and thrown onto the ground with an incredible fury. The blood boiled briefly again, dripping freely from his wounds like he was an active volcano. As soon as he was over it, he cooled.

____

Casey had an odd expression on her face, something between surprise and cautious curiosity. It took a second for her to find her words before she gestured to the wall of one of the crumbled buildings.

"If you could sit please..."

He did, albeit grudgingly, and she sat down on her knees in front of him, pulling out a few pieces of gauze and cleaning the blood from his chest. It was still warm, perhaps warmer than usual, but it didn't burn her skin. She was happy to discover that there was only one area that was deep enough to require a stitch or two. His arm was in better shape.

She pulled out a small bottle with a stopper, a needle, and some thread.

"I need to close that," she told him, gesturing to the wound in particular. "I think you'd be pretty well protected from an infection that would make someone like me sick, but this place isn't normal. God only knows what might crawl in there."

She was essentially asking his permission, watching him carefully as she offered him the small bottle.

"One sip. It helps."
 
as written by Ronin

Pounding footsteps on the pavement would draw their attention to a young man rounding the corner. He startled at first sight of them, hand itching towards his side, before he caught himself and drew his fingers to his belt instead. He was tall, broad shouldered, dressed in a long leather duster and a fraying red scarf.

"Ah. You folks okay?" he walked cautiously towards them, eyes flickering around the vicinity. "Heard screaming." He stopped about thirty feet away and looked between Casey and Issaku. "No one's dead?" He glanced around. "I'm not about to get shot?"
 
as written by FizzGig

The young woman blinked, her hands smeared with Issaku's blood, still half-reaching to him with the vial clasped in her nimble fingers. She was gazing at the newcomer with undisguised surprise, lips parting as she considered his odd questions.

"You might get shot, just not by me." she finally replied, glancing from one man to the other. "I can't speak for this guy."

She glanced toward the alley where the kitsune had withdrawn, a small frown pinching her facial features. "That thing's gone, so we should be okay, uh..." She looked ready to start sewing up Issaku's chest.

"Who are you anyway?"
 
as written by Lobos

So much could occur within a city, but to most only that which happened in immediate proximity was ever noticed. But from above, all what came about on the streets below was laid bare, a scene to be witnessed. Birds were taken for granted within cities such as this, and it was this that was to be exploited.

They came, some singly, some in small groups. From the south, from the east, the west and the north. Avian in shape, at the distance easily mistaken for Corvidae Corvus, crows, ravens. Even perchance caught by eyes enhanced with the aid of binoculars, they could pass inspection. Yet their eyes were empty, and from above their flesh occasionally undulated, twisted like liquid stirred by the wind. Hundreds of them, roosting in the trees, along power lines, on the edges of rooftops. Some rasping the harsh cry of that which they mimicked in form, others rooting through the rubbish of those hastily fled from Westeria City. The ruse would continue, as it had been commanded so deep below.

The Raven, released once more. Hundreds of eyes, and one collective consciousness. As commanded, so began the Servant's task begin. Anarchy had descended, and it was anarchy that was desired. Already, there were events unfolding and peoples present that posed a risk to the lawless chaos left by the abandonment of the once lords over this region, and that was...

Undesired.

There was work for its brethren within this place. Both the Raven and its kin were advised to subtly in their roles, though the execution was left to their respective judgement. Raven's task was simple. Maintain the chaos for as long as possible, by any means. It sensed the presence of entities within the city that could pose a threat to itself, but many of these it elected to merely be wary of. Singular powers were but stones cast amidst a turbulent sea, merely obstacles to avoid, or at best hazards to use to gain advantage. Rather, it was the gathering groups that could, by force of numbers, leverage themselves against the unpredictable tides that were its focus, its obsessions.

Its targets.

The near future would be a busy time indeed.
 
as written by Ronin

"Name's Randin," the youth offered a nod, "glad you folks are okay." He glanced upwards at as a small flock of what looked like crows fluttered overhead. No, 'flock' wasn't the right word for crows. What was it called again?

"It's dangerous to be wandering the city, even as a pair," Randin continued, bringing his eyes back to the two of them. His brows knit as he watched Casey begin to sew up Issaku. "...wounded, no less." He scratched at he side of his head and stepped around Casey, observing the pattern of her suture. She did good work. Better than he could have managed, and faster. "Anything I can do for you, sai?"
 
as written by Sentry

Without the slightest grimace, Issaku grabbed the bottle and took a swig. He swished it around in his cheeks before swallowing it down.

"Tastes like piss," he remarked, tossing the girl her bottle. As Randin showed up, he eyed him lazily. "Peachy," he spat. "Point me at somethin' to maul and I'll be doin' better."

He seemed to brood on such nonexistent problems as not having something to fight. The young man certainly didn't act like he was in the middle of a torn up, hectic town. "Name's Issaku. Might have heard it somewhere. You know, Flamespear, right hand man of Wildfire? No? Not ringin' a bell? You guys deaf?"
 
as written by FizzGig

Casey's lip twitched, but she didn't say anything in response to Issaku's introduction. Without taking her eyes off of his chest, she began another quick round of sutures, her hands steady in spite of the presence of the other stranger, and the precariousness of their situation.

"I think we're set, actually." She sat back on her heels, glancing down at the needle in her hand before tucking it away. She looked up at Randin with a smile, but her eyes were guarded. He wasn't the only one familiar with the types of folks who wandered around the city. "At least...Flamespear is." she sighed, dusting off her hands and moving to stand.

"So...what is it you do around here? Other than warn strangers of the obvious hazards involved in wandering around this city..."
 
as written by Ronin

Randin made a face. Flamespear? Wildfire? Sounded like the stage names of a professional wrestler. Or a male stripper. "Beg your pardon, sai. Can't say I've heard of those names." He cleared his throat. "You a... fireman of sorts?"

The wanderer looked down at Casey, a slight red tinging his face as she spoke. Yes, of course they knew the peril they were in. They were capable people. Had to be, if they'd survived this long. "I'm just looking for some friends," he replied, "hoping they got out of the city. If not..."

Randin perked as a slight vibration in the ground thrummed into his boots. The sound of growling engines grew close until a trio of bikers rumbled past their alleyway and continued into the street. They looked mean and armed. Randin kept close to the wall, as still and quiet and stone until they'd passed.

"Close one," Randin exhaled, "I've seen that group twice now. Think they're patrolling." He took his hand off his belt. "Or guarding something."
09-27-2016, 09:57 AM
Alara
 
as written by Tiko

High over the city there was a deafening crack from the massive portal that still spanned across the sky overhead, blotting out the sun and leaving the city cast in perpetual shadow. Should any look up, arcs of energy danced along its surface, crackling and popping with all the intensity of a lightning storm before they died back down and the giant gaping tear seemed to stabilize and fall silent once more.
 
as written by Sentry

"Need someone to wipe 'em out? I can work for a good price," replied Issaku with a grin. "Or, you know, if you need an escort. You could say I'm a big shot at this whole surviving-"

The crack of energy from above interrupted Issaku briefly. He scowled at the sky and stood himself up. "What was that?" he inquired. "Feels like that thing'll freak out at any minute now."
 
"Stay on that van!" Lennox ordered as he flew above the highway in an airship. "We can't let them get away from the city." He continued, his words meant for the teams of soldiers in pursuit of a large armored van.

Behind the van were four humvees, two of them bearing Invictus logos. This pursuit was a team effort between them and the Black Badge.

"Get me close." Arya told the driver of her humvee, removing her more cumbersome gear before climbing out of the open hatch in the roof of the vehicle. "Bones, what are you doing?" A voice asked through the radio in the vehicle. "Ending this." Arya answered, pulling herself out enough that she sat on the roof of the humvee.

"Up ahead. Look." One of the Invictus in the humvee said, drawing attention to the back doors of the van opening up. Standing behind the doors was an armored man, electricity swirling around his arms and the whips he carried in his hands.

"Is that a fucking supervillain?" The driver asked, "I mean, okay. Go do your superhero thing, Bones." He said to Arya, slamming his foot down on the gas to accelerate. "This might be a really dumb idea." Arya admitted, "Fuck it!"

Arya stood up quickly as the humvee got close to the van and leaped through the air towards it. She drew her pistol and began to open fire on the armored man, her bullets barely doing any damage to him. The armor was strong. Stronger than it should have been.

These guys were just supposed to be gangsters. Sex traffickers trying to leave town with their cargo.

Not this.

The Russian lashed out at Bones with one of the whips, hoping to catch her in the air and ruin her day. Unfortunately for him, the woman was no stranger to electricity. Grabbing the whip, Arya pulled the man towards her. He flew out of the van, bringing Arya with him as she failed to let go in time.

Both came crashing down on the concrete, Arya quickly rolling to avoid being ran over by her own allies in passing humvee. "Fuck!" She said with relief, barely avoiding becoming roadkill.

"I'm coming back." Her driver said, voice coming through the implant in Arya's head. It was easier to use than a radio, and more reliable. "No, stay on the van. It's priority." She told him, "Roger that." He said.

As Arya got to her feet she found herself with one of the whips wrapped around her neck, the life being choked out of her. She could smell her start to burn from the burning electricity, though her skin was perfectly okay.

Like her opponent she could harness electricity, specifically the plasma that directed it in lightning. And she could do it naturally.

"The electricity doesn't hurt you, but I can crush your windpipe." The armored man said, a Russian accent barely muffled by his helmet. "You made a mistake staying here. We run this city. I'm going to make an example out of you." The Russian boasted, taking several steps towards Arya.

She dropped to her knees, trying to remove the whip from around her neck despite the futility of the effort. It was wound tight.

The Russian kneeled down beside Arya to get a look at her face as it began to turn blue. "A woman? A chink woman, at that. Explains why this was so easy." He boasted, smirking beneath his helmet as Arya grabbed his arm. "Goodbye, bitch." He said, getting ready to deliver his coup de grace.

That was until he felt an intense on his side. His gaze drifted down to see electricity jumping from Arya's hand to his arm and back, the space between gradually growing brighter until finally the energy exploded in a burst of light and heat.

The Russian was sent flying away from Arya, the Invictus soldier herself slamming down hard on the ground. She wheezed and cough, gasping for air as the whip fell from her neck.

Smoke rose from her body, part of her jumpsuit had burned from the electrical current. She had others, it would be fine. She looked towards the Russian, blood gushing from where his arm used to be. He wouldn't be coming back from that.

"Bones!?" A woman's voiced echoed through Arya's head, it was hard to make out at first. A result of no oxygen getting to her brain, no doubt. "Your vitals were dropping, but you stabilized. Are you okay?" The voice asked, "Yeah... I'm good." Arya answered.

"How'd the takedown go?" Arya asked, rolling over onto her back. "They stopped the van, rescued the slaves. They'll be going home. The Black Badge are taking the traffickers in." The other woman answered.

"I need a beer." Arya said with a painful chuckle, "What a fucking day."
 
Somewhere in Westeria City.

"I don't like it, this whole area is crawling with Terrans." Corporal Kowalski said, as he hefted his Disruptor PDW, this resulted in a nod from the Petty Officer, who turned to Specialist Gage, the young Medic. "I heard this is where Specialist Kayama disappeared, we could be walking into another Ambush." He said, looking around him, the towering, bombed out buildings of Westeria City cast an odd shadow over them, while the two riflemen took point, moving slowly and deliberately, while Petty Officer Gilman, kept his distance from the two taking point, his Support Specialist and medic in tow. The men maintained a tight formation that was classical of Imperial Doctrine.

The Commander looked to his right, at a large office building. It would provide ample cover, and an ambush point for the intersection ahead. With a few hand signals, the two Riflemen moved quickly. The Commander moved behind them with the Medic, and the Squad Support specialist covered up the rear, using his heavy Cuirasse suit, it's integrated combat systems, and heavy defense to bring up the rear.

It wouldn't be long before they reached the building, with the riflemen moving towards the northeast corner, prime locale for an ambush.
 
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"Let's move," Guardian-Major Adrian Davos led his troops through an old warehouse, "intelligence reports Imperial activity in this sector. We have to stop them before they find what they're looking for." He racked a magclip into his Sixer. "Dirk, you take the vantage point on the balcony. Thompson, Triss, you exit left, cling to the side of the road." He turned to his Oracle. "How you feeling, Rem?"

The Oracle nodded. "Ready to kill some Shens."

Triss, a freckled marine with an oversized scouter, frowned. "Don't use that word, Rem."

Dirk sneered beside her. "Why not?"

She grimaced. "It's a racial slur. Like saying 'nigger' or 'spick'."

Dirk grinned. "No less than they deserve." He primed his rifle. "Can't wait to tag me a couple Shens."

"Shut up," Davos groaned, "take your positions. Dirk, keep low, out of sight. Don't peek out until we have scouter confirmation."

They moved into their positions.
 
"Marco, Anatole, cover those windows, Kowalski, cover the rear, Gage you're with me. Get those deployable covers up. I'm going to try and get Datalink uplink." Gilman said, putting his back against a concrete pillar, and hefting his Command Node Interface up. "I'm going to try and fire up the Owl." He said, lowering himself to a somewhat seated position, while the two Riflemen moved to the window, crouching low and checking their weapons, this position provided them ample concealment, while giving them vantage points into the street, keying up the sights of their rifles, they moved to a prone position, edging slightly out the windows to cover the streets and the buildings below.

Kowalski moved to set up deployable covers in rearward positions, as well as Arclight sticks over doorjambs, which would provide a shower of molten slag on an unlucky intruder.

The sound of keys clacking echoed through the room as the Commander booted up his computron, and began broadcasting a brief signal, which culminated into a powerful jamming signal, which would hopefully conceal their positions.

Everyone kept quiet, as the Commander cleared his throat. "We'll move out after dark, we'll head east, that's where third squad was last seen, hopefully we can meet up with what's left of them, and then we'll move out of the city, and into the countryside, where we'll rendezvous with the 101st Mechanized."
 
Rem grunted through the comms. "We just lost scouters."

"That means they're close," Davos replied, "if they worked a little bit, I'd say there were still a kilo out." He fiddled with his scouter's frequency. "The fact that they're completely dead means they're right on top of us. Stay put."

The Guardian nimbly rounded the corner of the bar, checking in each window. Finding it vacant, he activates his raptor pack and shot up to the roof of the bar. He had an eagle's view of the battlefield.

"No one on the streets," he said, "that means they're..."

An armored figure caught his eye in the window of the adjacent office building. The Guardian swiftly dropped. "There. The office building. Thompson, Triss, move up to the forward cover behind the bar's streetwise wall. Rem, be ready to shield them. I'm gonna make some noise."

He unclipped a thermite grenade from his belt, primed it, and threw. A second later it exploded against the wall of the building, taking out a chunk of it, sending debris and smoke flying into the room.
 
All of them flinched as the Thermite grenade impacted the wall, but there was quick thinking, and the Riflemen on the first floor doubled back from the windows under the cover of the smoke and fire.

Kowalski also moved quickly, while the Commander signaled for the Marine on the second floor to hold position and provide covering fire. A series of gestures conveyed his intent, while Kowalski moved, placing one Anti-tank mine near the new hole in the wall, arming it and covering it with some debris to obscure it, he set the proximity sensors, and doubled back. From there he placed a second Antitank mine, and a third, providing ample coverage while Gilman grabbed the Computron, gingerly lifting it up and stepping back around the pillar.

Anatole was unhurt from the explosion, and he rolled from his position in the window to double back, taking cover behind a concrete pillar, and the deployable cover. They weren't going to react, simply consolidate their position. They had the element of surprise.

Anatole moved back deeper into cover, moving around the concrete pillar, while keeping his eyes on the windows.

Gage moved quickly as well, helping Gilman carry the Computron, while Kowalski grabbed a Deployable cover to relocate it, Gilman and Gage settled into their new position as the dust began to settle, while Marco rolled back from his position, but not before quickly wiring a grenade bouquet with a frag grenade, some paracord, and a piece of chair, should someone trip the wire, they would be in for a nasty suprise.

Marco rolled off his position, and moved back to the main group, covering up their rear with Kowalski's final position.
 
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