ғ ᴇ ᴀ ʀ ʟ ᴇ s s - ᴀ ᴅʏsᴛᴏᴘɪᴀɴ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀᴅᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀᴇ 「ɪɴ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ」

[Astoria]

\\ Juniper Hamilton
\\ Team III

Their ambush went smoothly.

Sneaking in behind the two men, the distracted guards were swiftly taken out by the two seraphim operatives. Patting down their bodies, the raven-haired girl quickly found and retrieved the keys to the back of the vehicle. Working quickly, she had the metal doors open and the entire team crammed inside in a matter of moments. Making sure the knocked out guards wouldn't be waking up again anytime soon, Juniper had them bundled into the back of the armored car.

There was little time to spare; from her position at the front, Juniper could see the vehicles in the compound already starting up and becoming under way. She quickly keyed her own mic. "Bravo team, heads up. You've got a dozen armored personnel carriers headed your way." A pause; she squinted as a group men approached the single MBT parked near the departing vehicles. If it got out towards the second squad, the mission would be absolutely screwed. "A fucking tank too. Standby, we'll see if we can deal with it here." Having alerted her comrades, she turned back to the interior of the truck.

"Alright. Let's see what we've got. Don't spend time gawking, and cut the unnecessary small talk." The squad leader threw a sharp glare at Aresia, the sole offender.

Throwing up tarps and popping open boxes, Juniper helped search for anything that could make up a meaningful disguise. There were weapons, tools, and supplies, all useful things in their own right, but nothing important for the mission. It was only when Rubel pulled open a worn cardboard box that there was a miracle discovery of several sets of CLERIC body armor. "Good job, Brother. Who the hell stores these things in a truck?" Wasting no time in donning one herself over her military-style windbreaker, Juniper fancied herself looking enough like a CLERIC officer for a brief inspection. She motioned towards the two knocked out guards. "Corvus, Brother, if their gear fits you, take those as well. Chaos, put on some of that armor and stay in the back. We might need your power if our cover's immediately blown. Oh, and do something about that tank when we get there, will you?" She stuck a cigarette in her mouth, but in the chaos of hurried preparation, it stayed unlit.

Once everybody was ready, Juniper took the driver's seat. She fumbled with the clutch for a bit; the Seraphim officer was a bit rusty with manual, but the red truck soon rumbled at speed into view of the compound entrance. Taking an urgent affectation with her voice, she thrusted an arm out the window with a forged CLERIC ID from a lanyard.

"No time! The Square is under attack!" She gestured her arm forward crazily, the ID badge flopping along with it as she continued past the security checkpoint without stopping. She drove right on, finally parking the red truck next to the sole remaining APC in the lot.

"Red Romeo 7, what the fuck was that!?" The CB radio crackled to life in protest.

It was a good thing that Brother worked his magic just as that happened. As well aimed pellets incapacitated the soldiers in the vehicles next to them, Juniper hammed up the theatrics for the CLERIC radio. "What the fuck? Do you fucking see we're under attack!? I'll take responsibility for this later!" Done with the radio, she dropped the radio set. On her own earpiece, the chaos of the ongoing battle filtered through to her, but she ignored it for now. With the remaining enemies in the lot either incapacitated or distracted, now was the time to make their play for their target. "Alright. If they bought it, the attention should be off us and on the drones. Make those things annoying as you can for them. We're taking the APC. Chaos, can you blow the top off that tank?" Juniper considered the tank mission-killed, but it never actually hurt to blow the turret off if they had the chance do so—the risk otherwise was still too high.

Juniper finally gestured towards the truck's back door.

"Let's go."

 

[Skyswimsky]

Inside the back of the VAN the Chaos Witch wasn't able to see too much of what was going on outside. She simply had to wait. Aresia hated waiting. Yet, here she was, doing what she hated.

As if Aresia was just asking for it, the Chaos Witch soon got to do something: putting on horrible looking armour. Great. Added to that the fact that Juniper teased her about blowing up the tank the raven-haired girl annoyingly responded. "Yeah yeah whatever." As she tried her best to fit into the clunky set of armour. "And now I look 10 years older, great." Whatever. Orders were orders and Aresia simply followed by now. Considering she had orders to actually cast, rather fast, the girl wasn't even able to side-track too much with her thoughts.

Alas, even that seemed to not matter anymore as Brother's drone quickly took care of the situation before Aresia even had chance to act. Heck, the tank didn't even bother moving an inch! Maybe the glasses wearing girl should have just gone ahead and do her thing? The Chaos Witch's annoyed face at the entirety of the situation quickly changed to that of joy however as she was finally allowed to blow something up!

"Gladly!" Aresia responded with a smile as they exited the van. Pointing her open palm towards the temporary disabled vehicle energy started crackling around her. Her red eyes glowing she spoke.

"Let the world hear your rage thunder and sweep across the realm.
-Guts Avesta!"

A small, blackish, sphere formed into her open palm that quickly accelerated towards the tank unit. Upon contact the sphere quickly expanded to swallow the vehicle, and part of its surroundings, whole before quickly retracting itself until it was just a few centimetres in diameter. It left a sphere shaped hole remaining for what was once the ground and a tank. Mere seconds after that the tiny sphere erupted, scattering deformed metal and debris onto its surroundings.

Aresia smiled, clearly happy about her work, yet, something seemed off.

 

[Villamvihar]

​

"Already done that, lollipop princess!" Ade spoke into their radio, watching as the two dog-drones sped off into the distance, then they gathered the other two saboteurs. The nervous FEARLESS agents radiated discomfort as the chaotic chemist sized them up with disappointed eyes from behind the faceplate, but then Ade just shrugged before motioning to advance back to base. Breaking radio contact with Empress, Faceless told their squad that they will be retrieving their metallic suitcase to make sure no one did anything stupid, then they disappeared into a random alleyway, swallowed up by the shadows. There was not even a trace of Ade remaining on the site, which left the other squad members even more nervous.

This was not helped by the fact that a couple of minutes later, their boss just appeared right at the structure they were to turn into a hellhole, having gotten there at least minutes before them. Frankly, for FEARLESS agents, they looked more nervous than an elephant in a china shop, so Ade heaved a loud sigh.
"Now listen here, you two. Just split the work evenly and you'll be all right." Speaking in an exasperated tone, Faceless sent the locations of likely entry points to the two, highlighting especially important ones along the structure while leaving a deliberate entry point open for the first squad. "Leave some material behind just in case." And again, those were the only orders they got as Faceless headed out to rig the most important points in the building. They still had most of their anti-personell grenades left and even without them...

Ade looked at one of the cars within the building and suddenly got a really evil idea. "Hey, Empress," they keyed in to her as they headed towards their sections. "Any particular location you would like to turn into an anthracite pancake?"

 

[Rax Rosetta]

​

Well, color the RONIN impressed. Not only did Lionheart ignore direct orders from Andre, which was always bonus points in Ansgar's book, but he even saved him the trouble of cutting a hole into the fence. Stalking after the NOAH as he went apeshit with that stupidly oversized sword of his, he watched the kid literally cut down a wall and go storming in. Huh, he was just going to have the NOAH cut open a door or something, or at least drag the attention of the Clerics off him while he went about killing someone important enough to have side door access and get inside. Still, even though it was too loud for his tastes, at least this loud was getting results, so he would save the NOAH his commentary. Then again, considering how he just stormed off inside without even trying to get his bearings, well, he was probably not going to get the kid's attention anyways. To hell with it, might as well utilize the fact there was a berserking NOAH inside now to further detract attention from him.

Ansgar would knock an arrow, bodkin just in case since he had no idea what was inside and, despite the troops outside wearing light enough armor, if any, that the broadheads would have worked, he would rather not get caught off guard with something that could take the, albeit more damaging to flesh, broadheads. If things were narrow enough, he might just swap to his mono blades, both sword and balisong, but until that could be determined, he decided it was due time to report to Andre, making it short and to the point, which would also explain his absence on the bloody stupid frontal assault going on. "Sergeant, Razor here. Got me a lovely little side door, proceeding to locate and extract PACKAGE. Might as well get something remotely close to what we are here to do, done, right?" Grinning ear to ear, he kept low and focused on anything going on. Cameras, that were intact and working at any rate, sensors, people running to respond to the NOAH, hell, anything that might rumble his presence. Second, if the floor plans were right, he would have to make his way to the center of the compound to find the PACKAGE. With Lionheart stomping about, raging and destroying things, that could prove either easier, or more difficult, than he would like to admit.

Regardless, he had work to do and, although he desperately wanted to do otherwise, his goal was to minimize anything that could alert the interior security to the fact that there was more than just a NOAH flailing about, panicked and berserk, to deal with. Would make slipping out all nice and quiet like with PACKAGE far, far easier. He could always come back and start murdering later, he did have a job to do after all, and unlike a certain veteran brazenly assaulting the front door like some old time warrior, he actually intended to get something done without getting shot within an inch of his life. Death didn't scare him, but he had no interest in getting turned into a lead pincushion when he could sneak around, murdering and stabbing until he got brought down on his own terms. That was how he intended to go, blade to blade with another, not just arbitrarily getting gunned down. But focus for now, Ansgar reminded himself, moving carefully and quietly, maximizing speed as much as possible without compromising stealth. After all, to his knowledge, no one had gotten a look at him or was even aware, in regards to the Clerics, of his existence yet.​

 

[Izurich]

Powered by their exoskeletal legs, the two canine drones returned into the parking lot first, deliberately going into the vision of the megaphone-toting Cleric so he could see that two of their comrades were taken hostage. The dogs quickly made their way towards the fourth level where most of the rebels were. "This is Empress to 2nd Squad. Hostages secured. Over." Karin reported as the field medics carried them somewhere safe before attending to the wounded Clerics, just so they wouldn't suddenly die on them.

Another transmission came from the biker Noah, Karin blinked her green eyes as she carefully listened to her earpiece, "This is Empress, noted on your position." while fiddling with the computer, her cloaked UAV above the parking lot turning in its hovering position, focusing its camera on the blonde Noah hiding behind cover. The black-haired girl pondered for a short moment before she continued, "Use smoke grenades to block their vision on the parking lot, they are aware we have hostages, it will make them hesitate to charge, buying us more time. If you wish to do additional actions, your call, but please exert non-lethal force. Over." Killing some of them right now would just agitate them into charging prematurely.

So, the sniper team had engaged to cover the 1st Squad judging by the loud fire from above her and White Death's report. "It's quite premature... but that's expected from a team led by Sarge." Karin pondered, "They have 2 wildcards with them... either White Wych or Lionheart are at the risk of succumbing to their impulses if pushed too far. The situation will only escalate. If that happens, those two are to be used as decoys to attract hostile forces while we retrieve the package and retreat, I don't expect them to survive, but it's within acceptable parameter if PACKAGE is as important as Command made it be."

A transmission came from the white-haired masked sniper, "This is Empress. reports of approaching APCs and possible Tank back-up noted." Squad 3 should be in the clear now, she expected them to move on with their objectives. Good, they were doing both main tasks well, covering fire and decoy, not that the team needed to be aware the latter was deliberately acted upon. "For now, keep supporting Team One, eliminate as many hostiles as you can, prioritize officers and squad leaders. Over." So far so good... and if things went as she predicted, the Cleric's APC back-up could be used against them.

Finally, the Saboteur sub-squad returned, "This is Empress to Faceless," the green-eyed teen addressed the most unruly member of her team, "A particular location," Just perfect, "Set up traps that can temporarily disable an APC on the first floor." She could just hear the confusion and protest coming from the masked agent, sigh, she'd have to handle this... delicately. "Trust me, it is imperative to our survival, either you do this or survival is minimal, yes, including yours." While she accepted there would be casualties, keeping them to a minimum would preserve FEARLESS' manpower for future missions. If this went perfectly... these riflemen wouldn't even have to fire a single bullet.

 

[Jakers]

Listening in with a furrowed brow of concentration, Tia gave a firm nod as her orders were given. Non-lethal, huh? Whilst it wasn't her usual style of doing things, she could definitely make an allowance. On the field, Empress's orders were ones she trusted pretty much above everyone else's. Squinting towards the barricade once more, Tia grinned under the black visor of her helmet as an idea brewed in her head. A crazy idea, but that was just her, wasn't it?

"Loud and clear, Empress! Stay tuned and get ready for a show, over!"

Switching radio channels, Tia flipped through to a channel that was unique to her radio. This channel would contact the engineers in FEARLESS's private garage; the one Mixuki phased into when it wasn't by her side. Bringing the radio close, Tia's voice shifted into a commanding bark, a voice she only saved for the mechanics back at base.
"Okay, ladies, put those playboys away and get your asses in gear! Requesting the following: six smoke grenades and two stun grenades! I repeat: six smoke grenades and two stun grenades! Chop-chop, over!"
A collection of loud 'roger!'s. About twenty-two seconds later,
"Six smokes and two stuns. Equipment ready for deployment! Over and out!"
"Woahhh, that was quick! Could it be a record? I'm almost proud of you guys," Tia chirped in a banterous manner, before cutting communications and clicking her finger. "Mixuki: to me!!"


Her darling soon appeared, six smoke grenades tied onto one side with a metal wire; two stun grenades similarly tied on the other side. Mounting Mixuki with a grin, she gripped one of the stun grenades, trying to pull the pin out with her teeth like all the 'badasses' did. A metallic 'bonk' sounded in front of her which reminded the NOAH she was wearing a helmet.
"Fucking shit," Tia grumbled, hoping nobody saw that. Pulling the pin out with her finger instead, she hurled the stun grenade at a huge distance with her mere arm. The non-lethal explosive landed in the middle of the barricade, very near the Lieutenant in particular, before erupting in a concussive burst.

Revving up her motorcycle, Tia unleashed the full speed of the machine. The true roar of Mixuki screamed throughout the streets; beautiful, yet deadly. The speedometer's pointer rose up into triple-digits effortlessly as wind howled against the blur that had become Tia. It was bliss. Oh, it was heaven. As her speed rose, she could feel two arms hugging around her waist. She could feel a cheek leaning on her back, and she heard 'him' speak.
"You calm, lanky? Let's replicate what you did back there. It's time for lesson 5."
His voice was a song above all engines. It bought a tear to the eye of the NOAH.
"Yeah, Mike. Lesson 5." Tia whispered, her lips forming into a pained smile. The barricade came closer, closer, and she readied herself.

In a flash, the two pieces of bodywork ripped themselves from Mixuki's slender frame, and the two pieces connected and formed themselves into the shape of a ramp in front of Tia. Still using the cover of her stun grenade, Mixuki propelled itself up into the air with the assistance of the ramp, and everything seemed to move slow in Tia's eyes. Her baby was flying, flying! The motorcycle soared through the air above the barricade, and as it did, the smoke grenades strapped to the right side of Mixuki's pins popped out, and the metal wire holding it slithered away, allowing them to hit the ground in front of the barricade to give Empress the smokescreen she asked for. But Tia wasn't done there.

Tilting back the bike until it was upside down, Tia looked towards the megaphone the Lieutenant had dropped in confusion after the eruption of the stun grenade. Throwing out a hand in the direction of it, the metal parts within the megaphone noisily rattled on the floor, before it whizzed into the NOAH's hand. Grinning as she attained the object she thought she could never get, her time in the air began to fall low as her arching body rotated the bike back around onto its front. Made it just in time for the landing.

"Woah. Not bad. Almost good, in fact."
"Don't lie, asshole. You thought it was awesome."

Bobbing her body to compensate for the fall, Tia's landing was buttery-smooth, and the motorcycle roared as it stood up on its hind legs for a moment, too eager to display its beauty to all. The parts she'd used to make a 'ramp' soon flew through the air and clamped back on to the Blackbird Ultra with a metallic crunch. Continuing to move at a speed, Tia tilted up the visor of her motorcycle helmet, seeming to drive the bike with ease even with one hand as she clicked the 'on' switch of the megaphone.

"YOO-HOOOO~. IS THIS THING ON?!" Tia called into the megaphone smugly, before her voice grew into a more serious yell, her motorcycle drifting in circles as spare pieces of Mixuki levitated alongside Tia's body like bulletproof shields. "LISTEN UP, CLERICS. YOU'RE DOING WELL SO FAR, BUT DON'T THINK OF DOING ANYTHING RASH. THINK ABOUT OUR HOSTAGES. THINK ABOUT THE TEARS THAT'LL BE SHED FROM GRIEVING FAMILIES, ALL BECAUSE OF ONE HASTY DECISION. YOU STAY CALM RIGHT THERE, AND NOBODY HAS TO GET HURT. STAY PUT, AND EVERYTHING'S GONNA BE JUST PEACHY."

With that, Tia threw the megaphone aside, the bodywork of Mixuki levitating either side of her to protect her from gunfire. Speeding off back into the alleys, her vision of Mike's arms wrapped around her dying away as her speed retreated back into the high double-digits, she focused on weaving between streets in an unpredictable manner so hopefully none could follow her. Tia radioed back to Empress with a single word, in a singsong voice.
"Dojyaaaaan~."

 

[Valor]

1 8 0 0

-----

Still inside the coffee shop, Ji Yun had been watching the situation unfold from the relative safety of his window seat. Although his team was now engaged in battle with the enemy, he decided it would be best to not get in the way of things. Once the CLERICs had been thinned out, Ji Yun scurried out of the coffee shop and into the streets, dodging the surrounding gunfire as he made his way across the graveyard of cars that lay between the shop and their objective. It seemed that Sarge was having trouble getting through the front entrance, while Arata and Angsar had succeeded in making their own side entrance across the building.

"My turn!"

Ji Yun dashed across the line of fire, effortlessly making his way to Sarge's side. It certainly helped that the CLERICs had been thinned out thanks to the work of others. Still, nobody expected him to actually fight, did they? As Ji Yun slid into cover beside Sarge, the other six RONIN of Andre's team advanced into their own firing positions. The firefight continued to escalate for several moments longer as the casualties stacked on both sides of the fight. Eventually, the enemy fire ceased as the remaining CLERICs were gunned down by the RONIN and Andre.

"Big Mac, Tuxedo and Firepunch are KIA." Ji Yun remarked over the radio, before turning towards Sarge. "Alright. Let's get inside!" Running up to the door, Ji Yun effortlessly pressed his hand against the security terminal. Using his ELEGANCE, Ji Yun instantly transferred his consciousness into the data network, disabling the building's entire security grid within a few seconds.

"Door's open! I don't detect any hostiles in the open corridors." Ji Yun watched as the steel door flew open, revealing the hallway inside. Before long, the rest of Andre's team had pushed into the building, the sound of footsteps reverberating throughout the halls as the group went deeper inside. Eventually, the group ran into Arata and Angsar - who had essentially used them as cannon fodder to make their own entrance. While Ji Yun didn't mind, he was not sure the RONIN and Sarge would be so forgiving.

"We're at the objective room. The PACKAGE is through this door." Ji Yun interrupted, placing his hand on the nearby computer terminal. Without any resistance, the maximum security door whizzed open, revealing a dark room inside.

Inside the room, was no PACKAGE, but rather a single man. His head was covered by a black sack, his arms bound to the seat of his metal chair.

"This is NETRUNNER to GODFATHER. Can I get a confirmation on the PACKAGE?"

"This is GODFATHER. Put me on speaker."

Ji Yun unceremoniously tossed his radio onto the steel table that stood between them.

"White starts by moving their knight to F3. What opening is this called?"

A moment of silence overtook the room before the man moved, his head pointing in the direction of the radio. The squad stood in relative silence as they waited for verification of their objective.

"Go fuck yourself."

....

...

"Heh. Welcome back, FOXTROT."



----

"This is GODFATHER to all squads. First squad has successfully recovered the package. Third and Fourth squads are to complete their objectives. Second squad must hold their position and provide adequate distraction for the remainder of the Operation."

The strafing attack by Tia quickly disassembled any semblance of organization within the CLERIC barricade. CLERIC officers ran back and forth across the street as they attempted to catch the woman speeding by on her motorcycle. Some patrol cars even pulled off of the barricade to initiate the wild goose chase to no avail. None of this, however, matched the anger that the Lieutenant felt having his megaphone stolen from him.

"Goddamn them! Alright! I've had enough of this! We're going in!" The Lieutenant barked, ordering several men to quickly equip themselves for a breach. Before the Lieutenant could get any further, however, several Armored Personnel Carriers rolled up in the center of the street.

As the hatches to the APCs opened, a large number of heavily armored CLERICs disembarked, carrying a variety of assault rifles and heavy ordnance. "Major Kushinov, 107th Special Cleric Division." A man introduced himself to the Lieutenant. "I'll be taking command from here on out."

The Lieutenant snapped to attention, "Yes sir! What are your orders?"

"Maintain your police blockade, my men are going to make entry. Command wants us to storm the building and take it before the PALADINs arrive. Do you know how many are in there?"

The Lieutenant shrugged. "We don't know. All we know is they took two of our guys hostage."

"Those men are dead. Now, we'll be making a move once my guys get ready. I need you to clear out some of your vehicles so we can maneuver. Understood?"

----

"This is GODFATHER to all squads. First squad has successfully recovered the package. Third and Fourth squads are to complete their objectives. Second squad must hold their position and provide adequate distraction for the remainder of the Operation."


The remaining CLERICs at the Special Operations Base ran around in chaos as Third Squad initiated their surprise attack. They had not expected the Resistance to attack their base, causing in the untimely destruction of both their tank and most of the defenders that attempted to resist. The hatch to the APC was wide open, though the squad still needed to find the keys to the vehicle if they were to continue on with their objective. Now that First squad had secured their objective, the clock was now ticking.

"This is STINGRAY to BACKDROP, we need you to hurry. Reinforcements are converging on First Squad's location. You should be able to find the keys in a large, locked box at the end of the parking lot."

----

Several patrol vehicles chased after Tia as she quickly drove away from the scene. Unfortunately, these patrol vehicles would quickly lose her between the crowded traffic and through her ability to cross into alley ways and off conventional roads. As the patrol vehicles were lost, Fourth squad received the same message as the other units:

"This is GODFATHER to all squads. First squad has successfully recovered the package. Third and Fourth squads are to complete their objectives. Second squad must hold their position and provide adequate distraction for the remainder of the Operation."

Now, Tia and Magna were being pulled into play. They needed to escort Third Squad to their objective, before it was too late.
​

 

[Bismarck]

Sarge perhaps wasn't the angriest person in the world, as he stood, the blood from most of his wounds finally staunched by the makeshift bandaging he'd managed to finish before Netrunner had bravely sprinted forward and opened each and every door in front of them. As he reunited with Lionheart and Razor, it was certainly a challenge for him not to grab Razor and fucking strangle him. However the old man managed to hold that urge back, as they broke into the room with the package. Of course Sarge had to shake his head in utter disbelief! It was Foxtrot, how he had gotten captured was no major concern, but the fact he had been put a good bit of fear in his heart.

Sarge took his armored vest off. He had run out of ammunition awhile ago in the heavy vest, however quite a bit of his ammo was still on his belt, at least eight magazines left for his AK-74, and at this point, the empty pouches were flooded with ammunition he'd recovered from a few dead cleric's pistols, and he'd taken one of the firearms as his own for the time being. "Angsar, we're going to have a word like adults about this, after we get the package out of his hell hole. Lionheart, we're going to work the cowardice out of you one day, I commend that you tried a different approach, but following a thieving coward, who would abandon his comrades, isn't what FEARLESS is about." The old man's last few words were growled, as he let his rifle hang off his body. He drew out the pistol from the Clerics, giving a sigh, he looked over Foxtrot, trying to find any wounds. A knife found its way out of his belt quickly, as he sliced apart the few bounds that held the man in place, "Enough with my scolding...it brings a level of hatred that's unnecessary to the mission. Foxtrot can you walk, or will I need to carry you?"

As Andre spoke he offered his own AK-74, and the magazines off of his belt to Foxtrot in the event he could walk. The old man always had a trick up his sleeve, and being an Ex-cleric, he knew how to operate every weapon in the base itself. "I'm sure there's an armory nearby. Most of us are low on ammunition. I'm sure we'll need to fight our way out, there's no doubt that the bastards are going to send an endless amount of reinforcements for you Foxtrot." Andre explained, a little glimmer crossing his eyes as he thought about what treats, and goodies might be in store in that room. The old soldier's love of weaponry always did shine through, it was part of the reason he so readily gave up his own gear to Foxtrot. There was an armory not too far away! Sure it wasn't going to be fully stocked after the battle. But the man had a feeling a LMG, or a nice new assault rifle was waiting for him. And what does a fighter love more than a personal firearm? Why he adores one that can be easily replenished from dead enemies even more.

However, Andre left the decision up to the rest of his battered team. It was a small detour, however he did note they didn't really have enough ammunition to fight their way out if things did get too rough. Not unless every shot they took was a kill shot, and being as he only had two pistols left to rely on, and an AK-74 with only 240 rounds of ammunition left he certainly wasn't going to put things up to chance and odds. He'd rather rely on more acquired firepower, to get them out of this mess.​

 

[Izurich]

Good work, Tia executed her task perfectly. The smoke grenades should deter the regular Clerics until the elite ones arrived. The megaphone bit was a little unnecessary, but it was within expectation considering the Noah's personality. The confirmation transmission from the blond biker was unorthodox, what was it supposed to mean? Clear success, moderate success, or failure? Fortunately, Karin had been watching through her Garuda UAV so it most likely meant the first. "This is Empress to Tia, objective accomplished, you can move on with your next task. Over" Whatever it might be.

Alright, First Squad should be retrieving the package any moment now since they prematurely assaulted. If not, then they were behind schedule. Ah, finally, a transmission came from Godfather, informing them of First Squad's success. "This is Empress to Godfather, objectives noted. Over." Soon after that, Karin's green eyes reflected the image of APCs arriving at the scene from the screen of her compact PC. "So, they have arrived..." Hopefully Faceless and the saboteurs were following their orders in a timely manner. "This is Empress to Faceless, how is that trap coming up? We need it ASAP, Over."

"Hmm..." Turning Garuda's camera, she zoomed in on the pair of men talking with each other. The one identified as 'Loudspeaker Lieutenant' was saluting the heavily armored one that just arrived. "That must be a superior..." If this man was going to lead the new squad, then eliminating him would disrupt the performance of the elite Clerics. "This is Empress to White Death. Direct your scope to the barricade where 'Loudspeaker' was speaking from. There, you should be able to spot a heavily-armored Cleric, that's a superior and commander of the APC squad. Eliminate him. Over."

It should prove to be no trouble for White Death. Moving on with her plan, Karin programmed all three of her dogs to go towards the first floor, arriving by Faceless' side. "This is Empress to Faceless. An APC will charge through the wall soon. If done properly, your traps should temporarily halt its movements. Immediately eliminate the driver, throw a couple of flashbangs into the hatch, and send the drones inside, they will eliminate the crew with minor damage to their apparel by biting off their jugular. We will need them for disguise. Over."

 

[Zombehs]

Oh? Was it finally time to get to work? Magna tapped the button on the corner of his tablet to pause the game before he shifted around to seat himself properly in the cockpit. "Tia, this is Tinker. Go help out Squad Three. I'll clear a path to Squad One, over." Strapping himself in completely, he nodded to himself as a steady hum began to fill the empty room. Systems were all green which was fine and dandy, but he still needed to figure out a path from the Special Operations Base to the military complex Squad One had just hit. Hmmm…

"Empress, this is Tinker. I need your Garuda to take look at these roads, over." With a few taps, he sent the cherry picked paths to the Seraphim's computer that she generally carried around. With any luck one of them might actually be clear, but with all the chaos it was more likely that there would be abandoned vehicles and other obstacles in the way that the APC could not afford to get stuck on. A mechanical hiss filled his ears as he grasped the controls and raised ED-100 from its crouched position. The low roof meant it couldn't stand at its full height, but it was more of just something to do to pass what little time he had before storming out.

"Huh…" Halting abruptly, he looked around the cockpit for a few moments before he ended up scratching at his head. 'Where's the remote?' Patting himself down, it didn't seem like it was in any of his pockets anymore… He certainly could crash through the metal door, but that was more of a last ditch solution. "Damn," he muttered to himself as he unbuckled himself from the seat and shuffled about to look underneath it.

 

[Jakers]

"Roger that, Empress, it's been a pleasure. Over and out~." Tia replied, before cutting communications with Team Two for now. Her work was done there; hopefully what she'd done, even if it was relatively little, slowed down the assault of the CLERICs thanks to the smokescreen. Either way, it had all been worth it to see that look on the Lieutenant's face. Looking behind her shoulder, Tia struggled to hold back laughter as she noticed they'd actually sent some vehicles after her? Wow, had she angered them that much? Today just got better and better.

"Ohhh nooo~. I'm being chased by the fearsome government, whatever is a poor maiden in distress like me to do?" Tia whined in a dramatic manner, before smirking, her voice taking on a somewhat malicious tone as she muttered to herself. "Morons. You should be grateful I was given non-lethal orders. You're fucking lucky you can't catch up with me... so don't tempt fate and consider it a blessing."

Flipping a middle finger behind her as she swerved the motorbike into an ally with an ear-piercing screech, the woman's body huddled down as she dodged fleeing civilians in the alleyways, and wove inbetween heavy traffic in some sort of graceful, petrol-induced dance. Even the tightest of squeezes, Tia made look effortless atop Mixuki. Every movement, change of speed, and swerve of the bike was trained. Trained by the best of mentors, and assisted by the best machine she could ever ask for.

God, she loved this thing. All the painful memories that came with being a NOAH were made up for, just because of the fact she got to ride this beautiful vehicle. Tia felt blessed.

Suddenly, orders came in from the big father himself. Huh, first squad were done already, huh? She wouldn't expect anything less from a team lead by Sarge. Hopefully Team Three could be just as speedy; Tia was already heading back to the rally point she'd discussed with Juniper, and didn't want to wait around long at all. It wouldn't be long before the CLERICs bought in 'PALADIN' specialists, and there was no fucking way they'd go against one of those without heavy causalities. Also, APC's. APC's? APC's.

"Copy that!" Tia yelled over the wild screams of Mixuki, initiating a heavy lean rightward to escape the main road. Pausing to repeat her previous statement once again, this time to Tinker, it wasn't long before she was at the rally point. Going in personally to meet Team 3 seemed like a bad idea, just in case they were still taking things stealthily, as the roar of Mixuki's engine would compromise everything. Switching radio channels,

"This is Tia to Team Three! I'm at the rally point and ready to escort the APC to the target zone! CLERIC forces are ramping up, so get that thing moving ASAP!" Tia looked around, noticing the lack of CLERICs around the area. "Huh, you actually managed to sneak in there and take them by surprise? Tell Witchy I'm proud of her~! Over!" Tia yelled, before dismissing her motorcycle and switching channels yet again, this time to her mechanics team.

"Four more smokes, four grenades, remove the stun, get it DONE!!" Tia blinked in realization. "Hey, that could be a poem!"
"...Why am I assigned to such an idiot..."
"Fuck you; I heard that!"
About twenty seconds later,
"Requested equipment ready for deployment! Be advised that we can't provide many more smoke grenades for your mission! Over and out!"
"Record time doesn't change the fact I'm gonna kick whoever said that in the dick when I get back~!" Tia chirped in a mostly joking manner, before clicking her fingers and bringing Mixuki back to her side.

She pocketed the fragmentation grenades, as a stray bullet hitting those would be kind of catastrophic. The smoke grenades could stay strapped on the side though; that had worked a treat back there. Revving the Blackbird Ultra up once more, Tia could only wait from this point and hope things went smoothly from here. Hopefully Team Three was close to getting the APC ready by now.

 

[RedArmyShogun]

Erja Liikanen - Team 2

​

Peering from her firing slit, it seemed Team One had penetrated the structure at two points, hearing the occasional rifle round from where Ire was it seemed she was at least helping with the thinning, but as far as she could tell all the guards in the Exterior were dead, the Sergeant as was called seemed a bit wounded, and the sword boy seemed to have snapped. "..." Once more at a lose for words she was impressed they all had breached... Well not all, she seen at least one of theirs dead and doubted that was the only one.

Before she can analyze the situation more fully an order comes in from Karin, not bothering to directly verbally reply, Erja makes her way to the barricade side, peering from behind a car, while it through the magnification off it considerably lessoned the chance the soldiers would notice her. It seemed no warning of her from Team One's side had reached the APC Team, though they should have civilian reports about large rifles being seen on site.. Regardless it didn't matter for now, a man with the markings of an LT was saluting and engaged with another man in heavy Armor, who seemed to be exiting the APC with a grouping of other soldiers. They all were heavily armed and armored including heavy weapons, those would be a problem given a chance.

Sizing up the men and situation, he seemed like a rather well trained man, no doubt he would have a 2nd in Command that would need to be dealt with as well, but as things stood that one would be difficult to find for now. Moving back from her position to find Ire.

"Keep up here and provide fire on the armored troops if you want.. engine blocks of the patrol cars.. But wait till I fire, and don't stick around too long.. They are being serious.. After that act as ordered or you believe you should..and.."

Letting her gaze linger briefly it wasn't exactly sure what she was thinking but it seemed a bit of hesitation was there, finally breaking eye contact the Sniper keeps low and heads for Deck Four.

Switching to her PTRS and shouldering the SVD on her back, Erja passes a couple of the riflemen who seemed to have been setting up defenses of their own for some sort of Crossfire for anything coming up on them, while she suspected she would eventually need to retreat to this floor, for now she was here as there was one job she needed to do. "..One shot only.."

Working her way past the cars and rifle squad, the White Death finds a simple everyday Silver Sedan parked about 30 feet back from the edge, climbing on from the back and sliding her way along the roof she gazes out with her scope to get a general read on the area as shadows help her blend in, just another bulky shape away from the edge. Chambering the PTRS's first round of the Magazine a faint click-clack sound is muffled by her green poncho, taking a heavy breath and releasing it, work was to be done.

Taking Aim a brief few minutes later, the Major seemed to still be getting his men ready with APC's taking up the spots squad cars were treating from, in orderly lines, the man had to be a mechanized infantry commander, he didn't seem to be suspecting a sniper wither, or he should have stayed in the APC to carry out orders by radio. Thinking back to when she was 13, this situation was much like back then. A tall proud commander well respected by his men standing in the open to give them courage looking forward with gallantry and purpose, least this one wasn't standing up from a hatch.. Aiming for his head, her aim drops to his groin section, adjusting for recoil.

And just like back then, a grim look of determination takes her eyes, with a soft smile beneath her mask. With a deafening loud BOOM the 14.5mm shell speeds from the weapon to the Major's center of mass, at under 300 yards the shell impacted nearly in unison with the sound. Spent shell casing slamming into a near by truck, shattering its driver side window, before settling in the seat.

Kicking up dust from the source with a bit of muzzle flash, Erja wastes no time rolling off the car after confirmation as the massive PTRS rifle round rips through the armor at chest level, plowing it's way through the Major, splitting his body in half. Intestines flowing out on the ground, the round continues through him and into another waiting trooper leaving the man screaming as his left let with the hip suddenly ceased to be. With Blood seemingly showing its path the AT Round them slams into the pavement, ricocheting to spiral and tail spin into an APC with a loud clang. Adding further chaos to the carnage the round sprawled into fragments from its side impact spraying a squad with shrapnel, though not life threatening it did leave some men bleeding or diving for cover.

No sooner does she roll off and away from the flash is her former position let up with whatever firepower could be brought to bare, with chips of concrete, metal and glass falling down around her in bits and pieces. Erja hurriedly sprints running as fast as she could to be away from the position before at worst an RPG or cannon shell impacted, using other cars for cover, she breaths heavily as scared lung tissue tastes bitter filtered air. Hopefully her partner sniper drew some attention and kept her head.

Erja then sets about already planning her next attack on the gathering of troops, APC's or heavy weapon men would be next priority and the darkness of the lower levels would be her cover. Still running with the PTRS clenched in her hands, and finger well away from the trigger, Erja pauses loud enough to reach for her headset. "White Death, One probable commander down, collateral damage on infantry Squad. Will continue to provide sporadic support if met with lack of orders.." Almost as if bored she makes way for the third level, there was now a potential Aide to locate as well..

Eventually she may have to head for the roof to deal with any counter snipers, though perhaps her partner would be of use with that.​

 

[Rax Rosetta]

​

Ansgar resisted the urge to grin like a madman when the battered, bloody Sarge came marching in with the remaining RONIN and Netrunner. Look who took so long to get into the building, just like making a frontal assault was a bad idea or something. Having beaten them inside the compound, with far less damage and efforts, merely meant that he had the better plan in the situation. Sarge be damned about what he might actually have thought about his little actions. Though, the man had the stones to lecture him on having words later, and telling the kid that, while trying alternate approaches, following thieving cowards like him was not what FEARLESS was about. If looks could kill, the glance that Ansgar shot Sarge would probably have not left even enough for DNA tests to verify the remains. "Actually, Sergeant, what FEARLESS is about right now is getting this package out, by any means necessary. Call me all the names you want, but you got lucky with Netrunner there being able to get to the door. We made it in well on our own, and clearly were on our way to the objective. Results mean more than your words or ideals, friend. Don't sweat Sergeant too much, Lionheart, you made a good decision. No sense getting yourself shot to hell for a chance at getting in, when you could flank and take advantage of a distraction and guarantee getting in."

It was a fundamental difference in outlooks and methods of operation between the two, and while Ansgar would love nothing more than to turn Sergeant's insides into outsides, self righteous bastard that the ex CLERIC was, he resisted since, after all, they had a job to do. He wanted to have words later? Fine, he could harass him at the bar. But right now, it seemed like they were finally at their package, where he finally allowed himself a grin. Apparently the PACKAGE was none other than that tough son of a bitch Foxtrot, and that was meant in the best way possible. Keeping an arrow ready on his bow, he watched the group go about their business. Pit stop at the armory was suggested, which the timing was mostly dependent on how long it would take for the APC to arrive. "A pit stop for you to steal more toys would depend, mainly, on how well the other teams are doing at their job. We can't afford to let the APC sit out front like a sitting duck, waiting to get taken out with explosives or worse."

Unsurprisingly, Razor was against the pit stop at the armory. Sooner in, sooner out, that's the way he saw things. They had the PACKAGE, it was time to make tracks and get out to meet up with the APC. After that, it was out of their hands really, and they could scatter and go about their business. Seemed several RONIN from the team had gone down, unsurprising, since a frontal fucking assault on a fortified compound was the only option that Sarge seemed to have the idea of working. Blood was on his hands then, really, and the former slum rat would have no qualms at all with pointing that out later, should they come to blows on the matter. The ammo situation might not be so dire if Andre had waited for the diversion team before kicking in the front door or, hell, waited for Netrunner to do his damn job and drop communications for the compound. But no, the man had to be an impatient berserker and go screaming into the fight. One more reason he hated working with the other veteran, daft son of a bitch was used to kicking doors in, screaming down civilians, and being a thug. He expected nothing less from an ex- CLERIC, and one that was a traitor at that. But for now, he kept his mouth shut, worse came to worse, he'd walk FOXTROT out of this hellhole his way.​

 

[Astros]

PAT! PAT! PAT!​

"Shit!" The CLERICs on the ground cursed at their bodies being overwhelmed with putty. The drones were making quick work of them and the bases defenses as they continued to loom overhead. Those without weapons or working limbs were forced into cover, helpless to do much but look on and wait. Wait and hope for a way to turn things in their favor.

As if to answer this desire, a red armored truck barreled its way into the lot. Hosting a four man squad they quickly deployed and seemed to take control of the situation. But within minutes that notion was quickly dispelled as a woman in glasses destroyed the main battle tank next to them. Clearly a NOAH, the CLERICs concentrated their fire on her but to no avail as she turned the lot into ash with ease. What hope was left vanished as the final nail to their coffin was being driven before their eyes.

There would be no survivors.

______________________________________________________________________________​

"Shotgun! Unless you want me to drive." Making his way out of the truck, Rubel had swapped his black clothes for a fresh set of CLERICs armor. Wielding an assault rifle, he aimed to put on a show for the CLERICs and any who would be watching. "Hey CHAOS. Could you help load up those boxes there." He said nodding to the pile of munitions, weapon crates and MREs set to the side. "Thanks!"

With that he stormed onto the lot and took aim at his creations. Letting off a burst, the intention was to miss by a few inches in order to get their attention. But with the explosion of the tank behind him rocking the area it became unnecessary as they hovered toward their direction. Beginning to engage Rubel and Juniper on the ground their first target was their creator who tactically rolled to evade a shower of pellets in time to nick a rotor.

Not being enough to take it down it required Juniper's well placed second volley to send it to an early grave upon smashing into the concrete. Running up to finish it off, Rubel stopped in his tracks as all around them magic circles began to appear. Light aqua and pulsating red light, as the light peaked waves of heat poured out of them and flooded the ground.

It was not hard to know who's they were as Rubel turned around to where the tank once stood and saw Chaos under a hail of lead. Confused if not a little disappointed he simply stood for a moment and watched as the CLERICs and fences were turned to piles ash and molten metal.

Their plan of deception all but null and void at that point, he scratched his head as Chaos took care of the CLERICs and returned with the keys for the APC. Looking briefly to his mangled drone on the ground, one rotor still spinning, he gave a shrug before finishing it off with the remainder of his magazine. Tossing the plastic stick into the APC he would have to load it himself it seemed.

 

[Bismarck]

There was almost a small growl that rose up in Andre's throat, as Angsar tried to tell him what fearless was about. He was still covered in dried blood, he tossed the knife he'd used to Foxtrot free up into the air, before catching it in his palm again. The old man wasn't going to wait until he was at the bar to speak his mind, "There is no luck in what I do, only calculated plans. There is much blood on my hands today, but only to retrieve this package. You are just as you have always been, a scared fucking coward. I remember watching people like you, run, and fight like rats on the streets, in my training videos, and everywhere in life."

The old soldier continued to play with his knife, trying to calm down a bit for what he was about to say next. He was readying himself for a fight, he knew the words he was going to utter would be cruel, and wrong in every sense, "You understand what they do to rats, don't you? They exterminate them in a cleansing fire. I know how the clerics wiped out your entire existence, I know because we watched it live in my classrooms. You survived only because of luck, and nothing more. And that luck of yours will soon run out, and you will be caught in that same, consuming flame." Andre remarked, spitting on the ground. he'd taken a fighting stance already, the look in his eyes daring Angsar to strike.

"You know the sound a cleric's flamethrower makes don't you? That horrifying, purifying whoosh. It's so loud you can truly convince yourself you don't hear the screaming. And the smell of napalm is so strong, you can just barely catch that scent of burning rats. Your death will come just like that. Unheard, and unseen. Blocked out entirely by someone else, and their glory." Andre knew now he couldn't back down, he watched the man carefully, noting the bow still and an arrow in it. His own hand went toward the 1911 on his hip. It wasn't a smart time to pick a fight, but Andre had spent so many years alongside this man. Always tried to get along with him, and to no avail. He'd officially lost his motivation, or to desire to care about this person, an all consuming rage permeating his thoughts whenever he looked upon the cigarette smoking thief.​

 

[Rax Rosetta]

Ansgar watched the man toy with his knife, as he began to speak, and, perhaps to the surprise of those present, he didn't move. Not the quiet, antsy sort of back and forth idling as someone listened. The dead set calmness, the absolute stillness of the grave, the sort of quiet that Razor would only get when he was beyond angry or irritated. Ok, he wanted to do this now then? Fine, fuck it, he wanted to be loud, boorish, and a raging bastard? Fine, they could both play this game then. Things tended to be fine between them when it was the loud, angry sort of back and forth. People in command were likely panicking right now, because to someone who didn't know the man listening to this CLERIC, this fucking traitor of a CLERIC, lay into the street rat, he didn't move, didn't blink, watching Andre reach for his sidearm just in case. Talk of him being a coward, and taking a fighting stance, yet he was scared that he would go for his bow, put an arrow in him and call it a day. It was tempting, but no, that was too easy. Too quick. For a scant few moments, as visions past ran through his head, it was dead silent, the comments hanging in the air like an oppressive fog.

Then, he started laughing. It was low at first, barely a chuckle, then rose in volume, laughing like a mad man in the face of this CLERIC, this piece of living trash that dared to lay judgement on those beneath him by virtue of status. His grin was not a kind one as the laughing subsided, the laughter not a good sign at all, his gaze dead even, an old flame burning within them. Almost like it reflected the flamethrowers that the CLERICS used to torch his home. He wanted to play cruel games? They could play cruel games, since Andre wasn't the only one that did his homework. And, unlike Andre, he literally had nothing left to lose, it made him a dangerous figure to square up with. "You know something? You've always been a funny case. Speaking of watching the videos, hearing the stories of these heroes of the CLERICS, exterminating rats with as little effort than kindling has to an inferno. You know what they didn't show you? The causalities, the cost that the slums exacted, so called rats devouring the cats that hunt them. You know what a better sound is than the sound of a flamethrower? The screams of the man wearing it, as the safety seals are punctured and incinerates him and his squad. Just like a flame in the hurricane."

Ansgar slung the bow over his shoulder, calmly walking over to the man, squared off with him. To a casual observer, the height and weight differences were absurd, as was the overt training difference as well. But, for Ansgar, this meant nothing at all. Andre had asked for this fight, and it had been twenty years coming now, too damn long in his books. But he wanted to play punches at the past? So be it, he did his homework after all. "You talk a bold line about a cowardly thief, yet you fail to look into the mirror. Stealing a life is as simple as slashing a throat, or as in depth as leading a squad of CLERICS to slaughter the peaceful life of two little girls, orphaning them and leaving them to fend on their own, uncared for, abandoned by the man who claims to have saved them. How are they, by the way? Those two girls, left all alone in the world, any sense of a normal life destroyed by a man who claims to have saved them. Funny definition of saving you have, really, saving them from the love and care of their parents."

"Growing up watching training videos of the slaughter of innocents, the burning of homes and lives, its little wonder you've such a lovely outlook. How was it, being a slave your whole life to one cause or another. Being little more than a trigger man for some shadowy power that be, who disagrees with something, just some hired gun that seems content on getting those around him killed for the sake of being a grand warrior, a slave with a gun playing at being hero. I wonder how they feel about their hero, the dead RONIN out there, every innocent you failed to protect in that coffee shop, knowing you could have waited for the distraction team to engage properly, tried to be subtle. I wonder if Big Mac and Tux are happier, being dead on the streets together." Ansgar was looking him dead in the eye the whole time, unwavering, arms at his side as if not going to throw a punch. But every fiber in his being was alive, thrumming, ready for the moment that the tension broke into conflict. He had lived for this moment, watching the glory boy finally break, finally give up and lose hope on something ever changing. He was nowhere near as eloquent or as well spoken, but he focused every word with precision, the tone not quite hostile, but with an edge that could have cut, if it were more solid than mere words. But, words can do damage, and the words Sarge used? They brought this upon themselves.

 

[Bismarck]

"Oh I may have been the slave. But you are a slave to your own anger and failures. You let those worthless, screaming rats hold you back. You're no better than any of them. I let two soldiers die today, but they didn't die alone. They died with me fighting." The old man growled, as he pressed in closer, his knife at the ready to strike. A wicked grin crossing his face, a terribly look of anger in his eyes. There was a fire burning in those eyes, burning like a bonfire of pure rage and hatred. He pulled out his handgun, but not threateningly. He looked it over for a second, "Look at this you coward. My guns took the lives of many Clerics today, men who were my friends many years ago. Your weapons have spilled less blood than mine...those lives lost, could have been avoided, if your corrupting touch didn't ruin everything we embody."

Andre let out a heavy breath, as he slipped the pistol back toward his holster, still keeping it drawn in case Angsar lunged out. "But those people you call your family. They died to let you run away, like you always have. You didn't die as a comrade, you fled as a coward. You're nothing more than a fucking husk, your true self is dead. Burned away just like the flesh of your family. And for that I smile." Even the Sarge's face took on a rather sinister look, as he examined his knife for a brief moment. His calculating self was always brutal, but he knew at that moment if Angsar made a move, it would be purely rage, and nothing more that would spur him onward. All self control would be gone if the other man swung.

"You are the one person, that makes me wish I had remained a cleric. I would have been a paladin, tasked to exterminate you. And you're worthless body would no longer be allowed to steal my oxygen. You wouldn't have made it a week if I had finished my training. And even now, you won't last a minute if you dare to swing at me. But you won't, you're a fucking coward. Nothing more. You'll wait, patiently to strike me, pick the most dishonorable time and moment and bury a blade in my back." Andre growled the words out, taking on a more feral look to his eyes, and his features. He was just a few inches away now, his face daring to press against Angsar's. The sound of the hammer of his pistol cocking back. A grin that begged for a fight, just like the fire in his eyes did. "At least Clerics offer a fighting chance. Unfair yes...but still a chance. But you, you're just a coward. You're not worth the air, or the time it took to make you. Razor is your name...and yet you're as dull, and forgotten as the blades of your rebellious slum, that lay in piles of ash now."​

 

[Izurich]

Still passively monitoring the stalemate situation, Karin kept a watchful eye over the hostiles around them. Each minute spent without any charges from the Clerics surrounding the parking lot meant the squad was executing the 'distraction' role perfectly. Since First Squad had already retrieved the package, they'd just need to wait for extraction by Third Squad. Even if Backdrop and her team failed their task, the black-haired girl had a contingency plan. However, it carried a higher risk of casualties.

A slight static from her earpiece signaled an incoming communication from an ally. This time it was Tinker of the Fourth Squad. "Since White Death has identified the target, I suppose I can accept the request." She concluded in her mind, "This is Empress. Data received. Affirmative, I will send the analysis results to your device. Over." Fiddling with her PC, Karin fed the data from Tinker to her UAV then programmed it to take a quick survey of the designated paths. It wouldn't be a completely thorough analysis, but it should be better than nothing.

While Garuda worked, the girl noticed Erja in her peripheral vision. So she intended to take firing position from here, alright, as long as she could accomplish her task. A short moment later, a loud bang echoed within the fourth deck followed by broken windows. As Garuda was busy accomplishing Tinker's request, Karin could only assume the anti-armor bullet hit its mark... and more. "This is Empress, excellent work, this should buy us more time. As for next orders, PACKAGE has been retrieved so for now, go ahead with sporadic supporting. Over."

The UAV finished its scan and Karin immediately transferred the results to Tinker's tablet. It should update his display with the best route picked with shortest ETA along with alternative routes with longer ETAs. "Empress to Tinker, obstacles will be mostly abandoned civilian vehicles. You may encounter a few APCs along your way. Upon arriving at your destination, expect resistance from enemy squadrons. Over."

Everything should be smooth sailing from now on... unless the unpredictable happened such as internal fighting among the squad members. "Hmmm... Chaos is a risk factor in Third Squad, but still, she should still be able to follow orders from Backdrop. As for First Squad, Sergeant and Razor, old vitriolic rivals... hmmm, highly unlikely as this is an important operation." Oh, if only she had known.

 

[ERode]

The Second Evil, Liecutter.

Waltz of Fire, Third Form.

Noble Phantasm, Tsubame Gaeshi.

Pray Style, Raging Bloom.​

Moving at superhuman speeds, Arata wove through a hell of bullets, metal slugs slamming into furniture, walls, screens, but never himself. The few Clerics left within the compound, those who had stayed behind in order to maintain communications or who were still performing clerical duties during the chaos, never had a chance against the NOAH. One had his throat torn out by the shockwave of a sword swing. Another was set ablaze by the flames that rushed out from the friction of Regana-Hier against the floor. The third was sliced into three equal pieces, unable to escape anywhere. The final one was turned into pulp and splattered against the walls when the Weapon of Massacre tore into his abdomen while spinning.

In less than half a minute, the pristine facility became a slaughterhouse, one that Arata didn't even spare a glance at before rushing further in, on a terrible high of violence. Security cameras were smashed. Doors were cleaved apart. Automatic defense systems, scant as they were, were pulverized, and soon, Arata stood before the final room, not a single speck of dust or blood on him.

His breathing, amazingly, was normal compared to his fearful hyperventilation from before.

But even when there was nothing but wreckage all around, his eyes remained frenetic, inkstone orbs flicking around from side to side, always imagining the possibility of a camouflaged enemy, of a hidden trap, of rigged explosives, of a variety of things. None of those fears were realized though, not when the others came. First Ansgar, and then Sarge with what remained of the RONINs. The big man, the retard, and the well-dressed lady weren't there.

Regana-Hier dissolved into amethyst threads, and the color drained from Arata's face.

People had died. And Sarge definitely looked pissed. He could see it in the older man's eyes, even as that hateful gaze was directed towards Razor instead of himself. The veteran's commendations were lies, just attempts to make him feel comfortable about his own position, so Arata wouldn't be as tense in his presence. But he knew. He had ignored Sarge's orders and followed after Razor, even though Sarge was in charge. If he had participated in that front line battle, perhaps the three that died would have lived. No, there was no 'perhaps' about it.

They definitely would have lived.

He had caused their deaths.

Even as the PACKAGE was rescued, revealed to be the poster boy of the rebellion, all Arata could see were the hard expressions on the RONINs faces, and all he could hear were Sarge's words, directed at Razor but pointed at Lionheart.

"I remember watching people like you, run, and fight like rats on the streets."

He ran, always on the move, clutching a blood-slick handle in a man-made hailstorm. They fell one by one, their deaths always too slow.

"They exterminate them in a cleansing fire."

He watched them burn, rolling in agony as he escaped by himself. They reached out for him, lips melted and hands blackened, unsalvageable.

"You're not worth the air, or the time it took to make you."

He killed to survive, a baptism of gore. But, no matter how many he killed, he could never protect. He could never save to live.

Arata felt like vomiting, but regardless, he pressed on alongside the men and women who would one day spell his death. Sarge's words rang in his ears even as the aggressive duo was being left further and further behind. No one else was interested in getting involved in their drama, not when the mission wasn't finished.

Because nothing was over until they came home.

And so, nothing was ever over for Arata.

 

[Rax Rosetta]

​

Ansgar didn't back down either, letting him spit and fume about being held back by his kin in the slums. The continued accusations of cowardice were little more than hot air being blown at him, such claims never got his hackles up at all. People routinely saw him as a coward for not fighting openly, even if they themselves were injured and killed in combat. His response to his accusations of striking in a dishonorable, ignoble manner was a simple question, despite the hate and anger in his eyes, that smirk that adorned his face remained as his hands drifted to his pockets, producing the pack of smokes and a lighter from earlier. Producing one, he asked a simple question, one simple question, eyes never moving as his hands went through the well practiced motions. "Stand among the ashes of the countless dead and ask them if your honor matters. The silence will be your answer."


Ansgar blew the smoke right into the Sergeant's face, hands returning both items to his pockets and remaining there, tauntingly relaxed in the face of such rabid displays of force. "You speak of honor, of wishing to have been a Cleric just to put me down. Spoken like the rabid dog you are, almost as rabid as you are shallow. A tin soldier, wound up and sent marching to war, to revel in it. Killing with guns is easy to absolve and pedantic in execution. Point, squeeze, gone. In the blink of an eye, a man is a corpse, a woman, a casualty. A child, a martyr. Hiding behind guns and armor, you preach of being honorable, of killing them head on, yet your a greater coward then any of us. No pausing to watch the blood drain from their face, the life leave their eyes, the involuntary spasm and struggles to cling to life, taking a life means as much to you as shopping for groceries might mean to some lucky man's wife. Not that you would know beyond ruining such things, mind you."

Ansgar had hands on both his blades, the balisong and collapsible sword, hilt facing so the blade would be upward when deployed, however, that faint grin remained. He had pushed the man far enough, finally, to break him, something that made him keep grinning in the face of the man who was so enraged, so angry with the fact that a street rat like him hadn't just stood his ground and died. "You preach a good line, but you've become no better than me. A hired killer, different tools, same goal. Opposites on the same coin, and you finally broke, finally realized it, for as angry as you are, for as much as you bluster. And for that I grin, because no matter what happens next, it'll stay with you for the rest of your days, long or short that they may be. The cool, composed Sarge, father figure to all, reduced to a blustering, enraged brute looking, begging for a fight in every way but direct words. Seeing that realization, that submission to your baser instincts, speaks more than your words ever would. All you are is a battle mad dog, too useful to be put down, with no place in the world outside of war. You wander from fight to fight, always preparing, always hoping to be slipped the lead a bit more each time, to get to do more damage. It's fortunate you quit when you did, Andre. You would have been a piss poor excuse of a fucking Cleric."

The only sound would be the snick of the blade snapping out, passing through the fabric of his jacket pocket like nothing was there at all, the blade not even an inch from the major artery in his leg. Ansgar had no name for it, lacking the formal education, yet he knew it would bleed a man dry in an alarmingly fast manner, with difficulty to stem the flow of, by bandage or tourniquet. If Andre so much as twitched wrong, one casual press of the blade would send life blood spurting from the artery, and the cold anger in Razor's eyes would show it. "You did get one thing half right though, ex-Cleric. I have no qualms about putting a blade between your shoulders whenever it would suit me, and there isn't a damn thing you could do to stop me. Though, don't forget, I'm just as capable of stabbing you in the face as I am the back. You're not worth the time it would take to clean off the blood you would stain my blades with, but if you are so desperate to die, I can happily oblige you. Join your comrades in hell, perhaps? Maybe you might catch a glimpse of those girls parents, forced to watch from above as their little girls suffer alone in this hellhole of a city, finally face to face with the man who led their executioners to them." If Andre was so desperately looking for a fight, well, Ansgar had just thrown the gauntlet down for him, cigarette almost acting like a bridge between the two men, Ansgar not having moved one budge as he kept looming closer and closer. He could try a great deal of things, but with how wired and adrenaline heavy he was running right now? Good bloody luck.​