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Lance Corporal William µSmart-Ass¶ Barron

Year: 2267

Venture City, Industrial District

Orbital Drop Marines ± Designated Marksman

It is a hot summer day on the planet Sled, population: 2,000,000,000

and declining every day. If I didn¶t know any better I¶d say it was the marines
that were responsible, because we kill everything we see that isn¶t sporting the
Venture flag, white flags don¶t count, surrender is for the quitters. I¶m Lance
Corporal Barron, but the rest call me µSmart-Ass¶ truly I¶m flattered. The
year is 2267 and war is nowhere to be seen anymore, these aliens mustn¶t
know what war is, that is why they sent us. The Orbital Drop Marines also
known as The Black Rifles or the Devil Dogs, we were sent as part of a relief
force, a sign of good faith towards the locals.

I sit in my little foxhole, christened µSmart-Asses Den¶ and think about

the regular things a combat-fatigued soldier thinks of: the mail my brother
sent me, how my brother is doing in school and how long until the enemy
grows a pair and actually hits us damn-it. I spend 6 hours in my den with the
rifle in my hand, swigging this Jotuun piss excuse for an alcoholic beverage, a
local brew the humans call µBRAIN BASHER¶ bad-asses need only apply... It
got its name from the rumour that circulated around it; apparently it can
cause several problems to the human brain, and to the Jotuuns? It is used as a
mild alcoholic drink, a ladies drink to them. It helps steady my hand, it lowers
the heart rate and relaxes you, even in the face of an actual µattack¶ a word
now alien to me, I¶d feel relaxed and very hungry. I burnt my way through a
couple days of µmisplaced¶ food supplies after my first time drinking a full
bottle.

It is a warm day, hour 7 of the planets 13 hours. The mornings always

come with a red sky, promises of rain but to no avail and warmth. This planet
is for retiring, not fighting. As I look through the custom scope of my rifle, a
modified rifle. One modified by the military, back in Sister¶s Bay on Venture,
where I trained. The Lt. who thought us how to shoot decided that for the
squad¶s D.M (Designated Marksman), there should be a special rifle, one that
is more versatile and can adapt in many situations. The rifle was a slightly
altered version of the P.A.R (Pilgrim Assault Rifle), the standard issue
weapon for the average Black Rifle. My weapon though, it was an alienated
version of the new M-P.A.R (Marksman -Pilgrim Assault Rifle). It had mods
that were either µsouvenired¶ or bought through trading or with actual
currency. It was cold, steel, unloving, loving and even soft, all at the same
time. I had bought with my hard earned, and really it was hard earned, cash.

Me and my favourite are perched in my den, one the side of a hill, on

the defensive line. We are in the middle, the weak point in the glorious Mako
Line, our little sand bag town. The middle is the weakest but we have the high
ground. The middle point is home to three hills, home to 3 firebases named
Firebase Eagle, Hawk and Turkey. I and the squad are at Firebase Turkey,
the eastern one. There is about 1,000 yards of space between us and Firebase
Hawk. We have it worse by far I think. Since on Hawk they are always
hanging around and relaxing and at Eagle they are fixing up vehicles in the
sun to fight boredom. Whereas we have to hide from the sun and dodge enemy
mortars or grease their sappers. The enemy are smart enough to recover most
of their dead, while killing recon squads and throwing their booby trapped
bodies onto the barbed wire right in front of our positions. Ghost stories and
confusion run rampant. We have enough ammo to grease every last one of
them and enough iron to bury them alive but they seem to be winning?

The enemy is another civilization, a rather mysterious one, µThe

Malicers¶. They have abducted merchant ships that stray too far from
civilization like sea monsters. Of course when there is no proof that the
Malicers do this, there are no revenge missions. Until about 6 months ago
when a Malicer ship nicknamed µIron-side¶ shot at a Venture Military cruiser,
the V.M.S Arbour. A large ship with 5,000 people on board, it was
transferring personnel to Husk, a human colony where a rebellion was about
to break out. The Malicers came from nowhere and fired a round from its
main cannon, whatever technology they have, it was damn good. It ripped a
hole in the ship. The people in the bottom half of the ship were killed, but
those in the front half, from the barracks to the control centre were saved.
The ship had like all others, a lockdown and damage control system. Our
whole platoon was there on a zero-gravity training exercise. As we were
suiting up the ship was rocked by the blast. As soon as we were at our
positions for defending the ship, the Malicers were gone. War was declared 2
months later after huge debate.

Now we wait and rot on Sled, at this point we pray for a little action. I
have to watch like a hawk for enemies. The only thing I have killed so far is
about 32 giant rats. They live everywhere there is food or happiness and
comfort. They move in and devour it, leaving us as sad, hungry killers. The
Malicers are elusive and I haven¶t seen one face to face. Only their backs or
some blood, their blood isn¶t like ours, it¶s brighter. More oxygenated I¶m
guessing.

As I sit in my den looking out over the entry to my domain, a 200 yard
gap. Filled with mines, trip flares and devil¶s wire and guarded by over 100
guns and bodies watching over the kill-zone. If an attack came, they¶d have to
send the stupid ones first because nobody in their right mind would attack our
position. As I wondered how the hell I ended up here and not working in the
docks, I heard somebody trudging their way up the hill towards my humble
abode. Zombie. µHey Smart¶ he said, only barely lifting his hand to salute me,
exhausted from the heat and the heavy lifting he had to do, as my spotter and
support gunner he had to be my unofficial slave from time to time. While I
searched for heads bobbing around, he made sure I had enough lead and the
necessary supplies. He got his name from a disorder he had, it was rare and
all. He experienced times when his speech became slurred and h is joints hurt
so he moved like a zombie, when he didn¶t take his medication anyway. When
he did, he was a model soldier. He was a really tall guy with black hair and
eagle eyes, the squad¶s spotter, a special role. His job was of course, to spot
enemies and to designate airstrikes or other such things. When not dodging
bullets anyway.

Zombie sat down next to me and lay on his back with his shirt open; he
declared µI am done¶. It was going to be another long day but word is there is
going to be an attack on the Venture Military positions. I had heard a few
reports suggesting so but never pay attention to them. More of them are
coming about though. As if on cue to disrupt my thoughts the radio starts up
with Cyclops, the radio man on the other end saying µHey -o Smart-Ass, all
clear up there?¶ I put on a heavy voice and say µYes mil -lord, the humans are
dead, still fucked up though.¶ He laughs and says µSure thing lord, Crash says
to send Zombie down¶ I needn¶t tell him though because he hears it over the
radio and groans as he gets up and says µComing dear!¶

Cyclops got his name from the helmet he wore, it was one he found a
while back which was custom built for communications expert and spotters, it
was rarely used since it was hot in there and it could restrict vision. He wore it
with ease and even made a few µmodifications¶ with his bayonet, to ventilate
the helmet. He claimed the helmet was useful because it had a zoom -in mode
and other such perks. He was with the rest of the squad at the bunker, named
bunker 1. In the bunker Crash, our staff sergeant and squad leader, installed
some weaponry that a truck ³accidentally´ left behind while delivering to the
more secure Fire Base Eagle.

The bunker was well concealed and home to 8 Heavy Machine Guns
called Viscerators made by Humans on Minerva, the home of war. A
Viscerator was a lightweight machine with an under-slung weapon, a grenade
launcher, a flamethrower or even a bayonet cou ld be mounted. The machine
was tough and deadly and anything that stuck its nose into our perimeter was
dead. The gun was mounted by 1 man as well.

The bunker held most of the squad. Aside from me and Zombie in my
den, Bug our heavy weapons expert who worked in unison with heavy
machinery, who was in a little dugout above the bunker, he called it µThe
Hive¶. It was ridiculous, it was a small enough bunker with all sorts of
weaponry either salvaged or µrequisitioned¶ (stolen). He got his name from
how he looked. He was an average sized man with a bald head, he wore these
round eyed goggles with pitch black lenses and was always working with
machinery while covered in sweat and rarely ever wearing a shirt or
maintaining basic hygiene. He just seemed like an ant slaving away in a
modern factory. He preferred to work alone; along with Bug were the Missile
Launcher Team, Sam µDim¶ Belette and Jimmy µBuck¶ Roebuck. Dim fired
the launcher and Buck just pointed out where to shoot, they were in a nest like
mine on the opposite side. Dim was dim and Buck was a clever fucker.
 The rest were in Bunker 1, during the attack our Runner Edwin Edgar
µEdgy¶ Stoker would have to relay messages if the radios the military kindly
gave us actually turned out to be useless piles of scrap metal. He was definitely
not right... He was almost constantly on edge and looking behind him. He was
fast though and could remember the messages, never forgetting them in the
confusion of an attack. Besides them, the bunker had 4 riflemen, Lover-Boy,
Straight Arrow, Preacher and Marty. They were the pack mules of the squad.
Straight Arrow was a crack shot whereas the rest were wild shots; it was in
their nature as riflemen. The squad medic was Valentino µVal¶ Valencourt. He
was an educated man from the nice part of Venture city. He was always
checking how we were and never liked killing people, he¶d patch them up but
shooting just wasn¶t his style, he always carried the standard issue Kestrel VI
Handgun. He left his P.A.R (the standard issue rifle) in the squad¶s transport.

When Val wasn¶t fixing up people, our demo man Irvine µTorque¶
Bogden was making holes in them. He personally designed our deadly maze of
devil¶s wire and explosives like a crazy Daedelus. He was definitely a psyche
case. A section 8: pyromania. I loved the explosions too, applied to the
engineers where they¶d assign you as either an engineer or a µboom-man¶.
Torque would paint himself in white paint with all sorts of weird designs, he¶d
jump onto his sand bags and start hollering and whooping when his charges
went off, crazy mo-fo. Before grim missions Marines did such things
traditionally but he did it constantly. Come to think of it, we were all batshit
mad. Speaking of batshit insane, the man who held us together and in return
we had to take bullets for, Staff Sergeant Collin µCrash¶ O¶Malley. The
group¶s old man, of 42 years, he had non-regulation curly blonde/ grey hair
and was the sole survivor of the original 66 th squad, from a battle against
raiders, our squad was jinxed but we were all alive on Sled, Sarge knew it
wouldn¶t stay that way. He said to us before we hit the ground that he was the
only important one, and that he was going to win the war, all he had us for
was to absorb Malicer ordinance, and he made us damn good at our job. I¶ve
already been shot twice during live fire training, nowhere important.

The man who takes over for Crash when he bites it or goes insane is the
mean and vicious Mikhail µButcher¶ Broga. He spoke decent Human English
but always spoke slowly and roughly. He was in charge of a team anytime we
split up. He lugged around a Viscerator and a Caesar Shotgun and used the
riflemen as pack mules. The other men who had the HMGs were Lewis
µLefty¶ Mc Eliwaine and Tomkins µKnox¶ Knoxville. Lefty was a lucky mother
and Knox was a heavy veteran of another squad, the squad was re -assigned
after some kind of war crime was committed.

And in Bunker 1 behind the tech and communications was our engineer
Korin µSev¶ Sevrin the engineer and Gant µBoonie¶ Cleric the technician. The
engineer drove the squad transport and made sure it worked and the
technician dealt with alien technology or anything technical our comms expert
didn¶t have covered. Sev was enigmatic and slightly sick minded whereas
Boonie was an avid knife collector and inquisitive in all the wrong ways. He is
famous for questions, not always logical.

Also in the squad was a man called Shrike, he was tight with Broga but
had a stronger sense of morality and had unbelievable restraint, well
disciplined. He grew up in Vera as the son of a hunter, he was thought all he
knew when he was young, he never spoke much of his past, I only knew the
basics when a Commissar asked him at boot camp, or as we call it ³Zero G´.
Shrike was missing, still in the city. He was wounded in some accident.

That was the entire squad, Zombie and I were in my den, Buck and
Dim were in theirs, Bug was in his hive and the other 14 were in Bunker 1
which flew the skull and cross bones flag, the Jolly Roger. It was Torque¶s
idea. Anyway, I spent my 6 hours watching nothing through my scope and
was called down for shut eye and then a well rested and medicated Zombie
took my place with the proper sniper¶s rifle, the Far-Sight Sniper Rifle. He
had his P.A.R perched on the sand bag wall with him just in case. We
exchanged only a few words with each other, he knew I was spent. As I walked
into the warm and moist Bunker 1, I realized it stank of sweat, grease and as
if something was burning. Torque was cooking up something, a kind of soup,
he told me it was chowder made of random run-away pets he found. I
wouldn¶t be surprised.

The sleeping area was in the far rear of the bunker, made of wooden
logs and metal supports. The room had 19 sleeping bags and kit bags as
pillows, with weapons and unnecessary crap tucked into the empty beds, and
tired troops in the occupied ones. I was sleeping between Bug¶s sleeping bag
and Lover Boy¶s. He was still wake and fiddling with his dog tags whereas
Bugs sleeping bag had a Viscerator tucked in, it had painted on in the name,
Precious. I reached over and turned the safety on just in case.

Lover Boy tries to make small talk but soon he becomes tired and gives
up, by the time he is asleep I start to feel like actually falling asleep. I hear a
loud whoosh. And then everything is turned upside down. Lover Boy is
already bolt upright and panting as if he was awoken from a bad dream, he
gets them frequently. I just sit up and roll out, still in my underpants I picked
up my P.A.R and run outside, grabbing a helmet off the desk as I go. The rest
of the squad are shouting and mounting weapons, the clinging and loading of
weapons can barely be heard over the guys shouting. Cyclops is frantically
talking into his headset and Crash is hollering µEnemy in the wire! Light µem
up!¶ The man is crazy. Edgy is beginning to panic and look around for a safe
place. As I run outside I hear Bug¶s Viscerator start firing, the sound rules
over all others. Until the squad in Bunker 1 join in I can¶t hear anything else.
I was half way to my den when one off Torque¶s charges goes off, a big one. A
fireball rises in the air along with a loud boom. I can already see Zombie
dozed off as he is loading the sniper and rubbing his eyes. I yel l µEnemy in the
wire, either a stray dog or we¶re fucked!¶ He only nods, he hands me the
sniper and I hand him the P.A.R and he is familiar with it as I am.

I scan the wire in NVG mode looking for the first guy who wants to be a
hero. I can¶t see any, Zombie says the same thing. Then thankfully one of the
poor bastards trips a trip-flare. The second flare they tripped, the first was a
dud; it lit up for a few seconds. I realize the enemy isn¶t shooting at all, just
taking it. I assume the other men see the enemy. The Missile Team is rushing
to their posts in their pants and socks. Dim is hefting the launcher as Buck is
carefully holding active missiles. An accident in the making. I took the radio
off the hook and got through to Cyclops, µWhere is the enemy Cyclops?¶ He is
cursing and groaning. µI dunno! Just shoot at anything that looks like a head!¶
I don¶t feel right, I wait until the second flare is as bright as it can get. I see
little black figures with black armour; they have armour covering their limb s,
heads and upper body. I can see their pale skin and the shiny black armour.
They are hacking through the devil¶s wire; a couple of bodies are there. A few
are red masses and some are beached on the wire. I aim down the scope at one
guy, he is huge, even from this distance. A huge man with a hammer in one
hand and a big handgun in the other, he looks like the head honcho. His
armour is amazing, a giant helmet, it has narrow eye holes and is crafted out
to look like a face with long hair and a long beard w hich protects his upper
chest. I zero in, I have him. I fire and can feel the bullet flying towards his
skull.

I see the bullet strike his head. There is a load of sparks and bits of
metal fly off, he falls back and I feel satisfied, I think of the helmet I¶m going
to souvenir. I¶m about to move on and I see something that makes me freeze. I
see the huge man get back up and look right at me. He taps one of the men
with his black metal boot and point in my direction, then he looks at me again,
right down my own scope, now he has me in his crosshair. I see a shadow get
up from a mass of bodies, he has a big gun with him, I don¶t know what it is.
Then I see a smoke trail and a bright flash. A missile. I yell at Zombie to get
out and I run myself, leaving behind most of my ammo. The missile zips
through the cold, moist air and hits the sandbags. The den is destroyed. Sand
and sandbags fly everywhere. One barely misses my head. I sprint to Bunker
1 and wait by the entrance. I try to sight the missile launcher, when I get him I
see he is trying to load the launcher himself, I pulled the trigger and he
collapsed as his chest imploded. The tall man looks over at his dead comrade
and looks at the rest of his men, I can¶t see. He orders them to fall back, I
don¶t shoot him in case he tries to blow me up again and I feel as if he knows
that as well.

They bug out quickly and I leave them be, Torque and Bug probably hit
a few of them. We wait until sunrise before moving out into the kill zone,
carefully mapped out and planned to hold back the Malicers at every step. By
the time it is sunrise I try to salvage anything I can from my den, the place is
ruined and the ammo was burnt and obliterated. There was only one casualty
and that was when Lefty burnt his hand on the MG barrel. We walked
through the kill-zone to check how the traps were; I immediately went to
where the tall man was. There is blood everywhere, I see a few bits of flesh
and some abandoned weapons such as the missile launcher and a few other
curious items. I¶m only interested in a few fragments on black metal, from the
tall man no doubt. The fragments are big and I don¶t know of anybody who
could survive a round from the F-S, a body shot is lethal but he walks away
with a headshot. All this junk and not one stinking Maul body. Not one. And
they¶ve thrown captured Recon team bodies on the wire in Fire Base Hawk.

The whole squad assembles in the bunker when we finished checking

the defences, looking for enemy things and reloading the MGs. Crash begins
talking µListen up, we were lucky last night. The entire line was attacked,
Eagle was bombed to kingdom come and Hawk was almost completely wiped
out, they must¶ve thought we were a recon post or something. We are alive
and that is the important part. The base down by Pintus was hit hard, all the
building were levelled, the official word is over 2,000 dead and half of that is
wounded. The Brass has called for us to retreat but not before we booby trap
the hell out of our little home for the Mauls. We were ready, the rest got
sloppy.¶ That¶s what they called the Malicers, Mauls. He continued µSev, you
sort out the Armadillo, we¶re bugging out within the hour.¶

So Sev sets out with Lefty and Preacher to find the tools that always
seem to be in short supply when needed, to fix the Armadillo. Crash is slightly
pissed that he doesn¶t get a shot at the enemy. He continues µWe¶re falling
back because the Jotuun military is in disarray and Firebase Hawk and Eagle
are non-existent. We are being re-position to the city of Commissar¶s Reach
itself. According to command, and we all know how fucking great they all are
up there, the Mauls are looking to hit CR itself, but they couldn¶t because of
the cities strong air defences. Thanks to the dead pricks in Hawk and Eagle
the defence systems have since fallen into enemy hands, and instead of using
them against us, the Mauls blow them up in our faces.¶ He stops talking and
takes a deep breath. µThat takes balls, and I didn¶t come this far from
Venture to have a bunch of barbarian pricks blow up my beloved corps and
question the testicular fortitude of my squad. Get ready; if anybody was to
blow up that battery, it should¶ve been us.¶

Within the hour we pack up everything and mount the Armadillo, a

long tank like vehicle designed for off -road, and considering how most of the
airstrike our guys called in missed, there aren¶t any roads left. The Armadillo
has a passenger section at the far rear, complete with firing ports and puke
buckets. As well as 6 mounted weapons plus 1 at the back door. Then the
driver¶s section was bristling with weapons, the Venture soldiers loved to
strap weaponry to almost everything. The drivers sections was what you¶d
expect it to be, tight and cramped but the outside section had a rocket pod on
each side, a door gunner on the passenger¶s side for fun and a top gunner,
armed with a minigun. We rolled on through the little road we had running
back to Commissar¶s Reach, the road was marred by craters and rubble. The
squad was mostly silent aside from the odd guy asking for something like a
lighter or some tool.

Then I was called up to take a turn as the top gunner, passing Lover
Boy on the way up. Top gunner was a bad spot in bandit country because they
were usually first to take a hit; though it was tough to hit them unless you
were above the 4 meter high Armadillo. I was up just in time to see the city of
Commissar¶s Reach as we left the road. Directly down the road to our right
there was a small recon station. Recon stations were mostly used as guinea
pigs, and they knew it. When a recon station was wiped out it meant the
enemy was now there. We slowly rumbled in, the recon troopers looked at us
surprised. They were hit the night previously, the bastards got through Fire
Base Hawk. The recon base had a small building surrounded by sand bag
fortifications. There were only 4 men standing there, all dressed in just their t -
shirts and baggy cargo pants. Next to them were a lot of dead men with white
sheets over them, covered in bloo d. One of them shouted to Crash who was in
his place as door gunner µ83 rd Recon?¶ Crash responds µ66th Squad, 1st
Battalion, Orbital Drop Marines. I heard they were wiped out back at Hawk.¶
The men all sigh and look distressed and Crash doesn¶t miss a beat. He sighs
and says µYou know I went to Zero-G with Lieutenant Anders. You can hitch
a ride with us to Commissar¶s Reach.¶

So we rolled on past the base, the bodies were left there for any that
passed. The 4 men were with 83 rd Recon which went dark the night before.
They were beached on the wire at Firebase Hamlet which was a couple
hundred yards behind Firebase Hawk. They only got to shoot at shadows
bearing dead men. 83 rd were all but gone. Crash spoke to brass on the radio
for a few minutes. Later he walked into the crew area of the Armadillo and
said µWelcome to the 66 th Squad boys.¶ He then asked them their names, the
shortest one, who seemed to be the leader, spoke first µGunny Thom Lounds,
they calls me Short, cause o¶ obvious reasons.¶ He had an odd accent, he had a
full beard and black short hair. The second was looking out of the firing port
and said µCor-pal Harris, Allen, sir.¶ As if he was only talking to Crash, he
responded µDitch the sir, I ain¶t some poser officer, I fight for a living.¶ The
guy just nodded, he was very tall and had µLegs¶ written on his helmets. He
was a runner for the 83 rd. The third said in a calm voice µI am Sgt. Necta, I
run the comms sarge.¶ Crash nodded his approval still analyzing them like a
predator. The fourth man was sitting bolt upright and blinking rapidly, Necta
spoke for him. µHe is Denelly sarge, he¶s not all there after last night. He
found a full squad of Jotuun recon on the wire; those fuckers are hard to kill.¶
He took out a pipe and said µAnd I was on Nimbek with 4 of them. I saw those
guys walking out of craters.¶ Necta was a calm man with dark skin, he was a
career soldier and looked at Crash as if he knew him from somewhere.

After smoking his pipe for a small while he loosened up and asked
Crash. µHey Staff Sergeant O¶Malley, you aren¶t CRASH O¶Malley, are you?¶
Crash just smirked and said µYou caught me Byron!¶ Then Necta just said
µFort Raygun, Sister Harbour... You were a wild-man from 24th. I went for
Combat Correspondent but brass took my camera, apparently I was a danger
to moral.¶ Crash smiled and said µYou always were...¶ The 2 laughed and
Crash announced to the squad µSergeant Byron Necta, AKA Nex. He served
as a god damn correspondent on Nimbek with the battalion.¶ Broga just said
µDamn paparazzi...¶ He was at the rear door gun.

We rolled into Commissar¶s Reach at midday to the sight of broken

shop windows and MPs. A few Maul bodies were being displayed on the side
of an APC, each with their dog tags around their necks. We came up to Point
Zulu, a fancy manor house, which the rich owners abandoned at the sight of
trouble. We entered the area looking rather fresh compared to the 4 men of
83rd and the wounded and decrepit men of our own 1 st Battalion, 3 rd Platoon.
We were greeted by Commissar Raskov. Commissars had the nasty job of
disciplining men and shooting µcowards¶. Raskov was followed by 1 of his 3
Deputy Commissars, a man called D.C Mournes. A hollow and mean
motherfucker, men even planned to frag him, blaming friendly fire. He was a
bastard but a well decorated one, the more conservative soldiers followed him.
Raskov was old for our standards, 63. He had white hair and a curling
moustache a kind and fair leader.

µStaff Sergeant O¶Malley. Glad to see you made it, I see your all in one
piece. We need as much men as we can get here. By the way welcome to Point
Zulu. This place is under Commissar Du Hoc¶s command; I¶m just passing
through myself.¶ Crash just nodded and we all looked around at the state of
the area, men wounded and dead, and the enemy hadn¶t even showed up yet.
This was caused by traps set up by traitorous Jotuuns who believed the
Malicers would go easy on them for the assist. I looked over at one man, alive
but burnt up badly, his clothes were burnt black. And his face had a shes and
soot all over it. He was just struggling for his last few minutes of life. Val
didn¶t need to be told to help out, he immediately began assisting men while
the religious figures of platoon gave the spiritual ones their last rights and
blessings. I never followed religions, there were so many of them as well.

Commissar Raskov continued to take our minds off of the injured.

µMen, we need you to help out, Private... Williks, assist Jenkins with the
comms, he¶s on the roof.¶ Williks was Cyclops¶ surname. Ovyllen Williks. He
immediately took off his helmet and hooked it to his utility belt and said µAye
aye Commissar.¶ He always spoke like a marine, he was transferred to
infantry after his unit was involved in a live fire accident, a soldier went
insane and shot up most of the squad, he survived because he dozed off in a
closet. Commissar Raskov looked at O¶Malley and took off his officer¶s cap
and said µI understand 83 rd was... Eliminated with 4 survivors, I saw them at
Hawk today while looking for survivors. Are these the survivors?¶ He asked
while looking at Sergeant Necta, who was handing his pipe to Short for a
smoke of it. Raskov didn¶t care for a soldier¶s habit. The pipe was a cool
looking one, an ivory coloured pipe with ebony bindings around the pipe itself
and it was a simple pipe.

Raskov looked over at the wounded and said µI see your medic is
quite skilled, he takes to it like a fish in water.¶ He hesitated, trapped in a
thought. µSergeant, I want all able rifles up on those balconies, I wan t your
sniper...¶ He looked at me and immediately recognized me, the guy who got
shot during the first live fire trained. µSmart-Ass here, and put him on the
roof.¶ Some of the guys sniggered or held back giggles as the 4 men of 83 rd
thought of it and only Necta seemed to have heard of it. He just smiled though.
Raskov held back a smirk as well, he continued µSmart, take your spotter up
to the roof facing the way you came, I don¶t want the Malcs running up our
asses.¶ Malcs, another older term for the Malicers, I preferred it but only
seasoned soldiers used the word, I didn¶t use it just to be safe that it had
ulterior meanings. I simply said µYes Commissar¶ and tugged Zombie¶s utility
belt which had grenades and ammo pouches hanging from it. He fell in afte r
me as we walked through the main hall, a roofless courtyard surrounded by 3
levels of balconies. We began to talk as we slugged it through the compound,
trying not to stare at the wounded.

As I walked to the first set of stairs I was surprised to see another

member of our squad Lance Corporal Ishaak Janus, AKA Shrike. He was a
close friend of Butcher and came from the same place as him, some marshy
area way outside Venture city where most of the squad was from. He noticed
me first though µLance Corporal Smart-Ass.¶ He smirked at me as I said
µShrike, you crazy mother! I thought you got banged up pretty good.¶ He
wasn¶t at Turkey because as we were shifting gear into the Armadillo to go to
Turkey, he was knocked down by a recon jeep and received a concussi on. He
was in the field hospital at Camp Bacon for a week and a half. µHow¶s the
head?¶ I asked and he just nodded and said µI think it hurts to think but aside
from the odd headache and fear of brain damage, I¶m fine.¶ Shrike was
unpredictable; he could be a model soldier at one stage and then a solo animal
the next. He was our CQC expert.

He stood up and opened his sleeveless jacket and exposed an orange

vest with black erratic design, he wore teeth around his neck for luck, I could
still see blood on the long fangs. He saw me studying them and said µLargreki
teeth, killed it when I was a little boy, the teeth¶s cleanliness reflects on your
readiness for battle and willingness to accept it. Also they are lucky, they live
long after their owners, to steal them is a death sentence in Vera, my home.¶
Zombie grabbed the back of his head and said µGodamn Weylak¶s.¶ That was
the name... Zombie¶s condition was known as Weylak¶s Syndrome. Shrike and
I walked ahead while Zombie lagged behind searching for his pills. µSo Shrike,
how¶d you get here?¶ He sighed µI knew whatever was left of the Firebases
would rally here, I knew you bastards were hard to kill. How was the fight
against the mighty Malcs?¶ I took out the piece of the tall man¶s helmet and
said µThis was the closest thing to a body we got hold of, I shot him in the face
with the Far-Sight and he got back up, but his buddy went down quick.
Bastard blew up my newspaper and a couple vox-tapes. They were recordings
I was sent by my brother back on Venture, movies I missed and whatnot.
Shrike just stared at it and said µThis piece feels dark to me, describe what the
man looked like.¶ I searched my mind and said hesitantly µUh... Tall, muscular
and he had black armour. The helmet was a big mask of a bearded man with
a calm passive face, the beard extended down to his torso to protect the sides,
as far as the hip. I hit him in the forehead with a regular round. He got back
up like I said.¶ Shrike¶s serious expression left his face and was replaced by a
smile as he said µYou took a shot at a high ranking Malc, a colonel by our
standards. I heard a few of the intel spooks refer to them as ³Sentaurs´. Other
more war ravaged men called them ³Demons´.¶

I placed the now, seemingly heavier lump of black metal in my pouch

again. It was a small enough piece of metal. Probably worth some money, but
I wouldn¶t sell it for the life of me. Shrike said µKeep it for good luck.¶ Zombie
caught up with us and said µWell I bagged 3 of them, and they didn¶t get back
up, not to mention about 9 stray animals the week before.¶ Shrike laughed
µCongrats Zombie, 9 confirmed and 3 probable equals... 21 enemies dead.¶
Zombie just frowned at him. By the time our conversation shifted to why we
were here we had reached the sniper¶s nest on the roof, a nice little sandbag
home. I saw Cyclops fixing some equipment with Jenkins, he was the most
experienced one of the comms people there. He was a spook, a behind the
scenes man used for gathering intel and hacking into enemy communications.
He was so good that even the talented Cyclops was nothing but a pair of hands
to the short bald intel officer. As I set up the sniper on the bipod I could see
Bug in the small building to our right instructing a few newbies how to put
together the big guns. Newbies were what we called the newest of the new,
who¶d only received the minimal amount of training, about 2 months worth.
We received 3 months of it, mainly because there was no war then. They were
clueless of whatever wasn¶t thought to them during training, one of them was
fumbling with one of Bug¶s favourites, a minigun called µHelghant¶. I handed
Zombie the M-P.A.R I had slung around my shoulder. He just propped it
against the sandbags and want under a tin canopy for a quick sleep. If he
wasn¶t sleeping he was staring into space.

I never cared though, he did his job when he had to and slept or day
dreamed in between. I took the time to walk around the area while Shrike
wrote a letter to his Grandmother back on Venture, she was the family
Matriarch. A skilled hunter from the stories he told. In Vera the only loyalty
was to family, they were seen as tribal savages to the rich pricks in Venture
Financial District, the bourgeoisie of Venture who had their asses handed to
them any time there was a major sporting event in which Verans attended.
The sickly teams from Industrial, the well funded Financial, the tall and
spaced out country boys from the Valkyrie Grasslands and the savages of
Vera. Any other team came between the terrible Industrial teams we always
backed for fun and the animalistic athletes from Vera. Financial held grudges
against everywhere but the Financial. The only guy I met from Financial who
wasn¶t in any sense of the word a snob or holy-than-thou poser was Valentino
Valencourt, Doc Val. The Valencourt family were down to earth (a phrase we
still use) family with relations in the colonies. Val joined up after leaving
medical school when his brother was killed during the Malc invasion of Mid as
Spirit. His brother was an up and coming novelist.

As I walked around I saw Preacher, Lover-Boy, Straight Arrow, Marty

and Lefty. Lefty greeted me in his usual happy voice µHey there S -A¶ Then the
others all acknowledged me. Marty was drinking Human al cohol which was
considered a rarity on this damn planet. While Straight cleaned his weapon
and Preacher was awoken from his light sleep. Lefty began scanning his
Viscerator back and forward muttering about how he was going to blow away
the first Malc that came within range. We all knew the attack would be
coming. Marty began to talk about home and his family as I left. He was a
family man from Industrial with a lot to live for, unlike most of us he had
children and parents to look after. I went down to the second level where men
rushed to and fro to defend and maintain the area. Point Zulu was like an
insect hive preparing for some hostile invasion. I made my way through and
saw Val fixing the bandaging on a man who had lost his left arm while
another man lay still staring at the ceiling waiting for Val to bandage his
shrapnel peppered legs. I saw Boonie examining a souvenired Malc weapons,
a large pistol, similar to the Sentaur¶s, which had no buttons but only a
trigger, they were trying to figure out how to eject the magazine, the pistol
was metallic and they figure out the shards of metal that the Malc armour
was made of unlocked the weapon when a man pulled a hand from his bag
with a Malc gauntlet on it, the man was Commissar Du Hoc. He was a famous
joker but a well respected man.

He lectured them on how to take down the foot soldiers which didn¶t
have chest protection and what he thought they were like when it came to
social hierarchy, he was a learned and intelligent soldier. I passed them while
listening µYou see men, the average Malicer soldier is simply uneducated and
kept ignorant of the outside influences to the point that he is willing to die just
to have a shot at one of us, they recognize human ranks and are thought to hit
the superiors. Smart little bastards aren¶t they?¶

Next I saw Crash alongside Necta both smoking his pipe and
reminiscing on the days before the war and their military experiences. Then I
saw Lt. Short with Legs both trying to talk to the absent minded Sergeant
Denelly they called him Vic. He was able bodied and quick on his feet but he
wouldn¶t talk whatsoever aside from the odd mumbling and answering yes or
no. I passed and nodded at Short µSir...¶ He raised his right hand to salute me.
He said µThis fucker is gone¶ to which Denelly replied µNo...¶ and L egs said µAt
least he isn¶t gone catatonic.¶ And Vic said µYes...¶ They continued to try and
reach him and I kept on wandering around. I saw Raskov arguing with the
big man at Camp Bacon, whoever it was. µI need reinforcements at Point
Zulu, anything Joe.¶ Must have been Colonel Joesefi, a real tight ass but he¶d
remember a favour. Then Raskov stopped talking and listened for a while
µThanks Joe¶ he turned to Mournes and said µWe¶ve got a little bird and 4
armoured cars with meds and ammo on board. Most they can spare,
apparently the city centre is priority. I walked past and sat next to the ledges
overlooking the courtyard down below to see the other men talking with 64th
squad under Ssgt. Omaha. Crash salutes Omaha, the mad man with a star
nailed to his helmet.

Point Zulu has in total half of the squads from 3 rd Platoon, the 66th
under O¶Malley, the 65 th with Lt. Hertz. And we had 64th under Omaha, what
was left of 63rd under Lance Corporal Amhud who took over for the dead
Ssgt. Seiter and Sgt. Roberts, and finally 60 th under Lt. Donovich. The attack
wasn¶t going to be a piece of cake for either side. I saw Bug walk in to the
courtyard followed by the tired newbies of the 95 th Infantry who were all at
the hospital, where Raskov borrowed the muscle. Bug had them carry all his
things that were not need to the roof. I nearly felt sorry for the newbs.
Everybody hushed up when Captain Monroe entered. He was in charge of 60 th
to 69 th squad, if he said it, it was true and it was law. We liked him; he always
wore t-shirts bought on Venture under his fatigues. Well liked by the men like
I said, but when need be he was an animal. He stood at 5 foot 8 inches but
seemed to be a giant to us. He smoked like a train and spoke with a voice of
complete authority and calmness. He just walked straight past us and nodded
in our direction.

The sergeants were among the men shouting orders. I saw only 2 other
sniper teams, Dawson and Tharpa were one team from 64th and Klark and
Nhut were another from 60th. Tharpa was wounded with a patch over his eye.
A sniper with poor depth perception, poor bastard, they saw me and called me
over, we all trained together as marksmen to be assigned among the 3 rd
battalion. I walked over and told them about how I got shot during live fire
with my squad and asked Tharpa about his eye wound, he said µAh, it¶s
nothin¶ at all, I can see only red with it, and can¶t even piss right anymore.¶
He was a good spotter and still had to perform regardless of his injury. In
sniper school I was at first paired up with a guy called Johns but he was killed
during an exercise, he freaked out during a machine gun drill and lost his
damn head, literally. It was knocked off his shoulders and rolled over to me;
the face was still terrified, staring right at me. Later I was paired with Nhut,
but we were both designated as snipers and Zombie was set with me at the top
of his class as a spotter.

Nhut was short and loved his job whereas I did it because it was either
that or the factories. I left them to their job and went into the room ahead; I
had wondered what was in there. I saw a motor pool, and Sev was talking with
the driver of one of the armoured cars Raskov had been given. The armoured
cars were called Rovers. They were armoured and mobile with a roof gunner
and a small area where about 4 stretchers could fit alongside a passenger and
a driver. We had 4 of them and 3 Armadillos. I saw that some of the wounded
were being loaded into the Armadillos, including ours. Those that could stand
were mounting the vehicle¶s guns. I shout at one guy who was the rear gunner
on our Armadillo µHey, ammo is under the seat to your right!¶ He looked
there and pulled out a full box of high velocity rounds and immediately yelled
his thanks back, just as the Armadillo started rolling and he put his helmet on
over his shiny shaved head and loaded the gun, one foot on the vehicles and
the other dangling over the 1 meter drop. When the sound of the engine
vanished I could hear the pounding of artillery shells and the crunching of
machine gun fire from a few blocks in front of us. I rushed to the sniper¶s
nest; all the people I met on the way were manning their posts at the
appropriate windows and door-less arches leading into the building. I realized
that we had the cover and high ground. Our 3 story building was surrounded
by buildings only 200 yards away on each side all bombed to hell to ensure the
enemy wouldn¶t get the jump on us. As I woke up Zombie who was still hazy
after his sleep I saw Torque and his fellow boom-men walking quickly inside
the building.

By the time everybody was prepared, even wounded men stood at the
defences, one man I saw was coughing up blood but refused to take a seat. He
held a huge MG. Dennelly was sitting in the courtyard rather casual looking
clutching his gun like a child while the more serious men gathered around
him, still like statues waiting for the enemy to reach us. Commissar Raskov
was standing in the middle of the holding his customized Maverick Mk II
revolver. D.C. Mournes paced the first story holding an officer¶s sword and a
pistol, patting men on the back in encouragement. D.C Du Hoc was with the
men he had lectured earlier all behind a sand-bag wall, he had a P.A.R with a
grenade launcher nicknamed µThe Spud Gun¶. The rest of the rifles were
watching anxiously upon the open fields where the enemy would come
rushing. I could hear the radio Cyclops was speaking into, he took cover with
me and Zombie while talking into the radio to Point Zebra, the point that was
under attack.

µRepeat Zebra, what is your status?¶ The frantic reply came from the
area guarded by 34 th Engineers and 16 th Infantry. µThey¶re inside the
compound, Captain Evins is down, Commissar Rut is down... We can¶t fall
back. We...¶ Then the radio cut out as the operator screamed. µFuck!¶ Cyclops
yelled and said over the radio to Commissar Raskov µDid you hear that sir?¶
he said µAffirmative Williks, just stay on the horn for air support when I say
so.¶ Cyclops responded µAye Aye.¶ And put his helmet on, the inside lit up as it
recognized his face. The helmet was used to recognize soldiers and serve as a
head¶s up display. Mostly mercenaries used it.

I waited as still as I could be, then it became to rain, it was already very
dark. The rain thumped off of the tin roof covering the radio post. Cyclops
covered the sensitive equipment with a plastic sheet. I turned around as I
heard light footsteps. It was Twombly. He had a Viscerator HMG and spoke
into my ear. µDu Hoc says the enemy is in the area as we speak¶. I shuddered
at the thought, I hadn¶t seen anything yet. I just thanked him µThanks
Twombly kid...¶ He was only 17 at the time he enlisted which was 9 months
ago. He fumbled with his radio handset which was tied to the top left area of
his flak jacket. He was breathing heavily and quite anxious looking. I said
µGet back to Du Hoc, you¶ll do fine man.¶ He ran all the way back.

I waited with Zombie, I wished he would soon tell me the location of an

enemy in his usual calm voice. It began to rain heavily and with a bolt of
thunder came the first projectile, a spear. It came hurdling from the abyss
and struck one of our men. He shrieked and just gave in, he died right there.
The man beside him, his buddy just yelled µA fucking spear!? I¶m out man!¶
he took off running. Then with the next bolt of thunder came a demoralizing
wail of a horn. Then each time the thunder struck, I could see the light reflect
off the black armour, they stood line by line, wading through the kill-zone.
Before a single trap was set, I could see the gun positions in the buildings to
my front left and right, under Bugs command, light up. Then he was followed
by a whole wall of lead, I donated a few bullets . Even a couple rockets were
launcher in the direction of the armour clad horde.

Then a second lower pitched horn sounded and the horde fired back.
More spears came flying, alongside actual rounds being fired. High velocity
rounds came towards us, bright blue lights zipping towards our position. Then
the screams and yells could be heard emanating from the horde. Then the first
trip flare was set off, a whoosh and the feeling of extreme heat hit my face.
The bright green light illuminated the field below. The horde came closer and
closer, now setting off trip mines and booby-traps. I saw a whole group of
about 15 take cover behind 2 trucks and not realize that they were rigged to
explode, I shot their leader in his unprotected head, only wearing a black
hood. As he fell somebody detonated the explosives and incinerated the group.
Soon the same horn that first sounded, could be heard and the horde
retreated in the same fashion they had approached except slightly more
frantic and with less energy.

Soon, like the rest, I woke up. As if it was a dream, like déjà vu... When
you suddenly realize you killed 24 enemies. You¶d been waiting this long for
action you fool, and all of a sudden you¶re surprised. Even the Commissars
back at basic said it µYou will kill or be killed, and don¶t be surprised if all of
a sudden you wake up and smell that smell, feel that sensation and realize
what you¶ve just done.¶ That was said by Commissar Petrov, our Commissar
at training in the Harbour. As I looked around the roof I saw the radio
equipment had a spear in it, lucky shot. That Val was attending to man who
got hit with the spear and Zombie was checking himself for wounds in
disbelief.

Cyclops walked up to the radio, looking around him he stared at the

field radio and took the one mounted on his back off, he placed it on the
ground and pressed a few buttons. Soon he began talking to forces at the
hospital which was less than a kilometre behind us. We were their last line of
defence. Holding the hungry Malcs back from the wounded and vulnerable, a
voice came through the radio headset. His helmet had a built in headset and I
picked up the other one. The voice was female and I recognized it, one Lt.
Boyde. We shipped out to Sled with them, one of their vehicles struck Shrike.
µThis is Lt. Boyde, we got those supplies and men, thanks. What¶s your
status?¶ I couldn¶t hear Raskov talking and said µWell we ain¶t dead as of yet.
I¶d say pretty good... Ma¶am.¶ She asked µWho¶s on the line?¶ I doubted she
recognized me. µLance Corporal Barron, 66 th Orb...¶ I was cut off µDamn-it
Jester, get someone with some common sense on the line!¶ She recognized me,
although she always got my name wrong.

Then Cyclops sniggered µYeah JESTER¶ to which I replied µShut the

ever loving fuck up!¶ And remembered I was talking to a C.O and Cyclops.
Luckily she heard Cyclops¶ remark and didn¶t request I be reprimanded.
µJust pass me on to a C.O!¶ As if to save us from the angry lady, Du Hoc ran
up the stairs with a bit of blood running across his face and with his buttoned
shirt, half-ways ripped. He immediately saw me and Cyclops huddled over a
working radio and immediately reached out and said µGive it here, moron.¶ I
handed him the radio headset and he said µThis is Du Hoc of 3rd Platoon.¶
Commissars were assigned to Platoons, within each platoon was 10 squads of
20. In each platoon there was 1 Head Commissar, for us it was Raskov. And 4
Deputy Commissars, they were Mournes, Du Hoc, Seabold and Straken.

Du Hoc spoke into my headset, I couldn¶t hear the conversation, he just

said µDu Hoc... Yes, thanks Boyde... I know, I¶ll keep him away from the
radios...¶ Then he leaned over at me and gave me a harsh gaze and smirked
µAnd disciplinary action of course, he¶ll scrub my fucking quarters with a
tooth brush.¶ He continued saying yes for a few moments, and concluded µI¶ll
see you there Boyde.¶ As he got off the line he looked at me and said µYou¶re
lucky the Lt and I like you or I¶d seriously fuck you up Smart.¶ He laughed
through his teeth and told Cyclops to switch to Raskov¶s headset. µRaskov,
Boyde from the hospital says she sent us the armoured cars and Armadillos
with resupply. We are to hold our ground all night. Expect more attacks.¶ I
could hear his response µWe¶ll hold the bastards!¶

Raskov was in the courtyard and didn¶t get to fight yet, they took
forward positions outside by sandbags that the enemy had not yet reached to
join with Bug and his guns. I was ordered by Du Hoc to get down to the 1 st
story to the sandbag to replace him; he said he¶d be nearby to encourage the
troops. Zombie took over for me with Cyclops as his spotter. I made my way
down and saw that the area was peppered with bullets but the only injuries
were minor. One man had been hit in the leg with a lucky shot. I reach the
sandbags and look at the guys... There are 4 men there, Lefty, Sgt. Necta, Pvt.
Leeds and Pvt. Brisco. Leeds and Brisco were from the 63 rd as riflemen and
Necta had a viscerator, Lefty gave me his weapon and took out a stockpile of
grenades, a full plastic bag. He and Torque requisitioned them from the
motor pool when no one was looking, though it didn¶t matter, I doubt
anybody would¶ve care, they were all eager to leave.

Lefty fumbled with the radio by the sandbags, we had a nice position
overlooking the area. Each of us had a window to fire out of. From my
window I could see 60th squad and 64 th lined up behind 5 different sandbag
walls with Raskov and Mournes standing between the squads, Mournes had a
larger version of the viscerator. Necta said to Lefty µIf you drop even ONE of
those grenades I swear...¶ and Lefty replied before he could continue µYES
SIR¶. Necta just gave up and said µHand me one of those rocks, would -ja?¶
And Lefty slammed one into his open palm and told him µCount to 3 and
don¶t get shot.¶

The radio broadcasts Du Hoc¶s voice and he says the enemy are close, I
can already feel them in my gut. I aim the Viscerator down the range, a maze
of death. And I can hear my own heart beating, the lightning strikes and I see
a reflection, I aim at it. As the lightning strikes again I see a row of reflections.
As this happens I hear the horn blow and the wall of reflections open up on us
as we do the same on them. This time the first projectile has a fiery trail, a
missile. The missile flies forward, screaming. It hits the wall below us and the
explosion rocks the building. With that the horde begins to chant and scream
as the run at us. This time they set up HMGs on bipods and begin firing at us.
Men fall all over, on both sides people are hit and immediately replaced and
it¶s just a contest as to who can replace the most people.
 I see one coming up with a launcher to the right, he gets put down hard.
Then one coming down the middle, he is down. I turn the gun around and see
to my left, a group of missile launchers. Before I even react, the missiles
awaken and fly towards us. This time the missiles strike the face of the
building. Men are knocked down but some managed to get up. I see that they
are getting very close. The enemy are only a few dozen yards from us. It is too
dark to make eye contact but you see their weapons. The flares help, as they
trip the final flare, the men by the sandbag retreat, they drag their wounded
and Raskov waits until everybody is inside until he himself retreats to the
courtyard. Just as this happens Necta orders me to follow him alongside Leeds
while Lefty and Brisco lob grenades at the horde as if they are involved in a
futile attempt to feed the horde so as to make them leaves us alone.

I rush down to the courtyard where our last stand is to take place and
Mournes says µNecta, cover us from the right side.¶ Necta drags me to the
right, we wait in a barricaded hallway on the right side of the door. Waiting to
catch the Malicers on the side. We¶re with 2 other men, both Corporals. The
one with the grenade is waiting and staring at the door, he is grasping the pin,
ready to pull it and count to 3 while his friend, who looks wounded supports
his arm on the sandbags, it is holding a Kestrel handgun. He has a bandage
over his head and over his right eye. A few cuts mar his face. He is aiming
down the sight, he may get only a few shots but he intends to make them
count. We wait until the sound of footsteps reaches the door. They stop and it
feels like an eternity.

Then the doors fly open and the horde comes in bellowing. The man
with the pistol fires, Necta fires, we all fire. Every last gun in the area is
trained on the horde. Soon they run into the line of men in the courtyard and
then they run to us. I pick up a bayonet and jab at the crowd, hitting anybody
who gets close. They came to me in their black armour, most of them had thin
black cloth over their faces which was held in place by metal helmets and
masks. They had such pale skin and lunged at us. Trying to d o so much as
touch us. I lashed out at them with the bayonet. They were everywhere. Necta
pulled the back of my shirt and said we had to fall back to Lefty and the
others. He fired his weapon and the horde fell, we began to push them back.
And we took off to the stairs. As I ran to Necta he turned and unleashed the
rest of his ammo drum. We both sprinted to Lefty¶s position. He saw us, and
Necta shouted µLefty, grenades!¶ Lefty threw a bag of grenades to Necta. He
grabbed them and went down stairs with Lefty following us.
 He was grabbed by a group of the Malcs as they pushed through our
lines again, he raised his hand and showed a grenade... I knew he was stupid,
but not like this. His right hand seemed to take an age to grab the pin of his
grenade and then he looked at me, no longer angry. He pulled the pin and
tapped the grenade off of his helmet. I got down as the explosion was muffled
by the bodies of Malcs that attacked him. These Malcs are fucking crazy is all
I could think as the explosion knocked me over.

I was dazed and sitting on the ground, Necta grabbed my arm and
hoisted me up shouting µFall back to the motor pool!¶ All the survivors were
running in, they covered me and Necta until we were there, Malcs falling
nearby. As Necta let go of me I stumbled past the open reinforced door. Crash
closed door and began pushing it as it closed slowly. We¶d have enough time
to get out if they didn¶t break out the demo charges. My squad were
preparing the vehicles when the Malcs broke through. Only Lefty had been
killed, Broga asked µLefty?¶ and I just nodded. Broga looked mad, he turned
around and pressed his fist against one of the lockers, he moved his hand
away and it flew forward into the locker, leaving a bulge in it. The locker was
pushed in.

I looked around and saw the whole squad, the 3 Commissars, what was
left of 65th and 64th and the man with the pistol I was with not long ago, his
friend with the grenade wasn¶t there. Apparently amidst the chaos 60 th
escaped through the motor pool to clear the route to the hospital. The 63 rd
were wiped out, no firing could be heard from inside Zulu. The rest of the
men came to life, preparing the vehicles and loading on the men that couldn¶t
walk. Zombie caught up with me and we stood in silence, until the intercom
turned on, they accessed it from the radio on the roof. The voice was chilling
and low. µGreetings 3 Platoon.¶ Some of the men stopped and others cursed at
the voice. µWe are waiting for you, the choice is yours... Surrender and you
will survive, fight and you will be destroyed, and if you run... We will someday
find you.¶ Raskov grabbed a hold of Cyclops¶ headset and just said µNuts¶.

The voice laughed and the horde outside began chanting and cheering.
And screaming threats, we loaded up as they screamed at us and yelled. I
couldn¶t wait to leave. Convoy Rouge¶s men arrived within a few seconds of
the vile hordes speech. The voice began to speak again µYou will die by our
hands and if not ours then our brothers. I am Plague and you will knowV
V
I shuddered and Raskov grabbed Cyclops again. He began to speak. µPlague,
we will 

V surrender, you think us cowards? Well we will show you
Venture steel.¶ Most of the soldiers cheered and the horde jeered us. Then
silence, the horde stopped. Soon there was a loud ÷
VAnd a smell of
burning, soon sparks appeared on the door, they began to move clockwise in a
circle.

Crash yelled µThey¶re breaking through!¶ Raskov jumped into the

Armadillo belonging to the 65 th. And our squad loaded the last stretchers into
the vehicles. I was ordered by Mournes µBarron get in the car¶ I jumped in to
the Armoured Fast Attack Carrier. The A-F.A.C was the name given to the
vehicle make, but this one had µRabbit¶ written on the bonnet. It was a
smaller vehicle than the Armadillo but much faster. We were to clear the path
for the Armadillos. I jumped in through the boot of the A-Fac and took the
Viscerator Mournes handed me. He went around and sat in the passenger¶s
seat next to Necta. Dennely was lying down beside me unconscious, he was
knocked out by the blast from a missile. He moaned occasionally and spoke in
his daze. The first words aside from yes and no he said all day.

The first vehicles that went were the 65th Armadillo and 2 A-Facs called
µBoxcar¶ and µBlack Flag¶. Then Rabbit jerked forward and sped off leading
the last A-Fac named µAnimal Mother¶ and the 66 th Armadillo. Mournes held
a small SMG known as a Razor. It had a suppressor that made a ÷
Vnoise
each time it was fired. He had it in his left hand, propping it on the window
while he talked into a radio. µHospital base, we are inbound, hold fire.¶ The
hospital¶s commander Lt. Boyde responded µJust follow the road out of Zulu
and watch for civilians.¶ Mournes placed the radio handset on its hook and
muttered µYeah, yeah, fucking civies only get in the way.¶

Soon silhouettes appeared on the roves of the crumbling building, the

sky was pitch black and illuminated by tracers and flares. The silhouettes
were lit up by gunfire, exposing their bodies to the flashing lights. The roof
gunner of our A-Fac returned the fire. Dim was on the HMG of our A-Fac.
The first A-Fac, Boxcar missed a turn and ran through the wall of a ruined
house. I could see Malcs jump from the rubble as muffles gunfire sounded off.
Mournes checked the radio µBoxcar?¶ there was no response and he just
cursed his luck. The Armadillos were the focus of enemy fire; the vehicles
absorbed the feeble bullets and rolled on.

Animal Mother was at the head of the pack, their roof gunner was
spoiled for choice when it came to the targets on the roves and they were
everywhere. He fired all over the place and each time one was hit, I saw
another take their fallen buddy¶s place, firing down on us. I could hear the
harsh R
RVand the threatening RRVI looked back at Dim, he suddenly
turned the gun to the right and I looked outside the right window. A Malc in
light armour, only protecting his chest and head and wearing sack cloth p ants,
jump from the rubble and fire one of the enigmatic weapons. I felt Dim¶s legs
twitch and jolt and then he went limp and fell through the hole in the roof. He
landed on my legs and I looked at him. His eyes were frozen in fury as he took
in his final breath of air. He had a hole in his neck, near the jugular. Mournes
looked back and looked forward again, then he doubled back realizing
something was wrong.

µGoddamn Malcs... Barron how is he?¶ I waved my hand in front of

Dim¶s face and he blinked and finally closed his eyes. µHe¶s dead! He¶s fucked
up sir!¶ Mournes just said µGet on up their Barron, don¶t let it be in vain. We
need to get to the hospital in one piece!¶ I lowered Dim onto the floor, the cold
metal floor which was flooded with bullets and blood from Dim and the
wounded men that Convoy Rouge had already evacuated. I reached for the
gun and stood steady. Each time I saw a shadow, it got lead sprayed at it,
some of them dropped but it wasn¶t enough. My mind was absorbed with the
task, outside sounds didn¶t reach me. I felt like my mind just pressed the mute
button. The gun and my breathing was all that could be heard.

Eventually we reached a long stretch of road, the convoy slowed down

and I snapped out of it. I woke up, I could see that only a hundred yards
away, there was a large building filled with lights, actual lights, not the fires
that guided us and kept us from the shadows. It was as if we were at the pearl
gates, as if we had gone through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. The evil
had taken a full A-Fac and Dim. We were safe, almost. I could hear Du Hoc
on the radio of the A-Fac. µBoyde this is Commissar Du Hoc, we are making
our approach, fingers off of those triggers now.¶ With that, our vehicles rolled
timidly into the street flooded with lights. There was a plethora of lights and
blood. The A-Facs glided by with the Armadillos rumbling behind. Soon they
reached the hospital. The white building was in ruins but at least it had a roof
over it.

We reached the motor pool where soldiers, medics and engineers fixed
up the vehicles and carried away the dead and dying. Boyde was waiting for
us. Wearing the officer¶s beret and sunglasses, she was dressed not like a
medic, but a regular soldier. A medic usually wore the same gear as a soldier
but they had satchels with a red cross enclosed in a white circle, almost like a
bulls-eye. Along with the bag was the helmet, a lightweight and well fit helmet
which only protected the ears, back of the head and forehead unlike the
regular helmets, as well as that some of them had the goddamn red cross on
their helmets, as if declaring their importance to snipers. Of course some
copped on to the idea, the others were subject to the cruelty of Nature.

Boyde stood unmoved as wounded and dead were brought through the
motor pool on stretchers, some were talking, some were delirious and others
were dead quiet. Du Hoc walked over and shook Boyde¶s hand. They
exchanged brief words on their situation and Boyde said something about a
meeting in the main hall. Du Hoc nodded and walked off. He looked exhausted
like most of us; his dark red Commissar¶s coat was torn and stained exposing
his standard olive drab shirt button shirt underneath. His Commissar¶s cap
dangled from his belt alongside his pistol. He was directly responsible for the
moral and behaviour of 66th and 67 th squad. His job as a Commissar was
tough and often despised by troops. As far as I¶ve heard, he¶s never needed to
shoot a soldier for cowardice or anything of that nature. From where we
stand, that¶s the sign of a good Commissar. Since the Malcs attacked, the
military has begun a recruitment drive, they draft criminals and push their
propaganda. I got caught with an illegal quantity of alcohol.

The law in Venture is tough, the current government have limited the
amount of alcohol on the streets and this only helps the crime families. I was
caught and drafted into service as a result. The military are not prepared for
the Malcs, this fuckhole is a testament to the underestimated Malcs¶ ferocity.
We underestimated them, sent only a few Battlegroups in, and without allies
willing to help, we are now being slaughtered. I look around me and see that
all of the people here know that as well. Sled has fallen and we haven¶t even
been beaten yet.

Mournes walks up to me and says in his low and dark voice µBarron, go
with Boyde and Crash. They need your skills.¶ As I walk past he grabs my
shoulder and says µYou did good for a clo wn, Barron.¶ He laughs to himself
and pats my shoulder, I walk away saying µThank you Commissar.¶ I walked
through the hospital where actual surgeons and doctors zipped past me. I
looked at the ground because each time I looked into the lights, it stung a
little. Then on my way to the main hall, I saw into a room. The door was
slightly open but I could spot Cyclops and Shrike through the gap. I walked in
and saw two other people. Two soldiers from a completely different company,
the first one, a woman with µGannon¶ written across the helmet she wore, a
proper soldiers helmet asked me µWhat unit you with buddy?¶ I just pointed
at Shrike and Zombie and said µI serve with the little scouts there.¶ She
laughed and looked at Shrike, he still wore his non -regulation vest and teeth.

The scouts looked at me and I could feel that they had missed me
alright. The other person, a short man with a medic¶s helmet, except with the
red cross blacked out, looked me up and down and said µDoc Nellis, Pvt
Gannon and I are with the 62nd. I heard about Zulu, shit.¶ That¶s all he had to
say... Shit. It spoke volumes about how the war has been going. Gannon
looked at me and said µPrivate Gannon, call me Siera.¶ She shook my aching
hand and then I realized I had injured my left hand. She saw it hurt and said
µNo big deal, Doc, look here.¶ He looked at my hand and just said µYou¶ll be
fine. Nothing major, probably from the recoil of a weapon.¶ I just took my left
hand in my right and said µYeah, damn Coyotes.¶ That was the name of the
MG I used on the A-Fac, a Coyote was the nickname given, apparently its use
for fast attack, ambushes and nimble nature gave it the name of an old
creature. It kicked terribly but it was a sacrifice for its punch.

Siera looked over at Shrike and said µSo neighbour, care to tell me how
many Malcs you bagged.¶ He nodded and said µI didn¶t BAG any, I ended 23.¶
Shrike looked at me and explained µThis little maggot lived in the same area
as me.¶ She agreed µYeah, we were next-door neighbours, only 2 miles apart.¶
Verans were tough but she just didn¶t look Veran, a average sized woman
with short red hair just isn¶t as intimidating as the quick giant that Shrike
appeared to be. She said µDon¶t worry past my harsh and mean exterior is a
kind old soul.¶ She laughed and said µWanna see something?¶ She nodded at
Nellis and he yanked a sheet off of a stretcher which was being supported by a
few bricks. We gathered around the stretcher. Zombie just muttered µHoly...¶
Laid out on the stretcher was a giant man. He was similar to the tall man.

I looked at his helmet and felt some weird form of relief when I saw it
wasn¶t him. His mask was different. His armour covered most of his body,
only the lower half of his face was exposed. I could see red stains around his
mouth. He was at about 6 feet and had black armour, damaged and faded
looking. His helmet was odd, it was shaped like a creature the Doc said
resembles an µogre¶ some mythical beast, a hateful, vile, cruel and monstrous
humanoid. He said the word came from the Human language French, the
legend of ogres came from Earth, mainly they were depicted in fairy tales. He
told me about how Du Hoc, before travelling to Point Zulu, told him that
µOgres represent in a metaphorical sense, people who brutalize, destroy and
victimize.¶

The helmet had protruding ears with silver rings piercing them; the
ears were ornamental and made of black metal. The head was bald and the
part of the helmet that covered his eyes and the bridge of his nose was a solid
black visor. Shrike reached under the Malc¶s chin and fiddled with a strap.
The strap came loose and Doc slid his helmet off, underneath it was even more
terrifying. He looked perfectly human. He was a y oung handsome looking
person. He had brown hair, grey eyes and even a few faded freckles. He
appeared to be smirking at us, knowing we were scared. His armour looked
alien and wrong on him. His armour had a series of designs running up and
down its surface. On the chest-plate there was writing. The writing was only a
few words long and the letters were very odd looking.

å
  
   

V It looked disturbingly like a human language according to Du Hoc. Doc

told me more about his conversation with Du Hoc. He said µDu Hoc seems to
understand something about the Malicers we don¶t know. He looked at the
writing and made an excuse to leave ahead of schedule. I immediately waited
until Doc and Siera had left alongside Shrike. Then I asked Zombie to hand
me a notepad. He threw it to me and I took down the writing. µI¶ll keep it with
me, these Malicers...¶ I looked at the body again. I told Zombie to take the
helmet with him. I left for the main hall and entered as Raskov began to talk ,
he stood on a balcony overlooking the hall.

µI know you all, since the day ye joined my Platoon, I know we¶ve lost
heavily, but it cannot get in our way. We need to defend this damn planet, not
for the locals, not for ourselves, but for Venture... The reason we fight and die,
is so that these raiders do not get the chance to touch Venture, so that they do
not march through its streets. We¶ve always had to fight for our survival and
we¶ve always had to hold our ground, this is no different. The retreat ends
here. This is where the buck stops. The Malicers will know what it means to
be an enemy of the Venture Orbital Drop Marines!¶ The soldiers yelled and
cheered their approval. Du Hoc stood forward and Raskov nodded, he turned
and left the balcony.

Du Hoc began µWe are going to hold the line until reinforcements
arrive, I have already briefed the squad leaders, all of the able bodied will
man their posts and will not retreat. It is now 0800 hours, the attack may
come at any moment. As we speak, support from the ai r is at the ready. Prove
to the Malicers that they just got lucky.¶ The crowd cheered again and Du Hoc
walked away. The squads assembled by their leaders. Crash was sitting down
as we all stood around him. Short tried to shove his way past and eventually
squeezed to the front. He began to talk µWe are going to be protecting the East
Wing. Necta, you take Short and Buck to the 1 st floor where that launcher can
stop any vehicles coming down the East road. Cyclops, stick with Broga and
Knox, you¶ll be on the 1 st floor where you¶ll call in support and keep in
contact. I¶ll take the rest to the doors of the East wing and make sure the
bastards don¶t get inside. Oh, and Barron, you take Zombie, Edgy and Sev.
All right, move out and hold your ground, keep in contac t with us now.¶ The
squad moved out.

I ordered Sev, Zombie and Edgy to first find out where the hell the East
wing is and where the nearest stairs are. Edgy went off to find a guard and
Zombie looked at a nearby, hand-written map. Boyde walked past and said
µHey Jester, still alive I see.¶ I answered µIt¶ll take more than a horde of brutal
murderers to take me down, ma¶am.¶ She nodded and laughed a little. µLose
the ma¶am...¶ I said µYes LT¶ She said back µThat¶s better. Now, where are
you going Jester?¶ I shrugged and said µWell, LT... I don¶t really know, the
East wing, somewhere upstairs that might be a good sniping area.¶ She
thought and said µI know a place, follow me.¶ As she walked off I waved Edgy
over. He was a bit nervous, he disliked being in crowds.

We followed her; I noticed a pistol on her belt, now she was wearing a
heavily customized button shirt, the olive drab. As we walked up one of the
stairs, Commissar Du Hoc met us at the top. He had a flak jacket on under his
coat and slung over his shoulder was a belt of ammo. He joined up with us. He
spoke briefly with Boyde, just minor details to do with patients and available
doctors. Eventually we reached the room. It had a good view, it was an empty
room where supplies were once held and they were all used up. I positioned
the Farsight against a window sill. The room had a smaller room in it,
opposite the door was a small room with a radio. In the main room, there was
just a mattress and a tattered armchair. I said µWe¶ll flip a coin and see w ho
gets first watch.¶ Buck flipped the coin for me and Zombie, I won and Zombie
had to watch. But soon afterwards, a man from 61 st squad, a well rested
looking soldier with a clean uniform appeared. He asked Boyde µLieutenant,
you wished to see me?¶ Boyde said µYes, you will stay here with Jester and
Zombie, you will watch over the East road until I or Commissar Du Hoc send
for you.¶ The soldier obeyed and walked over to the window and watched,
using his own sniper rifle. A lighter, Mosquito Sniper Rifle.

I settled down in the armchair and slowly drifted off to sleep. My mind
was occupied not by me or the usual dreams, this was too subtle to be a
nightmare but not nice enough to be a dream either. All I saw was the tall
man and the Ogre looking at me, just standing there. I could see the shy
silhouettes and the skinny and lightly armoured Malicers that ran at us. I
went over what the tall man looked like, his thick ornamental mask. It was
shaped like a face with a long beard and hair. The face was not as rep ulsive as
the Ogre¶s but it looked like a calm and passive face, on the body of a 7 foot
tall giant. His armour covered his forearms and the bottom half of his body.
The beard and hair extended down to his chest. I still remembered as clear as
possible how a cold barrel shot, a killer shot, just knocked him down. How he
could see me. I thought of him and how he blew up my den, but I didn¶t hate
him.

I woke up soon enough, fully rested and checked my watch; it was the
rd
3 day since the Malicers began their brutal assault. One of Boyde¶s snipers, a
different one to the young man was calling me. I looked around; it was now
hour 9 of the 13 hour day. I remember how when things happened a third
time, it tends to get worse. µThe third time¶s the charm¶ Firebase Turkey,
Point Zulu and now the Hospital. I was not going to die, I knew it. But I got up
anyway. The soldier watching the road now was a rifleman from the 61 st
called Jonas, Cpl Jonas AKA Sweaty Joe, though he preferred Joe. He took to
calling himself that. He called me µLance Corporal git on up!¶ His odd
sounding accent, he was a country boy from Venture, enjoyed hunting,
thought he¶d do good hunting aliens. But animals don¶t shoot back. They¶ll
try stealing supplies to starve your force, smart bastards, but they never think
of setting mined bodies or trip-wire grenades.

That¶s what made the Malicers fatally different to the regular E.T you
were sent to mess up; they were a culture, not just a crew of pirates. They
knew how we work, how we react. I went to the window, over to Joe. He was
using a dismounted sniper scope, peering over the window ledge. µBarron I
sees somethin¶!¶ I hope it isn¶t a silhouette. I take the scope from him and he
says µThe buildin¶ down there!¶ I looked over and see a small gro up of people
in black armour, they have binoculars and radios like us, just of different
shapes. As if parodying us, I look at the spotted as Joe aims the Mosquito at
them, I put my right hand on the barrel and force him to lower it. µDon¶t
shoot them, they haven¶t shot us yet!¶ Joe sniggers µThis is war bud, I ain¶t
lettin¶ a single one o¶ those... Things in.¶ I look at him I can feel anger in me,
like a laser beam, burning into him, he stops and lowers his gun and I return
to observing like a nervous bird watcher.

In Vera there is a saying µDon¶t fight with the birds, they fight back.¶ It
came from a certain type of µbird¶ called a Guwok (Pronounced Gwo -k), it
remembers the shape and look of people. If you try and hunt the bastards,
don¶t let them get away, they have gone as far as to drop objects on the
hunters. Even out of nowhere, they have killed hunters who left witnesses. The
Malicers appear like that, they fight back. Like the giant reptilian bird, they
will track you down, and kill you. I watch through the scope, they have similar
armour patterns, not Ogres though. They are light armoured, very light. In
fact the leader figure is wearing tattered clothes and only wearing bracers on
his forearms and armour around his thighs and shins.

He isn¶t wearing a helmet, exposing his odd hair, it is blonde and all
combed back. He is decorated by blue patterns and watching the ground level
troops. His spotter, a person without any black armour, just three quarter
length khakis and a soldier¶s combat jacket, was using binoculars. He scanned
the ground floor and then my floor. His gaze met mine. Neither of us reacted
immediately, both taken unaware by curiosity. The spotter had spiked hair,
vertically spiked all over his head. His hair was red, he looked like any
random street punk in Venture but he looked like a fighter. He looked at each
other for a while until the lead turned away from the radio and punched his
shoulder lightly; he snapped out of it, his curiosity was replaced by urgency.
The rest of his group left quickly, climbing up walls and through broken
windows.

µWhy didn¶t they attack?¶ Joe asked and I thought for a moment and
said µBecause they don¶t kill the weak... They¶re waiting for us to evacuate the
wounded and civilians. Think about it, they haven¶t killed civilians have they?
They don¶t shoot the wounded either.¶ Joe just looked at me µYou¶re crazy
man.¶ I just nodded µI know.¶

As Joe left, Du Hoc walked into the room quickly and came over to me.
µBarron, there was movement reported to the left, you see anything?¶ Joe was
about to talk and I interrupted µNo Commissar, zero movement.¶ Joe didn¶t
want to get involved and so he left. Commissar Du Hoc sat in the old chair and
lay back, trying to relax after the stressful nature of his work. He closed his
eyes and began to talk µSo I saw you going into the room.¶ I knew what room
he meant but I asked µWhat room?¶ Du Hoc just emphasized the word. µYou
know... THE ROOM. I saw you Barron.¶ I realized I was caught. µYes
Commissar.¶ He smiled µGood I see your memory hasn¶t failed you.¶

He continued µSome interesting things in that room. A Malicer warrior,

in full gear, with an inscription on his chest, interesting isn¶t it. It means µFear
the reckoning of those you have wronged.¶ That¶s why they did this to us, they
think we wronged them. I don¶t know why. And yes they¶re humans. Just a
different culture, they¶re humans. Just like us. Still in the time when we need
to be united, we divide.¶ I answered without looking at him, still staring at the
spot where the Malicers were. µTypical us...¶ He laughed and said µI admire
your faith in humanity.¶ He began playing with his dog tags, jingling them. He
suddenly sat up and said µWell, I¶ll see you soon enough Barron until then put
on a happy face for the reporters. There¶s a camera crew and some smug
reporter prowling around here. Doesn¶t know of the attack I figure.¶ Du Hoc
left the room after that without saying a word.

Soon enough the guys came back, Edgy, Sev and Zombie all filed into
the room. µSee anything Smart Ass?¶ Sev asked as he pressed a button on the
side of his helmet, the solid black visor turned transparent exposing his
scarred face. Sev had those scars from before the military. Of course the
military managed to add a few to his collection but most came from his life in
the Industrial District of Venture. He manufactured illegal weapon mods and
many other illegal goodies. One day according to him, the police, the Zero -
Tolerance type, stormed his shop and µinterrogated¶ him. A tactic they use
involves cutting up the victims face, giving them horizontal cuts across their
cheeks, one under the other until they moved onto the next cheek. The tactic
was called µNotching¶.

µYes. Actually they looked like gutter runners back home.¶ Gutter
Runners were drugged up pickpockets and stab happy assassins. They¶d do
anything for money or supplies. Sev looked surprised µYou saw Malcs and
didn¶t call it in... They¶re spying on us!¶ Sev only seemed to care about killing
and staying alive, I wasn¶t surprised that he¶d be angry. µWhat are you
crazy?¶ I just said µYup, aren¶t we all, just look at poor Zombie?¶ He strode
over to be as I stood by the window and punched me in the face, right in the
side of the head with reinforced gauntlets on. I couldn¶t feel anything. He
grabbed me and began to lift me over the window. He moved closer to my face
so as he looked right into my eyes and said µI didn¶t come all the way here just
to get killed by some idiot, fuck up again and I WILL kill you.¶ As Edgy and
Zombie decided to try stop him he pulled me back and let me go, my legs fell
from underneath me.

Sev opened the door and was met by a man in a dirty loose suit and a
nerdy looking boy with a camera, in denim pants and a plain red t-shirt. The
suit put a microphone in Sev¶s face and asked in an enthusiastic voice µSo
marine, tell us what you think of Sled.¶ Sev looked at him and said µGet that
thing out of my face.¶ He slapped the microphone from the man¶s han d and as
he went to pick it up Sev shoved the cameraman out of his way. He walked
down the stairs in full body armour, each step sounded off with a heavy ÷
.
His dark armour covered his olive drab clothes. He unhooked a grenade
launcher from his back and held it in one hand as he continued to walk. The
cameraman walked into the room and swivelled the camera around as if
clearing the room with a gun. The reporter followed him looking more
disgruntled.

µDare I ask you guys how the war is going?¶ He said and we all
responded almost at the same time µWorld of shit¶ He laughed and offered his
hand µHisham Zorolla, war correspondent.¶ I declined the handshake and
turned to watch the road, he understood I was busy but Edgy shook his hand
and Zombie did the same. Zorolla looked at Edgy through his square glasses.
He straightened up his grey suit and red tie and propped the microphone in
Edgy¶s face. The cameraman said µA-a-a-a-nd, go.¶ Zorolla asked in his
reporter tone. µWell marine, what do you think of this war on Sled¶ Edgy
thought and said µWell, it¶s though but my job is just to run and do what I¶m
told. I don¶t think we belong here but... As long as we are here, we¶re going to
kick some Malc ass.¶ Zorolla said µGood, good. And what do you think of the
locals?¶ Edgy thought again µYou know, I haven¶t seen much of them at all.
They seem to be miles from the fight.¶ Zorolla said µThat¶s a wrap.¶ And the
cameraman lowered his machine.

Zorolla walked over to Zombie and hovered the microphone under his
chin µAnd what do you think of Sled marine?¶ Zombie responded without
missing a beat µIt¶s hot, and sticky.¶ Zorolla said, trying to encourage Zombie
µAnd what about the locals¶ Zombie thought this time and said µThe animals
all look weird and I haven¶t seen much locals. I think the Malcs are the new
locals.¶ He smiled at the camera and gave the thumbs up. Zorolla frowned and
looked at me, he didn¶t bother. He said µThanks guys.¶ and walked off with his
cameraman µCome on Dempsey.¶ He said and waved his hand over his
shoulder. Edgy waved and said meekly µBye.¶

Soon my turn to sleep comes up again and I don¶t take long to drift off,
I was thinking about what Du Hoc said, his voice played over in my head
µFear the reckoning of those you have wronged.¶ How on earth can a killer
shadow think we wronged it? And to think there were more of them. I
remember the silhouettes, the ogre, the tall man and Plague¶s black waves. We
aren¶t winning and I know we won¶t win as long as we play the way we do.
Throwing a full Battlegroup at a besieged planet isn¶t that good an idea when
you don¶t know what it is you¶re facing. I remember stories and war memoirs
about heroic military charges or tough mercenaries being killed off by the
grotesque hordes of aliens. I then remember the greatest of stories, The Fall of
Earth under the Illumini.

I wake up later to the sight of Crash, his moustache is dripping wet

along with his grey blonde hair. He looks like he just washed, we hadn¶t
washed in a week aside from the charming and exposed tubs we had behind
the bunked back at Fire-Base Turkey. He mutters to me µGet up, we have a
captive Barron, Mournes insisted I bring your sorry ass down to the
prisoner.¶ I was surprised. He hands me my flak jacket and a comba t jacket
that was in my bag µYou¶ll look a bit more intimidating to the skinny bastard.¶
I put them on and leave the room as Edgy looks through a dismounted sniper
scope and Zombie cleans the Farsight. As we walk through the maze of people
I realize that there isn¶t as much people around, they are being evacuated.
Mostly wounded soldiers and civilians are gone. The doctors are zipping
around the corridors and the others sleep. I reach the room following Crash;
it is at the end of a hallway guarded by 2 fellow O.D Marines. µCrash, the
visitor is waiting for you inside with Mournes.

I entered the room with Crash who decides to leave as one of the
marines calls him. Mournes is in the room standing straight next to 2 Veran
soldiers, Langreki and Zoom, two of the shadowy characters around the
hospital. They had jet black hair and strong arms adorned with tribal
markings, tattoos and scars. These people were wetwork operatives, assassins
and interrogators, making greater progress in politics than any politician
would. Zoom was a tall man with a shaved head, which like his arms had
tattoos and a scar running across his face, from the right cheek bone, over the
bridge of his nose, and ending at his left cheek bone. He looked at Langreki
another tall Veran, she was not as well known as Zoom, he was a talented
marksman with a monocular mounted on his helmet, hence the name Zoom.
Langreki was an agile close combat fighter, we could have used her at Zulu,
hell we could have used half of the Battlegroup at Zulu.

The 2 Verans look at me; they are wearing full combat armour unlike
the rest of the marines. Zoom fiddles with his monocular and places it down
over his right eye and looks me up and down as Langreki just stares at me.
Mournes turns around and orders them to as he said µWake our guest up.¶
Zoom walks in followed by Langreki, they disappear and reappear in the
room through a two-way mirror. Mournes begins to talk. µSo Barron, the
reason I brought you here is because, number one: I see in your files you
speak French and Russian, we need French I think. And number two: I see
something in you; if you do good I might put you forward for a medal or
something.¶ I stand straight and respond µThank you Commissar¶. He
continues µYou studied psychology back home for a while, a m I correct?¶ I
respond µYes Commissar¶ he nods and I relax my posture.

µLance Corporal, we¶re short on interrogators, head shrinkers and

translators, your job is to play the nice guy and get inside his head. If you do
good, I¶ll recommend you for interrogations.¶ I say µCommissar, thank you
but I¶d rather stay on the frontline.¶ He nods again µI know, as an
interrogator you just talk to prisoners, just some experience. You¶ll remain
with us, I¶ll make sure of that.¶ Before I say anything he says µOnce Zoo m and
Langreki are done you go in and find out what you can. His name, group,
leader, plans and his objective, and also DON¶T LET HIM DIE. Zoom tends
to go too far.¶ I ask µAren¶t you staying here Commissar?¶ He sighs µI must go
with some men back to the Citadel, just for a few days to talk with some Sled
Political aficionados. Goddamn politicians. Get too it Barron, I¶m relying on
you.¶ He was gone within the hour.

I look at the prisoner, in the room. He is seated at a table in a cleared

out quarantine room, he stares at the mirror as the tall Verans circle him.
Soon I walk in and they leave, not before Zoom pushes him off of the chair
onto the ground. The prisoner tries to get up, without the use of his hands
which are tied behind his back. I walk over an d look at him. He is dressed in
ripped up pants and nothing more. I see his armour in the corner of the room;
his helmet is perched upon a crate which appears to contain his armour. I
look to him and he squirms around on his stomach on the ground trying to get
up. I grab him by the rope around his hands and pull him over to the chair
and slowly lower him into the chair.

He looks tired and injured. He is middle aged from what I see. His hair
was like the runners, spiked up and swept back, accompanied by a thin
moustache and a plaited goatee, dangling from his chin, it¶s 3 inches long. He
has grey eyes and his eye sockets are red. He is skinny and scarred, as well as
bruised from the brutish Verans. He was panting but trying no too, visibly
tired and thirsty. I poke around in my bag and got out some bottled water. I
untied him and he rubbed his bruised wrists. He took the water soon after
looking it up and down. He took a few sips and then followed up with full
gulps until the bottle was empty. He looked less tired and somewhat confused;
I started talking to him in French. µSorry about those two.¶ He threw his eyes
up at the sound of them. And I continued µThe only reason you are here is
because we need to know things that you know.¶ He nodded and I said µI¶m
going to ask you some questions, now either you can talk to me or you can be
convinced to talk by them.¶ He responded in French as well µYou or those
animals.¶

He had a low and rough voice like Mournes had. I said µSo, what is your
name?¶ He replied µEnzo le Coureur¶ Enzo the Runner in English. He
continued µI am a runner, mainly taking messages through battlefields.¶ I said
µAnd who is your commander?¶ He answers reluctantly µPlague.¶ I ask him
µWhat was your mission before you were captured?¶ He continued µTo take a
message to my allies, another group.¶ I pressed him on the subject µWho?¶ He
answered µI cannot tell.¶ Not that he won¶t tell, just that he can¶t. µWhy can¶t
you?¶ I asked he responded µI am no traitor.¶ I say µRemember Enzo, I came
in here to get answers. If you can¶t tell me what I need to know then the others
are going to try again.¶ He sat up and said µLet them, but I am no traitor.¶ I
gave up and left the room, soon I wrote all the information I could but I didn¶t
get much out of him. The Verans were ordered out to guard the hospital
leaving him to be brought back to headquarters.

Later Mournes talked to me µBarron, you did well. I know his type,
these Mauls are hard to break but maybe at HQ they¶ll break him. We don¶t
know much except for the basics. Anyway, O¶Malley wants you to join up
with him in 5, there is a patrol going out. Good work.¶ I left to join up with
Crash. Soon it was midday and the sun was high in the sky. I joined up with
Crash and the recon squad in the motor pool which was now clean, free of
blood and wounded marines. Crash ordered the group to fall in. Necta, Short,
Doc Nellis, Val, Knox and myself went over to him, he sat at an ammo crate
cleaning his PAR.

He began to snap his weapon back together, he kissed each part before
putting it in its place and each part fit in and stayed as if it had found its
home. He told us time and time again that µA gunshot is a controlled
explosion, not some magical force that catapults screaming metal through the
air.¶ He began to talk as he put on the finishing touches; his gun maintenance
skills were amazing. He was talented.

µLock and load squad. The plan is: we¶re going to stick our heads outside for
a while to show the natives that we ain¶t dead just yet. In about an hour¶s time
we¶ll join up with Commissar Seabold at some fancy ass library that was
borrowed from the locals. Reports say that there are a few Malc snipers out
there, shooting at anything that stumbles into their sights, ranging from
marines to civies, hell, even fucking pets.¶ Necta begins checking his weapon,
he has a Razor with the stock removed. Knox fumbles with his Viscerator and
cocks it, Short only has a pistol, a modified Kestrel with a magazine the c urves
up to the pistols flashlight. Val is holding a Caesar and Doc Nellis is unarmed.
I brought my Pilgrim with me. Crash hands me a radio kit and says µThey
borrowed Cyclops a couple hours ago so you use this.¶ I put it on my back and
ask µThis won¶t catch fire if it¶s hit, right?¶ And he just looks away.

A half-hour later we¶re haunting the city streets, slowly walking by foot
after foot. The Malicers are in the city, we know this, but finding them is still
hard. We stalk our way to a 3-way intersection and Crash raises his fist, we all
stop. He crouches and duck walks his way to the street corner, by a burnt out
store. I say to Val µMan, this place is FUCKED UP.¶ He cocks his shotgun and
says µIndustrial was worse.¶ I mutter µDamn rich kid.¶ He sniggers under his
breath. Crash peeks around the corner slowly. He peers out for a few seconds
and turns to us, with his back to the wall. µListen up marines. This is how it
is... One of us goes first, I nominate Short.¶ Short is watching the rear of the
road, aiming his weapon downrange where we just came from. He hears
Crash and quickly turns around µFuck no!¶ Crash looks at him sternly µWell,
who would you recommend?¶ Short stutters and Crash asks the squad µLet¶s
call a vote!¶ We all look at him and he asks µAll for Short¶ we all raise our
hands except Short. He groans, Crash smiles and says µGet on up there
Short!¶ Short moves out and says µKnew I should have been a pilot.¶
 Crash moves back so Crash can peek out of the corner. Short takes in a
gulp of air and turns the corner. He breaks away from the wall and runs
across the street diagonally. He reaches the corner at the end of the street on
the opposite side. He waves at us and the rest slowly move up. We stack at the
corner with Short peering out. Crash thinks for a moment and says µLibrary
is past the square and over the speed way... Short take point, move on up.¶
Short mutters again and repeats the process as earlier, making his way to the
opposite corner and waving to us. He looks out onto the square. Crash stacks
up behind him followed by me, Necta, Knox, Val and then Nellis at the end.
Crash peers out by Short¶s legs.

To our left is the square, the ground is covered in rubble and most of
the buildings have been obliterated. All but the school, the highest building
there and standing at 3 floors tall. Crash says µWe¶re going through it. Short,
when you¶re ready, sweetheart.¶ Short double taps, visibly nervous, it takes a
light shove from Crash to get him moving. He jogs with his gear through the
square, heading for a door on the left side of the school. It feels like forever
and then there is a loud RR, Short drops on his left side. Crash begins firing
at the school. He stops as another shot hits the wall next to him. He hugs the
wall and looks at Short. He is within ear shot and shouts at Short. Short turns
on his stomach and begins to pick himself up, Crash yells µShort, don¶t move!¶
then another crack and his right arm falls from under him. He begins yelling.
Crash yells µShort, shut up!¶ He rolls on his back and clutches his arm at the
joint. He begins rolling side to side. Another merciless crack goes through his
left foot.

Knox passes out Crash and peeks around the wall with his Viscerator,
he carries a belt of rounds around his neck and unleashes a torrent of angry
hornets on the school. Between bursts he yells at the school, and at the
merciless ghost inside. Nellis asks µSarge, what do we do!¶ Necta cuts in as
Nellis stands up, he says µI¶ve seen this before, the bastard is baiting us.¶ Knox
hugs the wall as a sniper round hits the corner. He curses to himself. Crash
digs around in his bag and produces a cylindrical grenade. He pulls the pin
and waits until the stream of feeble smoke detonates and soon grey smoke
gushes from the grenade. He tosses it underarm, about 3 metres and waits
until the smoke begins to fill our area. He then says µFollow me.¶ He runs to
the building opposite the school. The sniper probably doesn¶t know where we
are. We are further away from Short but we can see into the school windows.
There are at least a dozen on each floor.
 Crash stops at a section of wall with a large hole in it. Doc Nellis stands
up and hugs the right side of the wall, he peers out of the hole. Necta takes
cover opposite Nellis followed by me. Knox i s at a window behind me and Val
watches the hallway with his shotgun. Crash stacks up behind Nellis. Nellis
asks again µSarge, what do we do?¶ Crash thinks and says µWe wait for that
sniper to make their move. I don¶t think they saw us.¶ Short begins crying out
our individual names µMedic! Please damn it.¶ Nellis¶ face turns red with rage.
Crash grabs the back of his collar µDon¶t you think about it.¶ Then he bellows
µShort, shut the fuck up, we¶re getting you out of there! ¶ Short shouts µFuck
you Crash. Necta! Brother, help me!¶ The ghost gets tired of the conversation
and hits Short in the left hand, he yells and tries to use his left arm and use it
to drag himself back. Nellis yells µFuck this! I¶m going.¶ He shakes off Crash¶s
hand and vaults over the hole in the wall.

He sprints towards Short, he makes it most of the way and I look out
just as another crack blows a hole in his left knee. He falls and doesn¶t stop, he
drags himself over to Short and reaches into his bag as the whole squad starts
shooting. Knox bombards the entire building, Val curses his luck and stays
where he is. Crash peers out slightly to watch for a flash. Necta opens up with
a quick series of ÷
. I aim at individual windows and fire a shot, starting
from the top left window. By the time I make it halfway across the second
storey Crash orders us to stop, Knox stops to change belts and hugs the wall.
Nellis is trying to drag Short back to the street corner. The sniper fires again
and hits Nellis in the right hand, the round passes through his hand and
through Short¶s right should. Nellis lies back and sits up to grab his bag. The
sniper doesn¶t react.

Crash yells out orders µKnox, wait here with Val. Necta, Smart, you¶re
with me.¶ He moves over to the opposite side of the hole and hands his Pilgrim
to Val, he takes the shotgun from him and says µIf you see a shot, shoot in its
direction and move to another window.¶ He waits and says µCovering fire in 3,
2...¶ Knox¶s machinegun completes the countdown and Crash runs down the
hallway, followed by Necta and myself. We turn right and leave the building,
we dart across the narrow alleyway between us and the next building and
keep running. Soon Crash stops and we slow down. I look out at the square
and see the bodies that the rubble had hidden from us, a group of dead
marines, ten men and most still holding their weapons.

I could picture the faces on them, Shrike, Zombie even RAskov could
have been there. I looked over at Short and Nellis. Nellis reached over Short
with his left hand and pried Short¶s pistol out of his right hand. Crash looked
away and as he was about to move on, he looked back quickly. µHe isn¶t!¶ He
looked over at Nellis. Nellis pressed the muzzle to the top of Short¶s helmet
and fired. The shot echoed through the square, somehow it felt louder than
Knox¶s MG. He then presses it to his head, but the sniper saved him by firing
a round into the gun itself. It flew from his hand and he remained sitting
upright. The sniper shot him once more in the right shoulder as if saying µSit
down damn you!¶ Crash looks at me and says µStop him hurting, Barron.¶ I
look at Crash surprised. I have never really seen the people I¶ve shot, only the
missile launcher Malicer, and they dragged him off.

He grabs my shoulder and looks me in the eyes. µMarine, do it. I expect

you to do it for me or anyone else!¶ He lets go and I raise my Pilgrim. I aim
down the scope and place the crosshair on Nellis. Still defiant, he sits up. Just
as I think the sniper is going to fire again I squeeze the trigger and hit Nellis in
the chest, right in the heart. He falls back as the sniper hits him in the left
thigh. The sniper is probably thinking µWhat the fuck?¶ Crash taps me on the
shoulder and we run down the hallway. Soon we end up at the far left corner
of the school by the door, Short¶s original destination. We waited at the door,
Crash counted down µ3, 2...¶ Like Knox¶s machinegun, my foot got impatient
and kicked in the door as Knox himself opened up on the building with his
fourth belt of ammo. He wore two around his torso, another dangled from his
neck and he had another four shoved into his bag. As the angry hornets flew
into the walls of the school we entered the school on the ground floor. Knox
realized this and lifted his MG to fire on the 3rd storey. I went in first followed
by Crash and Necta. We climbed the first set of stairs, ignoring the ground
floor. Crash took the right side of the building and left me with Necta to take
the left side of the building.

Necta hung back and let me take point. We moved door to door, he
watched my back and I entered the rooms. Soon we met up with Crash and
went to the 3rd Storey. Knox held his fire when I talked into the radio µKnock
it off, we¶re near the bastard.¶ When we made it to the top floor Crash and I
swapped weapons, Val¶s shotgun was heavy as hell. Necta kicked the doors in
Crash watched our asses and I stuck my head inside. After clearing 5 rooms, I
could hear somebody muttering what sounded like a prayer or mantra. We
stacked up and Necta took out a breaching charge, a circular shaped charge.
It was a dark black charge; it had a green and red button on it with two black
buttons above them. The charge needed the right code. Then once the code
was entered, you had to press both of the black buttons, also called the
primers. Then in about 3 seconds anybody behind that door is in a world of
shit.

Necta stuck the charge to the door firmly and hugged the wall behind
me. Crash was on the other end and whispered µPut in the damn code,
Smart!¶ I hovered my hand over the buttons and realized I forgot the damn
code. Was it red-green-red or red-green-green? If you get the code wrong,
both you and the enemy on the other side are in a world of shit. Necta arcs his
left arm around me and pressed red-red-green and then the two primer
buttons. I heard a long 



. Then the sound continued getting faster.
Then a final long 



Vthe door explodes inward and I rush in.

At the end of the room, there was a person at the window in the centre
of the wall. They turned around and raised the gun; a dark hood obscured my
view of them. I raised the Caesar and fired, the recoil was titanic. The sniper
was blown back and fell out the window, from the 3 rd storey. Necta rushes in
and looks around confused. µWhere¶s the sniper?¶ I said µDamn, this thing is
powerful.¶ Necta laughed. We left the building and went over to the sniper.
The sight stopped me in my tracks. The mass of rags lay crumpled next to a
rifle, a Mosquito sniper rifle. I turned the corpse over with my foot and the
sniper lay there still breathing. Not a Malicer but a Human, a regular Human.
He was laying there, an elderly man. He had Jotuun features but he was
Human. He had wide open eyes, purple in colour and very strong looking,
long arms and legs covered in muscles.

He looked at me and Necta caught up, he shrugged and asked µWhat

the mother-fuck?¶ Crash walked up and signalled to Knox that it was all
clear. He walked across the rubble strewn square towards us and also looking
at the dead marines. Val examined Short and Doc Nellis, both were dead. I
examined the man while he was trying to move. I opened his overcoat and saw
underneath, a Jotuun Recon uniform. I went through his pockets and bag, he
had dog tags in his bag along with a few spare magazines, a Venture Military
radio and a few picture of him and family members. I showed him the photos
and he said µMurderers¶ and coughed in pain. I asked him µWhat?¶ He stops
spluttering and says µWe¶re tired of...¶ then he groans in pain µ... Venture
murderers.¶ I put the photos on his chest. He continues µNot afraid... To die.¶
He lapsed into fits of coughing and Knox offered a suggestion.

µFuck him, leave him for the dogs.¶ Knox said, Val came up from
behind Knox with Short and Nellis¶ dog-tags held in a clenched fist. He
observed the man and said µHe¶s with Jotuun Recon, they sold us out to the
Malcs.¶ Crash placed his palm in his face, Knox cursed out loud and Necta
walked off to the dead marines. Val asked µSo, what are you going to do?¶

Crash took out his pistol, the revolver and immediately shot the old
man three times. With that sorted out we took his bag and weapon and
radioed for pick-up of 12 friendly bodies and a hostile. The locals sold us out
to the Malicers. Command was enraged and imprisoned all Jotuun officials
within arm¶s reach, some innocent, and some traitors. All were imprisoned
JUST IN CASE. Knox slung the heavy MG around his neck and wrapped his
two arms around the sides, he muttered µHard-fucking-core.¶ Crash said
µWhat a badass.¶ And it was true, that old man was one hard mother, he held
off 7 fully armed marines and managed to hide 10 previous victims. This guy
was old, about 50 or 60, which made me wonder: What the fuck are their kids
like?

Soon after our discussion about whether or not he was a hard mother,
and then on a scale from skinny Jotuun civie to Field Marshall Tingay, how
hard he was. We determined he was as hard a mother as the infamous Black
Rhino Gunnery Sergeant, Gunny Blayshaw. Blayshaw was mad e a hero back
home when the colonization era was drawing to a close and pirates, raiders
and the fear Skalders reared their heads. Blayshaw beat them into oblivion
alongside a small team called The Black Rhinos. Feared and demanding of
every morsel of respect in your guts, the Rhinos operated in almost zero
visibility areas, darkness, fog or even enemy artillery blotting out the sun. Any
time a Rhino was killed, they got back up and grew another heart. What
doesn¶t kill you may make you stronger. This old g uy had no tags on him, so
we assumed he is a renegade.

As if to stop us getting carried away, two flatbed trucks rolled over the
mounds of rubble towards us. They were with us, Jotuun Loyalists. You have
to give it to the E.T bastards; they¶ve got the brains to stick with us and the
balls to fight with us. The flatbeds are covered in metal sheeting acting as
armour, and on top of one truck is a quad cannon, 4 MGs are always better
than one. Knox looks at them enviously. Then the first truck slows to a halt
and a shadow gets out. It walks over to us and the alien features become
clearer as it gets closer.

A Jotuun, the honourable warriors of an ancient, Spartan-like society,

they are shorter than an average human. 5 foot 9 is tall to them, really tall.
The ones on Commissar¶s Reach are small, but they are tough mothers,
surviving shots to the chest without as much as a grunt from them. The
Jotuun gets closer. They are about 5 foot 6 inches tall, wide almost
luminescent eyes. Born ramrod straight, as if standing to attention, their
shoulders back, chest out, they have very dark, almost green skin. This is
where the nick-name µLittle Greens¶ came from. They get closer; I see their
hair, shaved into a Mohawk, black in colour. Just a half a foot high of their
head, they get closer. This one is a highly decorated warrior, the red tattoos on
their arms, in primitive looking, yet artistic designs in bright red. The Jotuun
is wearing a full helmet, with the Mohawk sticking out through the top. The
Jotuun stops in front of me and gives the Jotuun Recon salute, raising a
clenched left fist to his left shoulder, all salutes look similar.

I don¶t want to, but I give the good old Human salute, raising a pointed
right hand to my right temple. The others look in amazement as the Jotuun
tugs the helmet off and exposes their face. A female, though you couldn¶t tell
in the heavy pitch black armour. She has the red tattoos covering her face.
The Mohawk stand in the middle of a full head of hair, reaching to her neck.
She relaxes her posture, and speaks. µMarine, we¶re here for pickup. Where
are the deceased?¶ I point behind me at the line of bodies. Short and Doc
Nellis have joined the ranks of the unfortunate dead, or are they the lucky
ones? The words µOnly the dead have seen the end of war¶ ring through my
skull. The rest of the Jotuuns come out of their beast like trucks, they have
been riding around in those vehicles for a few days straight and are stiff when
they get out unlike the commander.

The Commander looks down at the dead sniper, she remembers him
and I say µOne hard motherfucker.¶ She looks at me and says µYou marines
have no respect for the dead.¶ I retort µWell I have respect for this dead
mother. I feel honoured to have greased him, well played sir.¶ I salute the d ead
man; he has a smile on his face. She says µFine then marine, he¶s a traitor no
matter how you look at him.¶ I ask µA traitor to what?¶

She answers µ2 days ago the Malicer field general, Plague, broadcasted
his ultimatum, those who help the Malicers defeat the oppressive and
tyrannical Venture Military will be allowed to live and will have their service
honoured by his people.¶ I look back at the dead sniper; I think he is alive out
their somewhere, his ghost roaming the wastes, taking pot -shots at full
platoons of marines and Malicers alike. I say µMan, tough break for an old
guy.¶ She looks at him and says µI remember this man, a human but a good
soldier. He injured his knee in a raid and ended up as the base cook. He
preferred the term Chef.¶ I laugh at the thought µA human, but a good
soldier.¶ Then I realize something µWait, a cook!?¶ she nods and I ask µHe¶s
not wearing tags, what¶s his name?¶ She said µI don¶t know, they called him
Sergeant Chef.¶

After we help load up the bodies while Knox µWatches our backs¶
basically catching a breather while we load up on bodies, the trucks begin
rolling. The bodies were in good condition, no insects dared to brave the
snipers sights. The marines were stiff, as any dead marine should be, a marine
is not allowed to die without permission, and if they are, then they better bleed
neat piles of blood. I know now that our enemies are hard, their cooks are
killers. Within the hour we continue the trek to the library, only a couple
hundred metres away from the school. The library is not as badly damaged,
standing tall beside the ruined buildings with its white marble pillars dented
by bullets and explosions. The defenders are expecting us and we go through
without getting shot at. Cyclops is next to Commissar Seabold and the illusive
Jenkins, I never saw him leave Point Zulu with us, he bugged out earlier.

Cyclops is fiddling with a radio that belongs to Seabold. Seabold spots

us and walks over, he embraces Crash and says µGlad to see you¶re alive.¶
Crash rubs the back of his neck and responds µJust about.¶ Seabold laughs
and tells us to follow him up the steps to the library itself. Cyclops spots us but
is too occupied with the radio to care. Seabold walks up the steps in front of us
and looks well rested; his men haven¶t seen much of the Malicers yet. As we
enter the library we see a fort, sandbags and toppled furniture waiting for the
enemy. Seabold greets some of the men with a friendly face. He was known for
being a friendly guy, some might say he wasn¶t doing his jo b, but he did, just
with a friendly face. He was a merciless mother when it came to punishments
but never looked angered by the behaviour of the perpetrators.

Back where we were stationed previously, I was reprimanded for

insubordination and disruption of the peace, he laughed about it with me and
had me clean EVERY single goddamn bathroom in the compound, even a
truck load of toilets that were being shipped out to another compound that
was under construction. They weren¶t even used yet. I never messed around
again, at least while I was within a thousand metres of the man. He grew up
off planet on a military ship. An illegitimate µson of a gun¶, he lived and
trained on the V.M.S Rafterman for 20 years. The Rafterman was a carrier,
on which stationed marines raised families. Other types of ship like Corvettes
and Hellions were for one purpose, military operations.

We strolled through the library looking like ghouls compared to the

other soldiers. Some were dressed in full battle armour, complete with the full
face helmet and solid black visor. And the metal black chest plates that
offered protection from shrapnel, unlike our flak jackets which would stop a
low velocity round. Sled is putting our military to the test, unlike the fancy
E.Ts on Corvus with their high tech computerized armour; we had old and
outdated armour, stuff that hasn¶t seen much change since the fall of Earth.
We have better ordinance but we weren¶t ready for this war. We come here in
olive drab clothing, light helmets and flak jackets t o face up against raiders
from hell.

I sit down by an enthusiastic machine gunner and his machine. He is

aiming it down range at the main door and caressing the trigger, with rounds
loaded. He talks to me µYou see this beast man? Tuned her myself, already
knocked off a couple of Malcs with it, about 10. They hit the ground in
ribbons.¶ I nod and share his enthusiasm for greasing Malicers. I recognize
the man as the wounded guy from the Armadillo, still visibly scarred but
missing the bandages. I ask him µDid you need those high velocity rounds?¶
He looks back in surprise and then realizes µMan, I though you all got
whacked by those skinny bastards!¶ He picks up an ammo box and says
µThanks for the rounds by the way, saved our asses. We lost only a few guys
on the way. What about you?¶ I remember the dead µWell we lost a full squad
and a few others.¶ He responds µRough¶.

The gunner returns to aiming his weapon and Cyclops comes inside. He
sits next to me and asks µSo, I heard ye encountered a sniper.¶ I sigh µYeah, a
Jotuun Recon, a human. He was a cook.¶ Cyclops looks confused and I explain
µApparently he became cook after an injury, he got Doc Nellis from another
squad and Short. Nearly hit Crash.¶ Cyclops laughs µThat sniper must¶ve been
one hard mother to even get a shot off at Crash.¶ I nod. Then Cyclops twitches
µWait, a Jotuun Recon?¶ I sigh again and explain µPlague, remember him?¶
Cyclops nods and I continue µHe sent out a broadcast to the Jotuuns saying
that anybody who takes up arms against us will be spared, whereas those who
help will be annihilated.¶ Cyclops nods and takes in the information, the
gunner turns around suddenly.
 He looks at us and says µGoddamn ETs, traitors. Pa was right about
them Joties.¶ I look at him sternly and say µThose JOTI ES are fine soldiers;
there are still some loyal ones. They may be sly bastards but they are tough,
hard and determined.¶ Then I tell Cyclops µWe also found ten other Marines,
we found out they were from a different platoon.¶ Cyclops turns to his radio
and moans µDamn Malcs, can¶t we just leave?¶ I just say µI don¶t know man.¶
Soon Crash arrives and says µOn your toes Barron, we¶re Oscar mike.¶ I ask
µWhere?¶ And he says µRaskov¶s orders, all the other recon missions returned
with news, a shit load of Mauls. And they aren¶t far from the hospital.¶ I can¶t
get a moments rest.

Crash continues µWe are borrowing an A-Fac.¶ I ask as a joke µYou

okay to drive?¶ He says µAlways.¶ Cyclops comes with us and soon we are
driving out of the area, zipping through the ruined streets that once took
minutes to clear, and now took seconds. I was in the back with Val and Necta
while Knox scans the area with his trusty MG. Cyclops sits in the passenger
seat with the radio in his lap and Crash drives, rather recklessly. We let him
have his fun. The hospital feels distant but we long for its air conditioning and
the familiar faces. We slow down as we pass a flaming husk of a Jotuun
flatbed, not the ones we encountered though; it¶s empty aside from two burnt
bodies.

After only a fraction of the time it took to get there on foot, we arrive in
the hospital motor pool. The motor pool is full of Armadillos, including our
own, and shot up A-Facs. The Jotuuns hit the other remaining strong points
hard. It is like the night before when we left Zulu. Boyde is directing people
around, the remaining staff unloads stretchers and marines reload the
vehicles. Sev is tinkering with the engine of our squad Armadillo; I can see his
feet from underneath the vehicle. He is wearing the olive drab t-shirt and the
heavy combat armour we wear when we drop into the fight on his legs and
feet.

Raskov is talking to Mournes and Du Hoc as Crash arrives, he walks

over to them and joins the discussion. Soon after a few minutes of guessing
what they are talking about Crash returns. He has that urgent looks on his
face µBarron, to your position, Knox, Val and Cyclops, get to yours and Necta,
I need to talk with you.¶ We all move out. I leave the double doors of the
motor pool and see Zombie standing by a wall, h e spots me and waves. I walk
over to him and ask µMiss me?¶ He retorts µRather peaceful actually.¶ We
walk quickly to the room while exchanging a few words µHeard about the
Jotuuns, it sucks¶ Zombie says and I tell him about Short and Nellis. He
answers µI know, Gant told me, she heard from Cyclops.¶ I stayed quiet until I
reached the room. Edgy was watching the area. He waved an idle hand at me
to greet, too absorbed in his work.

By dusk we were awaiting the attack, radio silence, the only thing I
heard was the static of a radio and my own thoughts. Memories of the
Malicers over-running us at Zulu, the wounded being snatched up as their
friends dragged them away. Zombie is using the Mosquito that I souvenired
from the dead sniper. It is a custom rifle, with foreign alien upgrades. The
rounds already loaded were Maw rounds, designed to wound but not to kill,
they were often lethal but not immediately. This was the case with Nellis and
Short; if he had used standard rounds he would¶ve killed them in a single
shot. I take the rifle from Zombie, I feel like giving the Jotuuns a taste of their
own lead. I load up the maw rounds, Zombie gives a surprised look and says
µSick bastard.¶ I laugh.

Raskov¶s voice comes across the intercom as Sev enters the room with
his Caesar shotgun and full armour. Raskov is ordering us to our positions
and then begins with his speech. µMarines, I won¶t sugar-coat this. Most of the
Mauls within this district will be on us within the hour. This will not be like
Zulu, we will hold until morning, until the staff and wounded are gone.
Semper Fi.¶ I hear the voices of many marines yelling µSemper Fi.¶

Some people are singing from what I hear µFrom the Halls of
Montezuma, to the shores of Tripoli.¶ But a modified version, we the marines
came from the United States Marines, we trained under the same doctrine, we
have the same tactics and the same mentality. We wait as the singing dies
down and the silence takes over, every sound is an enemy sneaking towards
you, no matter where you are. Soon I hear Nhut across the radio µSir, enemy
in range.¶ And Du Hoc says µBug, Torque, do it now.¶

I look down the night vision scope and see rows of men only one storey
below me and a hundred metres back. They approach us and Torque mutters
into his headset µThis is for Short.¶ The buildings on each side of the mass
explode inwards. The shrapnel bombs shred some of the pale raggedy ass
Malicers and the tougher ones are crushed by the falling buildings. Some
begin climbing out and over the rubble, then Bug opens up alongside other
Heavy Weapons Experts. They disembowel and mince the enemies. Then a
flare flies into the air, it illuminates the roads in front of me, Malicers pool out
of the ruined buildings they were hiding in and run into the streets. Hordes of
them, they soon reach the second area and all the rifles and machine gunners
open up, taking them down by the dozens, the horde moves on undaunted.

The rifles and MGs hold their ground as the big Lead Heads fire
mounds of lead and the crazy brave Boom-Men zip through the ranks
pressing switches and throwing grenades at groups of enemies. Then the call
comes in for the Verans, the CQB experts to haul ass. They demonstrate their
skills, running into the Malicers that get too close and cutting them down.
Soon the Verans begin losing ground and retreat to their sandbags and rifles.
Soon the close quarter Malicer infantry are almost completely wiped out.
Then the Malicer gunners make their debut. The shadowy figures peek out of
any and all holes they find and take shots at our men. I see one, a regular
Malicer. He is wearing a full face helmet but the face is guarded by tinted
amber glass. I fire a maw round into the visor and his face caves in on him as
the visor shatters.

The fragments of the visor fall to the group and liquefy, turning into
nectar like liquid. More of his buddies come from the rubble and fire at us as
the skinny Runners drag him off. I don¶t bother with the runners, somewhere
in the hospital Zoom and Langreki are loading Enzo de Coreur into a truck
for interrogation back at base. After I fire at a couple of Malicers and hit all
of them, a light appears, not like a flare though. It leaves a trail of smoke; a
missile hits the sandbags and blows them inward along with their squad. Most
of the men get back up and some are treated by medics as some are dragged
off to join the stiff dead.

I scan for the missile launcher and see him, another amber helmet. I fire
at his body and he falls over, the round flies into him. Then as I am about to
move on the fucker picks himself up. I think and fire again, with the same
result, so I load a Ripp-Round and fire it into his knee. The amber marksman
picks himself up much slower. I fire into his visor and the Ripp takes his head
off alongside the helmet, which turns to liquid and covers his face. I tell Edgy
to give me a headset. He passes one to me and I attach it to my collar and
shout µThe gunners, aim for the visor.¶ Soon I notice that there are less amber
visors in view. Now this is a fire-fight I think to myself.

I fire a volley of Ripp rounds and end up tearing limbs at the joint and
heads at the shoulders. Then Du Hoc radios in a position for the DMs to fire
at, a building where the Malicers are bringing their casualties. I take aim at
some tall man, he looks like the one from Firebase Turkey. I use a Ripp round
as Du Hoc yells µFire!¶. The round flies through the thick ornamental helmet
and flies out the other side along with the Sentaur¶s brains. His neck twists
and his legs fail him, he falls in mid-sentance. I spot through my scope, a
group of marines using butts and bayonets to repel some Malicers, I fire at the
toughest looking one and he falls bac k onto a few smaller guys. Then a group
of Shot-Gunners come up and begin to blow away the desperate, outreached
hands of the Malicers. The radio begins to call out for us; it is Torque µMac
wants the flamethrower!¶ I respond µMac wants the what!?¶ It seemed funny
at the time. I pass the rifle to Zombie and sprint down stairs and get to the
motor pool, I sling the flamethrower across my back and run down the long
hallway, all in about 30 seconds and reach the main door.

I walk outside and crouch low, I avoid the enemy fire and walk over to
Torque and he is taking cover with Shrike. He chucks a grenade blindly over
the sandbags and ends up blowing up a full squad of the bastards. He says in
one word µGimme¶ and I throw it to him, he tells me µYou keep loadin g it
when I give the order, Shrike make sure we don¶t get hit. It¶ll do more harm
than good.¶ The flamethrowers, if hit, would go up in a fireball. A slow and
fiery death, in would consume all of those nearby. Torque waits for me to
connect the flamethrower¶s hose with a canister of napalm; it is an older
model of the Simonov Flamethrower. The newer version has the canister
mounted on the flamethrower itself, just slide the canister in and resume
burning shit. Which allows one man to use it, this is the older version, which
can still be used by one man, but the canister is either mounted on his back or
a second man holds it.

I yell µLet her rip!¶ and Torque jerks the trigger. A wall of fire comes
from the small mouth of the flamethrower. It reaches about 10 metres ahead
of us, burning all in its reach, and napalm doesn¶t come off. Many of the
Malicers however, are determined and still claw at us except this time they are
on fire. Soon Torque empties the canister and is attacked by a Malicer Ogre.
The Ogre like the one I found the day before with Nellis, he jumps over the
sandbag and instead of getting a shot at Torque with his dagger and deformed
pistol, he meets Shrike and his Pigrim and wrist-blade. Shrike opens the palm
of his left hand and lifts it up, the blade slides out and he gouges at the Ogre
with it, he hits the Malicer with the palm of his hand and the wrist-blade. The
Ogre grabs his chest, drops his weapons and falls back over the sandbag. A
bunch of Runners grab the Ogre to reclaim the body but Shrike shouts µHe is
mine!¶ And fires his Pilgrim at the Runners, he rips some up and the rest
scatter and abort their mission. Except for one who runs back and picks up
his arm and turns to follow his comrades.

Torque reloads the flamethrower and empties the final canister on a

group of Sentaurs followed by their amber gunners. Most of the Malicers are
engulfed in flames and roll around on the floor, twitching and reaching for
their comrades as they run past ignoring them. They burn up until they are
black and crisp. Torque shouts µI like them medium rare!¶ He unleashed the
last spray of the flamethrower fuel and hits a few scrawny Runners. The
Malicers retreat to the ruined buildings across the road and down the street.
We think we¶ve won this fight but after a couple minutes of taking pot-shots
at each other there is a rumbling to be heard. The noise advanced and soon
the noises creator turned a corner.

What we saw was an Armadillo but adorned in alien symbols and

covered in barbed wire and the dead bodies of a marine squad. It rolled
forward and Du Hoc calmly ordered µMissiles, bring it down¶ With a wave of
his left hand the rockets flew past with a trail of smoke and hit the Armadillo,
one missile hit the centre, the drivers section, one hit the tracks on the right
side and another missile hit the ground underneath with a high explosive
round. The HE round blew a hole in the bottom, the track snapped and got
tangled with the wheel and the drivers section was engulfed in fire, but still
the Armadillo rolled on. It began to reach our position. I moved back and I
saw marines just open up on it. I took cover and watched until the renegade
Armadillo began to roll over the sandbag walls and crush the dead bodies of
Malicers. Then as a few people turned and ran the Armadillo erupted into an
explosion, it picked up marines and threw them into the air, it knocked me
over and covered me in rubble.

I couldn¶t see anything and then I thought I was dead, but I felt
somebody standing on me, I reached my hand out of the rubble. The leg I
grabbed was startled and soon I was pulled out by Val and Crash. µGet up on
your feet Smart-Ass!¶ Crash ordered. I look around and see wounded and
dead marines, along with fatigued comrades picking through the rubble.
Crash looks at me and says µWe lost Denelly and Marty is down.¶ I looked
around and saw Marty being held down by medics, he was missing his right
leg below the knee and looked at it in disbelief. I pick up a Pilgrim from a
dead marine, not much of him left, his innards outward. The Pilgrim has an
under-slung grenade launcher.
 We¶ve barely any time to rebuild our defences when the cries of the
Malicers can be heard. Coming for us again, this wave is larger and more
experienced. I see the first of them running over the rubble and ruined
buildings, over their own dead. I see these ones are the ones they call Zealots.
They wear helmets which are shaped as skulls and have a silver colour to
them along with black glass covering theirs and the skulls eyeholes.

I begin firing at them, followed by every rifle in the group. This defence
is a lot less organized but soon we get our heads together. Soon the snipers
work in unison, the Lead Heads rearm, the MGs reload, the Rifles regroup,
the Commissar begin to order the men, the Sergeants direct fire, the Verans
destroy any that get too close, the missile launchers decimate the enemy
Sentaurs and the Medics restock. Soon the line is back up again. The radio
calls in for a grenade volley, so we wait for the go and all let a grenade fly.
Soon the enemy get too close and the Shot-Gunners shotgun the shit out of
them, the MGs rip the enemies to shred and the Verans always manage to
save you in the nick of time.

Shrike is stabbing at the Silver Skulls while Necta teases and taunts the
Runners, Torque blows the Sentaurs to hell and Zombie picks off the Amber
Gunners. Quite frankly, I feel a little left out so I tear into the crowds until I
realize the sun is rising. The Skulls begin to retreat and the Runners drag off
whatever they can, I shoot one as he runs back to us for good measure. Then
there is cheering. Raskov stands on the sandbags and yells µ Ura!¶ as the rest
join in I see a light shining from something. I look over and see an Amber
visor and then there is a loud 

 . Raskov drops his pistol and falls to the
ground as Du Hoc and Necta grab him and turn him on his back, the medics
work on him.

I vault over the sandbags, I grab Raskov¶s pistol and run towards the
sniper. They see me and I see them. I raise the Pilgrim and put the revolver in
my belt. The sniper runs but not before I fire at them and see rounds run up
their back, the sniper falls and I drop the empty Pilgrim. I take out the pistol
and look at the sniper, still trying to get up, though no amount of tech is going
to help them now I think to myself. I walk over and turn the sniper over with
my foot; they are cringing in pain as I pull the helmet off. I see a young girl of
about 17 years lying there. Blood is gathering in her mouth, I aim the pistol at
her, the sun is reflecting from her gold hair, she shot Raskov in the back. µBut
I can¶t... Not like this¶ I think. Then I throw the helmet to the ground and
shoot it in the visor. I pick up the gun and walk off, not before looking at her
armour, like all the other Amber Gunners she has yellow clothing underneath
the metal armour.

This armour was different, it was plain, and of a higher quality than
ours. She looked like a rookie trooper. I turned and left with her helmet and
gun as I heard Runners scurrying to her side. She moaned and cursed in a
foreign language as they dragged her off. I returned as Raskov finally stopped
breathing. Du Hoc held onto him as Val and another Medic gave up and went
around the battlefield to find wounded. Mournes sat on the sandbag wall
smoking a pipe like Necta¶s but made of rough dark timber. I put the helmet
down beside him, sticking it in between me and him; I sat down beside him
and put the rifle down in front of me. µGood job¶ he said. Then he looked at
the helmet and said µOut-fucking-standing Smart-Ass.¶ He puffed with his
pipe and said µYou¶re born again hard.¶ I said µThanks, Commissar.¶

Soon after the clean up the A-Facs and Armadillos returned and we
boarded them, the squad was back together. All 17 of us plus Lt Bookworm,
also called Lt Hertz. Hertz was a short man with glasses and a round chubby
face. He wore glasses and as his name suggested, he was an avid reader. More
so than me, he and I had some good conversations before about poetry, plays
or novels, he was a nice approachable C.O. He crouched down sitting on the
ramp up to the drivers section where Knox, Sev and Torque were. He began
to talk µAlright squad, we¶ve lost Raskov and what was left of 64 th after the
first attack was wiped out, the only survivors were Omaha and Tharpa. I
remembered Dawson his partner, how we trained together for so long.

Bookworm continued µBroga, the 65 th need a squad lead, you¶re up.¶

Butcher just nodded and asked µWhere to?¶ Bookworm said µThe Armadillo
with 65 written on it, you¶ll be hitching a ride with them.¶ Broga left and
didn¶t say a word to us he just looked at us. Bookworm says µNecta, you are
Broga¶s replacement.¶ Necta faintly nodded, he was cleaning his weapon with
a rag and spit. I still had the helmet from the sniper, inside I saw written:

Ⱥɧɚɫɬɚɡɢɹ

əɧɬɚɪɧɵɟ Ɋɭɥɢ

1-ɵɣ ɉɨɜɬɨɪɧɨ ɩɨɞɫɬɚɜɢɥɢ

I recognized it as Russian, it said:

Anastasia

Amber Helms

1st Recon

µAnastasia eh?¶ I said to myself. The rifle had a motto written on it yet
again in Russian:

Ʉɨɝɞɚ ɛɨɝɚɬɵɟ ɞɟɥɚɸɬ ɜɨɣɧɭ, ɷɬɨ - ɛɟɞɧɵɟ, ɤɨɬɨɪɵɟ ɭɦɢɪɚɸɬ.

It said:

When the rich make wars it¶s the poor that die.

Ain¶t it the truth? I lived in the poor Russian/ English speaking sector of the
Venture Industrial and now I and many like myself are dying for our planet
and its rich, but at the same time aren¶t the Malicers looking for the same?

Onboard with us is Marty, he is sedated and Val is sitting next to him,

having taken care of his wound. I look at Anastasia¶s helmet and think of my
own, it¶s still in my bag onboard the Armadillo, it has a q uote written on it in
white paint ³In case of emergency: fuck the rules´. It has a mount for NVGs
and a little fur µtail¶ stuck to the back, some fur from bought from a random
crap store. I keep a spare M-PAR mag tied around my helmet just in case and
of course a red bulls-eye symbol on the very top of my head. I have a name tag
you¶d see in a clothes store around the strap that secures the mag to my
helmet. I take off the olive drab cap I have on and connect it to my belt. I put
my helmet on and connect a headset to it.

Bookworm continues: µThe plan is that we¶re assembling at the library,

from there we retreat to the rear and get evac going. We are leaving Sled.¶ We
already knew this, since Turkey I knew we were boned. The Armadillos stop
soon afterwards and Bookworm gets out and asks µWhat is up ahead!?¶ One
of the A-Facs drivers yells back, µRoadblock sir!¶ Captain Monroe exited the
A-Fac with his Pilgrim and he wore the baggy cargos with boots and from
there on up he was civilian, wearing a white t-shirt with ³Pilgrim Arms´
written on it in dark black, it said underneath ³Making Hell a crowded place
since 2021.´ Pilgrim was an ancient arms manufacture, dating back to Earth.
They basically allowed World War 3 to start. And won it too, making
themselves a name as Problem Solvers.

He put on his helmet and sunglasses and began hollering in his Danish
accent µO¶Malley, get on up there, Broga take a group as well, I smell an
ambush.¶ Crash orders us µNecta take Knox, Straight-Arrow and Smart-Ass.¶
He looks around and says µEdgy, Bug and Zombie, you¶re lucky enough to
accompany me!¶ He ordered the rest to µHold up¶. We left the Armadillo and
waited for the men of Broga¶s new team, made from the remnants of other
teams, to climb over the rubble. We sneak up to a pile of rubble, most of it
just pieces of building. Crash orders us µBug set up when I give you the order,
Zombie keep watch and Necta, your team move go down the middle.¶ Crash
runs along the side of the rubble mound to Broga¶s team. He tells Broga to go
down the left side and keep a few guys on watch, he leaves 2 riflemen and
brings himself and 2 Veran MG gunners alongside the clearing.

I look out at the clearing and see a plain field, once a playing area for
kids, the grass is almost all gone, burned and blown up. Along the clearing
from the middle is a long trench. On the left there is a bunch of ruined burnt
out vehicles. Necta runs along the middle trench and I follow him. On the
right side there is a concrete wall about hip height and at the end, at a corner
there is a house with a collapsed roof. Necta tells Knox to follow and Straight -
Arrow sprints to the front of the group to run point. He runs out of the trench
and runs to the house followed by us. Broga¶s team runs down the road that
we look down from the left corner of the house. Crash moves his team up to
our position and tells Necta to follow Broga¶s team. As I turn the corner I see
that Broga¶s team are hiding behind a vehicle which merged itself with a wall.
Broga moves his hand up and down and whispers µGet down.¶ We drop to our
stomachs.

I look ahead and see Jotuun Rangers, including the officer from the
school. She is ordering them to stack sandbags and rocks, we watch, in case
they are expecting Malicers. I see a Sentaur come from one of the buildings
with a group of Silver Skulls behind him, the commander greets them. Necta
tells me to take out the 2 of them as they move up, Knox however can¶t wait.
He stands up and yells µDie bitch!¶ He unleashes a volley of Hornet Rounds.
The commander ducks but the Sentaur is hit and gets peppered by rounds. He
falls back with a loud ÷
.
 The Jotuun squad dive for cover as the Silver Skulls fall left to right to
avoid Knox¶s fire. Most of the Skulls get up and run for cover. There were 30
Silver Skulls, there are now 22. These ones have assault rifles, they look like
an alien parody of the Pilgrim, darker and different features, such as different
sights and design. Knox stands up and walks with his gun held in one arm
from the hip and a belt of ammo around his left arm. Straight -Arrow runs up
and takes cover behind some rubble. Me and Necta sprint up to Knox as he
takes cover in a little dead end alleyway. I see a door leading into a building,
Necta kicks in the door and I follow him in along with Knox, now Straight -
Arrow is on his own, and Broga¶s group are hidden. Crash moved up with his
men, Bug sets up by a burnt out truck and set the minigun on a bipod behind
the truck. Zombie takes cover on the left wall, he hides behind a dumpster.
Every now and then he pops out and fires a shot at any exposed enemy.

We move in and Knox runs to the front most room of the house, he fires
through the window and takes cover behind the wall; Necta kicks open the
door and tosses out a concussive grenade, used to disorientate and confuse
enemies. 2 are killed and another few run from the grenad e, some are
incapacitated as the light blinds them and the noise makes their ears ring,
Knox cuts them down, half blinded himself. Necta then throws out a good ole
High Explosive and kills more Skulls plus 2 rangers, bonus points. I run up
the house stairs and end up in a room, it frightened me out. A child¶s
bedroom, with a cot and a mobile frame, I fought tides of Malicers back at
Zulu and the Hospital, and only now was I definitely scared. I remembered
my childhood and shit I shouldn¶t think of during a fight or before.

I shake it off, though the fear claws at the back of my mind. I open the
window; I can¶t bear it, thinking of breaking the window. I aim out and see
that there is a group of 3 rangers and 5 Skulls. I aim out and send a burst
along the left of the ammo crates they are lying behind; they don¶t know that
we are only half a squad on them. Broga and his team slowly creep up to
concrete blockades, yet to be used on the roads. They wait for the right
moment and then Straight-Arrow runs out of cover to get to them.

I see a round hit him in the head; he collapses, with half a head. His
helmet falls off and exposes his open skull. Broga punches the concrete block,
the Skulls haven¶t spotted him yet. I fire at the enemies again, I fire from the
right side of the ammo crate to the left and hit 6 enemies in the legs, knee caps
explode, legs are shattered and muscles are sliced open. Many of them sit up
to grab their legs, the smarter ones who stay down get to keep theirs. The ones
who sit up are killed by Knox. I see the Commander firing her pistol at Bug¶s
position. I fire wildly and angrily and hit her in the right thigh and left arm,
she drops her sabre but grasps the pistol. So like the Chef sniper I fire at her
pistol arm, waiting for a loyal ranger to try and pull her out. She shouts for
them to stay, tough bitch. I fire at her and hit her left ankle and then her right
foot. One Ranger breaks for it and grabs her, she tries to shake him off but I
do it for her, his solid black visor breaks and his face pools out of the helmet.
She curses and tries to crawl; I hit her in the right thigh and then finally the
left shoulder. She stays still but is still alive; she is breathing heavily trying not
to attract attention.

Knox¶s rounds shred the ammo crates and bullets soon make their way
through. The surviving Rangers and Skulls make a break for it, running up
the road; Knox kills most of them and wounds the others. I aim my rifle at a
concrete blockade, a Ranger breaks from the wall and raises his arms to
surrender, I kill him, hitting him in the throat. He grabs his neck and drops,
he doesn¶t fall like the Sentaur did, he drops limply to the ground. Soon I see
the shapes of Knox and the 2 Verans sprint to the building opposite the one
I¶m in, in the left corner of the court. The Verans drop and fire, the rubble
covers them. Broga stand up and fires his Caesar then pumps it and as he is
about to fire again, he stops. I see Rangers leaving with their arms up, Skulls
also give up.

I count the survivors, 7 Skulls out of 30. And there are 12 Rangers out
of the 20. Soon more men show up. As all the captives are checked, one lashes
out at Broga with a dagger, Broga casually leans back, then grabs the Skull¶s
arm, he twists it and brings up his knee, snapping the arm. The Skull grabs
the broken joint and Broga hurls him to the ground. He falls on his back and
Broga drops to his knees; he begins pounding the Skull all over his body. He
brings each fist around, bombarding the Skull¶s face. He rips the helmet off
and beats the Skull until his face can¶t be recognized. Marines cheer on and
Broga finishes the Skull with HIS dagger, he draws a 2 foot long knife from
his holster on his right boot. A custom Veran knife, made by either himself or
a Clan Forger, he then shows us where he got the nickname µButcher¶ from.

Afterwards, most of the men recognize Straight¶s dead body and some
begin hitting the captives with their rifle butts and jabbing at them,
threatening them with their bayonets. Then a group led by Captain Monro e
come back from the street ahead of us with Jotuun and Human civilians. The
interpreter, Lewks tells Bookworm µThey say they¶re under the New Sled
Alliance protection.¶ Monroe takes of his helmet and hands it to a soldier. He
walks over to the wounded Commander, she is lying propped against the wall.
Monroe walks over and asks in a loud angry voice µNew Alliance yeah!?¶ She
spits, most of it lands on her collar but he gets the message, he draws his pistol
and fires, he hits her through the left eye and walks off. The civilians turn to
leave but Broga¶s Veran MGs are aiming at them. The civilians are moved
into the square. The Marines back off and encircle the group of over 50
Jotuun and Human civies or Rangers. The Malicers are escorted to the wall
that was opposite the concrete blockade that Broga hid behind. They are shot
one at a time and thrown into a pile. The Rangers and civies all back up to the
wall near their Commander.

I¶m next to Straight¶s covered up body, Val is taking off his dogtags and
taking his ammo and items of use. That was also his job as a medic, a
scavenger. The Marines all whisper to each other. I was distracted by Straight
and Val, but I heard the words µrevenge¶, µteach µem a lesson¶ and other such
words. Many of them aim their weapons at the crowd and some men such as
the Medics and Zombie or Cyclops turn and leave. The Marines begin
shooting at the crowd. I get angry at the sight of Straight and shoot the
wounded Rangers I got along with any bastards that get in the way.

I don¶t count my kills, after the massacre I put it out of my mind. That
wasn¶t me, for the previous 10 minutes I wasn¶t me, I was a feared Black
Rifle, an Imperialist, brainwashed killer who ate children that misbehaved
and killed their adult siblings. That is the truth but fuck the truth... It don¶t
mean a thing, not a damn thing. The truth is these sneaky bastards betrayed
us and killed my friends, hurt my beloved Corp. That is my version of the
truth. Not all civies are killed, some escape, some are let go, the children are
along with whoever runs away with them. The rest of us aren¶t that merciful.
I certainly am not. I root through the bodies and souvenir some stuff.
Including a bullet that hit the Commander¶s vest and a pendant that hung
around her neck, I also take the dogtags of my kills.

Shrike and the Verans know not to take spoils unless they are needed. I
respect the Verans, they got balls and discipline, but I feel that only weighs me
down, our job is to kill; anything else is a waste of time. I move back with the
squad to the Armadillos and A-Facs. We leave and find another way around.
Soon we are rolling through the narrow streets. Bookworm doesn¶t say a
word; he didn¶t take part in it. He kept ordering µCease fire¶ but he was
ignored. He left when he realized nothing could be done. Crash didn¶t take
part either, but he watched without a smile, he knew this would happen. Sev
left, and so did Edgy. Lover Boy couldn¶t do it and Broga called the lot of
them µpussies¶. Broga says to Shrike µCome on Veran, they were laughing at
us, but not anymore.¶ Shrike sighed and said µFather would be ashamed.¶ He
then had a hint of anger appear in his face, he clenched his fist and hit his
right thigh. He hadn¶t moved since. He looked around eventually but upon
seeing my new jewellery he just lay back and stared at the roof.

We are in the front Armadillo, a few times it is shot at or has rocks

dropped on it to sound like gunfire to slow us. The big guns scare the Runners
off. At one stage a bullet ricochets off the second Armadillo¶s roof, Broga was
at the gun and orders us to fire, Bug uses his minigun, B roga uses the rocket
pods and every other gunner uses whatever they have, the buildings behind us
where the rounds came from, collapse.

Soon the Armadillos stop in the familiar square, Knox is on the roof
gun now and fires shots at the school as we passed it yelling curses at the
memories. Most of the squad allow him to until Crash yells µKnox!¶ he stops
and asks µWhat¶ and Crash says loudly µShut the fuck up!¶ most of the squad
laugh, except Shrike, Zombie and Lover Boy. They are thinking about our
role in what we did. I look at the pendant I have, it is a little dog made of
silver. The dog opens up and turns out to be a pendant, saying ³To Han Ly,
Do what is right for us, from your father, Anh Dung.´ I think, well ain¶t that
sweet, her daddy raised a traitor.

We dismount and enter the library with our new gear and some heavy
hearted guys who got cold feet, we pretend they aren¶t with us, as if they just
followed us in. I see that there are a lot of wounded and dead. I look over at
the Machine Gunner¶s post and see a puddle of blood and bits of flesh, a
medic begins cleaning it up and stands the gun back up, it was down on the
ground with its barrel aiming at the ceiling.

The Gunner is either dead or untidy. Poor bastard either way, the
untidy die after the dead do, death only comes for them because the dead died
due to the lazy fucking up. Just as Commissar Petrov taught us, by not having
staff build our bunks, or having Armoury grunts check if the rifles were
unloaded. We had 10 wounded at the end of the week and I was shot twice
during live fire training, though that was MY fault admittedly. I notice that all
the C.Os are herded into a back room where other big shots in 3 rd Platoon are.
All the surviving staff sergeants, the Commissars, Jenkins and Captain
Monroe enter the room. After a few minutes, I hear Commissar Du Hoc and
Mournes shouting, in some arguement. Seabold shuts them up by roaring over
them. Soon afterwards they all leave the room. Mournes and Monroe stand at
the front of the group, they stay until the rest settle down and we all stop
talking.

Mournes gestures for us to stand, I hear one wounded man ask µWhat¶s
going on?¶ and he gets shushed by a Staff Sergeant. Mournes starts talking
µWe have decided that I will replace Head Commissar Raskov as the Platoon
HC.¶ I was at the front of the group and sitting next to the machinegun.

He continues µI realize that there was a certain situation earlier, I was

in the area but unable to act.¶ He looks specifically at our squad, Broga¶s and
Lt. Donovich¶s. He looks me in the eye and I don¶t look away. He continues
µThere are going to be consequences. We are withdrawing from Commissar¶s
Reach, they need volunteers to make a diversionary attack. They need
volunteers so I was kind enough to volunteer US.¶ Some men groan and sigh
and others curse. Soon the group dies down. µThe plan is that we take up
positions at the northern gates of the industrial area. At midnight we will
charge the enemy fortifications. With the assistance of Little Birds and
armoured vehicles, we will keep killing until it is our turn to get the hell out of
dodge. We will be picked up in the field by Raven Gunships. From then on out
just hope the enemy don¶t figure out what we do.¶ Then he walks away and
Du Hoc said µPrepare for this battle, we are going to be up in THEIR killing
fields and THEIR defences.¶ The Marines don¶t need any more convincing, we
all prepare our stuff.

I paint my face, throughout history Venture warriors used

psychological warfare and making themselves a symbol of dread. I painted my
face pale white and a jet black boot polish line running across my face, over
the bridge of my nose. I take off my shirt and pack it away. I expose the
tattoos on my arms and back, I put on only an open flak jacket to cover my
torso. I give Zombie my M-PAR and I take the MG off of its bipod, I keep the
bipod secure to my bag. I only pack what I need, leaving behind only useless
stuff like spare socks and dump it all in the Armadillo. I look at Zombie; he
has a white face with black polish stripes running down his face, he snarls and
smiles afterwards. Shrike doesn¶t need much more to improve on his
intimidating image. We all gear up with heavy weapons, we aren¶t trying to be
a versatile fighting force, we are the enemy now. The animals .
 Shrike is polishing his wrist-blade, and I fall asleep for the first time in
a day. I write something on my chest, ³I am become death´ in the boot polish
black. We mount our Armadillos and trundle out to battle. The drivers play
their music, some of it as old as it gets. We get the song ³Surfin¶ Bird by The
Trashmen´ I don¶t care what the others think, that is my war song.

I sit on the edge of the Armadillo looking back on the library.

³A-well-a everybody's heard about the bird

B-b-b-bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word´

The Raven Gunships whoosh by to bombard the factory area.

³A-well-a bird, bird, bird, the bird is the word

A-well-a bird, bird, bird, well the bird is the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word´

I can smell the napalm, the gasoline smell. I feel like doing my Colonel
Kilgore impersonation I mastered back in school. I tap Shrike on the
shoulder, he is sitting on my left and Zombie is on my right. I say µDo you
smell that?¶ And he responds µWha?¶ Perfect response µNapalm son, nothing
in the world smells like that...¶ He looks at me confused, the Verans don¶t get
my impersonations, but I continue I say it proudly µI LOVE THE SMELL OF
NAPALM IN THE MORNING.¶ Zombie laughs and Shrike thinks, then he
asks µGunny Sergeant Hartman?¶ I shout µNo! Kilgore.¶ Some of the guys
hear me and laugh. I turn to them and µI DO!¶ And I do, that smell is great,
probably unhealthy but when did I care.

³Papa-ooma-mow-mow, ooma-mow-mow
Well don't you know about the bird?
Well, everybody knows that the bird is the word!
A-well-a bird, bird, b-bird's the word´

The song fades out and another starts up, ³Wooly Bully by Sam the
Sham´. We laugh and sing along.

³Uno, dos, one, two, tres, quatro

Matty told Hatty about a thing she saw.
Had two big horns and a wooly jaw.
Wooly bully, wooly bully.
Wooly bully, wooly bully, wooly bully. ³

Even Crash is singing along and messing. He ties back his dishevelled
hair and has red paint on his face and body, he isn¶t wearing a shirt or jacket,
just a bandolier of ammo and packing a Viscerator. Most of us have
Viscerators and Pilgrims. We roll on, as the song reaches its end the
Armadillos stop suddenly and we pool out, singing the final line

³Wooly bully, wooly bully, wooly bully.´

Most of the Armadillos are playing metal and country, having sombre,
quiet moments or bloodlust filled metal sessions. We stroll over as men run
past us, keeping their heads low. I look around with my MG swinging on its
strap by my thigh and see Zorolla. This guy is either desperate for some good
footage or he is an idiot. The attack is about to begin so we all stack up behind
the two big walls by the main gate. We are ready for the fight, though nobody
could truly be. 60th squad, 64th, 65th under Broga and the goddamned 66 th
stack up bu the walls by the gates. Along with the Commissars, Straken soon
arrives with the surprisingly experienced 67 th and 68 th. He talks briefly with
the Commissars and the squads join us in the stack. I pull at Zorolla and he
turns around, I say µStick with me and you¶ll get some good footage, I don¶t
advise it though.¶ He is dressed in olive drab fatigues and standard boots. He
took off his glasses and is next to Dempsey, who is dressed the same but rolls
up his sleeves and wears a bulky Infantry helmet. Zorolla says µI¶m tired of
standing by getting shit.¶ I grab him and say µWell then you gotta get INTO
the shit.¶ He nods and moves so that he is behind me and Shrike.

I pardon and excuse myself up to the corner of the wall, on the left side.
I peek over and Du Hoc whispers for me to get back, so I take in all I see and
go back to Zorolla, the factory district is on fire already, the Ravens haven¶t
arrived. The factory area has a group of workers tenements on the far side
and on the side by the gates there are a maze of ruined and hollowed out
factories. They are on fire, the Venture Infantry that left the place followed
the Scorched Earth Policy, burning anything of use. Then from the dark
clouds, a squadron of Raven Gunships fly over the factory area, dropping
little parcels from their rear. Then they bombard the area with a whirlwind of
missiles and MG fire from angry door gunners on the side and at the bay
doors.
 Then I see a digital clock on Zorolla¶s shaking arm, it turns 12:0 0 and
the order to charge is given, we all turn the corner. Out of the 120 we all had
as we hit Sled, we now have over 60 marines. Our 15 marines, Broga¶s squad
of 12, the 60th have 18 scary marines, the 64 th have 6 marines and 67 th and 68th
have 32 between them. All looking like monsters with the pale and black faces,
Mournes orders us in first, followed by the other squads, then Straken and the
67th and 68 th charge. We spread out and wade our way through the smoke and
fire. The Malicers are nowhere to be seen, I can hear feet against the concrete
and laughing, the laughing of the Malicers watching us.

We make it through the labyrinth and come out of the alleyways; they
spit us out into the field between us and the enemy. The Malicers are waiting
inside the tenements and begin firing at us with heavy weapons. The ghosts
meet the monsters with enough guts to show themselves, unlike the shy ghosts.
We break into sprint and charge the area, Marines fall and some get back up.
I see Buck, operating the Missile Launcher on his own next to Legs. Legs
moves a little, he has been shot in the right shoulder, under the collar bone.
Val moves to him, soon he gives him some pain killer and moves on, no time
for bandages, we are close now. In the first charge on the killing field, we
make it 100 metres, only another hundred to go. I see Shrike and Zombie
taking cover next to me, behind them is Edgy, Preacher and a few men from
other squads, 8 of them. I shout at them and they all turn to me. The 8
marines are all privates and corporals, and 1 other medic.

Gant ran up, emerging from a crater and fell at the mound of dirt we
lay behind. The medic was quick, he was checking her out as she hit the dirt,
she slaps him off shouting µI¶m fine, I¶m fine...¶ I get everybody¶s attention, I
start making a plan with Shrike, shouting over the noise. I say µShrike, you
take Gant, Zombie, Preacher, Edgy and the medic, I¶ll take the rest as a
distraction.¶ He looks at me and says µYou¶ll die.¶ Not saying it out of common
sense but as a prediction. µRight about now I don¶t care for that.¶ He
continues µGood luck you crazy mother.¶ I nod and talk to the privates. One is
a tech expert called Galtosino, from Industrial, he dropped all his gear aside
from the cargo shorts he made by cutting off the legs. He is wearing the dark
Ranger Commandant shades and is covered in white and black, war slogans
all over his body. I grab him and say µPrivate, you are now a corporal, you
take these two guys and I¶ll take the rest, wait here and hit whoever fires on
us.¶ He nods and says with his exotic accent µSure thing m¶man.¶ I look at the
5 in front of me; I must get these guys moving. One is a big, heavy guy with a
Caesar.
 We run over the top and charge the dark windows of the tenement
building. Some of the men fall and I see Shrike duck with the squad, one isn¶t
fast enough and has rounds rip through his body. We keep running, only 10
metres to go and I see enemies turn and run in terror or because they realize
they¶ll be cut up by us in CQC. Most of the force moves up and I move along
the right side throwing a grenade into every window with a barrel pointing
out of it. Soon I reach the central building of the tenements. There is an
alleyway, I run in and come face to face with a missile launcher. He fires and
hits the ground nearby, I remember the deafening noise and flying through
the air.

I wake up in an empty hallway; the doorway behind me is caved in by

the collapsed alleyway. I try to move and feel my right foot burn. I yell out
and hear foreign whispering. I look at my foot, convinced it¶s gone and the
panic begins climbing up my backbone. I see a lot of red and think it¶s over. I
see my foot poking out through the boot I was wearing, I realize I took a hit in
my right calve. I pull myself up, trying not to curse out loud. Then I decide to
limp my way across the area.

I enter a room through the only available doorway in the narrow hall. I
see wounded being dragged out from a grenade. I rush in and fire at the
Runners; they are torn up by the weapon. I move to the next and wait for a
round to hit a gunner, then the Runners enter and I gun them all down. I
begin to see my world spin, the smell of blood and guts clogs my nose and my
world turns black.

I am walking along the streets of Industrial again, the busy streets, the
local criminals hanging about with their guns, they hide them as the patrolling
cops show up, in Industrial they wear armour and masks, whereas anywhere
else in the city they use uniformed cops, really says somethin g about home. I
remember the cops beating me senseless until I stop fighting back, they haul
me off to their car, soon it joins up with a convoy of vehicles including an
armoured vehicle, it has firing ports and a roof gunner. In front of that is
another armoured car, probably holding prisoners.

The cops talk into their radio, he says µWe are hauling in another one of
them damn gutter runners.¶ I am no gutter runner and try to say it but it
hurts too much. The armoured car¶s gunner raised a hand to acknowl edge the
cops in the car. He is hit by something from behind. The cops get out of their
car, a new and reinforced cruiser, the one on the right side, the driver gets as
far as the bonnet of the car and I see from the back, his blood spray across the
urban, black, white and gray paint. The other one looks at his partner, he
runs up to his door, he leans in and grabs the radio off the hook. A man walks
up behind him, he has his hair shaved at the side, the hair on his head looks
like the haircut they give to pathfinders. He is wearing solid black goggles, like
Bug¶s. He is wearing a heavy flak jacket and no shirt. He has black gloves on
with the design of skeletal fingers, he has a bandolier tightened around his
waist and a wooden and metal Parapat SMG, a long magazine curves out of
the magazine port for the gun, it is curved like a banana, at least that¶s how I
could describe it.

He looks at the cop who begins talking into the radio; µHey Murphy,
we¶re under...¶ The man with the Parapat lets go of his weapon and it swings
to his right side, a strap holds it around his shoulder. He takes out some long
knife, more like a spike and he reaches into the car. He pulls the cop by the
back of his collar and rams him into the spike. The cop looks down and his
helmet is ripper off by the man. He slowly stops squirming and the guy with
the Parapat drops him to the ground. He then raises his Parapat and fires as
the assault troopers pool out of the armoured van, he unleashes all 75 rounds
in a couple of seconds. He stops as men on the roves hit the surviving cops. He
bashes the window open and pulls me out, I hit my head and hear a
conversation. µBorvha cousin, we gotta go. He isn¶t one of ours!¶ Borvha
grunts and runs off, the cops picked me up and after realizing I wasn¶t an
abandoned ganger they said µPrison or war.¶ My tour of a year was almost up
when the Malicers decided to have their war.

I come to my senses, stabbing a Malicer Runner with my knife, he

screams each time until he stops moving. I look him in the eyes and realize
where I am, I¶m in the far room, bodies everywhere. They all have holes in
them except for the Runner, he has broad gaps in his flesh. I get pulled off of
him by Shrike and he yells as he grabs the collar of my flak jacket µGet it
together Smart!¶ We leave the building and I see the sun is about to appear in
the horizon. As we leave the building the far wall falls in key areas, breacher
charges explode. The far wall falls on the tenements. When the smoke and
dust clears, infantry pool in, our infantry, the surviving units from the
Venture 1st Foreign Legion, soldiers who swore to serve Venture and her
colonies. They shoot at us, not recog nizing us past the war paint. They hit
Preacher and he falls back, he tries to get up, he falls back and gags. Some of
the marines I led turn the corner and fall, some hit, some dead and some
pissed off.
 I yell µFriendly, friendly¶ I raise my left hand and my ring finger
explodes. I lean back and grab my hand, Shrike throws a green smoke
grenade. The Infantry stop as they see Commissar Mournes in his jacket and
hat, looking pissed off. He yells µWhat in the name of Jesus Harold Non-
Existent Christ do you ET bastards think yer doing!¶ The lead trooper backs
up and lowers his weapon. Mournes grabs his collar and hoists him up with
one hand. He presses a button on the side of the man¶s helmet and the visor
turns transparent. He asks again µWhat are you doing, GI?¶ He coughs and
says µCorporal Morales sir, we came here when the Malicers hit us hard,
they¶re on the way, we needed evac.¶ Mournes drops him and asks the woman
who stands over him µWho¶s in charge of you maggots!¶ She says µSir, Lt.
Rodriguez, sir.¶ He commands her µGet him.¶ She runs off with another
Legionnaire.

Soon after, we count the dead, a third of our people. Shrike lays down
Preacher and Val drags Legs over to the body bags. Legionnaires load up the
bodies in a container to bring them off pla net. Du Hoc begins to talk to what¶s
left of us plus the 60 Legionnaires. µRight, you want evac so bad? Well evac is
coming in soon, the Ravens will be here soon to mop up the enemy, the Long -
Birds are going to pick us up, just hold off until they are ready, we do this in
an orderly fashion. Marines get on last.¶ We understand why, the
Legionnaires are tough but they aren¶t going to stick around Du Hoc then
says µWounded and dead first.¶ A radio operator with a big obvious antenna
sticking from his back talks to the commanders and then they all look urgent
and serious almost funny from where I¶m sitting. Du Hoc is kind of stressed
looking, Mournes is still a fucking statue, Lt Morales of the Legionnaires is
trying to contain himself and Seabold is smiling li ke usual.

Zombie walks over to me and asks µWant me to move you anywhere?¶ I

say µYeah, lug me over there¶ I point at the sandbag where 2 nervous
Legionnaires are Zombie laughs µTime to show them what we can do!¶ He
drags and carries me, switching positions every few seconds and dumps me
beside the Legionnaires. I know the Malicers are coming, but this time we are
the monsters, the baby eating freaks. And I love every second of it, the Black
Rifles, the Blue Eyed Devils and the Ghouls of Commissar¶s Reach. They give
us so much great names and all we give them is Malcs, Mauls and Malicers,
that ain¶t even their name. It was coined up by Corsairs who served on the
outer rim of Corvus Alliance Space, cruising within kilometres of them in
space.
 I hear the tides amassing on the burned hills in front of us, hope the
Ravens get here first is the only thing I seem to be thinking, I don¶t think of
anything else just in case. I see the fire reflecting off of Amber Helmets and
the line of marines begins shooting at the reflections. Some vanish and others
get back up. The first of the Ravens flies over and drops parcels on the enemy,
parting gifts, napalm. The tides erupt in flames. Some walk on like candles,
they soon fall, fatigued from the heat and some run around screaming, we all
have different ways of coping. I see a couple of Sentaurs begin a charge; the
glimmering silver of the Skulls is seen followed by yelling of hordes, battle
cries. That¶s when I opened fire, the gun kicked horribly, I was weak with
blood loss. The first Long-Bird comes, backed by a Little-Bird, a 2 man craft
about 2 metres across and 3 metres long, packed with little satchels of
flammable explosives, little miniguns on the wings and a room for the co -pilot
to shoot out at enemies for the fun.

I hear a decrepit voice, it is Plague¶s. µHello Black Rifles, you have not
forgotten me yet I hope. It was inevitable that we would find you. And now
thousands of hungry brethren claw at your skin, we will consume all and end
the reign of the Ghouls of Commissar¶s Reach!¶ The horde picks up its pace
and the Little Bird swoops down firing everything it has. The 2 Legionnaires
both see a Long Bird coming and 1 is about to flee, I grad him with my good
arm and throw him back into the sandbags, he doesn¶t bu dge, he just pokes
his head out every few seconds. The horde is coming, the first Long Bird waits
for the wounded to be loaded on and Legionnaires attach the container of
dead to the underbelly of the Bird. It takes off and is followed immediately by
another, for the Legionnaires, they pool in and leave some behind for the next
ride.

The next Long Bird is flooded with Legionnaires, it takes off. I see a
light fly towards it, it hits the Bird in the left thrusters, the left wing of the
bird explodes and it spins out of control. The Bird hits the ground and slides
into the wet mud; the fire begins to spread as some lucky Legionnaires escape
from it. They sprint towards us; some are consumed by the hordes. The Bird
explodes, sending balls of fire and wreckage into the approaching enemies.
The next Bird comes as the survivors are surrounded and killed off. The
Legionnaire with the giant antenna is yelling for more firepower, a round hits
him in the back of his head; another couple fly overhead, one hit the antenna
and it snaps. Blood pours neatly out of the hole in his helmet.
 The next Bird touches the ground and Marines begin to load up, most
of the squad stays. The Little Bird lands and the co-pilot, firing his little
Razor, thumping at the hordes of enemies calls Bug. Bug jumps on and brings
his minigun. The Little Bird takes off and begins cutting down the enemies
who get too close. Bug is enjoying himself; he conquers his fear of heights by
becoming the feared. The Long Bird takes off and just dodges a missile, Bug
zeros in by following the trail of smoke. The 2 Legionnaires leave and wait for
the next Long Bird, I see a skinny dark figure throw something and the 2
Legionnaires disappear, the grenade rips them apart.

The next Long Bird lands and what is left of the Marines get on, Lover
Boy, Zorolla and Zombie help drag me to the Bird. They throw me on and pile
in. The Bird lifts up surprisingly fast, I feel the heat from its thrusters on my
face and chest, and I hear the angry rounds clanging off the hu ll of the Bird.
Crash finally boards and pulls Du Hoc up, Mournes stands up inside the
metallic room that is the Long Bird¶s cargo area. We are its cargo; the Long
bird is like a loving mother bird, keeping us safe from the angry rounds. I
look at the rest of us, we look truly like ghouls. Wearing torn and raggedy
clothes, looking hundreds of years older, pale and we smell bad. The Bird flies
off leaving the factories behind to burn.

After an hour I sleep, too fatigued to dream. The Little Bird follows us.
I look around myself and see that the squad, Du Hoc, Mournes, Zorolla and
Dempsey are onboard. Zombie is lying back trying to rest his eyes, Lover Boy
is reading a letter from home, Val is staring into space, Necta is fiddling with
his Razor and Shrike is cleaning his wrist-blade, it is almost like a hobby to
him. They are all adorned in white and black, some with slogans on their skin
and clothes. Most have dropped their weapons and are taking a breather. I
can hear Little Bird humming and buzzing outside; Bug is just about audible
over the thrusters whining µHave at it. Here¶s some to take home!¶ I laugh and
Boonie looks at me concerned, I raise a finger and stop, he here the feint
taunting and laughs too. I look at my body; some of the white paint has be en
wiped off, bloody handprints on me. I look at the bloody calve of my left leg,
my missing finger and a couple of wounds I don¶t even remember getting,
burns from close rounds, burns on my neck and a burn on the right side of my
head, some hair is missing.

The Long Bird drops us off at the dock, Fort Bacon is being evacuated,
and our Long Bird lands at a pad on the dock. 4 remaining ships are waiting
for the Long Birds to enter its hangars. We wait for an hour an available lift
out. The Marine Pilots of the Long Bird leave for a smoke followed by the able
bodied who want some fresh air, soon our lift arrives. The Long Bird soon
takes off and waits until the ship¶s hangars open up. The Long Bird boots it to
the ship and glides to the hangar doors; the Long Bird touches the metal of
the hangar. Crew men are waiting for us, I limp out and refuse assistance,
Lover Boy and Zombie bring me to the med bay where some skinny new kid
prods at me and tries to talk to me, soon he wraps me up in a TONNE of field
dressing, most of it I rip off once I leave. After an hour the ship slowly ascends
and moves forward, not so I notice.

I look out the window on the starboard side of the ship, in the squad¶s
assigned area. Camp Bacon is a few miles North of Commissar¶s Reach, the
city is still burning as the last of the empty defences are searched by the
Malicers. The Tall Man is still down there. Bug walks into the room with his
minigun, he is holding it in his right hand by a carry handle. He drops it in the
corner of the room and sits in his bunk opposite mine. He starts talking to me
µMan, those Malcs are tough little SOBs aren¶t they?¶ I don¶t answer. He
unhooks some bags of ammo and slides them underneath his bunk.

I wake up to an announcement, it begins with the usual µNow here this...

Sled, as of today has unconditionally surrendered to the Malicers. The
Malicer leader, Plague, has ordered that the human city of Commissar¶s
Reach be looted by the Malicers, all the citizens that turned on the Venture
forces are under his protection.¶ The rest of the squad come into the room and
drop their equipment at their bunks. The announcer continues µBack home
the Senate are yet to decide on what the plan is. That is all.¶ Commissar¶s
Reach was built around the same time as Venture Industrial; it began
construction after the Jotuun forces surrender to the Colonial Marines of the
Commonwealth. After a couple decades, Venture broke off from the rest of
Humanity and invaded Sled alongside the Corvus Alliance. The
Commonwealth were defeated in a day, with Alliance forces swarming the
planet. The Venture Foreign Legion was created soon afterwards.

Now Commissar¶s Reach burns and the Malicers are roaming the
streets enforcing their ideals and laws. The ship joins up with the VMS De
Valera, a military cruiser, a Battleship. The Dev as it was called is one of the
newest models of Battleship in the Venture fleet. We were behind in military
tech compared to other Human planets. Venture isn¶t exactly in a loving
relationship with the rest of Humanity, in order to understand this, one must
know all the big players in the known galaxy.
 The first and oldest of the Human alliances is the Commonwealth, they
were created after the Fall of Earth and it began when the surviving world
leaders decided to colonize as much land as possible against the advice of the
wise Graeys. The Commonwealth invaded many systems at one go once ready,
they brought new technology to the game of interplanetary monopoly. The
Commonwealth colonized many planets such as Minerva, Venture and Sled.
Soon other alien groups didn¶t like this and conflict erupted. The Corvus
Alliance weren¶t quick to fight but instead allowed Venture to break off and
join the Alliance. For this most Humans hate or jeer people from Venture.
The Commonwealth saw Minerva turn as well. Now the Commonwealth have
settled with their winnings and colonize certain planets that don¶t stand a
chance.

We are happy to have given the Commonwealth the finger, now they
jeer us and make us look bad across the known space. The Corvus Alliance
didn¶t back us up in this scrap and that helped reinforce our reputation as a
dependent and ill equipped people. This isn¶t true but what do the rest care?
In the weeks to come the Malicers seem to keep to themselves. They begin to
recon areas but don¶t get too far, the Venture Military are subjected to a huge
re-armament. We say goodbye to the Pilgrim Assault Rifles and say hello to
the Rüstungsindustrie¶s: Sirdar Infanterie Sturmgewehr AKA Sirdar
Infantry Assault Rifle.

The Viscerator was replaced by Baxter Company¶s: Danzigger HMG,

the Far-sight Sniper Rifle was replaced by Rüstungsindustrie¶s: Bowman
Scharfschützengewehr (Bowman sniper rifle). Most of the weaponry is made
by Rüstungsindustrie. I trade in my M-PAR for the new Ocelot Benannten
Schütze Gewehr, German for Ocelot Designated Marksman Rifle. The
Germans make better weapons than the American Pilgrim. The weapons are
apparently better than most of what the Commonwealth has, we have new
equipment, new armour from private companies and ordinance. The Senate
decide to let foreign advisors butcher us; our squads are upgraded and re-
armed. The 66 th Squad gets reinforced, Gant and Twombly join our squad
with a few rookies, Marty goes home and I get put up for a Pur ple Heart and
a couple others, I reject all of them, I don¶t want any damn medals.

After a month of travelling back and forth, I get sent home for a while.
Industrial hasn¶t changed, still with the prohibition, gangs, mercenary cops
and the mobs. Industrial is divided up amongst the Russians, French, German
and Irish. The groups influence can be seen everywhere, the Russsians control
the Russian speaking areas, the French with the French and so on. The Aliens
do business as well, in arms dealing, slavery a nd other businesses; they only
add fuel to the fire. The strong Brutak and battle-ready Valkorani are used as
mercenaries but some groups get adventurous and start their own businesses.
The biggest money is in smuggling and slavery; the Russians own the slavery,
the Irish own the smuggling, the German¶s own the arms dealing and the
French own the mercenary business.

The groups are troubled by infighting and greed as usual. The Irish
groups began hiring Military personnel first and then the Russians followed.
They use their connections to fabricate discharge papers and buy military
weapons that were µlost¶ on route. I sit in the local pub and see 3 mobsters
enter. There is a fat man in a patched blazer and a vest , a tall, skinny guy with
clear blue eyes and a woman dressed in navy overalls, she has grime and dirt
on her overalls but she is clean. I sit at the bar and the blue eyed man sits on
the stool next to me, the fat one sits to my left and the woman stands right
behind me. I can see a holster strap inside the fat guy¶s coat. I look at the tall
one and say µI ain¶t interested...¶ He says in a sly voice µI know, but take this a
gift, after all... You fought for us.¶ The woman laughs and the fat guy stays
quite and serious looking. They get up and leave, I see that he slapped
something on the counter. I look at it and see an envelope with ³Billy Barron´
written on it. I take it quickly and stuff it in my coat.

The fat one says µAtta boy Bill, we aren¶t done yet.¶ He has a strong
accent whereas the tall one was well-spoken and the woman didn¶t say
anything. They left very soon, the barman Éamon said µSee you later
Georgie.¶ The tall one raised his hand to acknowledge him. I talk to Éamon
µFuck me anyway...¶ He pats my shoulder µDon¶t worry µbout it Bill, I have a
brother working for em. Did I ever tell you bout Pat?¶ He never stopped
telling us µYeah Éamon ye did. Question is do you ever stop?¶ He laughed
µLike I tell the family, I¶ll stop whenever I want.¶ He takes a long swig from
his bottle of alcohol; though it is prohibited we can still get a hold of it, if
anything it became easier to when prohibition came in.

I finish up and leave the pub, I enter the lively streets, it is midday and
most people are either eating out or watching sports. I walk up the road to the
first left, to ³Barron¶s Electrics´. My younger brother Mick is sitting on the
steps waiting for me, when he sees me he gives me a hug and says µYou took
your damn time.¶ He is too young to join up. He is the only one so far that
hasn¶t and he is itching for some action. I don¶t discourage him; he¶d make a
good marine. Darcy, the eldest and Finn already have. Darcy is a lieutenant
with the Corsairs and Finn is in Jump Training, she¶s almost a marine. My
other sister is a married woman, she was saved from conscription. Darcy¶s
twin Neilly served in the Armoured Corp until his foot was flattened by a tank
track, after a couple of surgeries paid for by the military, his foot looks
normal again but he sustained major nerve damage, h e can¶t move his toes on
his left foot. Instead he is part of the Reserve Defence Force.

His main job is mechanics and electronics, working alongside mobsters

and innocent patrons alike. My step-father Driscoll MacKay was in the
Mechanized Infantry for most of his life and settled down as a mechanic with
a recently widowed woman. He got me and Neilly our first major jobs, Neilly
became a mechanic and I became a courier. Not a Gutter Runner, I worked
for legitimate customers. Then it changed when I got caught with the
prohibited goods I was running for a friend of Driscoll. I learned that the
mobsters that hit the police convoy were an up and coming crew of Russians
run by the Bohrs. The Bohrs were new to the game but were vicious and
adventurous.

I entered the store, my home. Driscoll is working with some tech and
when he rises from his desk he pulls up his bulky welder¶s mask and says
µBilly, you¶re back?¶ I nod I would¶ve taken the piss out of the old man but he
hadn¶t seen me in 2 years. He was about 72 and was frail and weak from years
of warring against the Commonwealth and pirates. I hug him and he says
µFinally you¶re here! When we heard about Sled...¶ I interrupt him µI am here
now.¶ He looks at me and sees my left hand µWhat happened?¶ I look at my
missing finger and say µDidn¶t need it much anyway.¶ I walk over to the
couch, which hadn¶t changed since I left; I slept on it before I left. He says
µYou¶re limping...¶ I nod µShrapnel I reckon. Doc took it out before I could
know for sure.¶ He gives a sad smile. µIf only Darcy and Finn were here.¶ He
stares at the counter, he snaps out of it and says µNeilly and Zéphérine are
upstairs; go see your daughter Bill.¶

I walk upstairs and meet Neilly outside Zéph¶s room. He hugs me and
whispers µShe is asleep.¶ I whisper back as he lets go of me µHow is business?¶
He smiles µThe usual, crazy Russians and speed-freak smugglers, y¶know the
usual.¶ I nod and he asks µHow long you off?¶ I think µUntil they need me.¶ We
walk downstairs together and he asks µHow was it?¶ He realizes that he
shouldn¶t have asked but I don¶t care µInteresting. We had a 70% casualty
rate, a full Battalion of Marines.¶ I think and add µCould¶ve used a couple
tanks.¶ He and I laugh. We leave soon afterwards and I run into a couple
locals at the shops, they don¶t look at me, they look at the scars and if they
shake my left hand they pretend not to notice, but they do.

In the shops I soon run into my sister, Ann with her kid, my nephew
Eddie. We don¶t have much time to talk though, she and I talk for a bit and
she says she¶ll be at Driscoll¶s shop in the evening. Neilly and I go to a pub and
meet up with my old friend Fisk. He ran with a lot of groups, only 43 an d he
has run with the Germans, Russians, French, Irish and even the ETs. He
served with the Corsairs for a while as well; unlike most ex-military he wasn¶t
wounded or AWOL. He just exploited some weird loophole and was friends
with a Senator. Fisk shook my hand and said in a raspy voice µHow are you
Billy?¶ He notices my missing finger but doesn¶t ignore it. He immediately
asks µAny medals?¶ I laugh µOnly a Heart and a couple of fridge magnets.¶

He says µYou met my nephew Georgie a while back? He¶s a nice kid,
very hungry for some action.¶ I nod and say µWho were his friends?¶ He knew
exactly who. µChrissy and Pa¶ he smirks µInteresting, aren¶t they?¶ I don¶t
answer. Fisk asks how his Grand-Niece Zéph is, her mother was a French
actor called Sasse Manone. Fisk comes to our house, he, Neilly and I talk
about our time in the military and about how I still might go back. Fisk asks
µHow was it Bill?¶ I ask µHow do you think it was? We lost good people and
killed our fair share of good enemies. But fuck it, it do n¶t mean a thing.¶ He
laughs and says µWar never changes.¶

<END>