The Raging Hounds X: Sade Campaign Part 1, Urban Stalkers
#10 of The Raging Hounds
Not so yiffy a chapter this one, but contains still a detailed -if short- daydream so... Anyways, despite the delay, the Hounds are ready, willing and able to continue their adventures! All characters are the property of Rhazagal and not to be used under any circumstances without the author's concent.
Also, apologies for any typos in there. My spell-checker is about as dead as a doornail.
So, without further ado, enjoy!
Quiet chatter filled the dimly lit dome of the spacious command centre as ensigns received, uncoded and relayed the constant flow of information coming from all around their defense network, stacks of paper printouts flooding the floor all around them.
Standing on a raised, railed platform in the very centre of the room was a tall figure -reaching almost seven feet in height- his bulk increased by the massive matt-black power armor that encased his body.
The man's head was bare, his helmet dangling from a clasp on his belt. He was bald and the slight wrinkling around the corners of his eyes gave off the fact he was on the dusk-side of his life already.
His face was grim as he looked at the huge main screen that depicted the tactical situation. Already their meager fleet of half a dozen ships had been routed -three of them left behind, reduced to nothing more than burning wrecks- as the far superior numbers of the blasphemous furs simply overwhelmed the defenses of the humans' safe haven.
The tactical display was lit up with more and more red markers as the furs' armies made planetfall not far away from the colony. There were so many of them...
"Inquisitor Superior Antonius, how does it look?" A female voice called from behind the armored man.
Antonius turned his head slowly, a faint smile curling onto his lips as he saw Inquisitor Helsbane ascending the short flight of stairs onto the top of the platform. Helsbane was young, perhaps in her mid-twenties, with a silky, raven-black hair that she kept just long enough to cover her ears, her form hidden by the bulk of the matt-black power armor; identical in design to that of Antonius.
"Inquisitor Helsbane, such a pleasure to see you had the time to come here. The situation looks grim, I'm afraid... The heathens outnumber us at least twenty to one and, it would appear, our evacuation routes have been cut off already." Antonius held a small pause before continuing, his eyes glancing in the direction of the display screen once more before settling back on the junior Inquisitor.
"I'm afraid this will be the last stand of our little colony... I did send a plead for aid to the New Terra, but I don't think they'll be sending any help. The location of our new home must stay a secret. Have you seen to the mobilization of our bretheren like I asked you to?"
Helsbane was clearly shocked by the news. Never before had she seen Antonius in such a fatalistic mood... Things truly had to be grim "I...Yes, Inquisitor Superior. The Zealots and Crusaders have already been deployed along with the citizen militia and the marines to hold the New Hope Gorge, which is the only viable entrance to the actual colony. I did take the right to hold our elite Templar Bretheren in reserve, just in case."
Antonius nodded "A sound plan. The Templar Bretheren are few in numbers, but they will do well in rooting out any abominable forces that might find a rathole through which to crawl into our fair city."
"The crater's walls are unclimbable and the colony is protected from aerial raids by a force field. Still, a precaution is better to have than just hope... Even more so since the latter seems to be in such a short supply." Helsbane replied, giving the senior Inquisitor a polite bow before turning around and marching away.
She was one of the three Inquisitors the colony had... Antonius was needed in the command centre, Rodigus was with the Templar Bretheren and so it fell upon her shoulders to fight in the front lines. By the God, she swore she'd take as many of the abominations with her as she possibly could...
The Saint's Rapier shuddered and rocked as Master Sergeant Rowalski and his crew drove the ship through the atmosphere of Sade I. The marines inside the bay were silent for the most part, focusing either on the mission at hand, or then just trying hard to think of anything but the fact they were like sitting ducks inside the armored hull of the gunship.
Strapped into their seats, the Hounds could only wait until Rowalski had gotten them onto deployment altitude.
Martin was praying quietly next to Vincent. Jim had his eyes closed, a faint smile on the dalmatian's muzzle, looking as calm as he could, but Vincent could see the tension in the dog's neck which hinted at him being more than just a little nervous.
Vincent looked directly across of himself, getting a faint shadow of a smile from the big wolf seated there. Despite the uneasy tension he felt, Vincent had to turn away from Dan before the blush on his face would become too obvious to the sergeant.
"Deployment in five, boys! One final checkup on the gear and forward confirmations through your squad-leaders. Make sure the IGCs work and the rebreathers are fresh and operational. I don't want any mishaps on the way down. Do you get me?" Schaefer barked and the Hounds gave their reply in perfect, harmonious unison.
Vincent checked up the dark cylindrical cartridge strapped onto the underside of his pistol -a sturdy, large-calibre projectile-based pistol- as well as the shoulder stock that had been attached to the gun for added support and precision when he fired the Impact Gel Cushion. Quickly -like he was trained to during Boot- he also checked that his rebreather worked. All in order, everything safely and securely strapped... Now it was time to wait some more.
As Schaefer announced it was three minutes until drop-off, Ghost opened the side hatch and jumped out, the hatch sliding shut automatically after the armored Shade was outside.
As soon as Ghost was out, the air in the passenger compartment of the gunship seemed to lighten up just a little. Some of the Hounds still felt a sore sting as they remembered how easily the Shade operative had kicked their asses in the gym.
Vincent let out a grunt. He had the uneasy, icy feeling of fear in his gut, the thought that at any moment now the enemy's anti-air batteries might score a hit on The Saint's Rapier and they'd all plummet down into their deaths.
Sam, sensing Vincent's unease, gave the hyena's knee a soft squeeze which he followed up with another reassurring smile.
Vincent smiled back, feebly, placing his own paw on top of the Doberman's to show he appreciated the gesture.
"Just hang in there, buddy. This ain't half as bad as on Katsouga five when the corrosive layer of acidic clouds almost ate through the Rapier's hull! This is a walk in a park compared to that." Sam shouted over the growing noise of the engines, elicting raucous cries of approval and laughter from those Hounds that were within earshot.
Nodding feebly, Vincent closed his eyes and leaned back, his mind feverishly grasping onto something, anything, else to think than the constant sinking feeling inside him that any moment now he could be turned into a blazing fireball by a single well-placed shot.
Vincent did find something else to think of. Out of the blue, as if subconsciously summoned by his desperate mind, the memory of the night he had shared with Dan jumped up.
The hyena thought he could still feel -like the ghost of physical stimulation- Dan's warm muzzle wrapped up around his dick, the wolf's tongue rubbing smoothly at the underside of his cock. He could also clearly recall how his own muzzle had been draped around the big wolf's member, the taste and shape of it as he'd slid his muzzle slowly back and forth along the warm, rigid length of pulsing canine dick...
The memory soothed him, but a hard rap to the side of his helmet snapped him out of his pleasant little daydream.
"Wake up, dreamer. Drop off in thirty secs, so get ready!" Sam shouted, pushing up the harness that had been unlocked by Schaefer's command.
The Hounds lined themselves up by the back ramp, the red light next to it turning green as the hatch opened, revealing underneath it a swiftly speeding landscape of rock that was almost blood-red in hue and filled with jagged columns and snaking craters.
In pairs the Hounds leapt out with brief intervals, the line shortening rapidly until it was vincent's turn to jump. From below he could see some scattered, lazy anti-air firing coming into their general direction, but the majority of the firing was still aimed towards the southern edge of the crater where the majority of the fighting was going on.
It was already his second time and it still didn't feel any easier...
Swallowing hard Vincent tensed his legs and jumped, clamping his legs together and his arms along his body to achieve terminal velocity as soon as possible. The wind rushed by his head, the sound of artillery far away coming in as dull crumps.
As the buzz from his helmet informed him that it was time to deploy the Impact Gel Cushion, Vincent drew out his sidearm, braced the stock against his shoulder and fired straight down, the cushion shooting out and spiralling down onto the rock not far below.
A sudden scream filled the channel, the kind which comes from someone when they realize they're scant heartbeats away from death, as someone's -Vincent couldn't tell whose- Cushion failed to deploy.
The scream lasted only for a second or two before it was cut off, the doomed Hound's radio cut off by Schaefer to spare the others. Still, Vincent felt a pang of sorrow tightening a knot inside his stomach. That someone had been precious to some other Hounds... a friend, a brother-in-arms and quite likely a lover...
Shaking his head Vincent focused onto the task at hand, his heart almost skipping a beat as he remembered he had to turn around or he'd end up landing upside down into the Cushion. It still felt weird to land into the gelatinous inertia-damper gel-blob, the moment of absolute stillness followed by freedom seconds later.
With adrenaline still spiked high in his system, Vincent assessed the situation and then darted to cover, pinging his radio twice to indicate he was safely down.
Schaefer's voice came loud and clear through the earpiece of Vincent's com-set a moment later "Fletcher, take the second squad. First squad with me, Deadeye's team to the point with Longfang right at their heels."
The Colonel was using their nicknames for the simple reason that everyone knew them and they baffled the enemy.
The Hounds had divided into six five-fur squads led by one of the officers and his three-strong command squad. Rey had been assigned to Schaefer's group, whilst Hicks went with Fletcher.
Vincent was still part of sergeant Dan's unit, along with Jim, Martin and and Sam. Up ahead Vincent could see Jerry -the dingo everyone called Deadeye- leading Jake, Roy -also a dingo and, currently, the only straight guy in the unit- as well as Frost and John.
Swiftly and unopposed the Hounds moved towards their target. Tense, eyes scanning every nook, cranny and crevice for hidden enemies they soon reached the edge of the crater.
Vincent almost pulled the trigger of his flamer when he saw a group of some fifty Marines draped in camo-cloaks rising out from amidst the rocks, feeling relieved as he saw they were clearly furs like himself.
A big Malamute -his neck thick and frame muscular- approached Schaefer and saluted with a sharp nod "Captain Dhamon, Sarcosta eighth Hell Divers at your service, Sir. Ready to raise hell?"
"Colonel Schaefer, twelfth Marine Company. We're indeed ready to do the job."
Captain Dhamon flashed a grin as he assessed the Hounds. The only one who seemed to impress the captain was Dan, since the others seemed like twigs compared to his own men. Then again, they probably hadn't lived their lives on planets with gravity almost twice normal...
"My men have already scouted a couple of good paths down the crater wall while we were waiting for you to show up. Me and my men will take the western path and you can go down the east one." Dhamon said as he pointed out the routes on his portable, wrist-mounted computer (identical in design to that of Schaefer's).
Schaefer forced himself to stiffle a growl. He didn't like the tone of the captain one bit. The way he subtly raised himself and his men onto a pedestal, clearly looking down at the gruff and somewhat rag-tag Hounds... It irritated the Colonel. The Hounds' reputation probably didn't help much either.
Even if he was angry inside, on the outside he looked every bit as calm as possible as he downloaded the route to his own computer and nodded the Captain away. Once down, they'd regroup at the edge of the city and work their way inside from there, causing as much mayhem as possible.
Cursing under his breath Vincent fought his way down the steep side of the crater, panting heavily under the weight of his flamer. If only that had been the only problem he had... His mouth felt dry and there was an icy cold sensation of mixed anxiety and fear in the pit of his stomach.
Any moment now a hidden sniper could put a bullet between his eyes. Any moment now they might be met with a fusillade of fire whilst they descended the nigh-coverless cliffside. He couldn't understand how everyone around him looked so calm and focused whilst he was filled with anxiety and fear. Had they really grown numb to war?
Unopposed, however, the Raging Hounds scaled the crater wall down to the bottom where the terrain changed from sheer rock to some form of plastic/metal alloy. A quick spurt and the Federate Marines were huddling in the shadow of a tall building, unable to believe things were progressing this smoothly...
Using hand-singnals, Schaefer relayed his orders; advance towards the center of the city in designated squads. First half of the company again with Schaefer, the other with Fletcher.
A little further away captain Dhamon and his men, too, slipped into the city. The hunt was on!
Suddenly Schaefer's portable computer gave a buzz and Schaefer ordered everyone into a halt; a message. With a few keystrokes the Colonel uncrypted the message, his eyes darting like quicksilver along the lines. Around him the Hounds waited impatiently.
Schaefer raised his hands above his head, fist held in the palm of his other paw, followed by a circular motion above his head with one arm, the signal for all leaders -including "squaddies" or squad leaders- to gather up.
With the leaders assembled in the shadow of a tall office building, Schaefer -looking grimmer than before- dropped the newsbomb.
"I just got a message from the High-Command... Our mission just changed. Instead of wrecking as much havoc as we can, we must take out the generator that supplies power to the shield above our heads... Without a doubt the place is heavily guarded." Schaefer held a small pause, looking each of the leaders into the eyes as if to emphasize the gravity of the situation "According to our intelligence the generator is on the Southern portion of the colony, taking the shape of a cube with some sort of a spire or dish on top of it... Possibly walls too, so we might have to go in with a bang. Relay the new orders to all squads and proceed accordingly. Silence is even more vital than before, so no shooting unless it's absolutely a must. Dismissed."
The squaddies merely nodded, scattering then like shadows to relay the instructions to their underlings.
Moments later the marines slipped from shadow to shadow along the empty streets. All the civilians seemed to have taken shelter in one place or another, as all the buildings around them were completely void of light and activity. Even the streetsigns were powered down. It was as if the colony had suddenly turned into a ghost town...
Cursing inwardly, Schaefer darted from behind an abandoned truck-vehicle across an empty street and into the shadow of a large office-like building. He had the sinking feeling that he and his pack had just been conscripted to be part of a suicidal mission with ver little -if any- hope of survival.
Sure, they might have a perfect mission-record so far, but storming what was probably the most well-defended location in a colony ready and able to fight, with soldiers who knew they were going to die and just wanted to take as many with them as possible? Madness... Still, one way or another, Schaefer swore that he'd get them out of there even if he'd have to personally carry every last one of them.
Schaefer took a glance around the shadow-like figures moving all around him in orderly fashion, paying special note to the sharp-eyed dingo sniper Jerry White.
The dingo was definitely putting up a grim, determined face, but Schaefer could see right through the canine's facade. He knew the one Hound -Christopher "Buzzaw" Zimmerman- who had plummeted to his death had been quite close to the sniper, especially on Hounds' standards.
Someone would have to talk to the dingo before something bad might happen... It was either Schaefer or Martin, and Schaefer decided that it would be him. Still, for now, they had to push on deeper into the human city-colony. The rumble of gunfire and artillery was coming in only as quiet, distant rumble, reminding Schaefer of the events that had crippled his regiment, turning it into a mere underpowered company instead.
Still, it was the best damn company he could ever hope for...
Antonius' jawline twitched faintly as he took in the latest surveillance info. Some of the cameras placed all around the city were showing feedback of non-human entities slipping through their streets, the tactical display telling their speed and direction.
It didn't take a genius to figure out that the intruders were heading for the generator complex, obviously intent on crippling the shield which, so far, was keeping the enemy artillery from touching their city.
Antonius smiled mirthlessly. How naive Helsbane had been to think the walls of the crater were unclimbable. True, they might be hard for a human to scale, but these... things, seemed to be a lot better in it.
The elder Inquisitor couldn't help but feel a meager respect towards the intruders; abominations or not, they were gifted and skilled for sure.
"Captain Bavor..." Antonius spoke softly, causing an officer standing in the middle of the room to turn around and salute "Inform Inquisitor Rodigus to mobilise a squad of Templar Bretheren in defense of the shield generator. Our city is breached by a commando group and they MUST be stopped."
The captain bowed his head in respect, replying "Yes, my lord." before turning around to bark orders at the ensigns and other staff present.
Antonius mustered up the power for another humorless smile. He was a good man, that captain. Young and enthusiastic... It was such a shame that the captain's career would be so short. If only, if only, they had the fleets of the Crusades to aid them, but alas no, it wasn't going to happen. The star of mankind was dying, but Antonius swore he'd uphold the goodness and tradition of Man for as long as he drew breath.
The shield generator complex loomed in the distance, across a perfectly open, coverless field of pavement. The complex itself -an ugly gray cube with a massive mast-antenna on top of it, surrounded by walls with guard towers sprinkled at steady interwals crowning it, the towers' searchlights scouring the area for unwanted elements.
Schaefer lowered his binoculars, withdrawing behind the corner of the building he was using for cover. Nearby, hidden amidst a fairly large garden, the Hounds waited for Schaefer to come up with orders.
Apparently captain Dhamon, too, had gotten the order to assault the complex, as Schaefer had received a communication from the leader of the other group, actually asking what was Schaefer's plan on getting across the killing-field.
All too vividly, Schaefer was reminded of the nightmare he kept seeing of his Hounds being blasted apart time and again on a coverless, open field.
"There's no real way to get across that kill-zone undetected... We'd be torn to pieces before we made it halfway there." Schaefer mumbled to himself, his brow wrinkled in deep frown as he racked his brain for something, anything he could do.
He could post all his snipers in good spots and have them shoot out some of the guards, but that would alert the entire complex. He didn't have many heavy weapons with him, and what he had was meant for short-range firefights.
Schaefer felt like he could scream and shout in frustration. He'd have to try to fullfil his orders, but he couldn't find any way to do it without risking losing most or all his boys, nor did he feel like trying out just how good was the marksmanship of the guards in the towers.
Schaefer's earpiece crackled, capturing the German Shepherd's attention. Captain Dhamon, on a foul mood judging by the bitterness of his tone, spoke quietly "Got a plan, Colonel? You're the highest-ranking officer in the field here so, according to standard protocol A-01, sub-section b, you've got the responsibility on deciding the course of action."
The sly little bastard son-of-a-mutt! Schaefer fumed inwardly, knowing that the captain was right, but all the same the cocky bastard would be safe if this mission went south, whilst Schaefer would have to endure all the heat.
Schaefer weighed his words carefully before replying, his paw balled into a fist so tight it made his entire arm tremble "Hold, observe and wait for further instructions."
"Acknowledged. I just hope you will come up with something soon, Colonel. The longer we stay put, the higher the chance the enemy will spot us." Dhamon replied, terminating the line right after.
Sneaking back into his observation point, Schaefer lifted the binoculars to his eyes once more, scanning the walls intently for any sign of weakness.
"By Machala I need a miracle to pull this one off..." The dog mumbled to himself. Sudden commotion on the tower nearest to the Hounds' location caught Schaefer's eye. Of the two guards stationed into the tower, one was visible, looking like he was inspecting the searchlight, whilst the other guard was nowhere to be seen.
Scrolling the magnification reel to the limit, Schaefer got a close-up of the tower, a faint smile curling onto the corner of his muzzle. The guard who was "inspecting" the searchlight had, actually, had his throat sliced open, the human's blood dripping slowly down the side of the large lamp.
Fletcher, who was stationed with his back against the truck right next to Schaefer, spotted the little smile on the Colonel's face, the Great Dane's ears perking up sharply.
"What is it, Sir? Good news?"
"Not just good news... I think we got our little miracle, lieutenant. Gather up, we're going to make a run for it ASAP." Schaefer said, stashing away the binoculars and keying open a link to captain Dhamon, whilst Fletcher scurried off to notify the squaddies "Schaefer to Dhamon... On my command, we charge!"
"I hope you know what you're doing, Colonel. On your command we charge. Dhamon out."
Schaefer's eyes narrowed in intense concentration. This was it, their golden chance to bust open the tough shell of the human resistance!
Silent as a passing shadow, Ghost slipped over the edge of the shield generator's outer wall, landing onto the battlements like his name suggested.
Ghost took a glance at the readings on the Heads-Up Display of his helmet, taking note especially of the remaining energy in his cloaking device. He had still about thirty seconds left before he'd have to let it recharge... Plenty enough for him. The thousands of little projectors embedded into his armor caused the light that hit him to bend and reflect about him, leaving him nothing but a blurry, transparent silhouette for a couple of minutes at a time. Even with the energy reserves of his armor, the cloaker consumed so much power, that it was unwise to keep it active for extended periods of time.
Quiet like an owl swooping down to catch the unwary prey, Ghost -a mono-filament edged knife in paw- slipped towards the guard tower nearest to him, his footsteps giving off next to no sound at all despite the rapid speed at which he was moving.
He caught one of the two black-clad human soldiers completely unaware, clamping one of his paws onto the woman's mouth whilst sticking the knife easily through her flak jacket and right into her lung, killing her without a sound.
The other guard heard the woman dropping to the ground and turned around, only to see the black figure of de-cloaking Ghost closing in on him, the man's throat slit before he could as much as raise his gun.
Ghost checked around himself for any signs of anyone having seen him, a dry smile passing over his lips as he noted that his cover wasn't yet blown.
Sheating his knife, Ghost drew out a compact, silenced sub machine gun and his ever-trusty vibro-Katana. Bursting into a run, the rodent dashed towards the next guard tower.
This time he was spotted a little sooner than before, though the human didn't have time to shout before a snap-shot from Ghost's SMG blew his head apart in a shower of gore.
The other guard turned around and raised his gun, ready to fire, but with a quick downward slice Ghost cleaved the gun in two. With a lightning-fast move the Shade Operative reversed the direction of the blade, slicing it across the soldier's face. A second later the two halves slid neatly apart.
That took care of the guards on this side of the complex. Now he just needed a distraction, and he had the perfect one in mind...
Vincent panted as he struggled to keep up witht he rest of the unit, the heavy bulk of his flamer taking it's toll on him, pulling him down like an anchor. His lungs were burning and his legs ached, but still he kept heaving one foot before the other one as fast as he could, not wanting to fall behind.
The Colonel had ordered them to advance to the wall nearest to them and blow it up with explosives; a sound plan, although they had no idea just how thick, exactly, the walls were. The wall was still some hundred and fifty yards away, when a sudden explosion at the gates reverbrated through the ground.
With wide-open eyes, the Hounds watched as the massive steel doors blew off of their hinges and fell down, opening a clear way for the Hounds and captain Dhamon's men to enter.
"Through the parade doors, boys! I don't know what happened, but I am not about to question it either!" Vincent heard Schaefer shout through the com-net.
The Hounds burst through the smoke and dust floating around the gate and into the courtyard. to their amazement, they saw all the defensive barricades and positions were littered with corpses. Someone had beat them there and the Hounds had a good guess at who or what it could possibly be.
"What the hell is going on here? First the guard towers are unmanned, then the gates blow open and now THIS?" captain Dhamon demanded, frowning deeply at the wanton carnage around him.
"This...Captain, is our little miracle." Schaefer replied, moving on and leaving the Malamute even more perplexed than before.
Suddenly, there was a serie of loud clanks as the firing slits on the side of the complex opened up and a hail of gunfire peppered the courtyard. Three of Dhamon's men fell under the merciless onslaught, and John took a direct hit to the shoulder as he was diving for cover.
Vincent jumped behind a slab of concrete, sliding a couple of feet along the ground before hitting the slab back-first. The familiar fear of death gripped at his insides once more, sapping away the strength from his limbs. The sound of bullets pinging off of the concrete slab, accompanied by the screams of the wounded, made Vincent tremble, his heart pounding like a mad jackhammer in his chest, threatening to burst through his chest.
"We have to get to the door of the complex! Longfang, covering fire! Give 'em hell!" Schaefer barked across the com-net.
The big sergeant gave Vicent's leg a reassurring pat "It's going to be okay, Vinnie... Now let me show you how it's done!"
Dan racked his gatling gun audibly, a feral snarl ripping from his lips before he stood up and squeezed the trigger, the gun emiting a rising wail as the barrels started to spin more and more rapidly until, with a roar, the cannon started to spit death at the speed of six thousand rounds a minute.
vincent watched in awe as Dan fired the gun from the hip, the wolf twisting his upper body to spray the front of the building. All around him, the bullets were whizzing by, missing the large brute by scant inches even though he stood right there, the wolf's face a fierce, distorted mask of hate and rage.
The blanket of fire coming from the firing slits subsided as the human soldiers took cover, allowing Schaefer to make his next move.
"Rose! I want a plasma charge on that door and I want it thirty seconds ago! Move, move, move!" The German Shepherd barked his orders without hesitation.
Rose sprung into action, leaping over the sandbags with a black, flat, cone-shaped lump clutched in his paws. The few scattered, disorganized shots coming his way missed, kicking up tiny plumes of dust and chipped rock.
With a leap, followed by not-so-graceful rolling and tumbling, Rose slammed against the door. Panting heavily, the timberwolf slapped the cone into the middle of the steel door and hit the activation button. Leaping once more, Rose landed flat onto his stomach with his arms protecting his neck.
A couple of heartbeats later the plasma charge went off with a blinding flash and a thunderclap-like boom that shook the ground, forcing the Hounds to avert their gaze.
Schaefer's voice, strong and commanding as ever, ordered the Hounds into battle once more "Raikov to the point, flush those bastards with fire! Everyone else follows, standard formation and on the double!"
Vincent heaved himself up, aided by Dan, who was just running out of ammo. Now that Vincent was able to get a proper look at the brutish wolf, he saw Dan's fur was matted with fresh blood from dozens of small cuts, the canine's greaves, helmet, arm guards and breastplate badly dented and chipped all around.
Dan silenced Vincent before the hyena had a chance to express his concern "They're just minor cuts. I'll have either Rey or David patch me up as soon as possible, but we have to get a move on, so hustle up, corporal."
Dumbstruck at the wolf's resilience, Vincent stood for a moment in total awe until a stray bullet ricochetted off of the side of his helmet, leaving the hyena feeling like someone had hit his helmet with a hammer.
Snarling, Vincent spun around and broke into a run, dashing towards the doorway as fast as he could in spite of the bulk of his gear. He had barely gotten over the slab of concrete and fifty yards down the courtyard when he heard the unmistakeable sounds of multiple missile launchers firing as one somewhere above.
In shock, the hyena turned to look up, only to see the white streams of rockets soaring past above him. A heartbeat later the rockets detonated, the force of which knocked Vincent prone on the ground. Even if his head was spinning, he could still see Dan tossing Jim and the Colonel out of the cover, before the crumbling gateway rained down on the sergeant in a landslide of jagged boulders.
Vincent's mouth was open in a mute scream of pain and anger. There had to be tons of rubble falling down on Dan... Nothing short of a tank could survive that. With the dust settling, Vincent could see the odd few parts of mostly buried bodies; a hand here, upper body there and blood everywhere. Most of the Hounds, however, seemed to have made it out, luckily.
Vincent tried to rush to the pile of rubble, to dig up Dan with his bare paws if he had to. His attempt was cut short by Sam and Hicks clotheslining him to the chest and taking him down.
"He's dead, Vincent! We have to move!" Sam snarled.
Vincent was about to argue, to punch them both or even rip them to shreds, he didn't care, until he saw the snarl on Sam's face was caused by the Doberman trying to hold his emotions in check... and not succeeding too well.
"He's...He's gone, Vincent... We have to move on!" Sam repeated in a broken voice.
As the Hounds and captain Dhamon's men were gathering their wits, a crackle in the courtyard speakers caught everyone's attention.
"Surrender, infidels! I admire your achievments so far, but surely even you understand when a cause is lost? Look onto the walls around you, we've got you surrounded and your escape route is blocked off!" A stern male voice called over the radio.
Schaefer let out a curse as he saw the horde of humans in black combat armor taking aim at them from the walls around them, as well as the rooftop. His men were out in the open, the enemy had the high ground AND a clear field of fire. Schaefer racked his brain, trying to come up with a solution and finding only one, unpleasant as it may be...
With an expression colder than a glacier, Schaefer tossed his plasma pistol and the vibro sword onto the ground, placing then his hands behind his head. Mesmerized, the Marines couldn't believe their eyes at first, all of them either standing, kneeling or lying there, thunderstruck by their leader's decision.
"Get a move on you mutts! Do you want to die here and now, in this filthy ambush?" Schaefer growled under his breath.
Defeated, the Hounds -one after another- tossed their guns to the ground and placed their hands behind their necks. Vincent cut off the straps to his fuel tank with a knife, letting the flamer hit the ground with a dull thunk, his knife and pistol following suit.
He just couldn't believe they were actually giving up. That Schaefer would just... quit.
Fletcher, fuming with rage, had to expend every minuscule ounce of will he had to prevent himself from strangling Schaefer then and there.
"Sir... What the hell are you planning? You know damn well they'll just end up torturing us to death at their leisure!" Fletcher snarled into Schaefer's ear.
"Calm down, Brad. I've got a trump card they'll never see coming." Schaefer whispered quietly, the dog's eyes narrowing at the sight of half-dozen men in gleaming bluish-silver power armor marching out onto the courtyard.
All the armored figures bore massive greatswords at their backs, heavy-calibre assault rifles in their hands and white tabards with highly detailed crosses on them covering their armor.
The armored human elite herded the Marines inside in two lines. Still, Schaefer wasn't worried. Not only had they gained an entrance into the building, but Ghost was still sneaking around. They had a fighting chance.
Universe, some say, has got a funny understanding of timing, as it chose this to be the moment when Schaefer's blood seemed to freeze in his veins.
In the middle of the generator complex's lobby, bound by shackles held by two more armored Templar Bretheren, Ghost was kneeling, the Shade's helmet a dented wreck on the floor not far away. Ghost's head was hanging limply down, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth...
Uh oh... The Hounds sure are in a pickle now! Dan is gone, the Hounds are captured and so is Ghost. Will they somehow, miraculously, pull through this one, or are they condemned to a slow and painful death in the hands of Inquisitor Rodigus?
Stay tuned for the next thrilling, blood-chilling adventure of everyone's favorite queer Marines!