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Imported post - Written by Char
Ten long years of war; Built up to a climax of but a few hours to decide the fate of a world and a people. For ten long years the armies of a world now fragmented and shattered into Apocolypse converge onto the heart of Babel itself.
Millions of soldiers from almost every nation in the world lay carrion upon endless fields; Their homes now little more than ash as their comrades pick them clean and push towards the only goal they have left. Less than a million of them march uncontested into the outskirts of a city ablaze. The final funeral pyre for a pointless war that claimed the lives of
*billions.*
Winning near every battle but now facing the loss of the war itself the Babel Armed Military Forces; BAMF, fight desperately the first days to deliver shock and awe as the millions who call the city home flock and funnel into the great tower with salvation at its peak.
After days the great military of Babel, once strong enough with its technology and unwavering guile gives ground to overwhelming odds and reckless abandon as mindless and soul-broken enemies throw themselves at the defenders.
And now, in the final hours before the departure of the very last ship once meant to ferry all of mankind into the future, the frenzy enters its final stage, and a million mindbroken lunatics push towards the heart of the city, to what ends unknown.
Across the great city of Babel, BAMF forces fight tooth and nail to give every last civilian and employee of the Conglomerate as much time as they can to flee towards the tower. Not many make it as breakthroughs and artillery savage the rout, but they stand their ground of give only inches when their enemies demand miles.
In the final hours, as day turns to night, and a city alight with the fires of destruction illuminate it once more a group of survivors flee towards salvation. Their origins all different and their paths never crossed they now share one common goal; Survival.
A mere kilometer from the tower; Impossibly close as it is, even now the fittest of them gives in to fatigue and the group manages to take shelter inside a stairwell leading down into the now collapsed metro tunnels. A soldier; Just one scout leading a group of civilians and soldiers alike, ushers them down and out of sight as he alone stays near the top.
Despite the sounds of a city at war, the stairwell offers a buffer of peace broken only when the first of the group finally catches its breath.
"Repack your mags while you can."
A BAMF soldier states nonplussed despite the hollow look in his eyes to those armed. With shaking hands he pulled a handful of bullet casings from a dump pouch and after flicking away the empty casings that fell in began loading the few meager rounds he had left into an empty magazine.
Another remarked, shrugging off a pack and dumping magazines of ammunition, already loaded, onto the ground while BAMF marines and armed civilians with looted weapons began scooping up magazines. "Didn't have time to unload them before now!" He finished defensively as one of the civilians gave him an accusing look.
"Does anyone have any water?" A woman asked hoarsely, changing the topic. One by one questions, demands, and remarks spewed out of the group as the building tension of the past weeks, months, even years vented itself around that very moment.
An older woman, not yet elderly but going on in years took advantage of a moment of forced silence as an explosion somewhere too close for comfort silenced the group momentarily.
"My name is Callista" She stated, breaking the silence. Many giving her odd looks. "I used to clean this very stop not too long ago. Lady knows these old bones of mine sure could use that tram right about now!"
She laughed at her last remark, kicking out her feet and turning them left and right to stretch them as at least a couple in the group gave a restrained chuckle.
"Your turn." She nodded at a soldier in BAMF fatigues, much to his dismay.
"G'day, Callista, ma'am." He stuttered out before gaining his confidence. "Names Horus, with 44th, I was pit crew for one of the Griffins; The gunships, ye see. At least I was before our terminal got glassed the other day!" He ended with a growl before nodding to the next person, eager to shed the spotlight.
=================
"Caelus Kaur," said the young, white-haired man in what would have been a nice suit if it hadn't been dragged through hell and back. The wear and tear didn't seem to diminish his mood or business-like charm.
"I work - worked? - in weapons development," he continued. "A lot of the ordinance you see getting fired or lobbed at the enemies came through my department. Before everyone gets all excited, I'm not the engineer type. I could
*sell*
you just about everything you'd want in a situation like this, but that doesn't do much good when there's nothing left to sell."
Positioning himself as a salesman didn't really do justice to what he'd been involved in before, but he didn't really feel like getting into the details. It would do for now.
He opened up one side of his coat, revealing a pistol tucked inside of a concealed holster. "I'm not much of a fighter - nothing like you lot," he motioned to Horus as he let his suit coat fall closed, "but I know how to use the pistol beyond, 'Point at enemy and pull trigger'. I'm eager to get out of this alive, as we all are, so you can count on me should things go any more sideways than they already have."
"Pleasure to meet you all," he finally said, flashing them a smile.
---
Listening to the group make introductions, reminded the pale skinned young soldier of simpler times. "I am Alphaeus Nasica, A contractor assigned to the BAMF 1st recon, few years back we got hired on to do scouting details for main elements of the BAMF in our sector." he sighed, re packing his ammunition, keeping his DMR close, before field stripping his sidearm, cleaning it quickly, only packing the few magazines he had left. his gloved hand gripped the rifle again chuckling to himself, mostly out of disbelief." So this is the end of the world? I guess the rules of engagement change?" pulling a paper map from his bag, Alphaeus turned the headlamp he had on his hard-suit on, illuminating the topographical map. pointing to a street within the Shattered city, his finger slid several blocks down the paper. finding its mark on a new grid square." If we keep moving down the main road, we wont last long. We need to continue through the alleyway here to the left. If.... and I do mean IF we are lucky....the warbands haven't reached the inner city. if they have....well for you civilians. save a bullet for yourselves.
---
Čehrāzād had only hours ago been evacuated from her home within the deep chasms and canyons of her native city of Qadesh. It had been one of the last sieges to succeed and one of the last to fall as madness descended and all reason amongst the rest of the world had become forgotten. The city had been carved into the very rock of one of the great chasm walls. Well and above the roaring sandstorms that would whip through scouring the ground below clean and pristine time and time again. As the war between the world powers raged and came to their shores, those leaders within her community had begun to lay civil defense supplies. Stockpiles of food, water, and medicines. Policies for entering the place had become more stringent as time wore on due to the sensitivity of the work and citizenry within the confines of the underground metropolis.
Research in the fields of medicine, electronics, and software, and sources of energy for their potential use therein. It had also been a place for manufacturing high-tech components for a variety of purposes both civilian and military.
While all were essentially employed within the Conglomerate, many would sometimes flock to Qadesh for the opportunity to attend the schools, primarily its colleges and universities because of her home's specializations within the research and manufacturing community. At its fall, many had evacuated, those that did not have either remained behind out of their own choices or simply had been unable to reach transport in time.
And now here she was. Having been hunted and attacked along with this ragtag mix of BAMF security forces as they tried desperately to reach safety and the remaining colony ship in orbit. She had watched those very same laboratories she'd spent her time in burn along with the manufacturing facilities. They couldn't leave anything of sensitive nature behind for fear of what could've been done with it as was policy. Two copies had been made before they had detonated thermal charges amongst the copious databanks. One she carried, another had been sent skyward toward their waiting salvation. However much had been uploaded she couldn't say for certain so she had made this hard copy kept close to her chest and beneath her attire to keep hidden.
As the businessman and scout introducing themselves after a few brief chuckles had been shared at the old woman's introduction and remark she to allowed herself a brief if small smile. Replying she'd sometimes come this way before the war had begun when she'd been naught but a kid. And for the older woman's benefit, added she'd found her stop well maintained. Even agreeing that a tram would be lovely right then and there. If not to make their escape easier, just to rest sore muscles and feet and let the thing do the work.
Yet the silver-blonde-haired woman narrowed her eyes in utter disapproval at the 'scout' and his final remarks. Instinctively her copper-skinned arm seemed to tighten slightly on the child clutched before her. A stark contrast to the one holding her. Where this adult was coppery of tone with her hair and startling sapphire blue eyes and definite Qadeshi build and facial structure placed her in that subtle category of what constituted as comely or better amongst them. The one clutched protectively to her was pale in comparison, alabaster where she was copper, strawberry blonde where the other had been silver with a lighter blue shade to their eyes. A child of no more than the eight to ten age bracket. Both the child and coltish adolescent standing close by with a firm scowl in place. Sharing much in common with the girl to the point it was apparent they were siblings was lighter of hair, darker of the eye with a peach tone against the pale skin.
All three looked dirty and sweaty. Rock dust from the ceiling of the underground city of Qadesh had showered it thanks to the repeated shelling against the unyielding reinforcements they'd had in place to ensure it had not collapsed. Yet they all wore clothing suited for the journey and they had packed light enough to not be encumbered badly. Seemed the adult had planned for the occasion since she'd also carried one of the military sidearms usually used by BAMF forces. The thing had seen use, the still silent woman hadn't been shy when she'd had to rise in defense of their party regardless of the fact normally her people were mostly coming off as pacifistic in their dealings. Slow to anger, and even slower to forgive if pushed to that point. But she had proven fierce enough thus far in her dealings to show some capability. Pulling forth the sidearm, she ejected the magazine, whispering to the child and showing her what to find amongst the clatter and mess of full mags.
"I am Čehrāzād, however, I would see it as a kindness if you merely referred to me as Sherry if you are unfamiliar with my tongue." it wasn't said unkindly but an offer of an alternative as this ethnic group sometimes fell back on lengthy, complicated and sometimes overinflated or overly spiritual names. And often seemed bemused that sometimes those outside had difficulty emulating the lilting quality or accent correctly. Dipping her head, she continued.
"I am a researcher. A scientist for the BTS." leaving it there as if it were readily apparent just what this meant. "The two with me are Anaïs," gesturing to the young tyke rifling through what munitions were on offer with a determined if slightly fearful glint to her eyes. The recent events had been hard on everyone, and it seemed to have been showing in various ways. Sherry then tossed her head, using it to gesture to the older, and taller of the two children who now seemed to be taking a drink from a bottle with the Conglomerate logo on it. "And this is Margot. My younger sisters."
Whether this was true or not, the Qadeshi were known to sometimes blend the DNA of multiple partners and carry the resulting 'customized' mixture to term thus making it difficult to tell from where one began and ended when it came to family.
"Our father was a captain, a part of the Fourteenth BAMF Security Cavalry Regiment the 'Copperheads', Second Division. We were at Versailles when it came under attack by the enemy. Crazed as they were. Little better than hayawan. Animals. I saw the flicker of fear and sadness in his eyes as he left to join his troops in its defense. But I knew that if he could stand my mother," a somewhat smug expression marring her otherwise passive countenance that this was some great feat he'd accomplished. "He could handle them. And he proved that point. Many survived not only because of him. But also those under him and those beside him." it earned her a little nod amongst a few and even a slight twitch of the lips that despite the loss they'd done damage and had held the line for long enough that the cityfolk had mostly evacuated.
"We made it this far because of his sacrifice. And that of those with us now." Sherry said with some conviction on the matter as she went to the woman who asked for a drink. Holding the bottle to her, she watched a moment before her offer was considered and taken. Qadeshi, for their faults, had a bit of an altruistic streak in them when it came time to pull together for the benefit of everyone. And a strange love for odd drinks. Sherry had in her possession something outsiders had taken to calling the haymaker's punch for its thirst-quenching wallop and odd lemonade taste despite the fact there wasn't a single drop of the juice in it. The bottle had condensation to it as well, as did that of the other girl she'd introduced which meant the things had likely had some sort of built-in system to keep liquids cold. Anaïs returned with a few fresh magazines as she took the bottle back with a little nod and kindly if mysterious smile as she watched the hopefully somewhat thirst quenched woman seemingly trying to taste what she'd drank again.
Quiet now, the trio huddled up again for a moment, the woman, having taken the magazines returned the one she'd shown the strawberry-blonde child to the grip having racked the slide back and let it go to chamber a round in the chamber. Sparing a moment, the BTS scientist pulled a handkerchief out, offering it to the two to wipe at the sweat beading their brows and then her own before she loomed over the contractor's shoulder to see what he had been referencing on his map.
"Does this not place us in narrow spaces?" her accent taking on the attentive, modulated tones native to the city their father had died in. Thankfully it made her far easier to understand. It had been a silly and obvious question. But it was also one of concern considering the possibilities of such places. Though from her tone it seemed she was resigned to the fact it may be necessary as far as common sense went as a bit of challenging and protective maternal heat had built near the end of her question.
---
"It does, but the last place we want to be is on the main thoroughfare right about now.", Horus answered Sherry's question with a casual remark, not even glancing at Alphaeus' map.
"EI; That's Enemy Infantry." He explained "Will be flooding down the main roads towards the tower. The 2nd Shock corps; 'OPFOR BLUE' under cap'n Eurydice, and the Special Projects Group under cap'n Pitohui are all holding major intersections and crossings, and right about now if they aren't mining the roads and building they'll be digging in for the big push.
Most groups of refugees might be flooding the main roads, but if we can help it the guide groups; That's us, are taking alternate routes to not only keep the civi traffic down but to keep the most people out of the line of fire for when the lines break."
There was little concession towards withholding the weight truth. The war had been long and hard and by that point, it had reached and affected everyone in the Conglomerate. Qadesh had been an outlier in how long it held but was not the only great city to have fallen.
Thebes, Alexandria, Thermopylae, Olympus, Prospero; All great and powerful cities ahead of the curve in their own fields and just as ready as Qadesh had fallen one by one under the savage hordes. Powerful and advanced as BAMF was, there just wasn't the manpower or material to literally fight the entire world.
One by one the great fortress cities fell under artillery, airstrikes, even nuclear hellfire in the case of Prospero. And millions had flooded in and greedily seized all that remained to send back to crippled or burning home nations desperate for BTS technology to make up for their crumbling kingdoms and nations situations brought on by their governments own greed and hubris.
"Time to move." The lead scout at the top of the stairs gestured and urged the group up one by one.
Through the burning streets, the group advanced, dashing from cover to cover in staggered waves. They were swift and determined but their progress was opposed at every turn by not only collapsed or burning rubble brought low by artillery but by scattered pockets of overextended enemies bearing a rainbow of different colored uniforms now united in a singular purpose.
These pockets, small as they were, were costly in not only time but manpower as ambushes and breakthroughs whittled down their escorts and even unfortunate members of the group by gunfire or thrown explosives.
Elderly Callista was one such casualty. Staggering behind the group she simply collapsed and never got back up when the crack of a sniper's rifle ended her without so much as a whimper.
Horus fell not long after turning a corner ahead of the group and ran into an enemy fireteam; His warning shout being his last act in life, saving most of the group in the process as unseen men unloaded their weapons into him.
The group refused to be stymied though and fought on; every step forwards a battle in itself, every inch bought with blood. They redoubled their efforts and with time had made a zig-zagging path to the erected metal walls surrounding the Tower Of Babel. Contrast to their earlier struggles, the tower's proximity was overflowing with BAMF soldiery ranging from the occasional mech striding along its perimeter; Their great weapons mounted to their fuselage hardpoints casually swiveling left and right as they peeked over the rooftops, all the way to fortified holdout positions with dozens of BAMF marines scrambling to fortify windows and cover armored vehicles with debris as their guns trained down long streets to fire the occasional burst of scattering fire at distant targets.
Few paid them any heed, and more than a few of the groups escorting soldiers seemed to ween off into these fighting positions, or back the way they came in search of more vulnerable groups in need of protection or resuce. With only one way left to go, the group continued on until they reached one of the great gates of the tower.
Massive bunkers and erected metal towers overlooked a metal gate and breastworks easily fifty meters high. Streaming in and out of it a mass of marines and armored vehicles parted occasionally for the random refugee group like theirs. It quickly became clear from the soldier to civilian ratio that in all likelihood they may possibly be the very last group to arrive; The still distant but closing sounds of warfare leaving a starke likely hood to all those now cut off and behind enemy lines and what their fate entailed.
Allowed entry without a fuss the group was ushered into the massive, kilometer-spanning base of the orbital space-elevator and into a lobby where civilians and wounded soldiers alike were being loaded onto a massive platform.
Still, a ways distant, their group and a handful of others were cut off, much to the dismay of many, as shutters began to close and the crowd on the elevator; Packed like sardines as it was, began to rise at speed and up towards the heavens like a bullet.
Over the protests and cries of the majority of the crowd a BAMF lieutenant; Incredibly young for his rank, attempted to soothe the crowd until a weary and wounded sergeant with a pistol fired several shots into the air, silencing the crowd. Admonishing the gathering with a sweeping gesture of his pistol in one hand, more attention was drawn to the empty and pinned up the sleeve on his other arm as he nodded towards the young officer to continue.
"Y-yes!" The young officer sputtered, clearly uncomfortable now compared to before, but quickly composed himself. "The elevator was filled to capacity and we had to send it up just now! It will reach the counterpoint in roughly one hour and offload, and should be back in half the time with no passengers to consider the G-forces!
In the mean time we have a collection point for anyone who is wounded, and anyone who-"
"Anyone who wants to earn that spot on the next, and last lift can take up arms and join us in the defense while you aint got nothing better to do. Only the 2nd and SPG are left to load up, but there's a pisspot full of us and the lady expects us all on that ship!" The sergeant cut in, sensing the unease of the younger officer and taking over much to the man's chagrin.
"We have enough weapons, And ye'aint gotta hold the wall. Just post up and be ready to cover the pull-back and the rush when we gotta do the bug-out-boogie an' load our boys on."
The NCO and Officer both looked expectedly, at the group. But before any could speak up the gruff man interrupted one last time with a statement of "The kids can stay here if you got any. They'll be the first on, lady would take my other arm herself if they weren't."
An uneasy murmur started around the group. Most of the BAMF and mercenaries now a part of their little rendevous silently or with little fanfare staggered or marched in various degrees of confidence towards the man and a nearby stockpile of weapons and ammo behind him. But the civilian group, with no contracted obligation like those in BAMF, and having experienced so much just to get there still seemed undecided.
---
Čehrāzād stared down her nose one-armed Sergeant. Clutching the smallest of her siblings close as the pistol cracked several times in the air. Discarded cases ejected at each retort causing the child to jump. Even by her people's standards, she was tall. Moving the duo forward, Sherry stood before the gun-toting one-armed man, sapphire eyes having gone flinty as she stared down at him. The normal gamut ran within the five to five-ten range for women, and six for men. And she stood nearly a head taller while scooting her sister Anaïs off to the side. Had it been another time, another place, it'd have been a matter of honor to hold the safety and sanctity of life hostage. Instead, Čehrāzād leaned down just enough to be at eye level with the man her eyes intense and held just that meaning behind them. Qadeshi were slow to anger, slower to forgive, and dangerous to rile.
"Ao jāhor gūrogon bona spot hae sȳrī, lua issa hāeda us ȳgha." she hissed at him (You will earn that spot as well. Keep my young ones safe.) to those that understood it for what it meant her tone laced with all challenge she could muster despite being tired. The oldest of the two, Margot grinned a little in that way all adolescents did when dealing with authority as her elder sibling unceremoniously reached within her shirt, the glint of a metallic chain evident against the sweat sheened coppery skin and ample cleavage. Pulling it up, past her hair, the BTS scientist took a moment to liberally wipe it clean with a little sanitation wipe and dangled it at the Sergeant. With the press of a button and a little 'click' a device popped forth from the protective housing. It seemed made of some sort of iridescent metal with pulsating powder blue lines running through it before it disappeared again. One of the desert dwellers' new data storage mediums they had developed to store copious amounts of information in hard copy form. The blue coloration itself was indicative that the thing had been at capacity and the logo on its side meant just where it had come from, a BTS office. With so many of the fortress cities had fallen, it was unknown just how much of their hard work had survived and been transmitted. Her own city had done much the same, using what they had left of their communet to beam information up into orbit before it had been unceremoniously carpet-bombed.
With an unceremonious sniff of contempt, the native Qadeshi knelt to the little strawberry blonde girl and murmured in her own native tongue. Anaïs made little plaintive noises as she allowed the chain to be placed around her neck, and then hidden in her shirt. Kneeling down, Čehrāzād kissed her forehead and pulled something from her boot. It was a short-bladed, soot-black knife she pressed in the girl's hand. And with a moment's instruction of stabbing, and slashing motions, Sherry seemed satisfied. Margot received the same, albeit longer, and hadn't needed instruction. She'd made sure the girl had begun attending the schools for the more partial precept of her religion. In this case, not for war, but for defense and survival.
Standing erect, Sherry ushered the two forward where the tired Sarge indicated before crossing the distance to the pile of weapons in a much shorter time than the others. Wearing a frown, the Qadeshi scientist picked up a rifle, the thing looking foreign in her hands as she found matching magazines for them after trying several. Satisfied, the two girl's elder sibling unceremoniously placed her own pack between them and then strode to the young Lieutenant.
Holding it out to him, she'd made her there was no magazine within it, and had it held out by the butt and barrel. "You will show me how to use this weapon, yes?" her voice had lost the hard edge as she stared down at the young man. "I do not know its use. Just the pistol." standing beside him now, Sherry had the good sense to hold the weapon aloft, barrel in the air while waiting expectantly for an explanation.
It went without saying that the one-armed sergeant took Sherry's demand seriously as his stature tightened and he looked down on her. Not in a way of disrespect but as his intense gaze locked onto hers there was no sign of hostility or disregarding her courage.
Just the stern nod of a tired and proud man.
"Inshallah; Should the lady will it." he responded with a casual tone that was lost on his serious posture as he casually led not only her siblings but a handful of other non-combatants and those too timid for a fight.
The lieutenant for his part had a much more animated series of responses to Sherrys demands. As he tried to beg off, clearly uncomfortable it seemed initial estimations of his age and bearing were slightly off.
The usually tight-fitting and well-worn BAMF officer's uniform seemed somewhat loose on his frame at the gut but seemed the opposite as it practically strained against his barrel chest and broad shoulders; The infantrymans build. The nametag on his chest read faded as
Alexander III
while his other identification labeled him as an officer of the 2nd shock corps, routinely known by its unit name; OPFOR BLUE.
While his age seemed rather vague without directly asking his face, despite switching between gaunt and concern at Sherry's insistence still had the roundness of youth mixed with the barely perceptible plumage of stubble a day late of a shave.
His battle was lost when a few others came over to observe with the same concerns as Sherry.
The course ranged from overly complicated descriptions of not-needed lore about the weapons origins and features to awkward displays as Alexander attempted to shyly avoid physically touching sherry while correcting her posture. Occasionally he would turn sharply to address a myriad of others concerns and almost smack someone with his maneuver gear that most knew the purpose of by that time in the war as the massive accelerated jumps that bordered on almost flying in some units like the 2nd was known the world over for its devastating use in formation breaking shock and awe attacks when the propulsion reversed and heavily armored BAMF marines would casually smash into their enemies with disorganizing attacks before bursting up and away just as fast.
When the lesson seemed like it was finally reaching its end the young lieutenants entire bearing seemed to make a complete change from his cute if annoying timidness around sherry when he suddenly tensed beside her, His bones audibly cracking and the fabric of his uniform straining as his shoulders set back and his chest seemed to jut forwards in a way that made him look older beyond his years as if he mirrored the sergeant from before as he sensed a change invisible to everyone else.
"Its time we move." He stated in a soft if commanding tone to the group as a moment later and without warning the armored shutters of the outside entrance slammed down to cover all but a singular airlock. The look in his eyes as he passed by the group and collected his own rifle was chilling in the way that the young man practically looked
*through*
the people around him in a disconcerting manner to most that left no room for argument.
The few who paused in confusion started and jumped as the distant sounds of warfare suddenly exploded just outside as if they had been deaf before. The sounds of slightly distant weapons responded to by the closer and heavier crack of BAMF rifles and grenades as the partially visible chaos outside showed BAMF marines on the walls scrambling and firing at something out of view.
Before the group followed alexander away from the elevator platform and down the hall in the same direction as their noncombatants stray rounds and rockets caused the armored glass of the shutters to erupt in a series of spiderweb-like patterns as the world descended into the sounds of pops, cracks, and explosions outside; Shaking the very base of the tower around them.
They had only walked partially down a long and straight corridor that ended in a thick and armored-looking pair of double doors when Alexander abruptly stopped and started pulling up tabs on the metal-plated floors. Each tab unlocked and could be pulled upwards as chest-high metal barricades easily large enough for two men abreast to take cover behind started to lock into place at staggered intervals.
"Use these and stay here." He ordered in the same commanding tone, cutting off anyone about to start asking questions. "The rest of your loved ones are down the hall and through those doors. You have fifty meters of the hall to fire down and this is the only way in. There will be an alarm when the elevator is only a few minutes out, sergeant Peri will lead them and you to the elevator just after."
A few people started to object, assuming the young officer was going to stay with them but most of their protests went on deaf ears as the young man started off back the way they had come. Eventually he passed out of sight as the double doors they came from swung closed behind him with a slam and a loud clunking sound made it evidently clear they had locked behind him.
Despite the assurances of those with time-keeping devices, it had felt like Alexander had been gone for a short eternity when something changed in the ebb and flow of the combat outside. The constant shaking of the tower had started to die down to a trickle and had devolved into just distant but unceasing gunfire.
Through a series of porthole-style windows in the hall a few people were able to discern that their portion of the elevator terminal they were in was at least twenty feet off the ground and overlooking an open space between the terminal and the wall.
Most of them shrunk back or outright jumped away when entire hordes of identifiably hostile soldiers continuously stormed through breaches in the walls and into the outer-terminal. The only change to this was when one of the towering mechs of BAMF swayed past with its heavy gate, casually swatting or stomping the teams of hostiles who fired up at it ineffectually. For the briefest moment those who looked through the porthole could see the silhouette of the pilot inside casually turn their way before the hall shook has the massive autocannon on its lower fuselage opened up at something out of sight; The very vibrations of the weapons enough to feel in any of their skulls before it swayed out of sight.
As if answering the sound of the weapon a new series of sounds came from the end of the hall as visible
*screaming*
could be heard intermixed with the sound of heavy BAMF rifles cutting short abruptly one after the other until in only a few seconds all had gone quiet. As most of the group of some twelve refugee militia stood stalk still or looked between each other a shape passed by the tinted window-slits of the doors.
For the briefest moment it was seen, its silhouette was something other than human. For anyone in BTS like Caelus or Sherry, or with combat experience like Alphaeus they knew on an instinctual level what it was.
There was no time to warn anyone, however, when as soon as it had passed the shape seemed to slide back to the doors and stand just on the other side. Casually at first the doors clunked as it tried to push them open, causing someone in the group to choke down a sob. Then with a crash of gridning metal an armored
arm
ending in claw-like
talons
for fingers punched through it like it was made of tissue paper.
The frame of the doors started to buckle and warp as the
Golem
on the other side began to push through.