AW [OPFOR BLUE] ENTER THE HYENAS'

[Char]

Scouring the plato for clues was a trial in its own to discover anything permeable as ot its purpose. Other than basic excavation and landscaping equipment that Motts surmised could have been used to level the top grade of the plato in the buildings there was little to go off of with even what could have been intended as a foremans office containing nothing now but folding chairs and a plastic table.

That was for the more biological members of the team at least.

Moving on her theory as she strode the length of the plato Ares was already doing base measurements of the potential of being an airfield but already found it too short for even more than a couple VTOL capable craft at best and only just barely. Morgans switch to a more heat-sensitive optical mode gave a new hint, however.

In the black and purple-blue world of her infrared vision; A pattern emerged as she looked down the length of the plato. Unseen to the naked eye at first was several swimming-pool length rectangular patches of packed earth just barely high up than the pooled rain, leaving staggering and neat symmetrical rows down the length with over twenty mounds spanning the length of the field.

Following the pattern, she came across a deep pit roughly eight feet deep and the same diameter across as the filled-in twenty-first pit awaited something to fill it. The pit was currently empty; The shallow bed-sediment and water table of their world simply absorbing the water sans a few inches that accumulated just enough to cover a few of her spokes if she examined inside.

What it could possibly mean none of them could yet know; As right around the same time Typhon became aware of it from his position, Morgan too was alerted by Ares still hanging on her hip of a collum of lights at least five miles out and closing at a sedate pace.

Even from there it was clear that it was more than just a single vehicle making a routine stop to the plato like many before it. with four such vehicles approaching it was anything but the lone vic they had observed so far.

"Too slow to be on the alert 's my gut telling me," Motts chimed in from the radio net to each of them at the sight.

"Find a spot to lay low and stay down; We arent equipped for a fight if theres even a few EI per vic. Stay. Down."

Despite his words there was a little actual cover or places to hide on such open ground. Two outbuildings only a single story and few hundred square feet each, a generator shed. All that and the dead of nights visibility and the natural dark pallet of their surroundings aiding their already black oiled leathers meant that if nothing else they could wallow in the mud and have a better chance of not being spotted than just standing in the open.

 

[Soresu]

Sherry wanted to curse, she was a damned scientist. Not some sort of SpecOps, Commando, Shock trooper or whatever else BAMF liked to use and call themselves. If you wanted something designed and built, she was your girl. Wanted a genetic horror? Probably could do that too (And oh how she didn't even realize she had accomplished that task in some manner) but the scientist did as she was told. Finding a place for herself, the Qadeshi wrapped the leathers up around her, concealing the weapon, and simply hid. Remained still on the ground of her little spot not so much as a peep coming from her.

 

[Gunhand4171]

"Damn it..." Typhon cursed. "Repositioning." The marksman said over the comm, as he grabbed his equipment. Moving further down into the mud, he began to cake himself and his clothes in muck. Moving slowly, he positioned himself on the ridge so that he had a clear line of sight as the convoy as well as the compound. Training his rifle on the convoy, all he could do was wait as they lumbered their way over. Sending a prayer to the Lady for her protection, he waited.

 

[LavaLung]

Foundations... Or Graves?

Morgan was further into the middle of the field than the others, but faster on foot. Thus, the obvious dilemma became 'Do my footprints look human enough to arouse suspicion?...' Not really any time to dwell on it. Hopefully the rain would provide fast obfuscation.

They used the closest outbuilding to visually cover their retreat back onto the side of the slope, intentionally not going anywhere near the rest of the squad. About twenty foot down, the skip-run ended with them simply faceplanting into the mud, making sure Ares got a nice dollop on his head without being too crass about it.

Turned off the high-refractive system in their eye-lenses to reduce their glow, but maxed out the gain on those ear-antennas.

<"Suggestion; If they make contact, break off-"> N-14's electronically transmitted voice seemed not just emotionless on this occasion, but strangely calm, almost mocking. Perhaps they were pondering the concept of their meaty comrades freezing in their britches, whilst the mechanical rabbit couldn't feel a damn thing? <"This unit is the best equipped to run a distraction. N-14 is willing.">

 

[Char]

Site

It was several tense minutes as the squad waited hesitantly for the vehicles to roll into the area. Discipline to orders kept them from simply running down the opposite lip and ledge and scooting into the dark and away.

For most of them it was as easy as just flattening themselves in the couple inches of standing mud, pulling their leather oilcloak tight around themselves, and doing their best impression of just one more mound or lump of disturbed earth as their dark gear in the perpetual twilight of the day made them as good as the scenery around them.

When they did come in, the four cargo-5 covered trucks rolled up the incline and into the plato where they formed a four-track semicircle in front of the sole building and garage. The drivers and a passenger or two came from three of the four vehicles while the fourth exclusively unloaded some eight men and women sporting bright orange-yellow tarp-ponchos as they began unloading bundles of tools and other equipment that they quickly squirreled away into the garage as soon as it was opened by the first man in.

"Eighteen all day," A whispered report came in through the comms in each of their ears almost as loud as their thundering hearts as one of the squaddies closer to the truck but too close to slip further away reported.

"Two rifles visible on security walking the field," he continued as two men broke away from the trucks and began walking the plato and towards Morgan's position too casually to be on any kind of alert. "No clue what they've got under those ponchos', Pistols?"

It was at this time that, after unloading all their tools and while a couple of them began checking over and preparing one of the excavators in the garage that most of the men started back towards the trucks; Lining up at the back of them as one-two men climbed in the back and began unloading what looked like long rolled up carpets wrapped in some kind of tarp-like canvas that was tied at several points and that bowed in the middle like a 'U'-shape as one man grabbed it from the front and another from the back before tossing the sack like a bag of potatoes down into the mud where two more men loaded the large almost 5+ foot in length bundle onto some kind of wheelbarrel-flatbed contraption but with some kind of powered treads instead of wheels for the mud and pushed them down the plato where they were dumped once again unceremoniously into the empty pit morgan had found and then back towards the trucks to do it again.

"Sherry, dont. move." Motts voice brought everyone's attention somewhere else.

Sherry couldn't see them, but there was a sound in the rain behind her and drew closer. It became clear as they drew closer that two men where slowly stomping in a direct intercept course towards her.

"Typhon, Morgan, on my mark." Motts whispered as he, directly across from sherry began to ever so slowly move his Caliburn out from under his chest and poked it out just enough so that the barrel was now pointing out from under his chest and in her direction.

There was the ever so subtle vibration at her ankel as a boot landed almost close enough to touch her.

And then before another thought could pass the toe of a boot caught against Sherrys' thigh and the man tumbled and tripped over her; One knee landing painfully on her tailbone and his weight crashing onto her back and then off of her enough to force her face directly into the mud. The weight remianed on her for only a second before it rolled off of her and another man, above her, laughed at his fellow and stepped over Sherry in a way that implied he was aware of her now.

"Alright?" A hearty chuckle came from the man in a language all too familiar to Sherry as he helped his comrade up who was spitting and cursing.

"Fucking hell, man!" a second voice, much younger whined, the changing direction of his voice implying he was shaking or spinning or flailing the mud off. "Cant they bury these things deeper?" His voice implied he was gesturing at Sherry before a cry of alarm sounded from the younger one again as he slipped and the heel of a boot hit Sherry in the side not too painfully as the man clearly slipped again while trying to kick her.

Another round of laughing came from the first man before he grunted helping the second one up.

"Don't make too much of a ruckus," He warned, the sound of a grin in his tone, "Someone didn't do their job right and the rain uncovered this one. Make too much noise and the overseer finds it and we'll have one more to throw in the pit, come on." The last statement was uttered more quietly as the voices pulled further away as the first man guided the second one away.

There was a relieved sigh over the net from Motts before quietly ordering Sherry to 'Check in' her status before a follow-up order.

"Typhon, Morgan, Lacroix, Baal; One of you get me eyes on what they're dropping in that pit. Sherry, Alphaeus, the rest of you try to pull towards the lip of the plato while I set up a diversion. Friendship is inbound if we need him; ETA five minutes."

 

[LavaLung]

Morgan tensed up and then shrugged when the two silhouettes walked away from Sherry, despite themselves.

Even before the orders, they were simulating the various plays in their head, trying to decide the approach with the most confusion and plausible deniability. They had stealth because of the ashen black dirt, but jumping straight up into the air would ruin that- Normally their favourite tactic for getting the drop on unsuspecting humans at night. They had also specifically requested a more generic humanoid disguise, because enemies suddenly realising the inhumanity of their target made them freeze up, more often than not...

Huh, so this is what it felt like being the monster, in one of those cheesy slasher flicks...

<"Typhon... Lacroix... Baal..."> A subtle electronic whisper, rasping just above the constant patter of echoing rainfall. It sounded text-to-speech, since no real-world vocalisation was taking place. <"Speculation; Think one of you could throw something from your direction? Cause a distraction? This unit can get into the pit and roll under the... unrecognized objects... if needed.">

The logic wasn't really that complicated. They were most likely the only one in the unit with no fear of being buried alive.

 

[Gunhand4171]

At Motts' order, Typhon trained his weapon on one of the two guards and waited for the word to execute. Fortunately they chose to ignore Sherry. The marksman let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and relaxed. When Morgan made their request, Typhon whispered. "Affirmative, wait one." He said a he searched the ground for a stone.

After locating a mud soaked stone, he searched for a suitable position to lob it. Once he did he hurled the stone at several drum barrels and waited for the resounding "thud" it would create.

 

[Soresu]

Sherry's eye had twitched twice. First from the boot smacking her in the side. Her hip now sore, the second time at the language being spoken. The scientist had come close to sputtering a curse but managed to hold her tongue.

"Pōnta issi dôr...?" (They are killing people?) was her whispered the question to herself and served as an answer to Motts when he asked about a pit. "They... spoke my tongue." voice hushed after the duo had moved on. "Mentioned an 'Overseer'." more whispered words then a grimace at the slight throb to her hip.

"Am I clear to get out of this... muck?"

 

[Char]

"Bide." Came the terse response to Sherrys' request as Motts began pulling himself towards the vehicles in the mud a moment after Typhons overhand toss missed the barrels but made a just barely passible and wet smack in the mud for two of the more lazy haulers who seemed to be passing the work off to others to pause in their professional leaning but not otherwise react as the clear lack of tactical awareness or general paranoia when one should be weary of enemies was lacking.
The innate sense that these people lacked natural predators was a clear distinction.


This was reinforced by the less than tactical manner in which they operated as what should have been a rotating guard between the two rifle-armed men instead casually paced the plato side by side in a more obligation than any routine. The two of them stopped lazily at the side of the pit as one man pushed a tracked wheel barrel cart and unceremoniously dumped his cargo into the pit.

"Move." Motts finally order sherry as he slid under one of the large 5-ton trucks and out of sight. The radio remained active for a moment as the NCO smacked his lips a couple of times and cut and then opened the line several times in clear apprehension.

"N-14..." He paused with a slight tone of uncertainty as he was about to order the Golem before addressing everyone else instead. "Belay, never mind. Friendship is inbound; ETA unknown. Everyone lay low and out of sight until the heavies arrive and don't do anything rash."

As if to tempt fate someone finally kicked on the generator and the several spotlights on the hill near typhon and across the lip illuminated the Plato from above with several thousand lumens of direct light on everyone present.

Including Morgan as the next cart pusher slowed to a stop and cringed away from the suddenly bright lights and directly into an unfortunate direction as she visibly peered across the twenty feet between them and paused, uncertain of what she was looking at as her mind processed the odd form of the prone murder machine.

With Sherry and Morgan in the open in different locations with almost clear visibility, there was a few heartbeats where the only sound was the rain and the hearts (or lack thereof) beating in their chests.

Motts was barely into sucking a breath through his teeth for a curse over the radio when Ares began running offensive subroutines and removing restrictions on weapons for a body he currently did not have.

 

[LavaLung]

Morgan N-14 remained frozen as a corpse.

It wasn't a test of their mettle or character. They knew their body was designed for noisy, blood-strewn terror, and not silent assassinations. It was Motts' order not to engage, a situation of command structure protocol their augmented brain was specifically hardwired not to disobey.

The Gol fought against the blanketing, smothering buzzing. The surrounding non-music that sought to drive out conscious thoughts of aggression.

<"Unit is at high risk of being sighted."> The text-to-speech mode completely failed to portray their urgency. <"Request permission to either engage, or harry for the sake of covering withdrawal.">

Best they could do right now was just stare straight ahead, and generally look like a scary found object.

They hoped at least that was distracting enough.

 

[Gunhand4171]

"That's not good..." Typhon cursed as the generator kicked on and started illuminateing the AO. He didn't think he was spotted yet, so he trained his rifle on one of the soldiers nearest Morgan.

If they tried to go for a weapon he was going to drop them. His sights were trained on the soldier's chest. He tapped his mic, connecting him to Motts. "I'm lined up, just say the word."

 

[Soresu]

Čehrāzād cursed under her breath as she was finally given leave to move from the muck. She managed to get her hands under her and pull herself up. Mud and dirt-caked her front. Her sides. And part of her face and hair. Having thought herself in the clear, the Qadeshi almost screamed a curse to the Creator once the lights turned on. Bolting would only serve to arouse suspicion and alarm. With so much mud on her, the uniform was mostly obscured anyway. And armed with the knowledge of what she had heard. Of her native tongue being spoken. The scientist instead strode purposefully away feigning wiping herself clean her weapon slung over a shoulder.

And for added flavor managing a string of expletives just loud enough for one to grumble to themselves at some accident that just befell them.

If anyone came along and saw her, she could play the knowledge she gleaned from that brief snippet of conversation. If they asked why she wore that coat or somehow managed to identify it through the muck. Well. It did make a fine trophy. And kept the rain off. But for now, all she could do was play pretend and pick an opportune moment to hide. That didn't have lights blindingly flashing down at her.

 

[Char]

Plato

The poncho-wearing woman move through the stages of recognition as she slowly stiffened and even shook slightly and no doubt began hyperventilating as the sight of a Golem inlaid a natural fight or flight response in most who encountered them.

Seconds passed in eternity as morgan did nothing. And while this in itself was terrifying in its own right there was enough time for the laborer to process and her brain to start working where she risked a sidelong glance towards someone else.

"H-hey?" She hissed at another laborer with his head down from the rain. He continued on clearly not hearing her over the drumming of rain on his hood as the first woman looked back towards morgan again. When nothing continued to happen she eased slightly; The natural tendencies of sudden and extreme violence natural to the Gol were clearly at odds with the one before her which alleviated some concern enough to call out.

A wordless yelp escaped her and finally, one of the two patrolling guards nearby took notice before practically yanking his comrade next to him to also face the Golem as the two also froze with the rifles in their hands low and forgotten.

"Step away from it and get back to work!" A voice behind morgan shouted as someone stomped audibly in the mud behind the Golem and then past her to shoo away the laborer who practically ran off as the two guards carefully approached with more curiosity than caution as the new man turned to morgan.

He was a large sort; Fat but broad at the shoulders with a bald pate exposed to the rain and eyes hidden behind goggles as rain drained down his burgeoning face. If it werent for his clear authoritative attitude as he shooed off others and took control he would have been unrecognizable from the others from their boss.

He looked Morgan up and down, clearly unsure what to make of her as he lingered on her legs a while with apparent curiocity. As if some decision had been reached internally he beamed a wide toothy smile at her.

"Didn't know the guard had another one of you lot other than the big guy." He chuckled with mirth but still kept a clear and wise distance from her before settling on Ares head as he practically choked on his own saliva at seeing him.

"And what's that, a trophy? Never saw the head intact when taking one of you bastards down, usually, it's unrecognizable from how you gotta kill you guys. Either you're hard shit or that guy was a pushover!"

He seemed to chuckle to himself again before shaking his head and getting a bit more professional as if the one-sided small talk was just formality.

"So how come you're all the way out here, and on that leg no less must've taken you a while? If you're after whatever knocked Toar'ds truck days past I told the supe that they prob didn't check-in with the motor poole and its just sitting one of the bays while that lazy ass and his crew slack off."

The man continued to ramble and talk in a way that implied he was rather fond of the sound of his own voice and little regard to morgans actual presence.

Nearby

Sherry was able to confidently slip behind the garage and outbuilding without anyone paying her any actual mind as something clearly more interesting was getting everyone elses attention as if they had never seen a Golem upclose before as people put down their bundles and carts and looked on from a safe distance as a clear fool stood close enough...

A flash of a Yuen Gol closing meters in a single bound and the lives he was able to reap in mere seconds passed by in her head from her own last meeting with one that she had barely survived was a testament to their capability.

And that Gol had been a scout; Incredibly fast but still considered the easiest archetype of golem to kill while N-14 was a Hunter Killer which while not the hardest to combat was widely considered to be unmatched carnage incarnate for anyone within line of sight to one.

Her thoughts were broken as a strong grip grasped her by the shoulder and yanked her to the side.

"Don't scream." Motts ordered as he pulled her out of sight and attempted to silence any protest before it could mount as he looked Sherrys' mud-covered visage with no small degree of intrigue despite the fact he was little better from crawling about in the mud.

"Typhon. We're pulling back; Cover N-14 while she breaks contact and then move towards the Rendevous. N-14 extricate yourself if you can avoid damage; Make an exit best you can otherwise post haste."

Orders given Motts began to slink ahead against the edge of the building and towards the base of the hill where they would be able to simply slip down and into the dark.

"Friendship will be here any minute." He stated over his shoulder to Sherry as he lead her "If he comes in hot we'll just get in the way. Best thing to do is get a klick or two out and-"

They passed right around the corner and stood face to face with a laborer in a bright orange poncho hiding from his duties behind the shed while a taking a drag from a slick black cigarette of some kind as he turned to look right at them. For a moment he grinned shamefully thinking he was caught before his mouth pulled into a line and he really stared at the duo in speculation.

Clearly unsure what to make of the two he pulled himself off the wall and took a more rigid stance as the wheels clearly began to turn in his head.

Infront of Sherry, Motts hand began to slowly twitch towards his side where she knew like with her own longcoat there was a slit for easy access to a knife on his hip.

 

[LavaLung]

Plateau

Morgan cursed Mott's lack of specificity. They didn't know if that order specified avoiding damage to the enemy, or themselves.

Either way, staring up into the rain on low power mode, without all of the extra-sensory chatter or target reticules... Black sky and black earth, just the faint babble of some old man she didn't know, half drowned out by the streaks of glimmering rain from an opaque heaven...

She was... Dreaming? Dead? At peace?

For some reason, it reminded her of a story she read as- When she was a she, a flesh and blood human- about a medieval beggar who was said to be cursed by an ignorant mass of villagers, beaten to death and cast under a linden tree. Sinking down, the child's ghost combined with that gnarled root and became a revenant, rising again as that which exists... between...

It was never translated out of german. Maybe it existed only in N-14's memory, now that the one, original, true world was gone?...

Vertigo. The whine of badly maintained actuators. She couldn't feel the thick, syrupy gore wash down her clawed left hand, but registered it on the level that this man's chest cavity was suddenly restricting the movement.

"Oh." The jet black scarecrow remarked simply, with a distant, almost mocking tone, her voice like as if they'd walked out of a store and forgotten to pay for a candy bar. "Suppose I'll have to make trophies from all of you, now."

A bisecting kick from her bladed shin made the rest of the man spray apart like a grotesque piñata, chain-teeth scratching together like a thousand tiny scabbards unsheathing and re-sheathing in sequence.

The next closest human being was barrel-whipped in the collar bone, precisely maimed with all of the force of a falling steel girder.

The third, -after a spinning pirouette-, was met with a shallow but no less biting diagonal leg-slash, shoulder to waist.

All an out of body experience, from Morgan's perspective. This earth wasn't real, after all. It didn't feel real. Just another thoughtless dream.

<"Ares, would you please hack their radio communications?"> As logical as he was, he might have noticed N-14 was still working on low power, without FOF identifiers. <"If you can find the frequency?">

 

[Gunhand4171]

"Aye, aye." Replied Typhon as he watched N-14's opponents become crimson mist. 'Well that makes things simpler...' he thought.

"Morgan, get moving. I'll watch your back." The marksman said as he sighted in the next closet target. "May the Lady watch over me." He prayed as he prepared to pull the trigger. The moment he saw one of the enemy soldiers pull their weapon, he was prepared to drop them.

 

[Char]

Platue

There was a sureal effervescence as for a brief moment around morgan the rain turned a shade of red and seemed to flow up off the ground and towards the sky as individual droplets of blood kicked and sprayed about in slow motion as her cogitation worked overtime and the world turned that much slower.

She was moving about like a passionate dancer amongst the gathering in those few seconds of extreme high-impact violence the Gol were famous for; That moment of sheer awe and confusing hesitation where the human mind simply couldn't comprehend what was happening in their midst and paused or hesitated to process even as death closed in on them.

There was a word for it, lost to her in the moment as her chainleg bit into the thick poncho of someone standing an d staring dumbstruck even as the teeth of her leg tore through the material in near and instant and threw the rest about like confetti as his liver was turned to pulp before the weapon passed out of his stomach and she continued her momentum to spin and throw all half-ton of her weight into someone else as a backhand turned his nose concave and his lower jaw was suddenly protruding past his forehead. Ares was running passive operations in this time, running basic EWAR and communication interdiction while acting almost like a second set of eyes from her hip.

The two armed guards finally seemed to snap out of their stupor and Morgan watched from just too far away as one of them pulled the trigger too early in his panic as bullets kicked up the mud one by one as the barrel slowly raised towards her. The second guard was only a hair behind but jerked sideways suddenly and fell as Typhon blew a hole through his chest. The first man finally pulled up enough that a few rounds traveled up her hip and side but most Golem were fast if nothing else and as soon as her... Footing... Was beneath her she exploded off to the side like a rocket and was parallel to him in less than a second.

There were other rounds striking her from some other directions as a few brave souls drew sidearms and plinked away at her unsuccessfully while most others either still stood dumbfounded or ran screaming in abject horror. Such horror was radiating from the second guard as his rifle clicked empty and under the hood of his poncho his face creased and puckered even as blood pooled down his chin from bitting his lip hard enough he had almost bitted clean through.

There were moments in the war like this, too many of them to count. As men and woman stood before Morgan and other Gol and showed their mettle. Some deflated or simply let their minds wander in some form of life flashing before their eyes, others raged against their fate and lashed out with whatever guile they could muster.

The man before Morgan outright cold-cocked her against the side of her warmask with his rifle and screamed out some kind of sound like a cat having its tail stepped on as he took the barrel of his rifle in both hands despite the heat of it steaming individual raindrops and prepared to swing for the fences.

His spine made an almost audible popping and wrenching sound as Morgan simple pushed his head to the side until his ear rested on his shoulder at a ninety-degree angle as his spine bulged visibly against his neck before the body slumped into a heap in the mud.

While Morgan was treating the locals like a bunch of pinatas' in need of having their candy removed and Typhon performed long range endoscopy Motts and Sherry suddenly ran out of time for excuses as the slacker of the work crew jerked his head at the shooting and connected the dots faster than most. He lunged at Motts and Sherry but clearly didnt plan out anything beyond attack as he attempted to wrap both arms at the elbow around both of their necks to tackle them down. There was an immense weight on Sherry that drove her hard enough into the mud to knock the wind out of her lungs and then a settling weight on her.

The weight didnt move or even shift until Motts pulled the corpse off of her, his knife still punched half way through his hood and into the ear canal and somewhere in his left himisphere.

She was halfway to her feat when a form half again larger than even Motts crashed into the mud before them. At almost seven foot and a half-ton including the wearer's weight the heavy Einherjar armor was a terrifying sight with its bulk, indifferent mask-helmet combo, and the soft but imposing red glow from the lenses of its eyes as the marine stood over them. He examined them for only a second, identifying their longcoats and bodyarmor before it bent at the knees and as if pushing from the bottom of a pool to the surface simply rocketed away with a near-silent whine as the propulsion pack on his back and hips propelled the marine upwards and away with the weight-altering antigrav built into it allowing OST marines to jump around extreme distances like leaves on the wind before crashing back down to earth like a pouncing spider.

Such a scene took place as soon as they were in the open again as a marine simply fell out of the darkness above; One giant metal boot simply landing on a fleeing mans face as the marine put 500 pounds of armor into a curbstomp when he came back to the ground. Another landed less gracefully and slid like a skater in the mud while delivering a elbow into someone that sent them sprawling before using the momentum to backhand a laborer hard enough blood exploded from the mess that was once a nose.

More and more OST marines fell from the sky in their heavy armor until twelve of them were expertly corraling the surviving laborers into a circle where they fought between various forms of fight or flight when they were forced between submitting or being pushed much closer to a nearby Golem than they would like.

The choice was finally made when the last bit of resistance was taken from them when a woman braver than most tried to unload a pistol point-blank into one of the OST marines. Much faster than one might think someone in such armor could react a massive gauntleted hand grabbed the sidearm and nearly engulfed it; Locking the slide back and wrenching it out of the womans hands. A kick directly to her gut sent her sprawling several feet and few doubted she had less than a few cracked if not broken ribs. Pistols and even one of the rifles recovered from one of the dead guards where tossed away and ten surviving laborers sank to their knees in the mud with their hands above or behind their heads.

Despite the heavy weapons each of the heavy OST marines carried not a single shot had been fired...

"Everyone alright? Motts?" A familiar, jovial, voice came through their earbud radios as one of the taller marines stood apart from the encircling giants and gave a jaunty wave towards Typhon on the hill where it was clear he could see him as Lieutenant Alexandar of Amtapov; Callsign Friendship had arrived in spectacular fashion with the companies few other heavy OST rated marines.

When the team was together again, Alexandar summoned one of the other marines who broke away from the group and wordlessly began examining them rather delicately despite his armor, practically covering Sherry in bruisepaks and a couple of pills he was somehow able to receive from a bottle in a pouch despite the fact his armored finger was too large to even fit in the bottle.

Alexandar removed his helmet to reveal a sweat-covered boyish face with an early unshaved stubble. He appraised them all from Typhon and Alphaeus to Morgan, Sherry and everyone else who never seem to really talk much... And when he was sure they were all present and hale his stern face broke out in a warm smile.

"XO' orders from the major were to make a good first impression, Motts." He chided humorously at them as if his own team hadn't killed at least as many as Morgan on their arrival. Motts looked at the others in his team, unsure of how to inform his immediate superior of their discovery...

 

[Gunhand4171]

Typhon fired and shifted to the next target. Rinse and repeat. That was until the OSTs fell out of the sky like shooting stars. The marksman smiled wide. It was a sign, the lady had heard his plea.

Waving back to Alexander he picked up his kit and regrouped with the others. "In our defense LT, they started it." Typhon said. "Also they aren't so innocent either." He added, jerking a thumb over his shoulder towards the dumping ground.

 

[LavaLung]

Despite an absence of what you could really call 'hot blood' inside of them, it took a few moments for Morgan N-14 to realign their connection with reality.

Barbarically shredding apart human body parts was such an insanely grotesque affair that her brain dealt with it in the same way as one might a cheesy slasher flick- A comically brutal slapstick farce. The additional black shapes falling from the sky, and performing their own frenzied dance of savagery, that just proved it was a dream, not to be taken seriously...

But it always ended the same way, with their phantom stomach sinking down into the blackest possible pit, stood in the gruesome leavings of that animalistic frenzy... Unlike a movie, these scenes never conveniently cut away, saving the audience from the horrid aftermath...

A click-popping sound as her eyes turned bright blue again, FOF sensors activating to confirm the identity of these new giants. Muscle memory said her ears were ringing, but it was just an impacted speaker on the right side of their helmet. A couple more gaping holes in the black bio-plastic of their torso too, playing with the flashlights of the others to make their skeleton gleam out of the smouldering pits.

Made them feel like a walking toy. Kind hated that.

"...Sherry... sergeant Mott..." A distant tone, very obviously just confirming them not being killed during the encounter. "The fire support was appreciated, Typhon... Organised numbers is how bees kill hornets."

Hard to make an opinion of Alexandar. Though she supposed, if he had command authority over them, there wasn't really much of a point in making one.

Rather emotionlessly, Morgan just cut to the chase, and jumped down into the closest pit personally. Uncovering one of these corpses could tell them a lot about what was happening here.

 

[Char]

Plateau

The lieutenant, Alexandar, panned his gaze around the larger group of detainees with an air of self-satisfaction tugging at his face as the only other armored marine larger than himself trudged after Morgan with just a nod from him. in the afterglow from the spotlights and the barely noticeable rain there was a halo effect around him as he clearly waged an unintentional war for the perfect propaganda shot of the towering and implacable OST marine with his helmet at his side as he stared off wistfully at...

Ten marines turned in unison towards the pit with weapons raised. Morgan, the only member of Motts' team privy to their channel could hear the distressed and almost inhuman scream from the marine that followed her that resounded through the channel after he jumped in the pit with her.

Taller than the pit was deep the towering behemoth of a man leaped unaided by his maneuver gear with a show of incredible dexterity and landed on his feet at the lip, striding forwards with a small bundle in his arms. Nobody moved as he stumbled over and sank to his knees as one side, already knowing what was to come, froze in apprehension as he laid it at their feet.


2 hours later

The captured laborers had been made to dig. To near collapsing they had been thrust with their own simple hand tools and forced at gun and golempoint to dig up the second to last pit until the first bodies were found.

Alexandar was stoic and impassive as they watched over the procession; His thoughts a mystery after he put his helmet back on and spoke no more after dismissing the squad and all but his own team and Morgan to the outbuilding to rest as they stood sentinel over the grim procession. In this time a few Pioneer halftracks arrived with more marines that had been dispatched as reinforcements as the company was diverted towards their location.

Now , hours later, just shot of five hundred marines either overlooked from the hill or stood sentry along the Platue silently as the rumors became fact when they reached the first body.

Despite their clear exhaustion, Motts and his team were brought up alongside Alexandar and other of the command staff as they stood overlooking the deed.

"How many." The radio-tinted voice boomed from the lieutenants helmet in a clipped tone as the laborers were cleared out and trussed up into a few Pioneers.

Astarte Dubrant was an odd sight under her Umbrella the way she clutched to it like a safety blanket after she visibly flinched at his tone. She answered nonetheless.

"Fifty at least in each grave, eleven graves counting the last one." She started, doing her best not to look at the dessecated bodies laid out before them. "If- Our medics look most of them over and the only correlation connecting most are that they would likely be categorized into 305-contracts."

305-contracts all of them knew was one of the many contracts a member of Babel could be placed into. It covered those often removed from the labor force including the elderly, those with sickness or illness Babel was still treating or unable to, the crippled beyond the use of prosthetics, and those with mental deficiencies.

The older woman laying before them was a perfect example with her frail, emaciated body. They showed no sign of visible injury to cause death but the consensus from the medics was cryovasular strangulation.

"The cryostasis pods have failsafe and backup procedures in case of power loss." Astarte had explained.

"It was intentional." The Woodsman remarked in conclusion for her; The knight having joined the expedition with his few Cabbit capable scout mechs and a handful of squires. The man technically outranked the Lieutenant but was differing to him as a subordinate outside the chain of command.

The mood quickly sobered as reality set in. Over five hundred, that they knew of were simply killed off in their pods; Never to wake again. Clearly anticipating the next link in the chain of everyone's upcomming thought process the adjutant tried to tamper their next action with futility.

"Sofia and Mondato; Our pathfinders are still scouting the perimiter of the settlement and have sent back their estimates:

• At least five thousand men if barracks layouts are to be believed.
• A Golem net and a visible sighting of at least one Macro-type golem
• A mech-bay with two visible mechs; One light, and one medium mechs
• Six VTOL pads for Griffins or Basilisk
• A sizeable motor pool
• And more. "

While her estimates were to paint the picture that even with the full might of the 2,500+ marine expedition it was 2:1 odds at the best scenario and worse with the rock-paper-scissors effects of actual mechs, and a hard-counter to their one fielded golem with Macro-type Gol being the closest counter to Hunter-Killer type Gol like Morgan due to their endurance against the advantages HK-types like Morgan relied on that quickly dwindled the longer an engagement dragged on.

Astarte looked around helplessly when nobody spoke, the atmosphere around the plateau clear the next course of action even if every single marine there had heard her or otherwise.

"Five thousand!" She began.

"Stood down in their billet, light arms." One of the OST countered.

"Leave the walkers to me." The woodsman followed up, his squired nodding fervently.

"Birds are cold on their pads, easy kill." The next continued.

"Vics will just get in their war when we're airborne."

"We are confident in our ability to remove other units." Ares joined in from Morgans hip.

"Numbers arent keen, though. XO is hours behind and theres no way we can organize the full brigade before they notice us."

Alexandar still stood as still as a statue as he stared through the lens of his helmet at the exposed grave. Finally he turned his attention back to his command staff and began issuing orders.


Thus spoke apocalypse.

Motts sat behind the wheel of the cargo-bed truck, adjusting the bright-orange poncho in clear discomfort once more as the truck approached the gate under the bright beams of the spotlights. A sentry walked out from under a booth to the side of the cab and started up a short conversation with him from his window that the team could just barely hear the man chortle out a laugh from the sound of rain hitting the canvas top of their truck.

After just a moment the truck started up again, it and its four sister vehicles turning a corner and into the base. From the piggyback onto the squad net the team could hear the cold-stuttering voice of the pathfinder-teams spotter Mondato as he guided Motts in the lead truck from their vantage point overlooking the base. Eventually their lead truck pulled off infront of a large open hangar and the other four continued on to their objective.

Motts opened up the back and revealed his team fresh in their commandeered bright-orange ponchos.

"Six minutes." He reminded them as Sherry, Alphaes, Typhon and the others shuffled out before being followed by the Woodsman and his Three squires still wearing their oil-stained jumpsuits. As they started towards the hangar there was a series of whines and wet stamping sounds as the massive Liosultan mech stomped casually with its wide gait out of one side of the hangar and off into the dark. The slow and unhurried pace, one of the squires quickly assured them, was likely a bug run the mechs squires were running to test the mech's systems as it strolled around the base.

Regardless it was a poor sign of things to come considering the heavier mech was their objective.

The team strolled into the hangar with all the faux-confidence they could muster to give the impression they could be there and were unchallenged for all of thirty seconds before a lead squire took note of them and strolled over. There was some confusion and contention from the man at the unknown squires and guards that had just entered until he really scrutinized the burley man in coveralls.

"Shit, arent you?" Was all it took before five enemy squires were swarming the woodsman with questions and the team was forgotten.

"Nows our chance, move!" One of the three babel squires hissed and carefully started towards the lighter Manticore mech.

As one squire began to pre-flight the mech, the two others began dragging a belt from a nearby cart with bullets in casings easily as long as either of their forearms and hefted the chain of 37mm rounds into a guide while one of them began arduously pulling a massive levar by hand that with every pull and yank slotted one round into the mech.

While all this was going on, a few men in bright orange Ponchos matching the teams strolled in and out of the rain to see what all the commotion was about. The three men waltzed right up to the team to stand with them clearly assuming they too were as interested as them and began to murmur.

The objective was a simple if critical one. Get the knight into one of the mechs and mobile in the next three minutes to leverage one of the advantages when the fireworks started before the 500 OST marines assaulted a base with ten times their numbers. Considering the squires forming him and the commotion it was causing the clock was ticking dangerously out of their favor.

Not too far from the hangar, Morgan had a similar objective as she and Ares prowled along between buildings. There was at least one Golem in this base, and somehow she too had to locate and kill something designed to counter her before it joined the fray...

 

[Soresu]

Sherry, after everything had broken away from her team for a brief respite. The Qadeshi woman had insisted on looking at the bodies. Noting the visible signs and with each it felt like a knife twisting in her stomach. So during that brief pause and cleaning herself as best she could, her breathing came out in rattling gasps. Then slower and slower. Some mantra running through her all too enhanced mind. During the debriefing, after her momentary respite, Čehrāzād gave them a description of the Golem she and Motts had seen. It had been brief. But thanks to her enhancements, she gave an accurate accounting. A Yuen model. But at mentions of the Macro-type, the scientist dug in further. Going over the various permutations and exploitive weaknesses she could think of.

She owed Morgan a debt for saving her life and those of her sisters. And wanted to give them any edge she could. Cybernetics had been the bread and butter of her people. The Gol using some of what they produced. Amongst other things.

But now? Wearing an orange poncho and playing pretend behind enemy lines. With the enemy standing right beside her. The scientist was tall. Standing over six feet with her darkly tanned skin and light silver-blonde hair and sapphire eyes. Clearly a product of gene modification. Looking at them, she murmured.

“Came for a look too?” came her measured question.

One of those three squires, a female red-haired firebrand of a lass straight from the small city of Rathcroghan, had been amongst the group. And now almost merrily she began the pre-flight checks. Artemis wanted to hum as she worked. But not wanting to cause a stir merely did so in her head. The twenties-something foul-mouthed girl had always been a deft hand at rock-paper scissors and won on getting into the mech while the others got the job of lugging the ammo. The HUD’s ammunition counter went up at a steady if slow, pace of one at a time. While she could theoretically load the belt quick time it’d cause a commotion.

But, as each round they loaded, and she loaded one herself, timing it with them as inconspicuously as possible. Not as fast as all at once, but quicker than just a single round at a time. But she lamented the fact it wouldn’t be her stomping around and cackling like a witch with guns blazing. Still, it’d be a fine sight to see Woodsy work.