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Mamertine Son
R.E.B.E.L.S
53
   |
Posted - 2013.08.07 14:40:00 -
[1] - Quote
The Tank that was supposedly supporting them from the rear turned into a worthless mess of twisted, melting armor. He didn't see it and, in his plated assault suit, sure as hell didn't feel it but could imagine the pillar of fire as the market lit up and metal chunks of vehicle danced across the cobbled road and smashed into shop windows. He ducked behind a building before a piece of rail gun could take off his head. It cartwheeled over the street and landed a couple of meters away glowing hot red as if just cooling off from a sustained round of fire. Com chatter erupted with positions of enemy fire but his suit's visuals were screened by debris and ash. Not a single hostile flared on his map. He tried to get up, mercenaries scattered as concrete walls crumbled around the burning shell of their tank, but his left leg was too sluggish and he stumbled against a pillar of rubble. A shard of debris jutted out of his knee [ I couldn't resist] and he cursed under his breath. His suit was fitted with pain dampeners and had already went to work dulling his nerve receptors. The corp had recently outfitted a section of his company with the nano machines as part of a trial run for the new modules and the man who pitched the idea swore all over his good reputation about their effectiveness. He may not have felt the dagger fillet his leg but the dampeners were having the unfortunate side effect of hampering his offensive power.
He heard the clattering of gunfire but their was still nothing on the map and the street was blanketed in smoke. HQ's frantic demands for details came over the chat network before suddenly cutting out along with the tactical map and multiple readouts on his assault suit's HUD. Someone was jamming their connection to tacnet and now all he had left was his suit's personnel profiler and the unit's intercom to help him uproot their attackers.
Thirty minutes earlier his unit dropped off in a forested zone about half a kilometer away from target. Corp intel reported a wide main street wound its way up the middle of the town ending at a large stone compound. The executives figured a hulking mass of armor, shields, and hot fiery death might help cow the locals so they signed off on a low tier fitted tank to join the mission. A minor mining company contracted them out saying a small problem had developed on one of their outlying planetary installations. An employee strike wasn't much to deal with so they all ambled around the LZ comfortably joking with one another. He checked his gear and re-checked the systems on his drop suit while he waited for the green light and their promised armored support.
The HUD came up easily, the sounds of a successful start up check clicked reassuringly through his audio output. He played with a scrambler pistol running shielded fingers along its smooth barrel and recalled the dimly lit de-briefing room. A pale blue glow splashed over the faces of station operators working around the few wall terminals and a singular wide holo map that dominated the center floor. He stared distractedly at an etherial blue town that sprawled over one of the only hills in the jungle's landscape. The stone compound sat proudly at its apex looking suspiciously more like a castle than a worker's union HQ.
"Our client just needs us to put on a little showGǪ" A director said carefully trying to gauge how much he had actually heard till that point. The majority of his time with the company he spent as a regular grunt running missions under various squad commanders now they were planning to give him command of an entire unit. He wanted to puke all over the holo map and desperately wanted to find himself a seat. The new assignment turned his stomach, not that he craved the rations ship side, but he managed to miss the first meal of his shift and now his belly felt like iron.
"Sir?" He was cautious of how far he drew a questioning tone in front the corps director Marc Frowething who eyed him accusingly. He was notoriously picky about the paramilitary chain of command throughout the corporation and tuning out during a de-brief was close enough to insubordination. Frowething's arguments almost always included "If we're to be taken seriously as a legitimate mercenary service vendorGǪ " and was still hustling the CEO to fine members for not properly saluting corps officers with little success. The corporation was starving for respect and contracts the past couple of months. Out of the void appeared a message from Theurophoi Mining Solutions Co. and the executives jumped at the chance to deploy some of their battle starved soldiers. From what everyone was saying it sounded as if accounting spent only a week negotiating terms before receiving confirmation from the chief to agree to an embarrassingly low price. Set now on a mission to pacify a mob of disenfranchised mine workers and a cheap contract it was curious how exactly Frowething planned to get the big mercs to take their corporation seriously.
A young secretary handed him a small holo pad. Her eyes flitted over his face for an instant, she wore a basic office military uniform, her hair was caught up in a tight bun and he detected a conservative hint of perfume so appallingly different than the acrid smell of charred clone. He could feel her asking at his age before she returned to her post at Frowething's side but he took the pad and returned a dead stare. In his line of work the total years spent living were meaningless next to the time a man invested as a merc or even loyalty to a mercenary corp but that look always made him wonder himself. He tried to recall the last time he glanced over his own records. Having been with two corporations prior to signing up with the Mamertines, he was 22 years old when they made him immortal and after almost a decade of dying then re-awakening stiff and heavy into a reanimation chamber he since stopped counting birthdays. |
Mamertine Son
R.E.B.E.L.S
59
|
Posted - 2013.08.08 13:36:00 -
[2] - Quote
"That's a mission spec, soldier." He knew what it was. It took an idiot to thumb up and down a data pad and still not understand what he was staring at. "You have been given command of over two dozen membersGǪ ". That part was new and he was still trying to adjust his head to the thought of leading other mercs. They were men and women he worked and drank with panning their corps leaders into their drinks during both occupations. He was't sure why they would listen if he told them to walk through a hail of gunfire.
"And a tank?" His forefinger hovered over the glowing green word, madrugar. He tapped the screen, a fit spec blipped on, and there wasn't much there. They were giving him a poorly fit piece of armor but even that was a lot for a mission that amounted to little more than thug work. Frowething gave him a cold look probably wishing he could rip one of the terminals off the wall and kill the cloned merc in front of him.
"I respectfully demand, recruit, that you hold any and all comments until the end of the briefing. Of course you can file complaints regarding the mission at any time but they take upwards of 26 hours to process." Unfortunately for the merc, corporate decided to hot drop this on him 7 hours before they loaded out. "Now where was I?"
"You were just about done telling the boy to go bust some knee caps." Corp director Ed Connel walked in with no attendants and comfortably dropped a hand on Frowething's shoulder. He usually went about alone or flanked by subordinates and loudly admitted to actively avoiding executive company preferring to spend most of his time with the boisterous mercenaries and almost all of his time soliciting the personnel psycho management director, Ellen Labrin. Today he wasn't alone. A woman entered with him and although she dressed in a standard station, faded blue, uniform her singular pin below her left shoulder broadcasted her elite slot in the corporation's roster. She stood firm and at attention beside the director. Frowething glared at Ed Connel but maintained a cool smile slowly excavating the director's hand off his person.
"Actually, Mr. Connel, I was just getting started but thank you for your apt reminder. However, I wasn't aware we needed more than one officer to de-brief a mission commander."
"There's plenty you're not aware of Marc, that's why I'm here." Frowething continued to smile and did his very best not to cringe at the sound of his own first name. Ed Connel hardly seemed to notice and sported a grin. With dusty brown hair just starting to grey and an easy composure he shared with everyone the mercenary found himself liking the director's company even from the first night he sat next to him at the station cantina. "Samuel Banner, allow me to introduce Dani Finch, she'll be under your command for the coming mission". The director made a small yet grandiose gesture to the soldier at his side and she calmly shook the mercenary's hand. Dani Finch. After all his time with the Mamertines he barely managed to memorize a single name and those he did were aliases matched with keen reputations but 'Dani Finch' he remembered. She was a lot less spectacular than he expected. Short cut hair, buzzed probably a week ago made her look nearly a man, and brown eyes but they could have been pale blue with the amount of steel they shot at him. By all standards she was a fresh member of the corporation having joined only a year ago yet she killed and maimed her way to the elite corps in nearly half that time.
"Hawkeye Finch, thank you." The mercenary insisted. Some mercs guarded their aliases jealously; he hardly saw how it mattered. She gave him a funny look, which made him quickly check the goofy expression that was splayed across his face, and he took a second to pick his jaw off the floor.
"You look a little nervous, Banner." Connel said jokingly.
"That's probably because she'sGǪ " Frowething started, attempting to divorce the volume of his voice from his rising temper. Samuel Flipped through the data again. He was certain her name would have shone like a beacon among the dozens of regular corporation mercenaries but he could find the name Finch anywhere, not even on logistical support.
"She's not on the mission roster." He said out loud interrupting his corp director for the second time but he didn't see his face, too distracted to look at anything other than her and the spec in his hands. A tank and now an elite warrior. The Mamertines may not have had a contract in months but that doesn't mean the directors should forget what it means to run a simple mission on a mining planet. Peace time is a very poor period for every corporation save for the big alliance corps and soldiers got easily itchy waiting around for the next fight, if the executives wanted a few of their best to stretch their legs they should send in the whole damn elite platoon. What was corporate thinking setting a simple squad member to handle their only contract? If they were so desperate to impress their only employer they should just let him and the rest of his lot back to the cantina where they can waste their last remaining coinage on cheap station alcohol.
"And that's why I've come, to break the good news."
"I wasn't informed." Frowething's rouse of serenity broke and was now deploying a visual scowl at Ed Connel.
"Of course you weren't" Connel tossed a little poison in his quick remark. "This was a last minute detail. MissGǪ Hawkeye here is really just going to consultGǪ"
"You mean babysit." Banner wasn't their elite merc but he saw right through the smoke and mirrors the directors so liked to play. |
Mamertine Son
R.E.B.E.L.S
61
|
Posted - 2013.08.09 14:25:00 -
[3] - Quote
He understood they wanted the mission to go smoothly and put on a nice show for the mining company without wasting the effort and resources. No corporation could throw their top fighters at a tiny operation without looking pathetic and desperate, but the executives were desperate and, for them, this one job meant survival more than money. They set up a mission appropriate team but were making damn sure it carried a small supply of insurance. He had been fighting alongside the Mamertines for a few years and not once caught a hint of an advancement coming. Now they were giving him hist first shot at command only to learn real control had already been handed off to someone who barely joined a year ago and that he was just there to cover the corporation's reputation.
"Did I say that? I don't recall calling our dear Miss Finch anything other than what she is, Sam, your tactical consultant." His smile dwindled. Perhaps too much time around Frowething began to cull his mood.
"Oh, don't give me that Ed, I know what's going."
"Do you now?" His smile now absent.
"Yeah, I'm getting used like a hand towel. I don't know how you can call this good news when what you're actually telling me is that you're handing off a simple job to an elite." He let his voice get ahead of him, the low hum of operators at work froze, and he could feel all the ears around him. "What, does the board really lack that much faith in me?"
"She's just there to shadow you, that's nothing to get worked up about."
"Stop treating me like some freshy, I've been with this corp for 4 years alone which doesn't include all my other battlefield experience that everyone seems to ignore, and sheGǪ " He pointed directly at Hawkeye Finch but she didn't even fidget. "She's been doing this for a little under a year and still gets more preferential than actual veterans." His face felt hot, still pointing at the mercenary looking as dumb as a man yelling at concrete. He knew the thought hanging in everyone's head; 'because she's that good'.
"That's enough Banner." Frowething seemed to puff out his chest a little, easily slipping into his director's role. "Mr. Connel, I'm going to speak with the board and see if we can't get this insubordinate ingrate off of mission command. Maybe they'll let Miss Finch to take over which they should've done in the first placeGǪ "
"No, No Marc, That's not necessary." Connel looked slightly nervous like he was trying to dance out of the way of an oncoming LAV and gave his fellow director a most winning smile. "I'll handle this." Taking Samuel Banner by the shoulders he rushed him out of the briefing room and into the closest antechamber, a room lit pale yellow by surrounding wall lights and filled with broken terminals. The mercenary offered little protest wanting an excuse to escape but, by that point, craved to return to his room. Finch followed and with a small signal secured the door behind her.
|
Mamertine Son
R.E.B.E.L.S
62
|
Posted - 2013.08.09 14:41:00 -
[4] - Quote
"Ok, I get that you're upset". Banner wasn't certain. He was trying to calm his breathing, his hands either shaking from lack of carbohydrates or pride. He just threw a tantrum in front of two directors, an elite, a boatload of station workers and now all he wanted was to clamber back into the cantina and drown himself in a drink that was probably processed in someone's bathtub. He desperately wanted to get away from the woman by the door but Finch stood against it calmly with arms folded, she was a stoic statue the moment she came into the briefing room.
"Its fine, Connel, just send me back to my quarters for some rest. Maybe I can get Labrin to prescribe me some more of her pills." He could hardly sleep without them lately and would definitely need their aid now.
"Oh harden up you little bastard [  ], you are getting paid for this you know? Do you understand how much flak I've taken this week alone just for recommending you for this mission, our corporation's only contract?" Banner looked him in the eyes trying his best to focus but his head felt like water. It was especially comforting to know that the man had to beg and plead the board to let him lead a basic thug operation. "And on top of all that no one knows what to expect on that planet." Connel kept his voice down looking hard at the confused merc but he didn't understand. often corp intel did a messy job at best but nobody ever ran blind once they went planet side.
"Wait, what do you mean, didn't C.I. check over the job?"
"That they did. I was being dramatic but I'm glad I broke through your stupor." The corp director grinned a little but he was simply lost wondering if he should punch Connel through the wall. Detecting his dismay Finch dislodged herself from the door.
"What he means to say is that the mining company fed us bad information yet C.I. seemed to gloss over it during the negotiations."
"Right, thank you Miss Finch. She was the one who picked up on the discrepancies. We're still not sure if Theurophoi Mining whatever even is a legitimate company to begin with but our intel group didn't manage to fully background them. By the time anyone knew where the sky was our genius C.E.O. had already signed the contract." He said 'didn't manage' but it felt more like the guys in C.I. didn't try.
"So what, you're telling me they're following through with it?" Though he knew the answer after he'd said it. Once a contract was signed it was near sacrilege to break it even if the legal team could dig up a loophole. A corporation's ability to solicit work rode on its reputation to follow through with a job just as much as its capacity for killing and no one wanted to hire a band of mercenaries that wouldn't hold their end of a bargain. Connel simply shrugged.
"I went to the C.E.O. to try and talk sense. I told him the whole thing stank so bad of deceit it made me choke. Finch did some digging on our employer and found their name in multiple records across a dozen planets dating at least 8 yearsGǪ" That sounded mostly legit. "Then there's this big gap of nothing until a year ago when they start showing up again on only a few frontier planets. They started receiving a lot of funds from unknown 3rd party investors and only a small portion of the money went towards construction, the remainder, for all we know, is stashed comfortably in someone's bank account. Of course the rest of the board didn't want to hear a word of it. Didn't stop me from trying to bludgeon it into them."
"How many of those members do you believe were actually lobbying for it?" He knew what he was suggesting was nothing less than conspiracy and perhaps it was beyond presumptuous to start accusing officers of such scandal but in their universe a spy or a rogue director was anything but uncommon.
"That's the thing, who knows?" The director licked his lips nervously attempting to forestall a vicious grin but that was all the man could do to contain it. "Then again, why would anyone want to directly attack a small group like the Mamertines?" He was right, it didn't make sense considering even their rivals would barely profit from it. To spend all of that money on a phantom company just to embarrass or potentially destroy their puny mercenary band was absurd but didn't exclude the probability of a disgruntled member. Inter corp politics has always played its rather large part in the destruction of some of the most notorious groups and it didn't seem to take much these days to make a board executive plot against his C.E.O. or his entire corporation. Even then, all the scandals that erupted onto the news feeds, there was always something the perpetrator gained from his attack. The Mamertines were already hanging so close to the edge of the blade of extinction that it wouldn't even make a poor man famous.
"I don't knowGǪ " The director seemed to enjoy the answer edging in closer to the mercenary.
"Don't you want to find out?" |
Mamertine Son
R.E.B.E.L.S
155
|
Posted - 2013.08.16 17:41:00 -
[5] - Quote
The director was so near he could feel the man's breath on his neck. Finch was still, her face blank as she sized him up from the corner impossible for him to read. He tried to appear confident.
"I pushed hard for the tank you're getting, you should really thank me, it was harder to have approved than you. Finch, on the other hand, is my own personal addition, you understand?" Connel looked at him hard, it was the first time he had noticed the wrinkles that had begun to creep behind the man's eyes.
"No one knows she's going, not even the chief, well, except of course the idiot still standing out there. She's good, a bit catatonic," the woman said nothing, "but whatever you're walking into she's going to walk you out of it."
"You didn't think this through EdGǪ"
"Someone has to go, its done, the chief signed it and now someone has to spring the trap and you're the one we chose."
"Pick someone else, it doesn't sound like they wanted me anyway." The man sucked air between his teeth.
"Sam, buddy, all of my fellow board members have begun reviewing select individual's contract records." His heart fell into his abdomen. "We've discussed yours a couple of times already." Under the financial stress the ceasefire was putting on them he should have known the corporation would look to downsize. "I can keep defending you but I'm starting to sound like your grandad. You have to show some performance this time around or else I can't guarantee they won't cut you." Ejected for the third time? That alone would make it hard to find another job. Cloned mercenaries were often declared the immortal gods of New Eden possessing the ability to change bodies quicker than they could change their assault suits. Of course no one mentioned the price tag glued under each death or the monolithic factories it took to pump out humans like they were sugar candies.
Consciousness transfer was governed by at least 3 other external facilities that either checked, appropriated, or finalized a single reanimation. Someone needed to press the button that made certain he landed in the right body in the correct part of the universe. Without the funds or an approved merc license his implants were just another chunk of metal they jammed into his head. He sighed and pulled at his own hair.
"That's not much of a choice I'm getting is it?"
"You're the moron that sold yourself to this business, not me." He glanced back at Finch. "I guess that makes you pretty dumb too, eh?" She gave them a ghostly look. Nothing seemed to register with her or perhaps it just never made it to the surface but he thought he caught the wisps of a curt smile shadow the edges of her face.
Thinking back to it now he wasn't sure what she really found more amusing, Connel's comment or the gun she was planning to plant against his head.
//=<<>=<><>===<>>=================//==<<>==<><>==<>>==//================<<>===<><>=<>>=//
He extracted the shard of tank out of his knee, a funny twinge ran up his thigh as his body attempted to register pain but only came up with a chemical drunk response, and shoved the needle into the blood bubbling gash before his suits nano-machines could seal up the breach in his armor. White hot foam erupted into the wound and turned a sickly pink. At least he wouldn't bleed out before he could figure out what happened.
Fuzzy cries for a medic came over the unit chat. They still had local comms but with the link to HQ broken he had no way of calling in air support or a fresh tank. Gun fire crackled across the rubble strewn street as he saw their flashes from the windows. He groped through the dust for his rifle pushing rocks and crumbled cement but his weapon was pinned to the floor in front of him, speared through by a jagged twisted lance of what might have once been someone's railing. He pushed himself to cover as enemy fire sprayed debris wildly around him.
They had been waiting for them in the shadows of their own market and now they held the vantage over his unit's position. The only thing that kept them alive was a thick cloudy haze that the initial blast spewed out blanketing every apartment in its vicinity, but that was clearing fast. He could almost see the others dragging wounded over broken glass and behind corners. Most would probably make it but the tanker and his unlucky partners were definitely clone vapor.
He called over his comms but could barely get an answer besides panic and the cries of still living casualties. The operation had fallen apart and their only way back was a wall of hell fire and buildings turned to mountains. He thought of the alleyways but they would be just as trapped there. A soldier started screeching over his lost arm as another ordered the nearest merc to shut him up. The soldier's comm went dead. He tried Finch but she wasn't responding either lost or perhaps fled the battle after the tank lit up in flames.
He pulled out his scrambler pistol and gently rested it beneath his chin. It was a powerful weapon and would quickly tear through his shields and cook his brains. He almost felt the white hot plasma fill his helmet as he placed a finger on the trigger but he didn't pull. It was the fastest way he knew to abandon a botched operation and certainly cleaner than dying desperately clinging to a lost limb.They were ambushed, surely the directors would understand, but he knew he would take all the blame; after all, that's why they put him there in the first place. Death now might actually end his life this time. |
Mamertine Son
R.E.B.E.L.S
160
|
Posted - 2013.08.16 20:14:00 -
[6] - Quote
A rifle opened up a barrage from the window above tearing a curtain to shreds as more comm signals blackened on his HUD. He felt naked praying his grey armor would blend into the ruins. The smooth sidearm glinted under the sun as broad daylight splashed over the street broadcasting anyone found under its mastery. He aimed up and discharged the clip into the window. Glass shattered and he heard the thud of dead weight hitting hard furniture. The automatic weapon clattered onto the cobbled stone spraying sparks upon impact. It was Minmatar tech, bulky and mechanical looking with parts practically pasted on, hardly passing for military grade.
Enemy eyes were on him now but the assault rifle was out of reach. He still had time to reload the pistol but his fingers fumbled at his belt and the air felt slower even as time seemed to speed too fast for him to think. A soldier darted out into the street; one of the mercs. Plumes of dust and shattered stone popped around their feet from oncoming projectiles as they weaved around bloody bodies their drop-suit shields glimmered blue absorbing the shots. They lifted what first appeared to be a black pillar off the market street, its silhouette was long against the sun, but he recognized it from the large barrel and the shadow of its smooth green tail.
Dani Finch steadied the massive Allotek plasma cannon on her shoulder as blue tendrils licked at the stones from the last drop of her shields sputtering out. He heard a short click and red orange fire lurched from the weapon's barrel kicking up a cloud as it arced at a two story apartment. The cannon's full payload poured through every orifice of the building's second floor blowing out charred furnishing and human remnants from its portals and cleaving it down the middle leaving a glowing black hole at its center.
The cannon hissed and ejected a circular disk onto the floor with a clank. She stood like a god carrying a great serpent, her armor gleaming gold in the sunlight, and smoke billowed around her. The market went silent as she grabbed another dusty blood covered plasma charge, reloaded and turned to stare down another building. Their ambushers were stunned but some fired frantically from their post while others clambered out the side access.
He ran for the Minmatar rifle and swept it off the floor but it was light, too light, in his hands. The clip was empty. His shields sizzled against the wild barrage and red misted around Finch as bullets hit her naked armor. She barely flinched except at the recoil of the cannon. The air sucked and pumped kicking him off balance. Another apartment imploded under the plasma's raw ferocity and vomited its guts onto the market floor. |
Mamertine Son
R.E.B.E.L.S
172
|
Posted - 2013.08.19 15:26:00 -
[7] - Quote
Eris Ernaga wrote:reading now and 1st
Many thx 
Hope you enjoy! |
Mamertine Son
R.E.B.E.L.S
211
|
Posted - 2013.08.22 18:13:00 -
[8] - Quote
Her body heaved and she let the monstrous cannon loll off her shoulder cracking the stone. Punctures to her torso and thighs weeped visibly as she fell to her knees breathing heavily. She was gasping over the comms as her head slowly greeted her chest. Her comm went black.
"Is she dead?"
"Cover the buildings you idiots!" He ordered.
"What buildings, You mean the ones Finch just turned to ash?" He didn't load out with any triage and by this point he guessed the tactical foam wouldn't do her any good. He took her arm over the base of his neck and tried bearing her weight but her plated knees scraped the cobbled road. He'd see men haul wounded onto their backs across a battlefield before but even with his suit's natural augmentations he would have had an easier time flipping an over turned LAV.
"Great job you're doing there."
"Just shut up and give me a hand!" A couple mercenaries helped him drag the warrior's broken body into a shelled out shop. If she really died her mind would jump to a new host clone and she'd wake back up in command. She would stand in front of HQ and tell them what happened. How they were ambushed and how she bravely held them off burning a quarter of the town with the attackers while he lay huddled in the ruins. That was too much contrast for him to handle and enough testimonies had certainly made it back already to mark how he personally botched the mission. He couldn't allow that and with a frustrated grunt he almost single handedly tossed the woman onto a rough wooden table. Her arms hung limply around the table's rim and red smeared its surface.
"Let the poor girl die, I think she's done enough." Brain trauma was limited so he still had time. He grabbed a needle from somewhere and mercilessly shoved it into her breast. He waited praying to anything the little machines actually did their job as advertised. His hands rasped the wooden edges of the table pulling it to splinters.
"Banner, pal, the mission's over." Sreer, a tall lithe soldier, went to rest a hand on his shoulder "We'll just off ourselves here, go home and call it a day, grab a drink somewhere. What do you say?" Through the armor plates his hand felt like ice.
"No." He said it with as much commanding confidence as he could gather into one word. They weren't going home. Not unless someone painted the entire town with the contents of his skull. "She just saved the mission and now we need her. We'll consolidate our strength here then push onwards to the compound. Without HQ holding our hands, " against a readied foe, success was close to impossible, " we'll have to gather intel ourselves and use tighter coordination." A lot more mercenaries than was proper ran ops like they were fighting in a public Caldari arena which was fine when the field was pitted with small bastions that could pump the dead back into battle but their messy operation didn't come with a clone reanimation unit. No one was supposed to die.
"Are you touched? We just lost our tank, you know, our only one."
"We still have her."
"She's gone too! Don't you get it? They laid a trap for us, a real ambush, and you know what that means? They're organized, they knew we were coming and what we were bringing. These psychopaths, who were supposed to be simple strikers yelling at us and waving signs, have guns and explosives."
"We came with guns too, remember?"
"You're missing the point. This is ****** up. Someone seriously ****** the hell up. These peasants weren't supposed to have weapons, Banner, and where the hell did they get the firepower to blow an 80 ton vehicle to pieces, huh?" The soldier was right and the mercs around him were thinking it too.
"I'm an immortal soldier and I have a job to do. Even if I have to face drone's or rail-guns or the whole damn town I'm going to get this done. Your job is to shut up and follow me." Sreer whipped out his sidearm and for half a heartbeat he felt the muzzle glare at him but the weapon didn't rise higher than the man's thigh, left to threaten the floorboards instead. Control was slipping fast.
"I'm a mercenary, I get to choose the jobs I want to do." It was nothing short of mutiny.
"As mission commander I'm ordering you to holster your weapon." Sreer lifted the pistol to his head. "Damn you for making me pull this card. If you abort the mission without my ok you can expect some pretty hard push back from corporate, I'll make damn sure of it."
"Get off your power trip. I'm out. Anyone else who feels the same can come with me."
"If you do it you'll die." A woman's voice curled over comms. She was awake, hunched while a medic worked on her abdomen extracting slugs with a small handheld device. For a moment he only heard the whizzing of the device as it dully magnetized the metal shards and slipped it out of the soldier's flesh. That's kind of the point. "You misunderstand, " He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud, "If you terminate yourself now you won't transfer to a new host- thank you." She slid off, rolled her joints and arched her back. Someone handed her a rifle and everyone's plated visors followed the warrior's hands as she checked its weight, flipped it around, and cocked the firearm. |
Mamertine Son
Kinsho Swords
Caldari State
259
|
Posted - 2013.09.25 18:54:00 -
[9] - Quote
"What are you saying?" Sreer's gun fell back to his side but his defiant tone held. She didn't seem to hear.
"Quite an offensive you ran out there, Mr. Banner." Was that sarcasm?
"Answer me Finch, don't just throw bull around like that!" She stared straight at Sreer and the tall man flinched as she poked her index into his breastplate and pulled her thumb down like the hammer of a combustion fueled pistol. What the hell was that about?
"If you noticed, tacnet shutdown," everyone noticed that "and with it our connection to HQ. If you ran diagnostics you would know this has nothing to do with a jammer." His suit quickly executed the routine releasing a deluge of meaningless data onto his HUD but no red flags. "There are about 9 different errors that should appear but don't and the implant has been quietly routed to some foreign receiver." That line was also a mess of green dashes and letters that read as much like gibberish as the rest of systemGÇÖs diagnostic readout. "Whatever they set up isn't blocking HQ, itGÇÖs hacked each of our systems individually and has been lying to our implants probably since we landed."
GÇ£ThatGÇÖs a lie.GÇ¥
GÇ£Is it? That gun in your hand. Give it a try and call me when you wake up.GÇ¥ Sreer stood his ground but said nothing. She looked out a shatter window and beckoned two members to her side or what was left of their sniper support. GÇ£I need eyes on top of that buildingGÇ¥ she pointed to the recently burnt out husk. GÇ£Get up there but donGÇÖt shoot at anything, weGÇÖre not getting paid per kill. Any movement, civilian or otherwise call it out. Distance, direction, like youGÇÖre actually good at this.GÇ¥
GÇ£Understood.GÇ¥
GÇ£What are you doing?GÇ¥
GÇ£You two get out there and cover them. Right now theyGÇÖre our last valuable asset make sure they get there alive.GÇ¥ The men whisked out onto the market street and the crunching and scrambling of their armored boots trailed off.
GÇ£I said, what do you think youGÇÖre doing?GÇ¥ she sighed over comms, exasperated, everyone could hear it.
GÇ£The map and any intel handed from HQ is now worthless, we need to rely on conventional methods of recon.GÇ¥
GÇ£Says who?GÇ¥
GÇ£Honestly, is this really the time to act petty?GÇ¥
GÇ£This is my mission, Finch. Check the roster again and look at the top, whoGÇÖs name is sitting there? Not yours, mine.GÇ¥
GÇ£YouGÇÖre doing this, youGÇÖre really doing this now? Ok, Banner, lets lay it out like it is. You were put in charge to put down a factory revolt, authorized to intimidate with minimal force and no casualties to either side. IGÇÖm here in case half our team and our armored asset gets liquidated by a pack of peasants so as far as everyone is concerned, including corporate, IGÇÖm now in charge. Anyone here care to dispute that?GÇ¥
Aside from Sreer holstering his side arm the room was as quiet as the street outside. Some native fowl cawed at each other over the apartments and a few swooped onto the corpses shoving their toothy beaks between the armor and fabric around their joints. Their feathered tails wriggled in the air as they fed. He should have left her with the rest of them.
"Alright then." |
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