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| | Also see: [[Reaper's First Drop]] | | Also see: [[Reaper's First Drop]] |
| | ---- | | ---- |
| | + | '''23:04 Hours, December 11, 2012 (Military Calendar), a crowded bar, Miami, Florida.''' |
| | | | |
| − | '''19:46 Hours, December 11, 2012 (Military Calendar), them Embassy, Paris, France''' | + | ''"Hands off, creep!"'' |
| | | | |
| − | When Matt came to, he panicked at first. He couldn't see a thing. Then he realized the power was out, and his vision was still fuzzy. Matt got shakily to his feet and sucked in a huge breath of air.
| |
| | | | |
| − | And instantly coughed it back up. The air was laden with dust and debris. As soon as he had cleared his lungs, he sucked in another breath and yelled “Report!” as loudly as he could.
| + | Matt Kenderson looked up. There was a white guy in baggie pants with a backward hat standing over Holly, his hands on either side of her blocking her escape."Hey! Get away from her!" |
| | | | |
| − | No one answered. Matt looked around in the dim, moon-lit room: Hullo, it was night now. How long had they been out? His head, jaws, and ears were aching as if someone had sledgehammered his head and then driven two blunt spikes below his ears.
| + | At six feet, 180 pounds, Matt was an imposing sight, made even more so by his three friends backing him up. First and foremost was Jamie Campbell. The other two, girls, Scarlett Miller, known to them as Scar, and Holly Dayne, the one the man in the hoodie had been messing with. |
| | | | |
| − | Then, by his feet, Jamie groaned, muttering something about his head. Matt grasped his hand and helped him up. “The crap was all that?” He asked fuzzily.
| + | Jamie stepped in front of Scar, placing himself between her and the man as well as next to Matt in case he should need back up. |
| | | | |
| − | “A bomb.” Matt answered simply.
| + | The hoodie guy scowled. "What, are you gonna rough me up, punk?" And at that, Hoodie's posse appeared and stood at the guy's shoulder, arms crossed. Matt rolled his eyes. Here they went with the whole macho-scripted clichés. |
| | | | |
| − | He stood dizzily, leaning against a desk, while Matt stooped and gently shook Holly's light frame. She jerked on the third time and started coughing. Matt smiled encouragingly, then did the same with Scarlett.
| + | "We're kinda hoping it won't come to that." Jamie growled. "For your sake." |
| | | | |
| − | Matt looked around again and spotted Carter, half-buried under a desk. Matt dug him out, then looked down at Morrison. Definitely dead. His whole body was charred and he was missing his right leg. Real pretty. Matt crossed the Major's arms over his chest and closed his eyes, but there wasn't much else for him to do.
| + | "Watch your mouth, buddy. You must be what, sixteen?" The posse chuckled. They were all above 21. |
| | | | |
| − | Matt's watch had been smashed in the blast, but his helmet, which was laying a few yards away next to a demolished support column, was still functioning. Matt slipped it back on, and the illuminated HUD informed him that it was 20:00 Hours. Eight o' clock PM.
| + | "Yeah. That just makes it all the more humiliating when I mail your butt back to you in a pringles can." Jamie continued. |
| | | | |
| − | Matt handed Carter his helmet, a rifle, and shook him fully awake. He cursed several times, then asked, “What happened? Why aren't we dead?”
| + | "That's it, punk. Lemme teach you a lesson." |
| | | | |
| − | Matt shifted uncomfortably. “Um, well...” | + | "I wouldn't advise that." Matt said, stepping in front of Jamie before he dropped the guy. |
| | | | |
| − | Jamie shook his head clear. “Sarge, you ever heard of Telekinesis?”
| + | "You first! Come on!" The Baggy pants took a swing at Matt. |
| | | | |
| − | Carter looked taken aback. “What about it?”
| + | "He did warn you." Scar sighed before taking a step back. |
| | | | |
| − | Jamie pressed on. “How about the military's Psi Programs?”
| + | After having ducked under the swing, Matt stepped forward and threw his fist into the man's stomach. The man collapsed to his knee and coughed a couple of times. Hoodie looked up and glared at Matt. Matt stepped in towards the guy and clocked him solidly in the mouth. The hoodie guy tried to rise to his knees, but Matt stepped in again and kicked the guy's ribs. |
| | | | |
| − | “Rumors. Nothing else. It doesn't exist.”
| + | Matt turned to Holly, who had retreated to Scar's side behind Jamie."You okay?" |
| | | | |
| − | “Well, tell that to Matt. Cause he's got it.”
| + | She started to say something when Jamie cut her off |
| | | | |
| − | Matt nodded stoically. “Hurts like hell afterward, though. The other psi-soldiers refer to it as 'Hangover.'” | + | "Matt watch-" It came to late. The man had stood back up and tackled Matt. He was about to punch the teenager when Jamie rammed him into the wall. With that the rest of Baggy Pants' posse jumped in. It became an all out brawl. Matt was taking on two guys while Jamie was backed into a wall fending off three others. Baggy Pants and two others walked towards the girls. |
| − | | + | |
| − | Scar and Holly both stood. Holly was already retrieving her rifle and rummaging through the ruined desks, until she found a laptop in working condition and had retrieved several boxes of ammo. These she loaded into a duffel bag from a broken down closet while Scarlett checked them all over for broken bones.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Matt had two fractured ribs, but Scar quickly bound those with a shredded sheet and a dose of morphine.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | “Hey, bring a shot of that over here!” Jamie said as he emerged from the armory with a combat pack filled with weapons and ammo, and four more for the rest of them, similarly laden. Matt took one look at Jamie and decided not to ever let him have morphine. He locked glances with Scar and shook his head. She grinned. “Sorry, Jamie. Take it up with the boss.”
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | “Since when was he the boss?” Matt asked, but he was kind of pleased.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | “Since you were the first up. Sir.” Holly said, handing Matt the laptop in a padded case. He took it and slung it over Matt shoulder, grinning disarmingly at her. “he've always been somewhat of a morning person.”
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | “Sergeant, they need to move. Can you manage?” Holly asked. Carter hadn't fared as well as the rest of them. His skull was fractured in two places and his ankle was sprained. Scar was fixing him up, but he needed to rest in a surgery suite for a while and have real doctors take care of him. Morrison had explained that the Fleet's V-22 Ospreys sent to pick them up would leave at midnight, in order to avoid any AA fire.
| + | |
| − | They had four hours to get to the coast. Carter would only slow them down, but there was no question of leaving him behind.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | He grunted as Scar secured the splint on his ankle. “Yeah, yeah he can manage.”
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Matt looked at the Sergeant's heavily bandaged foot and said, “he guess he'm driving.”
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Carter tossed Matt the keys to the Humvee, and he hopped into the driver's seat as Jamie manned the MG. Carter rode shotgun, in order to give directions. Scar hopped in the back, while Holly hailed the open comm.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | “Any American units left in Paris, this is Private Holly Dayne, at the them Embassy. Repeat, any American forces respond.”
| + | |
| − | Almost instantly, another voice hit the comm. “Roger, Private Dayne, this is Corporal Richards, traveling with Private Davis. they're at the Embassy as well. Is Morrison still out there?”
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | “Negative on that, Richards.” Carter answered directly. “they're at the garage, can you make it here?”
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | “Yes sir. they're coming down.”
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Another voice answered the hail. “Sarge, is that you?”
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | “Roger. Who am he speaking with?”
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | “Private Collins. he'm up at the registration desks. he've got two more soldiers with Matt here, they're unconscious. he've got French squads mobilizing on the front door. Need immediate advisement.”
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | “Roger that, Collins. they're sending a man up. Lock the doors and grab a soldier, meet them down at the garage.”
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Meanwhile, Holly had been coordinating with another squad trapped out in the city, with another two squads hailing. This was chaos.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | “Kenderson, get up to the front desk. See what you can do to get those soldiers down here. You've got about five minute before those Frenchie squads clear the barricade. Campbell, armory. Load up as many packs as you can carry with a rifle, an extra helmet, and some ammo. Leave the rest of the armor, its too heavy. Dayne, stay on the radio. See who else is out there, tell them they'll meet up at the garage here. But they're leaving in half an hour.”
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | “Half an hour, sir?” Holly asked incredulously. “The Frenchies are gonna be here in five minutes!”
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Carter continued, face contorted in pain. “Miller, start barricading the staircase coming down from lobby. Kenderson, see if you can rig the Embassy doors to explode or something.” he grinned. “As soon as you get those soldiers down here, have them help with the barricade. Miller, get a wake-up dose into them as they come down. Campbell, as soon as you get two loads of packs down here, help out with the barricade.”
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | “Yes sir!” They all said, and scrambled to their separate tasks. Carter followed Jamie into the armory, rifling through his pockets, trying to find something.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Matt sprinted up the stairs to the main lobby. The smiling receptionist had mysteriously gone. Instead there was a single conscious soldier, about eighteen, two years older than Matt, muscling another soldier nearly twice his age and much larger down the hallway to the staircase. Scar hurried up and stuck a syringe full of some liquid into the unconscious soldier, who immediately blinked and started moving again.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Scar hustled over to the second unconscious marine and stuck him too. He didn't move. Scar frowned, checked the pulse, and then threw the guy over her shoulder with a worried look. She muttered a bunch of medical stuff to herself, nodded at Matt, and moved on.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Matt crossed over to the door, a toolbox repair kit that he had taken out of the Humvee in hand.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Carter hobbled up and deposited a satchel of C4 by Matt's. “Have fun.” He told Matt, and limped back downstairs. Matt started wiring the explosive to a spring-and-pulley catch he was setting up, and about a minute later had the whole thing rigged to explode the door when it opened. He stuck a splintered piece of wood through the double handles, to ensure that the Frenchies came crashing through the door and not tentatively open it and not get blasted.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | A slight snick behind Matt raised the hair on the back of his neck, and he instantly responded, grabbing Matt rifle and twisted around, gun leveled at the upper balcony.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | “Whoa, dude!” the Marine shouted. Matt raised an eyebrow. “And you are?”
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | “Private Strayer. Private Dayne called, something about a barricade?”
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | “Yeah, they need you down here. Come on.”
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Right as they were starting for the stairs, another sound reverberated. Matt had seen too many movies and had fired too many guns not to recognize the cold clack of a charging handle being pulled, the bolt in the gun cycled, and the soft, icy press of the barrel in the back of his head.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | A French voice spoke quietly in his ear, like a snake, but Matt gave no attention to translating, even though he spoke basic French. Matt whirled and smacked the barrel of the gun around, threw a left-handed jab. Matt blinked as his fist was intercepted and twisted around, but recovered quickly and countered the counter-strike. The Frenchie locked him into a grapple, and then they were both rolling along the floor, fighting silently for their lives. Every time Matt tried to call out, the Frenchie saboteur either smacked Matt's head or covered his mouth.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Private Strayer, meanwhile, was also grappling with his opponent. He managed a strangled gargle, and Holly's voice sounded in Matt's comm.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | “Matt? Is everything alright up there?”
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Matt hoped his lack of an answer would be a good indicator, and sure enough a second later feet pounded up the stairs, and then Jamie was there with a gun pressed into the saboteur's skull. Jamie pulled the guy off, and Matt held him with his rifle to the Frenchie's chest while Jamie helped out Strayer.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | “Guys, get out of there!” Holly yelled, and a second later a thump hit the door. Matt was faced with a tough decision. Could he really murder these two saboteurs in cold blood, execution fashion, while they stood against a wall?
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Shooting at somebody in the heat of battle was one thing. But to take a man's life, and to see the light in his eyes go out as he knew he was about to die? Matt had always hated firing squads.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Then another thump hit the door, and he knew that wood wouldn't hold for much longer.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Matt decided that he didn't want to become a murderer this early in the war. Matt settled for two shots to each saboteur's chest armor, which served plenty enough force to keep them on the ground for a while at such close range from a G36c rifle. Strayer, Jamie and Matt ran for the barricade at the bottom of the stairs.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | The door burst inward, and half a second later the entire satchel of C4 exploded, vaporizing the first squad at the door.
| + | |
| − |
| + | |
| − | Several more Marines had joined them since Matt had left for the door, and now they had a crew of about 15 marines, including his crew and Carter.
| + | |
| − | Matt fired erratic bursts from his rifle one-handed, suppressing the French squads that came in after the first. The three of them vaulted over the chest-high barricade, and then Carter stepped up and handed Matt a deployable M60 MG. Jamie was likewise armed, and he stepped to the front of the right barricade of the double-staircase that split around an elevator, which had been disabled, the doors welded shut.
| + | |
| − |
| + | |
| − | Matt stepped to the front, the other marines making way as he advanced and opened fire, mounting the MG onto the barricade itself. The ones that weren't riddled with bullets quickly backed up and took peaking shots around the corner, but Matt shredded the wall and several bullets punched through, knocking down targets. Most of them did not rise.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Carter tossed out gleaming metal riot shields, and the Americans quickly made a lethal wall of bullet-proof shields and vicious-looking gun barrels that poked out from between the holes in the line.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | “That's it, sir!” Holly yelled. “No more contacts on the radio. If there are still marines out there, their comms. are busted.”
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | “Roger that. Alright, boys, get to the Humvees. Campbell, Kenderson, hold this line. Wait till the wave ends, then drop the MGs and they'll cover you. Miller and Dayne, wait at the door, then get back here once those two are through. Go!”
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Jamie and Matt held the line. It was a lot different without the 15 marines helping to suppress them, because as soon as the fire had ebbed, three squads advanced down his one line.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Good thing Jamie had rigged the stairs to blow. He had even linked the detonator to a control switch on Matt's armor gauntlet. So instead of fumbling for a detonator, he just reached down and pressed a button on his gauntlet, and about 12 Claymores erupted, 6 on both sides of the staircase, and shredded the three squads coming down.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | The fun thing about Claymores was that it was a purely anti-personnel weapon. They were much less effective against armor, because the killing force of a Claymore came when the small explosive charge scattered the small, round balls that were encased in the housing of the mine at high speeds over an effective range of about three meters, spreading in a shotgun spread pattern. Basically, you got shredded as multiple metal balls ripped through whatever body part they hit.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | That had evened out the crowd, and Matt took up firing again. The squads of marines behind Matt rushed through the door to the garage, and someone threw a grenade up the stairs.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Return fire Swiss-Cheesed the barricade around them, and shots sparked and pinged off Matt's armor. One cut a groove in his jaw, making his heart jump. He was being shot at!
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | The Claymores were dry, Matt was running out of ammo, and that's when he realized Carter had never expected them to survive this. He shrugged and stepped up to the lip of the barricade again, and shouldered the responsibility of saving the other marines in exchange for his own life.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | A kind of, unstoppable fury ignited in Matt as he realized that he was going to die, right here, right now, so early in this twisted war. It had barely begun. And he was ending, at sixteen years old. There was so much more he had wanted to do, so much he wanted to say, to his family, to Jamie, to Scar, most importantly to Holly.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | It wasn't acceptable.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Matt let the fury roll out of him, and a wave of telekinetic force smoothly accelerated up the stairs, tearing at every solid object and blasting it backwards. Millions of invisible darts seemed to shoot up the stairs, shredding every object, every surface, every substance, tearing it apart.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Then there was silence. The rest of the French squads had withdrawn and were milling around in the lobby, not wishing to come down and restart the attack. Good thing too, because that last blast had sucked everything out of Matt. He dropped the MG heavily, and Carter yelled at him over the comm., "Get your butt up here, Kenderson! they're all loaded, you're driving. Campbell, you're gunner, let's move!"
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Holly and Scar had taken up firing positions at the door. So Carter had been planning on them surviving.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Jamie started running all-out for the door, but looked back, saw Matt hobbling along, and sprinted back, throwing Matt's arm over his shoulder and half-dragging him towards the garage. Holly threw another grenade as Scar suppressed the French squads now swarming down the stairs, and then they were on the other side of the door, the girls took a few last parting shots, and then slammed the metal door. Scar was about to shoot the control panel when Matt shook Matt head.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Matt hobbled up to the panel, used his combat knife to pry the cover off, and switched around the wires so that the door alignment was reversed, and the door wouldn't slide open when someone hit the button, but instead try to close further.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | As an added measure Scar wedged a grenade priming-pin-first into the crease of the door, so that even if it did open the grenade would obliterate the first squad.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | They continued hobbling along, and Matt slowly regained his strength. By the time they got to the Humvee, Scar had injected adrenaline and glucose boosters directly into his bloodstream, and he was back near peak capacity. The Hangover would start in about four hours, right after they got onto the Carrier, hopefully.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Matt shook his head clear and got behind the wheel. The rest of the crew filed in, and several more Marines piled into the back. Several other Humvees revved their engines, and then Carter signaled for Matt to take the lead.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Matt gunned the engine and sent them rocketing out the garage. Squads of French soldiers and several armored trucks were heading for the entrance, and Jamie opened fire. The heavy rounds tore through treads and wheels and left them in the dust. Their Humvee convoy was followed by the M1 Abrams tank, and it blasted through whatever was left, accelerating to about 60 miles an hour. Not bad for a multi-ton armored cannon.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Matt tried to keep the speedometer around 60 so the tank could keep up with them as he swerved around corners and burning obstacles. They met with a little more resistance, but each scattered French squad meant somebody radioing where they were, and it didn't take the French commanders long to triangulate their position and to figure out where they were going.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | "Heads up, wing coming in hot an' fast from 5 o clock!" Jamie yelled, and started pouring brass casings. Matt twisted around to look; three Dassault Mirage F1s, France's close-air-support fighters, were leveling out into an attack run.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Even as Matt watched, the lead bird took several hits to the right engine and caught fire, dramatically stopping in mid-air and flipping end-over-end until it blew up, some distance behind and below the two other fighters. Jamie crowed, yelling, "Yeah, Bring it!" and continued his suppressive fire.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | The M1's turret swiveled into position, and an 8-shot Surface-to-Air Missile Box locked target and opened fire. All eight missiles rose and followed the second Mirage, whose pilot quickly sent the agile craft into a steep dive and deployed chaff flares. It dodged the missiles, but it had sacrificed its attack run to do so, and now circled back around to come in again, a clear gain of maybe two minutes, more precious than gold at the moment.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | The heavy beat of the machine gun on the Humvee next to them suddenly cut out, to be followed by a huge WHOOSH as the jeep caught fire and the Mirage's missile detonated. Matt looked back a second later, and saw only a burned-out wreck of a frame; the tires and most of the chassis had been consumed, and the occupants inside, and everything else shredded. Jamie ducked back into our Humvee as the other exploded, throwing deadly metal shrapnel everywhere: as lethal as gunshots.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Matt swerved as another missile buried itself into the gravel and then blew up, carving a huge chunk out of the road and leaving a divot big enough to pass as a tank-trap. The rest of the Humvees and the Abrams circled around it, and then the Mirage was past them, with everyone still firing at it.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Matt consulted his HUD as they sped between sky-scrapers and historic monuments. Just another couple klicks to the beach, and then - what? They couldn't very well take the Humvees out into the open ocean, not to mention the tank and its crew. Were they going to swim for the Carrier? Where was that Osprey?
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | The two Dassault Mirage F1s were now circling in for another attack run, and off in the distance Matt could hear rotor blades, presumably transports bringing more French soldiers. Holly was rummaging around in the ammo compartment of the Humvee as Jamie spewed rounds at the F1's. Someone in another Humvee kicked open a door and fired a heat-seeking missile from a shoulder-launcher at one of the birds, and it peeled off again. These pilots weren't taking any chances.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | "Left here!" Carter shouted suddenly, and Matt threw the jeep into a hard left turn without hesitation. Just ahead he could see an open courtyard of some sort, with multi-leveled apartment buildings and a parking garage surrounding.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | "Need more ammo!" Jamie yelled as the belt ran dry. Holly handed him a particularly larger box of ammo with some words in red stamped on the sides. "Niiice," Jamie crooned, loaded the belt, and braced himself. A second later Matt felt a solid thud-thud-thud-thud as the machine gun thrummed, spitting out 20mm shells instead of the regular 7.62mm ammunition. He whooped, the adrenaline clouding his brain. A giddy joy rose in him as the second F1 took a string of shells to the joint of its right wing, which promptly tore off and sent the fighter into erratic spins. A shell or two found the cockpit. No one ejected.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | "Top of the garage!" Carter was yelling in Matt's ear. "Evac point!"
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Matt accelerated into the lead, spinning to a quick stop at the entrance to the building. All of them spilled out of the Humvees even as the last Dassault Mirage tore one Humvee apart with its heavy machine guns and completely obliterated it with another missile. Matt grabbed his G36c and ran, Holly right behind him, with everyone else on their heels.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | The heavy thumping of rotors was closer now. They all dived inside the garage walls as the Mirage's missiles blew portions of the courtyard.
| + | |
| − | All except one of the bigger marines who was carrying Carter. He was cut nearly in half by a line of bullets, and Carter went sailing to the ground outside cover. He tried to pick himself up, but his legs were now shot up and broken. He crawled into the marginal cover of a stone bench even as Matt was calling orders.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | "Set up a perimeter on the roof, try to keep that F1 off Matt head!" He yelled as he dashed back out the open garage door and towards Carter. Jamie and Holly followed him out without even being asked, and Scar was preparing her med-kit to treat Carter once they got him back.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | The F1 circled back around, and Matt dived for cover again as its seemingly endless supply of missiles tore up trees and blasted concrete. Jamie ran back into the Humvee and started up the MG again, but Holly and Matt had been separated by the last attack. Matt waved her back to the garage and sprinted ahead into the next piece of cover.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | The Mirage wasn't taking kindly to being shot at after its two buddies had been shot down. It came straight for Matt, heedless of the rounds Jamie was throwing at it.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Matt backslid into cover, sliding easily on the thick impact plates attached to his back, holding down the trigger of his assault rifle. More bravado than anything, because the chances of him hitting anything was next to zilch.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Regardless, Matt quickly found himself behind a low stone wall, maybe twenty yards from Carter. He was about to start out again, but the path there was quickly torn up by machine gun fire; a French armored truck was making its way towards him, and infantry were already pouring out the back. Carter was so dead.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | The Mirage came in again, but this time it was headed for Jamie. He barely managed to get out of the jeep before the missile slammed into it. God, how many jeeps had this thing wasted?
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Scar suddenly opened fire, and one of the infantry threw his arms up as her semi-auto sniper fire cut into their ranks. Holly had scavenged an MG off one of the Humvees, and she was flinging down suppressive fire. Someone was apparently still in the Abrams, because a 120mm shell tore greedily into the armored truck. There wasn't much left after that.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | The rest of the soldiers had now gotten to the roof, or close to it, and the multitude of rifles sent the French infantry scattering for cover. This was Matt's chance.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Without warning, Matt jumped up from where he had been lying prone and dashed to where Carter was firing his SMG sidearm at the French ranks. Matt grabbed him and threw him over his shoulder, as he had been taught in basic training, then started running for the garage.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Nearly at the same time, the Dassault Mirage circled and leveled out for an attack run, pointing straight at the entrance. It was now a race: if Matt couldn't make it to the door before the Mirage's missiles, he was done for.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Matt put every ounce of his failing strength into his legs, pumping them, left, right, left, right.
| + | |
| − | And then he was at the door, almost through it-
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | -but so was the missile. It landed mere feet behind Matt and exploded in a fireball of orange and yellow flames.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | There was no thought to it at that point. Matt didn't know how he did it, but on some inner survivalist instinct, he turned and threw up a psi-shield before them, letting himself be carried further into the garage by the enormous explosion, safe on the other side of his bubble.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | The shield was only semi-tangible, but it radiated power. It separated them from the explosion with a cool, liquid blue semi-physical semi-transparent distortion. Cool as in temperature, cool. It seemed almost cold to the touch.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | But he felt his energy rapidly fading even as they were shot away, and he let the shield shatter and absorbed the kinetic energy from the shatter back into his body. Carter and Matt landed on the hard asphalt with a thunk; they were safe, inside the dark parking garage.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Holly ran down and dragged Matt a little ways off as Scar set to work on Carter. He moaned, his head hurting again, and she jabbed a syringe of some sort into his leg. He let out a mild yelp as the needle penetrated his femoral artery, and Holly injected a pain-reliever. Matt's head quickly grew unclouded, his eyes refocused, and the throbbing in his head started to fade off.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Holly helped Matt up, and he grabbed his rifle and hobbled to the open wall. Outside, they were being surrounded. Groups of trucks and jeeps rolled to a stop just outside our effective rifle range, deploying scores of footsoldiers. About ten men per truck, times six trucks, made around 60 men, each armed with an automatic rifle and grenades and a sidearm. Plus the Mirage, which had now been joined by not one, not two, but three helicopter gunships and as many transports, each with another 25 Frenchies to deploy. All to take out around 50 Marines? Didn't they have better stuff to do, bigger fish to fry?
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | "Matt!" Holly yelled over the noise of the rotors, drawing Matt back to inside the garage. "Look!" She pointed up at the sky, but whatever she was pointing at had just passed behind a cloud, and a second later four more missiles crashed into the building. Le Francais were going to take them by brute force.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | "We have to get to the roof. Carter, can you make it?" Holly asked.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | "I have to." Carter replied grimly. Scar slung his arm across her shoulders, and Holly jumped forward to do so on the other side. Matt shook his head clear and followed Jamie up, covering the rear.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Jamie had grabbed quite a few toys from the Humvee. He had his G36c slung over his back and was holding a SPAS 12 automatic shotgun. He glanced at an ammo crate he was balancing on one shoulder. On the side was stenciled, '''''FRAG 15: CAUTION EXPLOSIVE'''''
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Matt grinned. A Frag 15 shell was basically a hollow metal slug filled with explosives. It was used by counter-terrorist forces to blow open doors and break down walls and stuff. Anti-material. That thing would carve a man-sized chunk out of a grizzly bear and leave it bleeding on the ground.
| + | |
| − | "New toys?" Matt asked, still breathing heavily.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | "Like it? Yeah I thought it would be fun to see how these Frenchies take my 'Welcome Back' present."
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | "Do you have any fishing line?"
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Jamie pulled a roll of line out of one of his infinite pockets.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | "Duct tape?"
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Jamie rolled his eyes. What good pyromaniac didn't have duct tape? He handed Matt a roll.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | "Explosive?"
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | "Okay, now that's getting redundant." Jamie handed Matt a satchel with two slabs of C4 in it and handed him a frag grenade to get it all started..
| + | |
| − | "We'll meet you up there," Matt called to the girls and Carter. Jamie looped one end of the line through the grenade ring while Matt tied down the fishing line across the stairway. He put the grenade out of sight behind the entryway, next to the satchel, and tied down that end to the other side of the door. They now had an almost invisible tripline connected to two slabs of C4. Jamie secured the grenade, the C4, and the line with a generous amount of duct tape to make sure the ring was pulled, and they now had an almost undetectable trap.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | "God, I love explosives." Jamie sighed. Matt thumped him on the arm, pumped fists, and then they both were running for the roof. Good thing they were in shape. All this running up ramps and stairs kind of took the wind out of you.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | "Sir, they're advancing on the building." A marine stated calmly.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | "Hold 'em off. Shouldn't be much longer." Holly reassured them.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Grimly, Matt reloaded his rifle. Jamie crouched by the open stairwell, after having pumped three explosive slugs into the elevator. He shut the door with his boot heel and started wiring explosives to go off when the door was opened. Matt used a TK assisted grip to crunch the handle and disconnected the control panel.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | One of the marines had a SAW, which was an acronym for Squad Automatic Weapon. Basically a big machine gun. He set up at the lip of the stone wall surrounding the top floor, and momentarily was flooding the lower levels in brass casings. Jamie, usually the machine gunner, was currently engaged in door guard, but Scar filled in for him with an M21 Designated Marksman's Rifle.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Holly called Matt over to where she was working on a laptop. “Here, I need help bypassing the firewall.” Matt crouched next to her, opened the command prompt, and hacked his way into the computer that controlled the utilities in the courtyard. Using remote access, he pulled the security measures down and returned control to Holly.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | She kept typing in commands, and a second later gave a pleased hum, which was followed by all the lights in the parking garage cutting out in the dim moonlight, and all the street lamps and light fixtures in the courtyard coming ablaze with even more power. Floodlights winked on and swiveled to point at the sky and into the faces of the French fixed MG gunners.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | The French infantry were thus exposed, and the American riflemen in the garage were able to pick them off at leisure.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | But that wasn't to stop the gunships and the Mirage from circling back. The guy with the SAW was quickly pressed into Anti-Aircraft duty, and he kept the gunships mostly out of range. He emptied round after round at one Helo. There was plenty of ammo, and the sustained fire might damage it. Jamie opened up some slugs every time the F1 made a run, but the transports were too big and heavily armored for the Frag 15 to do any lasting damage quickly enough if it decided to land on top of the building, or worse yet fast-rope men down to the top.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | All it needed was a break in the line.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | "Jamie! C4?" Matt yelled from a good AA covered position, his back pressed to a utility generator of some sort, sides protected by pipes and rotors. Hunched low, Jamie dashed across to Matt, backslid into the little alcove created by the utility stuff, and started rifling through pockets. After a couple seconds he produced a slab of C4, a remote detonator, and a roll of duct-tape.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Matt drew his combat knife and cut the C4 into five pieces. Then he yanked a grenade off of his assault vest, taped it to a C4 chunk, and plugged in the remote detonator. he made five of these, in the hopes that the C4 block could penetrate the armor of one of the transports and the frag grenade would obliterate the occupants.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Just then, one of the gunships landed a missile on the roof, and the explosion shook the MG's aim. The transports instantly were thrown into first gear and came barreling in to land troops. Matt hefted a block of C4 and got ready to throw, and Jamie, beside him, did likewise.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | The transports advanced as one, and the Mirage circled around again. It was now finally out of missiles, but its chain gun could still wreak havoc.
| + | |
| − | The SAW started up again, a steady rat-ta-tat-tat, but the transports' armor was too heavy. Unless Matt could stop them, they were done for.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Matt grabbed the first block and chucked it at a transport. It exploded behind and to the right, shaking the transport and badly damaging it but nothing else. Crap.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | The first transport brought itself around to a hover directly over the building, and ropes were let down over the sides. The gunships advanced, and the MG had to swing around to suppress those. Matt hefted the next makeshift anti-armor grenade and prepared to throw it.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | The first French soldiers were just sliding over the edges when a pair of missiles glided elegantly down from above, stately burrowing into the first transport. They carved their way in and exploded, tearing the enormous bird out of the sky in a great orange fireball.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Then the American F-22 Raptor that had fired them swung around and chased down the Dassault Mirage. It hurriedly broke off its attack run and hit the afterburners, rocketing out of the courtyard. The F-22 pursued the F1, but the Raptor's wingmate circled the courtyard and brought down the next transport.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Then the V-22 Osprey itself was hovering protectively over the garage, and someone quickly threw down an orange smoke grenade as a signal marker.
| + | |
| − | The Osprey's dual 40mm nose cannons swiveled and tracked the last transport, then blasted it from the sky. A repeating MG below the cockpit strafed the infantry lines, and a pair of missiles from its pylons tore apart several squads and APCs.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | "WHOOH! YEAH!!" Jamie yelled, followed by a marine shouting "Alright!!"
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Matt simply sank to his knees as the first lines were let down, and many strong arms grabbed him, taking him aboard. Matt's last vision was the French ranks scattering as the Raptors returned, swooping and diving like metal birds...
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Then darkness.
| + | |
| | | | |
| | + | Baggy Pants approached |
| | ---- | | ---- |
| | [[Phoenix Rising: Chapter 3]] | | [[Phoenix Rising: Chapter 3]] |
The second chapter of the series.
I've done some switching around of chapters, and a bit of off-line work, which brings this chapter into play.
At six feet, 180 pounds, Matt was an imposing sight, made even more so by his three friends backing him up. First and foremost was Jamie Campbell. The other two, girls, Scarlett Miller, known to them as Scar, and Holly Dayne, the one the man in the hoodie had been messing with.
Jamie stepped in front of Scar, placing himself between her and the man as well as next to Matt in case he should need back up.
The hoodie guy scowled. "What, are you gonna rough me up, punk?" And at that, Hoodie's posse appeared and stood at the guy's shoulder, arms crossed. Matt rolled his eyes. Here they went with the whole macho-scripted clichés.
"We're kinda hoping it won't come to that." Jamie growled. "For your sake."
"Watch your mouth, buddy. You must be what, sixteen?" The posse chuckled. They were all above 21.
"Yeah. That just makes it all the more humiliating when I mail your butt back to you in a pringles can." Jamie continued.
"That's it, punk. Lemme teach you a lesson."
"I wouldn't advise that." Matt said, stepping in front of Jamie before he dropped the guy.
After having ducked under the swing, Matt stepped forward and threw his fist into the man's stomach. The man collapsed to his knee and coughed a couple of times. Hoodie looked up and glared at Matt. Matt stepped in towards the guy and clocked him solidly in the mouth. The hoodie guy tried to rise to his knees, but Matt stepped in again and kicked the guy's ribs.
Matt turned to Holly, who had retreated to Scar's side behind Jamie."You okay?"
"Matt watch-" It came to late. The man had stood back up and tackled Matt. He was about to punch the teenager when Jamie rammed him into the wall. With that the rest of Baggy Pants' posse jumped in. It became an all out brawl. Matt was taking on two guys while Jamie was backed into a wall fending off three others. Baggy Pants and two others walked towards the girls.
