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| | '''14:32 Hours, May 29, 2790 (Military Calendar),Miami, Florida, USA''' | | '''14:32 Hours, May 29, 2790 (Military Calendar),Miami, Florida, USA''' |
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| − | "''Hit the dirt!''" | + | "''Hit the gas! Drive!''" |
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| − | The missile flew by in a flash of heat and smoke, smashing partway into the remains of a metal ship-loading crane before exploding, scattering bits of glowing-hot metal for fifty feet.
| + | Matt yanked the stick to drive and floored the accelerator, sending their refurbished Corvega shooting down the cracked road. Thanks to the steel behemoth's 800 horsepower, nuclear-fueled reactor power source, the car built up from zero to sixty in a little more than half a second. Matt leveled out at 120 mph - along the cracked and broken roads of what used to be a district in Miami, this was the fastest Matt could safely handle the car. |
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| − | Matt buried his exposed face into the ground, letting his olive-drab full body Combat Armor deflect the shrapnel. When it was over, he pushed himself onto his feet and readied his R91 assault rifle.
| + | Jamie, riding shotgun, was booting up a street map on a small, modified computer they had installed on the car's dash while balancing an R91 assault rifle across his lap. "Where are we headed?" |
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| − | "Where the ''hell'' did a bunch of drug runners get a missile launcher?!" Jamie shouted from across an open area. They both had their backs pressed into cover, preparing to peek out and return fire on the drug runners' ship. | + | "Away from here." Matt grunted, tight-lipped, as he swerved to avoid a deep fissure in the pulverized asphalt. |
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| − | Matt ignored the question, instead stepping partway out and unloading the entire 35-round extended mag at the guy with the launcher. Despite the number of bullets, the runner was at the extreme range of Matt's rifle - more than 300 yards. The R91 was built as an urban assault rifle, not a marksman's rifle or carbine. It favored quantity and power of its bullets over accurate shots. Even so, three rounds hit their target, stitching upward from lower waist, hip, and dead-center of the runner's stomach.
| + | Jamie looked over. "Purely genius. Never would've figured that out by myse-" |
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| − | The runner fell clutching at his chest, and the launcher skidded across the deck, teetered on the edge of the ship, and then plunged into the water below.
| + | Matt swung the car around again, sending Jamie crashing into the window. "Sorry. And we need to get out of town." |
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| − | "Hell yeah! Nice shot, lead." One of Matt's men shouted.
| + | With a sigh, Jamie righted himself and plotted a course to their hideout. "We need to pick up some supplies first. We'll stop by the hideout and maybe find a place in the city-" |
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| − | Matt ducked back and reloaded as the incoming fire picked up. "We've got to get closer!" Matt shouted to Jamie. "They're bugging out."
| + | "Miami's way too hot right now. Luna will have men posted everywhere within the next twenty minutes. I'm thinking we grab our gear and find a boat on the docks." Matt cut him off. |
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| − | Jamie watched the smoke from the drug ship's big diesels puff out at a renewed pace. "They've gotta be hauling close to two tons of contraband."
| + | "We're running away?" |
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| − | "Which is why we can't let them get off - they'll just sneak back to another port and bribe the customs. Come on!" | + | "Tactical retreat. That damn Cuban has around 300 men on his payroll. |
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| − | "Adams, Shane, suppressive fire. The rest of you, stay put. If we don't come back, get back to command and tell them what happened." Jamie ordered, quickly following Matt's lead.
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| − | Matt darted around the corner and sprinted for a crater made long ago in the concrete deck of the loading bay. As he ran, a two-man Machine Gun nest at the bow of the ship opened up, sending a shower of bullets at the two Marines. Two rounds hit and shattered against Matt's torso armor, but they knocked his breath out and slowed him down as he doubled over, sucking air. The MG's operator had Matt zeroed now - he swung the gun around to try to finish the job.
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| − | But fortunately for Matt, Jamie had brought along one of the unit's best snipers. Adams looked calmly through the site of his DKS-501 Sniper Rifle and launched a .308 cal slug that ripped through the sandbag wall of the MG nest and tore into the operator's head. The gun quickly grew silent.
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| − | Jamie closed the gap and drew up next to Matt, hauled him to his feet, and then they were both running again for the ship, no clear plan in mind as to how to stop it from leaving.
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| − | | + | |
| − | Matt and Jamie, as well as the six other men stationed in and around the port's ruins, were part of the southeast detachment of the New America Republic's military forces. An evolution of the New California Republic, the NAR had come about once the NCR's influence began to stretch far beyond the boundaries of the old American state. Renaming the entire structure as the NAR, the NCR technically still existed as the western detachment of the New American Republic.
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| − | Matt and Jamie had taken their squads on a routine patrol of one of Miami's ports. They'd quickly noticed something was wrong when the customs official on duty was nowhere to be found - the result of a drug runner bribe.
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| − | The two squads had spread out and were advancing at the only ship in port when the missile came at them.
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| − | "They're casting off the lines!" Jamie pointed out, adding a few shots at the boat for emphasis.
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| − | "Yeah, but it'll take them at least another two minutes to raise anchor." Matt panted. "We need to take out her engines without sinking her - I wanna see if we can get some intel on this group. This is the most audacious they've ever been, running an op in broad daylight at a major port."
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| − | "How are we going to stop the ship? Assault rifles can't penetrate two feet of steel."
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| − | Frustrated, Matt emptied his clip at a group of runners on the deck. Two dropped immediately, and the third hobbled into cover, holding his bleeding leg.
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| − | "We didn't bring any heavy weapons."
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| − | "I know."
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| − | "That means a boarding run?"
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| − | "Why not? We've faced worse odds before. How many do you think there are?" Jamie asked.
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| − | "I'd guess at least thirty crewmen from the size. We've put down about ten, so only another twenty left in the lower levels?"
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| − | "So if we each take out ten guys, we'll be all set." Jamie said sarcastically.
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| − | "Oh. Great. No biggy."
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| − | "Let's go - now!" Jamie vaulted over his cover and ran for the ship. Matt followed as Jamie dived off the edge of the port into the open water.
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| − | The two of them sank quickly. Matt panicked momentarily - their armor was heavy, weighing them down, making it difficult to swim normally. He groped around for his rebreather he kept clipped to his combat harness, found it, and slotted it over his mouth and nose. A piece of pre-war tech, the rebreather took the depleted air as he exhaled, treated it, and then fed it back to his face through a hose and a valve.
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| − | Matt peered through the murky water and spotted Jamie clinging to the side of the ship, strapping a block of C4 to the hull. Jamie swam back to Matt, hit the detonator, and then the two of them rushed into the hole in the ship.
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| − | The two Marines set down on the now-flooded deck of what had been the engine room.
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| − | Jamie motioned up. Matt nodded, and the two of them kicked off for the surface.
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| − | "Looks like we took out the engines." Jamie said.
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| − | "You might say that. How much C4 did you use?"
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| − | "I had a kilo with me. I only used half."
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| − | "Wow, you restrained yourself from scuttling the entire ship. Nice work." Matt said, only half sarcastically. Jamie had a thing with explosives, and with him it was definitely a 'the-more-the-merrier' policy.
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| − | Miami
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| − | The Cuban guards walked down the rusting stairs pushing a young man along. They entered a small 40 by 30 foot square room. They looked in the four small cells that held different prisoners. Ever since the Resource war the Cubans had been pillaging small towns all over the gulf. Miami just so happened to be too weak and had soon become a part of the Cubans ring of influence as a jump point for other raids.
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| − | These cells were reserved for the most dangerous enemies of the Cubans. A few soldiers from different groups had been locked up down here, sometimes if a local gang got strong enough their boss would be put down here to cool off. Not many men stayed in the cells for too long as they either joined the Cubans or were executed.
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| − | The guard pushed the young Caucasian male into one of the cells with a New American Marine. The young man pulled himself over to the bars of the cell and leaned against them. The Marine spit at the Cubans as they left and walked over to the young man. As he went to see if the man was hurt the man stood up.
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| − | "Jamie wake your lazy butt up. I didn't start a riot just to watch you sleep." He said through the bars into the next cell.
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| − | A dark shape on the other side rolled over and yawned. It stood up to reveal a blond haired young man no older than 21.
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| − | "I knew you would show up Matt."
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| − | "Yeah yeah. I'm still mad that you pissed off the head of the Miami Cubans." Matt said bumping fists with Jamie through the bars.
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| − | "Hey I didn't know she was his daughter." Jamie said pulling up his cot and digging around under the thin mattress. He pulled out a small bundle.
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| − | "Your such an idiot. You got yourself locked in the pit."
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| − | "Hey its not like this place will hold us long."
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| − | "Is that what I think it is?" Matt asked pointing to the bundle.
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| − | "Like I would be without explosives." Jamie scoffed tossing a second bundle to Matt. Matt opened it to find two homemade shanks made from broken bars at the rear of the cell.
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| − | "How did you get them in here." He asked testing the edge and finding it horribly below his standards, but usable with enough force.
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| − | "You don't want to know." Jamie said setting the first three small packages on the bars at the corner of the two cells.
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Matt yanked the stick to drive and floored the accelerator, sending their refurbished Corvega shooting down the cracked road. Thanks to the steel behemoth's 800 horsepower, nuclear-fueled reactor power source, the car built up from zero to sixty in a little more than half a second. Matt leveled out at 120 mph - along the cracked and broken roads of what used to be a district in Miami, this was the fastest Matt could safely handle the car.
Jamie, riding shotgun, was booting up a street map on a small, modified computer they had installed on the car's dash while balancing an R91 assault rifle across his lap. "Where are we headed?"
"Away from here." Matt grunted, tight-lipped, as he swerved to avoid a deep fissure in the pulverized asphalt.
Jamie looked over. "Purely genius. Never would've figured that out by myse-"
Matt swung the car around again, sending Jamie crashing into the window. "Sorry. And we need to get out of town."
With a sigh, Jamie righted himself and plotted a course to their hideout. "We need to pick up some supplies first. We'll stop by the hideout and maybe find a place in the city-"
"Miami's way too hot right now. Luna will have men posted everywhere within the next twenty minutes. I'm thinking we grab our gear and find a boat on the docks." Matt cut him off.
"Tactical retreat. That damn Cuban has around 300 men on his payroll.
