Silas and Sven popped from their hidden positions and poured relentless fire into the grouped ranks of the enemy infantry before them. Many of them fell dead in the opening volleys and those weren't gunned down were instead chased down Ducaelia. The APCs immediately moved in but were then met by Gerad's anti-vehicular armaments. The first APC became practically disabled while the other two that attempted to reinforce the failing first wave of troops were obliterated. The initial APC to have been hit eventually shared their fates. That only left many of the other troops in an awkward spot, unsure if they should advance or fall back.

Whether it was out of desperation or annoyance of the startled thugs that began exhibiting doubts about committing to another charge, the gunners of the rigged trucks, armed with heavy machine guns and even gatling guns, peppered the defensive positioned Silas' crew assumed. Concreate fragments and sparks flew in all directions as their cover began to literally disintegrate. Silas and then followed by Sven were forced to withdraw which then only left Ducaelia exposed as she tore into some of the surviving thugs on the field. Figuring that they were as good as dead anyway as a metallic predator had befallen them, the gunners shifted their aim toward the Vandrell and opened up. Two of her would-be victims were quickly chewed to pieces. Ironically, their fortunate, or unfortunate - depending on whom you asked - positioning, had took the brunt of the machine gun attacks aimed for her. But like the cover, they two fell apart into meaty junks.

And then one of the gunner's heads exploded.

The headless form lurched forward and pressed against gun it still gripped, causing the barrel to drop to the roof of the truck. It was still firing. The occupants were riddled with heavy caliber rounds, ripping them apart and painting the windows and windshield with red. Soon, the truck's engine became compromised with the continuous fire and promptly erupted into a fireball that consumed the vehicle. Alerted to the new threat the other machine gunners scrambled to find their attacker, one of them even firing wildly in the direction they believed the shot to have originated from.

Another gunner fell with a chuck of their skull having been carved off, turning their head into a grotesque fountain of blood and ichor. The body collapsed and prompted the driver to take evasive action by maneuvering the truck behind one of the APC wrecks. But like their former gunner, another shot found him too. The truck continued to roll off, staying its original course before running into a destroyed APC.

After another was shot, the remaining trucks began pulling out, their drivers not wanting to stand up to a threat they couldn't see. Along with them, the remaining thugs booked out of the fight. Silas rose from his spot and observed the remnants of the first wave of thugs retreating. While he would normally celebrate the victory, he knew better that this was simply a tactical retreat. Whomever brought this entire force has kept plenty of troops and armor in reserve. If anything, this was more of a probing assault if anything. Now that the commander of this unit knew what they were dealing with, Silas could count on them changing their strategy. He mentally pretended to be the same person, mentally speaking, and thought how the new approach would go. They were clearly entrenched and possessed anti-armor means. Attempting another assault like last time would be foolish unless Gerad was taken out of the equation. Mortar fire would certainly help with that. If that could be achieved, the APCs, their best assets available, would be able to roll in unopposed. Along with the trucks providing support fire, Ducaelia would be rendered a non-issue. By then, Cyne would be forced back off as continuous fire would undoubtedly give his position away, risking coordinated return fire. After that Silas and Sven would be over run at that point.

Silas frowned, they were no longer in suitable position and he could hear shouting and the rumbling of vehicles, heralding the arrival of a better prepared second wave. But retreat was not really much of an option; they were surrounded. They could feasibly retreat back into the complex and fortify there, but with what? The place was pretty much robbed of anything that could be repurposed into barricade. And then, who what to say if the attack wouldn't just level part of the building? And going deeper back to the control room would present an unproductive stalemate. There only option was to break the assault without being overrun. Silas pondered this dreadful thought as his tactical eyes danced around the battlefield for any exploitable advantages.

For a moment he found nothing.

But then he spied the Chimera from before.

In all honesty, despite overcoming the monstrosity, they genuinely didn't actually destroy it. Not enough of it anyway to prevent it from functioning anyway. If anything, it was crewless. He then turned to Sven, "I want you to do something stupid and yet possibly thrilling."

Sven stared at Silas, honestly stumped upon what he had mind, "I'm...listening?"

Silas continued, "You think you can take over that Chimera?"

"The one we downed?"

"Yes."

"The same tank that we knocked one of the lift boosters out on, including a sophisticated defense suite?"

"Err...yeah."

"The same tank that you practically fire-bombed, internally I may add, which likely cause fire damaged to quite a few of its systems."

He didn't want to answer that last one.

"Sure."

Silas blinked, "really?"

"Shouldn't be too hard to repurpose. Think I should get it up and running within about, say, ten minutes?"

It was then that the first mortar strike Silas predicted came crashing down on the open field. A tower of dirt and debris erupted from the impact before raining back down upon the terrain.

"You have two minutes."

"Fine," Sven replied, "only if Cyne helps push."

Evidently, Cyne was apparently listening, "I'm doing what, now?"

Silas got a chuckle out of that one, "Fair. Listen up folks, we're getting our asses out of here and we're using the tank that nearly kicked our asses to do it. We just need to hold out until Sven can get it up and running. Rally at the Chimera, double time, unless you want to get acquainted with the artillery."

---

Once everyone has moved from their former positions, the mortar strikes zeroed in and pummeled the area where the first wave had marked. Silas watched as one such strike flatten where he just was seconds ago. Just as before, he ordered everyone to maintain their assigned roles. Having relocated to the tank, their attackers would not consider their position until they came under fire.

This time, seven APCs slowly crawled through the gate, infantry and armed trucks coming from behind. Clearly, they approached the original site the first wave failed against. A half a minute later and they found nothing. More loud and angry yelling could be heard behind them, ordering second wave's assault units to spread out. Two APCs and three trucks supported by infantry made their way towards the downed Chimera though albeit to pass by. Once the distance was acceptable, Cyne opened fire, killing one of the truck gunners and took aim upon the others. Silas then ordered Gerad and Ducaelia to engage as well.

Ducaelia was hiding behind the tank this time, her hack tool out and active. She giggled mercilessly. "Just a little here, and probing here, a broken firewall there, and done!" The tool's screen turned from yellow to green and the APC's gave a slight lurch before stopping completely. One driver was very confused and pushed on the peddle. Nothing happened. A grinning face appeared on the display board of the APC. He looked very confused now.

The vandrell assassin giggled maniacally. "And this is why you don't drive automatic." Her think robotic hand turned a dial on the side of the tool and peeked her head out to watch the chaos unfold.

The driver was angry now, smacking the display board hoping it would help. The grinning face had devil horns now. He looked at it worried. He attempted to open the door, but nothing happened. He got wide eyed in realization. "oh fuu-"
*RRRREEEEEEETTT*
The APCs started driving around like dragsters, with all manual control denied. They ran through their allies corpses, creating a few marks of road kill. Two smacked into each other, pushing each other like rams. Another started doing donuts not too far away from the Chimera. One slammed into a wall, collapsing some of it and incapacitating it's occupants. The fifth one, containing the driver who realized what was happening, turned to quickly and tipped over. The other two, after driving over some of the previous casualties, Managed to regain control, but destroyed the automatic systems in the process.
Seeing this, Ducaelia activated her shield gauntlet, changing the charge flow in her body to do so, and ran towards the APC's quickly to take them out. One got to their turret in time and started shooting at her. She smiled, but then scowled thinking she should have done this earlier. She got up to it and jumped on top, and put a stinger round in the thug's head. He slumped off the side, and she noticed he had a grenade. She leaned down and pulled the pin, kicking him into the hole. She then put the shield below her, planning to take advantage of the small blast.
It went off, blowing the APC apart. The blast threw Ducaelia into the air, where she turned her cloak on to avoid people shooting at her. She landed not to far from the other APC, but it got it's engine started, and took off. Ducaelia got a hand on though, and turned off her shield, trading it for her claws. She pierced holes in the APC while sheet attempted to climb on top. She did but was greeted with a turret barrel. "Cyne if you hear this, please help. Kinda like NOW!"

Along with anyone else, Cyne had abandoned his spot as well and made his way to the downed Chimera. He knew that he had to hurry, lest he found himself open and exposed to many warranted guns put in his direction. Unlike some of his compatriots, he couldn't afford to take a hit. Thankfully, Silas' timing was properly judged and they were able to reach the Chimera unopposed. Per his orders two, everyone fortified themselves around the tank. The armor, while having been pummeled by Cyne's RPG attacks earlier and Gerad's heavy weapons, would still prove relatively efficient against the conventional gunfire that was sent at them thus far. Even the mortars wouldn't pose too much of a threat either.

Sven had hopped in through the Chimera's hatch and made his way inside. Cyne was rather surprised that the width of the opening would even accommodate the Ascended Vandrell's bulk. As Cyne set himself up underneath the tank's main turret, he couldn't help but hear what appeared to be struggling near the hatch. Cyne groaned in annoyance. Could the tank's crew actually survived? When he pulled himself out from under the turret and climbed aboard, a blackened and charred formed appeared, exiting the hatch. Understandably startled, Cyne instinctively reached for his sidearm but a second later, he sighed. The form was actually what remained of one of the former crew that Sven was pushing out of the tank. Made sense. Given the enclosed compartments, having, literal, dead weight would proved troublesome to maneuver around. As the corpse finally fell out and clanged against the hull before connecting to the ground, Sven looked up to an observant Cyne, innocently.

"What?" he asked.

"N-nothing," replied Cyne.

"Oh, okay then," Sven said before returning back inside the tank.

Soon enough, the second wave's forces had arrived and upon arriving at the now pulverized site, it had split into several groups. One of them heading toward the Chimera. It didn't take long for the action to kick back up as Ducaelia, apparently, remotely hijacked all of the APCs, forcing them into a topsy-turvy. Anyone too close to the chaos was either run over or tossed aside. Many of the gun trucks took their own evasive maneuvers, their drivers yelling at the APCs' own. While five of the armored vehicles being incapacitated or still preoccupied with the madness, the remaining three eventually regained control. Ducaelia skillfully took one of them out with a repurposed grenade down the vehicles hatch and made her way to another one.

However, the APC she now mounted was more tenacious, if not desperate to get her off. The vehicles gun turret swung around and took aim at the unwanted hitchhiker. That was however until something small and fast sheered through the armor plating of the turret. A moment later, a kind of slumping sound could be heard within the gun turret canopy. The turret didn't move at that point and the guns never fired either.

"Ducaelia, you're clear." Cyne voxed in as he scanned for his next target. It was then that the truck and infantry, having reorganized from the sudden confusion, were now vectoring on the Chimera, "I recommend you get out of there, you're drawing to much attention to yourself."

Indeed she was as the truck gunners spotted her and began making carful pot shots at her, trying to force Ducaelia off the APC. Although one by one, the gunners and nearby infantry were felled, followed by the echo if each discharge. Looking past her, Cyne could spot a few more APCs, having recovered from the confusion, were making their way here too, along with their infantry and truck support as well.

As they rallied on the knocked out tank and made ready for the next wave, Gerad joined Sven in trying to bring the machine back on line. Though the tank’s design made it impossible for him to enter it while in full armour, it was equipped with several external maintenance hatches for rapid in field servicing. Prying one open, Gerad tapped into the tank’s systems and immediately was able to answer a question that’d bugged him since it’d shown up. Why hadn’t the crew just slagged them with its main gun?

His best guess was that the tank had had its computers totally wiped when it was surplussed, including the controlling software for the plasma cannon; these guys seemed to have used a copy of a much lighter plasma cannon’s control software as a work around, but his guess was that it simply crashed when trying to deal with this much higher output. Deleting that patch of files, Gerad loaded a copy of his PRP’s OS, and made a few rapid adjustments; it was crude, it was sloppy and it’s probably wasn’t going to work all that great, but it was better than before.

The system came back online just moments before the second wave moved on them. From his position beside her, he watched Ducaelia launch a cyber warfare attack that made him think about his own armour’s security; but that was another thing for later. As the APCs went haywire, he still maintained his link to the tank, and took remote control of the turret. Status boards showed damage to its horizontal traverse, so trying to hit any of the, potential, moving targets was pretty much out of the question while the hull was stationary, but he could swing it about and aim it at the breach they had come through. As soon as the system showed a ready shot, he fired, sending a massive bolt of plasma through the breach where it exploded in a brilliant flash; best case, he hit something important, worst case, the third wave would be a bit more hesitant about coming through.

”Oi Sven!” He called across the company comm channel as he disconnected. ”Big burn’a up top works, those ‘s a bit sluggy side to. Reload ain’t shiny eithe’ but ‘ll get ther’ in a tik.” Bring his personal weapons and defences online, he moved to join the battle. ”Oh, an’ if th’ ‘puter say somethin’ ‘bout a ‘Cascade Failure’, leg it sharpish like.”

Ducaelia has the APCs all scattered and in disarray, so he turned his attention to the supporting infantry. With barrier up and shields on, he advanced towards them, turning his VLA in the trucks. While they were armoured, it was armour that was meant to stop light infantry grade slug throwers, not a vehicle grade laser weapon. The first two blew up spectacularly as his targeted their fuel storage, a third one simply vanished with everyone on board when a PRP round struck it in the side; all that in the first few moments.

The infantry, shaken by Durcaelia’s antics, didn’t even pay him any mind until he opened fire, but it was a rather futile gesture. Saving his dwindling PRP shots for any more heavy armored vehicles or soldiers, he simply bunkered down in the open and made himself a rather lethal little pillbox. Small arms fire poured into him, sparking of the shield, or on occasion, rattling off of the armour itself. None of the troops seemed to have anti-armour weapons, why would they, they controlled all the serious firepower on the planet…right? Safe in his walking tank, Gerad took his time picking off the enemy. ”Ain’t ‘and shoot’n this easy since trainin’!”

"The, shit?" Cyne blurted out when he finally noticed the Chimera's main gun turret coming to life and rotated on its own accord.

Having nestled himself just under the turret's armor and framework, Cyne forcibly rolled out from his firing position turned to the main gun, annoyance and anger painting his expression. He wasn't all that well receptive about being evicted from what essentially was his hiding spot. The same spot that no one had eyes on, and now he was exposed. Before he could protest, he heard charging coils built into the gun begin to purr and growl. He was staring up, right underneath the barrel of the plasma cannon.

"Sonuva-!"

Cyne scrambled off the roof of the tank and just in time as the cannon discharged a round, hellish fire vomiting from the muzzle break.

---

"The, shit?" Sven said aloud upon realizing that the main turret above him began to move.

The Vandrell quizzically looked at all the panels before him, the ones that weren't cooked, to try and find why the gun was moving. He didn't tell it to move. At least, he didn't think he didn't tell the gun to move. Resurrecting the vehicle was practically a rush job by now and he guessed he could have unintentionally ordered the turret into a rotation. But when his eyes caught one of the targeting screens that provided a live feed from the turret's visual sensors, he quickly came to the conclusion that this was no error. He watched the cross hairs line up at the entrance of the compound. Where fresh infantry and gun trucks were pouring in as reinforcements.

"Oh," he murmured, "you guys are fucked."

In an instant, he watched the round fly off and landed center into the formation and the screen went white, soon followed by a loud explosion from outside seconds later. The feed was still coming in but there was only smoke flames to look at. Eventually, Gerad's voice filled the comms. Apparently, he was the one that remotely took control of the turret just as he got it back up and working.

"Cheers, mate!" Sven replied as his grubby hands were then all over the control console, seemingly lost to the fact that the Chimera was alive again; and he was the beast's master.

---

"Well, shit," said Silas as he watched the whole scene unfold.

The second wave's reinforcements were, at this point, no longer existing in this reality. The Chimera's shot had practically vaporized anything that was caught at its epicenter. All that was left now was just a smoking crater. The surviving enemies looked on in horror as they quickly found themselves no longer fighting a squad of fice experienced and battle-hardened individuals; they were now sighting a functional tank. They didn't have anything in their arsenal to take anything like that on. One by one, the infantry of thugs, gun trucks, and whatever was left of the APC brigade were hightailing it.

It was then that the Chimera rose from the ground although slowly and rather unsteadily since one of the lift engines was still knocked out, forcing Sven, light the former crew before him, to compensate by applying additional thrust the remaining booster on the side of the tank. The Chimera rotated in place and pushed forward though only with its still armored and still shielded flank. It wasn't going anywhere fast and it certainly wasn't going to be agile about it either. But that was alright. As far as Silas was concerned, he simpy wanted to bust out of the encirclement and kill anyone and anything that stood in their way.

"Right. Everyone, we're busting out of here! Sven, take point. You'll be our battering ram. Everyone else, stick close to the Chimera and shoot anything that is in front of the tank," Silas ordered as he climbed up on the Chimer's main turret and commandeered one of the mounted machine guns, "we're jumping into a bee hive, in a suit of armor."

Once everyone had formed up once more, The Chimera lurched forward and arrived at the complex's leveled entrance. Down the hilled road, remnants of the second wave were held up by their confused comrades, whom were unintentionally blocking their escape. However, it seemed that the loud and bad-mouthing individual, still in their jeep all the way in the back of the amassed formation of infantry and armored vehicles, was ordering them all to press forward. Either they were oblivious to the approaching tank or didn't care.

Before Silas's crew and their tank was a wall of eight APCs, either in a defensive position or scattered about while the remaining forces of gun trucks and infantry were spread out. With nothing better to do with their predicament, every weapon that they could muster opened up at the Chimera. To their increasing dismay, the tank still had a functional defensive suite as several barriers materialized and absorbed the impacts that came in as rain. Sven, still happy about his position, activated the remaining auto guns and let loose his own lethal reply. Two thuggish squads, having been caught out in the open, crumpled to the ground in a mist of red.

"Sven," Silas called out, "focus your fire at the center of the formation. Ducaelia, Gerad, and Cyne, go to town on their flanks. Keep out of Sven's kill zone."

As Sven pushed the tank forward, Gerad stood up and joined the advance, drawing almost as much fire as Sven and the Chimera. VLA shots burned down two more thugs before he focused his attention on the APCs; Silas, Cyne and Ducaelia could deal with the foot mobiles and gun trucks easily enough, but only he and Sven had the firepower to make short work of the APCs.

Leaving the ones in the open for the tank, he spotted two in hull down positions near one another. One had the cluster of aerials of a command vehicle, while more imminently dangerously, the other sported a rail-gun as its primary. Fortunately the gunner seemed to be focusing on the tank, which Gerad was most grateful of; that rail-gun had almost no chance of harming the battered Chimera, but it could give him a real bad time. He was about to do what he did with the earlier APCs, VLA to disrupt the shields, PRP to fry them, when he spied a way to do that and scatter the dug in troops near them. Smiling to himself, he adjusted the impact point of his PRP.

---

Troop Leader Stilson swore from the back of the Alecto class Armoured Command Carrier. Watching through the gunners sight feed, he saw the tank that Command swore was out of action, lumber towards them, sure it looked like it wasn’t in great shape, but the smoking crater that used to be the second wave, showed that it still had teeth…far more teeth than anyone on his side of the firing line had.

The rear hatch was open and he could hear the crackle of small arms fire from his men and the other units, the ‘thumping’ of the old style chemrail auto-cannons on the standard Megaera class troop carriers, the ‘zipkrak’ of the rail-gun on the Tisiphone beside him as well as the barrages from the jury-rigged gun trucks. Another rail slug shattered against the tanks defences, “May as well try and piss on it…” Fortunately the tank seemed to be ignoring them. However movement from the far side of the tank suddenly drew all of Stilson’s attention.

The squat, quadrupedal profile, coupled with its seemingly total immunity to hostile fire, could only mean one thing; a Garundin. “Raptor-6 shift fire to the Garundin, left of the Chimera.”

“Say again, Raptor-1. The what?”

“THE FUCKING FOUR LEGGED THING BESIDE THE FUCKING TANK!”

Stilson watched in horror as the Garundin’s shoulder mounted cannon pivoted in his direction. During a raid early in his time with Apocalypse, his unit had tangled with a small Garundin patrol; they’d out numbed the patrol 5 to 1, only 10% of his unit had survived, and they never brought down an single one of those damned four legs. Now, all he could do was watch in slow motion as he was about to die.

The plasma cannon fired…and Stilson opened his eyes. Somehow he was alive? Maybe that little bastard had taken more of a beating than he’d thought; he was about to shout at Raptor-6 again, when one of his men rushed into the back of the Alecto. “TeeEl, tower’s coming down!” It took a moment for the words to click. They’d gone hull down beside an old transmission tower…already unsettled by the events so far, he ran, shoving the man aside in a bit to get clear. Staggering outside, he looked back at the tower as it toppled and realized the Garundin hadn’t missed, instead blowing a sizable chunk out of the bottom of the tower…and dropping right across the two APCs and and firing positions of his men.

There was no time to do anything, the tower fell right across both pieces of armour, their shields sparking briefly before collapsing, the impact taking the turrets out of the fight. Some of the men saw what was coming, and managed to warn others, scrambling clear. Too many weren’t fast enough and were crushed under the mass of metal, and even those that survived that now found a new problem, in their desperate bit to get away, many now found themselves out in the open.

Troop Leader Stilson was knocked from his feet by a piece of flying debris, and though his body armour stopped it from killing him, it still took the wind out of him. Laying in the dirt he could only watch as his command was crushed and scattered. The man that’d run to warn him was dead, the chunk of metal that knocked Stilson down had first gone through the man’s neck. Stilson had just managed to drag himself to his knees when he was slapped back down as Raptor-6 exploded, a Garundin plasma bolt smashing into it’s mangled turret; he died before he’d even realized what’d happened. The next shot slammed into Raptor-1, searing its turret and gunner away as well, sending super-heated gases boiling through the hull of the APC but, unlike Raptor-6, Rapto-1 had its rear hatch open and that acted like a nozzle, directing the gases straight into one Troop Leader Stilson, incinerating him on the spot.

---

Gerad surveyed the carnage with appreciation. One enemy strong point shattered, the survivors rattled and exposed and a potentially serious weapon destroyed, all in a few moments; all in all a great success. ”C’mon ye slackers!” He chided to the squad as he opened fire on the now scattered and exposed thugs with his VLA. ”Them boy’o ain’t a pity fuck, dey no gonna jus’ lay der an’ take it!”

Jeel watched the chaos happen. He was in utter horror. "We are so screwed." A voice behind him snipped in. "That's so cute~! Your shaking in your boots~!" Jeel turned around to see Ducaelia uncloak, laying on the back of the truck with a stinger pointed at his head. "What the f-" And Jeel's head bursted from the Stinger round going through his head. Ducaelia got up to the body and looked for a grenade, trying to repeat her earlier trick. Sadly, he did not have one, but his buddy in the seat that watched his friend died did. She pulled her head out of the was as the thugs shot out the port, dislodging the dead body out of the way. When his clip was empty, Ducaelia jumped down and slashed his chest with her claws, carving deep lines in his body. She grabbed the grenade and pulled the pin before activating her Shield in it's direction.
Ducaelia hit the side of the truck with a loud thud. The truck was now on its side, a gaping hole above her where the rear door was. She had a leg on her. "Ewww, disgusting!" and she tossed it aside. She stood up and dusted herself. "One painfully down, several to go. Ow."

Pulov Gorcht liked it when a carefully laid out plan came together nicely. It was the essence of hard calculations and procedural steps, and working in conjunctions toward a desired outcome that thrilled him the most. It didn't matter to him what it was. It could be the combining of stimulants and propagating fumes into one of his addictive concoctions or even the organized distribution of his works, hitting each population center at just the right place and time for the fad to gain traction. Everything was a mere puzzle piece to be added to the grander scheme; with each new piece fitted in was an accomplishment and Pulov Gorcht loved it when the puzzle came together.

Pulov Gorcht however was now furious that his latest scheme, his puzzle, had fallen apart before him. His once cool, sly and assured demeanor had evaporated. Lost to confusion and rage. A problem he had never accounted for had befallen him, like a stain on a fine dress or an alien ingredient in his black market elixir, changing the dynamic of the grander picture. The change was unjust, heretical even. It needed to be purged.

Upon learning that his elaborate setup that powered Lasminee's slave control had be undone by human hands, he had gathered his entire crew from all the districts he ruled over and brought them along in his personal crusade to fix his latest dilemma. All he wanted was results and the amount of fodder needed to resolve the matter was beyond his care. However, he was now beginning to regret not calling Deval for back up.

He had brought a sizable force that could quell any resistance that stood before him. Sending an entire company size force to deal with supposedly five troublemakers would've been consider overkill in retrospect but those same five troublemakers however possessed a tank, specifically the tank that Deval had gifted him personally. Now, his hate and spite had been halted and his shouts and angry banter silenced. At the end of his previous disputes, typically a resolution was brought forth, forcefully in most case and he was usually happy then. He had no remedy for this problem however. Pulov Gorcht could only watch helplessly as his grunts and assets vanished before him.

---

Sven kept the Chimera on course the best he could. The mammoth tank wasn't meant to aggressively advanced with a shot lift engine. Those were usually grounds to pull back and limb home. Doctrine would even dictate the vehicle to hold position and fight off all enemy combatants until relieved or overrun. But given their circumstance, the only path for them was forward and utterly murdering anything that was on that path. With everyone attending to the flanks, he kept his focus to the cluster of confused and likely frightened and desperate hostiles before him. The Chimera's barriers handled the incoming fire with ease and only briefly flickered with the volume of impacts increased. Still, it was not enough. As the auto guns made short work of the lightly armored fodder in front, Sven brought he tank's main gun to the center row of APCs that had finally decided to fall back. They were too slow though. Within seconds, the Chimera's heavy plasma cannon had charged up and the moment it reached it's peak hold capacity, Sven pulled the trigger.

A red beam streaked out from the barrel and struck the lead vehicle he had targeted. The round punched through the APC's defenses and detonated. The vehicle was practically erased from reality and anything within the tremendous blast radius was violently torn to ribbons or incinerated. Five APCs and some gun trucks laid on the ground as burning husks while several bodies and scorch marks where a corpse would've been littered the burned earth. Others whom were, questionably fortunate, to have survived the blast writhed on the ground on fire or weakly moved around. With their number being reduced drastically, what remained of what was a company-sized force, having now lost all moral and willingly to fight began to retreat. Many of the still functioning APCs still slowly reversing were then abandoned, their crews genuinely believing they were operating a metal coffins opted out and made a run for it some of the more agile gun trucks had turned around and took off with many infantry piling in the back of them.

Despite an assured victory unfolding before him, Sven however was still engrossed with the deadly assets he had control over. One of the Chimera's other weapons that were not used against them was a set of missile launchers mounted to the turret. Given range at where they fought the tank, the missiles would've been somewhat impractical to use, especially against such small numbers. But in front of him was a target rich environment with enemies scattered at all ranges. Perfect target practice. He summoned up the control and targeting scheme for the launchers and began plugging in target markers. The tank's HUD illuminated and designated his targets on screen. All he simply had to do was choosing the firing pattern, the volley count, and the Chimera's OS would do the rest. All four launchers vomited plumes jettisoned smoke as rocketing projectiles screamed out from their firing tubed and shot up into the air. Sven watched, intrigued in the method of how the missiles would attack their targets. Instead of the expected horizontal approach, the missiles would instead go vertical and then slam down on their targets. And that's what they did. The missiles found their marks and crashed into masses of retreating infantry and gun trucks, generating towers of fire from the impacts.

All that was left now was the command jeep with its single occupant firing upon the Chimera. The effort was futile although as Sven drove the tank closer, the individual became familiar to him.

---

Silas, still atop the Chimera's turret watched the carnage unfold. Within a matter of a few minutes, the once sizable force was reduced to nothingness. At this point, they were in the clear. However, there was one matter they needed to attend to and it was a prime opportunity they couldn't let go. The Chimera finally halted in front of a jeep where it's stone-faced occupant, having emptied the magazine of their weapon, was now staring at the tank's cannon barrel that had leveled with his face.

Seeing this, Silas rose from his armed spot and climbed down from the tank, his Death's Grasp in hand. The figure turned to him, anger still radiating from their expression and remained undeterred when Silas pointed his signature large caliber handcannon at him, "Pulov Gorcht, I presume?"

"Whose asking?" Gorcht replied.

"No one that you would know," said Silas, "not that it would matter anyway. Let see those hands."

Gorcht defied the request and retained his glare.

"Hands."

Still nothing.

Silas groaned, "fine then. Cyne?"

In an instant, Gorcht felt a hot stinging sensation spread from the soft surface of the joint of his legs, opposite of his kneecaps. In that moment, he lost all stabilization and he crumpled to his knees. Stunned, he looked around, trying to deduce what had happened. He soon found his answer as an HF blade appeared to the left of his face, just as a humanoid figure materialized behind him.

"How about now?"

"Go to hell, you bastard."

While annoyed at Gorcht's defiance, it was inconsequential where he complied or not. Now that Gorcht was right where he wanted him, he pressed the barrel of his pistol to the Horseman's head. He then turned to Cyne, "remind me again, what's this guy's bounty again? Dead or alive?"

As if he knew where this was leading, Cyne replied with a sigh, "Alive. Authorities what him for information regarding the whereabouts of his drug caches that are being used to fuel his operation on other systems. Taking those out would dismantle his operations completely."

Understanding the meaning behind that statement, Gorcht growled and tried to get up in an instinctive and rage-induced attempt to wring the neck of his supposed assailant. Not that it would do him any good. He was however quickly reminded about his position as the flat side of the HF blade slapped him across his cheek. He clenched his teeth in spite and hate as he remained where he was.

Cyne eventually continued though the edged part of his HF blade turned toward Gorcht's face, "though in my humble opinion, I don't think anyone would miss him if something were to, happen, to him."

"I concur and I would be almost happy to make the arrangement, especially after all," Silas leaned in closer to Gorcht, "this prick put us through. But I want the big pay off. He lives."

Suddenly and in quick succession, Silas flipped his gun around to where he was now holding the barrel and frame work of the weapon, just before bringing the hard bottom of the handle down against Gorcht's head. With a crack resonating from the impact, Gorcht slumped over, unconscious.

Silas backed off and drew a breath of relief before holstering his weapon. He looked around his teammates whom had encircled the scene, "One down, three to go. Everyone gets an hour to chill. Sven, get MACK to send us a care package."

"On it!"

A few minutes later, an object no bigger than an averaged-sized car fell out of the sky and slammed into the road close by. Silas had planned several rocket pods to be requisitioned when needed. The pods themselves contained everyone's spare equipment, ammunition, and other supplies ranging from medical equipment to rations. He even managed to get an assortment of alcoholic beverages mixed in as well. After everyone has taken what was needed, the pod would then lockdown and could not be opened until recovered later. As everyone relaxed and resupplied, Silas reached for his communicator to contact the Resistance about their newly acquired bounty.

Gerad kept up his own fire on the scattering thugs right up until the point that Sven brought the Chimera into play and brought the fight to a rather spectacular and definite end; all except for one human. He had to give the male credit, it took nerve to keep popping away at a tank with a little slug thrower like that.

While Silas and Cyne when to speak with the poor bastard, Gerad made a quick survey of the battlefield. The gear on the bodies that hadn’t been reduced to ash by the various flavors of plasma weapons was disconcertingly mediocre. Knock-off tac-gear copied from stuff that’d been retired years ago and the same thing could be said about the weapons. Annoyed that there wasn’t anything interesting to salvage this time, he made his way back to Silas and the others.

Finally getting a look at their new ‘friend’, he let out a short chuckle. ”If only all dem wuz nice ‘nuff to come t’ us.” Clambering up onto the back of the truck, he took a look around and poked Gorcht, sort of, carefully with an armoured foot. ”Gott’s a say Boss, no tha’ tick’d by these fella. Mos’ dem kit should’a been skragg’d ‘fore these fellas born. Only thing worth Ancestor’s Piss I seen been them clank suits an’ spookies we stomped, and da’ big boi right ‘ere.” He added, waving to the tank with on of his secondary arms.”Militia spec no’ even call dis set Reserves.”

Since things things seemed to have calmed down, and with Silas calling for a ReSup and breather, Gerad carefully moved Gorcht off of the gun truck and set him somewhere out from under foot. Once the supply pack landed, he retrieved a breathing mask before parking himself back on the truck. Exiting his armour, he slipped on his breather and activated a rapid repair mode. ” ‘S a mite un-nice t’ be in der…nannies’ll use y’ fer spares if y’ not watch’n.” Stepping away from his battered looking armour, a stream of sliver composed entirely of nanobots swarmed out of the micro-assembler, first enveloping the armour and then spreading out across the truck; after a few moments the truck looked like it was beginning to dissolve as the nanobots scavanged it for base materials to affect repairs on Gerad’s armour.

While that was getting going, he snagged a drink and a snack from the pod before heading for the Chimera. ”Dunno ‘ow much I c’n fix th’ big heat,” He said, motioning to the nominally working plasma cannon. ”But ah should be able t’ fix th’ limpin’ somewhat.” As with anything Garundin, as soon as he’d heard Silas planing the ReSup pods, he’d made sure there was as extensive as tool supply as possible on board. Now equipped with said tools, he set to work on the damaged lift engine humming an old Militia war song as he worked.

Ducaelia stuck her arm out the hole and lifted herself up. When she got on top the APC, she flopped onto her back huffing. She raised a single servo up to wave for attention. When no one acknowledged her, she got a little angry. She slid off and stumbled over to the Chimera. When Silas dropped the vehicle, Ducaelia groaned. "This bastard has wasted SSOOOO much of our precious time, why couldn't he just be more cooperative and let us break shit?" She hissed and grabbed her rear. Her left hip servo was not agreeing with her. "...oww..." She let out cutely. Her lights were all purple. She looked at Gerad. "I think my servo locked up...Could you carry me to the car please~? I'll let you examine my tech later~."

”Vairyo, A O/A Hom Va Ya Ray/Vairyo, A Ray/Jerhume Brunnen G” Tinkering with the blasted lift engine, Gerad inflicted move bodily harm to the machine as he cannibalized parts from its cross-hull counterpart; normally such a thing would have seriously upset him on a professional level, but it’s not like they were going to be taking the Chimera with them when they left.

While he worked, he tapped back into the weapons systems and did a bit more tinkering with the main gun’s OS. What he’d uploaded was still not great for what it was trying to do, but he made a few tweaks and cut out a couple of features to try and simplify the process, leaving the computer to run an update while he fiddled with the mechanical bits.
-
All-in-all, it was a success. The repair worked, to a point, and the gun was stabilized to reduce the risk of killing the driver/anyone near it. Before him was a small collection of odds and ends he’d stripped out of the tank, and after peering over them he had an idea; a rather loud part of his brain said it was a bad idea because of Ducaelia’s seeming ‘instability’…but given her stealth capabilities and short range combat style, she was the logical choice. His armour had finished its self-repair cycle not long ago and stood amid the corroded remains of the technical that the nanites had scavenged for raw materials.

Now he went over and triggered the reload sequence for the PRP, catching the partially used capacitor as it was ejected. As he set to work on his idea, combining the capacitor, some tank parts and a few small nano-forge components, he heard Ducaelia call out for him. ” ’ang on clankie.” He called out. ”Gotta banger f’r ya, jus’ need t’ kit it up, an’ get m’ clank suit runnin’.” Shortly after, he finished his little project and clambered back into his armour, slotting his tools and the loot he’d picked up, into the drop pod Silas had called down. That sorted, he headed for the smaller vandrell.

”Oi clankie,” He said as he got over to her. ”Le’s crack th’ case an’ ‘ave a look!” As he spoke, his armour mounted combi-cutter un-limber and swing into a ‘ready’ state; however, before Ducaelia could really react, the combi retracted once more and Gerad let out a short ‘chuffing’ laugh. ”Jus’ pokin’ ya, c’mon.” Her size, relative to his, made picking her up a tad awkward, but especially in his armour, her weight was no issue. Bringing Ducaelia over, he propped her against the side of the tank, while he had a look at her servo.

” ‘s no bad.” He said after a moment, bringing his smaller tool equipped, secondary hands into play. ”Got a bit ‘a scoring on th’ socket an’ a slight burr, but ah c’n clean tha’ up sharpish.” With his left secondary hand on her hip, he watched though his helmet feed as a series of nano-scanners fed data to him from inside the joint. With his right, he brought a set of microscopic set of grinders and polishers that he then used to smooth the damaged parts. In short order he was done and stepped back. ”All riky-tik, an’ like I said;” He added, pulling out the capacitor, which now had a small metal plate on one side, a power supply and some other odds and sods attached to it. ”Got a banger f’r ya.”

”Sucker Charge,” He said as he handed it over, pointing to a single use switch on the side. ”Hit tha’ an’ th’ mag plate goes ‘ot an’ ‘ll stick t’ most metals; but do it sharpish as it’ll pop about 30 sec after y’ push it…I’m sure y’ c’n find a proper spot t’ use it.”

With all that done, he comm’d Sven. ”Hey clanker, got th’ tank patched. Lifte’ works but ‘ad t’ nick bits from its twin, so ‘s no wha’ she once was…but better th’n ‘fore; an’ did a prop fix on th’ big burner. May still over-load, bu now’ll jus’ skrag the turret an’ no’ th’ ‘hole unit.”

Much of the recreational hour was spent settling down or gearing up for the next eventual task. Cyne had since retrieved a magnetic rail firing system from the resupply pod and traded in the traditional mechanism he started the mission out with. Having only helped with fighting the Chimera before commandeering it, Cyne had been forced to use other external means in order to participate in the struggle. Figuring that they would be going up against Deval and his mechanized forces, having a railgun setup and specialized ammunition to crack open anything well armored would be extremely useful. After taking what he required, he placed his unused equipment into the pod where it would lock up once they left. Instead of grabbing a cold one, Cyne seemed more intrigued with the HF blade he had snagged earlier than anything else.

While everyone seemed to mind their own business, he practiced swinging the sword in tandem with the martial arts he'd been trained in. While his form was by no means elegant, it was practical and albeit fluid enough to catch anyone off guard and take them out. His taught style evoked redirection and the disruption of a foe's attacks. Typically meant to disarm an attacker before grappling them and pinching in their sensitive nerve points as a method of forcing a surrender. However, it has been a long while since he had to do anything like that. He had since adopted a more violent and serpentine approach, involving the use of a knife or a dagger in most cases and preferring to cut his opponents up. The HF blade now made the style, and he in relation, all the more dangerous.

Despite the repurposing the Chimera having been more of a means to an end and thus a temporary measure given the damage they inflicted on it, Sven and Gerad seemed content with making the war machine operational again, even as far as undoing the damage the had dealt and repairing the thing. Silas had considered opting for his squad to abandon the tank but seeing as they were now so caught up with its reconstitution, he ultimately decided to let the subject go. However, he did have lingering thoughts of where to keep the damn thing if they ended up seriously wanting to have it for themselves, likely suggesting for it to be an occupational asset for the mercenary unit. How or where would he even find the resources to maintain it? What were the expenses like? Keeping the Legion's End maintained was already a financial drain and the Crimson Fang only added more to the operation bill.

Unlike the rest of his team, Silas was keeping it chill. He had contacted the resistance to retrieve the unconscious Pulov Gorcht and evacuate him from the operation area. Perhaps evacuation was too caring of a word. If anything, the slimeball would eventually wake up to an inquisition of vengeance-minded rebels ready to prod him for information. Although Silas had given them strict instructions not to rough up the captured Horseman too much as he was still a bounty that needed to be turned in. He could only hope resistance we keep their word.

---

Once their time was up, everyone was one the move again. Their destination; toward the sound of distant gunfire. With the control towers no longer operational, the resistance was quick to capitalize on the confusion that consumed Lasminee’s ranks as their once captive slaves discovered that there was nothing stopping them from rebelling against their taskmasters. Since then. Lasminee’s forces had little choice but to congregate to their center of operations as a preventive measure from being isolated by the blitzing rebels. After some time of fighting, the echoing shots became distant but remained intense with explosions sounding off in the night.

As Silas’ troupe drew closer to the fighting, signs of struggle were littered throughout the city. Buildings were blasted apart or riddled to pieces by automatic fire. Bodies, mostly of Lasminee’s flock, laid dead across the streets and debris. Passing deeper though the city and closer to the actions, resistance fighters had setup a network of aid stations, tending to the wounded and resupplying those able to fight. Along those streets, fighters were either moving toward the frontline while those, either wounded or dying or having spent all their ammunition where approaching opposite from the action. Cyne could see that there were more returning than those heading it.

The battle that was taking place surrounded a trio of executive towers linked to central elevated spire. Given the size of the towards and the spike the protruded higher up, the whole design was practically a skyscraper. Made sense too as the structure was the center point of Duran’s business sector, now occupied by Lasminee. Not for long, however. While multiple firefights had broken out across the district, the main engagement was within the executive building’s plaza. The space that accommodated the plaza was roughly the same size as a football stadium where a courtyard took up the majority of the estate while rows of parking spaces surrounded it. Since the fighting has broken, many parked vehicles ended up being used as defensive positions, many of which were essentially destroyed though their mass still provided sufficient protection from small arms fire.

While the resistance had the area surrounded, they found that they had very little in the way of usable terrain to cover themselves as they tried to push to the executive towers. The towers themselves unfortunately were quite fortified, with its defenses bristled with machine gun nests and mortar emplacements. If that was not bad enough, once Silas and his team had arrived, they had learned by several rebel scouts that Lasminee possessed a duo of Chimera tanks and several powered armor teams covering the flanks of the towers. Silas grimaced on the thought of going up against another Chimera, or even two of them while there own was in, doable, shape. He knew that assaulting Lasminee’s fortress would be difficult but not this absurd. This was border lining facing Deval’s bulwark and he had many more assets to use.

For not at least, Lasminee’s defenders were not making any pushes for a counterattack and were manly focused on keeping the resistance fighter’s out though given the positioning of the rebels, a counter attack could very well break the encirclement. Such a breach would force the fighters to retreat and cause their lines to faulter. Silas thought hard about their circumstance. They could take on one of the Chimeras head on but having a second tank commit to the fray against them would be disastrous. Separating the vehicles and preventing them from supporting each other was likely the best approach. How they could do that was a different matter. In addition, powered armor troops were present too and would undoubtedly back up the tanks if they came under attack. The trooper’s mobility would make them perfect for screening against anti-armor attacks and just as well as intercepting other threats. Finally, the entrenched hooligans would offer up fierce opposition to anyone daring to charge their armed fortifications.

Silas pondered some more before turning his attention to his assembled team. They had drove their captured Chimera closer to the action beneath a disemboweled residential but out of sight from the defenders. Although since their position was so close to the fighting with gunfire was still exploding around, everyone could still hear one another relatively fine as the roof that was barely holding out above them created an artificial filter from the action outside.

“So not a lot of great news for us here. Lasminee is all cozied up in her tower and she has a hell of a fortification for us to try and break. Unlike last time, we have tanks – yes, that was plural – power armor and loads of angry infantry all wrapped into one gift basket, courtesy of the devil,” Silas shot a glance at the towers with a grunt before turning back, “I’ll be honest, this is not going to be a pretty fight and will be pretty much balls-to-the-walls fighting. We can’t just charge down the middle with two tanks and a shit-load of barrels ordinance shooting at us.”

After a pause, he continued, “Best way we’re going to make it through this is drawing the attention, preferably half of the defenders, away from our attack route. Reducing the number of guns being pointed at us will give us more room to breathe. My only worry though is that provoking a counter attack will do us arm as it will encourage Lasminee’s attacking troops to loop around and flank us if we’re not quick enough hitting those barricades. I’m open to suggestions since this is not going to be a simple matter.”

Ducaelia turned to him with a slight flare of red from her lights. "How blind are you? Yes this place is heavily defended, but making ourselves known? That's just stupid! Yes, they know someone's here, but who, they have no clue. I say we attempted going through maintenance, plumbing, or some other alternative of getting in. Me and Cyne could recon while ya'll keep outta the way, or make minor distractions while we do so. I could easily scramble their surveillance from here, since I already know their comm. frequency. The only downside is it would take and hour at most to do, three-forths that if we're lucky."

Gerad took in the defensive position they needed to get inside, read the intel reports from the Resistance; all in all it looked pretty grim. Well dug in light infantry with heavy infantry support, armour and fire support. With the size of the towers, the OpFor had long sight-lines to spot any massing of troops for an assault and call down mortars, and the approaches to the towers proper where very exposed and covered by over-lapping emplaced weapons.

A Militia assault would’ve involved limited kinetic strikes from low orbit, followed by massed volleys of PRP fire as several cohorts of Militia troopers advanced from several directions, using sheer numbers and armour to force through the kill zones. The garundin mindset would accept the inevitable casualty numbers that no modern humans would.

He ran a few thoughts through his head while Silas called for ideas, eventually deciding to bring up two. He greatly favoured the first one though he had little hope that anyone else would appreciate the simplicity and practicality; the other one was actually sounding like a variation of what Ducaelia was suggesting, just from the other side of things. ”Got two knockres f’r ya Boss Man, though don’t think y’ll do th’ sharpish an’ go wit’ th’ firs’ one.” Grabbing a piece of dislodged reinforcing bar from the rubble, he used it as a marker to sketch out his plan as he talked.
”Firs’. We leave th’ tank here and skarper back t’ th’ End and make a hard burn f’r th’ local rock belt. We snag a couple o’ rocks ‘bout th’ size of a big hab block an’ then come back. On our way in we till the Rebs t’ make as big a clanger as th’y c’n and make th’ Lasminee lot hunker up; as we get to low orbit or high atmo, tell the Rebs t’ leg it as we drop th’ rocks. Firs’ rock is f’r th’ DefGuns, they skrag Rock One but Rock Two’ll be ‘ard up it’s shitter an’ th’y won’t ‘ave time t’ skrag it to. We c’n be of lookin’ f’r th’ las’ two ‘fore sundown.”

He looked about to make sure the other were still listening before he scrubbed out the sketch he’d made on the floor with his foot. ”But since you ‘umans always gotta do t’ings th’ ‘ard way, we got number two.” The tone of his voice made it clear which option he was in favour of. ”Like th’ clankie said, she an’ Cyen go in all knify-shiv-dark, play merry scrags t’ their gear an’ hopefully slip in and nap the target. Outside, I tie th’ tank t’ me for off-’and control and th’ rest of us lot, Rebs too, kick th’ front door. Tankie plays bait an’ takes th’ hits f’r us…let ‘m break their own toys while we push ‘ard. Once th’ sneakies give th’ call th’y Lasminee we fall back, let ‘m t’ink we don’ got th’ nerve t’ push t’ win.”

Silas eyed Ducaelia though seemingly unfazed by her open minded and direct statement. He would concur with her assessment that tackling the enemy's fortified position head on, with or without support from the resistance wouldn't be in their best interests in the long run and many things had to go right for them to make it through. Dealing with tanks, power armor, and entrenched infantry would be surely pushing their luck to very dangerous extents. Even he knew this was not a favorable gamble. What Ducaelia proposed would be for her and Cyne to infiltrate the Lasminee's defense line and disrupt their ability to communicate and perhaps cause deathly chaos behind enemy lines. Silas certainly was giving that idea some thought.

Gerad then gave his own opinions regarding their predicament. His first suggestion was colorful at best but something that was pushing their operational capacity. What the Garundin was suggesting was essentially bombing the towers' fortifications with small asteroids. Certainly possible but they neither the time nor could they do it safely either. There was a reason they landed the Legion's End outside the city and further more why they weren't using the Crimson Fang as usable fire-support; Deval's PMC forces. From what he learned from the resistance, well in advance before they even came to Precolis, was that the Horsemen had established several anti-air emplacements, including multiple hyper-velocity SAMs, within the City of Duran. Bringing in either craft near the city would guarantee AA attacks but also risking Deval's forces to mobilize. They simply could not afford a professional army hunting for them, that was for sure.

The Garundin's second suggestion was more applicable with what they could do and was within the realm of possibility for sure and lined up with Ducaelia's idea as well. Silad crossed his arms and lowered his head, eyes closed. A brief moment later, he had it.

"Sorry Gerad, but orbitally bombarding the enemy with space rocks is out of the question. The plan will take too long and will get us into more trouble than you think. The last thing we want is drawing Deval's attention to our little war with Lasminee. I've no doubt that if we give them the time, we'll have PMC forces rushing down our throats. No, we deal with this now," said Silas as he looked over to one of the Resistance company commanders and motioned him over, "So here is what we'll do instead..."

Silas explained his plan to everyone. As it turned out, he liked Ducaelia's concept and opted for her and Cyne to reconnoiter ahead until the penetrate the fortifications surrounding the executive towers. During this time Silas, Sven, and Gerad, along with the resistance would make their move. The plan would be to intentionally provoke the defenders to counterattack by breaking the encirclement the resistance had established. The action would be a process for sure. The idea was for the resistance fighters to discreetly amass at a certain sector of their encirclement and perform a feint attack to draw the defender's attention to them. Once enough guns were trained on them, the rebels would then disengage and disperse while allied fire shifted elsewhere. It was a gamble but if the defenders genuinely believed that the advantage had become theirs, they would give chase and likely leaving a smaller force to defend the towers. That was when phase two of the plan would come into action.

Assuming that Cyne and Ducaelia were in position and having already disrupted communications and any surveillance that could tip Lasminee's guards off, that would be when Silas' group would commit to a coordinated attack with his infiltrators. While attacking the front, Cyne and Ducaelia would dispense with emplacements; silencing any fortified guns before going after the specialized troops. With no way to communicate with their allies, the defenders would be unable to recognize the threat behind them until it was too late. Silas was counting on establishing a crossfire that would eventually eliminate the towers' defenses entirely. If they were quick enough, they could even very well occupy the fortifications to destroy the counterattack force once they discovered that they had been tricked.

With no other suggestions mentioned and everyone settled with the plan, Silas had ordered to make it so.

---

With intel on the business district logistics layout provided by the resistance commander, Cyne and Ducaelia made their way to the sewer system that would lead them to the underground facility beneath the executive towers. The commander has informed them of his comrades having ventured down through the same tunnels but never coming back. It was likely that the underground network was monitored but by what exactly, they didn't know for sure. Regardless of the danger, it was up to both Ducaelia and Cyne reach their destination. After trekking through the dark and dank network, it would become apparent to the both of them that the specters responsible for the rebel scouts' disappearances were more of Madlock's red-eyed assassins. Although they were not as numerable as before and were easy pickings for Cyne and Ducaelia. The venture took approximately roughly a half and hour until they reached the tower's waste disposal site.

The platform they arrived to was about two stories in height and about just as wide as the positioning the towers. Massive chemical and waste collection tanks separated throughout the complex though always integrated with the support beams and framework beneath each tower. As Cyne deployed Pathfinder to scout ahead, they found that the complex was surprisingly ill-guarded with perhaps fifteen or so thugs scouring the place. It was evident that they were entirely relying on Madlock's Ravens to rid them of any problems that would come their way. After verifying that there was no way sneaking past them, Cyne turned to Ducaelia as they perched over one of the catwalks, like predators stalking and observing their prey.

"Looks like with have ourselves and odd number," Cyne openly stated with a deathly grin as he unsheathed his HF blade, "how about we make this a small competition? What do you say?"

Ducaelia looked at the sniper with could only be seen as lust. She leaned on him with an arm around him. "We could always share~..." She then got off him and sauntered forward, her claws lighting up in the gloom. She looked back at him and struck a pose. "...Or would that be too much for you~?" She giggled and her lights turned off except her blazing claws.

Cyne observed Ducaelia as she moved in and half-wrapped around him; he was still smiling and seemed pleased that he had her attention. Unlike on the Legion's End where he was more focused and professional minded, Cyne was looking forward to the fight ahead of them and he felt glee in that fact. If anything, he was in the moment; he was pumped.

"Can't share with an odd number, unless one of 'em has a heart attack," replied Cyne and he tiled his spider-esque sensors to the fifteen guards whom had spotted them had had their weapons raised and pointed at them.

Cyne wasn't sure when or how they were spotted but in the end it benefited them. With the facility they were in as big as it was, it would've been a chore to scour around each structural corridor and pipe just to snuff just one of the guards out. Now that they were all condensed in what spot and notably nervous now that they were being forced into combat, it made things all the much easier.

He regarded Ducaelia only briefly before stepping off the catwalk, "try to keep up," Cyne was then in freefall with his HF blade drawn. Thugs shouted to one another and took aim at Cyne. But they were seconds too late as he vanished into thin air.

In that moment, the guards became stumped but also highly cautious, frantically looking for the intruder whom lunged at them, even as far as forgetting there was a second intruder present. The guard closest to the catwalk noticed something in front them him but found nothing there. That was still the case until his stomach ruptured into a spray of red. The unfortunate guard collapsed backwards though his upper torso came loose and separated from the waist down where his body was originally conjoined. Blood sprayed from both ends, further startling the thuggish men and women in the assembly. The nearest of them began opening fire in their fallen comrade's direction upon sighting something vaguely humanoid and coated in blood charging at him.

The game was on now.

As the two infiltrators made their way inside, Gerad did a few last minute checks on the tank and made a rather useful discovery. Buried behind a rather poor repair committed by the previous owners, he found a storage port that contained a remote command console; after doing a quick self-test, it appeared to still function, so he gave it to Sven, so he could still use the tank without have to be in such a massive target. While a Chimera was a tough nut, there was certainly enough dug in firepower to pose a real threat to it.

”Roight den clanker,” He said, finishing the rundown by pointing out a large button under a safety cover. ”Las’ t’ing. Dat’s th’ demo charge, pop dat an’ watch th’ glow…my t’ink bein’ when th’ attack ‘fails’, an’ assumin’ the tanks no skragged yet, ye fake it goin’ down, let ‘em swarm past den….” He made a clicking sound with his tongue while smiling. ” ‘tween skragged comms an’ a glassed front door, th’y ‘ll be good an’ buggered.”

---

With the attack commencing, Gerad concentrated on drawing as much fire his way as possible. Lancing the dung in infantry with laser fire, he volleyed plasma at what power armour and tanks he could see. As return fire howled back, he took shelter behind his barrier and shields, while his armour’s onboard ECM suite did its best to scramble any hostile targeting systems.

Staying as mobile as possible, he also did his best to keep away from his teammates and the Resistance fighters as they were all so much more fragile than he was and he was drawing a lot of fire. His defences and armour seemed to be holding, and at least for the moment, the power armour troops and tanks seemed to be holding back for which he was rather thankful. Rock drop woulds been so much simpler…

Ducaelia quickly jumped into the guards and started her count, but still being playful with Cyne for sharing. She got to one guard who only held a stun rod. "You wouldn't hurt a woman, would you~?" She said, putting herself in the mot appealing position possible at the moment. The guard looked at her dumbfounded, with a dull "uhh..." resounding from him. Her lights quickly flared green, and she quickly tore his throat out effortlessly. She grabbed the body and used it like a shield, firing off her stingers on the group, giving them two adversaries on two sides to deal with.
She saw Cyne's trail and she let a few lights go pink. "Hey darling~, could you wipe the floor with these Spineless Bastards before they alert anyone please~? I'll let you have the next captain~."

Cyne closed in on his second victim, rapidly hurdling himself forward with each extended foot step in serpentine fashion. Projectiles whizzed passed him as the group attempted to focus fire into his charge. While he was still coated in fresh and warm crimson, his optical camouflage still removed much of his profile from view, thus making him an imperfect target. Eventually after braving the hail of fire, he made contact with his frightened adversary and ran him through. The HF blade practically passed through his foe effortlessly and without resistance. The thug however was able to struggle against Cyne and frantically tried to push him away. Cyne could only assume that his enemy's body had yet to even register the compromising sword, seeing as though it had made a clean penetration, though he rightly suspected that would soon change.

The thug eventually became weak and noticeably slowed in their defiance; just as Cyne predicted. Taking advantage of the moment, he caught the dying man by their shoulder and spun him around so they faced their comrades. While his HF blade in his left hand and wrapped securely around the thug's neck, Cyne quickly retrieved his handgun from its holster and fired into the squad before him. Two of them went under his fire but the rest responded in kind. This dying captive was ripped to bloody ribbons but Cyne knew better than to stay any longer in his failing position and pushed the tattered corpse forward as he himself rolled away from the fray.

The conventional barrage ceased as the remaining members found no trace of their adversary and once more were in a panicked state, worrying where Cyne had gone but also filled with fearful concern of the other intruder tearing apart the nearby squad. Some shifted focus while others remained in their place, eyes darting over the carnage around them. There was nothing. But Cyne was still there. Having evaded the vengeful counterattack, Cyne had made the unusual choice of going prone only a couple of meters away. His cloak was still up and the red stains that covered him blended in with the mess he had created. He laid there motionless and watching as his quarry scampered about, unsure what to do. It was then that Ducaelia, ever in her seductively teasing tone, advised - more of a reminder if anything - that they were still subject in raising an alert of their presence.

And she was right.

Positioned just behind the still live and breathing infantry was in fact the head of the two squads, looking onwards as numbers were cut down. Cyne watched as the warden reached for what seemed to be a communication device of sorts. Cynes eyes widened. Having their cover blown this early in their scheme would prove detrimental to the efforts Silas and the others were making to keep the fight upstairs focused on them. Giving the defenders more reason to maintain their fortified positions would ruin everything. Unacceptable.

"More for me I suppose," Cyne replied.

Cyne, still prone on the bloody floor, summoned Pathfinder from its harness and ordered it to attack. The small drone squalled in acknowledgement and shot into the air. Armed with a pair of mounted sub-machine guns, Pathfinders strafed the rear guard, causing the thugs there to scramble for cover, unsure of where the incoming fire was originating from. The warden ended up getting hit several times but surprisingly, none of the injuries were fatal. But that was fine by Cyne. The device the Warden was holding fell from their grasp and ended up sliding across the floor with no one to pursue it. Cyne was then on the move again.

Rolling to his feet, Cyne dashed forward and in plain sight. His optical camo clearing, giving out under the erratic movements but he either didn't notice or seemingly uncaring. With his HF blade raised again, he caught one of the rising thugs by the neck; the sword cleanly cutting though in a horizontal motion, prompted the doomed man to crumple in place, just as their head came undone. Not even surrendering any of his momentum, Cyne pushed forward and leapt toward another stunned ruffian. However, instead of dealing them a death blow, he simply jinked to their flank and delivered a balancing kick. The move itself was not offensive in nature but more so to propel himself forward at the expense of a live body. The thug, unsure what had happened, suddenly found themselves hurled forward; right into Ducaelia's path. In tandem with the act, Cyne had drawn his pistol again and put a round into another thug, this one nearly prepared for him was slower on the trigger than Silas's sniper.

With another one down, the rest of the guards were becoming more delirious of their deteriorating circumstances. Their enemies were only two people, but they had single handedly cleaved through two thirds of their total occupying force of the disposal facility. The remainder that could still stand were now wanting nothing more than to hightail it out of the fight. Believing their foes to be specters, several bolted away and ran toward the main elevator. They would have made it too if it were not Pathfinder materializing before them and cutting them down. That only left just a few within Ducaelia's deathly reach and the warden beneath the barrel of Cyne's pistol.

---

@Arthanus@Athol@Jamesyco

The plan seemed to be working well. With their last radio check-in, Cyne and Ducaliea had infiltrated the underground facility beneath the executive towers and were now making their way toward the enemy's communications and logistics center, silencing anyone unfortunate enough to get in their way. It was only a matter of time now until both of them were in position so Silas could push through with his power play. However, that was assuming everything went according to plan. This was also riding on Lasminee's forces following his game plan as well. Given how spread thin their encirclement was, any hint of weakness observed by the defenders would welcome breakthrough charge. If that happened, Silas would have very few options and that was to either fight or flight.

Sven and Gerad had made a few additional modifications to the Chimera they repurposed with the idea of controlling it remotely if it was necessary. The Chimera was exactly built around the concept of crewless commands as the vehicle had many complex controls and inputs that required more than one person to operate. Still, the feature was built in as a safety measure for rare occasion. The tank could only be commanded by simplified directional controls as well as automated turret and gun commands. The model they possessed was of an older production block and didn't feature any of the more refined electronic suites that the SSA had mounted on their current production Chimeras. Nevertheless, being able to remotely detonate the tank if their position became compromised would indeed make an excellent trap. But before that time came, Sven was still its commander. Unfortunately, he had been put on standby until given the word. Showing the defenders a hostile tank would undoubtedly rile them up into an attack posture; the opposite of what Silas wanted. He'd considered have Sven join in but having recalled his terrible accuracy at range, it was decided that he would sit out the conflict but at the very lest, being prepared to respond at a moment's notice.

Apparently, that moment was now as what Silas was dreading came to be. Rocketing out from their fortified positions were a team of powered armored troopers heading straight for them. The surrounding rebels intensified their fire on the incoming suits in an attempt to dissuade them but came short as all their weapons did next to nothing against the charging powered armor. Silas cursed as he watched the scene unfold. The hostile powered armor team was likely a recon unit meant to probe the encirclement and gauge the rebel's real strength. He could already see the downside of an appraised defending force now having little to fear from the rebels, knowing that the resistance forces were barely managing their encirclement. Likewise, if the hostile team discovered their Chimera, they would be in more trouble.

That only left Silas and Gerad alone with eight suits to deal with. Silas briefly pondered about Sven getting out of the tank to assist with the powered armor troops but with him being in the tank, it would take time for him to even get out and make his way around to the flank Silas and Gerad were covering; the same flank that the suits were hitting. Eventually, one of the bulky troopers careened into a squad of resistance fighters, sending bodies flying from the impact. Some that managed to survive the initial impact were mowed down by mounted machinegun fire and disappeared in a cloud of mud and blood. Silas grimaced as he watched his allies mulched by enemy heavy weapons fire and turned to Gerad whom was already preparing to engage.

"You don't need my permission to fire. We gotta get rid of these guys or else this entire plan goes to hell!" ordered Silas as he engaged his Shade's Skin. Silas knew this was going to be an intense fight as they were clearly at a disadvantage. With the resistances fighters doing little good against the suits, it was Silas and Gerad whom were in any position of dealing with the blitzing troops with a one to four ratio against them.

Just before the armored trooper team turned their sights on the two mercenaries, an unknown yet familiar voice came over the comms, "I hope you fellas weren't expecting to hog all the action for yourselves."