LustForDecay

The Envenomed: Military Science Fiction Deniable Operations

In minutes the concealed position had been turned into an open-air cemetary as the last of defences manned and summoned was set upon by the suviving opposition bloodied and enraged. Ragged camo cloaks torn with holes and out of which jutted long rifles jabbed at frantic, huddling security forces. Near point blank rifle fire tore clean through metal, ballistic under-weave, and partially augmented bodies in neat holes. Heavy duty scatter-shots tore apart cranial protection and mass alike for those who attempted to escape. The truly determined, whether by devil-may-care bravado or some suicidal proffessionalism, fired wildly at the snaking forms as slugs dove through mist and pointed fangs parted biomass and armor.

It had seemed like a painful forever but one armored, alien foot stomped down on a now fragmented skull and grinded into the mush of metal fragments, bone, and organ mush beneath. The gavel had sounded and silence would not answer; the sound of wreckage burning and the ravenous worms destroying the last bits of troopers they could find continued.

As if to break the tranquillity setting over the pulsing ambience of the distant battle happening just over the ridge of the clifftop they were on, a loud and familiar buzz sounded out from the communicator panel - Salvator's HUD immediately was bombarded with infosharing requests, almost obnoxiously enough that it appeared they were trying to brute force their way into controlling his systems as the device all but rattled and exploded off of his storage.

This time however, the message wasn't spoken aloud but forcefully cracked out of their private coms, into their hearing, internal data receptors, closed communication channels and however else they could intrude.

"We cannot advance any further," To the Envenomed it would be as if someone was yelling into their ear, their very stream of consciousness, or otherwise intruding on their privacy. Yet to anyone else, they would hear nothing beyond maybe a faint buzz at best coming from some of their teammates' helmets. "Resistance is stiff, but we have our targets! Confirm control of artillery piece!"

The very reason they had been sent here sat surrounded by the scattered remains of those who had manned it, an enormous mass like some enormous petty emperor. The four legs it sat on seemed stubby before but they were even thicker than the warform's legs, with visible joints meant to curl up for transportation but for whome the gears and axes that defined them looked like they might crack and break under the mere motion of such. Its cannon was wide; enough to fit one of the civsec troopers in straight into its maw. The smooth surface of it looked unnaturally so; the metal itself a faded greyish-white, as if from some sort of combination of skeletal colour yet sculped almost like marvel if not for the blemishes of lightly glowing ridges and gaps along with subtle bumps along the length of the cannon.

A faint sense of tension pervaded the air; not from the thrill and fury of battle but something else that hung within the very space around it. It tingled skin and caressed bone, seeming to whisper to the mind not in truths or temptations but raw id and seeping symbolism of inexplicable un-logic but something deeper and within every cell and vein. The ZRF troopers staggered about for a second, huffing and stabilizing themselves - some took out chemo injectors but the single remaining gealtirocht grunted as the air in front of his skull distorted for a moment; light simply did not pass through and it blurred as if exposed to intense heat on a summer day.

"We have multiple high-value targets to eliminate. Marking now!"

It was the same fully armored Intransigent commando as earlier, but there was no direct camera feed. There likely wasn't a point; heavy audio-filtering was being employed. Sometimes his words half cut out before the background noise vanished and his voice, forcefully separated from it, spiked in volume almost enough that it began to clip.

Multiple data-uplinks; this time, not requests but forced manifestations upon whatever targeting or HUD systems were in use by the squad. The handheld computer's screen blinked and flickered as it forcefully began to manifest three large upside down orange triangles, tip pointed downwards and distancting in metres manifesting overlaid across their vision if they possessed the cybernetics, biomechanical or otherwise integrated capability for such.

The first target was on the mountain opposite of the very one they stood on; the specific target in general was hard to determine - constantly fluctuating numerical measuresments of distance resulted in the targeter-triangle growing and shrinking. Yet if they zoomed in with whatever optical enhancement capabilities, they would notice quite a few trees shaking about and a large black shape moving between them - something metallic, lumbering, yet not slow - seemingly in the direction of the receding CivSec frontlines.

As harsh as the insurgents had been hit by the civsec defenders, the battle line had moved tremendously since they last spoke with the Intransigence commando group on the ground. The same defensive emplacements once firing at the surge of resistance fighters now found themselves as their beacheads and rallying points for the swarm of darkly patterned troopers and blocky, aged tanks vaulting and rumbling across the battlefield.

The next target marker above a spot roughly 10000 meters away, far off into the defensive lines of the UCL backed lines. A dome like structure of some sort like a giant glassy eye and out of which milled machinery and personnel alike. Targeting data suggested it was a sort of command center of some sort, possibly a major communications hub, and it was by and far the furthest target.

The third however... a red triangle manifested on the corner of their HUD's or equivalents, crossed out by red lines and with an equals sign to its right. [TARGET DATA VERIFYING, PROGRESS UNKNOWN]

"Eliminate both targets."

All the while, the surviving ZRF troopers looked at the squad somewhat impatiently. They were under the impression they were trained to use this technology; some of them certainly looked the part.

"Your hesitation is grating; man that cannon, it's what we brought you along for! The remains of my comrades grows colder by the second."

The same scielto who had spoken with them over the intercepted coms jabbed his finger at the unmanned weapon as the once-bisected human soldier staggered alongside him, his steps unsteady but his agitation no less visible.

"Do not let them get into the com channel. We require the first two targets eliminated before we can reveal the third."

OUTLAW SPACE

How far does the fantasy aspect of it go?

The Envenomed: Military Science Fiction Deniable Operations

As the gunship descended, most had been quick enough to get out of the way as its chin touched the soil followed by the rest of the bulk. Flames and smoke billowed from its husk as it tore up soil and flattened tents underneath, crushing any corpses that lay on the battleifled and smashing a few of the repurposed shipping containers out of the way. As if dead-set on finishing its job, it was moving directly towards not just Kleo but Alice, a vengeful final sendoff for its ultimately futile efforts. Precision was not the name of its game and its huge bulk did not directly slam into Kleo. Yet what was left of its wings and a jutting missile pod slammed into Kleo's sides as it came to a stop dead in the middle of the battlefield, the force easily enough to knock her off of her feet.

Alice would fare somewhat better but secondary detonations across the bulk of the fallen machine sprayed her body with hot shrapnel, the sputtering wreck seemingly hungry to get in whatever hurt it could before it was reduced to useless slag. The metal fragements did not cut deep but the near-cauterizing heat and blast-like spray made it clear they would have to relocate soon.

Meanwhile, the half-guerilla nodded to Salvator and sprayed the entire container's contents into his lower body, covering it in a soapy mess of frothy bubbles before tossing the canister away and picking up the assault rifle. As Salvator momentarily disapepared from sight, a full load of cadenced bursts sounded out and caught the gun platform's attention and that of the squad it was guarding. It was enough that as they focused on the pressing threat furiously emptying a weapon not intended for fully automatic fire, they did not notice the voidhanger threat until it was on top of their very gun platform.

The platform paid little heed to the sudden booted weight on its upper body, not until a knife dug into vulnerable electronics and joints. That's when it paused and the sudden lull in suppressive fire let the half-guerilla retaliate, popping out of cover just long enough to catch distracted civsec rifleman in the chest and face. The others spun to notice what Salvator was doing far too late for the crack of their rifles to do anything. The gun platform bucked and shook, but Salvator has removed himself with a blink, just in time for the ensuing explosion to send a plume of fire and shredded metal outwards.

The entire squad perished in a storm of shattered armor and dismembering fragmentation, leaving three more plus their quadripeds to deal with.

Having extricated him from a close-quarters battle with a berserk automata, Ilshar's machine gun resumed its grisly work and sent an advancing duo of civsec troopers hunkering to the ground. The shielding of the gun platform accompanying them flared to a near opaque level, deflecting bullets off into trees and the surrounding dirt as it expanded into a dome-like shape around its body. The gun-platform held its ground, swivelling its turret to face the source of suppression, one it intended to answer with a considerably larger and higher-output machine gun.

Targeting systems locked onto Ilshar's chest and a full spray of luminiscent bolts spat out in flashes of muted light, shredding the tent behind him and cutting through the smoke beginning to spread onto the battlefield from the massive wreckage of the still-burning gunship.

There was a world of difference between the energy discharged fired by the gun platform and the entire autocannon used by the unztadtlige endoform stomping its way back across the battlefield. The quadriped stopped abruptly, hunkering as a few stray rounds slammed into its shield now flaring with power as it neared its breaking point. That was enough to get the duo of civsec troopers to break from its protection, stray rounds kicking up fountains of dirt as they slammed mere feet from their location.

The remaining two gun platforms immeditely stopped firing at the rest of the squad, pelting the massive armored titan with concentrated gunfire and the rifle rounds of their surviving infantry accompaniment. None of this prevented the final bipedal robot from having its chest and cranium caved in, before flying out of the tent and into a whole squad of infantry and their quadriped support.

At the speed the junked robot fell, the shield did not activate; it simply was not fast enough. Yet the raw mass behind it and the brute strength of the huge unztadtlige turned it into a projectile more than a match for the armour of the quadriped. Legs buckled and armour bent before the hulking turret-machine was knocked clean over, rolling thrice before both robots slammed into a large shipping crage, spewing sparks and smoking black.

Enemy infantry and quadripeds had been halved and they were getting desperate. The remaining two gun platforms began to fall back, eight infantry spreading out as they tried to form a defensive perimeter around the massive artillery platform - its wide base like some enormous four-legged iron mat, huge digging legs entrenched in the soil and the unnaturally smooth, almost living shaped metal-like composite of its hefty barrel glowing with a latent, resting power.

No matter however; a beam of hyper-accelerated particles dropped their number to six, two soldiers sharing the same gaping hole int their chest as one of the surviving gealtirocht troopers advanced. The only of two it apepared, assisted by a mere four human infantry, including the foamed up, freshly bisected one - now grabbing his once missing lower half as its legs began to twitch and he began to reconnect.

"THEIR HOPES LIE CRUSHED AND THEY ALL BUT BEG FOR AN END! LET US PAY ONTO THEM WHAT THEY HAVE PAID UNTO YOUR FOREFATHERS!"

This time, the gealtirocht commander spoke with no voice-distortion and not on private coms. They could hear him, see him perched on top of one of the two destroyed gun-platforms, his rail-cannon slung and a long weapon almost piscine smooth but predatory in its pointed shape, taking pot shots with lances of cold blue particle beams. A desperate security trooper tried to blind fire over the trench they'd built around the bun platform but soil was poor protection for hyper-acclerated particles - his body slumped soon after as they could see and *feel* the morale drop in the surviving troopers.

They were panicking, desperately trying to find more cover and fire off what weak retaliatory fire they could, their taxed gun platforms struggling to adapt to the fact that they were cornered - wild sprays of pulse-beam and chin-mounted gatling fire going wide.

It was a matter of time before they were fully crushed

Closed

I think we should start up a discord. Would be be easier to keep track of updates and discuss the RP there.

Closed

Will there be a discord later? What's the limits of technology in the setting? How "hard" is the scifi here? Is stuff like magic/the force/biotics/warp powers/telepathy/etc. allowed?

An adventure in a sci-fi setting

Possibly interested.

The Envenomed: Military Science Fiction Deniable Operations

The missile that Alice fired was old, probably older than the gunship she was firing it at, and its age was painfully clear. Lock-on systems slowly calculated the distance to the target and the particular design element to track, waiting for the all-clear sign of a pixelated missile to manifest before it would automatically deactivate the safety mechanism. It might have been considered a godsend for infantry in its heyday but even before the floundering gunship, its clunkiness in both physical design and targeting was far from ideal.

The payload however was promising, smoke trailing behind a pointed missile designed to pierce and obliterate a variety of targets airborne and ground-based.

The chin-mounted chaingun swivelled with a pause in firing as it began to spray wildly towards the direction of the missile. With on-board systems handling targeting the struggling pilot was able to notice the missile while battling the jerking, damaged aircraft. The hefty vessel jerked rightwards, staggering drunkenly as the curve the missile's trajectory sliced over the same side its still burning missile pods had been. Residual shielding flared a light rose-red, solidfying patterns of condensed energy almost threatening to shatter like glass from the mere pass of the projectile, signifying thier severely degraded state.

With the Envenomed focused on an airborne threat however, the remaining survivors of the League-run firebase made their move. Their infantry had been depleted - maybe just 11 left but they had one key advantage still.

Four key advantages on closer inspection

Walker Gun Platform

Shuddering from behind the smoke kicked up by the conflict, the units previously disabled by the armored trooper's cranial explosion shuddered back to life with flickers of blue LED's and the slow rising of power signature readings. They were vrexul in origin; their arachnoid appearance hinted that much, but they had been simplified from their original designs. Bioplating was externally absent, shielded in composite flexi-metals that stretched and bent to the shape of the reinforced organosynthetic mass beneath. It had only four legs rather than the six to ten often fielded by this platform, possibly combined into the meaty limbs dragging them into a steady march. A chin-mounted tri-barrel gatling swivelled left and right as if providing additional sight for the frontal eyes, armor tapering off towards their split vertical arrangement.

The main point of focus was the laser turret sitting tyrannically upon them, a cruel and pointed despot watching from a subtle camera between its dark bulk and the denser shoulders connecting to its frontal limbs. It was a darker shade than the faded grey-blue stripe pattern of the rest of the machine; it seemed they were recent arrivals to this world and were finally about to be used. They advanced in a reverse circular formation - the two furthest arms were the furthest up, the two in the middle deliberately lagging behind them, providing cover for the space of toppled trees and hole/corpse-ridden no-man's land between both opposing forces.

One of the remaining ZRF troopers spun out of cover, three bursts slamming not into metal but a field of spherical, rippling energy flaring a resolute blue. He spun back behind the bisected shipping crate Alice was running to but not fast enough. His rifle flew out of his hands as bolts of bright purple punched clean through the armour, splattering his arm into bone fragments and synthetic material. His chest and its armour erupted outwards next, silencing any cries as he fell face first to the ground. The sound of the automata's accusatory shimmer-crackle report echoed amidst the gunfire.

It had come from the right arm of the advance, the ape-spider-platform having gained a partial flanking shot on the guerilla before its chin-mounted weapon whirred and began spitting energy-shrouded bolts, tearing through a partially collapsed tree. Bark split as a stream of rifle-grade rounds flew right at the voidhanger. Even through the carnage she would be able to catch a glance of three infantry advancing behind it, aiming to close in and try to force back the ruthless onslaught to protect their only real chance of survival burning in the sky. Desperately they fired a spray of bullets her way, shredding the bits of fallen tree that remained obscuring their sight.

The bisected shoulder immediately tossed itself into cover next to Savlator and pulled a grenade from part of its armor-vest, smeared with its own fluids and primed it. It landed near the leftmost arm of the gun-platform backed advance and blew apart in a storm of needles, a small blizzard that caused the shielding of the gun-platform to flare an angry pinkish-blue. A few of the soldiers fell back, shrapnel biting through armor and into flesh. One slumped back only for their neck to disconnect and send the head rolling into blast-crater; he had been the closest to the storm of needles, unwillingly having shielded the remaining two, trading shots with the half-soldier. The gun-platform did not fire upon Salvator yet; it appeared its shielding was interfering with its targeting with all the interference just yet, even if it had a fairly clear shot from between a few partially defoliated trees at the voidhanger.

They had not arrived fast enough however to stop his appropriated rail-cannon from preparing to fire. The angular blade-characters of gealtirocht language manfiested on Salvator's screen as targeting reticles and data-feeds blurred into static before roughly solidifying and stabilizing. Multiple lines overlaid on his visual feed indicated the very straightforward travel path from projectile to target as the rising numbers hit 100%.

The weapon rocked, not quite a kick as much as a shove, as a flash of white-pink spiked out of its mouth. The gunship's chin flared white as sparks and flames erupted outwards; the mounted weapon vanished as did a concerning portion of its lower body, turned into a gutted, warped trench. The machine wobbled precariously as its stream of gunfire abruptly came to an end, the space around it distorting from the effect of the energized hyper-accelerated round turning its lower shielding array into a distorted blur of fragmented, rapidly dissolving mist around itself. Only pod-mounted autocannons remained, firing a wild if inaccurate salvo towards Salvator and his half-trooper ally, themselves hastily shoving in a new mag as he pointed furiously at the CivSec troopers and their gun-platform almost blasted by the AP/HE rounds slamming on their location.

A digital notification popped up on Echo's gestalt consciousness-computer-network. Target lock x2, missile launch, anti tank - two streaks swirling as they descended, attempting to slam into the endoform. A smaller target than they were typically used for; the missiles were wobbling somewhat as they adjusted their flight path but no less concerning.

Another lock - x3. A trio that this time flew in more deliberate arching patterns, locked onto the power spike detected from the warform charging its mighty cannon. The trails of smoke rapidly dissolving yet leading back to the smoking, sparking airborne wreck orbiting towards the direction of the now silent artillery cannon as it attempted to gain some distance. It was still closer to the ground than it was when they initially engaged it and given how one of its engines was sparking, it was likely having trouble maintaining consistent altitude. Its aggressive dodging manoevres were taxing it dearly.

A poor move.

Perhaps it was hoping the interference from the battle would interfere with Echo's sighting, or that its missile would be able to knock the cannon off course - it did not see which ones connected, likely at least two, but energy beams flew faster than even cutting edge homing missiles. A lance of light malevolent and judgemental cut across the length of the battlefield, through smoke and spiking readings on all HUD's and biointerface systems, through the belly of the aircraft, its tail-wings and as quickly as it had manifested, it vanished.

A gutted, flaming wreck began to descend, missiles and shell munitions either having detonated or been erased from being as it slammed through a now splintered tree, into the middle of the no-man's land, the force of its final flight dragging it across the ground and towards the staggered Kleo. Corpses were crushed or tossed aside, craters torn up, and for a few moments all infantry and even gun-platforms hunkered down as its sparking body spat fragmentation and sparks all across the battlefield. Kleo had likely heard it, maybe seen the streaking partially disembowelled burning meteor as it slid her way with enough force to knock over a tank, digging a massive trench across the middle of the battlefield as it went.

Such carnage did not distract the gun-automata in the least as it stomped forth and in the confines of the tent, blunt metal meeting back as crates, furniture, spare supplies, and all matter of debris scattered or broke under its relentless attack. There was neither vigour nor hatred in the strike; cold calculation of attack vectors and force of swing were all that mattered. Its camera eyes locked onto Ilshar's momtions as it strode forth, shooting out a hand to grasp his elbow to try and stop his swing. Its other hand released its grip on its own light machine gun, letting it clatter to the ground, connected to it still via its ammo belt leading into its back. It immediately swung its now free hand horizontally in a nasty chop aimed at Ilshar's neck, one that could easily break an unaugmented human one at the least.

Ilshar's fist intercepted its face, causing the head to swivel rightwards and its own fist to swing wildly; maintaining trajectory yet minus any course correction or additional accuracy. It was stunned for a moment but only a momnet. Gears complained as it shead moved back into position, its hand still gripping Ilshar's elbow as it raised that same free hand again aiming to bring it down like a hammer onto the tarrhaidim's skull! Fingers clenched, arm rigid, light machine gun swaying against the ground and bumping against crates and empty magazines - it almost seemed hateful.

The Envenomed: Military Science Fiction Deniable Operations

As numbers dropped across the board, Security and Reclamation forces scrambled wildly into and out of cover. Branches and tent-mesh ignited or tore, spraying fragments and particles into the air. HUD targeting systems were starting to glitch and distort with digital ghost data and false positives; iron sights zeroed in shaky and uneven.

With a distant gunship far beyond the range of small arms raining down anti-personnel fire the advantage lay with the security forces; slowly more and more of them peaked over their crates and fallen trees, potshot snipes turning into full bursts of shredding fire. Intermittently the multi-barreled cyclic terror from above joined in as beams of near invisible bullets vaporized tree bark, reinforced metal, and the stomach area of a human body.

The upper torso slapped to the ground as the voice-suppression settings failed and a garbled patchwork of digitized scratching and inhaling gargling emerged from the half-person. A trail of bulb-like biosynthetic viscera, clearly not native to their body, twitched and squirted onto leaves and ashes as if signaling the the integrated armor backpack to split open across its seems. Contents spilled as four arachnoid limbs black and gleaming fresh dug splitting-tips into thick, blunt-toe-claw digits, draggint its body wounded and twitching across the ground. The rifle in its hand spat half brace against their shoulder, bumping against debris whether from the destruction of material or bodies. Volleys went wide but their ascending, diagonal pattern made them unexpected - a cybernetic human head splattered its contents out, chin to crown split open from a three-round burst revealing the wiring and digital-interfacing systems once concealed by meat and bone before crumpling to the ground.

The soldier's mind, even infused with stimulants and combat drugs, knew even such valiant efforts could not win the battle, not scattered and decimated like this. The voidhanger rummaging through tents and crates was a major target but in a rare blessing, the UCL strategy of saturating the air with fire superiority had a silver lining. As bullets big and small pelted off emplacements, crates, and disabled automata even someone like that could become very hard to spot. Not to the trained sense, distorted by the same chemical injections keeping its user alive, as the bisected scout. The now spider-like soldier crept closer, the trail of blood closing from clotting as internal maintenance parasites worked in overtime threatening to overheat and fall apart if they pushed themselves any further.

It was a surreal scene, the blurred and nonsense garble-speak of the insurgent punching the air with a free hand that threatened to slump over dead and useless. Salvator probably did not notice him, likely busy ducking behind cover as bullets and energy bolts competed with oxygen particles for dominance of the space between both forces. His scans indicated multiple tubular objects, 80% of them positively identified as anti-armor launcher systems but a disappointing 35% as possessing target-tracking capabilities rated for the range they were engaging at. The huge shipping crate diagonally sliced from the ensuing carnage, its top half having slid forth and digging trails into the ground, seemed to be where more than a few were located. A tempting target yet one exposed to the surviving security forces and for whom the tree cover was nonexistent.

The missiles whether detonating by choice or by Echo's active defence procedure had torn open the foliage above and revealed the bright sun above to glare on the piling bodies beneath. And the slanting half-cargo crate, big enough to fit a whole group of power armored UCL troopers, was precariously exposed to the air.

There were other launchers around - to the right of the encampment nearest the cliff and a steep tumble there was some sort of heavy duty mounted missile platform. Sparking and with a few of its launcher tubes half melted by stray energy bolt fire but mmostly operational if they could start up its firing mechanisms. Underneath one of the gun-platform infantry support walkers, laying flat on its belly like a large dead gorilla, some sort of portable system lay hidden, one of the more high tech ones. The only problem was that it was at the front of the cover where the enemy survivors were trying to hold off the onslaught... and there was no telling if that support walker was actually dead.

With their aggressively shortened stature, the bisected soldier waved their free arm towards Salvator, divided by an expanse of ground where one of the dead gealtirocht lay, corpse still smoking from fried systems punctured a thousandfold. A voice emerged from their helmet but the language was unintelligible; perhaps pained groans and alien tongue alike, too indistinct for translation software to un-distort. Yet the shaky hand with a raised index finger and the gealtirocht corpse it pointed at, one with a shoulder mounted rail cannon next to it, made clear its intent.

Those weapons were intended for powered armor... but if these dead gealtirocht were still sparking, perhaps they could be powered or aimed even. They had advanced targeting systems typically meant for ground targets but hyper-accelerated bolts, even if they took a while to charge up, flew far, far faster than missiles.

A plume of dust, the hiss of gas propulsion, and a thin trail of smoke that momentairly shrouded Kleo. Off in the distance, the gunship swung into view as it momentarily broke off. The missile was hot on its trail. Multiple auxiliary weapons spat death through the air, shredding off armor but the missile only twisted and spun as the vehicle grew further and further... before an orange fireball erupted in the air.

It remained an afterimage for a brief moment of relative peace... before smoke and residual flame spread and dispersed like fluid over an immaterial surface. The shape of the gunship, jet-cockpit, slightly bulky green body tinted with the blue of the UCL, short and almost stocky wings bearing multiple integrated launcher pads and under-slung cannons, all distorted in a shimmering dome of shielding. Oil-on-water colours warped across the zone of protection that comprised its shield, flaring across the left side with hundreds of little hexagonal shapes flaring up. An energy shield, one taxed by the blast but now it had learned its lesson.

Bullets were too good for these scum. Smoke hissed out of its "shoulder" missile pods to the sides of its cockpits. Two of the deadly guided projectiles shot out of one of the pods, twisting and streaking as they split - one following the trail of smoke back to the human operator who fired it. The other towards the large and unidentified walker further in the distance - a test shot, HE load meant to ignite the target, make it easier to track and target as well as to test how good the active protection system really was. It had destroyed a bunch of its smaller missiles but this was a larger, faster projectile.

It had not noticed the second anti-air missile being loaded by the other voidhanger.

Nor had it a very familiar weapon that went off just as its HE missiles slammed down - one detonating a mere five feet from the warform, bathing in flames and force, the other where the pilot had guided it to presumably where it last detected Kleo, a similar explosion ensuing at the location. It was not expecting a series of bolts to slam into its frontal shielding, hexagonal energy-field arrangements glowing and thickening as power expended itself to resist power itself.

Heavy duty armor piercing bolts considered the equivalent of crew-mounted heavy machine guns slammed with kinetic force capable of crushing light vehicle armor, digging into the immaterial protection like nails as the bolts spun and drilled, arcs of power flashing from the impact point. The field of energy that jacketed each bullet transmitted itself to the protective barrier; hexagon-segments flaring and solidfiying before shattering as four rounds made it in.

Before safety measures could fully activate, a cluster of missiles erupted and the sectioned shielding across the VTOL-gunjet's front flared and shattered like kaleidscopic glass. It dipped forward as the pilot struggled with the controls, one of its missile pods disabled forming a huge hole in its defences, coupled with the left side's shielding being weakened. It was not out of the fight but they had momentarily knocked it out of commission, if only for a few fleeting moments. Pod and nose mounted guns were likely on AI targeting as the pilot attempted to keep it steady, letting its automated systems to try and target Echo's Endoform.

The nose mounted chaingun fired wildly into the surrounding area, aiming for wide area suppression as two of its four rotary canons zeroed in on the endoform, whirring before a river of armour piercers descended the biped's way. It was halfway the distance it originally engaged from but its high powered heavy automatics were only somewhat less deadly.

As the firefight between ground and sky continued, the tent's flaps were opened and a tantalizing prize laid itself before Ilshar's eyes. A familiar one perhaps; the egg-shaped projectiles attached to a somewhat blocky, canister-like magazine that did not seem entirely congruous with the octagonal launcher with its strict geometric shapes and muzzled barrel. Large but not particularly long, League in origin and the hated foe of many guerillas flying modified spore-colony live-transport organisms, civilian biocraft heavily modified yet for whom the the so called "egg-peg" launcher (its real name a far duller and less amusing series of code-letters and numbers) took so many.

Someone once joked it resembled some malformed, clunky prosthetic limb one might see on a poor refugee camp dweller or those who stayed behind in old mycelial-networked hovel-towns. This was not the exact same as such but the it was hard to deny it was descended from the same bane as many a guerilla knew.

A clack from behind the crates, a stack knocked over, a sputtering form - one of the LMG automata from earlier. Ilshar's presence had triggered a proximity sensor and IFF had determined foe - its weapon swung horizotally, knocking out a hanging neon light with sparking flashes. It was in knife-fighting range and it was programmed to know that; augmented strength swung the barrel of its light machine gun (far from light at all for most) like a club at Ilshar's skull, the force capable of easily braining even a full grown human.

The Envenomed: Military Science Fiction Deniable Operations

A tubular protrusion poked out of the mouth of the tent, shaking from carnage rocking the perimeter of the UCL base, its barrel swinging to face the massive unztadtlige weapons platform as all six of the remaining automata began to spread out, focusing their fire on Echo in an attempt to further divide its attention. Deeper into the base, the meat of the enemy forces were engaged in an increasingly protracted battle between high power pot shots from the insurgents and colourful busts of energy-jacketed rounds from the League-backed security forces. For every handful of gun quadripedal gun-walkers staggered back and set ablaze and sputtering from precision rounds, cries rang out as biotech augmented bodies flared their integrated concussion-shield generators, flaring like glass barriers absorbing then reflecting light. Precision volleys of semi-automatic fire were drowned by vicious bursts of automatic fire, forcing the Intransigent back from cover to cover.

The attack was starting to hit its roadbumps and something needed to break sooner or later. The CivSec forces knew that. However they were not expecting the target-marker on their HUD's signifying where Salvatore was positioned to abruptly vanish. The surviving automata paused for a brief moment, scanners thrown off-centre by the abrupt vanishing of the signatures they were using for targeting. Eyes swept the surroundings but the crafty voidhanger was far from the frontline of their perimeter.

Focused on the biggest threat, the elite soldier's sensors picked up the ethereal incursion too late. The EMP rounds had dampened them enough that by the time he had swung around on shakey and struggling legs still bleeding slightly from the needle-rounds, the shotgun's trigger had already been pulled.

The reputation of vrexul weaponry, even when scaled down for usage by less gargantuan species, made itself known by a monstrous kick. Like a wild beast striking his shoulder the weapon howled and shrieked and growled; the sounds blended as one with the spike-burst flash of its barrel lit up the darkened forest hidden by overhead foliage and smoke from the valley. Two slugs slammed then sliced into his side, a chunk of not just his armour but ribs vanishing in fragment of smouldering, distorting ether-burn as bioslugs ripped him open. Charred meat squirting bluish-purple blood, scraped and degraded bone, and complex wiring were visible as the soldier's voice-coms blared white noise before silencing, staggering back as he stumble-dodged away from the voidhanger.

His rifle's grip was loose, spraying wildly as energy-jacketed rounds flew in a wild retaliatory spray at Salvatore. A few of them missed; six automata became five as one's entire torso erupted outwards in sparks and flames from the desperate burst. The trenches torn under his left arm sparked with electricity, regulatory fluids squirting outwards as whatever biosensation inhibitors and medical drugs did their best to diminish the loss. Soon, the rifle fell as his left arm jerked back and he stumbled stunned, feeling the overhwleming, piercing pain of needle rounds through his arm. This time, he needed to pause to seize his hand for a brief second, struggling to try and take out the large drum-mag weapon magnetically attached to his back

The five gun-automata themselves had paused again as the connection to the trooper was severed. They twitched and stuttered, conflicting command instructions struggling to sort themselves out as the five remaining awkwardly tried to retreat backwards. Wild sprays of gunfire shredded cover but glancing shots on the Envenomed would hardly stop their advance or initative. Even the relatively smaller calibre rounds of Alice could pick them off - bodies and heads jerked then sparked as precise needles tore through reinforced torso and skulls. Wires and vital cores were severed and ran through - five became two, barrels smoking and nearing overheat status as they struggled against the increasingly relentless attack.

Echo's lunge sent its bipedal form bounding out of its body, descending with a quip and a deadly bludgeon onto the unsuspecting soldier. Yet at that moment, the tubular protrusion revealed itself - an anti-tank rocket launcher, dumbfire and locally made, dated and hardly worthy of a contemporary interplanetary military.

The Endoform was well out of danger but at these close ranges, even the mighty warform's body was going to feel the hit. Gas hissed and blew out cans of rations and loose miscellanea out of the back of the tent as a shaped armor-piercing projectile shot forth in a blink of a moment. Before the Endoform landed, the missile slammed into the bulk of the Warform's side, erupting into a small blast as it tried to rip into its dense armor.

Barely a blink later, the hammer fell and with it, the head of the soldier practically burst. Reinforced armor crunched and compressed the bone and meat within before the boundaries of structure could no longer take the strain. Fragmenting metal and shredded padding were overtaken by gushing grey matter and cranial biomass, bone fragments and cartilage, meat and teeth, spraying outwards and leaving a twitching, staggering corpse stumbling back before it fell to the ground. The huge weapon he carried clattered first, falling not far from his carbine, both stained with fluid and viscera.

The initiative of the infantry faltered; pot-shots from concealed positions around the crates and cargo piles paused for a moment as their indomitable leader lay gushing and a few inches shorter on the ground. A cacophony of screams and silenced cries followed; the automata platforms they were controlling had also been rendered stunned as if by the shock of such a graphic end. The command link was severed and they too now struggled to change operational parameters.

The perfect prey for not only rail guns and battle rifles to pick off but something fouler and more arcane.

As the CivSec trooper who fired his launcher hastily broke out of the back of the tent, already weakened from the backblast, he scrambled to get behind cover. He shouted something at his comrades, indistinct if likely Dutch over the din of the battle, trying to ignore the gruesome sight as he peeked from around the tree; swearing that the other three dolts needed to lay down far more suppressing fire so they could try to regroup with the others and form a tighter defensive formation near the artillery canon.

In his attempts to load the missile, he felt the strange burning sensation on his foot a little too late, turning to see the biomesh beneath beginning to froth and bubble. Meat beneath soon felt the unearthly touch as semi-augmented meat laced with light cybenrnetics sent deluges of agony into his body. He stood for a brief second before the joints of his ankles collapsed under his weight, gargling as the rot climbed faster than he could crawl as gloved fingers turned into skeletal claws, leaving a half-dissolved mess of bone and drenched metal.

The reek alone broke another soldier out of his frantic potshots, pointing at the cloud as the three remaining soldiers sprinted wildly towards their allies deeper into the base. Faster still now that the ZRF allies were beginning to box the others in. Their numbers were depleted but the loss of the commanding officer and the ensuing stunning of the gun platforms on their spider-gorilla like bodies with single-turreted heavy prism-shape barrels and smaller auxiliary machine guns mounted atop, rendered them as easy pickings.

Perhaps they were the most mercifully treated. A spray of 10mm rounds slammed into their backs as they spun and staggered, armor cracking as one of them fired off a few desperate rounds at the lone pure human operative. It was not long before he slumped to his knees, then his face, joining the others in a bloodied pile not even halfway to their allies.

"THE SPIRIT OF THE SOLAR TYRANT SWIMS AMONG YOUR NUMBER!" The Gealtirocht leader's voice boomed over the coms as the path was now laid bare to join with his forces. While they had the initiative now, more and more infantry were popping from the woodwork, heavy machine gun fire spitting from behind them. They were cornered now, but given the amount of camo-cloaked bodies laying bisected upon the ground or reduced to charred husks on the ground, it was clear they were not going to give-up the area without a fight.

As the battle raged however, a flashing light trailing smoke broke through the treeline, darting between the bark and bramble, slamming behind a few of the large gealtirocht, swallowing them in flames. Another, a third, smashing through a tree trunk and detonating in the space bewteen the Envenomed and their allies and sending a ZRF recon trooper soaring through the air and into a pile on the ground.

As the smoke of the blast cleared, one of the scielto lay on the ground - armor cracked open and cauterized meat visible, his rail cannon sparking as it powered down next to him. A crescendo-hiss morphed into a rattling cry for revenge as the remaining three, battered and burned advanced, switching to pulse carbines and spraying down the ground forces as their humanoid allies now eight in total fired volley after volley-

Before a sound of mechanical droning buzz announced a beam of tracer rounds shredding foliage and three of their bodies into clouds of mist and sparking bioelectronics. Implant organisms fell to the ground, ruptured out of the shattered effigies of Intransigent humanity, struggling to find organs, veins, and cybernetics to maintain as they slowly bled out bathed in the inner remains of their once physically cohesive hosts.

Based on the high diagonal angle of the missiles and minigun fire, it wasn't ground forces they were facing now. Some sort of aircraft had been called in for League support - the one thing standing between the canon and hostile takeover.

"We are pinned! Find a way to get the gunship off of us, we cannot establish visual contact! There must be heavy weaponry scattered about but we cannnot target it from here!"

The Envenomed: Military Science Fiction Deniable Operations

Battle BGM: Mefisto - Missing in Action

There was no silence to break but the sound of a carbine sliding between the heavy-duty tones of pounding artillery fire and barking orders. In a flash of a moment the crack of the compact weapon stabbed and cut through the disharmony plagueing the year as electromagnetic rounds slammed against the helmet of the towering armor. The first two rounds staggered him as the faint glow of its visor flickered amidst the sounds of whirring motors arguing against crackling electronics. A harsh garbled bark broke out before electronic vocal-filtration cut out and a rough voice boomed out:

"SCATTER, PERIMETER REPOSITIONING, GO!"

Redundant backup systems and hardened internal protective layers took the brunt of the blast but their limits were tested sorely by the well-placed rounds. The soldier sprinted back, footsteps crunching bramble and fallen branches, leaving deep imprints as he vanished behind a spray of wild retaliatory fire from the automata. He was fast but Alice's bullet was faster. Two near-invisible tungsten needles pierced nearly the exact same spot of both knees as the hefty trooper fell.

Not onto his armored face. He stumbled but moved fast enough to place his arms before him, breaking into a roll and half-suprpessing a pained grunt. The damage was agonizing but an augmented physiology combined with pain-suppressants and nano-repair capabilities was already kicking into overdrive, sealing the holes. Yet the effects of the wounds would stay unless properly treated, not only internally but forcing him into one of the cover of one of the larger trees.

At least, he would have tried if a spray of ulvath fire had not glanced his armor, his quick reflexes throwing him away into a roll. The gnarled bark erupted into a spray of shredded cloud as he fell onto his stomach, shoving and crawling across the ground as the CivSec tropers fired a series of bursts at the tarrhaidim's direction, spread out evenly among the large cargo crate like structures and the trees.

They did not stay static for long, taking measured potshots and it was clear they were meant to be personally guard their towering companion. That threat was positioned in the middle of a square formation. Yet while they focused on Ilshar, their robotic allies had broader aims.

Multiple LMG's opened up arrayed in a rapidly forming half-circle formation spraying off into the woods. Branches exploded into woodchips and fragments, leaves shredding into green mist and the airwaves flooded with the sound of crackling fury. It was hardly accurate in spite of the targeting capacities afforded but it did not need to be. With that many rounds they were bound to hit something; they were still trying to identify where the rest of the threats were and if unable, to keep their heads down with a deluge of fire.

Through the shimmer of the invisbility field, blurring as water ripples, multiple bullets pierced and flew then pinged with sparks against a large, formidable target. The dual-invisbility field of both voidhangers obscured the light of the sparks but only for so much. The advanced scanning capabilities of the automata when networked processed in mere blinks what trained soldiers might need a few seconds. It was not long afterwards that the four CivSec soldiers began falling back to hefty crates and reinforced structures in the area, sweeping their rifles as their scanners began to pick up thermal and electrical signatures with advanced vision modes.

Before any further information could be shared, the EMP grenade had already flown over the cacophonous fire. With its visor malfunctioning the power armored trooper had not seen it and its immediate subordinates were too busy taking pot shots at what they could make out from behind the blur of suppression fire. The casing of the grenade burst and with it a wave of semi-translucent purple-blue light washed out, engulfing four of the automata. The ocular lights blinked wildly as trigger fingers released, abruptly stopping most of the barrage and letting the smoke from their barrels hang over them - the entire left-end of their half-circle formation had been deactivated, the machines standing still or slumping to their knees as heads and arms twitched. Emergency reboot systems were in effect but they would take time to render them combat-ready once more.

One of the CivSec troopers, lining up a shot on the weakening invisibilty field abrutly dropped back into cover as the automata spared the EMP blast twisted their lower bodies, torsos facing the Envenomed as their legs walked back. Their fire came in bursts as they tightened their defences. The sound let-up enough that shouts and snapping volleys could be heard in the background; CivSec troopers moving between the trees further into the occupied area - one of them pausing for a moment, standing almost like the spitting image of a proper firing position from a training manual. A blink later and his upper body became a smoking mess, a u-pipe of melted meat and deformed metal bereft of the head, collarbone, and arms scattered around it and the blue afterglow of a rail-cannon's firing vector hanging in the air.

Bullets whistled then shrieked as they flew, slamming into occupation forces' armor, staggering some before punching clean through others. ZRF squad was advancing; slowly, cautiously, but for every volley sent their way a staccato riposte of single-shot bursts forced the scrambling UCL-backed forces into unfavorable positions.

"Let their flesh feed the Earth and our boots crush their bones!" A familiar, alien voice boomed over the coms as another rail-cannon discharge. At this short range, few things could withstand their raw power or the pain of a non-fatal shot. Someone screamed over the coms but it did not sound like one of the insurgents' own; too distant from the microphone-receiver and perfectly coordinated with the report of the banshee-scream cannon.

A far graver threat to the UCL allies remained, one that was amassing power in a hefty barrel. Yet whereas the distance between Echo and the scielto etherealist meant it could not detect the weapon charging up, this comparably shorter range engagement was another story. Mechanical heads buzzed and swiveled, correlating the visual report of bullets pinging off armor to target location as the active automata's sensors picked up distortions and build-up of energy in the air.

It was just in time for the power armor's HUD systems to regain most functionality.

A split second later, a lance of light slammed into where he had been hiding, disintegrating the crates before melting the reinforced exterior of the massive cargo container and hitting something vital within. The trooper sprinted away as a massive explosion rocked the battlefield, knocking over the front-most CivSec troopers and forcing the rear two to break cover, dodging flaming debris as they attempted to make their way to the power armored threat. One slung their rifle abruptly and broke from his squadmate towards one of the camo-netted tents. The other had tapped the power armored trooper, pointing towards the rapidly approaching unztadtlige.

In spite of the visible bluish-purple blood splattered on his knees and the last flickers of electronics self-repair on his helmet, the tallest of the enemy combatants immediately snapped to action. His surbordinate spread off to the right, obscuring himself from the sight of the whole squad as he dove behind one of the nearby tents. Echo's massive multi-legged bulk surged but nothing about the formidable supersoldier suggested the possibility of flinching. Falling into a crouched position, his carbine swing upwards and he flicked an switch. Already the platform's autocannons had torn and warped the torsos of two of the active automata, leaving them as burning wrecks.

While it left two immediately active, the other four were already beginning to reawaken for a total of six machine hostiles, metal limbs creaking as they began to run, their actions taking a new speed and aggression. A scan from those capable of it demonstrated that the power armored soldier was directly controlling them through some sort of neurocybernetic link yet he was clearly focusing on the biggest, most immediate, cyborg-coral threat. In the time it took for Echo to get into position, three rapid bursts of heavy duty AP -shells, the sort normally used for killing vrexul-level threats were spat out.

Encased in shells of low-light energy, they did not have quite the same violent impact as vrexul autocannon-rifle rounds. Yet they were easily the equivalent of anti-material rifle bullets, larger and retaining even more impact force. Upon collision with a target, the energy field and the internal battery that provided it would discharge forwards for additional explosive power, capable of deforming metal and dismembering meat beneath.

The first was aimed at the "head" of Echo, aiming to at least diminish or damage its vision with rounds that at these closer ranges could scar the armor of such alien threats. The second went a bit wild, hitting a few of the leg-joints on the platform's right side. Flashes of metal on metal and energy discharge marked successful hits but its third burst was cut short as a combination of on-board sensors and those of the linked automata alerted it to the fearsome weapon, firing another beam. It leapt out of the way into a roll but staggered as it recovered from it; the needle rounds that had gone through its legs had hampered its mobility, even if the enormous human was still far more manoeverable than his bulk suggested.

A smoking crater where he had been standing caused a nearby tree to tip over, nearly falling onto the League soldier before he quickly back-hopped, letting it slam down in front of him before staggering to steady himself. His weapon raised and he fired another burst of heavy duty rounds, this time fully automatic and aimed at Echo's "head" again.

"There are more reinforcements, I can see automata platforms activating deerp into the camp! There's signs of smaller gun-platforms activating! Force their commander back, we cannot hold them off for long!"

The careful, precise, almost deliberately spaced out single shot bursts and monstrous rail-cannon shrieks grew far more erratic and inconsistent. Sounds of multiple missile launch systems and rapid fire machine guns were beginning to fill the air. The ZRF forces were still forcing the rest of the artillery site's defenders to focus on them rather than their newfound allies but for how long was another issue.