When the Hussars Arrive 1/3 · 10:44pm Apr 24th, 2018

Old Pantera
Some sabaton

Gunfire is deafening over time in the best of conditions, and these were not the best of conditions.

Mercy's long rifle roared again above them on the roof. Again and again, and Soren didn't have to see her targets to know she had struck true. He could almost hear her whispered apologetic prayers.

Around him, the Duke's soldiers scrambled to repair the barricades before another wave of Godspeakers could rush through the narrow entrances. They had stripped the old apartments for everything of use: broken beds, rusted metal railings, anything that could be thrown up against the makeshift wall. A young woman in the Ducal blue pushed past him carrying a table with only two legs, her rifle slung over her back, and he watched her with blank eyes.

The Mallfolk were busy as well. He could see Belarin awkwardly perched on the ragged pile even as they rebuilt it around him. He worked his rifle's bolt, cursing all the while, and Soren watched with almost a disinterested curiosity as the weapon jammed. Belarin tried to pull back from the chair he had been braced against, but his foot caught and he was standing with no cover as he twisted his ankle back and forth.

He freed himself soon enough , but lost his balance completely. He fell on his back hugging his rifle to his body as a volley of answering fire tore through the gap. The Ducal woman who had rushed past Soren folded like a doll and the table she'd been about to plug the hole with clattered against the concrete and the remaining legs broke off at last.

Someone caught his wrist and turned him around.

Lyra scowled at him. "They're breaking through the old leasing office," she said as she pulled him along. "I need you."

He tried to nod and walk at the same time, but it was difficult. Lyra stopped pulling him along after a few steps, but he followed regardless. The fog was slowly clearing. He could feel his hands again, and the gun in the lockvice of his fist felt heavy. He pulled the cylinder aside and checked before slapping it back into place. Six shots, all ready.

They charged through the back door and muscled past a frantic Ducal soldier carrying an ammo box.

"Just Godspeakers?" Soren asked. His voice cracked.

"For now. Fuckin' maniacs." Lyra led him into a reception room. The dilapidated couches had been upended in front of the shattered door and the desk had been repurposed for cover. Two more Ducal troops who waved them over, and their fellow Chosen, Iulus, was handing a third extra boards from some destroyed fixture to slap back over the windows. Lyra and Soren crouched together behind the desk.

Lyra checked her machine pistol and nodded to herself. "Tell Iules that its pointless for me."

Soren went down on one knee and looked over the desk. Iulus caught his eyes and he nodded with obvious frustration as she dumped the rest of the boards and grabbed the shaking trooper trying to fill the hole.

Five of them huddled behind the desk now, quickly checking weapons and occasionally looking back over the desk.

"How long?" Soren asked.

"Fuck if I know!" Lyra spat.

"The ones who broke the doors are dead," Iulus said steadily. "I saw more coming down the street. They're firing into the windows upstairs from an old complex."

"Windows here aren't safe, then," Soren guessed.

"Decidedly not. We lost one earlier."

"So what, just wait for them?" interrupted one of the troopers. He gripped the standard issue bolt action in his hands so tightly they had turned white.

Iulus nodded. "We haven't been firing out from here since they killed that trooper, uh, Carlus. For all they know..."

"I kennit. Come over the top guns high?" Soren said.

"Aye," Iulus said with a wide grin.

"Oh hell yes," Lyra joined them. She slipped one hand down into her thighpack and pulled out two odd little apparati. Soren knew what was coming, and now he too grinned. He caught her gun when she gave it to him and watched as she slipped the Cult-blade claws on each hand.

Lyra flexed her hands, moving the blades on each finger one by one with a sensuous air.

"It's going to be a good day," she breathed, her eyes wide and her face flushed. "It's going to be such a good, good fucking day."

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