GMT: 14:41:26
EST: 10:41:26
Ragnar: +01:41:26
"General."
At first, the word seemed alien to Hutch, as if spoken from far away, and in some foreign tongue.
"General!"
Hutch groaned and winced. The more his faculties began to return, the more he wished they had remained dulled, "Five more minutes?"
In response, a blast of warm breath washed over his face. It reeked strongly of something resembling melted silicon.
The General opened his eyes tentatively and coughed, before slowly voicing his surprise.
"Taranis? I thought you took leave..."
The cobalt Dragon chuckled grimly.
"As did everyone. That was the idea, in any case."
Hutch raised an eyebrow, winced, and hissed softly as he tried unsuccessfully to sit up.
"What happened?"
Taranis reached across the room to a bulkhead emergency kit, and ripped the medical supplies forcefully from the cabinet.
As he began to fiddle carefully with the packaging, he let out a small growl.
"I had suspicions. They were confirmed. I acted appropriately."
There was a pause, and Hutch picked out the distinctive sound of medication being loaded into a hypodermic injector.
Taranis continued speaking quietly as he pressed the aerosolizer into the side of the General's neck. The medical instrument released its life-giving payload with a hiss, and a short sharp stabbing pain.
"There is... Considerable damage to the structure. And the courtyard will be unusable for some time. I may have also inadvertently damaged the surrounding electrical infrastructure."
Hutch sighed in relief, as the immensely powerful pain killers began to force his sensory functions back into blissful ignorance.
"What the hell were you doing out there? I take it Klarien is...?"
Taranis nodded sharply.
"Klarien is a permanent non-issue. We had an... Electrifying 'anger management therapy' session. It did not work out in his favor. Your clean-up crew will require a crane, a large truck, plasma cutters, and gas masks."
Hutch forced a small smile, as the Dragon began to tentatively apply scabbie foam to his gaping wounds.
"If I didn't know you better, I'd say you actually have a sense of humor under there."
Taranis raised one eyebrow scale.
"Keep your hypothesis on the subject between us. I have a reputation to defend."
Hutch nodded weakly. He paused to inhale as deeply as he dared, then gestured over his shoulder towards the central war room.
"They did something to the battle net..." He paused to cough, a deep and disturbing hacking noise, before continuing, "I'll bet you anything it has something to do with that drive we plugged in that you, and Klarien, recovered."
Taranis' eyes narrowed sharply.
"He was indeed alone with the device for some time. I would not be surprised if we also discovered that he erased any other traces of useful data from the facility."
Hutch grunted, and winced, staring to his left at the immense gash in the wall, then right to the fizzling and sparking main PAL screen.
"The whole thing was a trick. And we've got less than four minutes to pull some kinda rabbit out of a hat, or millions of people are going to die."
Taranis grunted, and shook his head slowly.
"Do you think there is any chance we could reboot the battle network successfully?"
Hutch chuckled, though the sound devolved swiftly into a coughing fit.
"Well... I'm not too good with overly technical problems... But I think a couple old sots like us can still learn new tricks."
Taranis grinned wryly, "My thoughts exactly."
GMT: 14:41:32
PDT: 07:41:32
Ragnar: +01:41:32
"LEFT SIDE!"
Neyla's warning came too late.
Fyrenn tried to spin the turret to acquire the APC, but the vehicle snuck in under the maximum limits of the tank's gun depression before he could get an angle.
The APC ground against the side of the tank, producing a hail of sparks, and a loud cacophony of bangs and creaks as Neyla forced it into the path of as many obstacles as possible.
Abandoned cars, street lamps, trash bins, barricades, fire hydrants, and miscellaneous debris flew up and out as the APC barreled along. The driver seemed absolutely intent on maintaining close distance, and Fyrenn didn't blame him.
At point-blank, against the weaker side armor, the tank's larger rounds would virtually atomize the smaller vehicle.
Fyrenn readied himself for another impromptu assault, but found himself swiftly changing to a defensive strategy.
Seemingly from nowhere, a silver-visored helmet appeared over the side of the tank. Before the red Gryphon could move to knock the offending assailant off, he vaulted into a tight flip, landing perfectly on the front of the turret and opening up on Fyrenn with a spray of rounds.
The Augment was fast, but Fyrenn was equally alacritous. He vaulted forward, ducking under the stream of rounds, and coming up within striking distance of the soldier, sword drawn.
Neyla shouted over her shoulder, doing her best to keep her eyes on the road ahead.
"WHAT'S TAKING SO LONG?!"
Fyrenn growled, and parried a vicious series of thrusts from the Augment's baronet, ducking and weaving, and flaring his wings for added effect.
"I'M A LITTLE PREOCCUPIED HERE!! SOLVE YOUR *OWN* PROBLEMS!"
The Gryphoness paused, then slammed abruptly on both brake pedals. The tank's treads went into emergency steering-lock instantly, and the rubber-coated alloy links dug furrows into the duracrete as the vehicle began a titanic battle between inertia and friction.
Fyrenn had to ram his sword into the top of the turret and use it for a claw-hold to avoid being thrown clear. The Augment simply dropped to all-fours, and latched onto the metal skin of the tank with blades in his wrists and ankles.
The APC driver, hobbled by his lesser reaction times, allowed his vehicle to zip forward, still at full throttle. Within two seconds, there was an entire tank's length between the two armored vehicles.
Neyla released the brakes, cycled the safety catch on the steering-lock, and rammed down both accelerators in one smooth motion.
The tank still had a great deal of inertia, and the treads caught against the ground virtually instantaneously, causing the vehicle to lurch forward at an astonishing rate of acceleration for something so thickly armored.
The APC driver barely had time to begin a fruitless attempt at a turn, before the tank slammed into the side of his craft.
For several seconds, the tank pushed the APC along like a maglev pushing a stranded car along the tracks.
Then the forward treads found purchase on the edges of the APC's wheels.
In one unbelievably swift, gruesome moment, the APC was sucked under the tank, and crushed like a pancake. The personnel carrier weighed no more than eighty tons, whereas the tank was closer to one hundred and seventy, and the former craft was further weakened by its larger hollow internal crew compartment.
There was absolutely no contest. Merely the squeal of distressed metal, and the roar of Neyla down-shifting the tank's engine to compensate for the obstacle.
The APC's fuel tank ruptured and caught fire, leaving shreds of burning material on the tank's treads for several moments, before the friction of their passage dislodged them once and for all.
Fyrenn paid for the victory with his tactical advantage.
The Augment took creative advantage of his position, and the tank's mild secondary deceleration, to launch himself at the red Gryphon.
Fyrenn had to release his sword entirely, and found himself locked claw-to-blade-to-paw-to-hand with his enemy a fraction of a second later.
What the cybernetic soldier lost in his fractionally inferior speed, he made up for in slightly greater strength.
Fyrenn swiftly found himself completely pinned to the top of the turret, unable to use his wings for fear of suffering a serious break, or gash.
He gained a measure of breathing room by swiftly releasing his own hidden blades, scoring a direct hit on the Augment's face plate and knocking him back several inches in the process. The redistribution of weight allowed Fyrenn to work himself into a better defensive position.
But he knew it would not last.
For several moments, a titanic struggle of wills and wits ensued. The Augment tried furiously to get at the open portion of Fyrenn's armor along the front uppermost part of his neck. Fyrenn did his best to simply survive.
At first, the HLF soldier tried a series of swift, agile, complicated strikes. Fyrenn blocked each with a speed and aptitude born partially of skill, but mostly of adrenaline fueled desperation.
The Augment quickly realized that the slight lag in his senses, as compared to the Gryphon's, made it impossible for him to win through the elegance of a single well timed stroke.
He instead shifted to a duel of pure strength, much to Fyrenn's horror. Not only did the man's nanofiber muscle augmentations give him a slight edge in raw strength, but his position on the higher ground allowed gravity to be his ally, further extending his edge.
Fyrenn grunted, and threw every ounce of his muscle, and will power, into holding back the enemy's blade. The monomolecular edge hovered menacingly mere inches away from the Gryphic equivalent of a carotid artery.
Fyrenn hissed, and decided to expend his breath on something potentially worthwhile.
"NEYLA!"
She glanced over her shoulder, and winced.
"What do you want ME to do about it?! Solve your own problems!"
Fyrenn growled out and out, and glared directly into the Augment's eyes.
"Remember what you said would happen if I criticized your driving again?! Well you drive LIKE MY GRANDMOTHER!"
For a full second and a half, the Gryphoness stared back over her shoulder in confusion. Her attention diverted from the road, the tank weaved slightly and struck a parked delivery truck.
The side of the vehicle peeled away like a candy wrapper.
At last, however, Neyla realized what Fyrenn wanted.
She pushed the accelerators in as far as they would go, only letting up on the left side to allow for a wide turn. In spite of the stunning girth of the maneuver, the tank skidded for several meters, and nearly tipped up on one side.
Thankfully, the architectural feature the Gryphoness was looking for presented itself swiftly.
She held down both pedals, and shouted over her shoulder to ensure Fyrenn was prepared.
"FIVE SECONDS! MARK!"
Fyrenn counted off the agonizing increments, each second seeming to elongate into a half hour as he allowed time to fall away, and focused his entire being into his forelegs.
At long last, however, the literal shadow of reprieve fell across his head. He grinned.
"Mind the gap."
The Augment had a deliciously ironic half-second to contemplate the phrase, before he abruptly vanished from Fyrenn's sight with a loud 'CLANG.' The tip of his right boot brushed against the Gryphon's beak, as he ducked to avoid being swept away, or speared by an ankle blade.
Fyrenn glanced back and chuckled. A pair of armored legs was visible hanging from the underside of the bridge which had saved his life. He watched as the Augment dropped to the roadway, and promptly fell onto his side.
The blow had completely destroyed his ability to use his legs.
Fyrenn paused to inhale deeply, then crawled forward to extract his sword from the top of the turret.
He reached into the crew hatch, and thumbed the rotation mechanism. The Augment glared up at him as the distance between the tank, and the bridge widened. Both the Gryphon, and the Cyborg, knew what was going to happen next.
When he was sufficiently sure the barrel was properly sighted, Fyrenn waggled one claw in a 'goodbye' wave, and pulled the trigger.
The Augment, the bridge, and most of the roadway underneath exploded in spectacular form. Pieces of truss and girder rained down for several blocks, likely interspersed with atomized Augment.
Fyrenn leaned over the edge of the turret, and smiled down at Neyla.
"For the record; My Grandmother was the best... Well... Second best driver I've ever seen."
Neyla rolled her eyes and sighed.
"Weren't you just saying something about how we should solve our own problems?"
Fyrenn grinned sheepishly as the breeze toyed with his ears, and blew tufts of fur and feathers into a wild, wind-swept configuration.
"I stand corrected."
Neyla's eyes narrowed, "There. Was that so hard to say?"
Further opportunity for banter was precluded by a series of tones in both Gryphons' headsets. As the series of coded bleeps came to an end, Fyrenn noted with relief that Kephic and Varan had rejoined the group.
He raised an eyebrow, "Where the heck were you guys?"
Kephic snorted, "I don't suppose you noticed that you're no longer under threat of covering fire from sniper positions?"
Varan nodded once sharply, and banked into a flanking position three stories above the road, and five yards behind the tank.
"You are welcome."
Fyrenn chuckled, pausing to hold a talon to one ear as a familiar voice filtered through the radio.
"This is General Miles Lantry. I'm sounding an all-call, with priority transmission space allocated to mainstay fire-teams. Anyone who's not dead, sound off."
The red Gryphon tapped the reply key on the side of his helmet.
"It's good to hear your voice General. I take it we have some lines of communication open again?"
Lantry's voice carried a hint of a smile.
"Your friend General Hutchinson had something to do with that, or so I hear. Hamilton is secure, and partial battle net functionality is back up. Enough to raise everyone we need at least. What's your ETA to rally point?"
Fyrenn glanced down at Neyla, and the Gryphoness obliged by tapping the side of her own helmet, and joining the conversation.
"Three minutes, with a margin for error of thirty seconds."
Lantry's wince was audible.
"Cutting it close aren't we?"
Fyrenn sighed as he managed to re-seat himself at last in the gunner's nest.
"We had uninvited guests. We had to take a detour, dance a little dance, treat them to dinner, and break the bad news to them gently. You know how these things go."
Lantry grunted, "Well, at any rate, your insane scheme just might pull us all out of the fire this time. I'm going to send Skye the appropriate data you'll need to point her Highness towards the device, then I'll be busy coordinating everyone else."
There was a pause, before Lantry delivered one final missive.
"Whatever you do, don't be late. Or we'll all burn for sure."
Late Afternoon
Ragnar: +01:41:32
The first disturbance was so fleeting, that Luna very nearly missed it entirely. Had she not been probing the aether earnestly, it would have surely gone unnoticed.
At first, the Alicorn couldn't quite comprehend what the ebb and flow of the Thaumatic current was trying to tell her. The immense displacement seemed to be producing ripples on an impossibly massive scale.
She lifted her head, and looked out across her study, through the open window, resting her thoughtful gaze upon the sparkling vista of Canterlot.
Of one thing Luna was sure; The cataclysmic attack that she had been warned of was nigh. The scale of the event had, it seemed, not been exaggerated in the slightest.
The lunar monarch stood, and strode purposefully around her desk, out onto the balcony. Her office overlooked the castle courtyard, and the majority of the upper quarter below and beyond.
A few guards glanced up and noted her arrival, but otherwise life in the castle, and the city as a whole, seemed to continue undisturbed.
What the Princess did next attracted far more attention.
With her sister off-world, Luna had been given charge of both celestial bodies. The duty was tiring, but not an overly-difficult stretch.
Luna knew that, come what might, the pending disaster would require of her more power than any task in recent memory. She allowed her horn to light with a powerful flash. Slowly at first, then more swiftly as the seconds passed, the sun began to dip towards the horizon at a preternatural speed.
Noon turned to evening in the space of a few breaths, and evening to night half as swiftly again. The colors of dusk bled through to a pinwheel of stars with such alacrity, that cries of distress and surprise issued forth from all corners of the city.
Luna realized, as the moon pierced the horizon's veil and sailed heavenward, that almost every eye in Canterlot was fixed on her balcony.
As she finished placing the moon at its highest, and brightest point, she relaxed the flow of magic and allowed power to flow into her rather than out.
As Luna began to stockpile her will, and energy, for what was to come, she turned and spoke to the nearest guard. The normally aloof Stallion was staring up with an unashamed gape, all decorum having fallen by the wayside.
It was the first time Luna had ever seen one of her sister's finest break their trademark pose while on duty.
"Soldier! Thou must warn all our subjects immediately! Everypony is to go indoors and seek shelter until the sun returns."
Luna realized with a start that in her concern, she had slipped back into old high speech.
The guard stood gaping for another moment, and Luna raised a hoof, adding a small measure of steel to her tone.
"GO!"
The Stallion's legs fumbled back and forth underneath him for another moment before he finally gained traction, and took off at a breakneck pace.
Alarm bells began to sound moments later, and Luna winced as the sounds of fear and chaos spread throughout the city. The cry of distressed mothers. Confused children. Terrified crowds.
She did her best to shut out all other concerns. All sounds. All thoughts.
Luna folded her legs beneath her, and took up a meditative pose; Eyes shut, head downcast.
The time for further action would come soon enough.
GMT: 14:41:32
PDT: 07:41:32
Ragnar: +01:41:32
The first guard had enough time to turn and face the headlamps of the oncoming vehicle, before he was flattened.
Yelling at the top of his lungs, fit to curdle anyone's blood, Lieutenant McBride pressed the throttle to the stops, and skidded into the clearing accompanied by the truncated scream of his first victim, and the roar of the APC's engine at maximum revs.
He slammed on the brakes abruptly, spun the wheel to the side, and pushed out of his seat as the vehicle did a sideways drift under its inertia. By the time the APC came to a stop, the Lieutenant had repositioned to the gunner's nest.
He released the safety, and promptly turned the vehicle's primary weapon on the next nearest soldier.
The weapon had eight barrels each on two counter-rotating cylinders, and fed itself via an enormously long belt that coiled down and around the accessway, and into a three foot high ammunition box bolted to the floor.
Despite his relatively heavy armor, the first HLF soldier was pulped almost instantly.
The second dove for cover, finally having managed to comprehend what had just befallen his two squadmates. The action made little difference.
McBride watched in grim fascination as the man's throat vanished in a fine mist. The report from Shierel's well placed shot echoed across the clearing a moment later. He pushed the hatch on the turret open just in time to see the Gryphoness land on the front of the vehicle.
"Nice shot."
She glowered.
"Not really. I was aiming for his head."
McBride chuckled grimly, not quite sure whether to take the statement as pure honest evaluation, or gallows humor.
He winced as the sound of a new assault volley taxed his eardrums. Smoke poured forth from the side of the brick structure below.
The pair were perched in a clearing just above the construction site. Ideal ambush terrain.
The Lieutenant rubbed his brow nervously.
"Well. It looks like we have the drop on them..."
Shierel nodded quietly. McBride turned to her and raised an eyebrow, "So... The Plan?"
The Gryphoness shrugged.
"I simply intended to enter, kill everything moving, and leave."
The Lieutenant let out a short, sharp, barking laugh, again betraying his concern.
"If I may? I've got a better idea."
Shierel smiled slightly, "Oh?"
McBride nodded, "Yeah..." He paused as the concept became fully formed in his mind.
"A *much* better idea."
At first, the gunner was sure an explosive round had hit the building. Brick and mortar flew inwards in a torrent, slamming against the outer skin of the L-RAC and leaving fist-sized dents in the relatively thin armor.
The man jumped reflexively as a spiderweb of pixelated cracks appeared in the holographic viewport, realizing momentarily that he was seeing the result of a damaged external sensor.
He gestured to his co-pilot harshly, scowling as he realized their position had been discovered.
"Get on the AP gun!"
The soldier nodded, and twisted his chair around to access the external anti-personnel weapon controls.
He stared out the periscope as the weapon spun up, trying desperately to comprehend what he was seeing.
It was only after the furious visage of a female Gryphon graced his sights, and the screen died with an abrupt fizzle, that he realized what he had been looking at.
The rear of the APC had hit the building with such force that it had breached two layers of brick wall, and a structural beam. The vehicle had doubtless been going backwards, and downhill, under full acceleration.
The Gryphoness had been inside the vehicle. The soldier realized, as her paws and claws rapped against the metal of the entry hatch, that she had probably been on top of them before he even had the faculties to react.
He drew his pistol, and aimed it squarely at the entry hatch. The space was highly constricted. The man reasoned that there was no possible way the monster could get in without presenting him a target.
The hatch flew open, practically ripped off its hinges by the force of its extraction. The soldier tensed.
It was only after the grenade rolled to a stop, almost at his very feet, that he realized he had erred in his tactical reasoning. Grievously.
The thought was his last, as the interior of the vehicle went up in flames and smoke and light and sound. From within the cockpit of the APC, Lieutenant McBride grinned as he heard the detonation. He tapped his headset, still smiling as he spoke.
"All done?"
Shierel's voice maintained a firm, even tone.
"No. I can hear at least two more."
As soon as the sentence left her beak, McBride saw the tan-clad forms enter the clearing through his windscreen. Agonizingly, he had time to process the fact that one of the soldiers was holding a fully loaded rocket launcher. He simply had no time to get to the rear of the APC.
McBride was only finished releasing the first of his five harness points when the rocket struck.
The APC had been designed to withstand a great deal, but the majority of its protective armor was dedicated to defending the crew from ambushes to the sides and rear. The design relied on forward escort tanks to keep it safe.
The Lieutenant had time for one last thought as darkness came for him; He wished he'd had a chance to thank Shierel.
As he collapsed to the floor of the mangled cabin, blissfully comatose, he had no way to know the extent of his injuries. No way to know that the vehicle had flipped nearly on its end, so great was the damage. No way to know that he was beyond lucky to be alive.
No way to know that he would not be for much longer, if he did not receive medical support.
There were no wakeful, living witnesses to what Shierel did to the remaining soldiers. She preferred it that way.
Gryphons had a special talent for causing unspeakable torment to enemies who pushed them too far. Shierel had been pushed far, far beyond the limits of her emotions.
The conflict would have been elegant, swift even, were it not for the fact that the Gryphoness was so enraged, that she had reached a state of near-perfect clarity. To see innocents die had been one thing. To see the orphaned Colt had been the start of the true rampage.
But to see Lieutenant McBride bleeding, dying on the floor of his own transport; That had been the worst mistake the HLF had made. Disarming the men was the easy part. Toying with them came almost naturally.
In a way, she found herself feeding emotionally off their torment as she parried, dodged, and counter-attacked slowly.
Offered them vain hopes, then snatched them away, taking them apart literally limb by limb with each riposte. In every way she knew they feared.
When her rage was finally spent, she at last dealt the two writhing, screaming husks, now unrecognizable as Human beings, the only mercy she could.
She gave them two RAC rounds. One apiece.
And at last, on the hill, as the echoes of the second shot faded away, there was silence.