Doorknocker
“Sure is dark in here,” Mendoza said, stepping over a cluster of emptied mugs stacked in a box as they passed by an unoccupied den, fireplace still burning as the seats were scattered around the room in various half-circles. The silence that permeated the inner halls reinforced their assumptions that all hands had been called to arms... and their sensors registered nothing in the quarters.
“It’s a castle. They aren’t really known for having fluorescent lights,” Pastor said, giving a passing glance into the interior of a kitchen as they continued on. “So... where are we heading?”
“For starters, up,” Talbot said. “We need to find some stairs up. Given that these are quarters, there’s probably a set of them at the end of the hall.”
They continued down the hall, guns trained at the burning torch at the end until they reached the bottom of the staircase, winding upwards in a clockwise fashion into the primary facilities of the castle hall. Sensors still active, the lack of signatures persisted; fortunate since it seemed that most defenders were called out to the walls or into the city, and less guards meant less chance of detection.
But detection was more of a secondary concern for this mission. They were inside now, following the raised alerts, and the griffons would not be expecting them. The concern that Castshot might still be willing to use the guns to fire upon the city was still there, and the possible result was still a tenuous coinflip.
The Ghosts ascended the stairs, ears sharp for the sound of any noise that may come from above or below, passing sconce after sconce on their way up until an increase in the rush of air notified them that their exit was near. The sound of conversation greeted them once they reached the top.
“...he surely cannot be serious!”
“He is!” Raymond, on point, leaned his head out the doorway to find two robed servants standing in an empty lobby, ornate armorset statues and griffon sculptures surrounding the red-carpeted area. “He’s been on edge recently. Everyone knows about it, but no one has wanted to point it out.”
“On edge? Does this have something to do with what happened to Highcloud?”
“Of course! They say he was found dead. Dead! Assassinated in his own office within the highest reaches of Stratus Airbase! How such a thing could happen is beyond me... the general had his guard on duty, and on patrol in the entire inner sanctum!” one of them said, looking around nervously from behind his ragged cloth hood. “Now they say that whoever went after Highcloud is coming for them next.”
“It’s the loyalists! Why else would they attack the city right now? Did they ever find out who killed Highcloud? Wh-what if it’s one of our own? One of the guards here?!”
“Shh! We’re just lucky that the general has called all of his griffons to guard his own war room! He’s taking no chances! He’s counting on the fact that keeping so many griffons around will decrease the chance of a double agent trying to make a move on his own. Let him worry about his own business and we’ll go about ours.”
“T-then... what about us? What should we do?”
“Easy! We go back to our quarters, hide, and wait until all of this blows over. Come on, I have some drink stored away just for occasions like this one.”
“Moving into the hall now,” Raymond notified, deftly slipping his way out of the doorway and disappearing behind one of the sculptures as the griffons began to walk towards the doorway he’d been sitting at. They were far from the door, however, and paid no attention to anything beyond their current conversation.
Mendoza followed, then Pastor, and finally Talbot as the griffons’ dawdling pace allowed them time to slink away into the shadows as the oblivious pair of griffons continued on uninterrupted. The hall was symmetric, with a pair of rising stone stairs leading up to the upper floors of the hall and the rooms beyond.
“No guards around, huh?” Mendoza said, whistling to himself. “Talk about being paranoid.”
“So they think it’s one of their own. Makes it easier for us,” Raymond said.
“Yeah, but that means that he’s surrounded by his goons,” Pastor noted. “This could make things a bit complicated.”
“Well, we can just un-complicate it with a little bit of boom, if you get my drift,” Mendoza said. “They want to hole up in a room, swords pointed at the door? Allow us to retort with a special game of our own. Besides, these breaching charges have to be used for something, right?”
“They aren’t meant to kill, Fuse,” Pastor said.
“I know that. So maybe we can mix in a few frags to spice things up?”
“That remains to be seen,” Talbot said. “Remember that we’re here to kill just him. All other possible targets are secondary unless they jeopardize our mission. Whether or not they fall into that category is something we have to find out first.”
“All turtling up in a room like that, they’re just asking for it...” Mendoza muttered.
An explosion from outside rocked the foundation of the fortress. No doubt that must have been the loyalists on the eastern gate accomplishing their task.
“Looks like they’re ahead of schedule,” Talbot said. “Raymond, take point. Up the stairs and sweep through each room. Go.”
“Clear,” Raymond said, keeping overwatch as they advanced down another hall.
Unlike Stratus Highbase, which had a clear direction of ascent leading to the officers’ quarters, Kruvem’s inner fortress was completely labyrinthine. Their route had taken them up and down various stairs and down more hallways than Talbot would have cared to remembered. It made him wonder whether or not the confusion was part of the fortress’s defense strategies.
Eventually, though, they opted to stop sweeping rooms altogether, simply sticking with opening the door and poking their head inside to see if there wasn’t anything strange inside. The reasoning behind the action was that they’d assumed that the sensors might have gone bust and couldn’t scan through the stone walls.
They hadn’t found any evidence to prove or disprove that theory, though, but they couldn’t be too sure. Lack of any guards whatsoever put them on edge.
“...another empty room. Is it just me, or do they all seem to look the same? Bedrooms or studies or dens or some other thing. How many rooms does this place need?” Mendoza said.
“Lots of officers, lots of soldiers, lots of rooms,” Pastor said. “How long have we been at this now?”
“Judging by my local clock, I’d say about half an hour now. I hope the offensive outside is going well,” Talbot said, closing a door behind him as camouflage re-materialized following him releasing his grip on the knob. “Report for this floor?”
“All empty, no one here. Not even servants or anything,” Mendoza said, shrugging. “Were those two guys at the entrance really the only ones in here? I kind of find that hard to believe with a castle as big as this one.”
A crack of thunder paired with a shrieking voice greeted them as they instinctively hugged the walls, as a servant tumbled unceremoniously down from the stairs at the end of the hall. He was drenched, and the clapping of armor indicated that his pursuers had managed to catch up to the unfortunate servant as he attempted to get to his claws.
“Are you all insane?! Leave me alone, I have nothing to do with this!” he shouted, fending off the pair of soldiers approaching him with a feeble wave of his claw.
“I’m sorry, sir, but orders are orders. General Castshot wants all of the servants to be brought to the war room,” one of them responded, wearing the crested helm of an officer. “Please don’t make this harder for either of us.”
“Absolutely not! Can’t you see that the general’s gone absolutely mad? There’s no way he’s going to let any of us live at this rate! Just let me go! Please! I have a family to think of!”
“He’s still the general.” The officer nodded to his subordinate and they forcefully grabbed the servant by the arms. “And like I said, orders are orders. I don’t feel any better about this, but remember that you can be executed for disobeying an order directly from a general himself.”
“Don’t you get it? He’s going to kill us all! If I manage to escape, I can at least spend the last moments with my family before I’m dragged off to be beheaded!” the servant spat out, flailing in their grip. “I’ve no ties to the loyalists, but this is just crazy!”
“...I agree, sir,” the subordinate said. “This is just... getting out of hand. Ever since Highcloud died, everyone’s been on guard. What if Castshot is right? What if there really is a loyalist... or more, among us?”
“That’s defeatist talk,” the officer replied, releasing his grip on the servant and nodding to the subordinate to do the same. “Fine. Get out of here... or rather, hide. You won’t make it far since the skies are guarded and gates are closed. Just hide somewhere safe until this all blows over.”
“Thank you... thank you, sir,” the servant said, graciously bowing before him. “You don’t know how much this means to me...”
“You’re very welcome.” The officer sighed, taking off his helmet and running a claw through his feathered head. “I just wish we could do more for the others upstairs. Well, what are you still doing here, servant? Get out of here!”
“Sheesh, this just keeps getting better and better...” Mendoza muttered under his breath. Pastor merely shook his head at his comment, none of them making a single move and observing the pair of guards instead.
“Is it really that bad, sir?” the subordinate asked.
“What do you mean by that?” the officer gruffly replied, replacing his helmet and tossing an annoyed look at him.
“You were... in the war room, weren’t you? Did the general, you know... lose his stones?”
“You know, rookie, you would probably do better if you didn’t ask all of these questions. The more inquisitive types usually end up at the Institute of Magic, but sometimes we get a bright one like you slipping through the cracks.” He sighed. “Yeah, I believe he’s finally lost it. Never seen a general get spooked so badly.”
“Do you think it might have something to do with the... coup? That he’s finally going to get his just desserts?”
“Honestly, I have no idea. Everyone’s getting spooked now because he’s spooked. Doesn’t reflect well on us. You study military hierarchy at the academy?”
“Yeah, I did, but—”
“Then you know why our tradition dictates that we normally do not question our superiors. We expect them to be of sound mind, to be able to properly make decisions for their soldiers that will result in the best outcome in war. Pointing talons at anyone who so much as even looks at you in the wrong way is not indicative of a sound mind.”
“Then why don’t we simply just depose him and install a new general?” the subordinate asked.
The officer shook his head. “Because of Strongbeak. That’s the thing about coups, you see: they’re never as easy as you’d think it would be. Now come on, let’s get back before they start looking for us... and try to ignore the mess upstairs. I wouldn’t want to be any of the soldiers in charge of cleaning up that.”
Both returned up the stairs, their armor clapping as their sabatons sounded off up the steps. Talbot took a mental note of the conversation: Castshot was involving civilians, the extent in which he did so was still unknown. Given how that conversation ended, though, Talbot assumed that it probably wasn’t anything good.
“A mess upstairs?” Mendoza said. “Something tells me that it isn’t from any kind of party...”
“Executions?” Raymond wondered.
“A possibility. One that I hope that’s completely wrong,” Talbot said. “I’ll take point, form up and keep an eye out for anyone else.” He exited his perch hiding behind a statue adorned with some rustic griffonic leather armor, stepping down the red-carpeted hall towards the staircase winding up at the end of the hall.
He paused for a moment, raising an ear to hear if there were any further noises; there were none. Looking over his shoulder, he only received curious looks of confusion from the rest of Anvil Squad, and he turned back, face furrowed into contemplation. A cold feeling sat at the bottom of his stomach, a gut feeling that they weren’t going to like what was up there.
But he forged on; the task needed to be accomplished. The sight of what appeared to be bloodstains caking the walls at random intervals up the stairs, increasing in number as they caught the evidence through the flickering torch lights, caused the apprehension in him to grow, and he gripped his MR8’s handle tighter.
So it figured that Castshot’s war room would be situated within a gigantic tower. The bloodstains that the Ghosts encountered early on during their beginning ascent soon gave way to more floors, rife with past clues of scuffles: broken furniture, smashed glass, torn bits of clothing, and obviously, more blood.
“Must have been one hell of a party...” Mendoza whispered, shaking his head at a rag of cloth hanging off of a splintered end of what used to be a table. “What the hell do you think happened here?”
“Executions,” Raymond mentioned again. “But I doubt that. No bodies, and they’d have nowhere to take them, or at least nowhere they could go without us noticing them on the way up. They might have just thrown them out the windows, but it looks like the guards outside don’t know a thing about what’s going on in here.”
“Maybe they herded them up and took them to the war room. You heard the conversation earlier,” Pastor said, kneeling down to inspect a rugged tan feather on the ground. “I think Castshot is trying to surround himself with meat shields. Cannon fodder, in case any of his supposed traitors may get any funny ideas.”
“But there aren’t any traitors in his ranks...?” Mendoza said.
“That’s the problem. Strongbeak and his generals seem to think that their own were the ones who killed Highcloud,” Talbot said. Noticing a small pool of specks blood on the tiled floor below the painting he was inspecting, he crouched down and examined it up close. “Well, the blood isn’t dried. We might just have a chance, after all.”
“If he’s holed up in that war room, and that place only has one way in, this could get nasty real easily,” Mendoza said. “Was there ever anything about breaching into a room with a single tango and a wall full of civvies in the books?”
“No, because there was never anyone crazy or able enough to do something like that,” Raymond said. “Griffonic deference to authority means that we have a high-value target that is easily capable of achieving that. And to compound the problem, stuff like this is something that we usually only see in Hollywood action flicks, not real life.”
“Real life... as if skulking around a fortress full of griffons in a world where talking ponies exist isn’t real enough,” Mendoza said facetiously.
“It’s as real as it’ll get,” Talbot said. “Simply just walking inside and offing the target is no longer on our list of options. And judging by that aforementioned conversation, he’s holed up all his soldiers in that room, too.”
“Breach, flash, and clear, then?” Pastor said.
“For the moment, yes,” Talbot said, standing up and walking around to inspect broken shards of weaponry hanging around the room he was in. “At least it seems that some of the taken didn’t go without a fight.”
“Don’t you mean, breach, flash, tag that son of a bitch, then bug out? That’s all we came here to do, right?” Mendoza tapped the devices on his belt, strapped in a line. “Well, assuming that we can get away with it, that is... not sure what our current policy is with giving them a used grenade.”
“I’d rather avoid it, but this might force our hand.” The war room was undoubtedly at the top of the tower, and with a way to ascend above the room itself, they might be able to gain a vantage point that allowed them to eliminate Castshot with minimal casualties. This, of course, being a purely hypothetical situation since it was very possible that the war room was the highest point in the tower one could reach.
“Avoiding direct confrontation against griffons swinging swords would be nice,” Raymond said, picking up and reading a scrap of paper he’d found on the floor. “General is taking us to war room, might kill us all. Please help.” He looked at the open window he’d found it sitting under, before tossing the paper out the window.
“Well, they said ‘please’. Guess we have no choice but to help them, huh?” Mendoza said, laughing softly, until a crash interrupted his good mood. Enemy signatures began to blink into existence on their visors.
“Someone’s coming down from upstairs,” Talbot whispered, gesturing for them to hide and taking cover inside the room behind him, a study filled with books; the other Ghosts each scattered into one of the six rooms on the floor. He leaned his transparent head out to see that a six-griffon squad of Strongbeak’s elites were now gathered at the end, discussing their battle plan.
“Okay, all of you, here’s the plan: we fan out, take cover in these rooms, and ambush any possible attackers that come up the steps,” the leader said, wearing a resplendent golden helm with a tall red plume on top.
“Permission to speak, captain,” one of them requested.
“Go ahead.”
“Who are we going to ambush?” the soldier asked. “The battle in the city is clearly in our favor. We have nothing to fear from these petty loyalists, captain.”
The captain groaned in disapproval. “That’s the kind of thinking that got Highcloud killed. They might already be among us, or they might be marching up the hill to the fortress as we speak. Either way, we must be ready. Get in position and stand ready.”
The five griffons before him saluted and scattered, each heading off to their own respective rooms in their hall. Mendoza displayed heart rate increased as he held his breath, watching as three of them passed by his hiding spot right next to an upright statue of a griffon posturing with a sword, and feeling a small gust of wind pass him by as the griffons sauntered by dangerously close, flapping their wings idleness.
“So... what do we do?” Raymond asked, hiding on top of a pile of fallen bookshelves as he watched his closest target examining the paintings on the wall. “Offing them seems like a good option: the moment we kill Castshot, they’ll be in the way of our escape.”
“And what, risk tipping him off early?” Mendoza hissed into his comm. “He might get antsy and start killing civilians if he knows for sure that someone’s here, and they’re after him.”
“Touch choice. Your call, boss,” Pastor notified Talbot.
Talbot could see the griffon in his room digging through the scattered messy piles of broken shards, in the room that now assumed used to be an armory of some sorts. A number of closed chests and still-occupied weapon racks seemed to indicate as such, so the griffon continued to drift around the room, inspecting the equipment.
That gave him time to think: was it really worth it raising an early alarm to clear out their escape route? No doubt that as soon as his body was found—and it would be found quickly—that the elites would immediately be recalled to the war room to engage intruders. But they hadn’t been ordered to stick together, merely wait for any unfortunate party to pass by to ambush them.
Which so delivered them into the perfect situation to be ambushed.
“Fuse has a point. These guys will be up our asses the moment we score the kill, and as we’ve discussed before, no point in testing our mettle against griffon steel.” The griffon turned around and stared straight in his direction, presenting his open helm as a perfect target for him. “Isolate and eliminate the targets.”
“Affirmative,” Raymond said. His miniature profile shown through the walls raised his arms, and the target before him went dark as he made his kill, with only a small thump of their fitted armor landing on the ground marking their deaths masked by the weather outside. “Kill confirmed... but these guys hit the ground pretty hard.”
“At least their armor doesn’t go click-clack like the regular guys usually wear. I suppose that’s a good thing,” Mendoza said. The demolitions expert’s closest enemy signature went dark. “And another one bites the dust.”
Shortly after, Pastor made his kill. “Another down,” he responded.
Raymond took the initiative and immediately relocated himself to the room further down the hall, passing by the captain as he made his way down the hall and eliminating the fourth griffon without notice. That left two: the captain, and the one in front of Talbot, who was now twirling a blade around in his claws.
“Moving to eliminate the captain,” Pastor notified, exiting the room he was in just as a huge influx of wind into the hall extinguished several torches, causing the captain to pause.
“Huh. Looks like I have to relight these...” the griffon muttered. “Does anyone still have a lit torch around here?” he called out.
“Uh... there’s one in here!” Talbot’s target shouted back. Pastor crouched by his doorway, as a single line for his weapon sights appeared on Talbot’s visor, tracking the captain’s head.
“Ready to make the shot. On your mark.”
Talbot looked back down his own sights, watching as the griffon grabbed the torch off the far wall and began walking to his captain with it. “Fire.”
Two silent hisses sounded as the griffons met at the doorway. The bullets penetrated their helmets’ plating, going straight into their skulls and killing them instantly. Their bodies fell to the ground and landed in a heap, the captain underneath the soldier.
“Well, that went pretty smoothly,” Mendoza said, walking out of his room and strolling straight down the corridor. “Just a single step of stairs up. I’ll bet this is the end of the line.”
“Fuse, prep charges. Let’s go see what our host has in store,” Talbot said.
“Big double doors, nothing else but walls on either side, and ceiling above us,” Mendoza said lowly. “Shit.”
“He’s locked this place down pretty well,” Pastor whispered, leaning his head closer to the door. “Can’t hear anything. But all those signatures on my visor isn’t making this look optimistic.”
Talbot frowned beneath his balaclava. Beyond that door numbered more than fifty signatures, numbers between civilian and soldier completely unknown. The closest other adornment in this forsaken staircase was a single set of crystal chandeliers hanging right above them, aside from the rest of the area, painted completely in red.
“No... wait.” Raymond pointed at a small alcove above the massive doorframe. “There’s something there. Check it out.”
Talbot nodded to Pastor. “Send the UAV up to take a look.”
Pastor nodded back, reaching around and grabbing the small compact block and tossed it into the air. The device unfurled its rotors, giving a quiet hum as it activated and began ascending on Pastor’s directions. Live feed was streamed to their visors as the UAV reached the top of the ceiling, revealing a small pair of air ducts for ventilation into the room.
Talbot didn’t have to say anything as Pastor moved the UAV forward, barely fitting in through one of the ducts as it found its way into the war room. The infrared view made it hard to make out all the figures clumped in the room, but other signs were there: soldiers were on the perimeters, while the civilians and others were crowded together in the center, providing most of the noise as they whimpered and cried under the soldiers’ watchful gaze.
The problem was that Castshot was impossible to point out in the crowd.
“Agh, can’t get anything on this guy...” Pastor said. “One way in, anyhow. Fuse, get that breaching charge set up.”
“With pleasure,” Mendoza said, pasting the small yellow block above the door handles as he whipped out the detonator. “Good to go.”
“What’s the size of the room?” Talbot inquired.
“Small. Really small, actually,” Pastor noted, tapping a few buttons on the UAV control device on his armguard. “Guards are practically against the walls and toe-to-toe with the crowd. Looks like they moved the table to the end of the room so they could amass them all in the center.”
“Can the UAV’s electrical shock disorient them long enough for us to make our shot?” The UAV’s electrical pulse had a decent range and adequate power output, enough to leave a regular human completely fazed for several seconds. Talbot’s hope was that it would work on griffons, too.
“It’ll work, but I’m not sure if that’s worth the risk.” He shook his head. “Screw this damn UAV and its thermal-only grainy-as-fuck camera. I can’t find Castshot through any of this mess.”
Talbot inwardly cursed; with so many of them within, individual profiles were impossible to see with the UAV’s cameras. Just about the only time he wished it was equipped with a regular camera instead of thermal. Things weren’t entirely too bad, however, as it seemed that Castshot had simply taken to holing himself up in the room instead of giving the fortress guns clear permission to fire upon the city.
“Maybe... there’s this?” Pastor put the UAV into standby and pulled out a small wire from his armguard, appeared to be outfitted with a stub at the end.
“What is it?” Talbot asked.
“Another tool that I picked up during my time with the NSA. It’s a camera, and I just wire this thing underneath the door and we can see what’s on the other side.” He walked over to the door and slipped the camera through.
“...probably doesn’t help that you can’t see much with that view,” Raymond said.
“Better than nothing,” Pastor said, shrugging as he nodded slowly. “But... I can also pick up sound better, too. Listen to this.” He tapped a button on the PDA and began transferring audio from within the room.
“...wh-why can’t we just... why can’t we leave?”
“Because, you idiot, the general wants us all here. We’re to... to act as his shields in case of emergency.”
“But... I don’t want to die!”
“Quiet down there! No talking!”
“No! This is enough! Why is the general resorting to such cowardly tactics to fight an enemy? The loyalists are on our doorstep and yet he chooses to hide in here!”
Pastor left the wire there as a microphone and switched back to the UAV, bringing it further down and hanging it right above the room’s chandelier. If he could get close enough to the floor level, then perhaps he could make them out based upon their heads and who was speaking instead.
The UAV relocated itself to a position in the corner of the room just to the right of the door, just out of reach of the chandelier and above a guard’s post.
“What the general does is none of your concern, servant,” one of the guards growled.
“How fitting that he resorts to letting his subordinates speak for him!” Pastor caught the offending servant’s head as he turned his gaze towards the northwest, the far left corner of the war room. “I would think that he would at least have the gall to speak for himself...”
“Then speak I shall.” Pastor smirked as a single griffon stood up, holding his head high as he took a deep breath. “I believe one of you in here is a traitor. And I will not have my life taken in such an unseemly fashion! No blade through my back will be had here, and I will not go as quietly as Highcloud did!”
“Got him,” Pastor said, isolating Castshot’s single target signature with a yellow glow. “There’s our griffon.”
“Stack up and prepare for breach,” Talbot ordered. Two gathered on each side of the wall: Mendoza up front on left with Pastor behind him, with Talbot on the lead on the right side with Raymond to follow. “Move UAV into position and prepare to administer electrical pulse.”
“Moving UAV into position.” Pastor moved the UAV to the center of the room again, hanging high above Castshot’s head until the signal was given to drop down and then discharge its electrifying surprise to the entire room. “Bot’s in position. Ready.”
“Flash going in or not?” Mendoza asked, pointing at the door as he held up the detonator with his right hand.
“No chances. Blind and shock ought to keep them confused for a while.” Mendoza nodded as Talbot holstered his MR8 and pulled out the cylindrical flashbang grenade, slipping a finger through the pin. “I’ll make the shot with my revolver. High caliber is the best way to ensure the kill. Scope stands overwatch. Ready on three.”
“Roger...” Mendoza said, holding up his fingers to count down the breach.
Three.
“...and I don’t have to bother explaining myself to you, you urchin! My station is far more important to the likes of you and it is imperative that I remain alive to oversee this operation! Strongbeak would have it no other way!” Castshot shouted, his gravelly voice causing the servants to recoil in terror.
Mendoza dropped a finger after a moment, delaying the pause between the counts to eavesdrop on the conversation. The action was allowed, as Talbot was . Two.
The lone servant stood defiant against his captor. “So this is how it all is, isn’t it? A promise of glory and a return to the golden ages, built upon a tower of lies and subterfuge. I had thought the proud griffon military to be above such things. Where adoration and acceptance once stood, fear and revulsion stands in their place.”
Another finger fell, and Talbot’s grip on the flashbang tightened. One.
“You insolent fool,” Castshot said coldly. “When our forces are victorious here and defeat the loyalists, you will be the first paraded out to the chopping block. And I’ll make an example of you to the rest of—”
A lone finger lowered, leaving only a gloved fist. Zero.
Mendoza squeezed the handle of his detonator.
Pastor tapped the UAV’s electrical pulse button on his PDA.
Talbot pulled the pin on the flashbang, rearing up his arm to throw.
And all hell broke loose.
The next few events could be best described as a massive clusterfuck, the whole act proceeding almost as if it were an orchestrated dance of death. Pastor struck first as the UAV dispersed a brilliant radius of coursing energy throughout the room, paralyzing their bodies over the span of the next several seconds as they went to work.
Mendoza’s charge blasted through the door despite its bulky wooden material and sent a shower of splintered wood fragments and sheared metal flying into the war room. Those griffons close enough to the blast were immediately knocked down to the ground, and many of them the servants that had been clustered near the front of the room alongside the nearby guards, exposing the latter part of the group to their line of sight... including Castshot.
Talbot struck third, hurling the flashbang clear through the gap they’d made for themselves, all four of them shielding themselves from the imminent detonation as the griffons still reeled from the force of the breaching charge. The blindingly deafening explosion that followed set them up for their next action.
“Cover me!” Talbot said. No brass casings to leave behind. That was the rule, and it was still one they could adhere to; unfortunate happenstance with the grenade, but it had to be done. He pulled the strap off of his sidearm holster and pulled out his revolver, sidestepping left and standing up as he centered his line of sight.
He brought up the revolver to fire, staring down the iron sight for a shot in contrast to the targeting system that the MR8 came equipped with to synergize with their visors. The dust began to clear as the griffons started shouting to each other, in both worry and guarded concern. The sound of metal rang as weapons were drawn.
Castshot’s face was buried in his claws, his head shaking violently as he fought off the disorientation from the flashbang. His face stared up in pain as he squinted through the dust... to find Talbot staring him down the barrel of his gun, a two-legged being appearing before him instead of the expected griffon or a pony.
Talbot watched him through the sights, the tick at the end lined up with the griffon’s face, for what felt like an eternity. His gaze was locked behind an opaque visor as Castshot’s expression was one of pure confusion that slowly began to contort into shock as he realized who they were. They were the ones who had come to kill him and needed to be stopped right now, but Talbot didn’t give him much time to dwell on that any further.
A single roaring boom from Talbot’s revolver resounded as his bullet pierced the side of Castshot’s head and exploded out the other side in a stream of blood and brain matter. The general keeled over with his eyes glazing over, landing in front of the guards behind him as panic began to set in full scale.
“What.... the general... the general’s dead! Find the assassins, now!”
That was their cue to run, and led them to their current predicament.
“Thank God for these fucking exos!” Mendoza huffed as they reached the bottom of the stairs. The griffons were hot behind them, almost immediately taking pursuit as soon as the order was given.
“Halt!” a griffon called after them.
“As if...” Raymond said. “Hide or run?”
“Run!” Talbot ordered, until he heard the sound of flapping. He groaned; of course they had wings. How could they have forgotten that? Another grenade might need to be used to cement their escape, and his left hand tightened the grip on his belt as they approached the end of the hall.
They skidded to a halt as several of the griffons cut them off as the chasing group surrounded the Ghosts at blade point.
“...what the hell are these things? Minotaurs?”
“Too small. And no horns or the muscular features. What the hell are they wearing?”
“Doesn’t matter. They killed the general. Take ‘em in, I’m sure Strongbeak would want to talk to these guys...”
“Over your cold dead bodies!” they heard a voice scream from the room on their left, the one with the open window that Raymond had tossed the letter out of. A blur of feather and gold burst through, wounding one of the elites with a swing of his blade. “Your reckoning has come, fools!”
“An Imperial Guard?!” the wounded griffon said, stepping back as more griffons flew in through the window to join their comrade. He turned to gawk at the other elites, who in turn were also gawking at the humans. “What are you waiting for?! Kill—ergh!” He was cut off as Raymond planted a bullet in his throat.
“Down, Ghosts!” the Guard called. Talbot and the others ducked and rolled in the griffon’s direction as the Guard swung his blade to parry a stab coming from behind them. “I take it you’ve accomplished your task?” he grunted, trading steel as the other Guards joined the fight.
“Yeah. Why?” Talbot said, shooting an elite in the foot and exposing him to a slash across the side.
“Hard to miss the sound of your weapons.”
“Did Bloodfury send you? Who are you?” Talbot asked, dropping behind the Guard and forming into a half-circle with the rest of the Ghosts as the Imperial Guards pushed forward.
“Don’t you recognize me? It’s Leret!” he said, parrying again and diving left, circling around and countering with a stab into the elite’s side, through a weak point in his armor. He punched the elite in the back of the head, knocking his body to the ground, and turned his attention to the steadily dwindling numbers of enemies in the hall.
“What?” Talbot asked, judging their situation. With their numbers totaling seven, the elites still outnumbered them two-to-one. “Is it just you three?”
“Yes. Bloodfury and his unit are currently engaged in the skies, and the regular soldiers are storming the castle grounds on foot.” Leret’s next swing missed when the elite he was charging flinched backwards as Talbot shot him in the face. “Remind me not to show my face when I’m on your bad side!”
“I don’t get it...” Mendoza said loudly as his bullet pinged off of an elite’s armor on the left side of the hall, forcing them into a defensive position. “Why don’t they just surrender?”
“Their honor won’t allow it. And they’d end up on the chopping block anyway,” Leret said gruffly. “An honorable death is greater than living up to the shame of being a traitor!”
“Strongbeak is the true ruler of the Empire! And you loyalist fools are too blind to see that!” Leret turned to face an elite brandishing a greatsword like his own.
“He sits on a throne of lies and false promises!” Leret returned, meeting the elite in battle as their numbers became equalized in the heat of combat. Their blades crossed and they matched off, delving into claw-to-claw combat techniques as they spun around until Leret gained the upper hand by performing a side spin and hopped onto the elite’s back, flattening him into the ground. “He jeopardizes our long-fought peace to satisfy his want for power. And no quarter will be spared to him... nor you.” He stabbed into the elite’s neck, twisting once to finish the job.
As Leret hopped off of the corpse, the battle came to an end. His allies had fared better in combat, assisted by the Ghosts and unfettered by extended monologues, and had finished the battle right as he ended his.
“Guard superiority, huh?” Mendoza said, picking up his brass casings from the floor.
“That battle could have gone either way without your help,” Leret said, bending down to assist him. “Our other task was to ensure that Castshot was dead. I assume he is upstairs?”
Talbot nodded. “Along with a whole group of civilians. He was using them as shields.”
“Cowardly,” Leret said amusedly. “It does not surprise me. Generals they may be, they’re all the same in the end, and they’ll all answer. They now know that, and they fear for their lives.”
“So with that, what do we do? Exit the castle downstairs?”
“Unlikely. The soldiers will be storming the defenses and scouring the entire castle from top to bottom,” Leret said. “Unlike the Guard, they do not know of your existence. They will most likely view you as an enemy and attempt to kill you.”
“Charming,” Mendoza said. “So we’re stuck here?”
“Indeed. Feel free to take up residence in one of the rooms. Your task here is done. Marus, Aergrus, form up on me. We head upstairs to the war room.” Leret turned, sheathing his sword as the two followed him into the distance, leaving the humans alone in the hall.
“Well... that was... nice.” Mendoza stuffed his fistful of casings into an empty pouch on his back belt. “So we just hang here for the next half-day or whatever until they finish clearing this place?” He scoffed. “That’ll be fun.”
“Let’s just focus on one thing at a time, okay?” Pastor said, leisurely picking up his own spent casings as Talbot moved to help Raymond with his collection. “Can’t help it, after all. Just let them do their thing, and we can just relax.”
“Yeah, well...” Mendoza shrugged, walking into the room with the open window and kicking away dust and rubble to clear himself out a sitting spot. “If any of you guys can read griffon, you can just help yourselves to some books... otherwise, I got a pack of cards we can use.”
“Is there anything you don’t bring?” Raymond asked.
“A handy teleportation device that could help us get home, for one. Aside from that... well, helps to be prepared for every situation. Including boredom,” he said, laughing as he sat down. “And, hey, if we’re really in a rush to get out, we have an open window right there. You know, we could totally do with some wingsuits or something. That would be awesome.”
“I’m just more interested in our next target.”
“What, Red Talon?” Mendoza said, drawing out a tic-tac-toe board in the dirt on the ground. “He’s holed up in his own little fortress, isn’t he? That ought to be fun to get into. Hey, any of you guys want to play some tic-tac-toe?”
“I’m game,” Pastor said, sitting down across from him. “So, rock-paper-scissors for who gets X...?”
Raymond and Talbot walked over to the window, basking in the view over the entire city and the sky filled with griffons fighting. “Got something on your mind, sir?” Raymond asked his superior.
“Red Talon, among other things,” Talbot said. “That, and wondering how things are going on the home front. Hope our little escapades here have given them some breathing room.”
“I’m sure they’re doing fine, sir.” Raymond paused, eyes following a plume of smoke rising from the market square. “The sooner we can finish this damn thing, the sooner we can get home. Or try to, anyway. Aside from that, I think I’m going to catch some shut-eye. Wake me up if we need to shoot something.” He patted Talbot on the shoulder and retreated to the corner of the room next to Mendoza and Pastor, disappearing in camouflage as he went to sleep.
Talbot looked out into the horizon, as the clouds slowly began to part. Growing sunlight began to paint the city in a glow of yellow, reflections from the rainwater giving it a crystal shine. The battlements, littered with bodies both friend and foe, experienced the first calm since the attack began as the loyalists shifted their focus from combat to clean up. Kruvem was theirs.
Yet despite the view, Talbot’s mind was elsewhere. He was no scientist, so he was not inclined to wondering how they got there, nor was he concerned about the whys behind it. A portal was meant to be a two-way street, from point A to point B. They had ended up here without a return portal, and didn’t have a schematic to make another one.
Harvey’s mind may be talented, but even he couldn’t replicate one from scratch, nor did he have the means to properly identify important materials used in its construction—assuming that he even knew what components were required, if Maynard had actually bothered to let him observe. The chances were so astronomically against them that it would require a miracle to successfully build one.
Would they be able to return home, to that blasted rock of theirs floating through space as their countrymen continued to point guns at everyone else? Or would they be stuck here, in a land where everything was normal, except for them?
He shook his head, leaning against the wall and staring out into the sky.
Only something as ludicrous as magic could help them make it back.
But knowing the princesses and the power they wielded... magic just might work.
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"Dude we're ponies" + THIS? HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!
I play video games way too much. I imagined walking into one of those blue circles from the actual game, seeing "Press A to breach" appear and acting out the whole slo-mo sidearm shot. Perhaps that's not a bad thing, if you can recreate that type of experience usinng a completely different medium to the original.
I also have to fight the urge to pick up every stray bobby pin I see (curse you Fallout 3) and I cannot look at a garden bed without seeing a "Press A to pick [colour] Mountain Flower" (200+ hours of Skyrim will do that).
Do the Ghosts in Future Soldier have exoskeletons or was that just shown in the trailer and cut from the game?
1880299 It was shown in the trailer but cut from the game, unfortunately. As were the combat drones, as well.
It would have been interesting if I had chosen to bring a moving machinegun nest with them into Equestria, though.
1880302 Only until it ran out of ammo or broke down or ran out of power or got stuck in a hole or fell down a flight of stairs.
That's the main problem I have with machines in Equestria-long term use.
Also, holy crapballs your reply was quick.
1880316 I keep close tabs on my notifications.
*Jack in the Box sfx*
...
"EXPLODE! goes the griffon~"
---> Basically any plan by and involving Mendoza.
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
Glad to see their status as spooks is coming along nicely. I won't be suprised if they become the means griffon parents would scare their kids with after all this.
You know I just noticed how the plot somewhat relates to the future soldier game.
A four man squad is sent to help loyalist to retake their position.
Nice reference to rainbow six with the snake cam.
Heh wingsuits, this isn't black ops 2
1880348 Yep, snake cams. Handy little things.
And the wingsuit thing was indeed a reference to BLOPS2. I thought they looked cool but the instances they would be used to be extremely circumstantial. Like jumping out of the top floor of a castle tower.
188035
Not really stealthy or subtle when you see four bipedal creatures flying out of a castle while one of them saying this is f**king awesome!
I'll write after I've had my fill of college friends busting down my door.
finaly
I love how this chapter just starts off slow then revs up, then finally just drops back to slow.
no
I couldn't agree with you more, I'm reading over 100 different fics, and almost none of them have updated in the last 2 months!
That's why you need approximately 400 stories, with set schedules that give updates weekly-ish. I even have a couple that update every 3 days without fail.
♫Come little chicks it's time for bed.
Brush your teeth, rest your head
Listen my chicks, listen to me
If not, a tale most scary♪
♫They come in the night when candles glow
The Sun is set, and darkness grows.
Through whispers they fly on death's wings
Ghosts walk the shadows as they sing.♪
♫"What is that? A hiss in the night?"
"No my dear, do not fright.
Come to bed now; it's just the wind."
A sound echoes out of the din.♪
♫By shadows they come into the house
None may hear it, not even a mouse
Into the bedroom, a silent storm
The wife is asleep and cannot warn.♪
♫First light she rises and she yawns
But the bed is cold by morning dawn
"Where are you, my sweet?" is her beckoning call
Silence greets her in the darkened halls♪
♫Listen my chicks, and listen well
On these phantasms you must not dwell.
Listen to your elders, for they are right.
We rule the sky, the Ghosts own the Night.♪
A lyricist I am not.
I imagined the Ghosts would become some kind of Griffon Boogeyman when this is all over and this came to mind.
Not my favorite chapter, but still great all the same. My only real nitpick was that if Castshot got flashbanged, he'd be lucky to see anything other than his scorched retinas for the next five minutes. Those things can burn so bright that they can literally knock you unconscious with the flash alone.
1882833
That's actually pretty good
a bit of refining and I can totally see it being a Gryphonic lullaby at the end of the war.
1882833 Very nice lullaby, and fits with the story quite well.
I did take some liberties with the flashbang, yes, though I guess it could be partially alleviated if you've a group of other people standing in front of you.
1882833 You are awesome
Write, my dear author! WRITE!
"Equestrian special forces" has a certain ring about it.
Impressive action scene. I can easily picture one of those awesome door-breach scenes in Call of Duty.
And as one of those "other authors," I have actually been writing! Certain episodes have necessitated annoying rewrites.
Finally, loving the new profile name and picture.
1890184 Thank you, on both the scene and the name. I decided to switch it out after finally getting the Descent Complete collection from GOG, and installing some mods which really brought it some new life. The originals are comparably much better than Descent 3.
That said, I am very much looking forward to your next update.
Well, Since the new year is in, I have to get back to writing. And I got Future Soldier for Christmas, loving the game too, so now I feel more immersed in the story than before.
Great chapter BTW!
1892335 There's a running joke that I noticed in the game. Two words: DIAMOND FORMATION.
Just about the only formation they ever use.
First things first
th02.deviantart.net/fs71/200H/f/2012/188/9/d/ghost_recon__all_series__by_vr_7-d56b3ym.png
That's cool. Second:
1885010
1885023
1885204
Thanks a lot! I really wrote it (mostly) stream of conscious and I thought it fit well. If you want to use it M.D., go ahead.
Lastly, events have gone quite well for the Ghosts. Three generals are down, with only a little trouble for each. There's tension, but it doesn't feel like as if they could fail. What I am wondering is if there will be future instances where problems occur, i.e., running out of bullets, the enemy discovers their race/tactics/identity, one gets seriously wounded, etc. No need to go into specifics, but is there something like that in the future?
1895854 All the the points you have brought in have been deliberated upon before, and a huge plethora of possible situations have arisen from it, including the ones you've mentioned. I haven't really picked one as a 'clincher' of sorts to put them in a serious bind, however; I usually pick and see these situations through when the story best fits upon them, so there's a moderate lack of down-the-line planning. That's not to say that while the Ghosts are not infallible, neither are the ponies. I intend (well, hopefully intend) there to be a mix of tension from both sides.
One benefit of being stuck there in the castle for a while, they can go get the spent flashbang.
Or get one of the guards to do it for them.
This is an excellent crossover. Upvoted and favorited!
Also, I'm surprised Harvey hasn't thought of fuel-air bombs. With magic, it should be easy to encapsulate aerosolized flammable gas/fluid and deliver it and KABOOM! Would require comparatively little magic too, since the blast itself is entirely mundane. Hell, there have been dust cloud explosions that work the same way in old flour mills so it is hardly something that needs advanced technology to replicate.
Though on the other hand, I guess that would make things a bit too easy for the ponies. Pony: Griffon forces sighted! Deliver vapor cloud bombs!
*improbably huge explosions occurs - massive griffon casualties - rinse and repeat as needed*
That'd make for a short war.
Hey when you mentioned the MR8 rifle, is it the one with the bullpup configuration from the game?
2026631 the better option rarely makes for better entertainment-Cinema Wins,2016