Drumming a finger impatiently on the polished, ultra-basic stainless steel of her work station, Sparrow stared dully at the duty roster on the display of her work terminal. She hated making duty rosters with a passion; hell, she hated eighty percent of the desk work her position entailed. Whoever got cleaning the heads would complain. Whoever got stuck guarding the armoury, near the furious slab of flesh that threatened to tear their limbs off if they twitched, would complain. The only thing they could all agree on was complaining in general about how ruthless OâRyanâs training was.
Resting her forehead against the desk, the sergeant gave a low groan as she dug her fingers into her scalp. Couldnât she just lead the little bastards, and make someone else get them to do the rest of their jobs? Wasnât she supposed to have an assistant? There was an automated hiss from the door, signalling someone had entered the office but she didnât look up as whoever they were moved into the room. Judging by the footsteps, there were two, confirmed by one of the chairs across from her sliding out while a hand came to rest on her shoulder.
âYouâre actually working for once, Sparrow?â She lifted her head slightly, loose red hair obscuring her vision of the source until she brushed it aside lazily and fixed him with a less than amused expression. âOr attempting to, at least.â Sergeant First Class Nathan Percy chuckled lightly, his wrinkled face smiling down at her. His light brown hair was already beginning to grey in some places, and his face had the beginnings of a salt and pepper beard forming. It was difficult to believe the man was only three years her senior, but after something like Titan, it wasnât surprising to see a man gain a few years.
âStow it, Nathan.â She muttered, leaning on her cheek on her arm with a faux frown on her lips. âIâve got duty rosters crawling out my ass and then some disciplinary actions to issue to some unfortunate idiots.â Her fellow sergeant laughed, removing his hand as he dropped into one of the work stations to her right.
The room was a joint office that had been set up for the NCOs to use for their work regarding their companies and platoons respectively. The platoon leads had a trio of work terminals lining opposite ends of a large rectangular âdeskâ while the Master Sergeants enjoyed their own private work stations in the two back corners. Aside from the work areas, it was mostly unfurnished, save for a small couch that hugged the right hand corner when you entered the room, with a small coffee table and, more importantly, coffee machine sitting atop it.
There was an airy, mocking chuckle from the station in front of her, and Sparrow shot the source a look. âYou wouldnât have so much work to do at once if you actually did it when you got it, Oberacker.â One of her fellow Victory leads sat across from her, Jessica Mareen, who led the First platoon. The brown-skinned woman flashed a knowing grin at her colleagueâs deepening frown, powering up her terminal with a tap as she brushed a few locks of raven black hair from her eyes. âDonât act so testy, itâs your own fault. Always off picking fights with your troops, or lazing around the observation bayâŠâ
âItâs called hands-on-training, Mareen. Itâs good for morale!â
âWhoâs? Yours or theirs? Iâm quite sure you get enough jollies from beating on those poor privates all the time!â Nathan snickered as Sparrow slumped back into her seat, knowing a losing battle when she saw one. âActually, I think thereâs been a noted drop in injuries from your platoonâŠwhy is that?â
âBeats me.â
Nathan, who hadnât even attempted to power up his work station, was quick to refute her. âThe word going around the ship, I hear itâs more because youâve focused your abuse onto one particular marine. One of the privatesâŠRonald, was it?â
âItâs Roger.â She corrected, although she immediately bit her tongue at his smug grin. âDonât set me up like that, Nathan, I still want to believe youâve got my backâŠâ He held his hands up in mock defence, looking like sheâd actually hurt him, at least until she jabbed a threatening finger in his direction and the Titan relented.
Mareen rolled her eyes as her fingers typed away on her haptic interface, sorting through her workload with a practiced ease that made Sparrow slightly envious of the older womanâs experience with leadership. Nathan finally fired up his own, still nudging her slightly in the ribs with his elbow to assure her that the teasing would resume when they didnât have work to do.
As much as she could do without them prodding her about beating up one of her privates, the sergeant almost wished theyâd continue so she had an excuse not to try and finish this damn roster. Or hell, that she could go and train that damn private, because thatâs what it was, training, no matter how much Nathan poked her in the side with his overly pointy elbow. Pressing her head on the desk again, Sparrow exhaled sharply, suddenly wishing she had had the foresight to bring her cigarette. âSome days, I wonder if OâRyan promoted you as a punishmentâŠâ Mareen muttered through an amused smirk.
âThat would be cruel and unorthodoxâŠâ There was a long pause before she tilted her head back to face the woman with a grimace. âWhich makes me think that he might have.â Summoning up the will to at least attempt the roster, her fingers lifted to the haptic interface as she regarded the information one more time.
The door hissed open as she moved for her first keystroke, and the three sergeants turned their heads in unison to see the newcomer, surprised to find Tyler Carson, the Master Sergeant in charge of Victory Company. Whatever the man had been intending to say was immediately cut short as the intercom came to life with the always boisterous and demanding Commander Horn on the other end.
âAttention beautiful and handsome crew of the Call of Victory, this is your ever present and badass Commander speaking. We are about to embark on our most daring, our most dangerous, and our most pivotal mission to date. Some of you might be hearing this, and getting scared. Others, excited. Even more, horny. Kinky, I know, but it happens.â Sparrow chuckled lightly at the manâs antics, leaning her head on the flat of her palm.
âHowever! Now is not the time for feelings, good or otherwise! Because, ladies and gentlemen! We are neededâŠâ There was a beat of silence, for what she assumed was dramatic effect. âTo show Commander Vala Buchan just how a ship and her crew should operate! We are needed to explain to her, and her crew just how much marines kick ass! We are needed to show that this ship, her crew, and her illustrious Commander get shit done! So marines! Prep yourselves! Battery officers! Load the weapons! Techies! Write me some god damn miracle code! Ladies! Hand me your numbers! Brace yourselves Men and Women of the Call of Victory! We're going to war.â
The sergeants shared a few curious glances amongst each other, before the intercom crackled again. âRight, to clarify, we're not actually going after Commander Buchan, it's a joint operation and we're going to show them up...That is all.â The intercom went dead, for good this time, and Carson rubbed his temple for a moment before chuckling humourlessly.
âWell, you all heard the man. Get everyone prepping.â Whatever his original purpose for visiting the office had been cast aside, Carson turning back out the door and heading off down the hall with an even stride. Sparrow was still for only a moment longer, before rolling her head to look back at her untouched duty roster.
âWell, looks like this will have to wait.â She snapped her fingers. âI was really looking forward to it too!â
Nathan rolled his eyes, flicking his terminal off as Mareen rose from her seat and bee-lined out the door to go muster her platoon. âSure you were, Sparrow. Sure you were.â He replied casually, patting the woman on the shoulder as he stood and headed for the door. âI wouldnât be surprised if you were waiting for some sort of excuse.â
âYeah, yeahâŠâ Waving her hand over her shoulder, Sparrow straightened from her seat with a groan, having sat idle in it far too long for her liking. How someone could handle a desk job all day was beyond her. With a happy grin, she flicked off her terminal and spun on her heel for the door, lazily shaking the sleep out of her leg as she moved. âKicking ass is so much better than paperwork!â
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This was not better than paperwork.
Sheâd been briefed, quickly, of the target her platoon was expected to take care of. An operations center, hidden in a corporate building stuffed to the gills with civilians. Her jaw was tight, worrying the inside of her lip as she flipped through the details again and again. The building needed to go; collateral damage was a non-issue. ROE was up to her. Almost complete operational freedom.
That made it difficult. Blowing up civilians didnât sit right in her gut. It wasnât right. Sheâd been halfway through a half assed battle plan when she heard footsteps approach from her right, glancing up from her omni-tool to regard Lieutenant OâRyan and Operative St. Jean. Both had already donned their full battle rattle, and she bit her lip anxiously at the fact she was still sluggishly pulling herâs on even though most everyone else was already prepped. âWhatâs up, Lieutenant?â She asked quickly as she secured her greaves to the squish-skin suit.
âIâm making an addition to your roster, Sergeant.â OâRyan replied evenly; if he noted her lack of gear he wasnât saying anything about it. She was silently thankful for that. Her nerves didnât need more to worry about. He motioned lightly to the operative behind him, and Sparrow nodded in both greeting and acknowledgement to the woman. âSt. Jean is well versed in demolitions, and given the inexperience of your platoon, sheâll do more good with you than the others.â
Saint nodded back, offering a light smile that didnât quite reach her entire face. âGot your back.â The sergeant watched the woman for a second, before looking back down at her omni-tool.
âRight, Iâll put her to good use, sir.â She murmured, already trying to rattle up a new plan to incorporate the veteranâs skill set. There was a palpable pause, and she found herself glancing back up to look at OâRyanâs face. It was a mask, as always, but she couldnât help feeling that there was something more lurking behind his stony visage. âSir..?â
Before she could continue, he turned and spoke to Saint. âOperative St. Jean, youâll be taking orders directly for Sergeant Oberacker. Iâm sure it needs no mention, but for the duration of the operation, treat her word as my own.â The operative glanced to the sergeant briefly, and then looked back to the Lieutenant.
âUnderstood.â
Seemingly satisfied, OâRyanâs eyes flicked back to the platoon lead. âFinish your preparations, Sergeant. Your platoon is already mustering.â Without waiting for a response, the Lieutenant turned and left the women to their devices, his broad back firm and immediately dissuading any further attempts to speak with him.
âYou got itâŠâ Sparrow muttered, securing the last harness for her greaves before digging into the equipment locker for her chest plate. Her eyes dully flicked over the ceramic plates, smoothing her fingers against the material before looking at the operative in her peripheries. It was almost unsettling how quiet and still the operative was, breaking it momentarily to check over her gear before her honey brown eyes glanced over to lock with Sparrowâs forest green.
âJust how inexperienced is this team going to be?â There was a detached sort of tone in her voice, but the sergeant ignored it as she tugged on her chest plate and began to engage its clamps. Whatever the source of the question, curiosity or annoyance at being paired with rookies, Sparrow didnât have the inclination to decipher, nearly mumbling her reply.
âVictory 3rd is basically a training platoon, Saint. We donât see as much action as the rest because Iâve got to teach the Greenknees how to be soldiers. Theyâre not useless, but they arenât as good as the crews youâre use to working with.â As the last clamp fastened, she turned partially to the woman, watching her with dull eyes. âIâll pair you with one of the more experienced teams, though. Iâm sure youâre not interested in deadweight slowing you down.â
The operative shrugged a single shoulder. âIâll go where you think itâs best to complete the mission and get back home,â There was a brief pause, before she added as an afterthought, âmaâam.â Tugging on her gauntlets with a grunt, Sparrow tucked her helmet under her arm as her weapons clung to the magnetic holsters on her armour.
âLetâs not bother with maâams, Saint. Outside of today, I donât even know if your rank deserves salute or a friendly grunt. Iâd prefer we just keep things simple.â The operative gave a smile, surprisingly genuine from what little sheâd seen of the woman.
âSo would I.â
Perfect. One less thing for her to worry about. The quagmire of ethics and morality she was going to be wading into neck-deep was bad enough with her platoonâs lives on the line. She seriously didnât need fancy titles making the situation more complicated. Kicking her locker shut with a flick of her foot, Sparrow sighed heavily, tapping her forehead with her free hand as she started towards the door. âLetâs go see who your team is gonna be.â
If there was a response, the redhead didnât hear it, the thick footfalls of her boots echoing as she trudged out of the armoury prep room with her new âaceâ in tow. Who would be best served by the addition of Saint to their squad? The fire teams rolled up on a list inside her head, and she immediately crossed out Robin. Birkingham would have enough on his hands dealing with his three little idiots, and the operative would only further unnerve the corporal.
Working up the list, she found herself discarding Pebbler as well, if only due to Detts inexperience with his command position. Heâd been promoted after Ontarom, but hadnât seen much action since. Saint would likely end up hijacking his command, and he needed to get the experience.
Kakariki and Eclectus wouldnât be half bad choices; both Thielst and DeGeorge were familiar with their teams and had proven reliable under pressure. Both already had an engineer-in-training though, and again the need for experience was weighing in favour of leaving them be.
Boarding the lift, Sparrow leaned back onto the small railing with a muted sigh, staring at nothing in particular as she rummaged around in her mind. Her own fire team would be focused on the fighting aspect, being the most experienced, followed closely by Swan and Owl in that regard. Her mind derailed for a brief moment at the thought of Owl and the thick, purpling bruise sheâd seen on Roger. Theyâd had a rough mission, and extremely recently. Sheâd have to give them a lighter duty on this mission, maybe an over-watch, or-
Biting her lip, the sergeant shook her head. Now wasnât the time for playing worried mother, not when she needed her best boots available. Theyâd perform fine, she assured herself, and refocused on the task at hand. This, really, was practically decided.
Amazon. The squad that had formerly belonged to Ramirez. She pushed the younger corporal from her mind, instead focusing on the present. Unlike Pebbler, Amazon hadnât had one of the rookie members promoted to fill Ramirezâs shoes, instead having a corporal of some experience transferred from a guard roster within another cell. Corporal Jane Galt, or as Sparrow sometimes referred to her as, âLady Edâ.
The two were very similar, preferring to lead by example and taking the largest risks themselves to preserve the safety of their squad. It made them ideal for the âtrainingâ nature of the platoon, and in some cases, Galtâs cautious nature made her a better fit than Edâs âCan-doâ attitude. Her team was still rather fresh, only two of the original four having survived Ontarom with a fresh Greenknee filling out the final slot. All of them were basic riflemen to boot.
âAmazon.â She announced aloud as the elevator slowed to a stop. Saint looked at her slightly curious as they disembarked in unison. âIâm going to assign you to Fire Team Amazon. Corporal Galt can put you to the most use.â She figured, anyway. She didnât mention that part though. Didnât exactly instil confidence.
The hangar bay was crowded, as it typically was whenever someone deemed it necessary to stuff all the fully armoured marines into a single area, but Sparrow brushed through the masses with only the slightest exertion and a few slight shoves with her plated shoulders. Most of the marines were waiting for their big briefing, and she found her platoon milling about much as they always did. They always had trouble standing still without someone of authority shooting them death glares.
Approaching Amazon, she splayed her hand above her head in greeting, and the Greenknees shared suspicious glances behind their helmets. They clearly didnât find the idea of the Sergeant seeking them out very appealing. Galt tilted her head back slightly, peering at the approaching women through hazel bangs and gesturing softly with her hand in greeting. The corporal didnât speak much, her pale lips set in a thin line as Sparrow slowed to a stop in front of her. âSergeant.â Her eyes flicked to Saint. âOperative.â
âHey, Galt.â Sparrow offered lightly, stooping down to be at eye level with the seated marine. Setting her helmet on the ground in front of her, the redhead watched Galt fiddle with the predator gripped loosely in her hand before motioning at the gun. âHaving some issues with it?â
âTriggerâs a little stiff, Sergeant. Nothing important, just want it back the way it was.â The corporalâs even reply got a nod from her superior, as the soldier attached the gun back to itâs magnetic clamp at her hip. The look in her dull brown eyes prompted Sparrow to speak, and she cleared her throat.
âRight, well, weâve been given the operative here,â She thumped the back of her palm against Saintâs leg armour, âfor the day, and Iâve decided to assign her to your team. Sheâs got some skills in what weâll be dealing with today, and your team isâŠlacking in that department.â It wasnât exactly praise, and she offered an apologetic smile as the privateâs shoulders slumped ever so slightly in their armour.
âOf course, Sergeant.â Galt was unphased, straightening to her feet and Sparrow mirrored the action. âSomething with tech on the agenda today?â The redhead glanced back at the operative, raising a brow at her before flicking back to Galt. âShe looks like a techie.â
âYouâre a sharp one, huh? OâRyan will flesh out the details.â The sergeant stepped back from the team, leaving Saint with a nod of her head as she filtered through the ranks as OâRyanâs voice boomed through the hangar for attention. Any who werenât already in position quickly scrambled to comply and she found her fire team in their proper location a few moments later. They nodded in greeting as she took her place at the front, and all eyes in the hangar zeroed in on OâRyan.
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There wasnât much to consider strategy wise, realistically. Their target was in the downtown core of a major city and it needed to get blown the fuck up. There was no tactical way to manoeuvre 32 fully armoured marines into a position without every goddamn head within a city block seeing them. Quiet was out of the question, which meant they were about to get very, very noisy. Theyâd been the second last to deploy, and she saw that was for a good reason now.
âHereâs the plan.â She began, eyes flicking over the team present in her Kodiak even as her voice carried through the comm unit to the others. âThereâs no easy, pretty access point to this building. Itâs public, itâs in the open, and itâs just after lunch. Our objective, as you know, is the entire building. The Oracle bastards inside it arenât the only ones. There are civilians inside as well.â She bit her lip, squeezing her eyes shut behind the visor as she continued without any trace of the concern in her voice.
âAnd I didnât sign up to turn you all into a bunch of cutthroats. Weâre going to do this the hard way. Swan, Owl and Amazon, youâll be dropping on the roof. Sparrow will be taking the front door, along with Eclectus, Kakariki, Pebbler and Robin.â She found herself pacing, a habit she didnât like that was beginning to rear its head whenever she was on the spot.
âAmazon and Kakariki, youâre to prioritize the placement of the demo charges. Use the designated locations that the AI is providing for minimal collateral damage. I want this building falling straight down, not into the streets.â Glancing at the timer in her HUD, she sucked in a breath before continuing. âEclectus, you and Pebbler are going to be my guard dogs. Anyone tries to come in the front door, chase them off.â
âAs for Owl and Swan, youâll be helping Sparrow and Robin clears the building. Iâve got one general rule, and each and everyone one of you will be holding it near and dear to your heart. Donât shoot anyone who doesnât deserve to get shot. Donât go making orphans without a damn good cause.â Her voice hitched ever so slightly at the word orphan, but she barrelled through, slamming her foot down to end her pacing. âIf they wonât leave, make them. And if you canâtâŠâ
The timer expired, and the hatch to her left began to hiss open. âWellâŠdo what you gotta do. Letâs get this done.â Without another word, the sergeant turned to the open hatch and dropped the small distance to the ground. Landing with a grunt, Sparrow un-holstered her Mattock as she stared up the street towards the target. Her HUD was already painting the dozens of civilians lining the streets in neutral colours, as the remaining fire teams poured out of their Kodiaks behind her.
Above the building, she could see the others dropping onto the roof, and the sergeant began her grim march straight up towards the building. 19 sets of boots echoed loudly behind her, and the street was beginning to swell with a collective feeling of dread as the armoured figures marched forward. They werenât Alliance. There was none of the familiar blues. People didnât want to believe that though. Nothing bad would happen to you.
Smashing that illusion was what upset her the most. Sparrow fired a trio of rounds, shattering the glass doors leading into the building and the street was no longer quiet. Shouts and screams tore at her ears as the reality descended upon awestruck colonists. Thundering feet and racing sky cars carried the crowds away, and the sergeant was thankful for that. She didnât need any extra blood today.
Stomping up the stairs two at a time, she was soon striding through the ruined entrance with her rifle squarely trained on the pair of men manning the small security booth. Neither looked like theyâd ever actually dealt with more than a vandal, let alone considered the possibility of combating an entire platoon worth of marines.
Thankful no one attempted to reach for their pistol, as Sparrow motioned with her gun for them to back the fuck away before mounting the small counter and taking over their position. âYouâre off early today. Get the fuck out.â She hissed over her external speakers, and both men needed no further prompting to get their asses clear of the building. Turning to the system behind her, she tapped a few keys, bringing up VI listing the building schematics and current population totals.
âEclectus, Pebbler, get cosy.â She barked; the fire teams in question quickly dragging all the various furniture in the lobby to rig up some proper cover. She hated corporate buildings for that reason. They were never designed to make firefights convenient. So much open space and fancy ceilings and holographic displays of fancy company logos or stocks.
Before she could continue her tangential thought process, the elevator behind her dinged. There as a split second delay as she turned to face the occupants, before the striking blue glow shot out of the parting doors and smashed itself into her chest. The air immediately left her lungs, as the sheer power of the energy slammed her backwards into, and over, the counter behind her and dumping her flat on her back on the ground with a pained cough.
It was only a few seconds later that the lobby erupted into a firefight that she couldnât see as her vision danced from the sudden impact. âSonuvabitchâŠâ She whispered, clutching her throbbing stomach for a moment as she pushed off the floor with her other hand. Gripping the counter, she hauled herself up as the brief surge in gunfire died down, whatever had been standing in the elevator having been reduced to little more than chunks. âTasty.â
âYou alright, Maâam?â She heard Lares ask worriedly, looking at the man to her right with a slight grimace. âGot your Mattock.â He held out the weapon and she took it with a light nod of appreciation. Patting her sore stomach, Sparrow started around the counter with the rest of her fire team falling in behind.
âLooks like thereâs going to be more than just civvies in hereâŠâ She mused as she stepped over the bullet pocked corpse, ignoring the dull squish of her boots in the gore staining the small elevator. Tapping her comm piece, Sparrow spoke quickly. âRoof teams, just a heads up but some of these spooks have some experience. One just tried to make me a stain on the lobby floor.â
âAlways making friends.â Feldmann replied quickly. âWeâll keep an eye out; see if we can avoid any nasty surprises from our hosts. See you in a few.â Grunting in acknowledgement, she cut the line, levelling her Mattock on the controls for the elevator and pumping a few rounds into the circuitry. Satisfied no one would be riding it to sneak up on her again; she looked to the fire teams fortifying the entranceway.
âHow we looking?â
Corporal DeGeorge looked back at her, shaking her head slightly. âLocal police is already beginning to show, Maâam.â The woman called, and Sparrow frowned beneath her visor. It must have shown in her body language, cause DeGeorge quickly added, âNot many yet, and they arenât making any attempts to come in. Probably planning to barricade us in until the real heavy lifters can come.â
âPerfect.â She snarled, tapping her comm for platoon wide as she motioned her team towards one of the doors leading to the staircase. âGet to work everyone. I want these civvies out in five minutes, and this building falling in ten.â Kakariki was already rigging the first of their demo charges to one of the designated positions before Sparrow looked slightly to the corporal in charge of Robin. âBirkingham, take your boys and these two,â She gestured to two of her own team. âAnd start sweeping the second floor. Me and Devera will take care of whateverâs down here.â
The man nodded, starting up the stairs with the marines in tow as Sparrow called after them. âAnd make sure they take the stairs!â Leaning back into the lobby, she shouted at no one in particular. âSomeone shut the lift off, ASAP.â Devera chuckled lightly at her, and the sergeant squeezed a light sigh out of tight lips. âI hate this job.â
âDidnât you just break the lift?â He asked curiously, as Sparrow stopped by the double doors leading into the minimal security offices that co-ordinated all of the security personnel for the facility.
âIâve learnt never to under-estimate a determined hostile with technical skills. Breaking it and shutting it off will at least make life much harder.â
âAnd we get to take the stairs.â He joked, standing opposite to her with his hand on the door handle. âThey donât make buildings like this very often anymore. Real doors? Pretty classy.â
âShame weâre going to level it, right?â She fired back, leaning out of the way of the door and tugging it open quickly. There was a brief silence, before she peeked around the corner and caught a glimpse of the half dozen weapons levelled on the doorway. The security office wasnât big, by any stretch, nor particularly designed to resist prolonged attack she could tell, but they obviously had a weaponâs locker inside since the weapons pointing her way were assault rifles instead of the predatorâs their lobby counterparts had been using.
Ducking back behind the door frame to avoid getting her face blown off in the salvo of fire that erupted from the guards. âWell, theyâre not going anywhere easily.â Devera commented, pulling a grenade from his hip and holding it up for her to see. âCould clear them right out.â
For a brief second, the sergeant considered it, but she knew well enough that the security teams werenât actually Oracle. No doubt hired to guard what they thought was just any old building in the downtown core, blissfully unaware of the fact that it was actually a front operation for a shady organization. Having a conscience was more trouble than it was worth. Shaking her head no, she switched her speakers to external.
âHey! Guys!â There was only silence from the room beyond, save for the shuffling of a few feet and muffled whispers she couldnât make out. âI know you can hear me in there, so hear me out, alright? Youâve got yourselves a pretty solid bottleneck here, and judging by those guns I saw you could probably make sure nothing gets through this doorway for an hour or two. Thatâs a pretty good plan.â She motioned with her fingers at Devera, and he sceptically tossed her the grenade. âOnly problem is, weâve got this.â She caught the small sphere and held it out in the doorway for a moment. âIf youâre not military, Iâll fill you in. Standard issue fragmentation grenade, typical Alliance fare, with a wounding radius of around 20 meters. If I toss this in there, what do you think itâs going to do?â
She half expected one of them to take a pot shot at her hand, but the threat of the weapon she held seemed to be making them cautious. Devera seemed utterly perplexed by this approach, but didnât voice his thoughts aside from the quizzical tilt of his head. âSo now that we have your attention, letâs make a deal. You boys probably donât work for Oracle, yeah? Youâre just honest people doing honest work for an honest dayâs pay. I can respect that and I donât want to punish you for that. So, if you put down the gunsâŠand let us come inside, weâll let you go. Simple as that. Just like everyone else in the lobby. Nobody needs to get hurt. Does that sound good?â
Someone found their voice, an older man by the sound of it. âHow can we trust you? If weâre unarmed, whatâs to stop you?â She was still, shutting her eyes for a moment before retracting the hand that held the grenade and attaching it to her belt. After a heavy breath, she tossed her Mattock around the corner into the room beyond, earning a startled yell. âThe hell are yo-â
She upholstered her predator next, throwing it inside as well before looking to Devera who was shaking his head furiously at her for the sheer stupidity of this plan. âIâm stepping out. Those are my guns.â She pushed off the wall and stepped into full view of the doorway, letting her visorâs tint vanish so the security forces could see her face, however little it showed. âSee? No guns, just my grenades.â Her hands out at her sides, she pointed briefly to the weapons attached to her hips. âNow my friend outside still has his, and the rest of my platoon is spread throughout the building, so I donât think itâs in your best interest to squeeze those triggers. Iâm out on a limb here for you guys, so how about we put those weapons down and nobody has to lose their head?â
The fuck was she thinking? The fuck was she doing right now? Her adrenaline implants were dialling up without any need for prompting, the prospect of staring down six automatic weapons alone causing her heart to hammer in her chest. If they fired, sheâd have a chance, however small. She could duck back into cover at a momentâs notice, even if theyâd land a few hits before she could. Devera could toss a grenade and thatâd be that. Itâd trash her mattock and predator, but with luck there would something in the weaponâs locker she could borrow.
She scanned their faces, all men of varying ages, but some were young. One looked like he wasnât even legally allowed to drink yet and she found herself focusing on him out of them all. This was just a job; she wanted to say, not worth getting yourself shot over. This is just a pay check. Put the gun down. She didnât want to kill a kid. She didnât want to see this whenever she tried to look at one of the privates. For a split second, she pictured Roger, stuck in a helmet slightly too big for his head and staring down the most intimidating thing heâd likely ever seen in his young life. Her face softened.
âCâmon. This ainât worth it.â
As the kid dropped the gun, she smiled. It took only a few nervous glances between the remaining guards before they cautiously began to lower their weapons to the ground, with the older man being the last to relinquish his weapon with a stoic nod. âAnd youâll keep your word?â
âOf course. Devera, escort these gentlemen to the lobby and get them on their way. Make sure the police donât mistake them for us.â Devera stepped cautiously around the corner, his weapon still in hand but lowered in compliance. Sparrow motioned with her head for them to get moving, and the guards filtered out in front of the marine as her squad mate spared a long look at his superior. âYes?â
âYou have some serious screws loose, Oberacker.â
âThatâs why they promoted me.â They said nothing more, as he moved to escort his charges out of the building, calling loudly so they wouldnât surprise the teams waiting in the lobby. As soon as he was out of her immediate vicinity, Sparrow released a long shaky breath as she stooped down to the ground to retrieve her weapons. âHooookay, Sparrow, youâre going to see Grass and get on some meds after this, you crazy bitch.â She stammered to herself jokingly as she attached the weapons back to their appropriate places and took stock of the room.
There wasnât anything overly special about it, just a fairly standard security office that was perhaps slightly shinier than most sheâd seen? Not really something to tip one off to the secret funding and shadowy sorts that had created the structure, or at least repurposed it. Scanning the work stations, nothing leapt to her as inherently out of place.
Stepping backwards out of the room, she spoke across the platoon channel. âStatus. How we doing people?â
âSwan. In good shape, clearing the last few rooms on the top floor with Owl.â She nodded, meeting Devera at the foot of the stairs and starting up towards the second floor.
âAmazon. Third floor is almost rigged completely. Placing the last few charges.â
âEclectus. No attempted entries so far and civilians are being received safely. Police encirclement is tightening though, and weâve got a few Kodiaks dropping off boys in blue with body armour a little thick to be LEOs.â
Sparrow stopped on the stairs at a group of civilians descending with their hands raised partially above their heads, standing aside so they might pass. Every single one kept their eyes locked on her as they shuffled by, the fear almost palpable as they quickened their strides to carry them to safety. âRobin. Weâve aâŠslight issue, maâam.â The sergeant grimaced.
âTalk to me.â
âMost of the second floor has been clearedâŠâ
âBut?â
ââŠbut weâve run into some resistance. Not a hostile, I donât think, but one of the civilians isnât complying. Heâs staying in his office, and I canât get him to come out.â Pulling the door open as she reached the floor, she ushered an approaching civilian into the door with a sharp jerk of the head, before focusing on her HUD to locate the corporal.
âWhy not drag him out?â
There was a long pause, before the man sighed. âIâm worried, Maâam. Anytime Iâve stepped into the room, heâs got his hands beneath his desk, in the drawers or something. If heâs got something in there, at close rangeâŠâ
âOur shields wonât count for much. I get ya.â Following the readout on her HUD, she waved Devera off to assist the others in clearing the floor before rounding the corner to find Corporal Birkingham shuffling nervously in front of the door to one of the corner offices. He noticed her approach and hurried over to meet her halfway. The man was always a bundle of nerves. âIâll take it from here. Go keep your boys from throwing each other out a window or something.â
âThey probably wouldâŠâ He bemoaned, nodding in compliance and hurrying to check on his fire team. She watched his retreating back for a moment before continuing down the hall and pausing outside the sleek glass wall that separated the room from the more typical workspaces scattered throughout the level. The man sat behind his desk, fingers laced in front of his bowed head and she could see the sweat beads dripping down his forehead and staining the collar of his suit.
Readying her predator, she pulled the door open quietly and stepped into the room with her eyes locked on the man, who flicked his head up to meet her gaze, looking like a cornered animal staring down the hungry predator. âYo.â The pistol remained at her side, but the man was painfully aware of itâs presence by the way his widening eyes kept darting to it. âI hear youâre not going to leave. Whyâs that?â
âThereâs no reason to.â There was a conviction to his voice, but it shook under her faceless gaze. âYou donât want to hurt us? Then why should I leave?â
âDecent idea. Minus the fact that Iâm going to blow this place up.â He stiffened in his seat. âYeah. You probably shouldnât be here for that. Câmon, letâs get you out.â The sergeant took a step forward, and the manâs hands darted beneath the desk quickly. She froze, pistol raising slightly at her side but stopping after a few inches when he made no further movements. âTake it easy.â
âWhy are you doing this?â
âCanât say. Now why donât you stand up and take your hands out from under the desk, alright?â
âYou canât just come in here and make demands! Waving your guns around and shooting innocent people!â His voice was rising in pitch, and Sparrow swallowed the lump forming in her throat as his eyes burned accusingly on her visor. âWhat gives you the right?!â
âRelax! No one innocent has died today! No one innocent WILL die today! The building is all weâre after! Now back away from the desk!â Her voice rose, despite her attempt to keep it even to calm the man, and he seemed even more spurred by the escalation.
âWhy the hell should I listen to some piece of shit terrorist?!â He roared, slamming one hand the desk as he rose sharply from his seat. She could see the muscle tension through his shoulders and arms, her breath hitching as the obscured arm began to emerge with tightened knuckles aroundâŠsomething. Rationality lost its place. A lifetime of close calls and near-death experiences overwhelmed thought and her arms straightened the pistol into a ready position. The world had the speed suddenly sucked from it, as implants roared to life at the perceived threat.
There was no time for protest, finger tightening on the trigger and the round punching clean through the soft tissue of the breast.
The second round tore over the shoulder, shattering the glass off the corner office and tossing the man off balance.
The third ripped through the soft tissue of the throat, which sent the figure toppling backwards through the still fragmenting window.
Her footsteps thundered to the edge as the air filled with panicked gasps and screams, stepping to the lip long enough to see the body crumple into the concrete, splattering blood and grey matter across the street and nearby police vehicles. Sparrow stared silently out the window, feeling the heads turn upwards towards her with accusing horror. Her body didnât feel anything, hands still tight on the gun by her side.
The implants deactivated, colour returning to the world as she became aware of her own ragged breathing. Idly, her brain recognized the danger of exposure with the sheer number of LEOs below but she was sluggish. Stumbling backwards from the shattered window, her hip hit the desk, and she let herself lean against it as her eyes flicked down to the smooth title of the office floor. She trailed the small splatters of blood, before catching the glint of something metal.
The sergeant stooped down, brushing armoured fingers over the reddened surface of the broad faced, platinum watch; feeling the soft cracks in the casing from its sudden fall. Picking it up with an almost reverent care, it ticked dully in her ears as the old-style device sat plainly upon her palm.
There were footsteps by the door, but she didnât look until she heard a voice calling to her. Forest green eyes flicked over to see Pinnick watching cautiously from the doorway, unquestioning but it was obvious she had an idea of what had transpired. âWhat is it?â
âWeâve got something youâre going to want to see, Maâam.â She nodded dully, lowering her hand and tucking the watch away soundlessly. âMaâam?â
âYeah. Show me.â
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Pinnick lead the way, guiding her past the last few civilians exiting from the top floor and into the executive offices that made up the bulk of the top floors space. The offices were all deserted now, and save for the few still bodies of what she assumed were Oracle agents; there was little sign of any struggle. Pinnick motioned her into one of the rooms, and she entered to find it occupied by Amazon and Private Fischer from Fire Team Owl. He was working quietly on his omni-tool, a small blue haptic interface illuminating the wall behind him curiously.
Saint was tapping away on the soft blue of its keyboard just behind the large figure, clearly focused on whatever it was the two were working on. Sparrow glanced to her right, spotting a bloodied man kneeling in the corner with one of the privates standing watch over him. His face was bowed, but it wasnât hard to sense to sheer anger radiating from his hunched form. âIâm assuming heâs not a civilian?â She asked, tone lacking its usual joviality but no one seemed to notice.
âOracle agent, or so we have to assume. We caught him in the middle of wiping a data-mine, so we got Saint and Fischer to take a stab at digging out whateverâs on there.â Corporal Galt replied evenly, seemingly at ease with the current situation. âAll the charges up here have been set as well.â
âGood work.â The sergeant looked to the engineer duo. âIâm assuming thereâs a reason we have him alive then?â
Galt nodded in the corner of her vision. âMhm. Saint said there was a chance it could be encrypted to Oracle agents by a retinal scanner or the like.â Saint glanced up with a nod at the mention of her name.
âOr perhaps other code encryption. Thatâs why heâs not dead and missing body parts.â That might have been a joke from a majority of the marines she knew, but the deadpan Saint wore as she spoke made the sergeant glance back at the man just to make sure he still had everything attached.
âRight. Have either of you had any trouble then? Encryptions or otherwise?â
âA couple bio feedback killers, but we quashed those. I'm sure there's another layer, but we haven't come across it yet." Saint didnât bother looking up from her work this time, and Sparrow turned her attention more to the captured man. Not like she actually understood most of the techno-gibberish that engineers were so fond of.
âAnything of value?â
âJunk data, largely.â Logan answered, lowering his omni-tool slightly as he watched the sergeant for a moment. He seemed aware that something was unsettling her, but if he was, the engineer didnât mention it. âHe managed to scrub most of the information about their work here. So far, everything else has been observation notes about a few local figures of importance and agents within the building.â Saint gave another nod, still intently focused on her work.
Sparrow occupied herself by examining the silent captive for a few moments, before there was a light yip of satisfaction from behind her and she met with Tiaâs gaze. âWell now. Look at that. A bolt hole.â There was a brief pause before she clarified. âIt looks like thereâs an escape route.â
âCan these guys get anymore clichĂ©?â The sergeant muttered, watching contently as the data was uploaded to Saintâs omni-tool, and then quickly linked to her own. Glancing at the schematics for a few brief moments, she frowned. âThe security office? I knew there was something off about itâŠâ Dismissing the display with a sigh, she looked back to the engineers. âFischer, get back to your team, I think this mine is tapped.â He nodded and stepped out the door quickly. âWeâre pretty much doneâŠonce Kakariki has the last charges set, weâre leaving. Which leaves us with youâŠâ
The roomâs attention came to focus fully on the Oracle agent, who still made no attempt to look at the surrounding marines. Before she could think properly on the manâs fate, her comm line barked sharply in her ear. âMaâam! Maâam! We gotta go! We gotta go!â The normally calm DeGeorge was practically yelling straight in her ear, and as she opened her mouth to ask what had gotten the corporal so riled up, the answer came in the form of the thunderous M35 155 mm shell. The building practically shook from the impact, and the marines immediately looked between each other frantically. âTheyâre deploying a fucking tank to cover the infantryâs movement! The Alliance is not fucking happy with us!â
âI got that, Corporal. Keep the doors secure as long as you can, weâve got a new escape plan.â Galt looked to her curiously, but the sergeant was already switching to the platoon wide. âVictory 3rd! Times up! Everyone get your asses to the ground floor! Weâre going to make use of an Oracle escape route to get out of this shit-hole. Move!â
There was no chorus of affirmatives, just the silence of understanding that spoke of the gravity of their situation. âSergeant?â Galt asked questioningly, earning a sharp look from her superior.
âI want your team into that hole first. Get as far down it as fast as possible and tell me what the hell is waiting on the other side.â She stepped out the room, pointing a finger at her own team. âOnce weâre on the ground floor, weâre taking over for Pebbler and Eclectus. Weâre the last ones out. Any objections, feel free to climb into the hole with the others.â There were no complaints, and she spared a glance back at the room, seeing the Oracle agentâs feet just beyond the door frame. âWe donât have time for him now.â
The teams began to move, Sparrow watching for a few moments before a subtle crack of a pistol broke over the battle beginning below their feet. Turning sharply, the forest green of her eyes narrowed sharply as the Oracle agent slumped over as Saint exited the room calmly with her sidearm drawn. Before the engineer could move past, the sergeant gripped her arm sharply, glaring coldly down at the shorter woman. âThe fuck is wrong with you?!â
She was in the process of holstering the weapon when Sparrow caught the limb by the bicep, digging into it harshly and making her flinch. Saintâs eyes watched her visor curiously, as if she was the one behaving oddly. âYou said we didnât have time for him. Heâs the enemy.â
âWe donât just execute people! Weâre not some terrorist fuckshow that offs everything in its way! YouâŠyouâŠâ She gripped her head, an echoing ring of shattering glass pounding in her head with every heavy beat of her heart. âGod-dammit, go! Get the fuck moving, now!â She practically threw the limb forward, not even looking at the operative as she sucked in air angrily to calm her nerves.
âSergeant?â Devera stepped up cautiously, placing a hand on her shoulder and nearly taking a fist to the stomach as she whipped around sharply to stare into his visor. âYou alright?â
âI donât frankly know. Letâs move.â
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The lobby was in chaos as she descended; thick clouds of dust and shattering ceramic filling the air and choking her filters. The HUD painted the friendly units in the lobby, and she immediately raised her Mattock to pour fire on the encroaching Alliance troops. The marines turned to put fire on her, but she wasted little time sprinting across the gap between the exit of the stairs and the security desk, sliding over the counter and dropping into cover from the counter attack. âStatus! NOW!â
âAmazon. Weâre in the tunnel, moving as fast as we can. Itâs cramped as hell, can only move single file.â
âFucking perfect! Eclectus, Pebbler! Fall back to the security office!â
âMaâam!â The corporals chorused, immediately rising from the battered barricades theyâd crafted to lay suppressing fire with the sergeantâs fire team as the privates rose and sprinted to the âsafetyâ of their chosen escape route.
âRobin is inside, Owl is entering now.â Corporal Stevenson spoke calmly, but she wasted no breath on a reply as another 155mm shell sailed through the lobby and blasted a hole in the back wall; showering her position with chunks of crumbling ceramic and concrete. Ignoring the thick coating of dust, she rose to fire on the fresh wave of marines storming through the battered entrance.
Lares slid over the counter beside her, but popped back up immediately to trade shots with his avenger. âEclectusâs boys are in. DeGeorge, fall back!â He shouted to the lone corporal, who nodded in compliance and started a slow steady retreat while laying covering fire.
âPebbler! Youâre up next! Go, go, go!â Sparrow demanded, watching two of the figures fall back quickly while the third hovered by the fourth. âThe fuck are you doing! Move, Detts!â
âCopy that, Maâam. Give them hell, Mar.â The Corporal fell away, leaving the one last silhouette on the barricade, propped up against it with a rifle in hand. The sergeant rose to climb over, but the swirling dust cleared for a moment and she caught sight of the bloodied stump where the privateâs leg should have been. The soldier, the display told her it was Brooke Mar, flashed a vigorous thumbs up, and Sparrow could only stare before forcing herself to throw one back to the young girl.
The Alliance marines seemed aware of the abandoned cover, quickly moving through the swirls of dust to utilize it for themselves, only to quickly find themselves staring down an avenger in a very open area. The private fired widely into the group, accuracy understandably shit with her injuries, but when the enemy was bunched, it wasnât necessary. Sparrow suppressed on the opposite flank, motioning sharply with her finger for Devera to take Eclectusâs abandoned cover as another tank round blew another sizeable hole in the building. âTheyâre gonna bring it down on us at this rate!â
âShould have saved the bombs!â Mar replied groggily, tossing her avenger aside and drawing her predator up to pump a few rounds at the marines trying to clip the barely visible soldier. âTheyâll bring it down for us!â The team shared a look, hearing the fear that was lurking underneath her voice, but no one made mention.
âThatâs awfully kind of them, isnât it?â Pinnick replied, still positioned within the stairwell as she pumped a few rounds from her Mattock.
âVery kind. I mightâŠâ The private trailed off, sliding down into the mangled barricade as the pistol clattered to the ground. ââŠjust have to pay them back.â The words were laboured, as she tugged at her belt and pulled it closer to her head. âOne good turnâŠâ
Marâs voice hitched, sounding more like a pained sob than any attempt to speak. Sparrow straightened out of cover, firing with a furious roar at the marines rushing towards the private. âYouâve done enough, Brooke.â Her heat-sink hissed in overheat, and the Alliance team swarmed the battered barricade. The helmet turned towards her, before the belt came alive. There was only a split second as the first marine peered over the ledge to see the belt tight against their cover. The sergeant raised a hand in salute.
Brookeâs smile carried in her words. âThanks.â The lobby shook as the grenades detonated in unison, blowing the barricade to chunks and shredding the marines in a hail of shrapnel. Lares pulled Sparrow down to avoid the brunt of the blast, and she sat quietly beneath the counter for several moments.
âStatus?â She spoke softly, and Feldmann replied just as lightly.
âWeâre all in. Come on.â Pulling up her omni-tool, she looked down at the master control sheâd been granted for the explosives. Her hand lingered above the switch, before swallowing sharply. Pressing the switch, a countdown quickly appeared in her HUD, and her team likely saw it too.
âLetâs get going.â Hopping the counter, she fired a few staccato bursts as Lares and Pinnick moved into the hallway leading to the security office. Devera fell back slowly, laying down suppressing with his avenger. There was a furious rev of the engine, and Sparrow looked sharply to the doorway as the Mako barrelled up the steps, apparently done with patiently shelling them and intending to bring itself to the forefront. âMove!â
Lares dropped into the hatch first, sliding down the ladder as fast as the bulk of his armour would allow. Pinnick was practically stomping on him as she began to climb inside, trying to make space for Devera and Sparrow as the Mako rolled to a stop at the end of the hallway. The cannon swivelled as the pair rushed through the doorway, Devera swinging around to slam it shut just as the echoing boom of the cannon crashed against their ears.
The door splintered apart, and the next thing she knew, Sparrow was sprawled on the ground beside the escape hatch with her head ringing furiously in her ears and Pinnick yelling up the chute at her. âSparrow! Get inside!â
She rolled over, pushing herself forward for a second before feeling the soft wet squish beneath her gloves and her eyes noticed the faint mist of red dancing in the air in front of her eyes. The countdown timer blinked in warning, but she glanced about the room slowly. The red was everywhere. She could feel bits of moisture escaping her dust clogged filters, but as she took one final stock, Pinnick screamed up at her. âGet inside and shut the fucking hatch!â
The sergeant nodded to nothing, fumbling down into the hatch and pulling the top shut. She descended a few rungs before the world began to shake and the sound of collapsing steel and rending metal filled the air. The intensity, so close by shook her violently and she lost her grip on the ladder, skidding down several rungs before catching one around her elbow. Staring dully down the shaft of barely lit darkness, she saw Pinnickâs visor staring up though black with the lights on opposite sides of her head.
Neither said anything until the sergeant had disentangled herself from the ladder and finished her descent. At the bottom, Sparrow sat for a long moment, just breathing while Pinnick watched quietly. Lares stood alone further down the hall, the occasional nodding of his head indicating he was likely speaking with the platoon. âSparrow?â Pinnick broke the silence as she knelt in front of the SO, placing a hand lightly on her shoulder. âIâmâŠIâŠâ
âWhat are you on abouâŠwhere the hell is Dever-â Her eyes widened, immediately raising her arm up towards her visor and into the light from the helmet. The sickly red liquid clung to the back of her hand and arm, sharpening her breath into painful gasps. Her stomach churned in a fit of tumbling emotions, slamming the hand roughly against the wall as her heartbeat began to hammer in her ears. Hand coiling into a fist, she slammed it on the wall, forcing herself to release a long rolling breath as she forced the anger to the forefront of the emotional blur.
âSparrow?â Pinnick asked cautiously, stepping back as the sergeant rose to her feet.
âLetâs get moving.â She intoned; voice even and firm, but beneath the control her blood burned, molten and scorching her veins. The marine stared back for a moment, eventually nodding and hurrying after Lares who waved them forward before moving further into the cramped passage way. Sparrowâs steps were heavy, never leaving their backs as her shoulders chafed on the constricting walls of their escape route. âOverwatch, this is Sergeant Oberacker, do you copy?â She asked into the static filled communication channel, but there was no reply through the white noise. âGreatâŠprobably too deep.â
Glancing to the low ceiling above her head, she shook her head before quickening her pace to catch up to her remaining fire team. They travelled in silence for a few minutes, before reaching the slightly wider chamber housing the ladder up to the surface. âInconspicuous, huh?â Lares muttered, slinging his rifle and starting up the ladder.
âMaybe itâll come out in a phone booth.â Pinnick offered, gaze lingering on their silent leader for a second before following her comrade up the ladder. Sparrow reached up once she was a good ways up it, glancing back down the hallway.
âFeldmann, how are things up there?â There was less static as she began to climb, and eventually the Corporalâs voice became clear.
âWeâre going to need to hit the ground running.â He replied, sounding slightly out of breath and more irritated by the second. âThe streets are far too abandoned for this time of day, and Iâve seen Kodiaks ducking behind buildings nearby. Theyâre going to swarm us.â
âCause thatâs what we need.â
âWhat we need is an extraction point.â
âIâm working on it.â She shot back, hauling herself out of the hatch into a dimly lit room, unfurnished and looking like it hadnât seen something alive in a few months. Light poured in from a small staircase to her right, and she took it two at a time to emerge into an alley of little description. The majority of the platoon was scattered throughout the space, watching cautiously for any approaching hostiles. It wouldnât hide this many marines for long.
With that in mind, she tried again. âOverwatch, this is Sergeant Oberacker, do you copy?â There was a beat of silence, and she was about to speak again when Invaruâs voice sounded in her ear, neutral and professional as always.
âThis is Overwatch, update.â
Silently breathing thanks, Sparrow looked out the alleyway towards the streets beyond. âWeâve destroyed the target, but the Alliance had encircled the building. An Oracle escape route provided an out, but the primary extraction isnât going to work. Requesting an updated extraction point.â
"One moment." The Operativeâs voice was completely calm, almost to the point that it had the opposite effect on her own nerves. There was a light thrum beginning to fill the air, but she shook her head as Invaru continued. "There is a lot that has been cleared for construction a few blocks away, past an open market and more corporate buildings. Alley ways and the bazaar should provide limited cover from Alliance armour and air. Note, we are sending Kodiaks to await you but will remain a few clicks away from the evac point until you reach it so as to limit fire from Alliance forces. How copy?"
âSolid copy, Overwatch.â The new evac point blinked up on her HUD, syncing with the platoonâs displays and painting the point for them. She motioned in the direction as she readied her mattock. âOverwatch, Iâm-â The thrum grew into the roar of an engine, and Sparrowâs eyes snapped wide at the familiarity of the sound. âGunship! Move!â
An A-91 swept in low over the alleyway, turret on the underside of its nose spraying the narrow space indiscriminately. Several rounds glanced off her shields, but she instinctively shielded her face for a moment before forcing herself forward several steps. The gunship swept high through the buildings, likely to bank around for a proper strike. âGet going now! Fuck formation, just go! Stick to cover!â
No one needed additional prompting, and the platoon barrelled out of the alleyway in a stampede as the air began to fill with that heavy thrum once more. In her ear, she heard Invaru, still unflappably calm, âGround team, status?â and she bit her lip as she thundered out of the alleyway after her soldiers.
âAlliance A-91, Overwatch!â She made sure to avoid yelling it to her superior, even if everything in her right now was saying yelling was the best possible thing, preferably accompanied by swears. Numerous Kodiak shuttles swept overhead, bay doors opening and the occupants peppering fire on the marines. âAnd now the marines are swooping in!â
âCan you hold?â
It only took her a brief second to consider a response; sliding roughly on a leg behind an idle sky car as the gunship loomed back out of the skyline with its sights firmly set on her pitiful little block of metal. âThis isnât even mine, dude!â The gunship cared little for whoever the unfortunate bastard who owned the car was; firing a salvo from its machine gun as it began to sweep along the street. They lacked any heavy munitions, and she wasnât the type to try and bring down a gunship with only determination and an assault rifle. âNegative on that. Weâre not even going to try. Weâre moving to the evac point now.â
There was a rumbling down the road from whence theyâd come, and it was only with dread that Sparrow turned her head from the gunship to find exactly what she feared looming further down the street. âAnother goddamn Mako?! We already crushed one!â
There was a long pause on the comm, but there wasnât time to question what had gotten a hold of the Operativeâs tongue. âAlleyway! Keep moving!â The marines looked at her in surprise, what with the gunship still laying down suppressing fire on their meagre cover, but they listened, vaulting their cover and swerving into the first alleyway available to them.
It was a point of pride that they maintained proper tactics, fire teams leapfrogging in tandem while others diverted the attention of their attackers by trading a few shots with the Kodiaks and gunship. It wasnât the quickest thing though, and the Mako wasnât slowing down, so she stepped out from behind her thoroughly mangled cover. âSup asshole?!â The Mattock barked a few shots, and the turret swivelled towards the sergeant with lethal intention. âJust swimming in good decisions today, huh, Sparrow?â
Diving to the side, the 155mm round raced past with a hissing wail; detonating a few feet behind her and tossing her several more feet ass over head and covering her armour in even more dust. Clawing forward, she scrambled for the alleyway as the coaxial LMG peppered the street around her. âFuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-â Another shell raced past, deafening her ears with the proximity as she swerved sharply into the alleyway.
"Continue with the route provided, I will re-route resources towards you. Overwatch out." Invaru spoke softly, but that was likely just the fact that her ears were still ringing. The platoon was mostly at the other end, and her stride quickly ate the ground between them as the first team stepped into the street beyond. No sooner than the first one was exposed, the air filled with gunfire and thick plumes of shattering concrete erupted around their feet. One of the marines barely had time to react, dozens of rounds shredding their armour as the others in the team dived backwards to avoid the burst.
No sooner had the body hit the ground did the Gunship bank in low at the end of the alleyway, floodlights blinding the immediate marines as itâs gun readied another burst. Sparrow pressed herself behind a dumpster, as the teams scrambled for makeshift cover, but the roaring engine rising over the gunfire told her theyâd soon be pincered between two vehicles they lacked the means to defeat. âEngineers! Burn it!â
There was a shared pause, before each of the engineers leaned out from their hiding places and fired off an incinerate blast. Positioned as it was, it couldnât react quickly to the attack, and took the majority of the blasts straight on. Typically designed for anti-infantry, an incinerate blast wasnât going to bring down a gunship, but as the canopy went up in a blaze, the pilot wasnât going to be shooting straight.
The A-91 banked out of their way, in the nick of time as the Mako rolled to a stop at the opposite end and brought its cannon to bear. The first blast clipped one of the buildings, showering the marines in debris but obscuring the alleyway somewhat. There was no need to prompt them, all the teams already dashing out into the street beyond as the Mako carved the alley apart with its machine gun. Sparrow flicked her eyes to the HUD, noting the distance to the evac point and wondering where the hell those âresourcesâ were.
Sliding across the hood of another sky car, she traded shots with a circling pair of Kodiaks, winging the shields of the occupants but never managing to do more than that. One of the shuttles banked low, catching another team off guard and shattering the visor of one of the marines who crumpled backwards. One of the nearby marines flung a grenade into the open cabin, which detonated with a satisfying boom that sent the shuttle corkscrewing for a moment, before it righted itself and swept off into the sky, doors closing on the likely shredded occupants.
They swept through another alleyway to dodge the Mako as it weaved onto the street, and the market came into view just up the road. âTriple time it! Into the market!â She barked, turning the platoonâs attention forward. Some of the privates lagged slightly, the weight of their armour and frantic pace no doubt exhausting them but they didnât fall completely behind. As the first teams burst into the abandoned market, Sparrow skidded to a stop at the entrance way and waved them forward. âCome on, come on!â
The A-91 swept in through the skyline, like a bird of prey as its missile pods opened and primed their payloads. The sergeant looked to the sky, gritting her teeth and urging the privates to run faster. After a moment, the missiles fired, and the street erupted into plumes of fire as the warheads detonated. She almost ran into the strike herself, but Lares caught her shoulder and pulled her back into the relative safety of the small, roofed hall leading into the market.
As soon as the blasts subsided, she pushed past the man off, darting out into the street and catching glimpse of what was left of those who hadnât made it inside. She stared blankly for a long moment, unwilling to pull her eyes away from the mangled chunks that were supposed to have been her soldiers.
Before she could turn back, one of the bodies moved, and Sparrow quickly crossed the distance to find a lone private pinned underneath another, likely having shielded them from the worst of the blast. A jagged shard of metal jutted out of a large scar in the assault amour, but she knew better than to pull it out. Itâd block the bleeding somewhat. âLares! Give me a hand!â
The specialist complied instantly, moving to the injured manâs side and helping her haul him up to his feet whilst slinging his arm over his shoulder. âWeâre going to have to carry him to the evac point, Sparrow.â He cautioned over a private channel, not opposing the idea, simply feeling it needed to be said.
âIâll haul him myself if I need to.â They entered the market proper, and she frowned when she noticed the majority of the platoon hunkered down near the opposite entrance. âThe hell are we waiting for?!â
Pinnick, positioned on one of the entering tunnels, looked to her sharply. âThey dropped marines on the far side! The tunnels are a funnel, Maâam!â As if to prove her point, a barrage of gunfire sliced the tunnel apart, as if a warning shot. âWeâre not getting out this way without some heavy causalities!â
âThen fuck, weâll go back around!â
âDown!â Lares shoved roughly on the private, dumping the soldier in Sparrowâs arms as he shoved the three of them clear of the tunnel theyâd just entered. He spun around on his knee, dropping an Alliance marine that had scouted ahead, before bouncing a grenade expertly off the wall and further into the passage, which was met by shouts. It detonated a few seconds later, but it seemed it had done little more than clear the entryway. âTheyâre blocking this way too.â He muttered grimly, as Eclectus, Pebbler and Robin switched over from the opposite position to help lock it down.
Sparrow, still clutching the injured marine, looked quickly around the market, eyes searching for another way out but finding nothing. After a moment, she swallowed heavily. âEveryoneâŠlock it down and dig in your heels. Salazar, get over here, Iâve got injured.â She hauled the man several feet to the small administrative building that sat in the center of the market, smashing the window with a quick shot and dragging him inside. The medic joined her moments later, and Sparrow relinquished the injured man before climbing up to the second floor.
It wasnât a tall structure, only just rising above the enclosing âringâ of shops that had become the walls of their little fortress prison. The second floor was ideal for watching the market below, numerous bay windows that afforded an optimal view of all goings on while obscuring the occupant behind slightly tinted glass. It provided the vantage she needed to manage their perimeter properly.
First things first. âAmazon; break off and search the shops. Barricade any entrances you find, and radio back if you get hit with too heavy a breach. Kakariki, Robin; Rip down these stalls, throw up some makeshift barricades. Everyone, keep a close eye on your heat sinks. Manage them and make every shot count. I doubt weâre just going to find a box lying around.â Her initial instructions delivered, the sergeant switched the channel and took a calming breath before speaking.
âOverwatch, this is Sergeant Oberacker. Secondary evac point is a no go; the Alliance has encircled us in the market. We have multiple wounded and we need extraction, how copy?â
âGood copy, standby.â
Standby? Standby. She wanted them to standby?! Sparrow resisted the urge to scream something, moving close to the windows to see below her when she heard the blaring hum of engines. A shower of rounds pelted the marines entrenching themselves in the market, and as it banked around, she saw the flame scarred canopy of that damn gunship once more. âYou donât know when to fucking quit, do you?!â
âMan down!â Feldmann barked, and she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. The bitter-sweet taste of iron filled her senses, and Sparrow slammed a fist against the window futility. There were too many avenues of attack here. Sure they had choke points, but they didnât have the ammunition, or the manpower or the equipment to hold off everything the Alliance could bring to bear. How long until they brought in mortars? Or breached the buildings to allow armour to enter?
âPollard!â She barked, hearing a slightly startled noise from the private in question. âGet up here; I have a job for your eyes.â She saw him pull away from his position, questioningly glancing up at the windows that hid her from view but obeying. The sergeant turned back towards the stairs, greeting him with a sharp wave even as the gunship did another strafe past, thankfully not claiming anymore of her marines.
âWhat do you need, Maâam?â
She motioned to the gunship that was winding up for another pass. âI need you to keep your eyes on that gunship as much as possible, and whenever itâs about to make a pass, you warn everyone on the platoon wide. If we can keep our heads down, it shouldnât do much more damage. Got it?â
He nodded sharply, stepping past her to keep tabs on the gunship as it readied its avenue of approach. She opened her mouth to speak, but Operative Invaru spoke, and the colour began to drain from her face. âGround team this is Overwatch. We are attempting to send you reinforcements, but as of the moment you are on your own. If you can get to a secure location, the Kodiaks are still on standby just outside the city limits.â
Sparrow was still; body slackening as she blinked repeatedly; mouth working around half formed words before finally spitting incredulously. âOn our own?! Iâve got an army worth of marines and hardware shooting at us, and we should try and get to a secure location?! This is as secure as it gets right now! I need something, anything, right the hell NOW!â
"Sergeant...The closest available unit I have is the Commander and his team, who are not outfitted with enough heavy ordnance to take on the Alliance Army. If they were to jump down, it would be the Commander at risk. Aside from that, all other marine teams are positioned around the system and assigned to their duties; the Kodiaks are already waiting for you. The only other option would be to use the MAC cannon from the Cruiser..."
There was a long pause, and Sparrow looked down quietly to the floor as her hand tightened around the grip of her gun. Outside the glass, the battle waged, marines trading fire as best they could as the Alliance continued to push and try to break the defensive line. She wanted to yell, swear, curse and rant. She wanted to sit down and just wait. Watching the private moving frantically in the corner of her eye, Sparrow found the clarity, however brief, to speak.
ââŠNo, Maâam. That isnât an option. I apologize for my outburst.â She glanced to her rifle, dangling loose in her grip. âThank you for trying, Maâam. Iâll see what I can do. Sergeant Oberacker out.â The line went dead, and she stood still in the room as the combat raged. Nothing was coming. This was it.
âComing for a pass, down!â Roger shouted as the Gunship swept past, hurrying across the room when he noticed the stillness possessing her. The private glanced about for a moment, before crossing a few steps towards her, calling softly. ââŠSergeant?â She twitched at his voice, looking to him quickly. âIsâŠeverything alright, maâam?â
They simply stared at each other, as if the visors werenât there, as if she was just looking right at his eyes. Werenât they jade? A bright jade, always had a shine to them, even when he seemed upset. In the faint reflection of her helmet, she could see her own, and they looked dull. Accepting. âYeah.â She breathed, lying through her teeth and forcing a fake smile that he couldnât see but it assured him all the same. âFocus on that gunship, Roger.â
The young man tilted his head at the use of his name, but quickly fell back to his task as Sparrow looked out through the glass. Howling screams echoed in the sky, signalling mortars that soon smashed into the market; throwing fire and steel through the air. Shapes began to stir over the buildings, and she raised her rifle as the first drone began to rise above the rooftop. âKeep calm.â She spoke softly, but he heard her all the same, pausing mid-stride to look at her before she opened fire.
Adrenaline implants kicking into full gear, Sparrow could watch in perfectly clarity as her round sent cracks arcing and weaving from the impact into a chaotic spiderâs web. As she fired the second, the window splintered, shards of glass refracting the light and shining as they fell. Her third would fire as the first found its mark in the rising machine, followed closely by its successors and making the poorly armoured drone drop back from whence it had come.
It was only one, though, and the rest of wing rose unphased by the destruction of the first. Her eyes swept the assorted barrels as she fired more rounds into the formation, and was both frustrated and relieved to find nothing but the standard assault build. As a second drone corkscrewed into the roof from itâs damage, the wing split into smaller groups, sweeping out and down into the market as she stepped to the edge to continue firing. âDrones!â She boomed loudly, and several marines reacted to the invading presence.
The drones weaved through the remaining stalls with surprising grace, firing staccato bursts to hinder the marineâs shields but finding little in the way of physical damage to the actual armour of their prey. She looked up to the roofs again as more wings began to appear, knowing full well the danger of drones lay in their numbers, not their ability.
One of the wings set its sights squarely on her, exposed as she was in the broken window and fired a synchronized burst. Her shields flared and failed, but she barely reacted, trading shot for shot as the barrage shattered against her assault armour. Her shoulder jerked roughly as the ceramic plating guarding her left pectoral shattered, and she was in the process of righting her weapon to fire again when a hand roughly gripped her shoulder and pulled her back from the lip several steps.
Two of the surviving drones swept in to finish their work, but met their ends at the quick shots that pierced the âheadâ of the machines. Roger released a breath as he holstered his Predator, letting go of her shoulder when she gave a sharp tug on the limb in question. The mangled plate immediately caught his gaze, but to his credit the private didnât point it out. âBe more careful, Maâam.â He spoke quietly, unsure of himself in âchastisingâ a superior.
âWhy-â The words died in her mouth as a deafening blast filled the marketplace, and their heads snapped in unison to the crumbling walls that marked the blast-site. She moved forward to âseeâ the damage, but it was for little more than her own personal confirmation. The drones were keeping the marines occupied, and now a new, large doorway had been made straight into the heart of their defence. She couldnât summon the will to curse.
Roger hovered behind her, clutching his Viper tightly as his eyes flicked to her still back. âWhat should we do, Maâam?â She gave no response, watching as teams moved from the other points towards the new gap, firing into the hole without needing any further prompting. âMaâam?â
She could see how this was going to go. It didnât take a master of strategy. The Alliance would continue breaching, creating new entrances and spreading them thin while drones thinned out their ammo count. There was no hope of breaching the encirclement at this point, and there was no help coming. Eventually, a point would break. And then it would be over.
How do you keep fighting when itâs only to prolong the inevitable? God, she just wanted to sit down and wait for the bastards to rush in. Was that too much? Her muscles ached and she felt every beat of her heart crisp and painful in her chest. She loved to fight, but nowâŠit felt so pointless. She couldnât save the platoon. She didnât have the resources. The knowledge. The drive.
âSparrow?â
Opening her mouth to speak, Sparrow looked to Roger. She froze mid-turn; her heart leaping into her throat and choking any words that intended to come. The damning hum of the gunship filled the blackening sky, as it swept down into view with its barrel aimed at their exposed bodies. They had no cover. It would hit him first.
The drive wasnât so hard to find, it seemed. She swept forward, discarding her mattock as her arms snapped up around the privateâs body to lock around his torso. There was no time for delicacy, pitching the younger soldier sideways as she threw her body weight with him. They landed in a heap as the gunship opened fire, but the sergeant raised her arms to shield his helmet as the gun caught up to them.
Those few seconds passed so slowly, their shields bleeding together to deflect some of the damage but inevitably buckling under the onslaught. She made no attempt to move, or uncover the private to protect herself more. Shaking with every hit, she kept her visor pressed tight to his, so close that the tint did little to obscure their faces and she could see the panic filling his eyes. Was this the inevitable part? A living shield to a comrade, to a friend, to a...whatever the hell this private was supposed to mean to her that she was willingly putting herself between him and a machine gun?
Maybe it wasnât such a bad way to go. Maybe it was a good way to go. She still didnât want to go.
The gunfire stopped. Seconds later, a blast of heat washed over them followed by a thunderous crash of rent metal. For a moment, she waited, expecting the gunship to resume firing and finish what it started. When nothing came, she straightened from her protective coil and looked out the ravaged windows to see no sign of the A-91. âWhat..?â
Blinding beams of light surged down from the sky, and the air reeked of burning ozone as the lights swept in great arcs around the walls. She tried to rise to her feet, wincing as she felt the warm trickle of blood down her side. Sparrow clutched her injury tightly, slightly surprised when her free arm was tugged over Pollardâs shoulder and he hoisted her up to her feet. Helping the sergeant across the room, the pair reached the lip in time to hear an unfamiliar but commanding voice fill the platoon-wide channel.
âThis is Lieutenant Commander Sinoff of the Deliverance. I am assuming control of this conflict. Commence your extraction immediately, Victory 3rd. This is out of your hands now.â She stared in stunned silence at the frigate now hovering over their position; its GARDIAN lasers carving swathes through the suddenly outgunned Alliance forces. She nodded slowly, pulling her limb from Rogerâs shoulder and straightening out as best she could.
âThis is Sergeant Oberacker of the Victory 3rd.â She paused, staring at the sleek black ship for a moment longer before looking down at the marines below. ââŠthank you, Deliverance. You really pulled our ass out of the fire.â
âSpeak thanks to your superiors, Sergeant. I would not be assisting if not for them.â The line went dead, and she nodded dully, already in the process of switching channels. In the corner of her eye, she saw Roger hurry down the stairs, but paid little mind to his departure as the connection stabilized.
âOverwatch, this is Sergeant OberackerâŠthe Deliverance is holding position above our own and is holding the Alliance forces at bay. I am requesting extraction, how copy?â There was a beat of silence, likely the Operative checking for a proper confirmation before she replied.
"Acknowledged, ground team, Kodiaks are en route to your location. Overwatch out." If she didnât know any better, she might have thought that Invaru had sounded relieved. The sergeant stepped towards the stairs, only to be met in a rush by Salazar with Roger a few steps behind. So thatâs where he had been going. The medic shot her a look, something between incredulous and appreciative, but neither had the desire to go into that at the moment.
After a brief once over, Salazar ushered her downstairs and forced her into a seat before digging into her med-kit. Her squish skin must have rent rather badly for the medic to actually need to do some field work, but as she felt the disinfectant sting at gashes along her back she hadnât been aware she had, Sparrow dully resigned herself to the treatment. A few other marines lay nearby, sporting long gashes and cracks to the ablative plating of their assault armour. Each looked like theyâd been through hell. It wouldnât be far off the mark for today.
There was a beep in her ear, and she tapped her comm unit quickly. âSergeant Oberacker, go ahead.â
âSergeant, this is Flight Lieutenant Stephen Medwin. Weâre en-route to your location; do you have a preferred LZ?â She looked dryly up to the frigate still looming over their heads like a vigilant guardian.
âPark it near the big warship. You canât miss it.â
âCopy that, Sergeant. See you in a few. Medwin out.â Dropping her hand back to her side, Sparrow released a long side as Salazar finished the last touches on her injuries and excused herself to another room. The sergeant stared quietly at the ground, slowly beginning to look through the operation in her mind.
She felt none of her usual accomplishment, none of the post mission celebration. Raising a dust stained hand, her eyes picked the small flicks of red still clinging to the normally white polished plating. Maybe this wasnât supposed to feel like an actual victory, not with the way it went, not with what it cost. She didnât want to think about it, really, not right now. She was alive. They were alive, and that should be enough.