Constrictor Squad's Story

It was raining in the Nillies, like it always did. The only difference is that tonight there was a hive of sound to drown it out. To drown all of it out. A convoy cut through the rain, the dark, and the noise. All the screams and pleas of the innocent were swept away by the roar of the sleek, black VAB's engines. The patter of the always dismal rain was blocked out via the crunching of loose asphalt under the heavy tread tires. Even the latent stench of the Nillies took a back seat to the harsher scent of pure diesel.

That was the effect of the Gorgon's Watch Protection Services.

Even in a place as harsh, and hellish as VL, even in the rotting heart of a city of liars, and braggarts, the GW was no trifle. The two heavily plated, well armed combat vehicles commanded respect, or maybe it was fear. Fear of the wrathful, unflinching men inside them, fear of the IMI NEGEVs booth VAB's had mounted on the roof, or just the simple fear of the enemy who lives next door. Whatever it was, it didn't matter.

All of the cesspit that called itself The Nillies was swept away in the convo's wake. Even the darkness reseeded, cut to ribbons by the heavy-duty halogen headlights.

The men inside however, seemed utterly oblivious to these facts. In the rear truck the driver and passenger exchanged raunchy jokes, while the two men in back played a game of cards. The front truck was just as lax. The passenger asleep, and the three men in the back all playing I-Spy from sheer boredom. It was almost a good thing the windows on each vehicle were so heavily tinted, because if anybody could see inside at a glance, the GWSP would probably lose some of it's respect and intimidation facotr.

Hell, maybe someone did see in considering what happened.

The job was supposed to be simple, easy even. A paranoid rich guy wanted from point A to B, in the most overkill way possible. Nobody had threatened him, or his life. He wasn't too honest, or too dirty upon closer inspection. He hadn't even offended any of the visiting Aschen. There was literally no reason for the job, other than the fact the man had enough money to make it worth the resources. The Gorgon never turned down an honest, if not boring job if it paid enough.

Maybe that was his folly, maybe that made him look soft, maybe that made his men soft.

Soft enough for the front-truck's driver to look away for a split second. He checked his rear-view mirror, eyes lingering for just a moment too long. When he looked back at the road ahead of him, he saw a row of little red dots. Blinking red dots. He jerked the steering wheel full to the left, causing the VAB to tip onto it's two side wheels only. His passenger was jolted awake, one of the men in back was already communicating to the other truck.

"I dunno what the fuck is going on man, I didn't see shit myself but Asp shouted 'mines'. Fucking mi-"

The soldier didn't get to finish his warning, the right side of the truck had come back down, and the rear wheel just barely touching one of the mines. Just barely, but enough. With a deafening crash the entire row went up, launching the truck end-over-end with a hell of a lot of force. It skidded along the black top for 15m, the metal grinding and screeching the whole way. It came to a jolting stop with a harsh clunk.

"So much for fucking easy", one of the men from the rear-truck hissed as two of his brothers dove out the side doors, hitting the pavement running.

The moment they began their sprint though, gunfire erupted from all directions. A proverbial hail of bullets came screaming around every corner, impacting the VAB's with loud thuds, and the road with sprays of dirt. It had gone from a quiet night to a warzone in seconds. Luckily for the GWPS that was their forte. The man in the turret of the still rear-truck let loose return fire, the NEGEV coughing to life, and then into rapid-fire action. He had no confirmed visuals on his targets, but he didn't need any Back and forth in front of him he jerked the heavy gun as it spit out a wall of bullets, to cover the two men who dove.

The attackers seemed not to have counted on this, as screaming and the sickly, wet thumping of bullet-filled bodies colliding with the ground filled the silent gaps in between gunfire.

"Fucking move! Spitjaw, Sunbeam, FUCKING MOVE!", the driver from the rear-truck was yelling into his commlink, nearly in a panic. His two previously-pinned comrades took the hint though, sprinting forward while staying low, the MMG above them giving them enough cover to make it the downed truck. It was in bad shape, crumpled and leaking fuel, but the reinforced frame had held. Spitjaw stood in front of Sunbeam, M249H held tight, firing into the darkness and shouting. Drawing as much attention away from his buddy as possible.

Which was a damn blessing since Sunbeam was busy smashing the butt of his M4A4 against the VAB window with all his might.

It shattered as the unknown attackers unleashed another salvo, primarily focused on the MMG. Sunbeam dove into the rickety truck without a second thought, grasping desperately until his his hand gripped firm around a plated shoulder. He worked his hand's way up to the neck of whoever it was he found, the familiar scarring telling him it was Cobra. A sigh of relief. He felt for the pulse then, his breath held fast.

3..2..1..Thump-thump.

"HE'S ALIVE!" The soldier shouted into his mic, and on that note the driver of the still-able truck gunned his engine. He drove up beside the over-turned wreck, parking up against it sideways to form a V-shape. Bullets go through car doors, but even mafia guns rarely penetrate entire fortified mini-tanks. This was cover, for now. The Gunner jumped out from his turret once the VAB came to a halt, taking the NEGEV with him. While the driver grabbed a gun out of the back, and joined the rest of the team in retrieving the downed from the wreck.

The entire time the gunfire never ceased. Countless round after round colliding with the heavy VAB plating. The thuds and plinks turning into the rhythm of hell itself.

Thankfully no one was gravely wounded, two of the men from the wreck were unconscious, but the other two were already reaching for guns. It was another two full minutes of every man holding tight, eyes dead ahead and visors set to night vision, waiting, before the tornado of bullets ceased. The moronic bangers finally realized they weren't about to punch through the trucks with third-hand, outdated Terran guns. They began to rush the makeshift blockade.

It sounded like a damn swarm, there were so many. It was hard to make out distinct footfalls, but it was an easy 10-to-1 ratio of bangers to soldiers.

The men looked at each other for a moment, each trying to come up with a plan before the Gunner spoke, or more accurately, yelled. "Welp. I'd say it's a case of simple fucking crowd control. We've done this shit before, let's hop to it you limp-dicks!" The other five nodded in agreement, smirking, and set to work. Two stayed crouched in the front, waiting for targets to advance from their vulnerable flank, while the other three set about a somewhat more proactive approach.

The driver of the front-truck had grabbed a M32 MGL, a damn good thing to have in a crowd situation. Only problem was he'd also grabbed a fistful of 40mms without checking what type they were. Too late to matter now though. His two companions each set up on the hoods of the trucks, opening fire in calculated bursts. The front line of the approaching hoard was broken in moments, still some 100m out. The soldier's accuracy caught them off guard. That didn't last.

They kept on coming, opening fire at sheer random as they ran like mad men. Guess their boss was paying big for some dead GW's.

Luckily for the soldiers the driver had finished loading his MGL, and popped up from between the two marksmen with a shout of joy. He squeezed the trigger with baited breath, and time seemed to slow as he watched the mystery grenade sail through the air. It collided with the ground a bit off center from the middle of the horde, exploding with an oddly quiet bang, accompanied by the shouts of all those a little too close.

It was a wasp grenade.

Usually used by prison guards as a form of fear and crowd-control, it held a relatively weak explosive charge. It was, however, filled with small metal balls, usually made of steel or titanium. Those balls were dispersed at extreme velocity, tearing anybody too close apart and ricocheting off walls. Sadly the effectiveness was reduced outside, the only ones ricocheting were the ones hitting the VABs.

Including one that hit Sunbeam square in the forehead, knocking the man flat on his ass.

Still, the driver and Spitjaw looked at each other before nodding. Spitjaw stood up again and provided cover fire while the driver launched his other two grenades at the clustered masses on either side of the horde. It was as effective as could be hoped, but hostiles were finally closing around the flank. The two crouching soldiers had begun to open up fire in small bursts, one of them shouting over his shoulder.

"Yo Boa, they're comin' in hot. Dig back in your fucking truck, and give us some hot cover!"

The driver turned and acknowledged, leaving Spitjaw alone to keep the forward assault at bay. The two flank guards gave him the best cover they could, but it wasn't quite enough. Two bullets caught him in the back as he leaned through the VAB's window, fishing around in an ammo bag. He howled and went limp for a moment, his armor had kept the bullets from piercing, but it didn't do shit for the force of impact. He was dazed momentarily.

All the air was knocked out of his lungs, his ears rang, and he could swear a rib was broken. He shook it off as best he could, gathering himself up quickly, and snatching the ammo he needed before slumping down on the pavement, behind the flank guards. He groaned as he loaded the MGL, "Alright..FUCK that shit stings..I'm staying down. You take the shots Python, I've got your back." He tossed the launcher to the man who'd hailed him, catching the M4A4 that was thrown his way in trade. He quickly provided cover fire while prone, which was all Python needed to end this whole ordeal.

Thoop, thoop

Two grenades was all it took, both incendiary rounds. He'd managed to sink one just behind the bangers who were advancing, and one dead-center in their sloppy ranks. That second shot even managed to hit a combatant in the chest. Fire erupted all around, the crackle of the flames providing a backdrop for the screams of the burning. These thugs' over-confident charge was in ashes, just like most of the thugs themselves

A lake of fire protected them from the flank, although the rain would quell it soon, and well placed shots, coupled with Wasp grenades had devastated the front. Those attackers left on each side began to back away, but the GW troops weren't about to let it end so easily. Each of the four able men grabbed a rifle and fanned out in a V-formation. They fired with purpose at the leftover flankers before breaking off into two-man teams, and hunting down those left on either side.

The gangbangers, scattered and overwhelmed, fell into pure chaos. Thugs running off in every which direction, weapons thrown down without care. The fight was over, but mercy wasn't granted. Round after round was single-shotted into the back of every punk who had tried to kill them.

This was why. As four men spread out, illuminated by the flames of a wreckage, and their mayhem, silhouettes appearing with every life-ending shot, that they were feared. Respected. Their gunfire was why VL found itself silent in their wake.

The encounter only lasted a few minutes, including hunting down the routed deserters. By the time the four man kill squad made it back to the wreck, Sunbeam was on his feet again. He'd secured the package, the rich dude having been smart enough to hit the deck, and not make a peep the whole time. Sunbeam was already patched into HQ, giving a sitrep even.

"Yeah, an ambush, a shitty one.", he was actually laughing as he spoke. "Nah, package is secure and undamaged. Requesting minimal back-up, med evac, and new transit." He paused, listening to the dispatcher. "Fuck, man we ain't giving this mission up. Just send the fucking tank, not a minivan with a gun. I'll personal blow any dipshit who gets in the way straight to goddamn Mars."

Back up and extraction would arrive in thirty-minutes. The city would be silent the entire time, aside from the quickly dying flames, and constant patter of rain. There would be no second attack, no further ambush, and the Tank looked amazing as it drove right up Main Street.

The client couldn't have been more happy.

The crowded highway slowly ground on, a seemingly endless gridlock of cars from every nation, and planet available. Heat rose up from the asphalt to distort the air around every vehicle, smog from older exhausts painted the skyline in various shades of brown. Hell, you couldn't even hear yourself shout over the roar of engines, honks of horns, and blaring stereos. Nothing about Wing Cities' highway was particularly interesting.

Aside from who just might be on it.

Out on the I-91, one of the largest roads leading out of the city, the gridlock was even worse than usual. Halfway down it, it emptied into open, flat space, with nothing but a few hills dotting the lush landscape on either side. It made it's winding way out of the city, and through a series of bridge-like structures, over some seriously deep ravines to carry on to places like VL. It was slammed today too, since it was a holiday, so all sorts of people were bumper-to-bumper. Only one really stood out, though.

Dead center in one of the mid-lanes a massive black rectangle of steel loomed over all the other drivers. A gloss-painted, heavily plated Leopard-2 MBT sat in the abysmal gridlock. The emblem of the Gorgon's Watch was emblazoned on it's front in a deep green, and the rugged treads came up half as high as any normal car. Still, not even this beast of a transport was exempt from rush-hour traffic, and people wanting to go to VL for parties, and soccer-moms with out of state tournaments to get to.

It was actually sort of hilarious, the big tank, a mass of pure carnage, sitting immobile with an SUV in front of it, and a mini-coop behind it.

The people inside found it much less amusing, having succumbed to boredom an hour ago. They'd played cards, I-spy, punch-bus, and even made bets on road rage since the migration out of town began, at 3am that morning. It had all warn thin, it was beyond hot in the inside of the tank too, despite the AC system. Tempers weren't far from flaring when one of the men broke a twenty minute silence.

"You know the mayor's gunna be fuckin' pissed, Boa."
Python held in a smirk as he flicked the designated tank driver in the back of the head. It was by far his favorite pastime, and everybody else's really. "We set fire to a fuckin' street, killed some mooks, and then rolled a tank down his drive way. He's gunna flip shit."

He was right, but that was only half of why Spitjaw, and Sunbeam agreed.

"Ayup", was all the driver said in return to his hecklers though. He knew they just wanted to jack his blood pressure up, he was used to this shit. He kept his eyes on the road, and simply nodded whenever they tried to needle at him. Goddamn was driving in a traffic jam boring, he thought. "Why can't I just drive over all these fucking morons..?"

Spitjaw was the first to notice his stoic resolve, and motioned for the other two to be quiet. He knew just the button to push.

"You know this mean Gorgon is gunna get yelled at, which means he's going to yell at you. With live fire."

"Mhmn..." Boa's voice wavered for a moment, as the threat of his boss pulled him out of his internal monologue about crushing a few hundred civvies. The Gorgon would never fire at his own men, but goddamn was he one intimidating middle-aged bastard. (Un?)Fortunately for the pissed off driver, and his bored passengers, their dull situation was brought to an abrupt end.

Sunbeam was just about to make a crack about Boa's ass getting drilled by the boss when the tank lurched violently. The painful sound of a muffled explosion drawing them all up short, before flinging them from their seats

Boa snarled, his head having collided with the dash in front of him. He shook it off quick, staring at the cameras, as their screens flashed a large red "Warning!", apparently they were under some kind of attack. No shit. "Everybody alright back th-", the targeting system had locked on the moron who had fired on them before he could finish. "You have got to be fucking kidding me..", was all he could muster. It was some punk, with a flack-jacket on, and an RPG-7 on his shoulder.

It had to be the same fucking Mafia-pricks who hassled them earlier. Who else would be dumb enough to open fire on a GW detachment.

It took the three in the back a second to gather themselves. It's not like tank's had seatbelts, and the RPG had hit the side they were all on. The impact was mild thanks to the plating, but it still sent them all flying. Sunbeam was the first to gather himself up off the floor, shaking his head as he stood. "Yo, Boa, what the fuck i-", again he was cut off by explosions, but this time a hell of a lot more of them. The mafia had organized what could only be called a firing line, comprised entirely of RPG-7s.

Fourteen RPGs rained down on the highway like hellfire. They were aimed at the tank, and the road in general. Each impacted something, blowing away the very road, entire bunches of clustered up of cars, and even the idiots who'd gotten out of their rides three lanes over to investigate. It really was hell. The sound of the joint rockets impacting was a deafening crash for a solid mile around. Metal screaming as it wretched off the ground and blown back, twisting and scarping along the asphalt until it collided with something heavy enough to cease it's wailing. People crying out in short bursts, before they were reduced to a fine mist.

The road was in ruins. Blood splatter, oil, car parts, and limbs littered the eviscerated landscape like confetti at a cheap party. Wrecked vehicles were strewn about, just crumpled messes left and right. Most of them were already going up in flames, starting a chain of fire around the largely unscathed tank.

The tank was hit two more times, the plating keeping it largely unharmed, but the men inside were tossed around again.

"Oh FUCK THIS", Spitjaw howled, his hands bloody with scrapes from the second jolt. This was the second goddamn time today they were sitting ducks, and he was not a fan of it. "Boa, get the fucking visuals on any target you can, and feed it through to our HUDs. Sunbeam, get in the fucking turret, and Python you're with me."

Python just blinked at him as he pushed himself off the floor. Spitjaw was not usually the tactical commander, Boa was. He looked to the driver for confirmation but Boa simple shrugged.

"You heard the man."

"So...Why the fuck are we going outside when there's rockets?" Spitjaw just shook his head at the question, grabbing the Barrett M82A1 out of the gun rack beside the seats, and tossing it to the doubter.

"We got an M4A4 with an ACOG back here too. Boa gets visuals and fires off a few shells, Sunbeam lays cover with his precious NEGEV, and we take out every bastard we can."

"Hoorah, motherfucker."

---

The NEGEV howled to life, bullets rapidly spraying towards the general location of everyone Boa spotted, while the hatch to the Leopard-2 was flung open. Spitjaw and Python were about to jump out when the whole tank shuddered, generating the loudest boom of the day for far. The great black beast belched forth a DM43 APFSDS-T, anti-tank round. The thing sailed beautifully right towards a near-by hill, and hit with enough force and explosiveness to practically level the thing.

"HOLY FUCK!" Python, who was part way out of the hatch when it fired felt nearly deaf, and was both pissed, and impressed. "Why the fuck did you do that, do they have a tank?"

"Nah," Boa sounded damn near bored, despite how exhilarating firing the 120mm smoothbore was. "They had a dude on the hill so, you know."

Python and Spitjaw looked each other for a minute, then over to the shrugging Boa. They both ended up chuckling a little as they got out of the tank, dashing behind it before the next round of RPGs hit.

Ten more rocket propelled grenades hit the flattop. The bridge-like section the Leopard-2 was on was in serious danger as the projectiles blew away most of the passage in front of it, but the people on it fared far worse. It was a true scene of horror as the bridge broke away in a clatter of grinding metals, and crumbling stones. Dozens of flaming wrecks began to spill down it, crashing into, and obliterating any person who was clinging to the street, or chunks of up-turned rebar for their lives.

It was probably for the best, though. The fall to the ravine below was long, lethal as hell, and would take awhile to hit bottom, and die. At least this way they didn't suffer. Much.

---

Both men outside were thrown to the ground yet again, each covering their ears from the pain the noise afflicted. Too many rockets could blow up more than streets and people, it was hell on eardrums. Spitjaw's were bleeding, but he didn't notice. All either of them noticed was the taste in the air. A dry, bitter mix of ash, oil, and blood. The road was simply slick with a deep black mixture of the three.

Python had fallen face-first onto a squishy patch that had once been a person. A puddle of gore had found its way into his mouth.

"This is too fucking much..Too fucking much.." Python groaned as he pushed himself up from the slush on the ground. He spit out the horrifying contents of his mouth, and scooped his Barrett off the ground. He motioned for Spitjaw to take the left, while he set up on the right, standing just to the side of one of the turrets and propping the bi-pod up on the hull. He had to stand on the treads to do it, but he knew the rig wasn't going anywhere.

Spitjaw, on the other hand, just knelt beside the tank in the firing position, most of his body obscured by the ride, allowing him to freely fire at the large red diamonds on his HUD.

They were all about 500-800m out, The M4A4's ACOG sight couldn't even really make them out, but the targeting guide from the tank highlighted them. It was all he needed, firing a few rounds at one of them, and then waiting to see if the marker died off. It was surprisingly effective.

Python had no such problem though, the extreme scope of the Barrett .50c allowing him to practically make eye contact with the bastards. They were all wearing heavy flack jackets, and they moved with some form of cohesion. They were heavily spread out, some on hills, some on the towers that supported suspension bridges down the line. These weren't just bangers, this was some shitty third-rate army for sale, one that had no boundaries.

You leave Civvies out of it, always, at least in Python's book. Which is probably why the thunderous crack of the Barrett felt so good. The recoil hitting his shoulder like a hive-five as it punched a hole clean through a man's chest. One less rocket for their next volley.

Meanwhile inside the tank Boa had been busy calling into HQ and giving a sitrep, while requesting air support. It would be about 30 minutes before any of the attack choppers got there. He was thankful, if only because he didn't know two attack choppers not on his side were only 10 minutes away.

Another hail of rockets filled the skyline.

Wing City...
Imperial Guard Head Quarters...


Back in Wing City, Imperial Guard forces stationed in wing city were busy with efforts to rebuild the city after the invasion. It had been a few long months, most of the destroyed buildings had been repaired and they were also reinforcing the law of the city. Actively hunting down the criminals of society and getting rid of them, the city was safer and the city was looking back to its old self before the invasion.

Sitting inside the headquarters sat a man in a uniform, he was the second in command after managing to appoint a new Lord General after the previous one had sacrificed his life in the defence of this city. In front of him stood stacks of paper, from civil to military documents he had to sign off on each and every one of them. Filling in death certificates for the thousands that lost their lives was tiring work, he had finished doing that a few hours ago. Now he had to get to work ensuring that they could expand their influence and begin Imperium projects such as a training academy for new recruits or even a church to gather more followers for the God Emperor, he would also need to create a Chapel-Barracks for when the space marines return.

However suddenly, a Guardsman burst into his office before giving a salute. "Apologies Commisar sir! I have an urgent report! We have received word from active patrols that they have seen the 'Wing City Highway' under attack by an unknown group! Casualties unknown and damage appears severe! What are your orders!" The soldier spoke and the Commisar quickly spoke up. "Send word to the Imperial Airforce, I want Thunderbolt fighters mobilised and on their way to this bridge to asses the situation and clear out hostile aircraft. If no aircraft are there then begin staffing operations. Then I want Valkarie transports with soldiers in them to proceed to the highway and begin relief efforts. Afterwards aend word to the closest armoured divisions to pack up all supplies and head to this highway. Eliminate all hostiles and repair that highway. Also I want all nearby squads nearest to the bridge to arrive either on for or by transport. Get a move on soldier." With his order, the Guardsman quickly nodded and left his office and quickly began to alert the rest of the unit.

A few minutes passed and over the city a squadron of thunderbolt fighters flew overhead, they were on their way to the highway and not far behind them squadrons of Valkarie transports few overhead as well. For the fighters it could take them five minutes to arrive, for the transports in the air it would be ten. Armoured forces on the ground, fifteen minutes as well. However multiple squads with no less than four in each team were only a few minutes away from the highway. And there were Kasrykins elites already moving ahead of their guardsman counterparts.

This time the squad was ready, everybody braced for the impact, and held tight as the thundering barrage of RPGs struck. The only problem was just how accurate the attacking shitheads had gotten. Four out of eight rockets either struck the tank, or close enough to it to cause a problem. Two collided with the front, one on the rear left side, the gunner and driver were bounced around their stations, bodies colliding with metal in the process. They both suffered fractures, Boa to the wrist, and Sunbeam to the ribs.

The jerking of the tank had also made things worse for Python. He was on the opposite side of were the rear RPG struck, and though he ducked and covered his ears in time, he couldn't hang on to the siding well enough, slipping off the tread-wheel and tumbling backwards onto the pavement. Even through his helmet, the impact on solid asphalt was painful, something had even cut him pretty bad over the eyebrow. The worst of it was the tread-wheel, though. His foot had gotten caught on some part of the mechanism he was standing on, and it didn't un-wedge when he went sailing.

Pain wracked his body, he looked up at his leg, still stuck up in the tank where it was caught. It was hard to tell much with his bloodied vision, but he thankfully noticed it was still attached to his torso. Just utterly broken, and useless.

Worse yet, Boa didn't know this, at any moment he could move the tank, and probably tear Python's leg off. He knew he had to move fast, and with a string of curses he sat up as best he could, and yanked on his leg, twisted his foot, pushed, and pulled through the excruciating pain of it all to get it free. It dislodged with a sickening crunch sound, his hands pulled away covered in blood.

This was bad, like 'did you nick an artery?', bad. The only saving grace was that his ceramite armor was mostly intact, just a little crushed. That crushing would probably help stem the blood loss a little, but not enough.

"Sunbeam..Fucking hell, SUNBEAM!", his pained yelling was barely audible over the NEGEV, Python had to resort to picking up a chunk of..Something..And throwing it at his brother to get his attention. When Sunbeam turned, and saw the damage he sprinted over to his fallen comrade as quick as he could, sliding along the slippery pavement as he went.

"I hope that was a fucking rock, and not a shard of bone you hit me with.", it wasn't a rock actually, but the joke was to hopefully keep Python's spirit up. The wounded man only offered a "heh" in response. Bad sign.

"You know I ain't a medic, right? I can only do so much...Fuck I need something to tie your leg up with.." Sunbeam light up with an idea, and jerked the shoulder strap off his M4A4, quickly tying it around Python's injured leg as high up on the thigh as he could. The man screamed, and groaned, but what else could be done? He gave the man a light punch on the shoulder and told him to stay low, and avoid moving.

He sprang up and grabbed hold of the Barrett, quickly scanning around for all the targets he could identify, he needed to know their exact odds.

They were bad. Really bad.

Where only four men had been on the suspension tower 500m-ish down the road before, now there were ten. More little red diamonds were showing up on the nearby hills as well. They were fucked at this rate, they couldn't take another round of ten RPGs outside the tank, let alone twenty. Fuck, twenty could blow the whole bridge.

"Boa, Boa! We need this fucking tank moved back, reinforcements are here, and they ain't ours."

"I fucking know!", the tank driver barked, being the person who supplied the targeting intel, and all. "I'd love to move back, but that'll just bring the fucking rockets with us, killing more folks stuck on the road."

Shit, he was right. They were stuck, they couldn't move just yet, and who knew if there was an ambush placed behind them, too. Sunbeam swore, staring at the suspension tower through his scope. If they could just..Remove..."Fuck."

"Blow the suspension tower, Boa. It'll take a few shots on each side, but fucking do it!"

Boa paused, guiding the massive 120mm smoothbore over to the left tower. His finger hovering over the trigger. "Any civvies down there, man?"

Sunbeam swept the area with thermal, and didn't catch any heat signatures at all. Either the fuckjobs trying to kill them moved everyone, or more likely people bolted, and the Bulwark or somebody shut down the highway. Either way, it was safe to demo.

"Nah, brother, nah. Guess they bolted, or The Bulwark did their job, or some fucking thing. Targets are clear. I repeat, targets are clear for demo."

BOOM. BOOM. DOOM.

The black monster of doom spit out three more rounds, one in the the center that held both side-towers together, and one in each tower. That part of the bridge was reduced to rubble, and fire. At least ten confirmed RPGers down, and the road cut off for more reinforcements. Unknown to the GW squad, half of that rubble would probably come down on one or more of the active IG patrols that had likely been the ones to e-vac the road.

"That's a fucking start!", Sunbeam shouted into his mic, relief in his voice, "Try to take out the left hillside, get NEGEV-man on the right. I'll man the Barrett and do what I can. Python is down, hurt pretty bad. How long till backup?"

Boa glanced at the clock next to his HUD, grimacing as he realized just how much time hadn't passed.

"Twenty-Eight minutes...I'll do what I fucking can."

With that the radio channel went dead, and the 120mm barrel swung over to the hills on the left. He had twenty-three more rounds, and by fucking god he'd turn that whole hillside into a goddamn crater with him. Come hell or high water, somebody was gunna pay.

BOOM...BOOM...BOOM...BOOM...

The first to arrive at the highway were nearby Imperial Patrol teams. The very first to arrive were Imperial Kasrykins, armed with carapace armour and armed with the best weapons they could be armed with. As they approached the highway they watched as rocket propelled grenades struck a tank and everything nearby. "That tank does not appear to be one of the hostiles, but who drives a tank alongside civilian issued vehicles?" One of the soldiers spoke to himself as he got in position and set up his Long-las. A long barred Las-gun with the accuracy of a sniper rifle, with the added benefit of using energy as its ammo source.

The soldier motioned for the others to advance up ahead to assist the civilians and the engage the hostiles on the hillside. For the sniper, he aimed through his scope and surveyed the hillside. Plenty of guys with RPG's on that hill, apparently that tank was a target. Hovering over on one of the mob guys, he aimed right over head. Unlike normal snipers or weapons, las-gun weaponry had no drop to it meaning it was accurate despite its rather poor damage output against anything wearing actual armour. He took a breath, and with one flick of the trigger the long-las echoed to life, one of the mob soldiers suddenly had a hole drilled in his head. That was one down.

"Everyone! Evacuate in a orderly fashion! This bridge is getting unstable so watch your foot---" One of the guardsman yelled out however was cut short as the tank opened fire on the towers of the road that contained RPG'ers. Of course after the first she'll the soldiers knew better than to stay. "Everyone run! The tower is going to fall!" With that said the soldiers ran back before the most severe of the rubble could come down and thanks to their actions it seemed that there were only a few civilian casualties. With part of the highway clear of civilians, the Imperial soldiers were clear to open fire on the enemy on the hillside. "I want those targets dead! I want a heavy bolter suppressing that position!" A sergeant spoke up motioning for a team of heavy weapons to begin setting up a massive machine gun armed with a tripod. As they set up, some sort of energy shield activated around the small team, a minor refractor field that would defend against small arms fire. As the gun set up, the gun bellowed to life and began pouring bullets upon the hillside treating to tear apart everyone with shells larger than .75 caliber rounds unless they were forced to take cover. While they did this, multiple Imperial soldier took up position on the bridge to add las-gun fire or hell-gun fire to add to the amount of fire. They knew fighter support was on the way. Better to pin the enemy then let them continue their bombardment while civilians continued to evacuate by other Imperial members.

The thunder-clap of the Barrett had been non-stop, picking up where the 120mm smoothbore's roar left off. Each pull of the trigger was another dead thug, another hole the size of a large rock through a chest, another limb torn off. Sunbeam was starting to feel pretty damn good, even though Spitjaw's NEGEV had run dry. Not to mention he was pretty sure he was at least partially deaf now, and the .50c was throwing his shoulder out.

All-and-all it was starting to look like they'd have this tidied up in no time. As usual though, that's when a belated miracle struck.

The las-fire from nowhere was welcome. It seemed the IG had showed up, finally, both behind the tank, and on the other side of the bridge Constrictor Squad collapsed. Sunbeam thought it was pretty strange that they'd be on that side though, meant they were coming from outside the city. Still, he wasn't really in the mood to look a gift-horse in the mouth, but that coupled with the fact that they would've been more useful about three minutes ago left him underwhelmed.

"Boa, you readin' the Imperial Guard?", he had fired up his commlink, already formulating a plan.

Boa snorted, "Got eyes on las-fire, and those ridiculous fucking Botlers, if that's what you mean."

"Guess the canon fodder wants to play soldier today. I say we fucking let them.", Sunbeam's gaze stayed focused on Python, while he ducked bend the tank for safety. His squad mate was now unconscious.

"Ain't putting civvies in a rocket line you fuck.", Boa's patience for the whole ordeal had run thin, but not thin enough to endanger those un-involved.

"Really think I would either?", the livid Sunbeam practically scowled as he looked around the path behind him. His HUD footage feeding straight to Boa's. "Besides..If you could see Python, you probably wouldn't care.", his video feed came to rest on the bleeding comrade.

It was almost, "If you two pussies are done ovulating," a touching moment, until Spitjaw butted in. "Can we please just move this fucking sitting duck of a tank already?"

The crass approach was needed, the minimal levity it granted causing Boa to chuckle. "Yeah, yeah. Keep your fucking 1950's sexism in your goddamn pants. We have a lull thanks to the IG." The tank shuddered to life, treads spinning in reverse. "This rig is mobile gentlemen, and Spitjaw."

"Good, keep the fucking turrets running," Sunbeam's concern was evident in his sigh. "I'll carry Python ahead of us, make sure no stray shots get to us. They just might have a medic.."

"Roger." "Roger".

Sunbeam picked up his unconscious brother, putting a limp arm around his shoulders, and started to drag him towards the IG line. The tank loomed behind him, rattling off wave after wave of heavy fire. Chances are whoever these mercs were had taken a solid beating. They seemed to have plenty of men, but now two forces had "joined" together to repel them. Unless they had massive numbers, or an entire fleet of aircraft, they'd retreat.

Well, unless they were fucking morons, anyway." Sunbeam's little internal snarking made him chuckle. He was drained, banged up, and Python was pretty damn heavy. He just wanted the idiot to be okay, so he could quit worrying and slide into a Jacuzzi, with three ladies whose names he'd never bother to learn. That sounded damn nice right about now. Of course, it always sounded nice to Sunbeam.

The refreshing thought didn't last long, however, as another volley of RPGs hit the bridge. Twelve this time, somehow. A lot missed the tank, but they stray fire leveled more of the bridge. There was a reason RPG-7s were meant for 200m, not 500m. Those that were lucky enough to hit, about three of of them, mainly they hit rear of the tank. One lucky rocket exploded about 25m in front of Sunbeam though. He was thrown back, hitting the pavement with a thud as Python crumpled beside down him.

His vision was cloudy, the wound above his eyebrow now poured a gout of blood into his vision. The air was knocked from his lungs, too. He found that out when he tried to shout for Python. He gasped for a moment, his lungs spasming in pain before refilling with air. This day was beyond shit, this was becoming hell.

"PTYHON!..PYTHON!", Sunbeam pushed himself off of the gory tarmac, discovering his wrist was broken too via the sharp pain. "Fuck." He realized calling for an unconscious man was pointless, and switched to his commlink. "Spitjaw, Boa, you guys still with me?"

"Ayup."

"Yeah, dumb ass. It's a tank, not a goddamn mini-van."

The silence began to panic Sunbeam. He waited twenty seconds before hailing his team again, this time with desperation. "Boa, Spitjaw, do you read me?"

"Uhh..Yeah. You just asked, Sunbeam. You alright?" Boa barely finished his sentence before Sunbeam hailed again, now having turned to limp back towards the tank.

"I don't fucking hear anything! Fuck, are your comms down, or did the plating give way? What the fuck is with this fucking day?", desperation filled the wounded man's voice, and his squad finally understood what happened.

Boa sent a quick message to Sunbeam's HUD via speech-to-text, it simply read "You're deaf. Can you see this?"
'
"Yeah, I can see, barely. Blood in my eyes, man." Sunbeam calmed down damn near instantly, his blindness a lot easier to deal with than the potential loss of his squad.

"Can you walk?", was the reply.

"Yep, legs operational."

"Gather Python, continue to head for Medic. We got your back, trust me.", it was good the text couldn't relay tone, because Boa was livid. Nobody damaged his squad, and walked the fuck away. The tank began to shudder with every step of retreat it took, unleashing it's hellish payload at any target the HUD could find. Boa didn't care how much it cost, or the collateral, those hills were about to become parking lots.

Meanwhile Sunbeam did as he was ordered. He didn't have the strength to carry Python, so he grabbed the man's arm, and simply dragged him along. Each step was misery, and his shoulder complained hardily, but he smiled none-the-less, because each tremor he felt in his boots was another 120mm round of payback.

All in all, he was actually pretty happy he was deaf right now.

"MEDIC! I NEED A GODDAMN MEDIC OVER HERE!"

The Imperial forces continued to lay down suppressive fire against the thugs on the hill. And with the civilians cleared it would seem that the tank was now able to move and avoid crushing civilians. "Keep the fire pouring! Fighter support is less than a minute away! Keep fighting men for the Emperor! Show these bastards not to mess with civilians under our watch!" The sergeant yell out encouraging the men. Soon rocket fire came foreign at them once again however thanks to the range and suppressive fire, most of the missiles missed but some managed to connect to the bridge and tank.

The entire squad poured fire on the hillside and were soon joined by additional squads after they themselves had finished evacuating the civilians adding extra firepower. Of course the sudden shouting that someone needed a medic was hear wishing the lines and not a second later, a Guardsman armed with just a las-pistol but was carrying a medical pack with him carefully rushed over to the pair that looked worse for wear. "I won't speak about why the hell you have a tank driving in the middle of a highway! But right now I am here to offer any medical aid but right now..." The soldier spoke as he opened us his medical case and grabbed two massive syringes, these contained a medical solution that would ease their pain, although the needle was half the length of an adults pointer finger and he offered to jab it into them so they would not die or bleed out. Of course, he still needed to treat any broken limbs and bones.

Just a minute away, the squad of thunderbolt fighters could see the gunfire erupting from the bridge. "Patrol teams, we can see you for our location. We are commencing assistance operations in thirty seconds, just hold out a little longer then we shall deliver the Emperors justice." The lead pilot spoke through the Vox operator nearby. And he in return relayed the information to the rest of the team.

Above in a disused building with one shorn rear door an olive-skinned man struggling to be horrified sat among dead comrades. A fairly noisy transmission came through unsecured RF in a voice crawling with reverb. Jaunt transmitted barely enough to reach where he figured the vehicle would be so the directional signal was weak. There was no background noise or even breathing, "Soldiers of a false Queen, while I appreciate satisfying a reconnaissance contract early the nosy fellow with me to unlock communication equipment only knows just so many. Do you need any painkillers? I can't help with any reconstruction."

Jaunt's transmission paused while the human he named Thomas started grunt as he came down from his high, "Oh. yes, caught, Thomas. Are you crawling out of the K-hole? Get back in there."

Jaunt stops his transmission the drop of activity relaxing the fins of his leathery brown abdomen that were sticking through gaps in a sewn together mishmash of human armor. Six hairy legs pivoted his large body around a small locked-open radio sitting on the floor to speak for Jaunt. The shine from his ring of secondary eyes glints repeatedly from outside light as his two primary pointed at the poor slack jawed creature too numb to move. One quick lunge to bite a man blew him further into his mind and put a second of thin holes in his shirt that now leaks fresh blood. The the capacity to understand the need to flee slowly drained out of 'Thomas' eyes. Flexible curved teeth on Jaunt's front legs flexed pushing the stiffness out of his muscles. He had the urge to get moving before the other mercs got gun-happy. At least the plundered husk of some self-important renegade human could go for a walk. The 8 legged creature slammed the teeth of one flexible front leg into the renegade's thorax in a crimson squirt from teeth that tears through flesh to grab the ribs. The renegade was well kept and had a very well kept weapon so he must have had some useful information. Jaunt needed the last two the first no longer could exist. At least the renegade wouldn't go missing among the piles of dead meat. Iron smell of blood wafted past which he found entirely disgusting his muscles itching to get rid of the horrid thing. Strong flexible front legs discarded the ruined renegade to crunch sideways through an open window at the street below. Tommy, an olive skinned male of some stripe, drooled while staring at him toss his former cultural superior aside. Jaunt was almost envious of the irrelevant human Tommy's current inability to understand how disgusting the powerful smell of meat here was.

The spines on his flexing abdomen went taut again transmitting on the same channel as before the hollow voice says with disgust, "Heads up to clear. Meat is coming down."

Jaunt absently inspected the possessions with the two pale hands. He wore combat gloves with an unused pinky finger. He'd seized a few more things bearing interest on the body and didn't care about a wet thump below.

Sunbeam gratefully accepted the medical assistance. He had no clue what was in the needle, but if it made his body stop screaming in pain, and kept Python around, he didn't care. Hell, if it worked he'd buy a literal truck load of the shit, and take it back to VL if the road was ever rebuilt. He quickly took his gloves off, and rolled up his sleeve, then did the same for the unconscious Python.

"Hit us, Doc," he chuckled, a surprisingly painful action for him. "Make it quick. Something tells me the fight just ain't over ye-"

"Sunbeam, you copy?", it was Boa, and he sounded pretty damn concerned.

"Yeah?" Sunbeam's creeping feeling about the fight prolonging got a little bit stronger.

"Got a visual, two enemy attack choppers, on your three.", Boa sighed heavily, you could almost hear his head shaking. "Comin' in cold, but it looks like they're packing some heavy fucking artillery."

"So fucking shoot them down, you dumb prick, why you wasting time tell me this shit?"

"That's the thing!", Boa was barking into his comm now, wishing that for once Sunbeam would think ahead. "I'm low on fucking ammo you limp pecker-wood, and I am not sitting in a nearly inert tank to reload. They're also coming in along the bridge. Over the civvies, over the IG detachment, ove-" He paused as as a large heat signature flashed on his HUD, about 1000m away. He couldn't confirm it, but he had a pretty damn good guess as to what it was.

"The blew the next suspension bridge. They've trapped everybody on that side in a kill-box."

"Fucking hell!" Sunbeam swatted the medic away once he got his shot, standing up while his body numbed itself. "How long till our choppers, Boa?"

"No clue, ETA was thirty, so if these things got here first we can't be too far behind."

"How long till another rocket volley?"

"I don't fucking know, what the fuck do you think it is I'm doing with my time?", Boa was just flat out pissed now. "Timing the enemy reload, and positioning? No, I'm shelling."

"The get fucking eyes on them, Boa!", temper had gotten the better of Sunbeam as well. "Figure it the fuck out, and if you have enough time get your sorry ass, and Spitjaw out of the tank. Join me at the IG line. It'll be stupid to sit in that banged up thing, with barely any loaded ammo, if two attack helis hit the scene."

There was a brief radio pause, followed by an annoyed Boa's "Roger.", he really hated it when Sunbeam actually was thinking ahead, because it just made him look stupid.

Sunbeam quickly turned back to the Doc, and now mending Python. The two GW men were still in shit shape, but it was a start. "Alright, you...Imperial..Guard..Thing..Guy." He motioned to the medic, just in case his description left any question on who he meant. "Help me carry my buddy back to your op-base, get me in touch with a commander. Everyone on the other side of the bridge is trapped, and enemy air is coming in. We gotta move, fast."

---

"DUNH DUNH DUNH DUH, DUHN DUHN DUH DA DA DUHN!"

The poorly tuned "humming" of Flight of Valkyries bombarded the Sidewinder Squad's Comm channel. Even over the powerful, chopping blades of the Apache AH-64, it couldn't be blocked out.

The rest of the squad inside the black death machine collectively groaned as it cut through the midday skyline over the flats between VL, and Wing City. They all knew Timber was going to start "singing" that ever so cliched song eventually. They had a betting pool going even, almost all of them had opted for, "On takeoff", though. He bucked the odds, and made it all the way until they were just outside the engagement zone.

"Fucking hell, Timber!" The pilot was the first to round on him for it. "You just cost me two hundred fucking bucks. Why couldn't you have done that shit on take off?"

"Pffff," the reprimanded man was full on laughing at this stage. "Because, Diamondback. You're a goddamn retard. Rock'n'me agreed to split the pool if I rigged it."

His accomplice shot him a glare, hissing malice at him. "The fuck you tell them for, dipshit?"

"So we could beat your fucking ass," the forth man, Blacktail had spoken up.

Diamondback just laughed for a minute, before calling for a cease to the chatter. He had just gotten visual on two other choppers they hadn't been briefed on. He was unsure of what to do, and patched a call into HQ.

"Commander Gorgon? Sitrep, requesting advice. Two Helios heading to engagement zone. Cannot ID. Orders, sir?"

The other end was silent for a moment, before a cold, gruff voice boomed. "Given the situation it's safe to assume enemy craft. Intel doesn't have any civ flights charted for that area today, either. You are free to engage at will." Gorgon did not like this situation, not one bit. He was even more unhappy being stuck at HQ, waiting for a no-doubt pissed off mayor to show up. With the FUBAR this shit was turning into, he couldn't afford to offend the man.

He just really hoped he was making the right call.

"Roger that, Commander." Diamondback sounded thrilled however. He just really wanted to shoot something. It had been a long, boring ride thus far. "Will brief again after engagement. Sidewinder Squad signing off."

With that he pushed the copter forward at full speed, while shouting orders to the squad. "Okay ladies, get ready for a hot entry. New targets, new engagement. I'm taking down those choppers, but Constrictor still needs back up. Parachutes are located on your left." He chuckled for a moment, "And as always please remember to return your seats to the up-right, vertical position you found them in. Thank you for flying Air Hoorah today. There are no refunds."

The Squad rolled their eyes, giving a collective, unenthusiastic "hoorah" before Timber pipped up. "And you guys complained about my singing? Fuck, this guy's 'stand up' is more than enough to route the enemy."

Blacktail shoved a parachute pack into his arms in response, just glaring. "Time to go, you cheating bastard. I half hope your cord is busted."

"You, and me both brother!" Timber threw the thing on in a hustle and jerked the right side door of the chopper open. "Alright, which one of you is fir-"

Rock, who was still angry about being ratted out, straight up pushed him out of the chopper with a smirk. "You."

"If your done, gentlemen." Diamondback was laughing again, but worried about how long they were taking. Rock and Blacktail offered "rogers", and jumped.

Now that they were deployed, and en route, he was free to engage some helis.

The massive machine guns of the Apache AH-64 roared to life, spraying a wall of lead to the closer of the two helicopters. Diamondback could feel his blood rushing as a wave of adrenaline hit. "FUCK YEAH, SON!", he shouted, watching with glee as some of the bullets hit the back rotor. This was going to be too damn easy.

At least that was his impression, right until the lit chopper unloaded a barrage of missiles towards the ground, taking out the bridge. Both helicopters then immediately jerked around to face him. They were both full on attack choppers. Both loaded with serious firepower, and both carrying eight men inside.

"Well. Fuck."

The Imperial medic simply nodded as he assisted the two injured soldiers to the gunline. However with the state of the bridge and the threat of it falling, they were in deep trouble. They did not have equipment meant for escaping this situation, they would need to rely on luck and the Emperors mercy to see them through. "Emperor protect us all...Once we head to the line I will have the vox operator contact command. As for the enemy air support...you'll see." The medic sighed as he helped the man over to the line where the remaining Imperial forces were held up. Once they arrived the medic signaled the man with the large communication device on his back to contact command. "Command, come in command. this is the 124th along with the 412th, patrol teams near the highway. Commisar sir, the bridge has sustained major damage. However someone would like to speak to you..." The Vox operator spoke as he held out his radio to the man when he was ready to retrieve it.

With the arrival of the attack helicopters, they knew they could not waste their time on the choppers. They had to keep the hill pinned down, or else they would get hit by further volleys of rocket fire. Of course with the arrival of a friendly chopper, they were thankful to say the least.

Of course now seen over the horizon. The squad of five thunderbolts were now in plain view for all to see. "Hostile aircraft spotted! Arm all weapons and take them down!" The lead pilot called out at the fighters would proceed with aerial assistance. 5 sets of twin- linked autocannons, massive shells comparable to bolt rounds although at a much larger scale. These heavy fighters also came equipped with twin-linked, a massive energy weapon capable of burning right through the armor of armored vehicles especially choppers. Two fighters focused on the choppers with a sudden strafing maneuvers, peppering the assault helicopters with high grade ordnance only the Imperium could muster. The remaining three began to strafe targets of opportunity on the hillside. The enemy would know fear this day, as what a space marine would say but today was the Imperial Guards glory. And they were going to prove that even the Guard can win battles without the assistance of the space marines. and with that in mind, the squads of Imperial soldiers on the ground cheered and began to fight with renewed vigor.

A one-sided argument on open commlinks breached the noise floor gaining volume as the source approached, "Quit your whining about Xenos I could still drop you! You're lucky I work for your false queen's contract! Operational merc, currently call sign Charlie Sierra Victor Six. Because I take contracts remotely. Yes, Fine. I'll add the ammo to your bill. Up you go. So I can see if they're checking fire or not so I don't get shot! Have fun! Call me on commlink if you don't die!"

Upside down and clung to the bridge one of Jaunt's sharp front legs extended and flexed around an imperial guard blown off the bridge elsewhere by a round of explosions. The repeater sown into the side of his cephalothorax was repeating for Jaunt as it rather lacked vocal cords. He doubled back shortly after the RPG fire started tearing stone out of the bridge. The hairy brown hook legs tethered with ceramite plates slapped up to hook a crumbling bridge edge to brace with as the several eyed spider chucked the guard back over the ledge. The uniformed man arced high over the wall then landed falling on his ass.

Jaunt scurried away to avoid potential fire. It wasn't hard to figure out where the giant tank was on the bridge. He had a feeling it was the same ones that shot up the group it was looking over. At least he had some intel to give the contractor. Jaunt patiently waited on the underside crammed between struts below the bridge. A partly red bump covered in haphazard flak and ceramite with guns strapped onto quick release mounts. The sawtooth front legs removed a heavy reciprocating bolter with a long shock-stabilizing arm mount on the sides he could clamp his sawteeth into. If that heli he heard tried flying under the bridge it'd get a nasty surprise. Jaunt idly watched bridge pieces and dead people fall into the oblivion below.