RP: NSS Acadia [Mission 4]: Heads of the Beast

What had Jack been thinking?!

That grenade had been a total waste: sure they had walked in unpowered armor for training but they had never practiced using anything like grenades in it. He was far too used to either powered armor or going in just body armor when it came to that sort of thing. However, Jack had bigger fish to fry so-to-speak. The gunfire was like thunder in his ears as the zombies before him began to recover from the effects of his unintentional 'flash bang' from the Panzerfaust. Almost immediately as the thirty or so that were left began to open fire, Jack got to watch as his monoeyes activated, giving him a flicker of hope...until the eye was torn off by one of the ever so painful high caliber rounds.

Jack didn't even have time to look back at the guards to see their condition as his right leg jammed up, now preventing him from advancing or retreating. He could sit down with the best of them now, but he couldn't really move anymore: nor could he take the time to dislodge the bullets. To add to this mess it had taken him no time at all to see that his shotgun was now undeniably useless...seeing as it was now palm-sized. Jack suddenly found himself overwhelmed with an odd sense of calm: he was an ID-SOL, planned from conception for something like this. While some of his new squad mates were clones and one was in fact an ID-SOL, very few were 'raised' like Jack.

If he died...it wouldn't amount to much for anybody save for maybe one or two emotionally attached scientists. Sure he would be buying the senators some valuable time and he had inspired maybe a small flicker of hope in to the guards behind him but when he died there would simply be another Jack Hayden, if not under the same name, who would be put in to the Corp to replace him. Jack suddenly felt at peace and he suddenly lost all senses of fear or emotion: there was only the pain and the programmed sensation to kill his enemies.

Standing his ground, Jack drew his High Hybrid Gun, and took aim at the nearest of the scum-bags: assuming as good a traditional shooter's stance as he could with a disabled leg. He didn't even seem to notice the Marine-driven monster truck as it came bearing down on the zombies ahead of him.

Chad jumped into the truck, felt the vehicle sink as the multi-ton PA's piled in, and checked his STAR as the behemoth auto crushed several cars on its way over the road block. The shit was soon gonna hit the fan, and that meant big awesome gun time.

As Kajiim drove the truck towards the senate building he saw some pretty awesome going ons ahead.

Kneeled on the Senatorial lawn with a HHG, was his roomie Hayden. But that wasnt the main problem belive it or not. In front of him was forty or so very mean, and less stupid looking zombies armed to the teeth fireing on his roomie. HIS ROOMIE! So Chad did what any semi-buzzed soldier would do if in this situation. He swithed to three shot burst, felt the mono-eyes kick in, punched out the windshield, and rained hell down on the fuckers, all while screaming "WE'RE COMING MAN!! BRO'S BEFORE HOES ROOMIE!!!!".

After all, if Jack died, who would be the butt of the jokes?

"Let's move!" shouted Chief Ran. With the vehicle neutralized, the squad began to advance down the street. Phaedra advanced immediately behind Harrison and Anselm, her eyes constantly scanning her surroundings. Her occular implant was set to infrared, and half of her vision was a flickering painting of heat signatures. She paid particular attention to the windows on the upper storeys of the buildings nearby; any one of the windows potentially harbored an armed assailant.

Despite the danger, Phaedra was enjoying the absence of her PA. Off in the distance Phaedra heard gunfire and she felt the first tinges of adrenaline seep in; her body remembering instincts stamped on her from training

"Back to the basics," thought Phaedra.

"Alright, Sir," Henry said, having remained fairly quiet and in the background as he didn't contribute much fire, though he'd spent a magazine of his Styrling DART in providing covering fire. Now, he had to take some other measures.

He decided to join Anslem and Harrison to cover their flanks whilst keeping a low profile. He unhooked his custom-made rifle from his back, and cradled it with relative ease, getting a feel for the weight.
"Sorry I'm late," He told the duo in a hushed whisper, "I have a few grenades with some extra oomph in case we encounter heavy resistance, say, a Ripper."

The pair of Scalar Pulse and EMP grenades, along with the single Subspace Particle marker grenade strapped to his belt were starting to feel a bit heavy as he continued on, crouched low with Harrison and Anslem, and his marksman rifle raised.

He kept an eye out on the guy's flanks, turning his head to watch their backs frequently.

Sean stayed back a bit, reasoning that he could attempt to suppress anything that appeared close to the point men from this distance. He glanced at his chain, making sure it was feeding properly, and then poked his fire selector to make sure it was on full-auto. Running out of ammo wouldn't matter nearly as much as losing men and not making it in time. Plus, he still had a full belt to spare, so he could afford to spend a bit.

Talbain watched the car turn to a heap of slag before the chief even finished his orders. Hefting his weapon he fell in with the rest of the squad trying to keep enough distance so that one explosive wouldn't take out the whole squad. He couldn't help but wonder if dragging along the type 1 had been excessive.

Like the Horsemen of the Apocalypse and their steed, Kajiim Ashad rolled his monster truck across the once painstakingly manicured lawn, leaving a blight of deep tracks of crushed grass and upturned earth in its wake. Fire from the zombies momentarily diverted from Jack and the security forces to the incoming vehicle that was about to roll up the flank. While the windshield was completely spiderwebbed from the bullets, it was bulletproof. Fiery bursts from Chad's fully automatic weapon met no such barrier, and thus gunned down a minuscule amount of zombies compared to what was about to happen next.

The monster truck dipped into a crater just at the edge of the lawn, but no matter, at full speed the momentum of the vehicle turned the upward inclination at the end of that crater into a launch ramp, propelling the truck into the crowd with a diabolical hunger.There was really nothing else to describe what happened next except wholesale slaughter. The zombies already developing tentacles were obviously the enemy, but some of the marines might have felt hesitation at the recently infected who still looked like they were still in control of their minds. But like death the truck felt no pause nor made no distinction. Twenty zombies would be cut down like wheat before the Kajiim cleared the pavement, except where there would be clean stalks, there was nothing more but mangled bodies and mincemeat.

If Jack wasn't wondering if he fired a RED or a REDneck bullet from his HHG, he could hear one of the security personnel throwing up behind him. The surviving twenty zombies immediately put some distance between each of them to avoid a repeat of the massacre. In the meantime the Nanomuscle and Hydraulics system of the Power Armors would be restored, freeing the Greenhorns from the weight on their shoulders.

He said move, so Viktor Kingston was moving after another glance at the pile of wreckage still chugging down the highway. He could almost hear it groaning, I think I can, I think I can, I think I can...

Back to more important things, P1C Kingston was toward the back of the unit, which was probably best considering his weapons of choice. He continued to keep his eyes upward, focusing on top story windows and rooftops. Any small, seemingly "out of the way" locales were also on his checklist.

So far, so good, if one could excuse the insane cacophony of sounds not too far off. He wondered how much of the ruckus was because of the recruits.

Jack went wide-eyed, all sense of thought or emotion flooding from him as he saw the monster truck. He was able to see it entering the edge of his vision just as it came in to the downward angle of it's small jump, smashing in to the zombies in a bloody shower of gore, flesh, and bone that would have made a weaker man barf...however since Jack hadn't paid much attention to the effect of his hand-cannon's work, he interpreted the guard behind him to be one of those 'weaker men' who couldn't stand such sights.

Regardless, Jack's mind was torn from all of his as he suddenly felt the pressure that had been all around him from the armor lifting away with the powering up of the suit's hydraulic systems and nanomusculature systems. This meant that the removal of the bullets lodged in his standing leg would be much easier, solved by simply bending his right knee in order to release the pressure of the plates pinning the bullets in to place. Now Jack felt more confident, standing up in his dented armor, paint blasted away in a sheer volley of hostile rounds that had served to put Jack in to a world of hurt.

Jack looked back to the security guards.

"Are there any surviving senators?" He asked over the resuming gunfire.

Now with the arrival of his fellow soldiers, Jack wasn't taking the full brunt of the infected hordes attention. However, instead of just standing there and waiting for the guards to answer Jack looked back to the advancing horde, dropped to one knee, reloaded, and continued firing high explosive rounds in to the crowd with careful precision. As soon as possible he planned to 'acquire' one of their weapons and all the ammo for it that he could carry.

Flying through the sky and into the group of zombies Kajiim had no time for words just pure laughter. After the crimson rain had subsidded and the truck had come to a halt, Kajiim felt the weight of his armor no more. Kicking open the door and aiming his shotgun at the zombies right outside he unloaded into the crowd all while shouting, "Move! Move! Move!" After moving behind the truck he called out to Jack, "How ya holdin' up buddy?" Reloading his shotgun he waited for more zombies.

The awesomeness that follows is a direct contribution from the badassness of Nepleslian Marines, high or not:

Chad was totally floored by the coolness that the conviently placed crater added to the butchering of before mentioned zombies. He was still fireing, (this time more out the window because everything in front of the truck was now permenantly deceased), and screaming about how 'you shouldn't mess with my roomie', and other shenanigans along that line. But the fun never ceased to stop.

Chad had never seen so much disgustingly nasty blood in guts in such quantity, and it was possibly, he decided mentally, the coolest thing he had seen in a very long time. And as they crashed through the last few zombies between the now redneck occupants, and Jack, he felt all the wieght that had previously been a buzz kill, cease to exist.

He smashed out of the truck as best he could, fireing into the remaining twenty or so zombies. When he reached Jack and Kajiim, he through the STAR he had brought at Jack's feet. "Take it," he said to the rifle's new owner, "you need it more than I do right now." And as he gave the STAR to Jack, he unslung his HPAR and let the zombie SOB's eat the molten coin round in full auto. His new strength gave him the speed he needed in the AIR2 to roll and dodge when needed, and even when it wasn't he did it anyway just to make this a more reverent memory.

As far as Chad could see, he was invincible, and nothing could screw him or his team now. All that was left was to grab the senators and get the heck off this rock.

As the ground squad advanced upon the next building, they would notice several other squads of Marines advancing along different avenues. One was currently in cover along the north wall of the building east to the next destination, providing covering fire for the other squads that would advance across the street.

The next building would come into view; nothing special, considering the area the squad was hitting. It was another tall, gray apartment complex, the only real distinguishing features of which would be the random marks on the building where rounds impacted, or the different way barbed wire was placed around the property.

The sound of gunfire was coming from within the apartment complex, mixed in with the random shouting of Marines within the structure.

As soon as the pointman in the squad reached the corner of the building they were advancing along, he would notice that the street running east to west was littered with random cars. Some were well-rusted and simply neglected; others were the result of gunfire. Either way, they would make for adequate cover.

Further west along the road were other Marines in heavy cover, exchanging shots with a few hostile shooters from across the street.

"These boys got us covered pretty good, but I want our heavy weapon and a sharpshooter on this corner." The Chief pointed to the corner of the building. "Marines will advance in pairs and take cover behind these vehicles. We'll leapfrog our way down to the building. Anselm, Volkov, you're on this corner. Harrison, you're going first. Pick a partner."

"Roger, Chief, this baby should be able to punch through walls, so call it where you want it," Anselm bragged, letting Phaedra take her choice among the assorted cover while he watched the roofs and balconies for hostiles. Once the sniper was in position, the heavy-set marine would take aim at the enemy-occupied building down the street and test the HPAR's modified firepower on its walls, putting a horizontal line of four coins into the structure's east face.

"Let's see how they like stucco and heavy metal in their wheaties."

The issue with the vehicle had been taken care of before Sam could even react; she cursed her reflexes as the other marines squeezed off their rounds. She reasoned, though, that she should save her ammunition for longer-range targets.

The sniper advanced with the rest of the group, occasionally stopping to sweep her scope over nearby windows. She had to run to catch up with the group, but she wasn't about to let any enemy sniper blast off her compatriots' heads.

When Ran ordered them to pair up, she eyed the rest of the squad with a frown, waiting for the inevitable last remaining person she would end up with.

"Anselm, Volkov, you're on this corner," said the Chief.

Phaedra rushed past Anselm and situated herself behind one of the destroyed vehicles. Despite lacking a sniper rifle, the GSAR was stable and accurate assault rifle and Phaedra's cybernetic eye possessed a telescopic function. She aimed the GSAR at the opposite building, scanning for the tell-tale signs of heat signatures. She quickly signaled her comrades forward with a quick motion of her hand.

The Chief said:

"...Harrison, you're going first. Pick a partner."

Click to expand...

Henry made a nod towards Harrison as he hefted his rifle with a smile, "I'll watch this man's back." He volunteered.

He then realised that his rifle might not be an ideal choice, instead opting to switch over to his Styrling Dart. He pulled the bolt back and chambered a round, ready to fire.

He took a closer look at the surroundings of the building, looking for any possible points of entry from an armour. The area, whilst seeming to provide ample cover from melee combatants and zombies, would be a slaughtering field for anyone power armour.
"Hmm..." He thought aloud, contemplating the nature of the field ahead, "Best we keep our eyes open, as always." He murmured.

"I'll go check on them." One of the Security Guards responded to Hayden's query, pretty much free from suppressing fire of any sort he ran up the main steps to the broken Senate building.

With his now powered limbs handling the weapon and his remaining right Monoeye unit guiding hit, each of his RED bullets fired out of the powerful and accurate HHG were spot on. One zombie wearing a helmet deflected much of the blast away, but the next bullet entered it's face and sent part of the cranium and said helmet flying. The next two HE-tipped bullets that the ID-SOL fired claimed individual targets.

As though someone planted a bomb in the truck, both doors on either side of the cab were flung out of their hinges and flew a good twenty feet, except there was no explosion and the bombs were Kajiim and Chad exiting the vehicle forcefully. Like the doors the zombies didn't stand a chance to two trained marines in Power Armor. The pitiful fire that they directed and divided towards the two Greenhorns did not even contain the high-caliber shots that made Jack's life a living hell.

Kajiim's shotgun was designed with soft targets like the zombies in mind, Chad's HPAR was more geared towards armored targets, but the damage it could do was more than sufficient anyways. The only recently powered up PLA/SLA Missile Interception Systems also contributed to the mopping. The remaining zombies were melted, pelted, penetrated or otherwise killed. All in a day's work for the Marines.

For now there was peace in the front lawn of the Senate.

While Ran's squad was busy leapfrogging from cover to cover, the sound of a single gunshot down the street from the squad would have meant that the recon team in the building down the street were just taking down random hostiles.

Multiple, almost frantic shots from the same building would alert the squad that something rather big was coming their way. And if that did not get the Marines ready, a rocket shooting into the window of the Marine recon team would do the trick.

The sounds of several small vehicles filled the air soon after, mixed in with the shouts of a sizable crowd moving in the direction of Ran's squad. Soon, there were multiple smaller vehicles which made a hard turn onto their street.

Two trucks with various heavy weapons bolted to the bed stopped at the end of the street, while three small cars raced past them towards the Marines.

The two trucks were unremarkable, save for the fact that each had a light machine gun bolted on a rotating turret to the bed, manned by a single gunner.

Each car, however, had several metal plates bolted to their side doors, some even having them hung haphazardly by hooks above the windshields. Inside each one were 3-4 gunmen, who would momentarily open each door and stick a small pistol or SMG out and blind-fire it at the Marines.

The squad behind Ran's providing cover for his squad soon opened up on the cars before being suppressed by the hostile trucks.

"Sharpshooters and heavy weapons on those trucks! Everyone else, stop those cars!" Was Ran's only order as he dashed out into the street, nearly bowling over a random Marine as he slid behind the cover of an upturned car, only to get back up and fire a few slugs at an incoming car.

"And this," Anselm grinned, taking cover behind the front of a car, using the solid engine block as cover more than the car's bodywork and unloading the currency of war into the oncoming vehicles, "is why I never go anywhere without a big gun."

The HPAR barked several times as it unleashed single blasts of molten metal at the trucks, its user aiming more to cause maximum damage to the vehicles themselves than take out the crew one by one. By taking out the forward vehicle first, the marine would be creating a standard roadblock with the enemy's own forces that would keep them at long range where the squad's snipers and heavy support (like himself) would be most effective and best protected from unfriendly the pistol ammunition flying uprange.

"Volkov, remind me to submit ideas for squad-sized versions of these guns to those Reps."

Jack took the rifle wordlessly, simply giving a small nod to Chad as the last of the zombies were torn to ribbons. Without the constant thrumming of high caliber rounds that had made Jack's life a living hell a few moments before, the ID-SOL combat medic was able to begin evaluating the condition he was in from such a beating. Admittedly he hurt all over but he was trained in medical school to see past even that pain for the real pain in his body.

There was a sharp pain at the base of his rib-cage: that most likely meant one or two were broken or fractured.

Besides this, all of Jack's medical training told him that he probably should have been able to curl his left pinky finger in to a fist with the rest of his hands without a searing pain.

Jack's job wasn't done, though. He couldn't afford to just sit down and "take five" because of a few broken bones: he would just have to deal with it until he, or preferably another medic for ease of movement, could start patching him up.

"That's probably not all of them." Jack looked to Chad and Kajiim "I suggest we hold this ground until our radios come back on, then tell the Chief were we are if he doesn't already know."