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Act of Conspiracy, Chapter XI: Ecumenical Cataclysm
Posted By: russ687<russ687@hotmail.com>
Date: 18 April 2005, 5:59 AM
Read/Post Comments
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Chapter XI
Ecumenical Cataclysm
December 31, 2524
City of Standyle, Capital City
Pacificatorius, Atropos System
National Assembly Government Building, City Center
"Give me the news, and give it to me quickly."
The Defense Advisor nodded, but the look of apprehension quickly devoured any hope that this sudden event was anything of a manageable or lesser extent. Rarely had the top executive staff been called to a meeting with such urgency, especially before the sun even broke above the horizon, and such an occurrence brought on a new wave of fear and concern for everyone.
The last week had held an uncomfortable amount of surprises for them, as well as much frustration and exasperation to the continual attacks and defeats they suffered in the wake of this insurgency. Every hour of sleep was countered by several awake, watching the law and order of the world they governed shatter to pieces as hundreds perished between too unyielding forces fighting for the power of a populace that was divided among them.
Despite the optimistic feedback from the departments in the field and with the citizens, many highly doubted the high returns of favor for the State. Free-press reported over and over again the growing support for the GDSO and their ideals, and the shred of support remaining in the State's favor was turning into a fraction by the day. It was almost hard to understand how seemingly respectable citizens would put their support in a terrorist organization, but the logic was clearly found in an illogical source; psychology.
The very essence of the mind was never concrete, and the average citizen could easily be swayed by proper and well-placed information. The mind, the individual "logic"—the mysterious depths of thought—never behaved in a purely predictable way, leaving them with a very unstable base of support from the very people they fought to save. Was there away to overcome this? Obviously there was.
To fight fire with fire.
Perhaps their best course of action was to put more emphasis on swaying back the support of the people rather then trying to break down their opposition. People want nothing more than to throw themselves behind a dying cause; a very surreal sense of value came along with it. Maybe the answer lay in a less direct approach, a path that led not to the enemy's camp, but to the minds and wills of those who stood between.
"Well?"
The Defense Advisor shook his head and focused on the task at hand, suffering dearly for the very few hours of sleep over the last several nights. The Executive Chairwoman looked intently at him, waiting impatiently for the true reason behind this hasty meeting. The weary look on her face was less than desirable, and he could feel the tension roll off her lips. She was never pleasant during the day, and in the early hours of the morning there was no improvement.
"Word has just come in revealing that the GDSO has in fact launched a multi-front attack against numerous utility facilities around the continent, and despite the apparent anticipation of this by the Department of International Security, and furthermore the National Guard, there was no way to fully protect every site. From what we know thus far, thirty-five facilities were targeted, and as of midnight, three were successfully attacked and compromised."
"Damnit." The Chief of Staff replied, rubbing his forehead. The General looked tired and short-strung, his tie loosened characteristically and the sleeves pulled up to his elbows. The veteran soldier would never lose his state of mind, especially in front of his peers and superiors, but the obvious disgruntlement was something beyond the General's self-control. The feeling was unfortunately contagious, and the rest stared at him, beginning to conspire similar feelings of their own.
"What sites—"
The Executive Chairwoman was cut off as the door opened into the large office. Security agents held the door as several men entered, their appearance ruffled yet understandable for the early hour. The National Security Advisor and the Department of International Security Director, flanked by two aides, nodded courteously and took their seats. The two men were the top advisors to domestic and inter-planetary security affairs, and their presence at such a meeting was not only mandatory, but needed.
The Chairwoman waited for their full attention before continuing. "What sites were compromised?"
The Defense Advisor flipped the page in front of him. "The Secondary Petroleum Refinery—not fatally crucial—the Levitian Port Armory, and the Federal Biological Research Center."
"Which means...?"
The National Security Advisor cut in to answer the question. "As the Defense Advisor has noted, the former-most facility is not paramount, but the latter two do hold a defining grip on our short-term future. I've just read over the preliminary reports, and our analysis's declare that the Levitian Port Armory can have an effect on our weaponry status for the nearby military base after the next two days. Under a snap executive decision by the Chief of Staff—" He looked over to see a nod from the General. "The military units there are temporarily refraining from counter-offensive measures to retake the armory."
"And the logic behind that," the Chief of Staff added. "Is that I don't want anyone to jump the gun before we hear what type of response they're looking from us and what possible threats they have against the State. Dozen were no doubt killed, but they might have hostages."
The Chairwoman nodded. "Understandable."
"Yes," the National Security Advisor agreed, regaining all attention. "Now as for the last facility attacked, the Biological Research complex, we could be looking at a much more significant and intricate situation. I'm sure you're aware about some of the projects currently underway there..."
The Executive Chairwoman looked at her own aid in question. "No, I do not."
The Defense Advisor leaned back in his chair, watching this can of worms unfold before his eyes. Very confidential and sensitive material was obviously being withheld from the Chairwoman at someone's discretion, for what reason he could only speculate. He probably didn't even know the full extent of what was being conducted under tight federal supervision at that facility, but he knew enough to allude to the precarious reasoning behind the deliberate silencing of the topic.
The National Security Advisor looked over at the DIS Director, a combination of inquisition and delusion on his face. The silent and unmistakable gesture brought a new reaction from the Chairwoman, who straightened up in her chair. Both the men noticed the nonverbal movement, which brought another wave of tension into the large room.
"What are you not telling me?" The Chairwoman's voice was emphatic.
The DIS Director sighed, rubbing his eyes. "There has been several ongoing projects that began before your term even started. For general security reasons, non of these have been brought to your attention, but believe, this is on a need to know basis. Had you actually needed this information, you would have gotten it."
"Perhaps." The response was less than desirable.
"Regardless of the confidential measures we put behind it, now would be an appropriate time to share this information. It does, quite unfortunately, involve the future security of the State, and unless we can take suitable measures to defend against this, we may be looking at a very...deleterious future."
"Then do explain," the Chairwoman prodded, agitation clear in her voice.
There was a pause before the Director continued. "The Federal Biological Research Facility currently has one black-project under operational development. The project was initiated in 2517, under an international collaboration to develop a new method of surgically dealing with combat threats under extremely hostile conditions. The conceptual goal of this was to eliminate the need for mass attacks with high numbers of soldiers in the face of a large opposition force in a relatively contained area.
"Details aside, this project, once finalized, will give us the ability to target an area and completely neutralize over ninety-five percent of living beings within the area at no damage to the surrounding environment and with no post or long term effects."
The Defense Advisor thought while a brief pause ensued. A capability to eradicate an enemy without damaging the surroundings? It almost sounded too good to be true, or at the very least, too effective to be true. "Earlier you mentioned an 'international collaboration', by that you mean...?"
"Under a UNSC directive."
"Hell," the Chief of Staff spoke up. "I didn't know we are funding or aiding the Space Command in any weapon developments."
"Like I said, General, on a need to know basis."
The Defense Advisor loosened his tie a little more. "How can this even be possible?"
The Director looked back. "Mere details, that's all we're discussing now. The important thing to focus on is that this project is in a nearly operational state—the initial trials of it proved very effective—and those terrorists now posses it, and therefore posses a capability to kill millions."
The ensuing silence was exasperating, with every member and aide consciously thinking about the impending doom that seemed to hover over their heads. Just the very potentiality that these terrorists had the capability to eradicate thousands from existence was distressing, and each mind began producing the sickening effects of fear, since the very weapon that was formerly in the State's hands—ready for use against the State's enemies, not the State itself—could very well be aimed and ready for operation against the building and city they currently resided in.
The initial attacks by the GDSO had left them in shock, but at the very least they had to have the power to defend themselves. That mentality had been proven wrong very quickly as the terror group dealt countless blows against the State departments, as well as propaganda tactics to bolster their public support—the New Sodham set-up undeniable proof of that. The war waged against them was sonorously not in their favor.
Such a situation was a historical repeat; the very essential proof that guerilla and intra tactics were seemingly impossible to counter in a populated environment, where the enemy hid behind millions of faces. This was no clean war, in contrast to what many historians now prescribed the first and second World Wars over five centuries ago as, and this was seemingly even surpassing the vicious and covert war experienced on the verge of inter-System colonization in the late 2100's.
Countless skirmishes have raged on over Humanity's history, and a good portion involved terrorist tactics. Yet despite this apparent experience, it was nothing more than ostensible memories that only served as bitter reminders to the horrifying attempts to win a war of this nature.
Do you detain every suspect? Do you draw in every face that may slightly resemble a sympathizer to such an illicit cause? Do you resort to crude discrimination tactics and neutralization of personal rights to counter such a threat? At what point was it too much, but by that crux, how much would be enough?
What could be done to win?
"The best thing we can do is sit tight."
All eyes were drawn to the DIS Director.
"I have already launched a counter."
Federal Biological and Chemical Research Center (720 Kilometers South of Standyle)
Randy Brient carefully kept the G55K up and scanning as he stepped over short bushes, covering the saturated ground as Blue Team approached the inner-perimeter of the complex. The dense downpour was well in their favor, limiting visibility and masking any possible sound as they closed to within fifty-meters of the first building.
The shades of green through his night-vision goggles gave him an unimpaired view despite the early morning darkness, and the air support circling silently overhead broadcasted infra-red information to assist in locating any living body. His team, along with the other three, we fully prepared to handle the threat handed to them, but with this assignment came an unprecedented amount of caution.
The flight over just a couple hours ago was nothing more than a drawn out briefing, going over Intel reports and complex schematics. The simplicity, however—simplicity by their terms—was lost as the revelation was announced prior to touching down. The research facility held more than scientific projects; it was home to a very dark programme operated by the State but backed by the UNSC. It was startling, to say the least, but even more lurid was the true purpose behind this black-project.
Still nameless, and perhaps forever more, the project was a weapon. An instrument capable of eliminating life without implicating any soldiers on the ground or causing structural collateral damage. While nerve gases and toxins had a similar capability, this project differed by leaving no traces within an hour of its use. It apparently took just under ten minutes to kill, and the substance—if it could be considered a substance—receded into the atmosphere and earth as if never existing. The thought of such a weapon was shocking, and just hearing of its potential filled the mind with fear.
They needed to stop these terrorists from obtaining or furthermore threatening the State with it. The incidents with the GDSO, most notably New Sodham where he had lost good men to their deception, proved all the more that the GDSO was not willing to kill thousands of innocents for their cause, but were ready to make the threat. However, if they were still willing to fulminate the populace and the State with such a weapon backing them up—especially in the wake of the Dalmaeter Cascade raid and the interdiction of over thirty terrorist teams—there was a higher probability than not that their threat would turn real.
They were not going to allow them even the possibility of using it.
"Red Team, covering at Alpha."
"Green Team, covering at Alpha."
"Gold Team, holding at Alpha."
It was time. Basic estimations gave them about two minutes maximum before the terrorists around the weapon, temporarily codenamed Chieftain, would know and then react to the onslaught by the counter-terror teams clearing the buildings. From what he had heard, however, there was no way to launch it to any city from underground, so the maximum collateral damage would be the deaths of those within its reach.
Brient took a deep breath. "All units—"
"Flash!" The voice from White Sniper cut him off. "Eyes on Chieftain."
What? Randy quickly looked around to try and locate the weapon, but it obviously wasn't in his line of sight. Regardless, what was it doing on the surface where his snipers could see it?
"SITREP."
The reply was quick and professional, but he could detect the surprise in the sniper's deep voice. "Chieftain is on top of building number three, with six Tango's working around it. It appears as if they're erecting some sort of apparatus nearby on the rooftop."
"All units, standby." Brient scanned the rooftops with his 4x ALOS sight. Nothing could be seen, but he didn't have a good view of Building Three; Blue Team was actually on the opposite side of the complex. Only Green Team was really near it, and they hadn't reported anything.
"Romeo One, anything?"
The technician circling five hundred meters above responded after a short line of silence. "Negative, Blue Leader. Building Three is the coolant and air supply building, and there are massive amounts of heat returns from the rooftop—IR is ineffective at that location."
Damnit. "White, give me your best idea on what they're setting up."
There was a minute of silence before the reply came. "Some sort of launch device, perhaps a launch rack; looks to be about three meters tall." There was another pause. "They've just brought a long, cylindrical object onto the rooftop, looks like a rocket."
"Blue Leader, Green Leader, I have eyes on a rocket-type device being erected on the rooftop of Building Three. Chieftain is not on it, but I have an inclination that they plan on putting it there."
They were preparing to fire off this new, still in development weapon? What were they thinking? The possibilities ran through his mind as he crouched in the relentless downpour. Perhaps they were setting it up to complete a threat—a threat still to be made against the State. Either way, whether they planned on launching it as soon as possible or just getting it into position, it left millions of citizens vulnerable to an epidemic unlike any other.
"Green Team, move to secure the building. Red Team, move to cover. Gold Team, move to cover the rest of the buildings. Blue Team is en route to Building Three. Snipers, do not fire"
He motioned quickly for his team to stand up, and began moving for his new objective. There was no one outside, which left him a clear path to the two-story building just over a hundred meters away. They crouched silently pass smaller buildings and shacks, and kept clear of the bright streetlights that illuminated the asphalt roads and parking lots. The darkness was their cover as they closed the distance, and the rain muffled any chance of them being heard.
"Green Team, entering first story of Building Three."
Brient forced himself to move faster. The heavy Kevlar didn't help, but he was trained to run even moderate distances with all his gear on. Kautz and the rest kept close behind him, their rifles up and covering their ingress, the skill and precision apparent in just their simple, fluid movement towards the featureless structure.
"Contact—" There was a pause. "Two Tango's down, first story clear."
Blue Team reached the entry point to the building and moved in quickly, removing their night vision goggles and taking faith in the report that everyone on this initial floor had been neutralized. Not a sound was heard from the quick encounter, the long silencers on the G55K's keeping any possible trace of firing from existence.
The well lit hallway ahead of them was empty, and continued on for a distance, but Brient quickly veered left and up the flight of stairs leading to the second level. Green Team wasn't far ahead now, so his movements became more cautious as he stared down yet another hallway, most of the doors closed, but two at the far end ominously open and leading to dark rooms.
He checked left, then right down the perpendicular hallway, then moved forward, his footsteps eerily audible as he passed by closed doors. The white walls, floor and ceiling made the aisle bright, and the featurelessness was stereotypical with research facilities. Except for the mud trail left by their own boots behind them, the building was spotless.
They neared the two open doors, one on each side at the very end. Kautz stepped forward and right, picking which room he would enter, and Brient moved for the left door. He quickly activated the powerful tactical light at the end of the rifle, then pressed into the room, one member from his team right behind and scanning.
In the far off corner was a desk light on a table, a briefcase and several papers scattered on top of it. Except for that dull, isolated light, the room was pitch black, and the powerful beams quickly flushed the area back and forth for any enemies. Nothing appeared, and they moved around desks and chairs for the table.
"Second floor is clear," Green Leader reported. "Moving for the roof."
"Negative, hold your position." Brient transmitted immediately. "Standby."
He stopped next to the table and looked at the papers, scanning what he could in the little time allotted for anything of significance. It was technical data on some project, and was obviously not from the terrorists but rather from someone who worked here at the complex.
"We got a scene."
He turned at the statement from his partner to look at the beam illuminating a single dead man, blood splattered all over his white long-coat. Randy stepped over, in surprise that he hadn't caught this before, and looked at the tag sticking off the lab coat.
Henry Pollington, Project 114 Leader.
A quick glance back at the papers scattered about answered the question that popped into his mind immediately. These insurgents had located the man in charge of the weapon project, and had somehow learned some very applicable information about it. Maybe they were planning on using it.
"Kautz, one me! Green Team, standby for our arrival before proceeding to the roof."
Brient moved out of the room quickly, ignoring any tactility of stealth. Time was now of the essence, not thorough and safe searches. He wasn't sure how much time remained before whatever rocket device became operational on the rooftop above him, but he had to assume the worst; and the worst put them staring at the launch of an epidemic.
Blue Team, fully reformed, rounded the corner of the hallway and stopped briefly at the base of the stairs, Green Team in stacking order and waiting to proceed. A quick nod to the other team leader, and both groups began ascending the last flight of stairs to the roof, G55K's up and scanning. They actually outnumbered their enemy this time, but even that odd could not secure a complete and decisive victory.
They arrived at the top and only a single, closed door awaited. Nothing stood between them and this foe; a threat that may be willing to sacrifice thousands for their cause. Sympathy or understanding for these terrorist's mentality didn't exist, not from behind a long rifle with a trained finger resting on a delicate trigger. Any time for diplomacy was over, and any attempt to negotiate had now faded into the thick, wet night. Only the fine yet horrible art of killing could bring resolution to this equation.
The door kicked open.
Charles Mahler looked at the flat screen in front of him, intently watching from White Sniper's view as his best specialists burst suddenly onto the rooftop, ready to clear all the insurgents. While only his sniper had been able to spot such a collaboration on Building Three, he had full faith in his men that they were indeed tracking down the weapon and the terrorists preparing to use it.
Infra-red was inoperable at that rooftop, due to massive heat exhausts located there, and night vision was useless as they flew through thick, turbulent clouds five hundred meters above. Regardless of their own impaired abilities, his men were trained and ready to operate without his support, and their judgment calls were inherently as good as his.
He couldn't help but let his mind wander, however. It seemed too easy, or too obvious, that they would extract Chieftain to a roof, set up some sort of firing mechanism, and do it all in plain sight. Surely they had to expect some sort of State retaliation on them; would they be so na•ve as to overlook or underestimate their timely response?
No, that was impossible. The GDSO was composed of capable and competent members, and history had proved their lethal effectiveness and ability to brilliantly strategize. They had to be missing something, there had to be something out there that had passed undetected. What was he overlooking?
These terrorists had two hours since their time of ingress of the complex to now, which was probably enough time to locate the weapon and transport it at least out of the facility area. Nearly the entire area was reinforced with National Guard units, so there was no way to escape the perimeter, but there were still acres of dark terrain between the facilities and the perimeter.
"Do a wide-spectrum India Romeo search of the area surrounding the buildings."
The technician behind him paused for a second in question, but conceded and followed Mahler's order. On the nose of the helicopter and on the very bottom, the IR devices began sweeping back and forth, combing the terrain below for any disorderly returns of heat. Such a perquisition was not quick, and the seconds that passed seemed to be extraordinary leaps for his enemy to escape.
"Blue Leader to Romeo One, rooftop secure, I say again, Building Three rooftop is secure." There was a pause from the heavy breathing transmitter. "One wounded, not critical."
Mahler sighed in relief. There were still more out there, no doubt, but at least this small feat without loss of life was some good sign. He rubbed his palms together, unconsciously trying to eradicate the sweat from his hands. The stress and anxiety of these missions was something he would never overcome, and only the deep breathe at the very end could relieve the pent up apprehension.
He craned his neck and looked back at the technician.
"There we go," the man replied. "I got an unidentified vehicle southbound over rough terrain half a click south of the complex. Looks like four men total; the vehicle is a large truck."
He was overcome with both relief for confirming his suspicions and a wave of new fear. Those insurgents were not patrolling, nor trying to escape in fear of capture by the State. They had something, perhaps the most crucial and important factor that could come into play during this operation.
"Track the contact," he ordered the pilot sitting next to him. "Descend under these damn clouds."
The craft turned sharply and accelerated as it descended. Mahler severed the connection from his sniper's camera and patched the IR feed from the craft to his screen. The vehicle was moving steadily southward, and it was easy to pick out the four occupants; any cargo, however, was not discernable.
"Blue Leader, Romeo One, we're tracking a vehicle expediting from the area—"
"And I think I know why."
Mahler was surprised at the sudden return from Randy Brient.
"The object on Building Three is not Chieftain."
Noronha held on tightly as the large truck lurched violently, traversing over rough, off-road terrain. With no headlights, the ride was bumpy and somewhat unnerving, but driving like this was essential for their covert egress from the complex to a remote site where they could set up the true launch mechanism for this weapon.
He could not decide if he was going to use it or not; his superiors had left that decision up to him, not quite knowing what to do themselves. He was going to broadcast the demands once they were set up over a common television frequency, and hopefully they would be met, eliminating any reason for this wrong and indiscriminate weapon to be used.
His lone man left several miles from the perimeter had called him just over fifteen minutes ago, informing him that the State had finally responded, and that National Guard units were closing in on the complex. The man, unfortunately a faceless one he would never know, had gallantly volunteered for it, and was no doubt being apprehended at this very moment. But that was just what the GDSO needed, good men to sacrifice their lives for the good of their cause; wasn't he doing the very same thing?
"This is good." He said solemnly, motioning for his driver to stop. The truck slowed down suddenly and turned. He waved for his comrades to jump out and begin setting up the launching mechanism, as well as the transmitter to broadcast their demands. While he held very little hope for his own future, the forthcoming of the GDSO was strong, and he could almost envision the fall of this corrupt State and the rise of true freedom and prosperity.
Perhaps I will live to see that day.
His trio quickly set everything up, despite the awkward and difficult darkness that enveloped them. The rain was less then desirable, but most likely a good thing, keeping them concealed from any nearby eyes. They had made it this far—past the guards, into the complex, and back out here with their objective—and little could stop them now. The rest of his men would perish back at the buildings a kilometer away, but they were prepared and ready. Maybe some of them would live to see their day of victory as well.
"Estamos nos prontos?"
The younger man nodded, turning on the camera and activating the low light capability, pointing it at his superior. This was it, this was their demand for the State to concede and withdraw from power. This was the big step towards finalizing their victory and eradicating all this injustice from the government. A sudden wave of serenity came over him, and he felt an odd peace; only the kind you felt at the end of a long journey.
They had made it.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the Pacificatorius Republic State, I stand before you with a simple order. This simple demand originates from the strife my organization, as well as the millions around this globe, who have suffered intolerable amounts of illicit control and corrupt leadership at the hands of those who have put themselves in power.
"The time of your power, of your regime reign, has come to an end. In these early hours, I proclaim your end, and I demand your withdrawal from authority. Within my capabilities is a weapon that can destroy all of your kind; a weapon of your own composition. I will not hesitate to use this, as the time for games has ended.
"Power will be turned over to the Government Dissimulation from Society Organization, and we will bring about a new age of freedom to all who live on this stricken planet. You will acknowledge this no later than noon of this day, in the form of an international press release."
The small red recording light turned off, and he felt a sense of closure wash over. He had done it, he had obtained the force behind the demand, made the demand, and had now ensured victory for his comrades. A new world order was truly in the making, and he was at the focal point.
"Comrade, congratulations." One of his men walked over, extending an arm. "We have finally won."
His own arm reached out and grasped it. "Indeed, we have."
The helicopter screamed over from out of nowhere, provoking a quick reaction by Noronha and the other three. Curses were sent into the air as the craft disappeared into the darkness, but its whining turbines wailing into the depths of the night. He stood partly in confusion and shock as the sound increased and the craft flew over yet again, causing his men to dive for cover.
"They have found us!"
He turned and crouched over to the launching mechanism, staring at it and the weapon secured expertly at the end. The rocket was preprogrammed to hit Standyle, the center of this government, and if their demands weren't met it was supposed to be the last resort to destroy the State. What good, however, was it if they were killed before any demand could be responded to?
His mind ran through a variety scenarios, all of them involving his death and the utter loss of the threatening capability. He had come so far, and now leaned over the edge of failure. An attack like this was not destined to be repeated by anyone in the future, which meant that his power at this very point in time was the only like it, forever.
A spotlight suddenly illuminated the area around him, and also revealed the helicopter in a hover a hundred meters away. He stared back in surprise, still contemplating the future that awaited. He was obviously caught, but would they attack even though he could launch the weapon at any moment?
"Step away from the weapon, put your hands in the air!" The loudspeaker from the helicopter boomed in the night, barely audible above the wash over the blades.
"What do we do?" One of his comrades screamed, fear straining his voice.
"We need to launch the weapon, it's our only chance to win this war!"
Noronha shot a look back at the other man who had suggested that. This was escalating far too fast for his taste.
"Yes!" The last shouted above the roar of the blades. "We have to do it!"
One started moving for it, but Noronha stepped in his way. "No, we're not going to launch this. They know we can, and will not harm us."
"Step away from the device!" The loudspeaker causing each man's heart to skip a beat.
A shot whistled over their heads.
"They're going to kill us!"
Were they going mad? "Stand down! We will persevere!"
The man closest reached for the control device. He quickly reacted, screaming at him and pushing him away. The downpour engulfed them, drenching their hair, and the bright spotlight lit all their faces, revealing very frightened and distraught men. The sight was shocking, and he could see the will in each of their eyes; they wanted to launch now in the face of danger.
Two more came at him, their demeanor changing to mutiny. He could feel his authority lose all significance, and was now standing between three men and a weapon aimed at millions.
Mahler watched the four men around the weapon engage in some sort of scuffle. He wasn't sure what was provoking this, but he couldn't risk letting one of them trigger the rocket and kill thousands from somewhere around this globe.
"Open fire."
The traversable machine gun on the side lit up, shooting rounds at the men. The muzzle flash illuminated the interior of the large helicopter, and the tracers tracked down onto the men. The ground ripped up as saturated dirt flew in all directions, the large rounds tearing through the earth. After two seconds, the gun went quiet, and the debris settled.
A bloody arm reached out for the control panel as dirt fell upon him. Their attack wasn't enough.
No!
In a bright flash, the rocket shot up suddenly, passing by them in a fraction of a second. With the rocket went all of his worst fears, all of his nightmares. With that rocket went a death warrant for millions.
With it went defeat.
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