Invasion Wars 1: Crimes of War (10 page)

The arrow was released, hitting Spencer in his left collarbone. Vibrated through an electronic system as it leaves the E-bow’s rest, it flies off with a burst of sparks. Able to penetrate Exoframe armor just enough to release its charge into the suit, bolts of electricity covered Spencer. Crying out in pain, he stood there stiff, unable to move as the arrow tip burned his skin — intensifying. Coming out of the room he was just clearing, Jackson saw the rebel readying another arrow.

A blast of his 505 “Rottweiler” shotgun sent the man flying across the hall, its under-over barrels sending one shell with buckshot and another with psi-shot. The pellets filled the rebel with holes, the psi-shot hitting–what was left of him–with a force hard enough to send him flying down the rest of the hall. Hurrying up to Spencer, Jackson punched the arrow in half, severing its wires and ending its discharge. Grabbing the broken steel shaft and pulling the arrow out of his teammate’s armor, he slapped the side of Spencer’s helmet to wake him up.

“Come on, sleeping beauty. There’s no blood. You’re good to go, man.”

Spencer grunted in pain, leaning down to pick up his gun. “God, I hate those things!”

A scream rang out in their com units, quickly cut off with a quick burst of static.

“What’s going on over there,” Jackson asked into his mic. “Mitchell, Hauser, Parker. Check with us.”

Hauser was in the middle of reloading, still at the top of the roof. “Hauser, check.”

Mitchell was in the middle of stomping a Rasvelg’s head into the stone steps, his Exoframe covered in blood and bodies sprawled out in front of him. “Mitchell, check,” he said, out of breath.”

Spencer held his chest. “Parker, you check?”

No reply.

Mitchell searched the bell tower, stopping the bell with his hand and seeing nobody else up there. “Hauser, why weren’t you watching the entrance?”

Hauser returned his eye to his scope, seeing the bodies around the area of the church cooling down and motionless. “I
am
watching it. Nothing’s gone through those doors since you guys went in to clear it.” Suddenly, his side spotter lit up with activity. He could hear doors slamming in the distance and echos of shouting. Taken his head away from his scope, small orbs of light could be seen down in the streets, heading towards the church.

Barging into the room of what used to be a boarding house, a Rasvelg rebel slapped his fellow cultist awake, kicking them and shooting his gun off into the roof. “Wake up, you bags of filth, it’s midnight! Midnight everyone. Time to join the Niflheim in the holy land. Come on, this is the moment you’ve been living for.”

One of the rebels stood by the backdoor in the kitchen, watching everyone hurry out of the place. His ear lobes were stretched so long that the loops were tied behind his head to make his green hair into a ponytail. The chain he was holding was attached to the neck of a girl who was wearing torn up fishnets, her makeup smeared horribly and her eyes closed. Tugging on the chain, he dragged her across the floor; the girl’s body motionless. Grunting in annoyance, he took the cigarette out of his mouth and put it out on her back, expecting a reaction. Her skin sizzled, but she didn’t budge. Cultist holding E-bows whooped and hollered as they flew down the steps and stormed by the kitchen.

Taking out a needle full of purple liquid, he jabbed it into her neck and pressed down on the injector with his thumb. “Maybe a little Sutt will wake you up, ya lazy meatbag.”

Gasping awake, the girl’s eyes stared dead ahead without looking at anything. She started running, her pupils glowing purple. An ecstatic laughter constantly came out of her mouth, her breathing harsh and out of control. Her owner was almost being dragged himself now, trying his best to keep up. Entering the night air, they joined the rest of the cultist on their way to the church, others holding torches made of severed limbs — the smell of burning flesh and leather welling up in the air. The stench was also joined by the smell of gasoline, some of them showering themselves with a gascan in preparation for the ritual.

“Echo, you have Rasvelg closing in on your position! I can’t get all of them. Take cover.” Hauser changed channels on his wrist screen. “Echo to HQ, come in HQ. Our position’s been compromised. We’ve been surrounded and we have a man M.I.A. Requesting reinforcements.”

“Copy that Echo. Reinforcements are en route. ETA in ten minutes.”

Hauser took his hand away from the side of his helmet, huffing in anger. Changing the channel back to squad-speak, he tried his best to not raise his voice. “Looks like we’re on our own for a bit. Can you guys hold out until then?”

Mitchell saw them heading towards them from the bell tower, running back down the steps to get his gun. Reloading on his way back to the ledge, he was ready and started to open fire. Legs split off in mid stride, cultist being hit by the gunfire and crashing into each other. Even with him only firing in quick bursts, he ran out of ammo and had to reload before he knew it. E-arrows whooshed over his head, a few sticking into his brick-made cover, the electricity sizzling nearby.

“Not for long,” he said as he changed magazines. “Without Parker, we’ll be out of ammo in no time.”

“I don’t mind smashing a few skulls,” Spencer said, peeking his weapon around the edge of a doorframe. Jackson and he took a side of the hallway, both of them looking down the empty area, waiting for any sign of movement. “Anything’s better than sitting here like a turd and letting you guys have all of the fun.”

“I’m starting to think those bells weren’t a warning sign for back up,” Jackson realized out loud. “You know what that means?”

“It means this place is going to burn down if we don’t get moving.”

Jackson got out of cover. “It’s go time, then.”

Making their way down the hall, they retraced their steps back to the fire pit. As they drew near the main church area, they could hear shouting and joyful praise, as well as another sound. Taking cover around the corners to come out from both sides of the hall, blood splattered across the floor towards them — a larger quantity than they were used to seeing. Giving each other a look of concern, they then nodded, agreeing to attack. Coming out of hiding and shooting at anything that moves, their gunfire soon stopped at what they saw.

Parker’s body parts were all over the place, the armor of his chest split in half from the side and hanging on top of his bent-up machine gun. Cultist entered the fire, diving right into it head first; some letting out a loud blast from the gasoline can they were carrying. The ones who weren’t as drugged out were able to notice the Niflheim near the fire, running up to it to bow down to it. Any of the slaves injected with Sutt honed in on the alien right away, taking their owners with them. Shoving meat into its mouth, it looked down by its feet to see the crowd gathering before it.

“Take me to paradise!”

“Our savior has awaken!”

“Please, take me!”

Grabbing at the Niflheim’s legs blindly, they were quickly torn to shreds by the Wotan’s powerful claws and forearm-spikes. Bodies dropped left and right as the Niflheim took out whoever wasn’t heading towards the fire already. A few of them were shot by the gunfire, but none of them cared. All they wanted was to be “saved” by their savior. Being blessed by the Niflheim was what their ritual was all about.

“Save me! Save
me
!”

The slave’s head turned into a pool of blood as it was slammed into the ground by a massive blue fist, the Wotan biting off her arm. It had plenty to eat as the remaining few cultist hurried into the building. And as it devoured, its spikes grew. Extending two of them out near its wrist, Rasvelg were sliced down even fast. The Wotan moved its way in front of the fire, trampling over some that were still alive.

Hauser’s location was still unknown to the Rasvelg, but there was little he could do from where he was. He shot off his fifteen round magazine faster than ever, taking as many out in quick succession as he could. Still, it wasn’t enough. More came in from the other buildings nearby, running through the streets like a sick and twisted marathon. Crossing his scope by the church, his directional microphone picked up a sound that made his heart drop.

An otherworldly battlecry, one that he’s heard before.

“... a Niflheim.”

“There’s a Wotan in here,” Jackson whispered into his mic. “Nobody mentioned a Wotan was going to be here. We’re not equipped for this, man.”

“I’m all out of black holes,” Spencer added. “What the hell are we going to do?”

Mitchell didn’t have any more targets in front of him, his back against the brick. “Looks like we’re going to have to wait it out. Do not engage. I repeat, do not engage.”

Sniffing the air, the Wotan could smell spent gunpowder coming from the hall leading to the school area. Ripping off the last cultist’s leg and tossing it aside like it was nothing, it turned around. The cultist cheered happily as he bled out, the drugs keeping him in ecstasy during his final moments. Leaping over the fire, the Wotan crashed down, letting out another battlecry. Hearing nothing but heavy footsteps, Spencer popped his head out to see what was going on.

His head flew off with a single punch, the helmet rolling down the hallway and leaving a trail behind it. Grabbing the headless body with its other hand, the Wotan tossed it at Jackson with enough strength to send the lifeless corpse flying. Getting one shot off, Jackson was knocked off his feet before he knew what hit him. He missed completely, having the weight of his teammate take him all the way to the wall on the other side of the open room behind him; his back-propellers dug into the drywall. Pinned down by the Exoframe on his lap, he coughed up blood, his visor smeared with it from the inside.

“Mitchell… it’s coming for you…” he coughed again, the pain in his chest making him hiss. “Get out of there!”

He felt the tower shaking as if it was about to crumble down. There was nowhere he could go. Mitchell took cover behind the big bell, his gun aimed at the entrance. Once he saw movement, he fired, yelling at the top of his lungs. He wasn’t willing to go down without a fight.

Bullets blasted through the wall behind the Niflheim, any that hit their target only making it flinch from one hitting it in one of its triangular eyes. After emptying his entire magazine, the Wotan was still standing, some of its spikes broken off from the hail of gunfire. Still dripping with blood, it roared at him, baring its mouth full of overgrown and crystillian teeth. With a running swing of its powerful arm, the bell flew off of its support beams, rolling its way out of the tower. Mitchell dodged back, flipping out of the tower with the bell.

Without even thinking, his hand caught onto the ruined ledge, his body slamming against the tower’s side. Far down below, the bell crashed into the street, smashing a wrecked car. His gun also fell, leaving him without a weapon to fight back. The Wotan’s steps nearly shook his grip loose, Mitchell grabbing on with his other hand to avoid plummeting to his death. The creature’s reptilian head poked out of the tower’s edge, bent bullets falling loose from the small cracks in its scaly skin.

Seeing his squad leader in trouble through his scope, Hauser stood up and quickly got out his ziphook. The hook fired off towards the tower, its handle being planted onto the edge of the building he was on. With a running start, Hauser leaped off the ledge, zip-roller in hand. Its magnets connected with the metal cable, turning on to shoot the marine towards the other end. While he flew across the street, he switched his gun to anti-tank mode. The barrel’s suppressor extended out and reconstructed itself to have the barrel longer, the gun’s computer allowing the ammunition to fire at max strength.

The Niflheim raised a hand up high, but was knocked to the side in an instant. Hauser’s legs plowed the alien with enough force to send it across the room, sliding on the floor. Entering a free fall, the both of them headed straight down off of the tower. Hauser fired his rifle in mid air, blasting its teeth right off of its face has he rode the Wotan through the roof. The ceiling caved in, filling the room with planks of wood and crushed tiles.

Covered in wreckage, the Niflheim laid on its back, panting loudly. It was dazed, but not dead. Hauser got up uneasily, pushing himself up to finish the job. He hasn’t let a Niflheim get past him alive and he wasn’t planning to do that today. The pain in his legs wore off, his slight limp going away.

A steel rod was in his arm, pierced right through his bicep. Taking a second to pull it out, he fought through the pain, tossing the clean rod aside. Huffing as he picked up his rifle, the wound in his arm healed over, the hole slowly closing up as he made his way around the pile of rubble. The ruined planks stirred, the Niflheim moving to get itself out of the broken roofing that held it down. Stomping down on its head, Hauser put all of his weight down to keep it down.

Sticking the extended barrel of his Elk straight into the alien’s wide mouth, he was able to push it all the way down now that it had most of its teeth missing. A shot blasted loud enough to push away the dust around them. A second one. A third.The rest of his bullets went down into the Niflheim’s mouth, having purple blood come back up.

With an empty click and a motionless Wotan, Hauser threw the rifle to the side in anger. It was their fault he was like this. He was a freak because of them. He had to join the UMA under a false name because of them. His past of being Emich Aumeier was gone because of them.

Dropping to his knees, he stayed there in front of the dead Niflheim, motionless, until reinforcements arrived.

Chapter 7

Nuclear weapons never saw the light of day, ever since their creation that demonstrated its destructive power. The cold war stayed cool because of the immense fear that a nuclear device could have on its people. The power to destroy entire cities within seconds. The power to leave impact area uninhabitable for hundreds of years. The superpowers of the world able to mass produce these weapons.