Estecia: Reconstruction
 

April 28th, Pasadga Royal Palace

Nothing had ever been the same in Pasadga since the untimely death of the monarchy's queen. Even though her murder was years ago, to this day a melancholiness lingered, remnant to the mourning of a people. Julius would know; he had been here to deliver regrettable news himself in the past. Despite the expression to not shoot the messenger, he got the distinct feeling that with his appearances being synonymous with bad news his presence was...less than appreciated in the palace.

Not that he was at all daunted. His strides went uninterrupted as he ventured through the elaborate corridors, always keeping a grasp of precisely where he was heading despite glancing over some papers with his reading glasses. As if he wasn't getting enough headaches over his own organization's problems, now this demanded his attention.

Well, if all went well from here, he'd be able to smooth it out and walk away better off than how he came in.

The jacketed man stopped before a large set of double doors, blocked by four guards. He glances up from his folder and smiles, "Afternoon, gentlemen."

None of the guards returned the gesture, but nonetheless opened the doors, which is all Julius wanted anyway. He strides into the room toward a man who was very much his elder sitting directly in front of him. After a few feet, he nods his head, "I'm eternally grateful that you decided to see me again, Lord Goraq. I was afraid that you didn't think well of me."

Julius shook his head, tucking his folder under his arm as he takes his seat before the surrogate ruler of Pasadga, "We have a lot to talk about."

Lord Goraq was sitting at the throne which once held the rightful Queen of Pasadga. He sat uneasily, with his hand holding up his head, his fingers curling around his mouth. He wasn't happy, in a few seconds time he was to be greeted by the same man who brought news of the Queen's murderers and their escape. His presence made everyone in the town uneasy, as they were weary of him and the news he brings from time to time.

"The messenger is here, Lord Goraq"

"Send him in."

The doors opened and in walked Julius, mocking the people of Pasadga with his statement.

"The pleasure is mines, Julius. You are more than welcome here at any time. Now tell me, to what do we owe your company?"

His voice gives off an air of anger and bitterness, like a man forced to smile to the killer of his own wife. Lord Goraq sat steadily, awaiting his answer.

There was a frown as Julius' suspicions are verified, but he says nothing of the matter. Right to business, then. "I'm sure you've heard something of what's been happening on the main-land. Estecia was decimated, and in recent months has fallen into looting and gang wars."

The official removes his glasses, gently placing them in his breast pocket, "Under normal conditions, this would be neither your nor my concern. However, as you know it's my business to keep tabs regardless, and the situation has changed," He takes the folder from under his arm and hands it to Goraq, "I'm sure you remember the...regrettable situation with Kedik and Muro."

Lord Goraq reluctantly took the folder. As he flipped through the folder he frowned. This fool was mocking them once again, it was Kedik and Muro who killed their Queen! It was because of them that Pasadga is at a standstill! He flipped through the folder and then stopped on a page laden with pictures of the two murders. He looked back at Julius, confused. "Explain yourself, Julius."

"As I said, Estecia has fallen into a state of chaos. Gangs run uncontested as no one wants to take responsibility for the city. We've been monitoring their activities. Recently, we've intercepted conversations which indicate that Kedik and Muro have been in contact with one of these gangs within the past three months. However, it would seem that neither are staying in the city, even though they've been in contact. Unfortunately, we doubt intercepted conversations are going to shed any further light on this situation...So I'd like to request your aid, your Highness."

Julius rests his chin on his folded hands, carefully watching the elderly man's face to gauge his feelings.

Lord Goraq sat, listening, and taking all the information in. So the bastards were still at large... "What do you have in mind, Julius?"

The man leaned back in his chair, resting his arms at the sides, "The only chance we have at getting more information is to move into the city and re-take control, rooting out the gangs and getting the information they have on just where those two have been hiding. It won't be difficult, these aren't soldiers trained to resist interrogation, just mischeif making kids really. But, as you know, I can't order my first to move unless we have a banner to fly."

"Give me your consent and enough troops to re-take the city, and you have my vow that I will bring you the location of Kedik and Muro. My forces will also be offering their support in both ventures."

Goraq stared at Julius for a long while before answering, pondering he should say. He then stood up and faced Julius.

"Your invitation is tempting, but with the economy of Pasadga a wreck, and the morale of our troops so low. We could not, by any means, begin a war. Much less a conquest! Lord Goraq turned around facing his chair before sitting down.

"Not to mention we do not know much about you, or where you are from, Julius. Do not forget the last time you came here, you came with such an arrogance about you, that I see you didn't forget to bring with you this time; and you brought news of the murderers, information about them we knew not.. How can we trust you? For all we know, you might be with them." At this Goraq turned around to face Julius, to give him a piercing stare before Goraq sat down.

"I must decline. Please, nothing you say can change my mind. Now, quickly, do make your way out of my sight."

The negative response garners a frown from Julius, who reaches into his pocket and removes his glasses, "That's...very disappointing. I would have thought that Pasadga, a nation facing the injustice of a murdered young queen, would be more ready to extend aid and understanding to another suffering people, especially when those responsible for the suffering of the Estecians are very much acomplices of those who bear the blame for your people's suffering."

Julius stands, putting his glasses back on, "I suppose the cries of Estecia's people will again fall on deaf ears. It's a tragedy that your compassion died with your Queen."

Goraq frowns as Julius finishes his last sentence; very much irked at him. "How dare you accuse us of being so barbaric. Who are you to speak for the Queen? Have you ever met her yourself? No, you haven't. You know nothing."

"Perhaps that was out of line, I do apologize," Julius pushed his glasses closer to his eyes, "But just because I never met the late Queen doesn't mean I didn't know a thing or two of her. Her kindness was well known and well thought of, after all."

Goraq sat and stared at Julius before answering. "While your kind isn't one to be trusted, Julius.. you are correct in thinking what the Queen would have done. Please, sit down, we will negotiate. I want to know all the details, and all the... benefits." He raised his eyebrows knowingly.

Julius smiled, re-taking his seat before Goraq, "Of course. We all want to justice prevail in both the case of the...ruffians who plague Estecia as well as those who had a hand in the Queen's death. But we both know the world doesn't always work on justice."

"As well as my organizations aid in orchestrating the occupation and reconstruction of Estecia, and of course all information on Kedik and Muro that we collect, I am sure that my council will be more than willing to repay your country for its cooperation in this project."

He nods. "Justice needs to be done, by any means necessary."

Goraq leans forward so Julius can hear him more clearly, even though Goraq lowered his voice. "Julius, I demand full reparations. The economy is in the ground, the people are empty shells walking the streets each day, the city is practically shut down. Help me repave my streets, clean up my shops, and turn the city back around." He leans back in his chair again. "I've also been meaning to ask.. what council are you with? What is the name of your organization?"

"Consider it done, you will recieve all the funds necessary to restore your home to something worthy of the late Queen Bianca," Reaching into his jacket, he pulls out a very small envelope and hands it to Goraq, "All the details on how to contact me are within. Just be sure no one else gets a hold of that, we really hate surprise calls," Julius stands preparing to leave.

"As for me, I am a representative of an organization devoted to peace-keeping and stabilization, as well as a member of its leading council. We use whatever means necessary to maintain order in this region, and relegate negotiations between nations. 'Omni' looks forward to working with you and your country toward the betterment of our world."

Finishing the rehearsed explanation, he smiles at Goraq, "We'll be in touch regarding the details of our arrangment. Oh, and you can keep the folder," Taking his leave, Julius starts for the door, everything had gone perfectly.

______________
Welcome to the NIGHTMARE Field-Access Database. Please Login.
Username: FAMINE
Password: *******
……Access Granted
/search “Estecia Incident”
Relevant Data Loading…
~Estecia Incident~
-On Christmas the Demon “LEGION” (Subject #0) releases demons and other monsters upon the town after taking over the local prison.
-Death rate: 87% of population
-Massive energy flux and dispersion shortly after, possible reformation and destruction of Subject #0. (REQUIRES VERIFICATION)
-Large unknown energy readings of unidentified persons during incident, investigation pending.
-Aftermath of Incident: mass gang violence and looting, has lasted for four months as of the creation of this document.
-Order from JULIUS to send in reconstruction effort. Undaunted departs from *******.
-DUSK placed as head of reconstruction, Team NIGHTMARE to begin investigation.
-Agents assigned: FAMINE, TRANQUIL. Further agents pending.
-Mission: Search for traces of Subject #0, as well as those relevant to the Blythandor Incident and those connected to them. Secondary: Aid in reconstruction and peace-keeping. Eliminate gang presence.

All-Seeing. All-Knowing. All-Powerful.
OMNI

/Terminate Transmission

“Subject #0? The fuck? They forget to tell us what that’s about too? Figures,” A man dressed head-to-toe in a jet black battle suit muttered mechanically through a speaker. His visor glowed green, giving the appearance of a large, singular eye. He had slung a rifle over his back, and was tilting his head toward his partner, a man in a similar outfit, though it was a cobalt color. Both were standing on the side of a helicopter hovering over the remnants of one of Estecia’s buildings.

“You get use to that, no one ever tells us anything. Hell, never tell the generals anything either. Dusk gets pissy over it all the time. The council has a treasure chest or two of crap they’re not particular on sharing with the rest of the class. Only one in our merry band who was ever informed of any of it was Loki,” He paused, his tone taking on a somber tone, “We miss that bastard.”

“I didn’t consider you the sentimental type, sir.”

“Holy crap, you talk? Well keep your mouth shut or we’ll haze you. Your codename’s Tranquil, for god’s sake. That’s like being Teddy Bear.”

Tranquil sighed, “So just what are we looking for?”

Famine seemed willing to drop his teasing, “Mostly remnants of the freak or anyone else who shoots laser beams out of their ass or other such nonsense. Folk the MP’s can’t muster up to.”

“There’s nothing worth looking into here. It’s a dump. Might as well let the gangs take it.”

“I hear ya,” the elder muttered, “But, it seems the gangs here are connected to the late Queen of Pasadga’s kidnapping and death. On behalf of the great kingdom of Pasadga, we must bring all connected to justice.”

"Except our orders aren't to do any of that."

Crackling laughter forced itself out of the speaker, "Nah, that's for the grunts. Though I imagine someone will get in the way and we'll get to bust skulls."

"Someone sounds eager," Tranquil snorted.

"You know it. Aight, that's about enough of the pillow talk. Let's go act like we get payed for this," Famine leans out of the side of the chopper and flips forward, using his boots to slide down the ruins of the building and to the street. His partner follows behind, though with a certain lack of elogance in his slide.

"All right, let's head up to the prison."

((people are free to mess around in this thread, boredom spawned it, so entertain yourselves))

"ohshitohshitohshitohshit..."

One of Estecia's gang members ran through the outskirts of the destroyed town and dodged into a warehouse, terrified out of his mind. A few moments before, he had been with a group, hunting down their rivals in the area.

They'd never found the others, but they could guess what had happened to them. Spent cartridges littered the bullet-riddled neighbourhood, the odd body here and there, occasionally interspersed with unusual machines as if there had been some kind of b-movie robot uprising.

He'd been the first to notice the line in the dust. It was unusual, as if the dust had been puched to either side by a finger, but the line was far too straight for that. Over the line, on a road leading out of the town, there was almost dead silence. Frankly, he'd been more worried about that than the almost constant sounds of gunfire and rioting that had been a part of Estecian life for the last few months.

One of his group was rather less worried, and stepped over (or perhaps, stepped through, there seemed to have been a tiny hint of resistance as he moved). He had enough time to turn around and grin stupidly at the others for being such cowards before being hurled into the wall behind him with such force that he left a rather messy crater. The cause of that impressive accelleration stood where he had been; a 5 and a half foot long, vagely catlike machine. It stood up on it's hind legs and turned to face them, the single glowing blue eye in the centre of it's head narrowing as it looked over them. The meaning seemed simple enough, as the machine showed no further inclination to attack them.

Exactly why one of the others had decided to shoot at the machine, he hadn't the time to ask. Given the way it had reacted, namely leaping on him and proceeding to shred him, he wouldn't get the chance to either. While the his friend moved to assist the gunman, he'd taken the more logical approach of running like hell.

He'd only realised he'd been heading out of town when a clattering noise behind him heralded the arrival of the machine. For the last minute or two, he'd dodged down alleyways and through buildings in an attempt to throw off his pursuer. Dodging into a warehouse, he noticed that only a hundred or so metres away was a square, and then a road leading straight out of town. Hopefully if he headed out, the machine would understand he was trying to escape and let him go. As he ran towards the empty square, he became aware of faint noises coming from it, machinery whirring and even voices. He hadn't the time to wonder as he heard the machine barrelling after him, even faster than before. He was at full sprint when the machine hit him in the square of the back, hurling him with a 'whumph' into... nothing. It felt like he'd just hit a tent. He looked up and saw that the sky, no, the image of the sky rippling. Then, the weight on his back shifted and his personal, internal universe switched off.

After a moment or two, a triangular section of the 'sky' was opened, revealing for an instant, a number of military vehicles and a some interesting tracking equipment behind the camoflaged soldier who stepped out.

He looked around, annoyed, and finally saw one of the sentry Mk.12s sitting atop a body.

"Again? You sentries should be more careful!"

"Apologies. This one was more evasive than expected. However, next time I shall requisition reinforcements before giving chase."

Acting almost on reflex, the soldier patted the machine on the head. He'd heard that people who were posted with Mk.12s often got quite attached to the machines, and he was beginning to see why. Personality wise, they were like his German Shepherd. Vicious little buggers to people they didn't know, but otherwise nice to be around. With a little sigh, he waved it off in the direction of it's lurking post, and returned to the 'stressful' task of looking after the scanner crew.
All this fuss for two machines. Unbelieveable.

The pair of soldiers took their time as they moved across the ruined city to a section almost entirely reduced to rubble. It was easy to find a large impact crater that had engulfed an intersection months prior. The HUD within Famine's helmet scanned the earth, picking up a faint green glow from soil.

"It's all faint, none of this was recent."

Tranquil leaned forward to peer down into the hole, "Seems like our friend didn't survive."

"Don't be so sure," The superior said, "This one's a regenerator. Though he's probably had plenty of time to recover and flee by now."

"I thought you said we were always ill-informed."

Famine snorted, "This is from experience. Anyway, he's gone. We'll let the all our lovely superiors currently sitting in air-conditioned rooms and chuckling about how clever they are lose sleep over it."

"All right," Tranquil shrugged, "What now?"

"Well we ought to head toward that cast-" A beep from within both of their helmets interrupted Famine, and their Helicopter pilot from before broke in.

"Famine, Tranquil. After we dropped you we picked something up on radar we didn't expect. We did a flyby of the area, but the weird bit was we didn't see anything. Why don't you guys go take a look? We're transmitting the location now."

The pair's respective visors flicker off for a split-second, only to return with a large blue arrow indicating the direction of the area which was flagged by the Helicopter crew.

"Roger, we'll check it out," Famine turned and began to head toward the mysterious area, motioning for Tranquil to follow, "Get ready, this might be serious."

"...Helicopter, no IFF."

"Track them, they may come round for another pass."

"Appears to have returned to standard CAP, distance one-seven-decimal-two-eight."

"Must have picked up the radar. Go silent for now, I'll get the sentries on alert, we might not be the only ones here."

As the lights on the large radar array in the middle of the hidden camp faded, the commanding officer surveyed the feeds coming in from the Mark 12's scattered around the town, the windows crowding his bulky power armour's HUD. With a slight head movement, he activated the defense-only channel in the suit's radio.

"All units, we have just been buzzed by an unknown helicopter. Keep an eye out for any paras that may have been dropped."

"Fire status?"

"This is not a free-fire zone. Use caution and do not engage unless attacked, even within the perimeter.
The helicopter's circling around near the crater in quadrant two-zero. Twelve zero-three, you're closest, take a look around, see if there's anything out of the ordinary up there."

---

Orders recieved, 03 dropped out of it's observation post in a ruined building and began scuttling towards it's destination on all fours, various active sensors probing it's surroundings to an alarming amount of detail.

Elsewhere, over one of the city's many desolate, ravaged landscapes, another jet-black helicopter skimmed precariously across the decrepit rooftops. This particular aircraft was heavier than FAMINE's, with two rotors integrated into the fuselage on either side. The nose and cockpit dipped forward, while the tail extended out and flowed into two angular tail fins. In the place of port and starboard doors, a single, large hatch under the tail served to load and unload cargo. Both ends of the ship were adorned with 20mm cannons.

The dropship was set to patrol while FAMINE performed their search, and, if necessary, provide support. On board the aircraft, a crew of three manned the cockpit and monitored the comm and sensor displays. Eight men occupied the cargo bay, dressed in grayscale urban battle suits. Everyone on board seemed disinterested at best, and the assault team in the back attempted to occupy themselves by checking their weapons and ammunition while the crew focused on not flying the ship into a building. The primary objective of this incursion was never disclosed, however it was made clear that this was not a combat operation. Quite simply, they were here to tag along while FAMINE searched this hellhole for something that was likely inconsequential.

"Anything yet?" The CO, designated by the callsign TORRENT, questioned the cabin. An array of infrared cameras detected the heat of people on the ground, of which the crew had already encountered and dismissed numerous homeless individuals. Up ahead, an unusually large group of people, marked as an irregular white blob on the camera display, congregated on a second story rooftop.

This caught the attention of the crewman at the console. He called over TORRENT. "Sir, you may want to take a look at this."

"What have we got?" Before TORRENT could hardly finish his sentence, the display flashed, and a round light swelled out from the crowd of green. "Shit! We have a launch!" The crewman immediately fired off a series of commands from his console, activating a complement of electronic countermeasures. "It's an older model, shoulder-launched. Lose it, ECLIPSE."

"Roger," the pilot confirmed. Outside, a bright, white streak shot out across the evening sky. The dropship held its course until the surface-to-air missile came within 100 yards, at which point it banked hard. The missile, old in design and long obsolete, failed to compensate and passed the aircraft harmlessly. It meandered off behind the dropship, where it eventually fell to the ground.

TORRENT turned his attention back to the infrared display. Without hesistation, he barked an order to the third crewman. "PLAGUE, you are weapons-free, return fire."

"Yes, sir." PLAGUE reached for a joystick at his station. Almost immediately, the nose cannon faced the offending crowd and let loose a stream of fire, accompanied by a sharp, rapid bark. The large, explosive 20mm rounds arced out towards the building and tore into the rooftop, blasting most of the attackers to pieces and scattering their remains across the city block. The few that were not immediately obliterated were cut down by shrapnel and ultimately shredded by the sustained fire. The infrared display became a mess of white spots from the impacts and the scattered remains, but below the rooftop more distinct contacts poured from the building.

"TORRENT, we have more in the building," PLAGUE reported.

"Roger. Take us down, ECLIPSE!" The pilot pushed hard on the yoke. Three landing gears emerged from the chopper's fuselage and the dropship set down on the roof of what was once a supermarket. As the rear hatch opened, the tail cannon opened fire on the second floor of the occupied building, blasting out chunks of walls. The eight troopers on board unloaded, each armed with an automatic rifle, and took up positions at the edge of the rooftop.

TORRENT opened a channel from the dropship as the fire team unloaded. "CROW-One, this is CROW-Two, be advised, we've been engaged. Fire team is on the ground, you're on your own, over."

"Roger that CROW-Two, we're big boys over here, we'll manage. Watch your backs out there, over."

A crackle erupted within FAMINE's helmet as the Helicopter patched through, "This is CROW-One, FAMINE, CROW-Two's been engaged. We won't be getting any support from them for a while so don't get in over your head, over."

"TORRENT's team found some fun? Damnit, I had to get rookie duty. Whatever, we should be fine, over."

"Hold on FAMINE," There seemed to be some discussion going on in CROW-One that the soldier couldn't quiet make out, "The reading we got earlier just dropped off radar. You boys be careful. Radio us if things get messy, over."

"Roger that, over," FAMINE said in a more serious voice. He reached for the rifle slung over his shoulder, TRANQUIL doing the same. The pair carried on toward the nav point with significantly less chatter than before.
___
"HOLY SHIT!" Some poor bastard screamed as all Hell rained down on the second story of the building that had made the mistake of provoking CROW-Two. The 20mm ripped through flesh and bone, cutting down the majority of the gang-members occupying the second floor. Downstairs there was pandemonium. One criminal was running around, screaming at the others to regain order, "All of you SHUT THE FUCK UP! Get strapped and get ready to deal with those fuckin' marines or whatever the fuck who want to take our town away from us! And will someone get a FUCKING bazooka or something to get rid of the chopper before it RAPES us?!"

Panic began to subside as the gunmen once again flooded upstairs, returning to the roof and second floor. Most were armed with AK47's and rifles typically used for hunting. They began to return fire at the Helicopter as someone downstairs scrambled to find a rocket launcher.

As soon as the rain of bullets and bombs let up, a man who was eating lunch had gotten up only to hear another gang member shouting orders to the others. Trey got up, and took heed to his screaming. The helicopters could launch a second attack any second now, and they needed more than just pistols and rifles to throw them off. He ran off across the warehouse dodging the cargo holds and the people that crowded the area. All he could hear was the running of people on the catwalks above, the reloading of guns, and the ominous whirring of the helicopter above them. Trey ran some more until he finally reached the supply room. "Ok, ok... RPGs.... "

After searching for a minute or two, he found the crate full of weapons. He wheeled it out and took it out the supply room, and then thrust it down the hall so that it rolled out into the main warehouse space the crate broke open, revealing their best weapons. Three grenade launchers, two rocket launchers; the third was upstairs and was the one who fired first at the helicopter; the floor of the crate was littered with Molotov Cocktails and ammo for each launcher... and finally, in the back of the crate was their highest caliber weapon.. the Gatling Gun bought off an arms dealer years back. Trey looked at the crate, thoroughly disappointed with the lack of weapons to take down this helicopter. They obviously never planned on an aerial assault.

"Sentries and patrols, be advised. Passives have picked up a second unknown, triangulation puts it around... quadrant four-seven.. one second..."

"...will attempt to maintain visual. Repeat; One-one has visual. Unknown aircraft type. Appears to be enaged by/engaging local hostile elements. Retreating to area deemed safer, will attempt to maintain visual."

Radio chatter and feeds from one-one and the passive radar arrays all passed into one power armour's helmet. All the data seemed to indicate the another organisation was attempting to start it's own little black operation in the ruined town, and they'd brought air support.
Of course, arguably they didn't need air support, after all, the Projet's forces were worryingly mobile even without using helicopters. Even so, he'd feel happier having a chopper or Harrier available.
Considering his situation for a moment, he waved over a squad of troopers.

"Teams Aries and Gemini, take a look up there. I want a first hand look, and I expect these guys will react better to a human than they will a drone, though I trust you not to be seen. Load up with anything you think you'll need. That is all."

As the black caped troopers headed towards one of the APCs, a text burst popped up in the edge of his visor and rapidly scrolled through a fairly concise message:

+++o: PARCDm12 desg.'Wiley' (03)
r: SWHMAv2 desg.'Sir'

Face-to-face visual contact obtained with unidentifed elements designated 'Black' and 'Blue'. Obeying non-FFZ orders, will attempt 'diplomacy'+++

...Bugger.

"Team Libra, head up to zero-three's current position. It might need some company"

---

Out in the city, Zero-Three had indeed run into Famine and Tranquil. In an effort to appear somewhat less threatening, it dropped off the wall it had been walking along and stood up on it's hind legs. It raised it's forelimbs to demonstrate it was unarmed, the back toes on each 'paw' rotating around to give it a pair of opposable thumbs on each 'hand'. Ritual completed, it thought for a few milliseconds, trying to think of a suitable opening. Eventually, it came up with something it hoped sounded neutral in the circumstances. When it spoke, the machine's voice was obviously artificial, but it seemed to have a little hint of personality behind it

"Welcome to Estecia, gentlemen. May I assist you?"

"What the f-" FAMINE's voice suddenly cut out as both him and his partner raised their weapons to Zero-Three. Static erupted in their helmets as they quickly opened a private comm channel.

"Is that a fucking robot?"

"It seems like it's attempted to avoid engagement, unless it's ruse..."

"It's a fucking robot! Can robots lie? Isn't there some rule against that? Isn't there a rule against robots killing humans?"

Tranquil paused, "I don't think Asimov's laws automatically apply, sir. It IS fiction."

"Is this what they're trying to hide? Nevermind, I'm gonna try talking to it. If it makes a sudden move open up."

FAMINE lowered his aim to attempt to be non-threatening and returned to using the speaker on his helmet, "Er-Hello there. Would you care to tell us just what you are and why you're here?"
___
Another man sprinted into the supply room, only to find Trey all ready there, "Christ, Trey, they got a freakin' HELICOPTER! This is like the army or some shit! Hurry up and hand me something man, we're gonna get killed!" Roger's eyes darted around, fearing that soon parts of the warehouse would come crashing down on top of him.

CROW-2 wasn't interested in testing its armor against small-arms fire today, and as soon as the squad hit the ground it lifted back off. This time the dropship showed the occupied building its broadside, and both 20mm cannons came to bear, unleashing a hellfire upon the roof of the building. Once again the rooftop was cleared, and the rear of the building collapsed from the overwhelming abuse.

Meanwhile, the members of CROW-2's fire team backed against a short wall along the edge of the supermarket rooftop as small arms fire rang by overhead. One of the troopers extracted a cable from the back of his suit and drew it to half a meter's length. With his rifle slung, he used both hands to guide the cable over the top of the wall and leveled the end out. A tiny lens assembly came to life at the tip of the fiber optic cable, immediately adjusting its aperture and focal plane to suit the subject. This device relayed an image to a viewport in the soldier's heads up display, which in turn was synchronized with the other seven members. The camera pinpointed the firing positions of the enemy combatants on the second floor down to a two-foot area, complete with distance. From here it was a turkey shoot.

The squad leader, an officer himself, quickly divided up the enemy and assigned targets to each member of his team. These orders appeared on the fire team's HUDs as a set of small waypoints and a highlighted area on the camera image. "On three," he reminded them.

"...Two, three!" In synchronous, the eight troopers spun around, kneeled against the wall, and leveled their weapons. With similar timing, they each acquired their targets in the reticles of their assault rifles, and fired a series of three-round bursts.

The volley of precise munitions struck the armed gang like a wall. Instantaneously, every exposed man was incapacitated or killed by the onslaught, and the chatter of their weapons ceased.

+++o: PARCDm12 desg.'Wiley' (03)
r: SWHMAv2 desg.'Sir'

Uncertain response to my presence. Initial hostile intention appears to have upgraded into hesitant caution. Reinforcement status?+++

The small drone considered the two suited humans for a moment. Their initial surprise was only to be expected, many of the humans it had encountered in Estecia appeared to be very briefly surprised by seeing a robot in the 'flesh'. Still, Black's initial question seemed valid enough to warrant a technically correct answer.

"I am a Mark Twelve Advanced Reconnaissance Drone, designated 'Wiley'. I was assigned to take a look at unknown activity around the crater in quadrant two-zero. I assume that activity was yourselves? If so, I am duty bound to ask you for your identities and mission."

FAMINE paused, but only briefly, "FAMINE, and my compatriot is TRANQUIL." The latter had tilted his head slightly at his partner's response, but dismissed andy qualms he seemed to have.

"We're sweepers tasked to elimate gang presence for reconstruction. Except we got an unexpected reading from that direction," the Black-armored soldier motioned with his hand to the direction his waypoint indicated, "I assume that's where you came from, 'Wiley'."
___
Gang members watched in horror as CROW-2 decimated the roof and second floor, causing the collapse that Roger had feared. Screaming, he grabbed two molotov cocktails and bolted for the front of the warehouse.

Meanwhile the gang member who had taken charge was screaming at his companions, some of which were running outside to fire at the helicopter from bellow, others to simply escape. Roger reached the street, and, puting one cocktail at his side, lit the rag and attempted to hurl the bottle onto the grocery store roof.

The fire team ducked back below the wall after eliminating their targets. As the CO was preparing his next move, a bottle flew onto the roof and burst into flames behind them. More small arms fire began to open up on their location. Frustrated, he drew his own fiber optic camera, pointed it over the rooftop, and flagged the largest gathering of combatants on the ground. This flag appeared on CROW-2's weapons control. He also made a note of the man holding another molotov. With his free hand, he drew his sidearm, pointed it at a downward angle against the wall, and fired three times into the facade.

Out of the blue, a large caliber round stuck Roger in the shin, followed by a second that skimmed his shoulder, and finally a third round struck him just below his right eye, shattering his skull and emptying his brains onto the street. An entirely unnecessary measure given what followed.

The road erupted as the dropship made a strafing run down the street, tearing the concrete apart as if it were cardboard and tossing bodies like dolls. Several of the building's front supports were heavily damaged in the run, and the entire structure began to groan under the stress.

"Correct. My superiors are... disturbed by the presence of your aircraft. I was dispatched to investigate, as I stated."

The drone paused for a moment, then tilted it's head on it's side and looked at Tranquil, it's single small eye narrowing.

"Tranquil... The codename seems somewhat out of place compared with that of your companion. Inter~ one second.

It appears that personnel more suited to answer any questions you may have will be arriving shortly. I have been instructed to tell you that if you do not wish to continue this interaction, you take your leave now. Very few of my human associates appreciate being observed in the open by those not authorised to do so."

It let them consider this for a second before attempting to make the situation seem more palatable to a human constitution.

"I do not presume to speak for my superiors, it would appear that they are wondering whether they can 'do a deal' with your people."

After passing out some of the cocktails to the others, the second attack is launched, bringing down the back wall. Debris filled the place, making is impossible to see for a few seconds. Trey finally decided to join the action himself, and grabbed one of the rocket launchers, yelling at another to bring ammo and to follow him. He ran out the side of the building and looked up the in the sky searching for the helicopter. Trey also spotted the group of 8 on the rooftop of the supermarket. He made a quick decision on who to shoot at first...

"Alright! Load it up!"

He put the launcher on his shoulder, and his friend loaded the rocket into the back of it. Trey pointed upward towards the helicopter, picking his target. "Ready... Aim...." With a blast, the rocket propels toward the helicopter.

TRANQUIL sighed within his helmet, but said nothing.

FAMINE shook his head, "I'm afraid we can't ignore your presence here, we aren't leaving. However, I doubt my superiors want any extra trouble. I'm sure if your superiors want to deal, something can be arranged."
___
Hysteria burned through-out the quickly deteriorating gang outpost. Many were fleeing for there lives, some couldn't even attempt to run. In a fit of rage the ring-leader makes his way to the back, motioning for some of his allies to follow him. Together they arrived at the crate, removing the gattling gun and slowly making their way to the front of the warehouse. The leader snarls, taking aim at the gattling gun and spraying fire toward the grocery store roof, the copter, and pretty much anyone unfortunate enough to be in the street infront of him.

Sitting in the rear of CROW-2, REX adjusted his helmet in a vain attempt to see what was going on below.

"A marksman can't do shit when he can't see what's going on you know."

Flipping his rifle over in his hands to check all the moving parts for fastness, REX smacked the 20-round clip in the bottom of the weapon, and adjusted scope slightly. Used to long-range combat, REX was slightly uncomfortable in an urban battle situation. He directed his comment at the command crew of the helicopter.

"I don't know, put me down on top of a building that's not occupied or something. Somewhere I'm useful."

"That'll have to wait, REX," TORRENT responded over the comm. A beeping noise could be heard droning on in the background. "We've just been painted."

A variety of alarms began to scream at the crew of CROW-2, alerting them that the missile was now live in the air. The pilot instinctively pulled up, forcing the missile to significantly adjust its trajectory. A series of hot orange flares launched from the craft's underbelly and hung in the air, attempting to dissuade the missile from its intended target.