"Alright people!" Arsenal addressed them. "This is probably going to be more tricky than when we took the Peter Panic. We're up against what are likely to be the best the Lyrans have to throw at us, and that means heavy, NON-TECHNOLOGICAL fireworks! But first things first. Before we can get at them, we have to get inside that shield they've put up, and it is going to have to be an inside job.
"Ghostling, Mystic, Jericho, I want you to scout out the best possible entry points. No one is to see us go in, or even suspect that we're inside. Smasher, Surge, Jade, Ranger, prepare the minimum necessary equipment. If we're captured or killed in there, I don't want them getting any more of our tech than is absolutely necessary. Now let's get to it!"
"Are you sure this is the area?" he whispered into his short-range headset.
"Yup," Jericho's reply came. "The force field is pretty weak up ahead. We should be able to get through it there."
"Let's hope so..." Arsenal muttered.
"This is it," Arsenal muttered. "Hand me the scrambler." Surge handed him the disc. With a powerful shove, he slammed it into the wall, embedding the spikes in the rock, and into the circuitry controlling the field.
"Ready in three," Arsenal stated, "two, one. MOVE!"
The field flickered, then died, as the Team rushed through the opening. Surge, however, lingered a bit too long, and was caught in the field as the scrambler outlived its usefulness, the field jumping back into place. Surge died screaming, fried from the field's unique energies.
"DAMN!" Arsenal muttered. "Can't we get through a mission without losing anyone?!"
Losing good men on missions was not something which Arsenal was very fond of, but there was nothing else to be done for it. Taking as much of Surge's gear as possible, the Team headed down the tunnel.
Disengaging his flamethrower, Arsenal scanned the remains of the nest.
"They're not from around here. Lyrans must've brought 'em with 'em."
"As what?" Smasher asked. "Food, home security, or did they just hitch a ride?"
"Probly just hitched a ride," Arsenal commented. "I'd guess these things are Lyran cockroaches."
"I hate roaches," Jade said, suppressing a shudder. "How much longer, Chief?"
"Power source should be around the next bend," Arsenal stated. "That is, if this map we took off that passing sponge three turns ago is accurate."
With various looks passed between members, the Team returned to their mission, heading down a passageway.
Behind them, a pair of glowing eyes shifted in the darkness, following them.
"What was that? I didn't copy!" Sgt. Ramierez shouted into his radio.
"I said, Loved Ones approaching your sector!" came the reply.
"No sweat," one of the troopers commented.
"Don't get overconfident, kid," Ramierez told the trooper. "Loved Ones are tougher to kill than Sponges."
Ramierez checked the clip in his rifle. Having only another seven rounds, he prepped a new clip.
"Keep your eyes open, and for God's sake, watch your ammo load!"
Making certain the area was secure, Ramierez's unit moved forward, covering windows, doors, and shadows as they advanced. Several times their weapons sounded as Spongin popped out of hiding to attack. The streets were otherwise dead silent except for the occasional chatter of rifle fire.
Coming up on an intersection, Ramierez ordered his men to spread out against the buildings on both sides of the street. Watching for possible ambush from around a corner, the soldiers kept their weapons levelled. A shot rang out, and a young private went down.
"AMBUSH!" Ramierez yelled.
Inded it was, but not from where they had expected, rather from above. Bullets rained down from dark windows and open fire escapes that had been clear seconds earlier. Lining up a target, Ramierez took down a Loved One hanging over a building's eave.
Falling into a knot of its' brethren, its weight dragged several from their perches, sending them into the pavement below.
Ramierez cast about for his men, and saw that two were lying dead in pools of their own blood, riddled with bullets. The young private who had been hit early in the fight was behind an over turned truck, his back to its' wide wheelbase. Having left his rifle in the street, he was reduced to using his service pistol.
Brave kid, Ramierez thought. Too bad we're gonna die, unless a miracle happens.
The Covert Ops team stood in front of the main mystic battery for the Lyran base, which was nothing more than a giant slab of amber, intricately etched with runic symbols, most of them in a language, if language it was, that none in the Team had seen before. Surprisingly, the battery chamber had been unguarded from intrusion.
"Okay, let's get this done with quickly." The Team spread out, placing high-yield explosives around the Lyran artifact.
A small explosion rocked the chamber, as one of the various protection spells placed on the battery was triggered. Ghostling materialized inches from the scene.
"I'm okay," she commented, her stealth-suit torn in several areas. "Do you think...?"
"They're aware of us now," Arsenal stated. "Get those charges set, so we can blow this place apart."
"It won't be that easy, hyoo-man," a voice rasped from one of the doorways. Heads turned, as a trio of what appeared to be Loved Ones entered the room. These Loved Ones, however, stood head and shoulders taller than their brethren, and had a look in their eyes that normal Loved Ones lacked, a look that told the Covert Ops Team that these Loved ones knew what they were doing.
"Oh, shit."
"DIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEE!!!"
Ghostling had barely enough time to activate her stealthsuit as razor-edged talons tore through her intangible form. Screaming their lust for blood, two of the Loved Ones had leapt at her, covering the thirty foot gap between them in a mere second.
Hanging back, the third hefted a telephone pole of a javelin, and hurled it straight at Arsenal. The Ebony Blade swung in a wide arc, spitting the deadly projectile down the center, but the shear weight and force of its' flight pushed the Blood Jihad CinC against the far wall with a resounding *CRUNCH*. The Loved One smiled , revealing the twin rows of the needle sharp teeth it intended to use on Arsenal's remains.
In a flash, it joined its' brethren in attack the rest of the Covert Ops Team. Claws and steel rang, and a blaster bolt ripped open one of the enhanced creatures' belly, spilling its' guts.
"Jihaddi sssscum!" one of the others hissed. "You will pay for that!"
"Yea, verily! Face now thy doom, Jihaddi!"
Scattering, the CO Team barely missed being fried by a burst of flame.
Advancing into the room, four Lyran Mages prepared their spells. Eldritch energy writhed around them, coalesing into focused orbs. Following them, an Enhanced Loved One entered the room to aid it's brethren.
"Eat steel, Lyrans!" Mystic shouted, throwing a dagger at the lead target. The blade was deflected easily to the side by the Mage, but circled back around from behind, embedding itself in his back.
"Yes, ladies and gents! No strings attached!" the Jihaddi combat sorceress declared, readying herself for a counterblow. None came, however, as the Lyran slumped to the floor, his life draining away.
"Thou shalt not find us so ill prepared a second time, human germ," the second of the surviving Lyrans snarled, mystic energy gathering around his left hand.
"Give him time, General," a Colonel told her. "They may have run into some ... resistance."
"They ran into some Lyrans, you mean," she remarked. "Figures. How's the street-fighting going?"
"We've got a dozen units pinned down in a line across the city. We're sending in reinforcements to the areas now, but the enemy is doing the same. The Urban Assault Vehicles and Badlands units are moving in now, but it might already be too late."
"It's never too late as long as we don't retreat," Keili stated.
Jade slipped behind her opponent, a lower-ranking Lyran, and threw a garotte wire around his neck. The wire bit deep, slicing down to the bone. The Lyran, however, was to have the final say, as his body exploded in a red mist, bone shrapnel flying in all directions, killing Jade instantly.
Ghostling was having trouble with her Lyran. For ever punch, kick, or blaster shot she threw he deftly turned aside or deflected. Growling her frustration, she activated her stealthsuit, becoming intangible. Rushing straight through her adversary, she let go of the Plaidsma Bomb in her right hand as it passed through his midrift.
The fashion-ignorant explosive lit off, vaporizing the Lyran in a flash of plaidsma. Too close to the explosion, Ghostling was sent sailing across the room, and landed hard against the base of the mystic battery. She did not rise.
Trading blows with a Loved One had taken it's toll, and Kim Hart was forced to revert to tactics she'd used in her home time-line. Not bothering to revert to cheesiness, however, she didn't call out the name of the weapon as she pulled out the Pteradactyl Thunder-Whip.
Snapping it back, the lash wound about the Loved One's trunk, pinning an arm to its' side. Shreiking in rage, the B'Harnate slashed downward with its' free claw, slicing the cord. The sudden loss of tension caused the Shadow Ranger to stagger back a step before regaining her balance. That was all the time the Loved One needed. With a ferocity matched only by a few, the Loved One tore into his prey, leaving her a bleeding mass of flesh on the ground.
On the far side of the amber slab, Jericho faced off against the third remaining Loved One. Teeth, flesh, armour, and blood flew in a dizzying tornado of claws and steel as the two wrestled, swiped, jabbed, and bit at each other.
"Human weakling!" the Loved One hissed.
"Hope I give you RABIES!" Jericho spat back.
"Hunk of meat!"
"Delinquent worm!"
"HISSSSSSSSSS!"
"Yer father was a hamster and yer mother smelled of elderberries!!!"
With that, Jericho brought his sword around, smashing the hilt into the Loved One's skull, causing it to stagger backwards. Dropping the sword, Jericho pulled out his 9mm pistol, and shot the Loved One in the eye. Startled, it keeled over, dead, the bullet lodged deep within it's brain.
"Rest in pieces, lizard-breath." Exhausted, Jericho leaned against the amber slab.
He turned to witness Smasher tossing a Loved One into the wall, leaving a giant imprint where it hit. The Loved One slumped to the ground, it's lifeless tongue flopping out of it's mouth.
"He sure makes an impression," Smasher quipped, heading over to help out Kim.
From the mound of rubble that had covered Arsenal, a hand clawed it's way out, followed shortly by the other, still gripping the Ebony Blade. With some effort, Arsenal pushed his way out of the rubble. With a glance around the room, he took in the whole situation.
"Jericho, see to the wounded. I'm gonna see what I can do to help Mystic."
Arsenal took off down a corridor, following the signs of a mystic battle.
"Where's he going?" Smasher asked, helping Kim to her feet.
"Into the thick of trouble. Let's get everyone out of here, and blow this joint to smithereens."
Enraged, the Lyran erected a pulsing wall of swirling energy. Filling the corridor from ceiling to floor, the heat from it was becoming overwelming. Mystic knew she would have to put her foe down soon, or she would be done for. Focusing all the power she could muster into her hands, she molded it into an almost solid rod. The energy, compacted into such a tight focus, began to singe its' wielder.
Rushing forward, she raised the rod high above her head. The Lyran, intending to simply bake the life out of her, had allowed his wall to obscure his vision, and thusly never saw the blow that laid him low. Slashing at him several more times, Mystic did not release the focus on her energies until she could no longer bear the pain.
Arsenal ran around the corner, and almost tripped over the fallen Lyran. Mystic sat against a wall, performing a healing spell on her hands.
"Looks like I missed it again," Arsenal muttered to himself. "You gonna be okay?"
"Yeah," she breathed. "What took you so long?"
"Never mind that. Let's hook up with the others, and get out of here."
Five minutes later, the amber battery exploded.