"Lord-God..."
Turning the rifle barrel aside, I stepped off the ship's ramp along with ten Helldivers. Having landed in the only spaceport of this godforsaken planet, we observed a much more familiar, yet gruesome picture.
"Oh, these freaks really stink." One of the soldiers stepped slightly aside, poking a broken body with the toe of his boot. Most likely a Necromorph, as Tali dubbed these Brutes, had been hit by a loader, impaling most of its body on the forks, while the remains were run over by multi-ton wheels.
The battered transport itself was found nearby. Having crashed into the side of a small courier ship, it had buried itself halfway into the hull, but even so, we could see heavy blood splatters in the cabin with the shattered glass.
Everything around was a battlefield. The entire small town was a former battleground, where corpses, unidentifiable remains, or bodies twisted by mutations lay in every corner.
There were Brutes, so many of them, just fucking many. Their bodies protruded from broken windows, lay in heaps near broken doors, rested under the rubble of collapsed buildings.
And they spread a true stench, a foulness worthy of Grandfather Nurgle. A mix of the smell of a corpse with the rot of swamp slime, blood, and shit, of course.
Walking forward a few meters, I pressed my foot against the shoulder of a Necromorph crawling toward us. Aiming the rifle at its forehead, I peered into the empty white eyes. The pupils had merged with the whites, and only murky black capillaries showed through the slime that flowed liberally into the corners.
"Disgusting." A quiet flash of the blaster ended the unlife, and I stepped away from the meat stinking of burnt flesh. The sound of the shot was quiet enough, but in the absolute silence of the dead city—it seemed like the tolling of a bell, so now this necropolis was waking up from its dead waiting. "Prepare for battle. Full set, boys, just like in training."
Grinding, clicking, and shuffling sounds filled the area. The roar of mad monsters approached from all sides. Knocking down everything in their path, they created a din that served as a catalyst—attracting even more Brutes.
Some mythical wailing of monsters from ancient legends. The noise of falling from a great height and the crack of tearing flesh and bone.
The Brutes ran straight at us with a strain. Not turning, not fearing, and knowing no fear...
Too bad for them.
"Fire!" Waving my hand, I slung the blaster off my shoulder and felled a couple of particularly brisk fools with the very first burst. "Send these Brutes into oblivion."
A synchronous series of laser flashes lit up the space. A grand light show toppled the front ranks as the beams—burning through clumps of flesh and piercing rotten meat—flew right through, wounding several monsters at once.
But that was only the beginning, as in the second second I heard a sound dear to my heart. The metallic clang of a sliding bolt. A sharp strike with a light ring at the end. And a click—warning the area that the engine of war was ready for work.
"A-A-A-A-A-A! HA-HA-HA!"
Gripping the triggers with both hands, the soldier squeezed them all the way, releasing huge bullets the size of a man's palm. The twin MG-206 Heavy Machine Gun sent an endless string of projectiles into flight, heating the barrel to a scarlet color in mere moments.
The weapon, driven into the ground, barely handled the recoil, constantly kicking and forcing the gunner to stutter and keep his mouth shut so as not to bite his tongue... But when did safety rules ever stop a Helldiver.
The air around the gun filled with gunpowder smoke. Pouring out in streams, it settled on our shoulders, breaking through the filter and filling the helmet with the pleasant aftertaste of Liberty.
"Oh, yes!" Taking a deep breath, I felt my head start to spin slightly, which only spurred me on. "Pilot, report."
"Brutes are converging from all over the city, but no one came out of the second landing pad..."
Chattering into the channel, our pilot was also briskly shooting freaks from the tail turret. Twin blaster charges left entire swathes, mowing down monsters by the dozen at a time. Scarlet lights from the LAS-98 Laser Cannon played with the shadows. Cutting through the gloom, they slammed into the horde, blooming with beautiful seeds of Liberty that consumed everything around them.
"Get the Pelican into the air, we don't have time to mess around here."
The hangar doors of the Freedom Rider opened—releasing a pot-bellied assault shuttle with open sides. Several Helldivers, legs dangling, sat on the edge of this flying vessel. Enthusiastically loading their guns and preparing for battle.
"Create a fire screen," I waved toward the widest section, which was already littered with corpses and burning pieces. Softly banking its wings, the shuttle pilot dashed forward, spinning a sharp arc and tilting slightly to the side, giving the gunners a magnificent view, "everyone else—prepare for a forced march..."
My words were interrupted by the roar of shots and the explosion of an Anti-Personnel Minefield rocket, which burst into a thousand fragments and small projectiles. Blowing out the last windows, knocking the hell out of buildings, and overturning the wrecks of burning speeders and cars. And, at the same time, it scattered a heap of bodies across the area.
"What dumbass thought of firing that shit within city limits?" Wiping the remains of someone's guts off my helmet with my thumb, I switched to the general channel. "Fire at the second landing pad!"
"Will be done, boss."
The gunner's joyful shout was a bit deafening. Packed with adrenaline to the brim, another fanatic didn't waste time and ten seconds later—the rocket flew off into the distance.
Only none of us apparently remembered that in the hangars of such small spaceports—they usually store fuel as well, since separate warehouses and rooms for such things are not allocated.
A huge explosion knocked us all to the ground, and the Pelican swayed dangerously toward the earth, flying too close to us, while its belly knocked over the standing Necromorphs.
"For fuck's sake, pilot report." Cursing, I didn't stop firing even while lying down, for the pressure of the pressing freaks didn't think of weakening. Contempt for pain and huge numbers allowed them to ignore such events.
"Everything's blown to hell, sir. There's a huge crater and a fire there now..."
"Damn you... And where is that shitty obelisk now?"
"Sir! Observing a shuttle takeoff from the outskirts." Passing the image to my helmet, the pilot thought of nothing better than to start firing the twin guns at the ship. The first shots went wide, but with each new one, the red laser bolts crept closer until they tore a wing off the little ship. "Got the darling! Sir, I hit the ship..."
"Good boy, now send me its geolocation so we can finish all this shit." Stepping behind the backs of my guys, who continued to shoot monsters with enthusiasm as if in a shooting gallery, I began to draw up a plan for the further battle. "This will be simple... Pilot, get the Rider up—cover us from the skies."
****
Leaping onto an overturned Speeder, I jumped onto its roof and, with a running start, flew with both feet into the sternum of one of the Brutes. Flipping over, I raised the Blaster and, with a long burst, riddled another monster that had tackled my soldier and was already about to bite into his helmet with its foul face.
Get up on one knee. Change the magazine. The helmet catches movement from the side, which means time for close combat.
The bayonet-knife is in my hand long before the monster jumped to me. Holding out my left hand, I catch it in the air and, with a couple of strong strikes, rip open the belly—releasing the intestines. Covered from head to toe in its vile, stinking flesh, I roll to the side—dodging a pair of blade-arms.
The blaster rifle is tossed aside. With my second hand, I snatch the Pistol and, offhand, drive three laser bolts into the bastard's head, then run up to it point-blank.
Pistol back in the holster. With a precise throw, the knife is left in the head of another abomination creeping up from the side. Dodge a claw thrust, step half a pace to the side, and break the ugly limb with both hands.
The power armor creaks from the strain. My back is drenched in sweat, and my breathing becomes heavier.
But the enemy's resistance is broken, and the huge blade-arm is driven into its own belly. With a direct kick, I break the enemy's knee, bending the limb the wrong way.
A couple of fist lunges, grab it by the semblance of a neck, and twist one hundred and eighty degrees with a sickening crunch.
Another roll. Pick up the knife, snatch the Blaster, aim at the approaching targets.
I shoot the first one in flight; I have to dodge the second one's lunge and, spinning around my axis, use the momentum to drive the knife into the back of its head, then empty half a magazine cell into its back, burning out the spine.
The creature slithers before me. It roars and thrashes, trying to stand and somehow reach me... But the broken spine prevents it from doing anything. A couple of seconds pass before it goes quiet forever... When my foot crashes down on the knife left in the occipital bone.
Crushing the rotten skull, breaking it and practically separating it from the body, I look around.
A pair of Helldivers were moving forward, alternating fire at the enemy. The streams of laser fire didn't stop for a second. Deformed enemy bodies flew in all directions from them, scattering their limbs and guts around before their death.
One of the soldiers climbed onto the roof of a newspaper stand and threw a beacon for a strike into the middle of the approaching horde with Olympic form. The blinking red ball, having flown nearly a hundred meters, is lost among the numerous figures of Necromorphs.
The grotesque freaks push each other, ready to go over heads just to be the first to reach the tasty target.
"Fuck you."
Laser fire rains down from the sky. A hail of incandescent plasma burns the Brutes to ashes, plowing up the street and leaving only ashen mounds. Turbolasers demolish small houses, red beams indiscriminately iron the city—clearing a path for us.
A battered buggy flies out from the nearest turn. Mowing down Brutes, the desert machine spins in place and swerves frequently. The entire cabin is smeared with blood and monster slime, and the wheels enthusiastically wind up a couple of tangled heads.
The roar of a machine gun behind me. A pair of soldiers in heavy armor walk with a slow, measured pace. Ignoring the rare monsters that reach them, they step over the bodies falling at their feet, ceaselessly sweeping their barrels in different directions.
"The Chief to all, continue moving, we're almost at the target..."
No sooner had I finished speaking than the ground beneath our feet began to crack. For a few seconds, a small rumble and weak tremors made it hard to stay on our feet before everything went quiet, only to explode with new force.
Splitting the rare asphalt roads, burying the last surviving houses—a huge tentacle burst from underground, seeking to wrap around the ship flying at low altitude.
Swerving aside, the Corellian corvette flared its engines, instantly flying further away. The surreal sight of a giant ship maneuvering with such speed—briefly paused the battle.
A roar echoed from underground. The tentacle that rushed in pursuit was scorched by fire. Huge scabs all over the surface began to burst, releasing something disgusting, and from some, small creatures resembling squids even poured out.
Spinning in the air in a wide arc, the Freedom Rider returned to the fray without fear, concentrating all its strength on the giant limb, temporarily leaving us without cover.
"Everyone to me!" First to stand in a circle, I began to liberally douse the area with laser fire. The tibanna batteries didn't have time to settle into the blaster's slot before they had to be changed. A foul, unpleasant aroma began to emanate from the weapon as the mechanisms inside began to slowly melt. "Pelican, for fuck's sake! Find where this thing is coming from..."
A new tentacle burst from underground. Crashing flat onto the earth, it opened—releasing a small horde of monsters near us, who immediately rushed into battle.
"Fire on the Brutes! Fire!"
"Purification by fire!"
Stepping forward, my favorite flamethrower guy, Spencer, pushed the lever to the stop, firing a dense stream inside the passage in the tentacle. The roaring flame greedily clung to the soft, rotting flesh, hungrily devouring it and making the creature jerk indignantly.
"BURN!"
Paying no attention to the enemies approaching from all sides, Spencer followed his target with a slow, measured step. The armored glass on his helmet followed the burning flesh intently, reflecting thousands of glints of flame.
"THIS IS THE FIRE OF LIBERTY!"
"Cover him." Pointing a finger at the half-wit who had stepped outside the perimeter, I was the first to move forward, knocking down a monster that had jumped onto Spencer's back in mid-flight. Then another and another, more and more... Unstoppable crowds rushed toward the Helldiver's defenseless back, hoping to cut off the flow of all-consuming fire.
I threw the rifle away. Two steps forward, taken almost in jumps, and at the last moment, I manage to catch another mutant by its tail-like appendage. Yanking it out of its jump, I spin on the spot, slamming the freak into the ground with all my might.
The others close in nearby, incidentally riddling the Necromorph with plasma. Standing in a semi-circle behind Spencer's back, we shot anyone who dared to approach.
"Commander, located the point where the tentacles are stretching from. Two hundred meters north and three dozen underground..."
The pilot didn't have time to finish. A new limb of the huge monster burst from underground, knocking down our shuttle with a single blow—instantly killing everyone inside. Several more markers disappeared from the internal helmet screen.
Turning around, I see a huge black monster, much larger and hardier than its kin—tearing one of our boys to pieces, as if enjoying dousing itself with my soldier's blood.
"Fucking abomination... The Chief to Freedom Rider, drop a couple of rockets on the specified coordinates." Without listening for an answer, I snatched up the knife and Pistol again, then broke into a run toward the huge black bastard. "You dare kill the servants of democracy, Brute?"
Turning toward me, the freak opened a huge maw. Its lower jaw split to the sides, demonstrating a dense row of sharp teeth. Unlike the other Brutes, it had a standard set of limbs, only its upper arms were turned into a semblance of blades.
A bloated chest, powerful shoulders, and muscle-covered legs that tensed the moment I shouted.
From head to toe, it was covered in tattoos and some symbols, the mere sight of which made my head ache... But it was still just an ordinary fucking mutant, without brains.
Throwing the knife, I pierced the bastard's eye socket, making it jerk its head back. Twitching in pain, which was extremely surprising, the monster tried to pull the blade out of its head, but the deformed arms couldn't do a damn thing.
In the meantime, I pulled out a couple of thermal detonators, which I threw at the creature's feet without ceremony. The flash of the explosion tore the lower part of its body to pieces, after which I emptied an entire plasma battery into the carcass.
"So much for the attitude... What the hell is this?"
Barely dodging the monster that had risen to its feet again, I watched with disbelief as its body regenerated, literally restoring its former appearance in seconds.
The knife fell with a clang onto the pavement as the newly healthy eye pushed it out of the socket with force. The torn and scorched legs were restored, and the right stump grew back in a few moments.
All this time, I was slowly backing away, opening the distance with the creature.
Meeting eyes, for a couple of seconds we stood silently opposite each other before the Necromorph moved toward me, stepping heavily over the debris.
"Well, fuck that. Spencer, get over here, burn the bastard to hell."
"Always ready for that." The roar of the flame stopped for a moment, after which a charred, soot-covered flamethrower guy, drenched from head to toe in guts and ash, appeared nearby. Raising his weapon, he joyfully stomped forward, quickly putting the monster on its knees. Enveloping it in fire from head to toe, he continued to shout something until he approached point-blank and pressed the nozzle right against the body, bracing one foot against the monster's belly. His fireproof armor glowed dangerously hot, but the mad pyromaniac seemed not to notice. "BURN IN THE FIRE OF LIBERTY!"
Then an explosion flared on the horizon, and a long, dying wail of some large beast swept across the area. A few seconds of silence seemed deafening before a mangled and wounded tentacle hit the ground with a crash, and the numerous mutants around us—fell like broken dolls.
Sith magic ceased to function, and all the corpses raised by it stopped their foul semblance of unlife.
One could say this was the end. But I knew the foundations for creating sequels too well.
"The Chief to Rider. Prepare the Hellbomb..." Thinking for a couple of seconds and casting a final glance at the charred black Necromorph regenerator, I decided to play it safe. "No, better prepare all of them. We'll blow the whole city to hell to make sure nothing survives, and the archaeological camp too."
***
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