by S. A. Lusher
“Greg, Kyra, and Linda, I'm giving you three the task of hunting down the piece. Get in, grab it, and get out. Campbell, you're with me. There's two likely areas where Dark Ops will have set up their headquarters. One of them is the best place to put the bomb, and that's where we’re going. I'm going to send another squad over to the secondary area. Questions?” he asked.
There were none.
“Then let's get to it.”
* * * * *
Above ground, the fighting was worse than ever. The halls ran red with blood and the Augmented appeared to be in the process of establishing their own base within the Dark Ops HQ. Already, Greg could hear the machine sounds of ordinary men and women being transformed into Augmented.
Greg emerged into a messhall with a great deal of backup. At first, it was very simple. He and the dozen and a half others opened fire on everything that moved. A minute later, when the gunfire fell silent and was replaced by the sound of many people reloading, there was nothing in that room but the survivors.
“Move out!” Mike called.
Since Linda had had time to study the map and was the most familiar with the area, she led the way, Greg and Kyra backing her up. The trio left the messhall, opting to use a smaller corridor tucked away behind the kitchen area that would begin them on their trip. Linda explained in a low voice that the final component they were looking for was in a storage area on the far, right side of the Dark Ops compound.
They came to the end of the corridor and opened the door. Immediately the sounds of battle spilled in. Greg stepped out into the corridor. There was at least nothing waiting for them within the immediate vicinity.
The trio set out, making their way through the network of bloodied, flickering corridors that Dark Ops HQ had begun. They listened to the screams of dying men, the unholy roars of the Undead, and the merciless machine whirl and whine of the Augmented. For the most part, they seemed to be keeping to themselves, for which Greg was grateful. They managed to stick to the back corridors and shadows until they reached their destination.
“Okay, it's in here,” Linda murmured, working at a control panel while Greg and Kyra watched her back.
“Can you get it open?” Greg asked.
“Yeah, it's just locked. I think a lot of the doors have gone into lockdown, what with the Augmented invasion. And probably the Undead outbreak,” Linda replied.
There was a soft chime and the door opened. Greg turned around, finger on the trigger, but nothing waited for them within. It was just an empty warehouse, smaller than most, nothing but shelves and crates. They slipped in, closed the door behind them and began hunting. It wasn't long before they ran into a problem.
“Shit,” Linda muttered.
“What?” Greg asked, but already his hopes fell.
The area where the part was supposed to reside had been disturbed. Several crates had been taken down off the shelves and pried open, and it looked like more were missing. Linda found an infopad set down on a foldout table scattered with spare parts and tools, lit by a work-light. It looked like someone had been busy at some point.
“It's been moved,” she murmured. “Underground, into another warehouse.”
“Did Dark Ops do it?” Kyra asked.
Linda frowned, studying the infopad for another long moment.
Finally, she shook her head. “No, I don't think so. This looks like a work order from before Dark Ops or any of this shit happened.”
Greg heaved a sigh. “Well, let's go then. How far away?”
“Not too far,” Linda promised.
They left the storage bay.
“There's a cargo lift we'll have to ride down to a portion of the mining tunnels and caverns. It's the only way to reach the warehouse we need,” Linda explained as they moved back down the corridor, winding their way deeper into the complex.
“What the hell is this thing doing down there? Why would they move it?” Greg asked.
“I don't know. Melissa did a good job but,” Linda shrugged. “Sometimes stupid orders were given or shit gets lost. Miners aren't exactly the smartest bunch.”
Greg remained unconvinced, but held his silence. Something wasn't exactly right about this whole thing. They turned another corner and spied a group of Lancers going to town on a squad of Drones. Kyra raised his rifle, but Greg halted her.
“Let's let them have it out first,” he said.
She snorted. “Fair enough.”
Greg watched the two inhuman groups rip into each other, red and black blood and sparks flying on the air. In the end, the Rippers won out, their serrated claws rending flesh and metal alike, tearing off arms and heads. Greg, Kyra, and Linda put down the handful of surviving Undead as the last of the Drones fell.
“The lift's at the end of the corridor,” Linda said, setting off.
Their boots squelched in pools of fresh blood as they stepped over the fresh corpses. Greg activated his radio as they came to the lift and opened it up. Nothing inside but more blood and a few corpses.
They stepped in.
“Campbell, how's it going?” he asked.
“Like hell, man. We're having to fight for every goddamn inch. You?” Campbell replied through a haze of gunfire and explosions.
“Irritating on my end. Someone moved the goddamn piece, we're headed down,” Greg replied, pushing the down button.
“Hurry up, we could really use your help up here.”
“Understood.”
The lift started with a jerk and descended into the ground. Greg waited impatiently, unable to shake this feeling of raw tension that mounted. He ran a quick weapons check, making sure his rifle was ready for action, and switched to three-round bursts, just to make himself feel better. The lift was taking so long he had time to check his pistol, too.
“Nervous?” Linda asked.
“You aren't?” Greg replied.
Linda opened her mouth, then closed it and frowned. “Yeah, I am.”
“We all are. Let's just grab this thing and get the hell out of here,” Kyra said.
The elevator ground to a halt. The doors opened to admit them to a huge cavern, lit by powerful work-lights mounted on the walls and ground. A lot of huge cargo crates, pieces of equipment and heavy-duty vehicles were spread out across the area.
“This is familiar,” Greg muttered as they stepped out. “Which way?”
“To the right,” Linda replied.
Greg took a step, and then hesitated. A familiar tremor began rippling through the area, making some of the less stable lights sway, causing shadows to swell and retreat. Black terror shot through him as the tremors grew louder, more powerful.
“What the hell is that?” Kyra whispered.
“I think-”
From one of the larger tunnels across the way, the titanic spider emerged, glistening with black rot and cybernetic enhancements.
“Holy shit!” Linda cried.
Greg's radio crackled. “Greg, if you go quietly and willingly, I might be persuaded to spare your friend's lives. I'm afraid I need you. You're the only living entity left that has the Pure Cure within them.”
It was Erebus.
“Go fuck yourself!” Greg snapped.
He aimed his rifle and began firing. Kyra and Linda joined him.
Erebus manufactured a sigh. “Very well.”
The spider advanced on them, seemingly impervious to the gunfire. The bullets either ricocheted off the metal components or were absorbed by the enormous body. As Greg depleted his first magazine and hastily reloaded, he realized this wasn't going to work.
“Linda! Any ideas?”
“Follow me!” she shouted.
Greg hoped for a little bit more of a plan than that, but there was no time. The spider was nearly upon them. Linda took off, darting through the derelict hulks of machinery, and Greg and Kyra hurried after her. They dodged between earth-movers, drillers, and crushers, past huge drill bits, large curves of metal, and piles of cargo crates. Behind them, the colossal spider roared and came
after them, throwing these things out of the way as though they were toys. Greg’s heart leaped into his throat as the ground shook.
Linda led them out of the main cavern and down a side tunnel that was still big enough to admit the spider. Greg tossed a glance over his shoulder as he sprinted along, the terror and adrenaline making him that much faster. The huge metal-studded arachnid was making shockingly rapid progress through the narrowing tunnel.
“Where are we going?” Greg demanded.
“Here!” Linda stopped suddenly and moved to the left-hand side of the tunnel. She smashed a control panel next to a massive garage-style door.
“That's not going to stop it,” Kyra said.
“I know,” Linda replied.
The door opened. As soon as they were able, the three ducked in. The whole area shook and trembled as the spider approached. Greg looked around. They'd come to an enormous, warehouse-sized room absolutely packed with black barrels. A horrible, pungent smell hit him as Linda led them deeper.
“God, what is that smell?” he moaned.
“Fuel,” Linda explained hastily as they dodged through the maze of barrels. “Our company is cheap. A lot of these vehicles are old and run on a cheaper fuel source. Liquid. Smells like crap. It's pretty volatile. Going to use it as a bomb.”
“Holy shit.”
“This room is specifically reinforced, so it shouldn't cause much damage to the surrounding area. But anything inside...”
The spider crashed into the room.
The trio rushed on. As they reached the end of the room, Linda opened up a door and hesitated in the doorway.
“If you've got any grenades, give them to me.”
Greg and Kyra passed their scant grenades to Linda, who hurried over to the nearest stack of barrels and set them in a pile. She kept one for herself and retreated.
“Go!” She pulled the pin and hurled the grenade back into the fuel storage bay.
Linda smashed her fist on the keypad by the door and it slammed shut.
“Move!”
They'd come to a corridor and sprinted down it. They barely made it to the end and into another room before a tremendous series of explosions, muffled by the reinforced metal encasing the room, began to sound.
It went on for so long that some small part of Greg was terrified they'd caused some kind of chain reaction that would engulf the whole of the moon and everything on it. After a long moment, they finally subsided.
“Holy hell,” Kyra whispered.
“Let's go make sure,” Greg said.
They moved back down the corridor and gathered at the door. It emanated an uncomfortable heat. Linda hesitated for a moment, and then opened it. A wave of raw, dry heat, reeking of fuel, rolled out and gagged them. A great deal of smoke was still in the air, but even through it, Greg could see pieces of the spider everywhere.
“Jesus,” he muttered. “At least it's dead.”
“Yeah...come on. There's another way back we can use,” Linda replied.
She closed the door, and they turned and began making their way back through the area. A few moments later, they'd found their way into the warehouse containing the part. It was empty of life. It seemed the only thing that had been hanging around down in the underground was the giant spider, for which Greg was grateful.
They spent another few moments hunting down the spare part.
“Here it is,” Linda said, pulling it from a crate. She stared at it for a long moment, and then turned to face Greg. “You take it.”
He looked down at the same piece being offered to him. “Why?”
“If anyone's going to get out of here, it's you.”
“I don't have any more chance than you do,” Greg replied uncomfortably, but he accepted the part and tucked it away in a protected pocket with the four spare infoclips of all the data they'd stolen from Dark Ops.
They headed back.
* * * * *
By the time they got back and made their way deeper into the compound, it became obvious that the fighting had only gotten worse. While they had a free moment, Greg tried to get back into contact with Campbell.
“What's happening?”
“A whole bunch of shit. We picked wrong, Williams isn't where we're going. We've managed to figure out he's in the other likely location. We're pressing on to deliver the bomb, so he'll just get taken out in the blast,” Campbell replied.
Hot rage tore at Greg's chest. “No. I want to see him dead, personally.”
“Your choice, but I'd advise against it. He's probably got something really nasty hidden up his sleeve. If you're dead set on it though, his HQ is set up in the hangar. Linda should know where it is, Mike says.”
Greg glanced at Linda, who nodded. “Okay, I'm on it.”
He closed the channel and looked at Linda and Kyra. “Tell me where it is, then go link up with Campbell and help with the bomb.”
“We're not playing this shit again, Greg,” Kyra said. “If you're going, I'm going.”
“I'd like to go, too. I really want to see that asshole dead,” Linda added.
Greg sighed, too tired to argue. “Fine, lead the way.”
Linda nodded, shouldered her rifle and set off. Greg and Kyra followed her.
“So this place has a hangar, too?” Greg asked.
“Yes, but it's pretty disused compared to the other one. Pure luck we managed to snag the hangar with the only real working ship,” Linda replied.
As they came to a messhall, the time for talking suddenly ceased. A dozen Dark Ops troops mopped up some Undead resistance. Greg let off the first shot while they still had the advantage, shattering a dark visor in a spray of blood and glass. Linda and Kyra each took down one before the three of them were forced to retreat to cover. The next several minutes were spent playing a very deadly game where everyone came out from behind their cover to take potshots at each other. When it was over, the Dark Ops troops were dead, lying on the ground in pools of ever-widening blood. Greg hastily reloaded as he emerged from cover.
“Come on,” he said.
They moved through the messhall, pausing briefly to salvage whatever magazines they could from the corpses they'd produced. As they did, it came to Greg that he didn't even see Dark Ops personnel as people anymore. They were as inhuman and empty to him as the Undead or the Augmented.
The thought disturbed him on some level, but he also knew it was for the best. Dark Ops couldn't be reasoned with and they showed no mercy. The trio finished up and left the messhall, hurrying down a series of battle-stricken corridors, managing to stick to the background and let the three armies battle it out.
Greg’s pulse quickened. Williams. He was just up ahead, his head missing a bullet that Greg would be happy to deliver. They came to the hangar at last. It was accessible through a pair of open doors at the end of a long corridor. It looked like the Augmented had beaten them to it. Greg hurried forward. He worried he wouldn't get to kill Williams.
“Let's clear it out,” he said.
He, Kyra, and Linda hung back, picking their targets carefully, putting down as many of the Drones and soldiers as they could. Greg sighted heads and faceplates, spraying blood and sparks on the air, dropping corpses. His body immediately shifted into an automatic mode, his muscles taking over for his mind, eliminating thought from the process of events, leaving only action. He stared down his sights at a Drone tearing into a Dark Ops trooper, waited for it to make the killing blow, then fired, putting three rounds in the thing's skull.
His sights shifted, finding the faceplate of a trooper and he fired, shattering it and dropping the bastard. Another turn, another squeeze, another corpse. The bullets went in and the blood sprayed out in a beautiful crimson mist.
Greg continued like this, reloading twice, until the last body dropped. As the battle haze lifted and thought returned, Greg looked around, hunting for Williams. He knew that he hadn't seen him the entire time.
Where was he?
The hangar was full of c
rates, tables, large pieces of equipment and machinery. Dozens of corpses littered floor. Blood ran like a river, rising like a tide from all the death. Spent shell casings carpeted everything.
But no Williams.
An intercom clicked on.
“I'm genuinely impressed, Greg. That you've managed to make it this far is nothing short of a miracle. I wonder...is it you, or is it the Cure, somehow enhancing you? I notice you're a few friends short since our last encounter.” Williams' voice came rolling out.
Greg spied a closed off area made of steel and glass in the back right corner. A control room. Williams stood in it, alone, smiling, wearing a bloodied uniform. Without saying a word, Greg aimed and fired.
The bullets hit the glass.
Nothing happened.
Williams laughed. “Don't bother, Greg. Miners make things to last around here, for the most part. Glass is among them. I'm quite safe in here. You, however, are well and truly fucked out there.”
“Don't count on it, Williams. How long do you think it'll take us to cut into that room?” Greg replied, making for the door.
“Unimpeded? Probably a couple of minutes. I assure you, you will not be unimpeded,” Williams informed him happily.
He pressed a button on a terminal he stood next to.
Greg hesitated as he heard hydraulics move. He looked around and spied across the room, a massive door slowly opening, rising into the ceiling. The next thing he saw were feet. Big feet. As the door continued to rise into the ceiling, legs became visible. They were bulky legs, rippling with raw muscle. The door ascended yet still, revealing a waistline, a torso, the hands...that weren't hands, but were big and metal.
An extremely broad chest made of carved muscle.
And then a head.
A Berserker.
Not an ordinary Berserker. This one was studded with metal. One hand ended in a wide-bore muzzle that reminded Greg of the flamethrower he'd used on Cage. The other hand ended in what appeared to be a minigun.
Its head was encased in glistening technology and, perhaps worst of all, perched on its right shoulder like some kind of demented bird of old was what appeared to be a rocket launcher.