Reggie scanned the two platoons on his tactical display. Without June or Lin relaying exact hit point totals on the enemy’s armor, it was down to colors on a wireframe and good old-fashioned eyeballing the damage they’d done.
At a glance, however, they looked like maybe they’d given Blood Typhoon more than they’d taken in return.
“Regroup. Fall back. Meet at Oscar-Zero-Two.”
“That’ll put us in a canyon between the outside of one of the smaller craters and the inner wall of the main one,” Chase said, pointing out what Reggie already knew. “We’ll be signing up for a fight in a narrow space.”
“Thermoplast!” Frank shouted with glee.
“Thermopylae,” Chase corrected.
“I was thinking more like an Old West gunfight,” Reggie replied. “Who’s up for a shooting contest?”
It was a gamble. Ghost Platoon still had maneuverability on their side, but they couldn’t make use of Diablo and Vortex’s speed to their fullest extent while dragging Gremlin along. The Tiger was a beast in a fight, but it wasn’t a nimble juggernaut.
The soldier in Reggie said to find a defensible spot and dig in, make the enemy pay to advance on their position.
Years of commanding a faction nagged at him to withdraw from a fight that was no longer the sure thing it had appeared on paper. But that wasn’t an option.
The gamer side of Reggie wanted to go mano a mano—settle things in exactly the Old West style he’d just suggested on the radio.
The tactician, though, had a different plan in mind, and he couldn’t afford the chance that Chase or Frank would talk him out of it.
Blood Typhoon’s remaining juggernauts knew they were there. Rather than splitting their forces and trying to get cute, they pressed the clear advantage they possessed and came at Ghost Platoon head on.
“Focus fire on the Wyvern!” Reggie ordered. “Nothing fancy. Center of mass and make sure.”
[Wyvern – 92% To Hit]
It wasn’t the same as his usual beat-down of hapless backwater garrisons, but Reggie would take it against what was presumably a pilot with maxed-out dodge perks. There wasn’t room for fancy footwork in the chasm of crater walls.
Reggie fired and scored a hit.
The Wyvern’s torso turned yellow in his heads-up display.
Frank fired.
Chase fired.
Blue beams of coherent light stabbed at the Wyvern from multiple directions. The Blood Typhoon juggernauts fired back, their combined fire focusing on Diablo.
“Oh shit!” Chase shouted. “They’re gonna—”
Presumably, Chase’s next words would have been something to the effect of “finish me” because that’s exactly what happened mid-sentence. Diablo’s cockpit exploded.
Seconds later, Reggie fired again with 89 percent to hit and finished off the Wyvern.
[Sole Objective: Destroy Enemy Juggernauts 3/5]
“And then we were two,” Frank opined.
“Fuck it,” Reggie said. “Charge.”
“Huh?” Frank asked, seeking clarification.
“Do it!” Reggie ordered. “I’ve got a plan.”
Lin had banged up both Dragons, if only slightly, during her brief encounter with them. Frank ought to have no trouble finishing one of them. All Reggie had to do was find a way to either destroy the last one or occupy it long enough for Frank to come rescue him.
It was time to put his rusty Silent Shuriken skills to use. Vortex drew its Ninjato sword as Reggie drove it into the face of the rightmost Dragon.
The Dragons from Blood Typhoon appeared stunned. Frank charging was no big surprise. The Tiger class was notorious for brawling. But a Wolverine giving up 30 tons to its opponent wasn’t something that seemed to have occurred to their adversaries.
Frank and Reggie each hit one of the Dragons. Gremlin lowered a shoulder at the last second to drive its chosen Dragon off its feet, slamming it to the crater floor for a presumably large chunk of damage. Reggie wasn’t watching Frank’s opponent on the tactical display. He had an entirely different maneuver to plan for. Rather than take the enemy Dragon down by sheer engine power and mass—an advantage Gremlin had, and Vortex didn’t—Reggie dove for the Dragon’s knees.
And he hit “Eject.”
Chapter Nineteen
Reggie sprang free of his sprawling juggernaut. The crater floor shook as the Blood Typhoon Dragon fell heavily atop Vortex. Breath rasping through the artificial respirator, he darted aside to avoid being crushed.
This was crazy.
Reggie was an ant among giants.
But that’s why this had a chance of working.
While Frank and his victim slugged it out fifty meters away, Reggie’s opponent bore down and pinned Vortex to prevent the smaller juggernaut from rising. Operating on the simple autopilot instruction of “stand up and go forward,” it was nonetheless providing the illusion of a pilot still at the controls. As a fist like a cement mixer slammed down into Vortex time and again, the Dragon delivering the pounding was on its hands and knees, not paying attention as Reggie came up behind it.
Commando spec, they said.
Be equipped for anything, they said.
When Chase had anticipated combat outside of juggernauts, Reggie couldn’t imagine this is what he’d had in mind.
Despite a charge rifle slung over his back and a blaster strapped to his thigh, Reggie wasn’t about to start shooting the exposed backside of the Dragon. He was a mosquito to it. At best, the charge rifle had about a 50-50 chance per shot to do a point of damage to a juggernaut’s armor. Even on a crit, it wouldn’t likely manage two. The blaster pistol wouldn’t even manage that much.
Feeling a little like Batman, Reggie deployed a magnetic grappling gun and shot a line that clamped to the Dragon’s back near the shoulder joint. The shot looked nigh impossible, but that was the old Reggie thinking that. Commando Reggie ate excuses for breakfast and shit miracles when it came to aiming small arms. Without a tactical display to show him the odds, the shot merely worked on the first try.
With a sudden lurch that he felt in the bottom of his stomach, the line yanked Reggie skyward. Ten meters up, he planted his feet and struck the hard, red-painted steel of the Blood Typhoon juggernaut. It rocked like a ship on a stormy sea as it pummeled Reggie’s helpless Vortex, still squirming under its final command. He should never have been able to hold on.
But those points in AGI paid for themselves that day. Grabbing at bolt heads and the edges of armor plates, Reggie ascended the Dragon like a combination bull rider and mountain climber. When he reached the head, he paused to pull out an explosive charge. Flipping the timer to five seconds, he swung down by the grappling line—still magnetically adhered to the Dragon’s back—and peered in the front window.
The pilot, finally finished dispatching Vortex, was just maneuvering the Dragon to its feet as he met Reggie’s eye. With no way to tell if the guy was on outside microphone pickups, and with the filter mask muffling his voice, Reggie skipped the parting verbal taunt that was on the tip of his tongue and merely offered a flippant salute as he jammed the explosive charge on the metalized glass.
:05
:04
Reggie tucked his feet up and pressed them on cockpit glass.
:03
He leaped away, unclipping the grappling line just before it tugged him back.
:02
:01
The explosion cored out the Dragon’s cockpit, and the pilot along with it.
[Sole Objective: Destroy Enemy Juggernauts 4/5]
Reggie’s rocket boots kicked on, slowing the last meter of his fall to a jarring thud rather than broken bones. He watched the flames die away and the smoke billow out as the Dragon wobbled. The computer-controlled balance system had just been incinerated. Behind his breather mask, Reggie grinned as it crashed atop the ruin of Vortex.
[Sole Objective Complete: Destroy Enemy Juggernauts 5/5]
Reggie had just enough time to tur
n his head and see Gremlin’s fist stuck into the chest of the final Blood Typhoon Dragon before the fireworks lit the sky, along with a holographic projection with letters the size of city streets reading:
WINNER: GHOST PLATOON.
No XP.
No Loot.
Just victory.
Seconds later, the battlefield was gone. Reggie and Frank reappeared in a casual green room lounge where June, Chase, and Lin were waiting for them.
“That was amazing!” Lin exclaimed.
June threw her arms around Reggie, practically choking him.
Chase cackled like a madman and punched a triumphant fist in the air.
Frank raised a single eyebrow and gave Reggie a stern look. “You’re crazier than a pickle jar full of piranhas.”
Chapter Twenty
The afterglow of victory was short-lived. Reggie and Frank’s arrival in the post-battle lounge had kicked off a brief interview by an esports reporter holding one of those old-fashioned foam-topped microphones adorned with a Valhalla West logo. It was a flurry of vapid, “what does it feel like being a winner” questions that lasted under a minute. Then the five of them were unceremoniously dumped back on Nibelheim, right in the same bar booth they’d been summoned from.
A chorus of cheers and congratulations greeted them instantly. Every screen in the bar was tuned to the Ragnarok Showdown preliminaries. Even with the next match in full swing, it wasn’t enough of a distraction to keep the Wounded Legion troops from noticing that their general and his team had returned.
Reggie pressed his way through the crowd, shaking hands and getting clapped on the back. He turned down multiple offers for drinks before finally relenting and exiting the bar with a full pint glass in his hand.
The rest of Ghost Platoon followed him out. The bickering started the instant the elevator doors closed behind them.
“There was no way that should have been that close,” Chase snapped. “Those guys were scrubs. Class-A scrubs. We made them look like the Avengers when they weren’t even the Scooby Do gang.”
“Blame June,” Lin said, aiming an accusatory finger. “Her so-called scouting got both of us fragged.”
“Nice cover fire,” June countered, slapping the finger away. “You didn’t even slow them down.”
“You practically slammed face-first into them,” Lin shot back. “Reggie should never have ordered me to save your sorry ass.”
“You could have shot better,” Chase added in an undertone.
“What’s that, little man?” Lin asked. “You whiffed on your entire first volley.”
“Reggie missed as many shots as I did,” Chase protested.
The elevator stopped. The doors opened. The private casino loomed just outside. No one moved.
“Don’t drag Reggie into this,” June snapped. “That little stunt of his at the end might have saved the whole tournament for us.”
Frank grunted. “I’d have handled it.”
Chase ignored him and stepped to within an inch of June. “Fine. I’ll leave Reggie out. How’d we go from picking off a stray sheep to being down 4 to 3? You got you and Lin killed out there. That was amateur hour.”
“They were ready for me,” June replied. “They’re pros. It happens.”
“I’ll be reviewing the match,” Chase threatened. “I’ll see for myself. But I’m not buying that your head was in the game getting spotted and outrun so easily. You should have left yourself plenty of time and an escape route. Jesus, what the hell do we even practice for, otherwise?”
“Anyone got any beef with me?” Frank asked during the brief lull where Chase and June were both catching their breath.
No one said anything.
“Good,” Frank said, stepping around the argument at the center of the elevator and heading for the nearest NPC waitress. “I’m having a drink. A win’s a win.”
Reggie followed him. There wasn’t any lack of blame to spread around, but there would be time to argue later. Right now, there was still a tournament to worry about.
[Ragnarok Showdown Battle: Ghost Platoon vs. Dark Ocean Pirates]
20:00
19:59
“What the fuck?” Lin exclaimed.
“You got it too?” June asked, sharing a glance at the woman who just seconds ago had been accusing her of nearly costing Ghost Platoon a match.
Chase gave a nod. “I think we all did.”
“Bah,” Frank grumbled and threw back the content of a freshly delivered bottle. “Not even time to work out the kinks in the old stomach.”
A countdown hung on the edge of Reggie’s vision with no option to dismiss.
19:55
19:54
“Anyone wanting to unload any baggage before this next match better do it quick,” Reggie warned them. “Chase, we know anything about our opponent?”
“They won a match already, same as us,” Chase said with a shrug. “They weren’t on my radar. Solid middle-to-lower packers.”
“You said that last time,” Frank pointed out.
“This time,” Chase replied with a raised finger. “I mean it.”
Chapter Twenty-One
When the timer ran down to all zeroes, Reggie found himself back in the crater, seated at the controls of Vortex. A sensation of déjà vu came over him. There hadn’t been the comfort of travel to get him here, to ground him in the now. One second he was sitting across the table from his platoon mates, the next he was here in the arena.
“—any second,” Chase said, finishing a sentence begun back in Nibelheim.
“And the battle commences!” the annoying announcer voice blared.
[Sole Objective: Destroy Enemy Juggernauts 0/5]
“Same plan as last time,” Reggie ordered. “Nobody who had a battle already would have had time to watch our replay. I want better execution this time around.”
“It would be nice if I lived this time,” Lin added. “I didn’t lose progress like a regular death, but I didn’t get any XP for that win.”
“Picky, picky,” Chase scolded as he followed Reggie around the wall of the nearest crater in anticipation of June finding them a straggler to corner. “You act like a free death was a penalty.”
“You want me level 50 for the main event or not?”
“This whole thing is main event,” Frank growled. “And if you two yammering ninnies don’t start acting like it, our main event’s gonna be short as hell.”
Reggie watched on the tactical map, only keeping a scant eye on his piloting. Until there were enemy juggernauts in targeting range, his attention was best kept on Ghost Platoon’s deployment.
“We got screwed,” Chase complained, desperately in need of filling the first silence of the battle. “If there had only been 128 teams, there wouldn’t be a second round of weeding.”
“So, we’re one of the unlucky seven,” Lin said. “Suck it up and deal.”
“Fourteen,” Chase said pedantically. “For every team above 128, they needed a team to pair them against. We’re still in the unlucky bottom 10 percent, but—”
“We played last round like a bottom 10 percent team,” Reggie snapped over the radio. “And so help me, if we can’t keep on task, I’m going to shut down in the jug-to-jug comm system. You’ll each only get to hear and reply directly to me.”
Chase gave an audible shudder. “Roger that, big guy. Shutting up.”
TARGET DATA ACQUIRED.
“Got ‘em,” June reported. “Juliette-Two-Two. Dark Ocean Pirates are running a speed build. All five are in Jackals, traveling as a pack. They’re looking to enact our hunting strategy but without the lone scout.”
“Get out of there,” Reggie ordered. He checked the map, cross-referencing the landscape with the blips of Dark Ocean Pirates Jackal-class mediums June was relaying to the platoon. “Turn southwest. Use the crater wall there as cover. Cross their field of fire at Echo-One-Four, and we’ll be there to pick them up when they attempt to close.”
“Roger that,” J
une replied. Artemis took an immediate heading southwest.
“The rest of you, fall behind me. No melee combat. We’ll have a shooting gallery once June baits them.”
“If she doesn’t get fragged this time,” Lin grumbled.
Reggie didn’t even scold her. With a flick, he cut off Lin’s comm from the rest of the platoon.
“Hey!” she protested, but it was only Reggie who could hear her.
He adjusted his settings to radio only Yulong. “I warned you. We don’t need morale problems mid-battle.”
After a second’s pause, Lin recanted. “Got it. Hook me back in. We need to communicate.”
Reggie flicked her comm settings back to normal, hoping no one else had noticed the exchange. The last thing he needed was infighting. Dark Ocean Pirates was an unknown quantity. Chase hadn’t had time to work up any intel on them. All Reggie and Ghost Platoon could gather was that they’d taken out one team already, and they’d be next if they didn’t pull their shit together.
“Hold!” Reggie ordered. Vortex raised a fist in the tactical hand signal for a halt. “Get ready…”
June was leading the Jackals on a chase. Artemis was faster, but all the Jackals knew was that the crater was a finite battlefield and she couldn’t run forever. If they could corner her or get a lucky shot into her juggernaut’s legs as she dodged in and out of their line of fire, Dark Ocean Pirates would be up one juggernaut.
Then they came out into the open.
Without a scout deployed, the Jackals poured across an entire hex of open ground, not realizing until it was too late that they were downfield on a firing range.
[Jackal - 82% To Hit]
Reggie didn’t even wait for a better targeting percentage. He fired both Plasma Launchers.
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