The five man squad of mercenaries, complemented with their commander and an operator whom stalked the streets around them like a shadow, moving
far silent than the men in the squad whom they had not met her before, moved down the
seemingly deserted city stretching before them, to make contact with their enemy.
Although what they saw
betrayed what they felt. The men of Acklay 1-1 could feel the eyes staring down upon them, yet their sensors had yielded no results of an enemy presence. They had expected to take contact upon taking a step into the city, and yet their enemy was nowhere to be seen so far.
They were waiting.
Biding their time.
They had to be. That was the only logical explanation the young lad could come up with on his own with what he knew, saw, and felt at the time.
The anxiety and the anticipation of stumbling on an ambush upon turning the next corner, slowly began to take its toll on the more inexperienced. Their comms dwindled from the occasional banter between each other, to eerie silence; the latter disturbed only by short, precise commands spoken over the comlink from Skif, the seasoned veteran leading them, and the occasional confirmation from the squad members that their sector was clear and secure.
The kid had brilliantly kept his fear and apprehension in check, keeping his mind focused on the vital task he was assigned to keep his fellow squadmates safe; clearing their path of any sort of mines or explosive devices they may stumble upon. His explosive defusal skills, coupled with the signal jamming capability of the squad’s techie and his best friend, Aiden, the young merc had already defused several remote controlled improvised explosive devices he detected on their path.
But fear and dread, albeit momentarily, came rushing back upon hearing the sound of a window shattering above their heads from the building beside them, several storeys high.
Catching the glimpse of a human silhouette falling down from right above, the kid stumbled backwards in mild panic at a natural, unintended response as a gasp escaped him. Tripping over the curb, the kid landed on his backside; although he fell on his backside, the young lad kept the barrel of the particle blaster rifle pointed at the silhouette as it slammed on the pavement just a few feet in front of him in a sickening, stomach churning, meaty thud.
Blood splattered all over him and his helmet visor as he scurried away from the body, backwards on the ground.
The squad had come to a sudden halt at the sound of the shattering glass. The men collectively muttered a series of thoroughly nefand profanities.
<”Karksuckers. Dylan, check him for any booby traps,”> he said. He couldn’t help but grimace at the fate of the dead mercenary. Having personally met the Maw before, heard and seen what they were with his own eyes, he knew just how perfidious they could get.
The young lad complied wordlessly and without hesitation; rising from the ground to a low crouch. Although he shook off the initial shock and fear of this unexpected encounter, laying eyes on the remains of a dead colleague sprawled before his eyes had him on edge, understandably so.
The mine detector in the lad’s left hand yielded no results when he turned the device on the body. He couldn’t hear that distinct, all too familiar whine of primed thermal detonators as well.
<”Clear,”> he muttered over the comlink as he set aside his detector.
<”Squad, stack up on that door for a breaching maneuver.”> Dylan timidly extended his left hand at the mercenary’s oddly bent neck reaching for his dog tags as the rest of the squad pushed up past him. The chain of the tags snapped as the young lad gently yanked it towards him.
Briskly pushing past the explosive specialist by a few yards, the squad quickly took up a breaching formation at Skif’s command on a door leading into the building, where the body of their unfortunate colleague was thrown from.
<”Dylan, in formation, now.”>
The young lad swiftly tucked the man’s dog tags into his chest rig before reaching for his explosive detecting equipment beside him.
<”Roger.”> Picking up the mine detector, the merc quickly joined his squad in his assigned formation; the Pointman.
Running up to the side of the door after joining the formation, and checked for any booby traps on the door, and checked if the door was locked. He gave a nod of his head to Skif, silently gesturing the door was unlocked and was not spiked with traps.
As the seasoned merc returned the gesture with a curt nod of his own, the lad clipped the mine detector to his belt, still turned on, and grasped the particle rifle with both hands, keeping it at a low-ready stance.
<”Breach!”>
The front door fluttered open violently as the young merc landed a hefty kick on the door. Following right behind the young lad, the mercenaries quickly moved into the entrance floor; the mercs behind him would tactically disperse in the room , with Scalpel holding the rear, securing the entrance to the building. They would ascend the floors of the structure to find and engage with their enemy, as soon as their commander and the operative joined them.
Heinrich Faust
