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OPERATION WINFALL 2

Force Your Way

PART 1

Dead warlock, dead demon. Dead Dern. We pick up the pieces. Arstad takes up his hat, Melana grabs his rifle and ammunition. I take a moment to get my head together. Can’t even close his eyes, hard to say goodbye when he hasn’t got a face.

“You alright?” the ‘borg asks me.

Get up, find my NG-R50, swap magazines. Give them a nod.

“The vault’s this way.”

Back in the room, the women are mostly clothed, starting to wander the chamber. See us, back up again. Melana approaches, speaking elf. Arstad and I move over to the open vault.

“That’s some serious scratch”, he says. Understatement.

We start sorting, quiet. Still angry, but what can you do? Time passes, I’ve felt enough gold coins to turn my fingers green and Melana enters the vault with a whistle. Says the ladies were slaves to the raiders, they came from Nob End. I don’t care, let them go back, right? She shrugs and walks over to the warlock’s body, getting out a knife.

Turns out, according to the slaves, the warlock kept the key inside himself somehow. A moment of flesh tearing, Melana comes up with her grizzly prize. Silver key covered in runes.

“This is a casting-key.”

“That’s a thing?” I’m skeptical.

“No, not really. I mean it’s like a scroll printed on an item, almost like a TW device, but all magic.”

“What’s the ju-ju on it?” Arstad asks.

“Dimensional gateway”, she says. “This vault isn’t really here.”

“Looks real to me”, the ‘borg digi-grunts.

“She’s saying the key leads to another dimension, which is where the vault is. Pay attention, bucket-head.” I look to the lady. “Can anyone with that kind of magic open this place up?”

A shrug. “It’s probably bound to the key.”

“Hold onto it.”

The look she’s giving me part dismay, part surprise. She thinks I’m stupid for trusting her, but I felt the rage in her when Dern died. The three of us are in this together. Arstad nods and the key vanishes into the mystery of women-kind.

I go back to the hoard. None of the tech weapons are anything I’m looking for. Wilk’s 327, an old Fire Breather, surplus CS pistols. Mostly throw away tech. The grenades are nice though, a whole crate of HE. Can always find a use for explosives.

Move on to the magic. Full suit of armor, old school, standing against the wall. No idea if the ju-ju is real but it’s covered in mage-scratch. Find a blade. Straight, bone handle with no hand guard in a black wood sheath. Hums a happy song of vengeance when you put your hand on it.
Sounds like my kinda guy. The sheath has a loop for belt ties, clip it to my rig and let it hang under my mesh-weave coat.

“Whacha find?” Arstad asks as he comes over, a Naruni Enterprises plasteel box in his hands.

“Kindred spirit”, I tell him. “What’s that?”

His borg eyes make a pop, his alloy jaw clicks. “Force field generator.”

“Good find. Have to hook it up to your power plant later.”

He nods and rips it open, fixing the unit to the utility slot on his waist. We rake in some money, a few 100k in loose cred cards. Melana saunters over in a new pair of boots while we check their values.

“Juicer rocket boots, huh?”

“Adjustable fit, everything else is too big. Find anything we can use to get out of here in one piece?” she asks.

We stop and look at her, then it hits me. Dern dying and the cash at my feet distracted my brain.
Clawson. Damn. He and his Mustache Boys were probably waiting outside. We moved carefully, but he has surveillance drones. High probability he knows where we are and is waiting to see who pops up so he can steal the spoils. …slags.

I shake my head. “No idea. Seen any teleport scrolls in here?”

“Nope.”

“Hey, what are you guys worried about, anyway?” Arstad chuckles. “We just ripped a demon, his mage butt-buddy and a whole gang. You think Mustache Man is going to like his chances?”

“The cost was too high. Gold’s no good unless you live to spend it”, Melana said somberly.

I light a cigarette, pondering that. They stayed quiet while I paced. By the time I was done I didn’t have anything better than my first idea.

“I’ll check it out topside, give you two the sit rep, dig? If we’re clear we bolt, if it’s hot I’ll show them the meaning of being called a devil.” Nod to Arstad. “Prep those grenades, we’re going to need a distraction if a fight starts. Melana, you’ve got the key, can you do that force field trick again if you need to?”

She nodded. “I can, but it’s stationary.”

“Be stingy with the juice, then. When I’ve got eyes on their position I’ll radio back with the plan.”


PART TWO

Snake up into the tunnel, dark and dirty, scorch marks the new décor. Have to crawl high and squeeze through a collapse in the cavern, make too much noise. Camo armor acting up, don’t like my chances ghosting through, but I make with the soft step anyway. Hear the beat of a mini-VTOL as moonlight seeps into the shaft ahead. Sneaker drone, lightly armed, not much for armor. It’s got a mutli-optic and ground sonar. Keep still, let the camo and thermal baffling work the magic.

Sneaker creeps through the air of the cave, definitely mustache-gear from the decal on the side as it passes me. Doesn’t look twice in my direction as I’m huddled up against the side of the cave. Dig it. Get up and move, door’s open still. Two crusader guards hefting Wilks 457s. Time to make a scene and disappear.

Crusader armor has a nice neck guard and overlapping plates that move with the joints. Not a lot of weak spots, just make a strong attack. Disadvantage is it’s heavy, takes technique to move quick in that suit. I used to wear it. Better, they’re inside the cramped doorway and got full sized battle rifles. Not much room to maneuver for a couple of slags.

Easy job.

Arm a smoke grenade, land it right between them and bolt to the door. Faster than the guys in their heavy armor, see them on thermal as they back away carefully. Slag One raises his weapon, not pointed at me, just in my direction. Close the distance, grab the handle of my new friend, 3ft magic razor blade, take it two handed. Torn armor, severed muscles and bone, crimson riot on the cavern wall, trooper’s an amputee.

Side step, Slag Two sending his rifle butt in my direction, then step through him as sparks, blood and vitals shower the cavern floor. Stab through the helmets of each, give it a twist. No more twitching.

Used to think magic swords were for chumps. Turns out I was just jealous.

Bolt from the smoke, bank right and look for cover, comm the others.

“Party started, drawing fire.”

“Got it, kid.”

Leap over rocks, reset camouflage as the earth starts to melt from pulse laser fire. Pop up a split second, get a look at the shooting gallery.

Twenty guys, APC, two SAMAS and a Sampson, three drones converging on my position. Yay lasing the target. Time to flip on the force field and go.

Bust out a full run over rocks and dips in the canyon, stray pulses ripple the field, see a rocket launcher. Always with the heavy weapons. Show’m your stuff, Alrik. Roll under a rock, sight the rocket operator, grip underslung trigger on the R-50 and let her rip.

28mm plasma grenade, get some.

White hot fire flash, rocket launcher melts and troopers break ranks for cover behind the APC. Whirling of turbines, SAMAS airborne, drones closing in, APC aiming its 55mm in my direction.

“Surrender, Devil!” I hear Clawson’s voice on the PA. Too bad. Was hoping he was outside.

Just as the attention of the camp turned to me entirely, a dark shape emerges from the cavern and a belt of telekinetically accelerated grenades, no pins, flies at the enemy from their flank.

I duck back down.

Ground shakes, shrapnel shreds the rock and makes my force field a psychedelic show of Technicolor. Through the explosion, the racket of Arstad’s NG-202 cuts the night. Melana comes in from up high, riding rocket boots and pitches two more grenades into the troops before leaping back out.

Anti-personnel lasers on the APC angle to take her down but I drill them full of tungsten slugs from the R-50 and Arstad cuts loose with his mini-missiles, turns a SAMAS into a falling slag-brick.

Sampson PA runs to engage the ‘borg as the second SAM wheels around toward me. No time for him. I run for the APC, laying down fire on any troopers still standing. The SAM’s CR-40 rips the last of my shield but I tumble to the Mark V’s side hatch, draw my sword again, cut through the door and kick in the loose pieces like it was particle board.

Inside the pilot and crew are up, pulse pistols drawn. Instead of backing out I charge headlong, cut a pistol gripping hand off, armor manages to hold against a point blank pulse and the shooter loses his head. The next slag takes it to the hilt through his breast plate as he tries to get a clear shot. Fourth crewman is backing out and I shear through the 55’s gunner chair to split his back open.

Before I can turn or react, I take a hit and stagger forward helmet first into the hull, armor breach warning sounds and I go to the ground from a plasma cartridge to the back.

Roll over and see a figure wearing my same camouflage creep out from the rear hold of the APC. He maneuvers for a clear shot, wants to finish the job this time.

“Something wrong? Can’t deal with your own tricks?” Clawson snarls.

Lost the R-50 on the way in to fight melee, can’t get up to stab him quick enough and he’s too far away to trip. Armor’s melting…think of something, damn it.

Clawson flinches, something catches his eye from the side and I sit up to shank him, but I’m not fast enough. Melana comes rocket booting through the door, flaming sword burning from her TW arm and turns Clawson’s helmet into an open barbeque.

The body slumps to the deck and she helps me up.

“What took you so long?”

The ground shudders again before she can answer and I catch her from falling down. Go to the opening in the APC and look outside. See a Sampson power armor on the ground, more holes than whole. A hundred feet away, Arstad drops the empty 202 and pumps borg legs as CR-40 ring slugs spark off his armor. He breaks fast, just avoiding the AP mini missiles from the SAM as it strafes the area.

Go back inside, kick the destroyed gunner chair aside and man the 55mm auto cannon. Standard on the Mark V is a pair of high powered lasers, but a gun like this puts down hurt in a more violent way. Sight the SAM as it turns for another pass and squeeze some ear-splitting hell at him. Slugs the size of candlepins rip through the armor, break a wing and penetrate through to the PA’s power cell, turns it into a smoking comet.

Arstad charges toward the wreck cracking his knuckles.


PART THREE

Little under an hour later we’re done picking through the mess. I’m wearing Clawson’s breast plate to replace the damage to mine, got his NE-4 too. Melana’s got some boots that won’t sprain her ankles and Arstad’s hefting a SAM’s CR-40.

Not bad.

The women from Nob End crawl out of the cave eventually, Melana lets them. Not much radiation up here, surprising considering the battle. She points them toward town and the elf girl seems pensive. Wants to ask us about the key, the loot, but we’re the guys with the guns so she keeps her trap shut and leads the other women away.

Speaking of keys.

“Let’s go back down”, I tell them. “We gotta split this loot up.”

The others agree and fall in, but before we make it to the entrance, the weird crap starts.

“Excuse me”, a smooth voice calls from behind.

R-50, CR-40 and a Dual Threat come up as we spin around. Death is trained on a guy about man sized, wearing blue and grey robes and a particular helmet. Bug-eyed and otherwise featureless.

Great. The Feds are here.

“What do you want, finger-wiggler?” Arstad barked. Guess he recognized the helmet too.

“You have a key that belongs to me.”

Arstad made to have a meaningful discussion, but I beat him to the punch. “Not interested. Go back and tell your bat-s*** crazy boss you didn’t find anything, dig?”

Some wizard shifting happened, things moving under his robe. “I said it belonged to me, not that I was here to recover it for anyone else. You can produce it and deliver, or you can perish. It’s all the same to me, have a care I’m giving you a choice.”

“Well, when you put it that way”, NE-4 clears the holster and discharges a round that screams across the distance all inside of half a second.

But the white-hot plasma round hits a shimmer barrier, yadda yadda. I hate wizards. At least with my force field you can fricken see it.

“Very well”, the magus raises an arm, producing a rod shaped like a dragon head, complete with gaping maw of teeth and fiery pilot light deep in the throat. We should probably move.

“Fall back”, Melana shouts and tosses her alchemy bag between us and the caster. We book it.
Running back into the cave the flames lick our boots and then we go for a ride, tumbling down the tunnel as the earth shakes and various alchemical agents foul the air with poisonous fumes. I manage to grab a rock and stop, snatching Melana’s hand. Arstad stops just after us, digging borg fingers into the stone.

“What the hell was that?” I shout.

“Hopefully a dead mage”, she says as she grabs a rock and starts climbing back up.

I grab her leg, “Wait.” A beat passes and I hear chanting up top, punctuated by the occasional cough. Then the air rushes past us, clearing the poison cloud. Crap.

“Hiding will do no good”, the mages voice echoes through the cave. A flash follows and bolts of sorcerer fury carve the cave’s insides, widening the area and he comes floating through the rock dust, wreathed in blinding power.

“Okay, he’s got a force field. I’ll do it in with plasma. Arstad, when he’s open, light him up. If he’s still twitching, Melana, you finish him off.”

They nod and I race up the cave. He spots me through the chaos of the cave and his magic, but he doesn’t act until I unload the NE-4, on round seven his field blacks out. The last shot doesn’t even make him twitch. Energy immune, no surprise there.

Magus turns his fury on me, but just before he can bring the bolts of death he catches a burst of ring slugs and hits the ground like a sack of hammers. Get some, Arstad.

The borg pours on the ferrous and we see all kinds of weird crap happen. As the mage’s robes shred, tentacles lick the walls, green blood covers the cavern floor and we hear the screams of something inhuman squealing in pain as unnatural shadows dance on the bleeding walls. The CR-40 clicks empty and Mr. Magus sits up with his flamer. In a confined space, we’re pretty hosed.

Melana charges in front of me just as he squeezes the dragon head and a light flashes around us both, the flames hit a telekinetic barrier and the kanji on the monster hunter’s arms flare gold, then burn out as the barrier buckles and gives. We get a little bit of the heat, but my armor holds and I come up past Melana, drawing my sword.

Mage man sweeps his hand between us, bringing up another barrier but the sword’s edge doesn’t give a flying crap what’s in the way, it’s hungry for blood. The barrier comes to shimmering life, but immediately flashes into nothing as rune decorated steel bites deep into the magus’ torso, splitting ribs and shredding innards. He falls back, but it isn’t fast enough for me, I give him a kick and he skids across the cavern floor.

“Gave you a chance, feddie”, I snarl as I bring the blade up over his head.

Real, red blood pours out of him now, it spurts out from beneath his helmet as he coughs out nonsense. Not even casting, just gurgling hysteria, fear. His hand comes up, reflexively defending his face, weak move. Thought he was better than that.

Then he shows me he is, the hand makes a gesture and a scroll slides out from his robe into his hand. I bring the blade down to finish him but I’m too slow, he breaks the scroll’s seal and in a puff and pop he vanishes. Doesn’t even leave any of his blood behind.

“Well crap.”

Nothing worse than a wizard out for revenge.


PART FOUR

An hour later we were done pocketing whatever we were going to take from the place. Arstad had a few sacks over his shoulder, Melana and I were loaded up similarly. The question was, what were we going to do about this place? We had our windfall, we were richer than most could dream, but there was even more here still.

“What do we do about the key?” Melana asks.

“I was just thinkin’ about that…”, I lit a cig. “Hell, I want everything here. Painful to say, but we’re gonna have to leave it behind.”

“Whacha mean, kid?” Arstad’s head roosters curiously.

“He means that magus will keep searching for us if we keep it”, Melana says.

“That right?”

She nods. “It’s likely he can use a spell to detect where the key is. He’ll home in on it and find us every time.”

“Which means”, long drag of the smoke. “We destroy the key. I don’t want to let that slag have it, can’t beat us, he didn’t earn it back. Hell with the guy.”

“Probably best”, Melana puts the key with all of its decorative scribbles on a pedestal, then steps back from it.

“You sure? We can kill that guy next time, Alrik.”

“You know I want to, rust bucket, but spending a little money is better than dying with a fortune. No telling what kind of crap that slag can summon up.”

Cyborg-sighs sound funny. More like a bass feedback. “Fine.”

“Let’s go then.”

I take the key and we walk out. As soon as we’re outside the treasure chamber, I throw the key up into the air, train my eyes on it and draw my new sword, cutting it in two. The halves fall the ground and the earthen door closes, sealing off the dimensional gateway between us and more money than Prosek has.

Just to make certain of his commitment, I make Arstad step on the pieces until they’re dust, then we use some fusion blocks in Clawson’s APC to collapse the entire cavern. There’s no such thing as overkill.