Hell from the Sky

The twelfth sortie. Noah and the Carpe Noctem members were far from base, ready to embark on an attack in Legion territory. This mission required the Eighty-Six to locate a Legion outpost in the Western Front and destroy it. Their goal was to prevent the opposition from gaining a foothold to spearhead any assaults.

Within his Feldreß, Noah rested his head against the cold confines of his coffin. Through the artificial vision of his cameras, he saw a crescent moon traversing the sky with an entourage of stars. Tufts of white clouds added to this visage.

Moments like these made Carpe Noctem feel alive. Battle after battle, comrade after comrade, after losing so much, you feel hollow. From all the pain, fear, and trauma, it feels as though your mind goes numb. It's protecting itself like a computer, wiping itself clean until it's empty.

Humans are not made for that. They're supposed to feel things. It is a God-given gift, some may say. Noah didn't give a damn about God.

(If God was real, then why am I here?)

Why would Legion exist? Why would the Republic of San Magnolia have the power to wrongly persecute? Why were Colorata born, just to die? Why was Noah and his friends deprived of peace?

(Maybe that's what God wanted.)

Maybe the man upstairs wanted the Legion to rule the world and purge the icky humans. Maybe Legion was a test, to see the devil in each individual. Maybe Colorata would die and go to heaven for their sacrifice. In return, the Alba would go to hell.

(I'd believe that if I was eight-fucking-years-old.)

Noah knew the world wasn't black and white; it was a variable shade of grey that continuously changed color. Not every Handler was evil, and not every Eighty-Six was righteous. There were times when Noah felt like doing the Legion's dirty work, and sending some 86 to the grave.

He kept looking at the night sky. He wanted to lose these troubled thoughts and find comfort in the unchanging aspects of this world. In his attempt to seek solace, Noah realized he could change drastically, but the world would remain the same and carry on. This realization haunted others, but gave him comfort. It was solid ground to stand on, a rug that couldn't be torn from his feet.

-!Ding!-

[Handler One to Black Locust, copy.]

The chime of Resonance ringed in Noah's ears. He furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance, and answered begrudgingly.

"Black Locust, copy."

[Status Report.]

"As of right now, we are conserving our batteries. We've stopped 40 klicks from Legion territory. Once the sun rises, we'll resume our advance."

[Alright. I've contacted you to update the information. The warzone you're entering is an urban area, which means you'll fight in a city. We've confirmed the presence of thirty Legion awaiting your arrival.]

"I understand."

[You are to swiftly deal with the threat and return to base.]

The conversation continued further, and after it concluded, Handler One's voice cut out.

***

[1st Ward, 14th Combat Zone.]

"We're leaving the suburbs," Black Locust confirmed.

The small roads and neat houses were gradually replaced with desolate, cracked office buildings, and decimated skyscrapers.

As they ventured into the city, Noah noticed the luscious vines cascading from the cement facades, the vibrant vegetation growing from cracked seams, and the flocks of birds flying between hollow buildings. Such a simple view, but it felt breathtaking. It was so beautifully haunting to Noah; a world once inhabited was abandoned and transformed into a drastically different landscape.

If Noah suspended enough disbelief, he could imagine himself in another world. Sadly, no matter where you go, there'd always be monsters.

"Gamma and Delta squads, establish the defensive position I've assigned. Alpha squad and I will form the frontal assault and push forward. If necessary, we'll feign retreat and lead the Legion into a pincer attack."

Black Locust proceeded accordingly and created the base of fire. As he did, he located the boogies on the radar.

"We have six Legion locations; they're hiding in offices and parking lots, hoping to launch an ambush. Prepare to commence an artillery strike with our Long-Range Gunner types."

Black Locust inputted the grid point coordinates and ordered ten gunners to bombard the buildings. After giving the order, Black Locust calmly listened to the shrieking artillery fire - the ground trembled from the falling construction after the explosive impacts.

"Five out of six enemies were eliminated, deaths confirmed. Six more units are pushing forward to establish a defensive position. Delta squad, suppress them."

The Legion crept through strategically placed defenses: massive concrete chunks, sandbags, or the carcasses of their dead comrades. Sporadically, they would peak to return fire, but the onslaught was too overbearing; emerging was equivalent to suicide.

Black Locust and Alpha squad weaved through the alleyways, had snipers guarding their advance, and while monitoring the battlefield, saw the Legion gradually retreating.

"Push forward!"

Alpha squad advanced in an inverted, fracture wedge formation, seeking to encircle the Legion via precise bombardments and suppressive fire. Black Locust feared a feigned retreat, since it was the tactic he planned to use, but his worry was replaced with another.

"Damnit, they're actually retreating! Eight boogies are fleeing, three others are covering them!"

(We can't stray farther, we need to remain near the snipers.)

"Halt! Fire!"

Juggernauts unloaded magazine after magazine of 7.26mm anti-personnel ammo, but it simply scratched the thin armor of the fleeing Legion.

"Damnit!"

Alas, it wasn't their only weapon, smoothbore cannons began firing, and Legion casualties started to rise. Black Locust used his armament and quickly obliterated the three Legion returning fire.

"Alpha squad, reform into a defensive position. Delta squad, remain as you are; Gamma squad, proceed and reinforce our weak points."

"Black Locust to Handler One, copy."

[Handler One to Black Locust, copy.]

"We've taken Legion's defensive point and are establishing it as our own. May I input a request for reinforcements?"

[Yes, permission granted.]

Through their network, Black Locust requested the aid of four Juggernaut platoons of varying specialties. They would arrive in several hours, take over the area, and this'll allow Black Locust and his original team to proceed with the operation.

[Black Locust, you are to remain in your current warzone and send the necessary taskforce to confront the Legion.]

"But what of my men? Shouldn't I be there?"

[Prioritize your safety as commander. You have the ability to monitor battlefields from afar.]

(Why does Handler One keep on insisting for me to remain in place and direct the battles myself?)

It felt like Noah's Handler had changed. They were using a hands-off approach, and letting Black Locust dictate the battles. Noah appreciated the freedom, but he noticed Handler One's contrasting behavior.

(Why do I care? Handlers don't help much in the first place. Holding them by a standard does nothing.)

Handlers of the San Magnolia Republic served as spectators more than commanding officers. In most cases, their presence was actually worthless, if not a downright hindrance.

(That's why...)

That's why Noah didn't want to be like them. He wanted to keep on fighting for the sake of his comrades. Now that he noticed, he realized that his Handler was simply fostering the responsibility onto him.

"Handler One, that order is unacceptable. My presence on the battlefield is imperative to our success. I must inform you that I will disobey this order for the survival rate of my platoon."

[Black Locust, you are to hold a defensive position from the rear and monitor the assault force.]

"But-"

Something suddenly flashed across the computer screens of Black Locust's cockpit. He instantly calmed down and said, "Roger."

***

[1st Ward, 13th Combat Zone.]

Black Locust's assault force approached en masse. From Noah's point of view, he wasn't there to personally help them. Like his Handler ordered, he only watched from afar. Thanks to the Juggernauts acting as observation units, he gained a read on the enemy, and projected their current positions onto the radar. It was sparse, and he had to come to terms he wasn't seeing the full picture. In war, it is safe to assume the worse.

His radar flickered with information, and he saw a defensive line composed of 28 of those special Legion.

(I need to come up with a new name for them.)

High maneuverability, but not as competent as Black Locust and Carpe Noctem. These new Legion were small units compared to the Löwe, even the Grauwolf. Their main armament was measly, and nowhere near as powerful enough to deal damage like a single-acting unit. It seems these Legion were overtly reliant upon one another to survive skirmishes. They were resorting to unorthodox military methodologies, never before seen in Legion behavior. These type of strategies went beyond text-book, and possessed a human element to them.

(So, it's safe to assume they've adapted a fighting style similar to ours?)

Noah dreaded the thought. For years upon years, blood and flesh was forged into a mountain in which the Colorata descendants stood upon. Since the beginning of the war, their elder 86 have died for testing ideas, strategies, and tactics to ensure maximum efficiency, and to ensure the survival of the younger generations, albeit shrinking.

In the end, their best plans were an ensemble of guerilla tactics, and strategic ambushes, paired with an innate familiarity of their surroundings. Essentially, a home turf advantage in which to defend.

For some reason, the new Legion units were mimicking the 86 in this regard. It left Noah sickened and enraged, with a coppery taste dyeing his mouth.

(As if our lives couldn't become hard enough!)

Noah wanted to shout in his personal combat unit, but it'd serve as nothing but wasted rage aimed nowhere. He'd keep it inside and temper it for now.

(Well, I finally have a name for the new enemy we've encountered.)

Black Locust decided to dub these specialized units as the Guerrilla-type Ambushers.

(I have to think like them now.)

Where would these Guerrilla-type Ambushers hide their forces? What tactics would they employ? How would they move in battle, and back each other up?

(They'd hide in old, sturdy structures; parking lots, brick buildings, abandoned skyscrapers. They'd try to gain mobility advantages by controlling bridges and highway overpasses, using them as launch bases for artillery and suppression fire.)

Noah tried to think harder, and more ideas popped into his head.

(They'll probably try to lure my troops into kill zones, highway underpasses, and alleyways or narrow streets.)

As Captain of this platoon and any subsequent forces Handler One sent his way, Noah had to devise of everything to reverse engineer the Legion's plans and use it against them.

(I've hashed out the obvious. What else will they use?)

Noah mindlessly watched the traversing advance force, trying to concoct strategies that might be used against him and his fellow fighters.

With careless eyes, Noah saw a Juggernaut almost slip into a ditch. That's when it hit Noah, a tidal wave of philosophical terms. He grinned.

(I have you now.)

***

The guerilla-type Ambushers lied in wait, slightly rumbling in their static positions. Their engines sent slight vibrations through their frames, causing them to rock back and forth. These metal behemoths weren't alive, but their trembling conveyed a sense of fear. Perhaps there was something more underneath those metal hoods.

As if to mock this apparent show of emotions, the world screamed around them. They suddenly turned up to-

-!Krakaboom!-

-!Krakaboom!-

-!Krakaboom!-

-be hit by an artillery strike.

(How do you enjoy that, you damn heaps of abandoned metal?!)

Black Locust ordered an airstrike before the battle, and the rounds from their batteries promptly met their targets. It sent a sense of satisfaction roiling into his soul, and now he would add the cherry on top.

[All platoons, advance into the city. Enemy contact in 40 seconds.]

Meanwhile, a second airstrike rained down, but instead of hitting buildings, it impacted the empty streets.

[All units, I've provided trenches via the roads. Seek cover from there; stay low.]

Noah remembered reading old military books about modern conflict. Well, he remembered himself trying to read. Anyways, it was a textbook about the evolution of war, and how it changed overtime from simple melee, to coordinated charges, to trench warfare, and to their modern style of conflict with the Feldreß. Over the centuries and decades, battle has evolved to suit the needs of the current conflict, and the countries waging them.

Although, it didn't mean those old styles of fighting were obsolete. It only meant they were unorthodox, and less effective compared to modern tactics. Still, what if someone were to perfect and utilize them? It'd mean they'd be unique, a different breed of warmonger than the rest. It'd serve as an advantage on the battlefield.

(I remember one such person. Better than Renata in close combat.)

A Reaper with an appropriate sigil on their Juggernaut, a headless knight wielding a shovel. A masterclass of survival in their battle against the Legion.

(I wish I could see you again.)

They'd be an inspiration to Noah's troops. That Reaper would've been a symbol of hope, and that is why Noah gritted his teeth in rage.

(He would've been. If only...)

If only those white pigs of the Republic didn't send him on a suicide mission, their Reaper would've still been here to fight alongside them. For the fallen, he would've been their Undertaker. Now he was dead.

(Those white pigs...)

Noah harnessed his rage, and sent subsequent orders to his platoon. He would channel it into the battle.

Through an observation unit, Black Locust saw his fellow pilots hiding in the concrete divots he made for them. He was inspired by trench warfare, and it led to his tactic of using the road to provide shelter.

The Juggernauts would duck into them, peaking out to return the onslaught on their enemy. He divided his forces into small squads, units of four, and sent them out into the city to act as scout and suppression forces. He was receiving no casualties on his radar.

(It's flawless.)

So why? Why did this situation send a nervous chill down his spine? These guerrilla-type Ambushers weren't retreating, just like last time. It was so unlike them. What was wrong with the Legion's AI? Why didn't they calculate the risk and fall back, especially now?

(Just piss off and get out of our faces!!)

Noah's rage erupted ten-fold. It was so unlike him. He wanted these Legion to die.

(Heh, that's what I am. An Eighty-Six, and that's my job. Killing you.)

To Noah and many others, that is what it meant to be an Eighty-Six. To fight, and to keep on fighting. Although, the anger and hatred, the compulsion to do so... it was blossoming too strongly in his heart.

(If only I was there with them,) he lamented.

He watched the battle proceed and his advance force gaining purchase in the city, but as he did... he saw something.

(What the hell is that!?!)

It was a dark blur coming from the dim sky, which eventually impacted the ground and erupted into a swath of flames. To mirror it, the sky's dark grey storm clouds were parted by incendiary rounds, causing sheets of fire to roil and fall to the earth. Whoever or whatever was firing, they were trying to part the heavens to aim their sights.

(No...)

Afterwards, further mortars began raining down; they were cluster bombs, unleashing a massive payloads and peppering the landscape with shells and fragments. Each and every single one was aimed at his troops.

(Nooo!!!)

The casualties began to rise. His fellow soldiers were falling, and their disappearance was noted by Black Locust.

(So this is what you were after!!)

The platoons were down to less than a fraction of what he had.

"You bastards...!"

The guerilla-type Ambushers. They were still alive. The places they defended were left unharmed. Everything was a trap to begin with, and Black Locust fell for it. He thought he could protect his troops while simultaneously pushing and baiting the enemy, but he couldn't. They were one step ahead.

Suddenly, the dark clouds overhanging Black Locust and Carpe Noctem parted too.

(Of course.)

The opposition was not one step ahead. They had the entire sky at their disposable, and they were willing to use it and turn everything into a living hell. They had the heavens as their doorstep, and it was the gateway to all they desired.

Black Locust felt impacts all around him, transmitting into the earth and through the legs of his Juggernaut. It matched the pressure he felt from a direct hit.