SNAFU: Hunters

Tango yanked the knife from the wound, twisting it on the way out for good measure, and struck again but the rogue caught her wrist on the second swing. He reeled her in and punched her in the face over and over again with his free hand, breaking her nose and flattening it across her face as the cartilage compacted.

Sierra drew her pistol and squeezed the trigger, hitting the rogue in the side of the head. There was a metallic clang and Sierra followed her shot with another, catching him high in the cheek. The rogue huffed and whipped Tango around by the wrist, flinging her into Sierra and fouling her next shot. In the second it took the Staff Sergeant to adjust her aim their attacker had fled.

“Horus, pick him up,” Sierra groaned. She heard the whisper of the quadrotor complying somewhere above her.

Tango scrambled to her feet, oblivious to her busted nose, and offered a hand to Sierra. Once she was steady, the Staff Sergeant looked to her carbine only to find the barrel bent and stock shattered.

“Here.” Tango unslung her own gun and handed it over. “I’d much rather cut this bastard anyway. Seems to work better.”

“Vicky?” Sierra asked, though she knew she’d regret it.

“Dead.”

Sierra nodded, having presumed as much. She accessed the comms and opened a private channel to Charlie and Juliet, avoiding the frequency the rogue mod was tuned in on.

“Sergeant? Specialist? Do you read me? Charlie? Juliet?”

No reply came. She waited a few seconds and tried again. The result was the same: a chilling nothingness. The explosion she felt must have been a bomb the rogue left behind with Foxy’s body. The world dropped out from beneath Sierra. The loss was too great for her to contemplate. Never before had the pride suffered such casualties. They might well be nothing more than assets to the higher ups, evidenced by the names foisted upon the women, but to Sierra they were much more than that. They were her family. And now they were gone.

“It’s just us,” she managed to spit out, the words bitter on her tongue.

“Then we make sure he pays.” Tango held her blade out, her fury evident.

“She Who Mauls will not be left wanting.” Tears stung Sierra’s eyes but she denied them. There would be time for sorrow but first came revenge.

‘Subject has entered mines, line-of-sight lost’, Horus broadcast.

The two surviving members of the pride raced toward the mine. Away from the miasma of the warzone the rogue’s spoor was so distinct Sierra could almost see it piercing deep into the mountain. The two shed any extraneous gear at the entrance, preferring to travel light – only guns and ammo and blades. If they failed to bring the rogue down now there would be no need for any of the rest.

Before they slipped into the mine, Sierra armed the self-destruct mechanism built into Horus. If they failed to return before its battery ran critical the quadrotor would detonate, erasing any evidence of their presence in the area. Likewise Charlie, Foxy, Juliet, and Vicky would decay at a hyper-accelerated rate as their cores melted down to prevent any of the Apex Program breakthroughs from falling into enemy hands. It would be a sad end to the pride’s existence, but a necessary one.

“Let’s finish this,” Sierra told her one remaining sister.

The pair forged ahead into the darkness, Sierra trusting her nose and ears to guide them to their target. The narrowness of the tunnel was suffocating, pressing in from all sides to envelope the commandos. Even the sounds were smothered by the close confines. Wooden beams set in the walls at regular intervals kept the ceiling from caving in. Glass from busted fixtures crunched underfoot. Intact lights were few and far between, bare bulbs dangling from the rafters. They moved deeper and deeper, expecting an ambush at every turn but the rogue surprised them by making no attempt at hiding.

He stood partially illuminated under a flickering light fixture. Long gray hair tinged yellow by the poor illumination draped over a face more canid than hominid. Thick blood bubbled from the gash in his neck and oozed down his bare chest. He was a monstrosity in form and spirit. Lips split in a feral grin at seeing them and Sierra unloaded without hesitation. Every bullet found its mark but he shrugged it off with nothing more than the barest of backward stumbles, regaining his footing without issue. He held a hand up, waving the sisters on.

“Let’s finish this,” the rogue told them, his sneer coated in blood and arrogance.