<Transmission sent // priority magenta -- // Receiver designated: Triumphant Legacy>

<origin source Osiris>

<01:01 cc 21 orbital time stamp>

(<Last Shield Protocol in effect>

<Primary system defenses have fallen>

<Secondary system defenses non responsive>

<tertiary defenses compromised>

<Naval forces suffered estimated 85% casualties>

<Hostile threat unknown / Hostile numbers unknown -- assume overwhelming force>

<Unable to secure Holliday Orbit, planetfall inevitable>

<Requesting immediate reinforcement>)

<Transmission terminated>

<Transmission sent // priority magenta -- // Receiver designated: Osiris>

<origin source: Iron Shield>

("Shields are offline, main thrust is disabled, and our armor integrity is rapidly depleting! <static> Were breaking through the atmo<static>")

<Transmission Terminated>

The first wave was the loudest, for it had the greatest potency. Esta Stonewall watched in horror as hundreds of drug fueled fanatics of the carnager creed swamped the main alley below. Their cries were disorienting as their bare feet scrapped against the broken pavement. She called everyone to arms and Ceaser was lucky enough to rally enough to to the doors before the wave of derenged muscle slammed against them.

"Just another day at the office eh!" His Jibe met deaf ears. Esta had heard of the carnager creed cults, mind washed rabble for hire for the highest bidder. She had never seen so many. Only one group or organization in the nook could hire so many so soon. She bit her lip and froze as a pair of blood stained eyes glared directly at her from the other side of the glass.

"Really your going to joke right now!" She found her words thick and struggled to keep her voice from breaking. She had never seen anything like this.

"It's a coping mechanism!" He yelled back as he struggled to force the doors shut.

"Your a coping mechanism!"

"What does that mean?" The slamming of wet fists kept pummeling the windows. A sea of narcotic frenzy just inches from ripping them apart.

"Shut up and keep them outside!" Esta made a silent prayer as she gritted her teeth. The bolt locks were sealed and Ceaser motioned for other to barricade the windows.

"We need to cover them from above. Commander take everyone else upstairs we'll create a barricade down here."

"You can't hold them on your own!" A hand broke through the glass, flesh peeled back from the bone. The lunatic was frantically screaming something incoherent.

Esta unholstered her forearm, a six cylinder Liberator with the old Tyrian stamp still in the fore grip. It was an old gun with satin stained wood which always felt warm in her hand, and an obsidian barrel. The hammer was pearl white, as were most other liberators. Despite its age it had yet to ever misfire or jam for her. It's .40 caliber chamber was also forged with a special steel capable of handling excessive heat, especially incinerator rounds. She fired one at the interloper who was somehow chewing his way through the glass. The discharges sound wave echoed as the incendiary burst into flames upon impact.

The single fanatic was pushed back, not by pain but by the force of the projectile. His skin catching fire as he disappeared amid the sea of other fanatics.

"Get the saws!" She tried to take command and sound like it. But this would be the first time she actually fought in a battle. She had seen the common skirmish in the nook, and she had her fair share of brawls since living here. But a full frontal assault on her gangs headquarters was something she thought she'd be more prepared for. "Get the saws, bring them to the balconies"

Saw was slang for a makeshift heavy machine gun. They had three, but each weighed 150 pounds. Esta gave one last glimpse at her luitenant as he helped plant an old steel slap against the window. Sweat was pouring through his clothes. As she ran up the stairs she met up with a pair of crewman trying to drag one of the large guns. A crew of three should have been able to mount it into place. She used her cybernetic arm to help the pair carry it to one of the closest balconies overlooking the street. 

"Come on boys! Let em have it!" Ceaser declared below and a halo of gunfire boomed from downstairs. The sounds from the deranged cultists were drowned out and the smell of gunpowder stung her nostrils.

"Get Erik, we need to let the others know what's happening!" She helped drag the saw to the balcony and studied the view from below. Thick clouds of smoke did a good job to hide the other habitation blocks. One of the other carriers suddenly was hit by a sniper, his lower left abdomen exploded outward to expose part of his spine. His body caved in on itself.

"By the stars," she and the rest ducked as another round burst through another comrade. The saw was her only cover.

What could I do? She wondered. The sound of a .50 caliber machine gun lit up from another saw nearby. Hundreds of rounds of lead came streaming down in a flood. The mad crowed was quickly chewed up. Sinew and body parts were ripped asunder as the first few lunatics nearly caved in. The sound of their bodies being mutilated made her feel sick. She knew she could never forget that sound.

For seventy bloody seconds the adjacent saw kept firing, bodies kept chewing, and rogue snipers kept picking off her own people. When the saw finally went silent she heard a woman scream. She didn't know it then, but it was her screams. Silence finally came down over the alley below. Three flares lit up the skies, fired by overwatch teams on a higher floor. The light should be more than enough to shield them from the snipers across the street. Esta scooted from behind the oversized weapon and rushed to the other pair of crewman who had been firing the other saw. Their position had a narrow view of the road below which had protected them from the reach of the snipers beyond.

War wasn't alien to the streets of the nook, in many avenues it was another form of justice. Rival gangs fought each other for territory all the time, and often in broad daylight. Simple skirmishes lasted minutes or even seconds; only when entire gangs mobilized did full scale warfare erupt. In recent years, since the new occupation of the city, these types of battles were often waged underground or in the deepest reaches of the nook in the cover of night.

This was different.

This wasn't a normal routine street fight. Even her lack of experience told her that was obvious. She had heard the term "blood brawl" before, which was one way to describe such engagements. Here and now as a pile of bodies laid at their doorstep, the meaning seemed to stick.

There was only one organization with the funds to hire so many acolytes from the narco king of the carnager cult. Darjearics organization had reach to a dozen gangs and vagabond groups, but was made up mostly of the chisms. It was a foreign word from the freehold that meant silent cut. The snipers were his personal troops, the others his chaff.

They were revolutionaries trying to unite the other smaller gangs under a banner to rise up against the Kai and his Reachen mercenaries. Esta never understood just how many resources they had to call upon, and still had a hard time believing it.

It was only a few days following Darjearics assassination. There wasn't even enough time to evacuate their home base. And now they were under siege.

Time slowed and the acidic taste of metal coated her throat. "Is that all of them?" As if to answer her a thousand throats cried out a new war chant. Heavy boot steps made the hair on the back of her neck stand straight up. She tried to peer through the haze, risking a snipers bullet to see what was now coming toward them.

"What's going on? What do you see up there?" Ceasers voice was growing hoarse.

"Whatever it is it can't be good." Esta pulled back to the safety of a pillar. The cold metal had a thick layer of cold condensation.

"We should get out of here," the crewman looked to her concerned. He was a scrawny young man with pale skin and sunken eyes. Malnutrition had eaten away at him, he must have been born and raised in the nook.

Esta couldn't blame him for being afraid, "I need to find Erik, if the under passes were clear we can get out." She was reluctant to trust her distant cousin for his love of the sewer and underground passageways was not something she shared. It was a last resort, and she was less afraid of fighting an army then venturing in the dark.

The footsteps grew louder followed by the sound of tank treads and heavy engine's. Vehicles pierced through the smog like a wall of iron. These were older pattern Freeborn chassis battle tanks that used to belong to the old militia before the Great War and subsequent occupation. They were oversized, thick skinned monsters that carried the infamous god killer cannon along with four heavy machine guns. Smoke bellowed from the rear as it's engines powered the beasts forward. Alongside them in the gaps a wall of thick armored soldiers marched. They looked just as worn and battered as their tank counterparts. Chainmail and oily armor pieces were patched together bearing the dents and scars of close hand fighting. She had seen their outfit only once. They were commonly known as the 'sculptures' for the grotesque way they treated their victims upon victory. They carried a shotgun in hand and their trademark hammers over their back.

Ceaser swore and the dozen other alongside him were arguing amongst themselves. Only one of the three saws was in position, and it wouldn't be enough. The sculptures were singing in loud verse, it seemed alien that they could be heard through the noise of the engines.

Esta stonewalls throat was suddenly very dry, and static electricity prickled against her skin. A red ball of light erupted above them, followed by the sounds of an atmosphere on fire.