Author Notes:
I am still sick to be sure, but hey, I am back nonetheless with a slightly longer GSS chapter (at least the one on Patreon is). So enjoy?
That said, I must salute Corporal Kasey Sordy and Private RDCJ as they're retiring. Be seeing you chaps around, eh?
As for our current status...
Monthly Recruitment Drive is up! Hop in now and get your first tithe at 15% discount! The Drive runs from now to the 31st of May!
There are advanced chapters on Pa-treon for both of my fics, with a couple of special bonuses if you read the fine print :D
https://www.patreo-n.com/Heartbreak117
https://ko-fi.com/heartbreak117/goal?g=0
Income goal 729/800 USD (The increase to 800 is for me to procure medicine for allergy and to replace my broken down PC equipment)
For my fics:
https://www.scribblehub.com/series/55793/reich-marshal-of-the-belkan-reich/
https://www.webnovel.com/book/reich-marshal-of-the-belkan-reich_23809095505377305
https://photos.app.goo.gl/waZgkRa3UQhqKQBi9
https://www.scribblehub.com/series/1375924/in-the-grimdark-sector-with-a-system/
---------------------------------------------------------------------
"Guys, did I catch you at a bad time?" I vox what remains of my Platoon, though my attempt at a casual tone doesn't change the fact that we're about to be bulldozed.
"We were a little bit shot, thank you very much!" Comes the sarcasm from Johnson. "What do you need, Ein?"
I reply concisely as I watch the last two Salamanders sprinting at us in a full-armor getup. "Front door. Distract them."
"Oh, I already hate the sound of that." Johnson sighs, but I still feel their presences running back to the window area.
Due to the express nature of my request, Johnson's unit doesn't have the time to play subterfuge. So, they risk themselves by going all in on being a distraction, which means popping multiple high-powered red lasers, letting them rain on the Astartes' makeshift shields. Rather than aiming at anywhere in particular, the onslaught of red beams splatters against the shields inaccurately, leaving numerous scorched marks but not much else. However, their attacks do keep the Salamanders occupied, and having learned that I can quite swiftly target their bolters, the Salamanders opt to not retaliate and are quite content with being a pair of running green turtles. With their weapons safely hidden away, I can't exactly hit them, but I can do something else and that is to play the guessing game. Even with the shields in the way, it's still quite easy to know where the armored heads of the Astartes are behind them. I have no idea how the simulated arena will simulate spaced armor and armor penetration effect but it won't stop me from trying to drill a hole through the Salamanders' proverbial hide.
One of the reasons why I need Johnson and his band of survivors to lay it on thick on the Astartes is for their suppressive fire to cover up my technically invisible lasers. As long as the Salamanders remain behind their shields, I don't have to relocate as they can't scan for my presence after I take a shot. I crouch behind a topple-over marbled pillar, bracing my Long-las against the ornated object so that I can stably align my scope on the Salamander that is advancing slightly ahead of his peer. I breathe out slowly before pulling the trigger once, twice, thrice... It's only when the power pack of my gun signals for a replacement that I remove my left hand from its stabilizing position on the fore-end of the weapon. With my left finger, I pull out another power pack, holding it close to the magazine well of my Long-las before pressing the magazine release button and pulling out the empty one. Rather than losing precious seconds to retain the empty power pack, I slam the new power pack in before reaching underneath and over to the right side of the Long-las to pull the charging handle back before releasing it home with a clacking sound. And that's it, the Long-las is powered up and I immediately reengage the target I was aiming for. It's a swift, effortless, endeavor, with me not even required to look away from my sight picture.
Still fearless in their advance, the Salamanders either haven't realized that I have been taking shots at them or they opt to ignore them, trusting that their protection and agility will carry them through. It's a dangerous assumption to be had on the battlefield, yes, but it's not without reasons. The Salamanders are nearly on top of us, even with the makeshift shields slowing them down. Only a brief window remains for me to try and even the fight out even more. Unhesitatingly, I rebrace my rifle and pull the trigger, aiming for the same spot that I was going for with my previous power pack. One, two, three... Bingo! In the singular moment it takes for my supercharged laser shot to drill through the hole already deepened by the previous hit, multiple things happen at the same time.
Having spent most of its energy penetrating the damaged shield, the laser beam bounces and disperses harmlessly against the protected head of the unknown Salamander. This is soon followed by superheated streams of liquid material splattering and sparking against the green armor and firedrake coat of the Salamander. The supposedly lethal spalling does nothing other than add some decorative marks on the Salamander's pain job. However, as expected of Astartes' cognitive ability, he's already trying to readjust his shield in an effort to mask his mild surprise and nullify my advantage. It has thus become a race, with my finger already in motion to flick the power setting of my Long-las and the Salamander's keeping his head out of harm's way. But quite frankly, this race is rigged from the start.
By the time the power of my Long-las is set to extremely high and I pull the trigger, thus sending another invisible beam through the drilled hole on the shield, the Salamander's visor is already well out of the way and he promptly escaped being sniped in a vital position. Instead, what he does get is a proper bonk to his helmeted forehead. The simulated force is seemingly enough to knock his head backward and make him stumble a few steps. But before I can even think of capitalizing on the opportunity, the other Salamander has braved forward and covered his slightly disoriented teammate. Although the man doesn't seem like he will need an additional wall of steel, the camaraderie they show, even in this simulated arena, is quite touching. But then I see something that causes my eyes to widen in surprise. A flash of bolter fire, coming from a bolt rifle that has its muzzle jammed in between the hole in the shield.
For a brief moment, my hyperactive brain can't help but dryly comment.
'Whoever goes on to call the Salamanders some derogatory terms like the greenest Orks of the Imperium after this, I will have their ass puckered by an overcharged las beam.'
As for why I thought so crudely... Let's see, to triangulate the direction of where my technically invisible laser beam came from and use the newly opened firing port to retaliate swiftly show that this Salamander is extremely resourceful and swift in his thinking. Truly, his reactions thus far befit his veteran status. That said, I really need to do something about that incoming projectile... Or not.
Instead of immediately ducking away like a normal person, which I still will but only after I have returned the favor at the Salamander, I pull the trigger on my Long-las and use up the last of the energy in my new power pack. Unlike the bolter round which has a muzzle velocity and a ballistic trajectory, my laser doesn't have to deal with any of those usual annoyances. Even before the bolter round can cover 2/3rd of the distance between me and the Salamander, the beam from my Long-las is already drilling through the muzzle of the bolter and wreaking havoc on its internal. And while I would have loved to see the Salamander's astonishment at having the firing port being utilized against him in such a splendid manner, I have a more pressing concern.
Once again, using the tried and true method, I lean my body backward while kicking away at the toppled pillar for added momentum. I even crane my neck backward, making sure that I present a minimum profile against the incoming bolt round. While this will no doubt make me hurt my neck when I finally land on my back, it's still better than being unlucky enough to be hit on the head by a 19 mm projectile. Even then, I still barely make it, with the propelled munition flying dangerously close to my body. Thanks to my cognitive ability, I am capable of gazing at how the bolt round narrowly misses my chin and nose, being propelled to skim just shy of my hair and hitting the rim of my helmet. I feel a thud and vibration that travels down the base of my skull as my helmet is knocked clean off by the bolt round, with my unprotected head nearly slamming onto the floor as my body comes to a skidding halt. The bolt round, still maintaining its momentum, buries itself into the back wall of the floor I'm on. As for my helmet, it unironically bounces off the back wall before it lands back on top of my forehead with a resounding bonk.
"Ouch!" I yelp, taking a couple of seconds to nurse the soon-to-bruise and savor my brush with simulated death. "What are the odds, huh...? But at least there are only two bolters left in the arms of two very energized Salamanders, joy."
As I make the motion to reload another power pack into my Long-las, bloody hell I am burning through them quickly, I lay on my back and sense for the movements made by Johnson's band of merry survivors. I sigh wryly when I immediately feel the collapse of one of them and a very feminine scream, similar to how one may sound while being tased. Just by the reverberating voice alone, I know that the last of Scorpin's girlfriend got hit by one of the Salamanders, having taken the chance when I was preoccupied to retaliate. This means 3rd Platoon only has three left: Johnson, Weiss, and I, with us forming the three Musketeers, am I right?
Knowing that it's futile to hold the lower floor with our quite frankly abysmal offensive firepower, I make a brief vox communication.
"Johnson, push onto the upper floors."
"We are already doing that, Ein!" Comes Johnson's tense reply.
His transmission is followed by Weiss saying. "Our final stand shall be made at the top. That's kinda poetic in a way."
I giggle before rolling from my back to a crouch and starting to run on my feet. As swift as they are, Astartes can't immediately navigate multiple floors from the lobby they have just stormed into. First, they have no knowledge of the tower's layout. Second, the passageway and stairs, while roomy for normal humans and even Sisters of Battle, remain quite stuffy for the bigger and more powerful Astartes. Lastly, we trapped the hell out of the possible intrusion points to the upper floors.
"If you have time to joke around, Weiss, then you can at least make sure that you don't trigger the IEDs we laid by accidents." I remind the Rookie as I run around the floor to ensure my special preparations are still neatly in their places, which they are.
I walk up to a table with a bunch of equipment on it. To be exact, these are detonators connected to a bunch of explosives placed strategically in the tower. From where the table is, there's also a clear vista of the simulated city outside the tower. By the edge of the floor, there's a set of ropes just waiting to be deployed out the side of the buildings, just in case we need them for a quick getaway, unlike the ones being deployed internally of the tower for swift relocation. It's quite unfortunate that the latter aren't used at all when the battle begins.
Regardless, I stand by the multiple sets of detonators, each marked by good old sticky notes, which are very useful in telling me which detonator will blow up which bomb and where. Now that this has become a room-to-room fight, the usefulness of an overwatch is thus very minimal. Instead, I will become an unseen annoyance, ready to blow things up whenever the two Salamanders get within range of hidden explosives. There's no active internal security camera for this tower though, so to know when and where to use a detonator will be another round of guessing game. The hints will come from either Johnson or Weiss, with the possibility that the Salamanders are unlucky enough to trigger traps that can broadcast their current location. In short, I need to be on alert for audio cues, but not enough to ignore watching my back as Johnson and Weiss may not be able to help me. As veteran Salamanders, they must have known a great many tricks to keep their presence to a minimum as they navigate hostile buildings. There's a possibility that they can somehow bypass both the traps and Johnson and Weiss just a floor below me currently.
'If that's to be the case, however, I guess I am just that unlucky today... Despite my supposedly impressive luck thanks to the Daily Login Rewards.'
I sigh to myself while maintaining vigilance at my new posting.