Chapter 6 – Live Fire – ToBeLikeJesus

A time to love and a time to hate;

A time for war and a time for peace.

Ecclesiastes 3:8

Into The Zoo

Wade performed the pre-op ritual ingrained through their training, checking and re-checking his gear with practiced efficiency. Beside him, Alex, his dark eyes betraying no hint of the roiling storm lurking beneath that implacable facade, strapped on the earpiece and mic of the squad radio. Briggs, by contrast, seemed to buzz with a tightly-coiled intensity, his movements terse and economical as he slapped a fresh magazine home and chambered a plasma bolt. Though their demeanors were vastly contrasting, a unified sense of grim purpose bound the trio inextricably together – they were brothers, marching in lockstep towards the jaws of combat that awaited them.

The three were assigned to the freshly formed Charlie Company, 1st Platoon, 1st Squad. Charlie One One. Three more fresh-faced recruits – Privates Klingston, Smith and Torry – shifted uncertainly behind them, the gravity of the situation sinking in. Wade could feel the adrenaline surging as their squad lined up at the towering gates of “The Zoo.”

Staff Sergeant Reyes stepped in and circled the entire company around him. The old warhorse’s eyes bored into them with intensity.

“Alright Charlie Company, listen up! From this point forward, the kid gloves are off. You are cleared hot, weapons free to use lethal force. Keep your heads on a swivel and remember – the only thing keeping you alive is your training, your wits and your brothers beside you.” You’ve got a 5 click hump to your first Rally Point. You’ll leapfrog from there, the Tactical Operation Center will give you new objectives and navigate you through live combat scenarios.” A wolfish grin split Reyes’ scarred features. “Fair warning – you’re about to get your first taste of the real meat grinder out there. The drones were just an appetizer to the unholy Skravak abominations waiting for you. Let me be clear – if the Zoo gets the better of any one of you petunias and you tap out, kiss those Ranger dreams goodbye. If you survive, you’ll be reassigned to the grunt pool faster than you can blink.”

With a pause and glance over the whole company, he directed their attention to the chaplain. “Take a knee, the Padre has something to say.”

Chaplain Bronson stepped forward, raising a hand. “I want to ask for God’s blessing and protection on you Marines.” The graying combat chaplain’s voice carried clearly across the assembled company.

Bronson looked out over the grim, but baby-faced trainees. Balancing on one knee, under the weight of cumbersome equipment, each recruit fixed their attention on him.

He slowly removed his helmet, bowing his head as the rest of the company followed suit out of respect. “Let us pray…”

“Father in heaven we humbly come before you as your loyal warriors about to march through the shadow of death, we will fear no evil. We ask that you guard our bodies and souls against the profane horrors and depravations surely awaiting us. Give us the strength and courage to weather the storms of battle, to never falter in carrying out our sacred duty to defend the Confederacy and the very existence of humanity itself.”

His voice grew impassioned, resonating with experience from dozens of past campaigns. “Bless our efforts and give us both the wisdom and skill to defeat our enemy. We pray all of this in the mighty name of Jesus Christ. AMEN.”

A solemn stillness was broken by a resounding “amen” as the company stood to their feet bolstered with fresh resolve. They replaced their helmets and with Sergeant Reyes’ curt hand signal, the massive gates groaned open, revealing the harsh, cratered terrain and rubble-strewn city streets beyond the threshold. The air carried the distant echoes of pulse rifle fire ringing out, no doubt the other companies already in the thick of combat.

“Briggs, you’re the first squad leader for the first leg,” Reyes growled. “Get your squad to the rally point and await further instructions. Just focus on keeping your sheep together.”

Briggs barked, “Oorah Staff Sergeant!” His bravado crumbled slightly under the responsibility thrust onto his shoulders. “You got this?” Reyes questioned with a glare. “Yes, Staff Sergeant. I’ve got it.”

As they moved into wedge formation and crossed the threshold into The Zoo, Wade felt a strange sense of calm wash over him. This is what they’d trained for. Beside him, Alex was silent but radiating a stoic readiness. He offered his brothers a subtle nod, a reminder that they were in this together.

First Contact

The distant sounds of combat echoed all around them, underscoring the severity of the situation. Smoke billowed from clusters of ruins in the distance, obscuring large stretches of the city in an acrid shroud. Wade’s boots crunched over pulverized debris, the only sound besides the faint whisper of the wind.

The crackle of Briggs’ radio broke the eerie silence as he received coordinates from the TOC. Yet as they turned down an abandoned street strewn with the charred husks of burned-out ground cars, a flurry of Insectoid screams ripped through the air.

“Contact front!” Briggs barked, dropping into a crouch behind the skeleton of an overturned vehicle. Without hesitation, the rest of the squad mirrored his movements, rifles snapping up to engage.

Wade’s heart thundered in his ears as he scanned for threats. A wave of insect-like chitter and gurgles seemed to swell from the shadowy maze of rubble like a cresting tide. Emerging into the smoke-choked haze, Skravak scouts scrambled over the wreckage, their midnight-black carapaces gleaming as they closed the distance with frightening speed.

An icy chill lanced down Wade’s spine as the monstrosities materialized before his eyes – these were no mere drones, but the lethal hunters Reyes had warned them about. At nearly seven feet tall, they dwarfed the smaller worker caste with their heavily-muscled, armored frames. Each one bristled with razor-sharp talons and serrated mandibles designed to shred flesh.

There was barely time to process the threat before the Skravaks unleashed a demonic shriek and surged forward in a wave of gnashing, flailing limbs. Smith was the first to unleash a volley of azure fire, pulse rounds stitching a path across the ground.

Besides Wade, Briggs remained calm and proficient, calling out firing directions and sectors with crisp economy. “Smith, Klingston – reinforce the right flank! Torry with me on the left!”

Wade felt a surge of confidence seeing Briggs slip so calmly into the role of a squad leader. Alex laid down a withering field of cover fire as the rest of them adjusted, bolts of plasma searing through the air.

For a breathless moment, the maelstrom of clashing forces transformed the ravaged street into a kaleidoscope of muzzle flashes and screaming plasma. Then a burst of azure fire impacted a Skravak dead center, the sheer kinetic force sheering off its arm in an eruption of ichor. The creature unleashed a shrill, agonized wail that echoed off the shattered buildings.

With that first blood drawn, the battle devolved into chaos. Smoke and dust billowed with each searing lance of pulse fire, obscuring the nightmarish figures darting in and out of the debris. Wade was dimly aware of Briggs continuing to issue calm directions over the din, but in the swirling madness of combat, all that mattered was the sight picture before him and squeezing the trigger.

As the Skravak scouts and hunters surged forward amidst shrieks and gnashing mandibles, Alex quickly recognized the need to thin their numbers before they overwhelmed their position.

“Grenade out!” he shouted, having set the digital slider on the metal ball-like explosive to “Grenade” and hurling it in a high arcing trajectory. The small spherical explosive detonated in a blinding azure flash, sending out a lethal spray of plasma that seared through the leading edge of the Skravak advance.

Ichor and scorched chitin fragments rained down as two of the larger hunter forms were blown apart, their torsos reduced to smoldering chunks of biomatter. Several more scouts were left as mangled wrecks, limbs sheared off by the brutal force of the detonation.

Wade saw an opportunity to press the advantage as the enemy’s momentum stalled momentarily and they skittered behind a large slab of concrete jutting out of the middle of the street. “Grenade! Watch your front!” he called out, lobbing his own pulse grenade against the leaning super structure of a half toppled building making a perfect bank shot into the seething mass of Skravaks. It detonated with a resounding thunderclap, scattering body parts against the wall and sliding onto the asphalt before them and disrupting any attempt to reorganize.

“Solid throws, you two! Keep pouring it on!” Briggs barked in grim approval, his own rifle becoming a continuous stream of azure lances into the melee.

Almost on cue, Torry and Smith lobbed grenades into the advancing huddle of the midnight-black hunters. They were immediately shredded apart by the blasts, viscous yellow fluids splattering the rubble. The few remaining scouts screeched in what almost sounded like pain and anger as the grenade’s destructive power tore into their ranks.

The timely explosive barrage bought the squad precious seconds to regain fire superiority and reestablish their defensive posture. Pulse rounds started cutting down the disorganized Skravaks as they tried to reform their attack waves.

The recruits moved with the muscle memory drilled into them through weeks of grueling exercises. But those pale imitations had been mere sparring bouts compared to the real thing. As another Skravak corpse struck the ground with a sickening crunch, splattering caustic ichor, Wade felt a part of himself recoil in revulsion before the training kicked back in.

His world narrowed to the ringing of his rifle and locating the next threat, one heartbeat blurring into the next in a disorienting haze of adrenaline. Pure savagery reigned in those tremulous moments of infernal baptism by fire.

Then, as abruptly as it had begun, the skirmish fell silent aside from the echoes bouncing off the skeletal cityscape. One by one, the squad ceased firing as the threat was neutralized, reduced to twitching heaps of viscera-slicked chitin.

“Cease fire! Ace Report!” Briggs’ voice carried over the eerie stillness as he rose from cover. Squad members reported the status of their Ammo, Casualties, and Equipment. Everything was good to go with exception of their ammo. After redistributing their magazines they discovered they had used forty percent of their pulse rifle ammo and all but six plasma grenades. Scanning their ranks, he let out a haggard sigh of relief acknowledging zero casualties among their own. The enemy didn’t fare so well. Twelve Skravak Scouts and five Hunters lay mangled in the street and rubble before them. “Alright my fellow Maggots, saddle up! We’ll bound in overwatch to Alpha on the double.”

While the rest moved to comply, Smith and Klingston exchanged a terse look, the unspoken tension sizzling in the air between them. Whatever grievance simmered, Wade didn’t have time for it before they were hustling through the shattered remains of the city once more.

As they ran, Wade felt a swell of admiration for Briggs’ steadfast leadership in the heat of battle. Months ago, he never would have guessed the former tormentor had such a reservoir of courage and capability. But then, none of them knew the metamorphosis that awaited them within the scorching heart of Carthis 7’s trials.

When they finally reached the coordinates for Rally Point Alpha – a bombed-out and fortified apartment complex – the fatigue and strain began gnawing at him. Ducking into the skeletal husk of the ground floor, Wade sank against a crumbling wall beside Alex and Torry. A quiet settled over the squad as they caught their breath and drank huge gulps of water from their canteens and ravenously ate a couple of energy bars.

Wade Steps to the Plate

Wade shoveled the tasteless ration bar into his mouth, trying to ignore the tremor in his hands as the adrenaline ebbed. Beside him, Alex was a still as a statue, his expression unreadable behind those dark, fathomless eyes.

“Not bad for our first dance with the Skravs,” Briggs said with a mirthless chuckle as he leaned against the crumbling doorway keeping watch. “Although I could’ve done without all the chittering and slashing legs.”

A terse snort escaped Smith where she crouched nearby, daubing at a graze along her jaw that oozed a thin trickle of blood. “Could’ve used a little more fire discipline if you ask me,” she grumbled, shooting Klingston a pointed look.

The wiry recruit bristled visibly. “Hey, I was just making sure none of those creepy crawlers made it into our stroll through the garden, princess.”

“Enough,” Briggs growled before the seeds of dissent could blossom further. “We’re still breathing, which is more than I can say for those Skravak freaks back there. Stay frosty – I’ve got a feeling that was just the opening act.”

Before anyone could respond, Briggs’ radio crackled to life with Sergeant Reyes’ gruff voice cutting through the static.

“Charlie One, One, this is Mongoose 7, Over.

Briggs straightened, all business.

“Mongoose 7, This is Charlie One One, Go.”

“SITREP over.”

“We’re sitting tight at Alpha, Mongoose 7. Light contact en route but we splattered a few bugs in the process. We’ll need a resupply of ammo and grenades.”

“Roger that,” Reyes replied, a hint of grim satisfaction in his tone. “Good job Private Briggs, Resupply will be cached at next rally Point…Change of leadership. Private Kovacs, you are now the new squad leader…

Wade came up on the comms. “Roger that, Mongoose 7, Over.

Prepare to copy…New objective – move to grid 417995 to clear that sector.”

Wade punched the coordinates into the wrist datapad that immediately illuminated a map on his visor designating the location with a blue pin. He felt his gut clench at those words, “you’re the new squad leader,” the first tendril of trepidation creeping in. Close-quarters battle was one of the deadliest scenarios they could face, compounded by the oppressive environs of this simulated warzone. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Alex shifting almost imperceptibly into a state of heightened readiness.

“Wilco Mongoose 7, grid 417995, clear sector.” Wade said with a measured calm that belied any inner turmoil.

“We’re moving in five mikes. Over”

“Roger, Mongoose 7, Out”

Gearing up

As the channel fell silent once more, everyone in the squad fixed their eyes on the new squad leader. A muscle ticked beneath Wade’s jaw as he weighed his next words with care.

“Alright people, listen up. Our next phase is taking the fight to those Skravo freaks on their turf. And let me be clear – tonight we eat broiled Skravak! They got to taste better than these energy bars.”

A mirthless chuckle rippled through the squad. Wade found a grim smile tugging at the corners of his mouth despite the gravity of their circumstances. Even under unimaginable duress, Wade’s leadership style had a way of steadying their nerves.

“CQB is gonna be a whole different beast,” Briggs, the former bully quipped, all hints of levity draining from his voice. “Close quarters battle, low visibility, those slashers using hit-and-run tactics in narrow corridors.

Alex, shot over his shoulder, “Then we use the blade! I want them to look me in the eyes this time as I drain their slimy bodies of junk we call blood.”

Everyone chuckled except for Alex.

“I…we gotta keep moving,” Klingston managed after clearing his throat. “Can’t let those creepy crawlers start flanking and setting ambushes. If we stay mobile, use grenades to clear rooms before pushing in-“

“And keep our corners and gaps locked down tight,” Alex rumbled in agreement. “Move as a solid unit, no one gets left behind or separated. We break, they’ll chew us up piece by piece.”

A heaviness hung over the squad as the tactical realities sank in. Wade felt a shiver of dread wriggling through him – this was what Reyes and the DIs had warned about. Taking the fight directly into the jaws of the enemy with overwhelming lethality as the only insurance against being torn apart. There could be no hesitation, no flinching.

“Alex,” Wade said, his expression inscrutable. “Take point. Briggs, you and Torry watch the rear security. Smitty – you’re on the right flank. Klingston, you and I on the left. Let’s move out.”

There was no dissent, no outcry or showboating as the young recruits absorbed their roles and began making their final preparations. A solemn understanding washed over them – like a plunge into icy waters, their childish trappings had been stripped away, subsumed by the brutal realities of the arena they had entered.

Briggs gripped Wade’s shoulder, his jawline taut. “You ready for this, brother?”

Something profound passed between them in that moment, struggles and bonds forged through blood and anguish. Wade met his gaze levelly, allowing a grim half-smile to crease his dirt-smudged features.

“No,” Wade said simply with a slight smirk spreading on his face. “But I don’t have a choice now, do I?”

Briggs returned the smile, undaunted and shamelessly proud. “That’s my little pound of insecticide!”

With a terse nod, Wade fell in beside his one-time tormentor as the squad began moving out. His rifle felt impossibly heavy, yet his grip remained steady, steadfast in the face of looming savagery.

Whatever fresh tortures awaited them in the abandoned cityscape, they were Rangehounds now. He thought about Mike. He missed his buddy and wished he was here as a part of the squad. But he would survive, persevere no matter the toll – if for nothing else for the sake of his fallen comrade.

As the suns set and darkness closed in on the squad, the muffled thunder of distant explosions rumbled as they moved deeper into the urban maze, drawn inexorably towards their next threat. Wade could feel himself growing numb to the viscera and ruin surrounding them with every step. When the shooting started again, which it would, he was ready. He was gaining experience by the hour and his metal was passing the test of the furnace of the fight.