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For 35yrs the border between the Human Empire and Gorgonzola Empire as remained mostly peaceful. The citizens for the Human Empire of this border region are loyal to the last man, woman, and child to the Empire. It was on one of these worlds that gave birth to a legend. The world of Apollo 6 is one of the harshest worlds within the Empire. One so harsh that only it could claim to be the birth world of James J. Owens, the most feared of Death Dealers. A world that is even now poised to give birth to a new legendary warrior. One who shall be baptized in the blood of the Empire’s enemies. Robert Wolff youngest great grandchild of James Owens’ sister Cecilia Owens.

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Chapter 13
Day 35 of the war, Day 30 of the occupation.
Whitechapel District, Goulcrest: 1035

As I sat back in the basement of the Sky Reach Orphanage at the old card table. I knew that tomorrow morning was going to bring radical changes. I looked over at Father Mike as he studied the city map spread out across the table. I could tell by the look on his face his wasn’t happy with my plan. Hell, even Blackjack and Spider weren’t happy with my plan.

“Robert I really wish you would reconsider this plan. Let someone else take out the spaceports control tower.” Father Mike begged me one more time.

“I agree with the Padre here Ripper. I got twenty-five of the meanest sons-of-bitches in all of Goulcrest and another seventy hardcore bangers itching to earn their colors. You just give us the word, and we’ll drop that tower like a tone of brinks.” Spider almost pegged of me.

“As much as I hate to say this. I have to agree with them Ripper.” Blackjack grunted using my old street name. That’s another thing I’ve had to deal with lately. Ever since Spider used my street name at that sit down people have taken to calling me Ripper again. I busted my ass to leave that name in my past. Yet it seems the old saying about never outrunning your past is true. “For frack’s sake let one of us handle the tower. You’re the real force behind the resistance now.”

“No, I’m not Blackjack. That honor belongs to Jennifer Julian. I want it to stay that fracking way. Understand!?” I barely kept the snarl out of my voice. “The only thing I wanted to know or hear is where Grayson Vanderbilt is getting those weapons.”

“Simple that suck ass was diverting arms ships from the PDF to his butt buddies in Militias, Ripper. He paid half the gangs in Goulcrest to steal those shipments. The only ones we didn’t frack with were the ones headed for the Death Dealer bases. Anything headed for the PDF was far game.” Spider chuckled. “Not all of those shipments made it his people intact. Though the really big shit got lost completely at the docks and storage yards. Nobody knows where they went.”

“What are we talking about here Spider?” Father Mike asked him quickly.

“Shit like fast attack vehicles, multiple rocket launchers, motors, antitank guns, heavy artillery cannons, and a whole shit load of other stuff.” At Father Mike’s look of confusion Spider explained. “Got a cousin that worked down spaceport. He told me about more than one PDF shipment getting rerouted on orders from Vanderbilt or one of his lackies.”

“What about assault rifles, and light machineguns? Were the gangs able to get your hands on any of those?” Father Mike asked with real hope in his voice.

“Where do you think the we got the weapons, we’ve been using came from?” Spider chuckled. “The only weapons we don’t have are those fancy sniper rifles. Got plenty of rounds for them but nothing to fire those rounds. Four full crates.”

“What’s the caliber and type Spider?” I asked quickly. Hoping that the round he had were .408 caliber as I was down to 5 SABO and 6 HEAT. Blackjack said I might be able to get a resupply at one of the Cheesehead supply dumps. I wasn’t holding my breath on that blind hope. I really needed those rounds today.

“I can only tell what the crates say. ON the side of the crates, it says caliber four-oh-eight APFSDS, and HEAT. Each crate holds two four-hundred-round cans. One is black with yellow lettering, the other is red with black lettering. Does that help?” Spider asked as both Father Mike and Blackjack chuckled.

“Spider you just solved the resupply problem for my rifle, old buddy.” I chuckled. “Right now, we got a bigger problem. That ATC tower needs to be taken out.”

“I know someone one might be able to help with that Ripper. Though I don’t know if he’ll be willing to help us.” Spider cringed as being hit by something. “Let me correct that. He’ll help you but it’ll be best if am not there.”

“Who you talking about Spider?” Father Mike asked with a knowing smile.

“My grandfather. If there is anything to know about that spaceport. He’ll know it.” Spider grunted. “I lost count of how many weekends he drug me out to watch dropships and shuttles land or takeoff.”

“Dominic stay here with Robert and Carol. Better yet take Robert and recover those crates of ammunition. I also want you to find at least three of your best people. Ones that you can trust with your life, Dominic.” Father Mike ordered us as he stood up. “And Dominic also bring back enough assault rifles and if you have them two light to medium machineguns with enough rounds to pin down the local security. Everybody meets back here in two hours.”

It took me and Spider exactly 105 minutes to make the round trip to the Demon Pistols’ safehouse, gather the needed gang members, assault rifles, and two light machineguns. Spider also gave me something really special at the safehouse. For once I glad that the Brownshirts were in charge of policing the city. The stupid cock bits drove around with their light bars flashing. Giving us plenty of time to find hidey holes and back alleys.

In the last 20 days the gangs of Goulcrest and police have become a deadly pairing. Of all the shit to happen in this fracked-up war I never expected to see the cops and gang bangers working together. Then again when you have pros trained in anticriminal tactics working with hardened criminals you get a very unique combination. So unique that they were playing marry hell with the Brownshirts and the Cheesehead Military Supply chains. Between cops knowing how to predicted the Brownshirts’ patrol routes and the gangs knowledge of the streets. They had become an unstoppable team of diehard patriots.

We were also getting reports in from the outer Provinces of organized Resistance Cells forming. A few of those reports pointed to Death Dealers operating in some of those areas. There could only be one reason for those reports. My team along the Black Saints had made it down and were operating. Another surprise in those reports was the confirmation that there was one more survivor from the Parliament. Jacqueline Moore, Congresswomen for Lineberry.

When we reached the orphanage, I found that Father Mike had returned with more than just Spider’s grandfather. He was joined by Captain Wallace and two of his most trusted SWAT Officers. Of all the men on the SWAT teams, Lieutenants Zack Cooper and Caleb McGill were the best. They’ve been two of the driving forces behind the peace between the cops and the gangbangers. I stepped up to the two men and greeted them with a firm handshake. “Coop, Mac, what brings you out at this time of night?”

“We heard you planned on rising a little hell over at the spaceport Ripper.” Cooper wisecracked and gave the gathered gangbangers a steely glare. “Seems that our informant forgot to add that you were planning on taking along some friends.”

“What can I say? When I throw a block party everyone wants in on it.” I chuckled. Then looked over at Spider’s grandfather. “Sorry for dragging you out at this time of night Mister Lloyd. It seems that you have information that can help us in tonight’s little walk through the shadows.”

“If you’re talking about taking out the ATC Tower and most of the spaceport then you’re going to need these.” The old man said with a smile and held up a stack of rolled up papers. “These are the original plans for the spaceport.”

As Mr. Lloyd rolled out the plans I was surprised that the spaceport was laid out almost exactly to the plans. The one major deference between what was on paper and what was built were the storage tanks for the liquid chauntine. There was something else that was bugging me about the blueprints. Something that didn’t make sense. “Mister Lloyd am I reading this correctly? Does the spaceport sit two meters below ground level? That has to be a misprint.”

“That’s no misprint, youngster. The whole area had to be leveled off down to smooth bedrock. It was excavated down four meters before being built backup using two meters of blast-crete reinforced with zaxel crystal. That’s the reason they had to move the storage tanks to the other side of the port.” Lloyd explained as he ran his finger over the eight 50,000-gallon storage tanks. “See this area below the tanks? It’s a retaining wall.”

“Gramps are you saying that if we blow that wall. Those tanks will dump onto the spaceport. That would only close down the port for a few days.” Spider pointed out. “That shit maybe dropship and shuttle fuel, but it’s stable a hell. You need an actual rocket, shuttle, or dropship engine to burn it.”

“Did you forget everything I taught you about dropships and shuttles boy?” Mister Lloyd snapped and thumped Spider on the back of the head. “What is the FIRST thing that every fuel truck does before filling the tanker trailer?”

“Damned old man! You don’t need to be smacking me in the head.” Spider bitched as he rubbed the back of his head. “Everyone knows that they have to hookup the ground cable. They don’t they run the chance of blowing sky-high from.”

Spider stopped dead in his explanation as the older Lloyd grinned. “Holy shit, Gramps! You’re talking about close to four-hundred-thousand-gallons of high-grade refined liquid chauntine. An explosion of that size will drop the Silver Bluff ridge line on top of the spaceport.”

“That would be a lovely sight Dominic, but it won’t happen. That ridge line is some of the hardest black granite in the known universe.” Mister Lloyd waved his hand over the spaceport and surrounding area. “This whole area sits on the same granite. The original grading was so uneven that if they tried to lay the foundation over what was there without smoothing out the bedrock. The first-time dropship land would have caused massive cracking, if not a total collapse of the runways.”

“Wow! Is that why the spaceport is surrounded by a retaining?” Blackjack asked with real surprise. “I thought that was just there for decoration.”

“Not hardly young lady. There was not one inch of the spaceport that wasn’t taken into account during construction. The biggest concern was the placement of the liquid chauntine storage tanks.” Lloyd put his finger on the other side of the port where they were supposed to go. “They found during the test drilling that this area was little better that basement clay. Over here where they were actually built is all slate granite. Easily cleared, quarried, and terraced, but very stable.”

“Let me see if I got this right. First they had to excavated down four meters to solid base rock. Then they had to build that back up two with two meters of blast-crete reinforced with zaxel crystal. Around the edge of this they placed a two-meter-tall retaining wall. They did all this before they began construction of the actual ATC tower, terminal, hangers, storage tank yard, and other facilities. What the hell were they thinking?” Cooper asked in confusion.

“This was the only area where they could place the spaceport without endangering the city with overflights.” Lloyd chuckled at the looks of shock from his audience. “That doesn’t cover the politics that came into play.”

“I only have one question. Once we drop those tanks. How do we ignite the chauntine? If it takes an electrical charge just how big of a charge are we talking about?” I asked with real concern.

“Boy! Are you daft or what?! We have two Second-Gen Death Dealers. Don’t stand there telling me that your PPCs don’t have that kind of punch.” Lloyd grinned with such a pure nastiness that I had only seen in Drill Sergeants.

“Ah shit! Why didn’t I think of that?” I almost whined as everything about Mister Lloyd’s plan clicked into place. “Even with close to four-hundred-thousand-gallons of chauntine spread out across the spaceport it would only be an inch to inch-and-half deep at the most. The blast will go upward. Thanks to shape of the spaceport floor and the reinforced blast-crete. The only thing that could remain standing would be the retaining wall at best. The problem will be in buying someone enough time to plant the need charges at the base of the tanks then the retaining wall.”

“That’s why Captain Wallace and his boys are here.” Father Mike explained. “When I heard that Mr. Lloyd could help us with taking out the spaceport. I knew that you would jump at the chance to destroy it in the most spectacular way.”

“We’re here to provide a major distraction for our friends in the Civic Intelligence Department. Three strike teams. Three targets. Each one a prime check point along one of the three main supply routes outside of the city limits. The gangs got no problems raising hell within the city, but once they get outside their neighborhoods shit doesn’t work as well.” Captain Wallace explained as he rolled out a map over the spaceport blueprints. “Red-routes one, three, and six are all scheduled for heavy convoy traffic between zero-five-hundred and zero-eight-thirty. We hit them just as they’re setting up a zero-four-forty-five. It will throw off their traffic control schedule. The Brownshirts are good at rounding up suspected civilians.”

“But suck ass at everything else when it comes to police work. A few well-placed teargas canisters, some sting-ball grenades, throw in a healthy spray of suppression fire from our two-nineties, with pinpoint accuracy from the forty-eights, and those checkpoints collapse.” Cooper chuckled with a nasty grin.

“While we hit them you and Spider nail the fuel tanks. Unless the little lady there can give us more information on our targets.” McGill chuckled.

“The convoys need to be considered a secondary target. The convoy on Red Route three needs to be captured if possible. The four heavy lift transports that make up the main body of the convoy are carrying man portable M-thirty-two antitank laser guided missile launchers with M-twenty-eight antitank Rage Fire laser guided missiles. Those weapons can give our forces a much-needed boost in firepower. The other two are carrying mixed cargos of liquid tri-lox and field rations.” Blackjack rattled off then scratched her chin. “If Cooper and McGill can hit the two convoys on routes one, and six while they’re close enough to the checkpoints. My people with a little help from the local gang can capture the convoy on three.”

“Take J-bone with you. I’ll call ahead and have the Wolverine Syndicate meet you on the far side of Infinity Bridge. When you reach their territory talk with either Coyote or Foxfire. Tell them your wanting to hijack those four heavy cargo lifts. Of all the crews in Goulcrest they’re best at jacking loads in transits.” Spider told her honestly. “If either of them gives you any shit. Remind them of the truce. Especially that asshole Coyote.”

“Sure. Just like dealing with every other politician I’ve dealt with over the years. Only at least with your friends I don’t have to worry about count my fingers after I shake their hands.” Blackjack snarked with a friendly grin and thumped the young gangbanger J-bone on the back. “Honest thieves are a better class of people all-round. Time to have some fun J-bone. Don’t worry stick around me and Copperhead long enough we’ll make a proper sneaky bastard of you.”

“Trust me, J-bone. Listen to the lady. If anybody knows about being a sneaky rotten bastard. It’s Blackjack.” Father Mike chuckled then turned to Carol. “Get a move on little lady. You don’t have all night. Don’t worry. We’ll be right behind you.”

Blackjack tossed us a friendly salute then grabbed J-bone and disappeared into the early morning hours of the night. Father Mike looked over at Captain Wallace and his men. “You know what to do Captain. Take you boys and get going. You got three and half hours to get into place. Spider take your people and go with them. Act as their guides through the territories.”

“We’re gone. Spider let’s go. Time is wasting.” Captain Wallace ordered the gang leader. When Spider went to argue his grandfather just glare and he shut up. As the gangbangers and cops left the basement Father Mike turned to me deploying his bio-armor. It took me a second to recognize the black, white, and gray tiger stripe camouflage color scheme. I should say it took Celest a second to recognize it.

“A Black Tiger from The Queen’s Second Commando Regiment. Why am I not surprised?” I sighed and engaged my bio-armor. I chuckled at the look that crossed CAMW James O’Brian’s face. “Yeah, I never thought I would be accepted into the First Special Operations Group either, Master Chief.”

“You and your team must have impressed the frack out of the higher ups kid. Then again I always knew that you would go far once you got off this rock.” Father Mike said as he pulled a set of storage lockers away from the back wall of the basement. On the other side was a hidden arms room. I watched as he brought out fourteen gray shoulder bags. I knew exactly what they were just from the shape and color. Satchel charges, ten pounds of plastic explosives, each. “I hope that’s C-four, or Semtax.”

“Let’s just say that you don’t want to be near these babies when the blow.” Father Mike chuckled and handed me seven of the charges. I took the time to read the warning on the last bag. I wish I hadn’t.

“Where the hell did you get your hands on Hand-Axe-seventy? This shit is over thirty years old. Is it even fracking stable?” I asked with trembling hands.

“Don’t ask questions that you don’t want answered, Robert.” Father Mike chuckled. “As for it being stable. It’s a hell of a lot more stable than an Omega/Assault class Death Dealer AI.”

I think I was just insulted.Celeste bitched as I chuckled. You going to take that?

‘Yes you were, and it fits. You are unstable.’ Told her only to get a huff of indignation from my AI. My chuckle must have peaked Father Mike’s attention. “I take it that I just pissed of your AI?”

“Yup. She got a little indignant over being called unstable for some reason.” I chuckled right along with Father Mike. As I slung the satchel charges over my shoulders I gave the older Death Dealer a nasty grin. “We got four hours before the others start raising hell. Do you think we can make it in time?”

“At full run using the blue-line tunnel to Sliver Bluff Park one-hour-forty-minutes. Then working back down the side of the mountain fifty-minutes. Another twenty-minutes to place the charges against the tanks. With thirty-minutes to set the needed charges against the retaining wall. Four hours on the dot.” He rattled off.

“Cutting it close. What if we take the green-line tunnel? It’ll cutdown our transit time by ten minutes.” I offered.

“No good. Too many stops along the green-line tunnel. The blue-line is a direct shot with no stops other than Sliver Bluff Park.” Father Mike said as he closed the door to the hidden arms room. “Besides, we need to come down on the far side of the tank yard. The green-line tunnel ends on the wrong side of the spaceport.”

“Tell me something Father Mike.” I started only to be stopped by the older man.

“I left that name, and life behind the moment I deployed my bio-armor Ripper. In truth I left that all behind me the day the Cheeseheads started this war.” Father Mike snarled. “A man of the cloth has no place on the battlefield. They’ve taken far too much from me and my flock. Back in the day my team called me Stalker.”

“Short for Night Stalker.” I grinned as we exited the basement. “I take it that you had never planned on letting anyone know about that arms room or you being a Second-Gen. You can still back out. I can get the job done on my own.”

“We both know that is a crock of bullshit Ripper. Let’s not bullshit ourselves here. This mission has a fifty-fifty chance of going totally sideways with both of us. On your own the chances of survival are one-in-twenty at best.” Stalker sighed. “Look Ripper. I’ve been planning most of this strike for the last twelve years. I know exactly how to hit that storage tank yard. I’ve waited for this chance to repay your parents and you. I should have been the one to die that day.”

“Hold on Stalker. What went down that day was no one’s fault. It was nothing more than a bad luck draw. My parents got dealt a shitty hand. They played the cards they were dealt and cashed out.” I stopped then sighed as I looked down at my feet. “Look I’ve spent the last twelve years running from the truth. These last few weeks have proven that to me. I was a kid blaming all the wrong people with a massive chip on the shoulder. One that took a DI to knock off.”

“You weren’t that bad, Robert. Misguided at times sure, but you were always a good kid.” Father Mike interrupted me kindly. “Though I always knew that you would end up wearing the uniform of a Death Dealer. You were just too damned twisted to stay an ass in the grass grunt.”

“Okay enough stroking of the egos Stalker. Let’s get this show on the road.” I snarked and headed for the underground tunnels. Of all the tunnels under the city only one ever gave me the creeps. It just had to be the one tunnel we were about to use. The Phoenix Subway Rail Route or blue-line 25 miles long from end-to-end. A subway tunnel that cost 25 million credits and 25 lives to build. In the first two months a subway train wreck cost the lives of 31 passengers. It wasn’t the only wreck on the blue-line during the first year of operation for the blue-line. Over the first 12 months there were three more wrecks and another 19 lives.

That damned tunnel had enough ghosts to bug out even Celest. Not that I believe in ghosts. It’s just that there are certain things that defy scientific explanation. There are things in that fracking tunnel that fall into that category. As we entered the tunnel Stalker stopped and sprinkled something on the ground then said a prayer. He turned to me with a grin. “No need in pissing off the ghosts.”

I just chuckled and followed him deeper into the tunnel. We pushed our enhanced bodies to their limits. Between the distance and extra 140lbs of unstable Hand-Axe explosives we were close to our limits. I knew that if the other hastily formed teams began their attacks before we were ready. Our mission to destroy the spaceport would turn into a fracking suicide mission. The only good thing about the occupation was all subway trains were shutdown after sundown. This time that precaution would come back to bight the Cheeseheads and their collaborative friends in the ass.

We exited the blue-line tunnel’s service entrance just below Sliver Bluff Park. It didn’t take us as long as Father Mike estimated to reach the mountain side of the security wall surrounding the storage tank yard. As we were going over the top of the wall the sounds of explosions could be heard coming from four points around town. Celeste gave me a quick update on what was happening.

‘Captain Wallace, his men, and members from the surrounding gang territories have engaged the Cheeseheads at all 3 checkpoints, Robert. The convoy traveling through the Wolverine Syndicate’s territory has been hit by Agent Blackjack, her people, and 10 members of the Wolverine Syndicate. From the radio reports that I have been able highjack the Red route 3 convoy is now in our control.’

‘Thanks, Celeste. Keep an ear on those radio transmissions. I got a feeling that they’re not out of the woods yet.’ I ordered her as I dropped to the ground ten feet below me. ‘Can you patch me into Blackjack’s frequency?’

‘Negative. The Emperor’s Hand use a highly encrypted frequency. Only they have the key. I’m sorry I can’t be of more use, Robert.’

‘Forget that shit Celeste. Just keep track of the Cheeseheads and their response. If they start moving troops to intercept that captured convoy let me know.’ I turned to look for Father Mike only to find him getting ready to place the satchel charge. During our run through the tunnel, we split up the job of placing the charges. While he placed the charges that would rupture the tanks. I would take care of the security and retaining wall nearest the port.

Without a thought I ran for the wall and leaped to the top. Once I was over I started placing the first of my six 20lbs. charges. I set them in a V pattern going up the wall. Starting four feet from the ground going upward. With the last two charges I placed twenty feet apart at the base of the security wall. As I set them I activated the remote detonators and keyed them to the same frequency.

With my charges set I jumped to the top of the wall and dropped over the edge. After finding Father Mike placing the final charge. “Are you sure that the chauntine won’t blow when we set off the charges?”

“That’s why I’ve placed the charges five feet from the tank walls. The force of the blast will cave in the side facing the spaceport. Without the security wall all of this will dump out into the manmade basin.” Father Mike told me with a nasty smile. “Trust me Ripper. The plan will work. Just remember we need to be at our max range.”

“Right. If not we become a pair of crispy critters.” I had Celeste calculate how far up the slope we needed to be safe and still ignite the chauntine. I didn’t like the result she arrived at. “Shit. We’re damned if we do, damned if we don’t.”

“We just need to reach the Hallmark outcropping.” At my look of confusion Father Mike chuckled. “Like I said. I’ve been planning this strike for a long time.”

We dropped to the ground and headed for the Hallmark outcropping. The granite rock outcropping in question was just inside the maximum range of our PPCs. As we dropped behind the outer edge I triggered the satchel charges. The retaining wall charges were the first to blow. As the wall crumbled outward onto the basin. The first two storage tank charges detonated. Just as Father Mike predicted the tank walls caved inward under the blast force. The chauntine poured out onto the spaceport basin. With each explosion the tide of fuel grew. At first it would have taken the ground crew four to five days to cleanup the spill. By the last explosion there was an inch of the deadly chemical spread the whole basin.

“Ready?” Was all Father Mike asked of me as he deployed the PPC in his left arm. With nothing more than a hope and pray I deployed my own PPC. I targeted the center of the primary runway. Father Mike, I should say Stalker began a countdown. “On the count of three. Three, two, one.”

We both fired at the same time. As the charged particles reached out like frozen ropes of pure electrical plasma to touch the chauntine. The liquid boiled, then flashed, turning to pure fire. The fireball that engulfed the spaceport turned dropships to scrape, shuttles to melted piles of metal, and shuttles to nothingness. The terminal and ATC tower fell over under the pressure of the blast, turning to twist piles of smashed concrete and steel. The maintenance hangers collapsed inward from the heat generated by the burning fuel. The shockwave rolled up the side of the mountain knocking me and Father Mike on our asses. Along with knocking over any tree that wasn’t two feet in diameter. The heat and shock wave washed out my combat sensors. I knew that it would take Celeste a while to bring them back online.

“Son of a bitch!” I stammered out as I stagged to my feet. “What the hell happened to my combat sensors?! Nothing has ever knocked them offline before.”

“You’ve never had more than four-hundred-thousand-gallons of rocket fuel blowup your face before.” Father Mike chuckled bluntly. “Give your AI a few seconds to compensate for the shockwave. My AI has been through something like this before.”

“When?” I asked.

“More than thirty-years ago, in a valley that was little better than a death trap. That valley became a target for over flight bombardment by half the Midnight Fleet.” The more Father Mike talked about the Battle for the Eastern Continent of Seth. The more I wanted to shit gold bricks. Of the Death Dealers that survived the battle there were so few of them left. “Took most of us thirty minutes to get our sensors back online. It was the death and destruction I saw in those trenches that had me looking for answers outside of the military.”

‘Robert I have our combat sensors back online. We need to move now! We got an enemy patrol incoming. Five clicks out and closing fast. One platoon of Armored Infantry with a full lance of Med APS. I’m marking one LU-six Lust, one CH-nine Challenger and two B-two-TZ Blitz. There are three more platoons Mounted Infantry two clicks behind them in H-N1 Bayonet Armored Personal Carriers.’

‘Oh shit! Not fracking good! That’s more than a reinforced patrol.’ I turned to Father Mike. Only to see the same look in his eyes. “GO! I’ll handle the incoming Cheeseheads, Father Mike. It’s time to introduce the Cheeseheads to the man behind the ghost that has been hunting them.”

“Hold on here Ripper. We can clear the area long before they get here.”

“One of those AP Suits is a Lust Stalker. The second we move from they’ll be all over our asses. One of us has to distract them. We both know that the treaty between the cops and the gangs is holding because of you. Both sides know I’ll pound on them if they get out of line. YOU they respect. ME they fear.” I told him and got set to make my run on the incoming Cheeseheads.

“Hit the Blitz’s first. Their weak point is the joint between the waist and chest plate armor. It’s not an easy shot and can only be taken from point blank.” Father Mike went on to explain about the weak point for the other two models. “The fastest way to take down the Lust is to set off the autocannon in the right shoulder. Your problem child will be the Challenger. It may be a fifty-five-ton APS, but it’s armored as well as a Heavy. The only weak point at the back of the neck. Just below the head where it joints the neck.”

“Thanks for the advice. Now get ready to run. The Resistance needs its Soul.” With nothing more than a second glance I took off like a bat out of hell. Without the 140lbs of unstable explosives I was able to reach my full 105MPH cursing speed in no time. Celeste guided me to the first of the two 45t Blitz’s. Just like Stalker suggested I came in under the massive war machine. As I passed between its legs I targeted the joint between the chest plate and waist. My 20mm PPC burned through the joint under a second. It cored deep into the internal structure of the APS. I wasn’t expecting the blast that fallowed. I must have hit and ignited the storage tank for the Blitz’s Hellfire flamethrower.

Death by fire is not the way I want to die, but when it comes to the enemy. Frack them and the horse they rode in on. As I kicked up onto my feet I was greeted by the first of the Armored Infantry or as we called them THUGS. At 3meters tall these men were the Cheesehead equivalent to our Land Warrior Infantry. The deference is the Cheeseheads were a cheap knockoffs at best. With only half the armor, a third of the firepower, and nowhere near the performance of a Land Warrior Suit.

“WELCOME TO THE RIPPER’S PLAYGROUND MOTHER FRACKERS!” I scream as I plunged my left arm CQC blades into the chest of the man. The Cheesehead spit up blood as his lungs were pierced covering the inside of his faceplate. As I ripped my arm downward the man’s chest I overrode the radio frequency for the Cheeseheads. I don’t know what the reason was, but I started singing at the top of my lungs.

“Please allow me to introduce myself, I'm a man of wealth and taste. I've been around for a long, long years. Stole million man's soul and faith.” I kicked off the ground and leaped to the back of the Lust. I scrambled to the top of the arm shoulder and fired my PPL down through the armor joint. I knew that once I hit the autocannon rounds this bitch would tear itself apart. I hit my jump jets as I felt the first 150mm round explode out the chest.

“And I was 'round when Jesus Christ had his moment of doubt and pain. Made damn sure that Pilate washed his hands and sealed his fate. Pleased to meet you. Hope you guess my name. But what's puzzling you, is the nature of my game.” I sang as I hit the ground and headed for the largest group of THUGS. I was firing my PPC and PPL at random angles trying to force them the keep their heads down.

Not that it worked. The six-man team opened fire with .45 Cal long gatling guns mounted on the underside of their right arms. Against a normal Infantry unit, they would have been deadly. All it did was to piss me off even more. I barely dodged a burst from the Challenger’s Heavy Pulse Plasma Laser. If I had been two meters to the right I would have been dead. I sent a blast from my PPC his way to keep the bastard honest while I dealt with the THUGS. Still, I keep on singing. I wanted to drive the Cheeseheads crazy before killing them.

“I stuck around St. Petersburg. When I saw it was a time for a change. Killed the Tsar and his ministers. Anastasia screamed in vain. I rode a tank, Held a general's rank. When the blitzkrieg raged, and the bodies stank.”

For the first time sense testing I used the full power of my enhanced. I grabbed the first THUG by the head and pulled. I tore his head away from his body along with the helmet I had a hold of. As his teammates stood there in disbelieving shock I drove my fists through the chest plates of two. Killing them both as I smash their hearts. Not thinking I grabbed a fourth by his arm to throw him into his teammate only to rip the arm off. I kept moving and drove my CQC blades through the face plates of the next two men. With all six men dead or dying I turned and hit my jump jets. I had to kill that Challenger now.

“I watched with glee. While your kings and queens fought for ten decades. For the gods they made. I shouted out. Who killed the Kennedys? When after all. It was you and me.” I sang out as I landed on the Challenger’s left arm. Once again I was scrambling up the side of a pissed off 55-ton war machine. This monster had only one weak point and that was where I was heading. As I reached the neck I was peppered with .45 caliber rounds. I looked down and spotted the asshole shooting me. I was surprised that the THUG whose arm I tore off was the one shooting me. I needed his futile attempt to stop me. My PPL burned through his helmet and head.

“Just as every cop is a criminal and all the sinners saints. As heads is tails. Just call me Lucifer. 'Cause I'm in need of some restraint. So, if you meet me. Have some courtesy. Have some sympathy, and some taste. Use all your well-learned politeness or I'll lay your soul to waste, mm yeah.” As I sang out these words I jammed my PPC and PPL into the weak point Father Mike told me about and fired.

I must have set them to rapid fire without thinking. Because no sooner had they recharged they were firing again and again. When the cockpit exploded upwards, and the Challenger’s pilot ejected I tracked his trajectory. Once he hit the apex. I fire my antipersonnel lasers in my right arm. I killed the bastard while he was still in the air and didn’t care.

I dropped to the ground and headed for the last APS in the area. I was flipped by a nearby explosion as I landed. That was when the COBRA OS kicked in. Before I was this controlled, trained killer. That person was gone. In his place was an unstoppable, uncaring, nightmare from lost battlefields of the Empire. I killed the Blitz before it even had a chance to target me. The last of the THUGS fell to my Close Quarters Combat blades. When the last of them died I headed for the six H-N1 Bayonet Armored Personal Carriers. They never saw me coming.

As the last H-N1 exploded from a direct hit by my PPC the COBRA OS disengaged. I fell to my knees in exhaustion. ‘Talk to me Celeste. Are we clear?’

'We’re clear Robert. Now get up and get the frack out of here before their friends show up. We got a twenty-minute window.’

‘Give me a second Celeste. I’ve never felt so drained before. What the FRACK happened back there? I’ve never lost control like that.’ I took a deep breath and tried to center myself. Then looked at the clock on my HUD. ‘Holy shit! Did I really lose it for over twenty minutes?’

‘Yup sure did kid. By the way. We now know what happens when the COBRA OS kicks in on its own. Do me a favor, Robert. Let’s not do that again. I don’t like not being in control of our combat systems.’

‘You don’t like it?! How do you think I feel?! Though I can understand what Maiha meant about the COBRA being an uncontrollable ‘blood rage’. It felt like I could kill and kill. It didn’t matter who they were. Friend or foe. That wasn’t me.’

‘Now you know why the COBRA OS was feared by the original Death Dealers. Also, why they were never told which personnel were implanted with the program. Their own people were often called upon to destroy the Secondary-Configurations at the end of the battle. Just so they would have surviving members of their units.’

‘Shit. I knew that the program was dangerous. Just not the extent.’ I staggered to my feet and looked towards Silver Bluff park. I took a few minutes more before I was back to feeling myself again. ‘Time to pick up the speed. Any word on our unexpected party guests, Celeste?’

‘None so far. From what I can tell they’re busy trying to recover the lost convoy. Good news on that front. Our friends have escaped. They should be reaching the warehouse district in ten minutes.’

‘They should be fine. The crew that jacked that load are dome of the best. They know how to make a cargo shipment disappear into the city.’ I chuckled to myself as I neared the Sliver Bluff subway entrance. Then I spotted a familiar face. “Shouldn’t you be back at the orphanage by now?”

“Had a little run in with two platoons of THUGS. They were waiting for us Ripper. We have a traitor in our group.” Father Mike coughed then spat some blood on the ground. “Not as spray as I used to be.”

I raced over and caught him as he sagged. I could tell that he was wounded but not where. “How did this happen? I thought our armor could stop damned near anything.”

“Bullets, lasers, shrapnel, near miss from a PPC, but a powered kick to the ribs from a three-meter-tall THUG will break ribs. The bastard caught me by surprise.” Father Mike coughed and spat up some more blood. Celeste ran a medical diagnostic scan over the on older Death Dealer. I didn’t like what I was seeing. He was suffering from three broken ribs, a punctured lung, ruptured kidney, and bruised liver. “By now your AI has given you the bad news, boy. I got thirty minutes at most. Do me a favor? Get me back to my orphanage. I want to die where I did the greatest good in my life.”

I knew that moving Father Mike would be deadly but left him over my shoulder. I used every last ounce of strength I had left and carried the man that had become as close to me as my real father. He had guided me through the troubled years of my youth. Made sure I knew right from wrong. He was the one who taught me how to use the skills I learned as a kid to help and protect the smaller kids of the orphanage. How to keep the gangbangers of Whitechapel in line. When, where, and what delivery trucks to hijack. Like he always told me. He’s a Priest not a Saint.

We reached the orphanage with no time to spare. As I set him down in the basement. I knew that he wasn’t long for this world. His bio-armor was already breaking down. In a matter of minutes, the second most powerful influence in my life would die. There wasn’t a damned thing I could do to stop it. With half lidded eyes Father Mike, CAMW-05, Combat Arms Master Warrant Officer, James O’Brian looked up into my own. “It has been an honor serving once last time with a fellow Death Dealer.”

“The honor has been mine, Master Warrant. When you get to the River Styx spit in the bastard’s eye for me.” I closed the old Death Dealer’s eyes one last time. “I’ll be sure to send you some company.”

For the first time since I was a child tears fell from my eyes. Through teeth clenched in burning rage. “I’ll find the traitor Stalker. When I do. I’ll make sure they fracking pay with their very life.”

To drive my point, I drove my armored fist into the basement wall crushing the concrete under the impact. “I shall ring the Bells of Hell with their bones.”

-----tbc-----