The broad groan of warning sirens blanketed the capitol of Mandelovia, moaning with an eeiry rhythym to the glow of entire city blocks ablaze. The skies...that dark dusk-blue made famous by movies...held streaming columns of thick, black smoke, even as a dozen spotlights arched back and forth along the clouds.
Hundreds of the Nibru's attack fighters flooded overhead, swarming in a perimeter of the Mandelovian Palace; their silver, disc-shaped forms glinting against the strobe of war.
The population had already begun to take cover in the reinforced, underground bunkers lining the entire city. Still, a few stragglers ran for their lives, as concrete and fire sprayed the air around them.
"Take cover! What the hell are you doing out here?!" Baxter yelled, two Mandelovian teenagers running past him, headed for the bunkers.
The M4 shook violently in his steely grip, ninety percent of his fire missing its' mark. Twin beams of a hazy blue nature sizzled past his left ear...
"What the hell am I doing out here....jaysis criste'!!" he remarked, immediately diving for cover.
He planted his back firmly against an upturned chunk of asphalt, panting from the adrenaline.
"...fuck....fuck....fuck..." he intoned to himself, another explosion erupting just on the other side of the makeshift barrier.
A drizzle of debris rained down on him, his face straining from the ringing in his ears. He struggled with the rifle, scrambling to to get a new clip loaded. More shots burned overhead, the firefight between the Vanguard members and the attacking militia, growing by the moment.
"Oh GOBDAMMIT!!" Ozzy yelled, slamming the useless rifle into the ground with fit of frustration.
"VELO...FALL BACK WITH ME!!" Chance yelled above the firefight, strafing past a burning chunk of one of the attacking disc-ships. "PRIEST...MOVE INTO A FORWARD POSITION! I WANT THE EASTERN ESTATE FORTIFIED!!"
He leapt back behind a still standing portion of the outer Palace wall. He paused, reloading his guns. Then, with one single motion, glanced around the wall and back again.
"...forty-two on the left..." he mumbled, recalibrating his left gun, "...seventy-six on the right..."
He tweaked his right gun in a similiar fashion. He glanced back up, peering out over the interior of the estate, just in time to see the blur of a man tackle Brianna from the air.
"PHIL...GET THAT BASTARD OFF BANSHEE!! he yelled over the comm.
Then, with dual clicks from his guns, jerked around the wall, opening a line of precision fire.
Jerking back, he began re-modifying his guns.
"...thirty-five on the left..." he began again. "...sixty-nine on the right..."
He shook his head, as a strange smile came over his face.
"...dammit..." he mumbled. "...who would have ever thought that I would actually miss Bell..."
Across the carnage of the area, Ozzy was knelt, bowed over, fists bracing him against the cold, rough concrete. The din of chaos increased around him...
He was exhausted. He hadn't slept in almost two days.
He could hear Schanz...barking orders...
He was hungry. He hadn't eaten in almost three months.
His fists began tapping the ground. Slowly, at first...
"...okay...okay...ninth round..." he murmed to himself, his fists increasing their rhythym against the concrete. "...no sweat..."
His fists beat harder and harder, as he began taking deep pants...
"...you can do this..." he continued, psyching himself up. "...you can do this..."
...the pavement began to lightly crack under his pounding knuckles...
"...you held the belt..." he said. "...you're the three-time champion..."
He leapt to his feet, eyes fiery with an adrenaline-pumped flare.
"...and you're gobdamn indestructible..."
Leaping into a sprint, Ozzy headed straight for the nearest Strikeforce perimeter.
Hails of bullets began to shred his silk shirt, another annoyance to fuel his anger. More fire began to focus on him, as he ran closer and closer to the barricaded perimeter. Coherent beams of fusion-blue energy crackled against his impervious body. His clothes burst into flames, the fiery licks trailing his speeding form.
And, as he closed in on them, Ozzy let loose a yell of pure defiance....
...or was it fear?
With the equivalent impact pressure of a titanium bat moving at twenty-miles-an-hour, human flesh was little resistance to his deadly fists.
The soldier's neck snapped clean, as Baxter landed a smooth right-cross. He ducked and swerved, with an inherent smooth grace, avoiding another soldier's tackle. Planting an iron-hard elbow into the man's spinal cord, Baxter side-stepped, and rammed another soldier's nasal cavity straight into his brain.
Ozzy turned, taking down another with a bone-crushing blow, just in time to come face-to-face with the business-end of a shoulder-launcher.
The explosion roared, killing the gunman, even as a half-naked Ozzy flew close to fifteen feet from the impact. His body slammed into one of the Royal transports, embedding him in the side of the crumpling steel.
Even as Baxter struggled to free himself from the metallic embrace, another dozen soldiers entered the fray.
They had barely made it near Oz's position, when gunfire erupted, cutting them down from both sides.
The metal covering one-half of his face, Baxter's free eye could make out Priest and Shanz, securing the position.
A contigent of the soldiers began withdrawing, as a Mastiff entered the area...
Chance leaned down, peering at Baxter's lodged form.
"...'A' for effort, newbie..." he half smiled, as Priest began cutting Ozzy out of the metal.
