Camp York. World Alpha.
It was early in the morning. In the pitch dark night, the only sources of light were the few lamps and torches spread across the camp.
A handful of sentries were scattered across a wooden watchtower. This watchtower was one of a dozen or so of such towers around the perimeter of Camp York. The idea was that if some sort of hostile forces were to sneak onto Camp York under the cover of darkness, these sentries would ring a bell. Other watchtowers, upon hearing the bell tolls, would do the same thing. This way, the entire camp would be woken up in time to face the hostiles.
Some of the watchtowers were also armed with mounted Gauss Machineguns, designed to slow the attackers down. These were the few heavy weaponry the camp of 8,000 survivors had.
This set of defenses was similar to what the UEC Marines did. But what was also similar? The quality of the sentries.
Just like the Marines, the York sentries were engulfed by a false sense of security. If there were Mutated Animals out there, they wouldn't be doing a surprise attack. Their screeches and growls could be heard from leagues away. No one has attacked Camp York at night for months. Why would that change anytime soon?
Perhaps some of the sentries even believed it was ok for them to slack off because the other sentries would do their jobs. When everyone thought like that...troubles arose.
In that particular watchtower, two of the four sentries were taking their sweet naps. Their Defender-Is were put to the side. The other two sentries couldn't sleep. Instead, they were discussing what happened during the day.
"Ya know...I was really jealous of the boys that work for the Mutants." One of the sentries started. "They get the best food! And all the girls were after them first! But guess what? When their Mutant overlords die, they are screwed!"
"Yeah," The other sentry agreed. "I heard Lord Apollo had all the guards of Joker and Victoria declared as traitors and executed! Heard it was brutal! I don't understand. Why wouldn't Lord Apollo let them go?"
"Well, they worked for traitors. Whether they are involved or not, they are traitors as well." The first sentry shrugged. "It's unfair, but I guess that's how things are now."
The second sentry sighed. He looked a bit down. "Do you think...do you think we still have a chance of going back?"
"Back? Back to what?"
"Back to how things were." The man bit his lips. "Back to a time where our biggest fear was a collapsing stock market or an idiot president. Instead of all this...mess."
The first sentry sighed as well. He was nearly 40 years old. He has seen a lot. His fellow sentry, on the other hand, was barely 20. What happened was a bit too much to handle. The first sentry has heard him cry on his bunk multiple times. He was even punished by his commanding officer once for being too soft.
"We will." The older York Trooper promised. "Everything will be fine."
Suddenly, the older sentry frowned and stood up. Distinctly, through the hollowing night wind, he could hear a weird sound. It was a sound he hasn't heard for a while. It was the sound...of engines turning.
His eyes widened. "Incoming…"
That was when three figures came out of nowhere and jumped into the watchtower. The watchtower wasn't finely crafted. It was made of wood, with a wooden board as the ceiling. Anyone could literally jump right into the tower where the sentries were.
The consequence of being in a faction commanded by Mutants who didn't give a damn about their human followers and made no attempt to organize and position them properly.
The older trooper reached for his weapon. Big mistake. The three figures opened fire without hesitation. Within two seconds, the older York Trooper collapsed in a pool of his own blood.
The younger trooper fell right next to him. Two bullet holes in his head.
The three figures slowly walked up to the two sentries asleep. They were wearing Guardian IV armors that were standard for UEC forces. Their Defender-Is were equipped with silencers. Following two gentle pops, the two sentries were slain in their sleep.
In a sense, it was mercy.
One of the figures tapped something in his ear.
"Tower Charlie is secured."
Another dark armored figure walked up to the dying sentry on the ground. He looked up to the one who reported back, who visibly shrugged. That first figure shrugged as well, before pressing his Defender-I right next to the older sentry's forehead and pulling the trigger.
---
When people say information was critical in warfare, they weren't lying.
With the intelligence gathered by the Security Troopers stationed in Camp York, the Airborne Troopers acted fast. One attack chopper was dispatched for every manned watchtower. Fitted with sound suppression modification, these attack choppers sneaked up to the watchtowers under the cover of the night. Airborne Troopers dismounted off their ride straight into the towers and executed anyone inside.
Most of the sentries were deep asleep. The few that weren't were dealt with mercilessly.
A few squads of Camp York patrol occasionally marched across the entrance and the perimeter. They had no idea their brothers in the watchtowers were already gone, and they had no idea they would be next.
A squad of five York Troopers was marching across a watchtower when one figure suddenly walked up to them from behind. That Airborne Trooper, under the cover of the darkness and helped with the howling night wind, grabbed onto the last patrol member and slit his throat with an army knife.
As the body hit the ground, the first four patrol soldiers snapped around, and found themselves facing the muzzle of a Defender-I. Within a short few bursts, two of the four patrols fell dead.
The third patrol snapped around and made a run for it. He made it two steps out before being shot in the back. He opened his mouth, trying to scream, but no sound came out. He could only watch futilely as the Airborne Trooper walked up to him and shot him in the head.
The fourth patrol was already dead on the ground. On one of the watchtowers, an Airborne Trooper sniper reloaded his Defender-III.
"All clear."
These kills wouldn't go unnoticed for too long. Sooner or later, even in the terrible state Camp York was in, someone would realize they were down dozens of men. But the Phasewalkers didn't need to keep this down for days or weeks. They only needed a few hours.
When the eyes and ears of Camp York were gone, Phasewalker Arbiter X gunships were deployed. Dashing past the watchtowers, they went straight for their destinations.
One Arbiter X parked itself above a mansion. This was the house of a Tier 1 Mutant that had two Mutated Arms, each capable of punching through an armored vehicle. The Arbiter X slightly altered its angle.
"Target Tango. Permission to engage."
"Permission granted."
"Engaging!"
Dozens of missiles came out of the Arbiter X's "Terminator" missile-pod and slammed right into the house. By the time the first explosion went off, five more missiles had already been fired. The second explosion was louder than the first, and the third louder than the second. Finally, when the explosion chain finally concluded, the house was completely leveled.
The Arbiter X lowered in altitude as a squad of Airborne Troopers were deployed to the ground through ropes. As they hit the ground, the Phasewalker troopers moved forward and searched through the wreckages. Their weapons and that of the Arbiter X were ready alike, in case the Mutant survived.
This one didn't.
"All clear!" The captain of this Airborne Trooper squad led his men back into the aircraft. "Ask around to see if any of our brothers need help!"
Across the camp, civilians cowered in their homes, praying to whatever god or deity that might exist out there that they wouldn't be caught in the firefight. They didn't know what was going on. Who was attacking or who was being attacked, not that it would help.
After all, they were civilians. Nobodies. The only thing they could do was lower their head and pray for mercy.
Many York Troopers, on the other hand, were sprung into action. Whether to defend their homes or to avoid the wrath of the Mutants when everything was over, they had to act. But as these soldiers, many of whom were in shorts or didn't have a weapon, looked around, they realized they had no idea what was happening.
"What the hell is going on?"
"Are we under attack? Who's attacking us?"
"Oh god! The Mutated Animals! Did they breach the walls?"
"Shut up! Are you stupid? How can the Mutated Animals use explosives?"
"What's our order? Where the bloody hell are the officers?"
"We don't have command! What should we do?"
"Where's General Johnson?"
"He should be in his house, but there are explosions there!"
"Then we should go help! He may be in trouble!"
"Go help him? Are you crazy? Do you hear all the explosions over there? It's a damn warzone there! I still want to live to see another day!"
"Then what do you suggest? Go home and act as if nothing happened? If we do that, Lord Apollo will have our head! I mean...Lord Caleb will have our head!"
Even as these York Troopers were busy talking, the General Johnson they were referring to was in real trouble.
As a mere mortal, General Johnson paid a lot of attention to keeping himself alive. He didn't have the power to control fire or ice, so instead, he kept around himself a band of deadly cutthroats. These people ranged from former mercenaries and UEC military to criminals and thugs. The general armed them with the best weapons he could get his hands on and entrusted his life to them.
This private army of his couldn't keep him alive against any top tier Mutant, but at least it offered a lot more resistance to the Phasewalkers compared to that sorry excuse of a perimeter.
The sound of Gauss Machine guns echoed through the air. In the air, three Arbiter X were forced to take evasive action. Just the Machine guns were fine, but the defenders also found themselves a few rocket launchers. Now that was trouble. The Phasewalkers couldn't afford to risk the dozens of troopers on an Arbiter X to see if the rockets could pierce the plating.
An Arbiter X made a sudden pull to the left, dodging one of the projectiles. The pilot growled and pulled the trigger. Two missiles flew out and smashed into a reinforced bunker. The bunker's firepower froze for a few seconds before starting again, even stronger than before.
Inside one of the Arbiter X, Major Riley, the third commander of the 2nd Airborne, was truly concerned. He knew General Johnson could be one of the more difficult nuts to crack, but even that was an understatement. Johnson must be paranoid or something, because he actually constructed concrete bunkers around his own house! Not only that, he had these bunkers posed as ordinary buildings and hidden from view! Who does that?
Moving in from the air was impossible. Even if the Arbiter X could unload the forces inside, Major Riley wouldn't throw away the lives of precious elite Airborne Troopers in front of the bunker walls and Gauss Machine gun lines until he absolutely had to. They were too valuable to be discarded like this,
Given the time, the Arbiter Xs could eventually handle the defenses, but time wasn't on the Phasewalkers' side. There were thousands of York Troopers in the camp. If General Johnson was left alive long enough to issue commands and rally the resistance, the casualties for the Phasewalkers could be a lot greater.
Finally, he made a decision.
"Major Olsen, this is Major Riley. Where is the 3rd Artillery? Only a small detachment is outside the camp on standby? Alright, I need fire support on Objective Zebra. Yes...yes, it's the house of General Johnson. I want you to blow it up."
When the call was done, he turned back to the pilot. "Pull back for a moment. we've got payloads incoming."
The three Arbiter-X turned around and disengaged from the defenses. Just as the defenders were cheering in victory, countless artillery shells came crashing down on the concrete bunkers. Bunker buster shells pierced the bunker walls. Incendiary rounds burned alive anyone still in the designated perimeter, civilians and defenders alike.
When the explosions quieted down, the Arbiter X dove in once again. This time, there was no one left to fight back.