Out of Space
Chapter 343: Sacrifices

Norshelm, Two Blocks away from Crash Site

Specialist Corporal Hitsu peered over the corner, seeing a throng of half naked crazies armed with sticks and stones yelling and screaming something down the street. He raised a clenched fist and the rest of Claymore One paused behind him as he observed the large crowd.

"Too many of them," said Hitsu as he leaned back. "At least fifty or so, right down the street."

"Any other way past them?" Tyrier asked.

"I don't see any other way," Hitsu replied and he gestured to the other side of the street. "The crash site is just down there, about another street or two and we should be able to see it."

Tyrier nodded, the sounds of gunfire coming from the crash site had lessened and he worried that if they don't move fast, there will be no one left to rescue. "Drop smoke and charge across. Keep moving!"

Hitsu nodded and he plucked out a smoke grenade from his vest and tossed it to the middle of the cobblestone street. Seconds later, the smoke grenade hissed loudly and started spewing a cloud of thick foul smelling white smoke which covered the street.

"GO!" Tyrier commanded and the men sprint across, ignoring the smell and pushed forward as fast as they could.

Hitsu briefly saw through the cloud of smoke at the crowd of crazies were undergoing some kind of orgy before the smoke obstructed his view. The smoke had gathered a few of the more curious crazed townspeople to investigate but by the time they got there, Claymore One had disappeared.

"CONTACT LEFT!" yelled Hitsu as suddenly a group of crazies appeared out from a side alley to their left. The crazed people gave a cheer and rushed towards Claymore One which responded by shooting them down.

A body taken down by a point blank shot crashed into Hitsu, sending him sprawling on his back. He recovered and shot another laughing crazy who held a butter knife poised to stab downwards at him.

Another crazy appeared behind the dying man and Hitsu froze. A little girl with a smile on her face, her tail tied in twin ponytails and a yellow dress dragged a hatchet almost her height behind her. She gave a bright toothy smile as she tried to swing the heavy ax at Hitsu who hesitated at firing at a little girl. "Fark!"

"HITSU!" Tyrier yelled. "WHAT THE FARK??"

Jolted awake by his Sergeant yell, Hitsu closed his eyes and fired his rifle. He could hear the bullet fleshly slap on the girl's body before he opened his eyes, seeing the girl with the smile still on her face as she laid dying, her mouth moving as she tried to speak her last words out.

"Th...e Miss... tess... re..waardss..."

-----

Norshelm, Crash Site

Drake felt he was totally in the zone, as every shot he made, he dropped one of the crazies. He was like an automaton killing machine, nothing could get past his line of defense. Bodies piled up around his killing zone and even the crazies hesitated to cross that zone after witnessing how many had died.

Drake never felt so calm in his life, even when fighting against the Swarm. He did not even felt sadness nor anger when Kont died, only that if he must kill as much as of these mother fucking crazies as possible to allow the Convoy to arrive.

A bolt of arcane missile suddenly slammed and hit his right arm, knocking him back. He switched his M2 to his left hand and continued to fight when another Wind Blade spell slashed into his chest, breaking his rifle and the trauma plating of his armor vest.

The force knocked the air off his lungs and he fell back gasping for air. The crazies sensing blood rushed in and found Drake laying on his back. Drake on seeing the crazies rushing into the building ignored his wounds and painfully drew his revolver out and fired, knocking back the crazies who crowded around the entrance.

When his revolver ran dry, the crazies flowed into the building, using their sticks and stones to hammer at the limp body till blood stained the entire place. Drake's last thoughts were of the laughter of the red eyed silver haired witch before darkness and pain claimed him.

-----

Peter fired at another crazy who found a way in by the back. He worked the pump, jacking in another shell when he heard a collective cheer coming from the front. "Shit! Greg! They are coming in from the front!"

Greg broke open his double barrel and shoved in the shells before he yelped, "Crazies no kill me! I kill crazies!"

He grabbed a long knife from somewhere and ran towards the front of the building, firing both barrels at the crowd that was mutilating the dead marine. The spray of buckshot tore up the crowd and the crazies fell back in surprise at seeing a goblin appearing.

Greg slashed at their legs and bellies with the long knife and ran between their legs as they tried to hit him. Soon the whole crowd was in chaos as they chased and tried to kill the slippery goblin. Unfortunately, due to Greg's leg wound, he faltered and a blade caught him at his back, making Greg curse.

It was followed by another blow to his side and soon dozens of blows rained on him and he fell. But Greg gave out a final defiant giggle, "You dumb crazies! Greg no die alone! You all coming with Greg!"

He twisted out the pins from the two grenades he had stolen from the Marines as a joke many weeks ago, and triumphantly show them to the crowd who continued to attack Greg with a fervent. The grenades went off while Greg gave the crowd his broken middle finger and the whole room burst into blood and flames.

The shockwave from the sudden explosive knocked Peter off his perch. He cried out in pain as his eardrums ringed loudly and as he recovered, he saw a figure standing over him before he knew it, he felt a sharp pain om his head and everything went dark.

-----

Norshelm, One Street away from Crash Site

"Go!" Tyrier ordered and his men frog leap to the other side of the street. He frowned as the sounds of gunfire has died off and he urged his men to move faster. "Nearly there!"

They entered the debris littered fountain square that was literally filled with bodies. Even the fountain was squirting crimson liquid out from the decorative water feature. A dozen crazies were still loitering around the crashed helo as the soldiers of Claymore One spread out. "All stations, Claymore One, we have entered the crash site, over."

"-mmand, roge-"

"-x T-, rog-"

"Convoy, -oger!"

Tyrier chopped his hand down sharply and the special ops troops fired their suppressed weapons, taking down those still standing. He pointed two fingers to the right before doing the same for the left and the squads split up to sides.

They swept through the square and only found dead bodies and any still alive were taken out silently. "Sarge!" Loke called out as he kneed over something. He lifted up a bloodied Mark 1 helmet and said, "Found of one ours... or what was remained of him..."

Tyrier came up and saw an unrecognized body, the crazies appeared to have ripped his flesh and skin away, even his genitals were mutilated and cut off, shoved into the toothless mouth of the Marine.

He went down on one knee and removed his helmet before he pulled off the dog tags caked in blood. "May the Gods watch over your soul in the Gates of Heaven, for a great soldier has fallen."

Tyrier stood up and gestured towards the wreckage, "Let's go, we bury him later if we have the chance."

The members of Claymore One nodded solemnly and they headed into the wreck. They found two dead Marine gunners crushed under the rubble and the co pilot similarly dead. Another group of crazies was having an orgy right inside the wrecked hull and the soldiers dispatched them quickly with disgust.

Finding an opening that led into the ruined building, they found another dead Marine inside, his eagle spread body staked against a wooden column, similarily mutilated and castrated.

"Get him down!" Tyrier hissed. "The rest check the building!"

"Sarge, found another of ours..." Altied called out as he carefully picked up a roundish shape from the bloodied mess in the room. "Its Greg..."

Tyrier saw Altied holding to the severed head of the cheeky goblin, his eyes were put out and his skulk deformed from the blows to his head. "Find his dog tags..."

"Sarge, building is cleared," Hitsu came over and in his hand was a pilot's helmet and shotgun. "Found these at the back, lots of blood but no body, our pilot is missing."

"Search around these... bodies here..." Tyrier gestured to the body filled room. "If they killed him he must be somewhere here, if not... then they must have taken him somewhere!"

The men nodded and did the grim job of searching the dead, while Tyrier radioed back to Command. "Command, command, this is Claymore One Actual, crash site secured, no survivors. Over."

"-mmand, confirm no survi-"

"Claymore One Actual, six KIA, one MIA, over."

"-man- -ger, s- KIA and one MI-."

One by one the bodies were laid out onto the square, except for the pilot and two Marine gunners that were underneath the rubble. In Tyrier's hand, he held a bunch of dog tags coated with blood. "Grab whatever is useful and burn everything."

Soon billows of black smoke erupted from the wreckage as the soldiers set off thermite grenades to melt the fuselage and other sensitive portions of the crashed helo as well as burning the bodies of their own. The men gave a salute at the makeshift funeral before they left the square of the dead.

"Let's go, we will meet up with the convoy at the Citadel!" Tyrier said as he took a last look at the burning pyre.

-----

Norshelm, Four Blocks away from Crash Site

"FUCK!" Mills quickly slapped his scorched hands as a molotov cocktail smashed against the side of his jeep, its burning contents splashed over the turret and dripped onto his arm. He barely recovered from that when another molotov cocktail hit the front of the Jeep, causing the driver to swerve and impact against the side of another building the second time.

Almost instantly, magic spells, rocks, and arrows rained all over the stalled convoy. The gunners kept their fire up till the barrels of the .50 cal guns turn cherry red. "SAAARGGEee!" The driver cried out and Mills dropped down from the turret to see what was the problem.

He found the driver moaning at the steering wheel, while the armored sapphire windscreen had several fist sized holes. Blood was dripped down from dozens of cuts on the driver's face. "Saaargee... I... can't see..."

"Wait," Mills climbed to the front and took out his canteen of water to wash the blood off the face of his driver. "How is it now?"

"My eyes hurt..." The driver blinked his eyes rapidly. "I can somehow see... but it farking hurts..."

"Don't rub your face!" Mills grabbed the driver's hands as he reached to touch his own face. "You got glass all over your face... you will make it worse if you touch them!"

The driver nodded and moaned as he laid back on the seat. Mills cursed as he climbed back up to the turret and saw the whole convoy in shambles. Smoke and flames from molotov cocktails and spells blasts covered the vehicles.

He noticed two of the vehicles no longer has any gunners manning the turrets and he sighed, knowing they had been defeated by the city.

"Command, this is Raider Actual, Convoy unable to advance anymore. We have too many wounded and low on ammo," Mills reported. "We are unable to complete the mission anymore."

"Requesting to return to base to regroup and resupply."