Turning tides

Roark sat in the trench unmoving as he stared down at the corpse of the young man. His heart raced thumping painfully in his chest. A stabbing pain shot through his chest every passing moment. Explosions went off nearby, sending dirt, bloody mud, and shrapnel onto his armor but he remained still. It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault. I did the right thing. I couldn’t have known he would have done that, Roark thought to himself. Putting his hand in the dirt he began to push himself up when Nestor’s words echoed in his head. Every man you let live has the chance of coming back to kill you.

The memory rang in his head before he slumped back down into the mud once more. Around him the fighting continued, men in the trench beside him giving it their all in a constant back and forth. Not far from Roark Nestor hopped into a trench followed by a few of his men, all of them carrying large metal crates. Dropping them into the mud the men swiftly began to unpack the items from their crates until each and everyone had a shoulder mounted missile launcher ready to fire.

Nestor walked down his line of men, “They’ll begin moving the tanks in just a moment! We have to take out those turrets!” Looking over the trench Nestor counted them in his head and noticed three had already been destroyed. There are seven remaining turrets as far as I can see, the Ignis canons are too large for us to take out with these things but the tanks can handle that. Once they’re close enough to those with their grapple hooks, the siege ladders won’t be necessary if we can just go over the wall. Maybe if we’re lucky some bombers can break through the blockade, Nestor thought to himself. 

“Ready men?” Nestor yelled out.

“Sir yes sir!” They all sounded off as they aimed their missiles towards the turrets. A few hundred feet behind them. The tanks that had been stuck in the mud burst to life, their engines roaring as they pushed to get themselves free. Some soldiers in their Thorakai stood on either side of them lifting to help pull them out of the mud. After a long minute of struggling several tanks were free from the mud.

Twelve tanks began to roll forward toward the facility. Their treads rattled as they moved extremely fast toward the Hephaisteion. Seeing them approaching their trench Nestor nodded at his men.

“Fire!” At his command, the soldiers fired off their missile launchers towards the turrets. Flying through the sky the missiles twirled through the air before colliding with their targets. Explosions erupted around the front of the facility, several of the missiles hitting their target while others hit the wall of the Hephaisteion.

As the dust cleared, four turrets continued their firing, “Shit!” Nestor yelled out just before the tanks rolled over their trenc,h closing in. On the back of the armored vehicles, a few men huddled together,er waiting for their moment to deploy.

Getting closer the twelve tanks began to receive heavy damage from the turrets and rockets that their enemies began to fire upon them. Explosions combusted nearby the tanks as they approached at full speed. The barrels of the tanks jutted up from the recoil of firing their shells at the facilities.

Soaring through the skies in the blink of a second their shells collided with turrets, enemy soldiers, Ignis canons, the facility's main buildings, and everything in their direction. Shell after shell firing just moments apart led to the facility being peppered with explosions. At full speed, they were within range and right on the facility’s doorsteps.

Soldiers with their grappling hooks attached to their arms leaped from their positions off of the tanks. The hooks shot forward a hundred feet before retracting, their hooks stabbed into the metal walls securely. With their hands, they retracted the hook by pointing their middle and pointer fingers together and after a soft click locked the mechanism into place, they pulled back the two fingers, causing another click, fully activating the mechanism and pulling them towards the hook. In all, they could do it in less than a second.

Whipping them forward, the platoon of men swung in the air, hooking onto the ledge and throwing themselves up above the wall. Swinging up, one of the Romans carried the momentum as he fell, unsheathing his blade and stabbing one of the Germanics before landing atop the wall. With a grapple on each arm, they achieved something close to fighting swinging around and using their pistols, submachine guns, and arm mouted weapons to wreak havoc on the Germanics defending the wall.

Swinging off nearby structures, the Harpax soldiers skimmed the ground and sides of the walls. Being weighed down by such heavy armor didn’t allow for the best control over their suit, but using their momentum and the strength in their armor, they almost glided gracefully through the air. More akin to angels of death than mere men in armor.

In the skies above the Hephaisteion, a transport ship fell out of the clouds towards it. The massive ship had long wings and a thick, rounded body, one for troop transport specifically. The ramp of the flying ship opened up, its back wide open. Out from it, soldiers leaped head first to begin their descent into the battlefield.

A few hundred feet above the facility, the men reached for the large metal rings on their upper chests. Tugging on the rings, they pulled until large parachutes popped out of the back of their armor. Peppered across the sky, the parachutes could be seen rapidly descending. The Thorakai’s heavy weight stopped any chance of a parachute being nearly enough.

On the ground, the Germanics began to fire up at both the paratroopers and those maneuvering through the air with their grappling hooks. One soldier hooked onto a nearby structure as he was trying to move away from the wall. Trying to retract the hook he heard a loud clinking sound before he was whipped back by the malfunctioning hook. Slamming into the metal structure, he groaned, shaking his arm uselessly. Moments later, he was silenced by a torrent of bullets that tore through his armor.

Hooking past him, several men had a similar fate as grappling into walls that were reinforced led to them falling to their deaths. Some hooks stuck to whatever they had grappled and left the men hanging to die.

Distinguished from the rest were those with a symbol on the back of their armor of two folded eagle wings colored red and black. The black for the death they would inflict upon the enemy from above and the red for their allegiance to their empire.

Swinging around, they used their hooks as weapons themselves, grappling onto enemy soldiers while firing at them. Several Faced a similar problem to the rest of their hooks, being too effective and getting stuck in whatever they had hooked onto, but since their hooks were attached to their weapons, they could discard them and escape.

 The biggest difference between the specialized units and the soldiers with simple grapple hooks was their added ability. The specialized armor had extra pathways on the outside of the armor well as canisters attached to it. The men with that equipment were known as Harpaxians who used their Harpax equipment for special missions.

Flying through the air, gas shot from the device across their back and waist, helping to direct them and achieve a greater sense of maneuverability within the air. Whipping around, one soldier adorned in black armor with green paint across his back and chest unsheathed his gladii from their sheaths before slashing an approaching Germanic. Whipping and grappling, he beheaded another before using the specialized steam mechanism to push himself forward midair. Twirling in the air, he flew down, embedding his swords into one of the Germanics on the wall.

The falling paratroopers were falling toward the ground at speeds that would shatter the bones within their bodies if they landed. A hundred feet above the ground, small thrusters hidden in the thighs and calves of the armor popped out. The small thrusters activated helping to break the fall as they slowed the landing even more. The paratroopers crashed into the ground, nearby structures, and the wall.

On the structures and walls, the metal beneath them would bend and leave deep dents, on the ground mud was kicked up dirtying the armor and anything nearby. Some of the troopers who landed on the facility's structures broke through the roofs, crashing into where they had landed. Regardless of where each soldier fell, a booming sound followed them, as well as the sound of the Thorakai’s legs creaking and buckling under pressure.

Nestor and his men caught up tanks at the gates of the walls and continued to fire upon the facility. The thundering booms could be heard from miles away as they battered the walls of the facility, trying to get over it. Once the wall of the facility fell, the majority of the Romans would have the opportunity to overwhelm the Germanics. The facility was surrounded on all sides by Romans exchanging fire with the defenders of the walls who held strong.

Hoping into the closest trench to recuperate with his men, Nestor gazed upon Roark, whose head had slumped, “Dammit, not you too.” He groaned, putting his hand over the front of his helmet. Roark heard the voice of his oldest ally, raising his head. Nestor startled and stepped back before looking to see what Roark had been staring at. His eyes darkened as he gazed down at the dead man. Slowly, he knelt in front of Roark, “Roark, get up. This isn’t over, if we don’t take the facility his death will have been for nothing. You know that.”

Roarks head slowly turned to look at Nestor. He’s right. I know he’s right. He was right about them, and he’s right about this, Roark thought to himself but didn’t move. Nestor shook his head, looking around before he heard a piercing scream. From the wall, a screaming man tumbled down into the mud below. The soldier writhed in the cold mud as he screamed and tore at his armor, trying to pull off the armor plating to escape the pain.

After a few agonizing moments, he slumped on the ground dead. It can’t be, Nestor thought as from the top of the wall, a green mist crawled over and down towards him like a wave. Spreading across the ground and on the walls of the facility, the gas spread around the front of the wall. The zipping sounds of the soldiers using their Harpax equipment faded away from earshot as everybody began to run away from the toxic cloud of gas.

“Scatter! If it gets in your helmet, you're dead!” Nestor yelled before grabbing Roark and lifting him, “Let's go!” He screamed into his face, pulling him away. The two leaped out of the trench as the green gas crept over the corpses within the trench.

Zipping away, those with Haprax equipment escaped, either out or deeper into the facility. On every wall of the facility, soldiers climbed to the top, soldiers with helmets like gas masks and armor with no crevices to let in gas. With large tanks on their backs and weapons that sprayed out the gas on their masks, they spread the gas. With that on all sides of the facilities, gas poured out onto the enemy, driving them back.

Far up above them, a figure watched from the top floor of the facility, the dark figure of Pankraz stared down at the retaliating strike he had ordered, “It’s going to work. Our walls will hold. our men will hold the line,n and we’ll turn the tide of this entire war.” Pankraz said to himself. Behind him, one of the two doors that were connected to the room opened.

“War Chief Pankraz, the final preparations are nearly complete we only need a little more time.”

Pankraz turned to look out at the man adorned in a white laboratory coat, “We’re running out of time…prepare for a first strike on the enemy.” The man nodded before turning to return to the room he had come from.