Operation Jailbreak

"A lone Tango, fifty meters out," Bard murmured, his gaze fixed on the solitary enemy figure ahead. We were still outside the base's main perimeter.

"Roger that, Bard," Cutter answered. "Take him out. Close range."

"Got it," Bard confirmed with a nod. Drawing his bayonet from its sheath, he moved like a shadow, closing in behind the enemy soldier. The man was so engrossed in cleaning his rifle barrel that he remained completely oblivious to the approaching threat. Bard waited with cold patience for the perfect moment, then drew the blade across the man's throat in one swift, silent motion.

The operator dropped the body and gave us a thumbs-up.

"Go, go, go!"

Cutter and I broke from cover, hurrying toward the closest building, a tavern. We paused at the entrance while Bard peered inside.

"More than ten foot soldiers," he reported, his voice low. "Swords are all sheathed. They're drinking beer." From within, we could hear coarse, rumbling laughter. "Oh, and I see about twenty martinis on the bar," he added, his attempt at a joke falling flat in the tense air.

"You can have your martinis later, Yank," Cutter said with a gruff laugh. He cracked his knuckles, a series of sharp pops in the quiet. "Arc, hold my rifle," he instructed, handing me his G36C. "Don't try this at home, kids."

With the nonchalant demeanor of a weary drunk, he sauntered into the tavern.

I watched him approach the soldiers. "Good night, lads!" he greeted them cheerfully. The men, deep in their cups, barely registered his presence as a threat. That was their final mistake. In a blur of motion, Cutter grabbed two of them, slamming their skulls together against the heavy oak table with a sickening crack. He seized a bottle of liquor, smashed it over another man's head, and used the jagged shards to stab a fourth. The remaining soldiers, stunned and helpless, were met with a vicious barrage of punches and kicks. To any outside observer, it was just another brutal bar fight.

My eyes caught the glint of steel as two of the more sober warriors began to draw their blades. I charged in, swinging my rifle's buttstock like a club into the first man. The force of the strike sent his limp body flying against the distant wall. I drove a knee into the second man's gut, head-butted him into submission, and finished him with a hard punch to the temple.

I looked over as Cutter finished the brief, bloody altercation by smashing a chair over the last standing adversary. He picked up a mug of beer from a table and flashed me a grin.

"Nice one, Yamato," he said, before taking a deep draught. "Come on, have one!"

"No, sir," I declined firmly. "I don't drink on a mission."

From the kitchen doorway, I saw the cook, a platter of bread clutched in one hand, raise his other in surrender.

"Hey, you! Get over here! Move!" Bard yelled, leveling his weapon at him.

The cook shuffled toward us, his face pale. "Y-you appear to be hungry," he stammered. "Please... h-have a seat. I'll prepare some food for you."

Cutter drained his mug and set it down with a thud. "Get us some scones and tea, then."

As we checked our ammunition, I glanced at Cutter. "If he's telling the truth, the warehouse is nearby, isn't it?"

"Yes, but how do we know he isn't lying?" Bard questioned.

Peeking out from the tavern's shattered window, Cutter surveyed the area. "From what I can tell, he has no reason to lie," he concluded. "The rebels only paid him to cook." He turned his gaze to Bard. "Alright, Bard, you know the plan?"

"You got it, sir!" he confirmed, before speeding off in the direction of the warehouse.

"You know, Cutter," I said, "Noah is just as courageous now as he was in high school."

Cutter chuckled. "Yeah, all balls, no brain." His smile vanished as quickly as it appeared, his expression hardening back into a mask of grim determination. "Stay close to me," he ordered. I fell in behind him, covering his back as we moved out into the open.

The FOB was teeming with hostiles, forcing us to maneuver carefully to avoid being compromised. We finally came to a halt at the mouth of an alley that led to our objective: the prisons. Cutter gestured toward a nearby structure where rebels were dragging several individuals.

"That building must be the place," he muttered.

I saw them bring a young lupine woman who bore a striking resemblance to Cera into the courtyard. "Is that—"

One of the rebels shoved the woman into a group of soldiers. "Guys, check this out!" he crowed to his comrades.

"Whoa! Look at those tits, man! Are all lupines like this?" someone jeered, followed by a wave of lewd laughter.

"Cheeky bastards…" Cutter swore under his breath. A low growl rumbled in his chest. His knuckles were white where he gripped his G36C, the plastic creaking under the strain. He took a deep, steadying breath. "Let's move! The faster we act, the sooner we can save that woman."

I gave a sharp nod, and we moved toward the building.

"P-please… don't do this to me!" the woman pleaded. I was certain it was Cera's mother. I fought to ignore her desperate cries, my focus locked on the mission as we walked on in silence. The sound of tearing fabric ripped through the air.

"Kyaah!" the woman shrieked.

"MOM!" Cera's scream, raw and terrified, echoed across the courtyard, instantly alerting the rebels.

"Who's there?" a rebel shouted, as two of them broke away from the group to investigate the sound.

"Shite!" Cutter swore. "Bard! Do it now!" he yelled into his comms.

"I'm on it!" Bard's voice crackled back. A few seconds later...

A series of deafening explosions tore through the base. Five-kilo C4 charges, laced with black powder, erupted in geysers of fire and debris, sending chunks of buildings spiraling into the sky.

From the ensuing chaos, Morwenna leaped from concealment, her blade a silver arc that cut the two searchers in half. The other knights followed close behind, a wave of steel and fury eliminating any adversary that stood in their path.

The battle had begun, a brutal clash of hand-to-hand combat. It was a strange sight for me; firearms had long since supplanted blades in my world. The rebels, caught completely off guard and disoriented by the explosions, were left defenseless.

"Remove your suppressor," Cutter ordered, already twisting his own off. I nodded and did the same. "All set?"

"Roger."

"GO!"

He burst from cover, greeting an approaching platoon of foot soldiers with a nearly blinding spray of rifle fire.

"Hehehehe! Get some, you bloody scum!" he roared, laughing like a madman. A crazed SPG commando reborn, he dropped the opponents one by one with disciplined bursts of 5.56mm rounds. "Arc! Go!" he shouted, launching a grenade from his under-barrel attachment that sent several attackers flying through the air.

I dashed toward the yard, my weapon up, and dropped two rebels with two precise shots.

I saw Morwenna engaging several enemy soldiers by herself, yet she seemed completely untouched. As one soldier tried to flank her for a backstab, I quickly put two rounds into his chest. She glanced in my direction. I gave her a thumbs-up, and she simply nodded before returning to the fray.

"HRAAAGGH!" An enemy soldier lunged at me, his sword aimed to kill. I dove under the attack, came up, and smashed the buttstock of my rifle into his head. As he collapsed and struggled to rise, I ended his life with a clean headshot.

"Kyaaa!" To my left, I saw that one of the adversaries, who appeared to be their commander, was holding Cera's mother hostage, the edge of his blade pressed against her throat. "N-no, don't hurt me…"

I advanced cautiously, my rifle half-raised. He pulled her tighter. "Drop your weapon, or I will—"

Before he could finish his threat, I fired a single shot through the gap between the lupine woman's legs, shattering his knee. As he crumpled, a second bullet pierced his skull.

"Are you okay, ma'am?" I asked, kneeling in front of the woman, who had fallen to the ground in shock.

"Y-yes," she responded, her voice trembling with fear and relief. "T-thank you."

"Hey, lassie!" Cutter yelled to one of the Protectors. She dispatched another foe before running toward us. "Keep this woman and the others safe. Get them well away from the fighting."

"Yes, sir," she replied, helping Cera's mother to her feet. "Ma'am, this way. We'll get you to safety."

"Please, save my husband," she pleaded. "He's still being held with the other prisoners."

"I understand, ma'am," Cutter responded. "We'll get it done." He tapped my shoulder, and we sprinted toward the building we'd identified as the prison.

I placed a breaching charge on the door and hit the detonator. The charge blew the door off its hinges, sending several enemy fighters on the other side flying. As I raised my rifle, the world seemed to slow to a crawl. I fired a few rounds, dropping a rebel who was passing a spear to another, then put three more into the receiver's chest. When a soldier charged me with a knife, I disabled him with three quick rounds to the torso.

Cutter followed me into the room, unleashing a long burst that killed five enemy soldiers standing near the weapons cage. The final soldier stood in a corner, his back to a cage full of inmates, his sword aimed at us.

"It's over, mate. Drop your weapon!" Cutter commanded.

Before the rebel could respond, a blade erupted from his chest in a spray of blood. He let out a choked, agonized cry. I watched as one of the inmates pulled the rebel's own sword back through his body. I moved to the cage and, using a key I found on the dead rebel, unlocked it.

"Come on, hurry up!" Cutter urged as I worked the primary lock. I swung the doors open and began releasing the inmates one by one.

"Hey, stranger!" a voice called out. I turned to see the prisoner who had killed the rebel. "I appreciate you saving me. But I have to find my wife. The son of a bitch dragged her out."

"You're with me, sir!" Cutter told him. He then looked at me. "Arc, you look after the remaining inmates! I'll send Bard to support you."

"Roger that!" I said, moving to the final cage.

"Bard, this is Cutter! Get over to checkpoint Bravo and assist Arc!" I heard Cutter's voice on the radio.

"Copy that! Bard is Oscar Mike! ETA thirty seconds, out," Bard replied. I raised my rifle, preparing for any hostiles inside the last cage.

But what I found were three young women, shackled by their hands and legs, with little to no clothing. Their bodies were covered in bruises and welts. I had seen battlefields. I had taken lives myself. This was different. I have zero tolerance for enemy combatants, but I never imagined people could be this vicious. No, these were not 'human'. They were SOBs.

I unlocked the door and went to them. The women opened their eyes, looking up at me. Using my pliers, I broke them out of their chains.

"Who… are you?" one of them asked. Her hair was long, golden, and curly. In her grey eyes, I saw a flat, despairing stare, but beneath it was the unmistakable look of a warrior, someone who had known the battlefield. Her eyes looked like mine.

"Lieutenant Arc, G.A.I.A. Squad," I said, extending my hand. "Ma'am, I'm getting you out of here." She took it hesitantly, and I helped her to her feet. "Are you one of the Shieldmaidens?"

"Yes," she whispered. "I was. After… after being captured… and abused by the rebels… I… I don't think I can be a Shieldmaiden anymore…" Tears welled in her eyes. "…my pride… is gone…"

"No, it's not," I stated firmly.

"You don't understand... We're called the 'Shieldmaiden Legion' because—"

I cut her off. "As long as you still have the will to fight and are ready to sacrifice for your country, you still have your pride." I took a leather cloak and draped it over her shoulders. I picked up the sword of a fallen rebel and pressed it into her hand. "Don't think about anything else right now. Your commander didn't come all this way to hear you give up! She would be proud of you."

Her eyes widened. "W-what? The Princess?!"

I nodded. "Of course. She's one hell of a leader, isn't she?" I offered a small smile.

I glanced at the other captive Shieldmaidens. "You as well! Pick up your weapons, soldiers, and serve your country." They all nodded, their spirits rekindled, and began scavenging for whatever clothing and weapons they could find.

"By the way," I said to the first Shieldmaiden, "I didn't get your name."

"It is Isolda. Isolda Orville, second daughter of Duke Perlan Orville," she stated, her voice stronger now. "Thank you for saving us, Lieutenant Arc!"

"Save your thanks for later," I replied, turning away. "There's still work to be done." At that moment, two gunshots echoed from the doorway, and an enemy soldier who'd been thrown inside the prison collapsed. I saw Bard peek in.

"Sorry I'm late," he said with his characteristic grin. "A few bastards were in my way." I nodded and tapped his shoulder.

"Cover our six!" I told him, before marching out of the prison, ready to cut down any rebel in our path. The newly freed Shieldmaidens followed close behind, with Bard covering their rear.

A thought struck me. "Why are there only three of you?" I asked Isolda. "Where are the other two?"

"I'm not sure!" she replied, deflecting a rebel's sword blow. "They must be somewhere else on this base!"

Ahead of us, I spotted a rebel standing in the open. I fired two shots into his legs, and he dropped to the ground, clutching them. I stalked over to him and planted my boot squarely on his injured leg. He screamed in pain, just as I expected.

"Where are the other Shieldmaiden captives? Where are they?" I demanded, pressing my revolver to his head. I increased the pressure on his leg, and his screams intensified. "I can do this all day if you want! So you'd better start talking, or I'll make it even worse!"

"The Urk'hai den! They're in the Urk'hai den!" he shrieked. I stepped off his leg and stomped on his face, knocking him out cold.

"I know that place!" Isolda told me. "Please, follow me!"

Without a second's hesitation, we followed her as she ran toward the den.