The gunship wove through the maze of buildings, navigating its way through the valleys of steel as it moved through the lower city, gradually descending towards the limits of civilisation, where the city ended and Downtown began. The commandos of Revenant Squadron sat in the passenger bay, strapped into their seats as they waited to reach their destination.
The gunship's intercom crackled to life as the pilot addressed his passengers. "Approaching landing site, ETA three minutes, Lieutenant."
"Affirmative," Grim replied before turning his attention to his squad. "Alright boys, this is it," he said. "I don't need to tell you we're on a dangerous mission here. The chance of success is woefully slim, and it's practically a suicide mission," Grim said. "We're headed into unknown and uncharted territory where anything and everything could be a potential threat. On top of that, we are hunting a very dangerous foe who we have to bring in alive, despite everything."
He paused briefly to let his words sink in and consider what he said next. The tension around the mission had been evident ever since they had taken off from the base, and now it was so thick they felt as if they were almost swimming in it. Grim didn't blame them for being anxious and afraid; if they had any sense, they would be.
"We've all heard the rumours about the mutants, freaks, abominations, creatures of the night and monsters that supposedly inhabit Downtown," he continued. "If the stories are legend, myth or true, I know one thing for certain. If it's true, then they're real. If they're real, then they're alive, and if they're alive, they can bleed, and if they can bleed, they can die," he roared.
A chorus of cheers and fists pounding against chest armour and bulkheads answered his declaration.
Grim picked up his helmet and placed it over his head, its systems coming online as it settled onto his shoulders. The rest of the squad did the same, the visors on their helmets lighting up with a crimson red glow as they came online, and the helmet's systems synced with their armour. In their polished black armour, the commandos resembled high-tech versions of medieval knights, the glowing red strip visors making them look menacing. A feature that inspired fear in their foes and gave them a psychological edge.
The lieutenant undid his crash webbing and stood, grabbing hold of an overhead handrail with one hand. "We can't do this by the book, because no one's ever done it before," he began. "So, we improvise and draft a new battle strategy that suits the environment. Standard urban warfare procedure, but also utilising covert operations of jungle battle tactics," he said. "We're entering the abyss and don't know what we'll encounter, so for all intents and purposes we play it safe, keep our guard up and constantly be on the look-out. I'm splitting us into two three-man teams for the operation, like the AAA assignment. Team Alpha will consist of myself, Jet, and Cash, while Cram leads Team Beta of Wes, and Dex. Stay together as a unit unless instructed otherwise, should the situation require it, and always maintain visual and audio contact with the squad," Grim said. He tapped the side of his helmet, and taking the hint, they all switched over to the internal communications system. "Any questions?"
The rest of the team all turned their heads in Jet's direction, and the rookie shrugged. "No sir," he replied.
"Closing in on our destination, 60 seconds until landing," the pilot announced over the comm. "Target beacon is in the black zone; have to land at an alternative position two kilometres away to ensure a safe landing," the pilot added.
"Affirmative, standing by," Grim replied. He motioned his men forwards, and they all moved into position, holding onto the overhead handrails as the gunship gave a whine and slowed before gradually making a vertical drop. The commandos all activated their weapons with a chorus of electronic beeps and whirls as the powerful blaster rifles powered up. They activated their helmet's night vision and prepared their armour's systems for combat, per their preferred settings.
The two gunners situated in the gunnery pods flanking either side of the gunship scanned the area for any potential threats as they descended, the pilot bringing her down neatly in the middle of a rectangular area that was the ruins of an ancient walkthrough mall.
The access ramp descended with a whirl as Jet and Dex led the team's exit from the gunship, flanking both sides of the ramp and taking up defensive positions in front of the ship as they fell into a crouch.
"All clear," Dex declared after a few seconds.
The rest of the team followed suit, scanning the area for any potential threats as they exited the gunship, falling into formation within their two smaller designated teams as the two groups moved out.
"Falling back to Checkpoint Charlie; let us know when you need us, Lieutenant," the pilot said to Grim over the comm.
"Copy that. Beginning trek to the beacon. Good luck, and thanks for the ride," Grim replied.
"Same to you, sir, happy hunting."
The landing ramp ascended once more as the gunship lifted off vertically and made its way back to the lower city, where the crew would check in at a local security HQ and wait for news from the Revenants.
The commandos moved out through the streets, each team taking an opposite side as they made their way towards the tracking device Caskar had ejected from his armour. Skirting the walls of ancient, crumbling buildings, they strode through the area, constantly on the lookout for any would-be ambushers, locals, or anything that might present a problem or a threat. The streets were eerily empty and silent, devoid of any signs of life.
"Jynx! This place is creepy," Wes commented. "It's shocking cold down here too."
Cram scoffed. "We're what, seven kilometres below the surface? Of course, it's cold, this place hasn't seen sunlight in centuries."
"Quiet," Grim snarled. "Maintain comm silence unless necessary."
The two soldiers said nothing further as they continued to shuffle through the streets, rounding a corner and suddenly stumbling upon an inhabited area. Several dumpster fires and cooking pits lit the street with a warm, welcoming glow as they moved into the street and inched their way down it, exercising additional caution now they had encountered signs of habitation. Makeshift seats and debris surrounded the larger fires, their recent occupants having vanished.
"Weird, there's obvious signs there are people living here, but where did they go?" Jet wondered aloud.
Cash chuckled. "We came in on a gunship; the sight and sound of it caught their attention for sure," he said. "In this place it's like waving a massive flag and screaming "'Here we are,' while setting off fireworks."
"Oh," Jet replied as he realised their arrival had been noticed for kilometres around.
"And they've all high-tailed it and gone into hiding," Wes finished.
"Where?" Jet asked, before realising the folly of his question.
Cash chuckled, "Take a look for yourself, kid. Switch over to infrared," he said, tapping a finger on the side of Jet's helmet.
Jet did as suggested, and the area immediately lit up with several dozen glowing red figures. "Oh, I see," he said, sweeping his gaze around the street.
They moved through the winding, narrow streets towards the tracking device, their night vision lighting the streets on their camera feeds with a clarity that allowed them to see everything within two hundred meters of their position as if it were daylight, albeit a curiously green-tinted one. There was something foreboding and unsettling about the dark, empty streets kilometres below the hustle and bustle of civilisation, where they could see the sun's rays and feel its warm caress upon their skin. Down here, in the poverty-stricken recesses of Downtown, it was cold, dark and damp. The smell of a perpetual wetness and stale, stagnant air invaded their nostrils, even through the filters in their helmets.
"I've got a bad feeling about this place," Cram muttered, more to himself than anyone else, speaking aloud because it made him feel better to interact with his teammates.
"Civilisation left this place centuries ago and abandoned the destitute. Whatever fragments of society remain are going to be primitive at best," Dex said. "It's like they've reverted to precivilisation and become a tribal race once more."
Wes was about to comment when something flashed past at the edge of his vision. "What the fuck was that?" he said, whirling in the direction of the movement he had only the barest glimpse of.
"What was what?" Dex asked, turning to see the source of his squad mate's alarm.
"Over there," Wes said, gesturing with his rifle off to their far left. Bits of brick, stone and cement littered the ground between the crumbling remains of two walls. "Something moved past us. I only just got a glimpse of it, but it looked like a large reptile of some sort, with six legs," he said incredulously.
Cram joined the two of them in studying the place where Wes said he had seen the creature, studying their surroundings with his infrared scanner, but seeing nothing.
An uneasy shiver raced up Wes's spine as he replayed what he had seen in his memory again and again. He hadn't got a good look at it, and what he saw was brief, but it was nightmarish to behold.
"Whatever it was, it's gone now," Cram said. "Keep a lookout, just in case; we don't want any nasty surprises."
Wes and Dex voiced their acknowledgement, and the three of them resumed their trek towards the tracker, Grim's squad waiting for them so the two groups didn't get separated.
They continued their journey and before too long arrived at their destination. The tracker was located on the second floor of a crumbling four-story building, still emitting its signal, which had allowed the Revenants to pinpoint its precise location.
"Cram, your team is to remain outside and watch our backs; keep an eye out for any suspicious activity," Grim ordered, leading Jet and Cash into the building through its crumbling doorway.
"Copy that," Cram replied before turning to his subordinates. "Defensive positions, Dex, take point and find a good vantage point somewhere," he said, addressing the team's sniper.
Dex nodded and began hunting for a location that provided him with cover but allowed a good view of the street.
Meanwhile, Wes and Cram took up defensive positions near the storefront Grim's team had entered.
Grim led the way into the building, moving through what used to be a combination grocer/convenience store on the first floor but gave way to apartments on the subsequent levels. They made their way up a winding, narrow staircase and onto the second floor, inching down the hallway towards the location of the tracker. Entering the apartment through the shattered remains of the door, they quickly located the device, lying on the floor of the main room which stood empty, with the exception of the odd piece of debris and tell-tale signs of recent habitation. The bones of devoured vermin and the remains of a small fire sat in the centre of the room. The tracking device and some pieces of scrap metal and circuitry lying nearby, in conjunction with some bloody rags and bandages.
Grim stood over the remains of Caskar's makeshift camp and took in what he saw.
"Looks like Mister hotshot ain't so hot after all," Cash commented, coming to stand beside him while Jet conducted recon of the rest of the apartment.
Grim nodded. "Well, that adds some context to his situation," he said. "He's wounded and his armour is damaged; it looks like he had a bit of a rough time locating and discarding the tracker."
"My question is, why go to all that effort to remove the tracker, then just leave it here?" Cash asked. "He could've smashed it and stopped it from transmitting, which would make it a lot harder for us to find him, but he didn't."
"Hhhmmm," Grim uttered. "I don't know. It doesn't make any sense, and that makes me uncomfortable. Knowing Caskar, he's got something up his sleeve, and that means we've got to be ready for anything," Grim said.
They made their way out of the building and joined the rest of the squad to discuss their next move. "What could you find out about the surrounding area?" Grim asked Dex, who had been holed up in the window of a 6th floor building across the street and had gone to still higher ground to scope out their surroundings.
"Not a lot," Dex admitted. "Heading away from here without returning to the crash site there's only two possible routes he could've taken. I couldn't see too far ahead, even with my helmet's spotlight activated briefly, and attempting a simulated recreation of the place, I'm sketchy on the details. It appears a couple of larger buildings to our west collapsed some time ago and brought down a few smaller ones around them; hence, that way is blocked off for quite some distance."
"We could split up and take both routes?" Jet suggested.
Grim shook his head. "We stick together. We can't go splitting up every time we come to a fork in the road. We'd soon be alone, then likely dead."
"How about we shake down some of the locals and see what they know?" Cram suggested. "Someone is bound to know something about Caskar and where he went."
"Good idea," Grim said, combing the area with his infrared scanner. The building two doors down was occupied by five inhabitants, currently sitting and remaining in place, apparently hiding from the commandos and hoping to go unnoticed. No such luck. "Okay, we do this by the book, treat them as non-combatants and with the same degree of decency we extend to normal civilians," Grim said. "My team will go in through the entrance and apprehend them, while Cram's team goes in through a back to prevent any escape and counter any potential ambush," the lieutenant ordered.
"Copy that. Let's roll, boys," Cram said, leading his two commandos down a narrow alleyway between the two buildings. Grim and his team took up position across the street from the building, crouching behind anything that gave them cover as they waited for the signal that Cram's team was in position.
"Bingo," Cram announced upon sighting the rear door to the building. "We're in position, boss."
"Copy that," Grim said, motioning to Jet and Cash in turn. "Let's move out."
The three commandos jogged across the street, with Jet and Cash taking up defensive positions on either side of the entrance as Grim kicked the door in. The door fell inwards and broke apart on rusted hinges as Grim bounded into what had been a reception area. Jet and Cash drifted into the room close behind, flanking their commander on either side, rifles held at the ready.
A man in tattered rags cowered behind the reception booth with his hands in the air, while another got up and bolted from the room.
Cram threw his shoulder into the rotted remains of the timber door that marked the exit, and it fell apart under the force of the blow. His team hustled into the building, just in time to catch the fleeing vagrant. "Freeze, on the ground," Cram shouted over the external speakers, shoving the nozzle of his blaster into his face.
Wes and Dex moved to apprehend another who scrambled to his feet in a back room and attempted to flee as well, an elbow from Dex smacking him in the jaw and knocking him to the ground.
Jet kept the man behind the desk firmly in place by gesturing for him to stay put and keeping his blaster levelled at him.
Grim approached the one Cram held at bay with his blaster firmly pointed at his head. He lowered his own weapon and gestured for Cram to do the same.
Cram obliged but kept a close eye on the hobo in case he decided to try anything or make a run for it.
"You understand me?" Grim asked.
The man, who was filthy and looked to be in his 60s, nodded. "I speak, yes," he said in a somewhat thick and drawling accent.
"Good," Grim replied. "We don't want to hurt you; we want information. Tell us what we need to know, and we leave."
The man looked around uneasily at the commandos and then back at Grim with a nod, his eyes wide with fear and his face covered with a sheen of sweat.
"There was another one like us here three days ago. Did you see him?" Grim asked.
The man looked at him fearfully and swallowed with a nod. "Yes, we all see. Always notice strangers, especially demons from world above," he said.
Grim scoffed. "Where did he go?" he demanded.
The old man looked around frantically as if searching for an escape.
"Hey," Grim barked. "Look at me and answer the question," he snarled.
"No know," the vagrant replied.
"Yes, yes," Grim snapped. "Tell me, where did he go?"
"Don't know," the hobo insisted. "He come one day, gone next. No see leave."
Grim grit his teeth behind his helmet, preparing to have to beat it out of him if he had to.
"He go bad way," piped up the vagrant Jet was guarding.
Grim turned to him. "Where?" he demanded.
The vagrant's eyes widened with horror as he trembled in fear, suddenly overtaken by a deep sense of terror that confused and unnerved the commandos. "No go," he insisted, his lip quivering.
Grim took a step towards him and pointed his blaster in the bum's direction without raising it.
The hobo's gaze flicked from the glowing red visor to the blaster rifle; taking the hint, he nodded and swallowed hard. "Gorgotha," he rasped, as if he were afraid to even utter the word. "He go through home of Gorgotha."
"What's a Gorgotha?" Jet asked.
"Greek pastry?" Cash quipped.
"Gorgotha, big evil. Monster from abyss," the vagrant said. "None ever return. Me told him, he go anyway, faster route he say. No afraid of monsters."
"Neither are we," Grim replied flatly. "How do we get there?"