The last of the GRP soldiers and Hellhounds moved warily around Vigil, who circled with charged fists clenched, visor pulsing scarlet light. "You ready to finish this? Come on!"
They charged, yelling when they closed in. Vigil assumed close-quarters combat tactics — quick repulsor blasts followed by combinations of swift and brutal strikes to vulnerable points. It wasn't fast enough. His attackers seemed spurred by desperation and fury, fighting back just as viciously. He felt several injuries threaten to push the battle in their favor — stab wounds that made it past his armor, contusions from being shot, shrapnel from the explosion. The Stingray still hovered outside, but he knew Spitfire wouldn't fire out of fear of hitting him. It was only a matter of time before the sheer numbers won out…
A flash of light. The crackle of heated blades. Vigil fought with renewed strength, knowing the tide had turned. Heretic joined the fray, fighting back-to-back with Vigil as if they'd done so many times before. It was a deadly tango of violence that brought the fight to a swift end as their combatants lost their appetite for battle. They quickly fell back, covering their retreat with sporadic bursts of poorly-aimed gunfire as Spitfire picked off stragglers with pinpoint aim from the Stingray. Vigil ignored the chaos, turning to Heretic with a charged fist at the ready.
"Killing cops? What the hell were you thinking?"
Heretic's voice rumbled from his helmet like angry thunder. "I should have struck you down along with the rest of these criminals. The trooper I cut down wasn't even human."
"What the hell are you saying?"
Heretic angrily gestured to the body, where the charred innards revealed scorched cables and wires. "Shock trooper — merely an automaton. I would have only wounded the human officers, but your interference will cost them their lives."
Vigil found his rifle and slung it over his shoulder. "What are you talking about? Janus is the key, and he's in their custody. If anything, that's a win."
Heretic shook his head. "You have no idea what devils you fight against. Janus' cultists are at the cusp of their attempt at godhood, and they will stop at nothing to achieve their goal. I hope you aren't close to any of the officers that just left. Because of your actions, they were dead the moment you allowed them to walk out of here with Janus still breathing."
The prisoner transport van hurtled down the street — sirens wailing, lights flashing, tires squealing. Not waiting for traffic to clear, they swung onto the main avenue, scattering other vehicles, precariously tilting on two wheels before the van righted itself. Ronnie hung on to the overhead strap to keep from tumbling over. She threw a quick glance at Janus, who sat still where he was handcuffed to the seat. His eternally grinning mask seemed to mock her when he returned her gaze, eyes barely visible from the blackened sockets. He hadn't spoken since his capture, but didn't appear at all disturbed. He looked as relaxed as one could be in a careening hunk of wheeled armor, sitting comfortably as if on public transportation despite the two black-armored troopers seated on either side of him.
Ronnie glanced at Isaac. "Our guy is putting on a brave face."
Isaac grunted. "Easy to do with a mask on."
"Tell me about it. Unfortunately, it's locked in place, so we'll have to wait until we get to the precinct before we can take a look under the hood."
Isaac's head jerked when the side of the vehicle was rocked by a salvo of gunfire. "If we get there."
Ronnie synchronized her holoband to the van's exterior cameras, flicking the screens to each wall to get a panoramic view of their surroundings. The transport hurtled through the Brickland streets on a course to Precinct 51 on the other side of the district. Grim Reaper Posse soldiers on zip bikes closed in on either side of the van. The slim flying cycles didn't have to compensate for traffic, so they freely took potshots at the police vehicle.
"Good thing their rounds aren't armor-piercing," she said, hitting the Emergency button on the wall. "I'm calling in some backup."
Isaac pointed to the screen on the van doors. "I think they're just trying to slow us down for the main attraction."
A military-style LAV mowed down cars in its path as it caught up to the police transport. Its eight heavy-tread wheels made it no problem to roll right over the cars it plowed into. The unlucky vehicles crumpled like soda cans, raining sparks as they slammed into one another or against the sides of street-side buildings. As the LAV continued onward, the turret-mounted autocannon fired a blazing burst of 25 mm rounds with a thunderous roar.
The doors of the police transport buckled from the force of the bombardment. The driver swerved wildly to avoid a second barrage. Ronnie hung on for dear life, watching helplessly as the LAV continued its demolition derby style of pursuit, simply crushing other vehicles in the way. A large grappling hook mounted on the side of the hull fired, punching right through the battered transport doors with a screech of twisted metal. The cable retracted, ripping the doors from the hinges. Hot air rushed in, battering Ronnie. She motioned to the troopers, who lifted their rifles and unloaded on the LAV with deafening bursts of gunfire. The rounds ricocheted harmlessly off the vehicle's armored hide as it closed in, engine growling.
Isaac glanced at her. "Finish the mission, Captain."
Before she could answer, he launched himself out the damaged doorway, smashing into the LAV's front hull with a crunching sound. The vehicle swerved, trying to shake him loose. Panels in his arm slid open and rearranged as it took shape as a mech cannon. Releasing his hold on the hull, he hit the street, slid under the vehicle, and fired a booming shot at the exposed chassis. The explosion lifted the LAV off the ground, several wheels flying in different directions. The vehicle slammed on its side and skidded, showering sparks and broken pieces of the undercarriage and suspension. Any sign of Isaac was lost in the billowing smoke.
Ronnie dismissed her worries, focusing on the zip bikes closing in from either side. Each had two riders — one piloting and the other manning a mounted gun on the rear of the bike. Ronnie knelt, using the remaining door frame for cover while she exchanged volleys of gunfire with the flying attackers.
"Aim at the pilots!"
One of her troopers took a shot to the chest that slammed him into the van wall. Losing his balance, he fell out of the van and skidded across the asphalt. Gritting her teeth, Ronnie squinted into the wind and lined up her handgun, firing at the nearest zip pilot. He ducked away from her shots but lost control of his bike. Clipping a delivery truck, the cycle whirled in a tailspin before slamming into a building with explosive force. The trooper on the other side scored several shots on the other zip pilot, who fell from his seat and turned into pulp on the sidewalk. The zip bike and mounted gunman plowed into the street and exploded in a brilliant cloud of searing flame.
Ronnie pumped her fist as the transport van continued to roll toward the precinct. She glanced at Janus. "Looks like your people lost this one."
He finally spoke, voice scornful through the leering mask. "You should have fastened your seat belt."
When she followed his gaze, she saw the rocket fire from a building rooftop just before it struck the wheels of the vehicle. The explosion threw her against the side of the van, crushing the breath from her lungs. The world turned upside down, flashes of buildings and wildly swerving vehicles blurred by, scorched metal stung her nostrils, smoke filled the interior of the van, choking her. The trooper was flung from the vehicle, flying into the street and out her line of sight. The van finally slammed against something solid, jarring her so hard that her vision blurred. Gasping, she looked for Janus. He was still secured to the seat, slumped uncomfortably on his side. His eyes looked outside expectantly.