[dcs_p]Sliding back into the shadows of the other barrack buildings, Ryan began moving
towards the command barracks. His cover was disappearing under the soft glow
of the barrack building lamps. Sadly, losses in the security building were
secondary at this point. If Colonel Strider or Star Colonel Carns were dead,
everything would be chaos. We need our leaders. Please don’t be dead, not
after all this.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]Ryan could now smell fire. It was coming from the security building behind him, a
soft wind blowing the noxious fumes of burning plastic into his nostrils. The
guards had been killed. Nothing else could explain their absence, unless they
were working for the enemies. That was something he had never even
considered up to this point.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]Ryan drew up his rifle and ran low to the ground, making good time but sacrificing
his own safety to do so. Though he’d not seen anything suspicious up to now, he
suddenly ran into something hard. Pain burst into his knees and left elbow, all of
which had crunched into the unseen wall. In the soft glow of the overhead lights,
he could only make out a small, bizarre red shape moving in mid-air. The red
was paint. Or blood. Something was standing just in front of him. It was hard
as a rock and hidden from his natural eyesight.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]”Identify yourself!” Ryan screamed out. He would take no chances under the
circumstances. As the night breeze brought smoke onto his position, Ryan could
make out wisps of the foul air in the light, moving off of an invisible giant, a great
hulking phantom. It was only a meter away.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]Ryan wasted no time, firing most of his clip into the middle area of the ghost’s
barely visible frame. Under the explosions that rocked the silent figure, he could
roughly make out more of the abomination’s shape. It was turning around to face
its attacker.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]Ryan aimed at the empty space where he guessed the ghost’s head might be,
unleashing the rest of his gyrojet-propelled shells at almost point blank range in
an uninterrupted rain of metal and fire.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]The ghost fell backwards. It’s head opened up, exposing metal and a human
face in agony. The person inside had been terribly burned, and the sight caught
Ryan by surprise. He was not used to seeing his fallen opponents up close, not
when his was the life of a Mechwarrior.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]The cloaking effect had been rendered obsolete on the head portion of the
armored body, and there would be no protecting the suit’s operator anymore.
With a quick recovery and realization of his present situation, Ryan jumped
forward onto the machine’s form and smashed the butt of his rifle into the
operator’s face. He was thrown off. He quickly recovered to his feet. The suit’s
operator did not.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]It was a Purifier suit, a model of battle armor fielded by the Strikers themselves.
He was still unsure if it was one of their own, or rather it had infiltrated the base.
Things seemed worse than expected. This armored machine was a signature of
the Word of Blake and House Marik. Ryan knew in his gut that the Strikers’ arch
enemies had struck again. The Blakists of Wasat had not forgotten the battles
from years past. Got to be them again.[/dcs_p]