Chapter 226
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 226
Chapter Title: End of April (13)
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What on earth have they prepared?
The dense forest was actually a disadvantageous environment for the Trickster too. Radio waves had a limited range. So some of the prepared traps would be the kind that posed a threat without direct control.
As various possibilities brushed past Winter's 「Insight」, the satellite terminal picked up a new signal.
"Major. Golden Eagle calling David Actual."
Winter tilted his head at Morales' words. An unfamiliar callsign.
"Golden Eagle?"
"Uh... hold on a moment? ...Carl Vinson, it's Carl Vinson. Carrier strike group. They say they have something to notify about additional support?"
It was a call coming in shortly after the battle had ended. Apparently, Marigold—or someone higher up—had launched a high-altitude drone to watch the engagement. And it probably wasn't just because of Winter. Given the importance of the Preventive Scalping operation, every report could be going straight to the White House in real time. For example, during Operation Neptune Spear when they took out Bin Laden in Pakistan, the U.S. President had watched the battle live with his staff.
Did it look too dangerous?
It hadn't been a lethal assault for Winter himself, but it must have looked very different from an observer's perspective. Just five men facing a siege from hundreds of mutants, including special variants. The task forces involved in this operation were being depleted at an alarming rate. They'd rescued a huge number, but losing elite troops that couldn't be replaced in the short term was a whole other level of problem. The unsolicited reinforcement made sense in that context.
'Assigning an attack helicopter squadron to just five guys is already impressive...'
No need to turn down free help, though.
The comms confirmed that escort ships would fire cruise missiles—Tomahawks—timed to their entry. Were they willing to risk friendly fire? Because the ambushing mutant group was estimated to be large? Winter pondered briefly, but the follow-up cleared his concerns.
"Golden Eagle, what exactly are these special-purpose rounds?"
[Chaff warheads and graphite filament warheads. They'll jam Trickster comms across all areas except David's path and degrade their other abilities too.]
Chaff scattered thin aluminum foil to disrupt radio waves. Meaning, no matter how many were hiding in the forest, they wouldn't receive the Trickster's signals. And since radio was the Trickster's main sense, it'd be blind in the chaff zone. Hard to count through the forest darkness with the naked eye.
Filament warheads were unfamiliar. They scattered spiderweb-like graphite fibers to tangle the Trickster wherever it went, making it hard to use bioelectricity as a weapon. Like whipping arms. Morales, listening beside him, looked stunned.
"Six Tomahawks... Thanks, but if they gave us even half that value, we'd fight like hell for real. Damn, ten million dollars—money you couldn't earn in a lifetime."
The others nodded in agreement. Javelin-firing types who yelled, "Whoa, there goes two hundred grand!" as they shot.
The U.S. government seemed pissed too. Budget worries aside, they were burning through expensive systems without hesitation. Makes sense—in a fight for humanity's survival, hesitate too long and there'd be no one left to use them. The countless lives saved by this op were worth more.
After wrapping up comms, Winter waited for the moonless dawn.
Stars wheeled across the sky with time. The night of intermittent roars and screams shook with sudden thunder. Noise makers activating. Meaning the attack helicopter squadron was inbound.
Jet engine roar mixed in next. Light points approached from the western sky. Poomph, poomph. Six missiles burst simultaneously under the starry vault. Faint white fibers scattered widely, and silver dust sprayed like fountains from bomblets on tiny parachutes riding the wind. Nearly two tons of aluminum powder would disperse continuously for the set time.
Human ingenuity against mutant evolution.
"Let's go. With this much help, let's end the hunt now."
Right before departure, they blew the scatter mines. Thousands of tiny steel balls swept the broad front with the shockwave. Crouching plagues screamed horrifically. Alejandro dumped all remaining high-explosive grenade launcher ammo on them. Couldn't leave rounds behind.
Winter turned the reins sideways.
"Flank 'em. They'll try to close the gap."
Dense stench rode the smoke-laced breeze. Movements to plug the hole in the encirclement. But that would thin the density around. Winter arced around and raised his hand. Beyond the bushes used for cover, mutants surged in a herd. Substantial numbers.
Maybe a hunting dog in the middle.
No need to kill them all. Take out the ghouls and hunting dogs, and the Trickster's control wouldn't be precise enough. On the other hand, leave enough to pursue confidently. Lure the cunning ones into kill range at the endgame.
Ghouls stood out pale even from afar, but the problem was hunting dogs—stalkers looked too similar to regular mutants. Mixed in a crowd at distance, even their sniffing posture blended. How to handle? Winter suddenly stared into the wind.
Crack-crack!
Snap shot. A bird that had taken flight, wary of the savage night, dropped dead. Three hits sprayed decent blood and feathers. The wind spread the scent, and several in the mutant pack instantly veered. Knew it. Winter targeted the disturbance, squeezing off seven rounds in one breath. Finished with one in a ghoul's forehead. The gray-white corpse's head snapped back.
"Now run!"
Hooah! No need to hush voices amid the noise maker echoes. Five riders charged, leaving behind the disorganized pack scattering every which way without guides. They took a course subtly off from survivor positions. That was the trap's heart.
They'd trap themselves. At the set time, set place. Until then, scatter them, play elusive tag.
Screeeee!
Monsters burst from hiding everywhere. But disorganized. As Winter swept ahead, boom-boom-boom-boom! Heavy gunfire chains tightened chests. Auto shotguns (AA-12) as secondary arms. The same weapon Joanna once smuggled onto a cruise ship. Thirty-two full-auto buckshot blasts were a close-range apocalypse. Approaching flankers shredded. Kneecaps shattered joints, guts exploded abdomens.
Danger?
Intense warning prickled his whole body. As Winter wrenched the reins hard, tiny bodies dropped like overripe fruit from above the forward tree canopy—thick branches and opaque leaves.
"Argh! What the hell is that?!"
Whose scream? Indistinguishable. One horse nearly stumbled.
Splaaat! Screee-screee! Eeee-eee!
The repulsive fallers were plague babies bloated with yellow blisters. Slightly different from ones seen before. Crashing from dozens of meters, they splattered with acidic fluid bursts. Ground sizzled, acrid smoke bubbling wherever they spread. Dull, squelching impacts chained on.
Winter's eyes narrowed slightly.
So that's it. Numbers seemed low even considering the situation. This is what they were waiting for.
Halted mobility needing to skirt fallen trees. As team members mowed down rear flankers, Winter 「hurled」 grenades in sequence. Four blasts roared up, smashing the forward high line, opaque canopy. Dying monster babies shrieked at each. Unprecedented thick acid rain poured below.
Density wasn't that high. But area-wise, unignorable numbers.
If it was just a numerically superior ambush, it'd be manageable.
Reload! Covering while reloading shouts. But fire gap as magazines emptied near-simultaneously. As gunfire slackened, plagues closed in. Frantic hands cost time. Too late to yank reins. Winter flattened prone on horseback, hosing the inverted view. Click! Chamber empty. Half-breath to reload. Next ten seconds, seventeen headshots.
"Forward!"
Winter spurred ahead. Past acid-rain-scoured ground, along thinning canopy path. Natural slowdown from frequent turns. Likely the cunning mutants' predicted route. Grenades needed constantly to deviate. Still blocked multiple times by fallen giants.
"Hey! Grenade!"
Short order and gesture—Alejandro aimed grenade launcher diagonally. Frenetic bursts rained artificial downpour. Corpses charging below melted. But one dodging shards plummeted at horse and rider. Infant grenade, mid-air—Winter snatched short leg, hurled. Target ghoul dodged nimbly; three regular mutants behind bathed in aerial liquid death. Kyaaaaah! Infected agony's especially horrific discord.
Crack-crack! Crack-crack-crack!
Sparse branches no safety. Flesh clumps on centuries-old trunks, filthy fruits pierced by precise fire. Leaking pulp was dead explosions.
"Grenade count!"
Reports followed Winter's call. Five, four, five, seven. Ample for normal fights, saddlebags packed full—but already running low. Grenadier Alejandro couldn't dream of reloading.
Path so far traced an 8. Looping the cleared track to buy time. Until helicopter linkup.
Huge shadow rose amid countless forward giants. Fifty meters. Grumbler's scent detection range without wind interference.
"Down!"
Winter's sharp yell—soldiers ducked reflexively. Cannonball whooshed overhead.
Acid mutants climbed the Grumbler's legs. Over shoulders, past thick arms, self-'loading'. Throwing pattern synergized with acid mutants.
Sloppy, though.
Crack-crack-crack!
Winter's aimed shots as it wound for another toss. Loaded one, opposite shoulder one, climbers' blisters popped in chain. Acid-soaked giant roared. Winter already sighted on it with anti-materiel rifle—but bio-bombs dropping suddenly first. Bang! Bang! Tiny heads vanished from bloated torso. Headless, burst timing offset. Pierced ironclad HE impacts sent bodies veering late, then swelling.
Rooooar!
Roaring beast charged full tilt. Crashing trees, smashing obstacles. Half its body sizzling. Winter lobbed remote-fuzed TNT bar. Fine on healthy ones—damaged hide now? High odds.
Click. Switch—forest flashed. Momentum-flung behemoth tumbled wildly. Rolled into ditch. Not dead? Bought space.
Density rose—mutants clocked the looped path. Winter checked watch, turned toward helicopter rendezvous. Rallied team.
"Hang in just a bit longer! Almost there!"
"There! Trickster?!"
Shouting Schultz hosed 10 o'clock. Deformed silhouette flashed by. Tangle of threads gave grotesque feel.
Soon, open sky neared. Trickster planned to herd cavalry to clearing too, it seemed. Humans fleeing acid rain would seek tree-less spots. Another ambush at luring distance.
'Give favorable setup, and it'll crave infecting me.'
No host superior to Winter. Watching past apocalypses, post-death progress—Winter's inevitably infection-killed body always birthed especially potent monsters.
Standing under open sky, he yanked flare gun from saddle, fired at dawn's heart. Invisible IR marker signaled on-time arrival. Preempted helo arrival per agreement.
"Hold here! Thirty seconds!"
Winter's yell—soldiers fanned fire lanes all around.
"Fuck! Filthy numbers! Frag out!"
Morales hurled all remaining grenades. Dozens of shadows fell; more than that surged from dark. Loose encirclement tightened rapidly. Not charging—circling like wolves. Not attrition rushes, but all-in when zero-fail.
Distant survivors? Irrelevant. Hunt later.
Finally, mutant wave crested.
Fierce wind unlike before swept in.
Tiny forest clearing, under 100 meters square—four attack helos appeared. Apache squadron hover so low dual-seaters visible. Unprecedented low flight since Trickster emergence. Plague flood hesitated. Cunning mutants' confusion.
[David Actual. Good work. Hammer Fall engaging now. Might get splash—keep low. Sit back and watch.]
Team shook with tension, ragged breaths—but grinned at relief, annoyance. Cocky bastards. Winter warned over radio.
"Hammer Fall! Watch for Grumblers! They throw acid-variant ones!"
[Acid...? Noted. Smash 'em first.]
Then no more talk. Helo HE barrage drowned all sound. Winter and Excel prone; others flattened behind downed horses. Grenade-scale blasts strobing 40/sec.
Faint roars amid: Grumbler. Burst from razed forest, shattered meat—two helos near-simultaneous missiles. 14cm plate-piercing overkill crushed beta physical resistance.
Trickster burst from rear. Using Grumbler as shield. Dense trees as suicide obstacles? Cannon tracers grazed limbs—but invisible shockwave detonated.
Helo squadron wobbled instant. Fire cut; altitude dropped meter.
That was it.
Attack helos slathered in forcedischarge circuits normalized in seconds. Marigold's purpose-built experimentals.
[Thought you'd just take it forever, you dumb shits?]
Another shockwave rocked Hammer Fall. Another Trickster suicide. No change. Rocket salvoes on scattering mutants. Four helos' 300 rockets bored deep into woods. Alejandro's silent cheer.
'Surviving Tricksters still.'
Winter read mutant moves. Headless? They'd mindless charge. Now? Confused retreat. Movement no vengeance. Silent one exception.
Endless barrage slackened.
[Support complete. David Actual, Hammer Fall RTB. Good hunting.]
"Hammer Fall, thanks for the outstanding support."
Winter replied, pursuit immediate.
Surviving Trickster glitched—dying static across all channels. Traced strengthening signal: special variant supported by small group before 1300-year sequoia. Winter shot charging regulars, asked team.
"Who wants to kill that?"
Exchanging glances—Alejandro stepped up.
"Me?"
"Sure."
Latino PFC aligned sights on neutralized Trickster.
"Always wanted this line. Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker."
Soldier emptied a mag into the monster's final death screech.