Author's Note: All properties are the rights of their respecitve owners, Marvel, Respawn Entertainment, etc.

If you find yourself with a spare hour or two today, there are worse ways to spend it than watching Drachinifel's excellent series on the Battle of Jutland, part 2 just came out today.

One more thing, I want to make something very clear at the start. I originally planned out this chapter's basic plotline way back in March of 2020 and wrote it in late June I think. The reason I am saying that is that some of the events are a bit too close to real life ones and might give the wrong impression. This is a piece of fanfiction I write for fun, not because I feel the need to use it to offer some sort of commentary on current events. I also think the chapter is good and that you are all capable of distinguishing fiction from reality, so there is no need to change it. In short, events and actions depicted here are not meant to be reflective of any current events or offer a recommended course of action, this is purely a work of fiction. Got it? Good.

A fan: I might do that Castle spin off if there is more demand for it, and it could allow me to do some more of Frank's adventures later on. I would not agree that the Division bosses parallel the Spidey ones, they lack that personal connection to the player character, and few of them are really sympathetic in the same way that Otto or Li are, at least up to a point. There will be no Green Goblin, at least not yet, but both Peter and Matt will be busy for sure. I don't think adding more villains is a good idea (we already have the Sinister Six, plus Bliss) so don't hold your breath. As for Yuri, her arc is very much inspired by what happens in the DLC so if you can't stand to wait then go give those a look up online.

Blaze1992: Recall that when Matt loaded up that night he did so expecting a normal patrol and not a prison break. As for why there was no help, you can understand that Osborn was delaying that for as long as he could, too long as it turned out. He didn't truly realize the scope of what was happening and took a gamble, one he lost. I felt the need to try to come up with some reason there would be no additional help and it was the best I could come up with.

Mendoza249: I know you reviewed something like 47 chapters ago, but I'm glad you seem to be enjoying the story, hopefully that's stayed the same up through now too.

DD-returns101: Osborn still has a lot of power and a lot of powerful friends, Fury went perhaps too far in threatening Matt so he won't do that. That, and with how hard he was teased for the sequel I don't want to waste all that build up.

While I said I didn't want to reference current events, I will reference historical ones. This chapter was originally going to be 'Rorke's Drift', named after the battle featured in the classic film 'Zulu' but I went with another historical metal song. Some of you may know it, but I'd wager many of you don't, and to those, I would suggest listening to not just it, but the entire trilogy it is a part of.

You read that right, this is a part of the legendary Iced Earth Gettysburg Trilogy from their awesome 2004 album The Glorious Burden. All three songs should ideally first be heard back to back to back as they were originally intended, since each one covers a day of the Battle of Gettysburg from the US Civil War. As a whole, 'The Devil to Pay', 'Hold at All Costs', and 'High Water Mark' is a thirty minute long epic retelling one of the most critical battles in American History. Each song corresponds to a day of the battle, and while part of me wanted to have all three songs appear in order, this chapter is too fitting of day 2, and the song about the far left of the Union line. A small hill defended by the 20th Maine Volunteer Infantry Regiment known to history as Little Round Top.

Power Without Question – Chapter 59: Hold at All Costs

Wave after wave they're coming

Their power must be waning

We're out of ammo, we can't fall back, no

One desperate measure, a means to end

On their next wave we charge them, There is no other option,

Disconcert them, force submission, On my command, fix bayonets

We know what we're made of

When up against all odds we hold our line

For the cause that we so love

We must hold at all costs

Storming out of the Mayor's office, Silver Sablinova turned to the fire team of troopers waiting in the hallway who snapped to attention. "Sergeant, report" she ground out as she led the men back to their vehicle outside. Her hands seemed to find their own way down to her pistols as the woman simmered at what a waste of time this whole excursion to City Hall had been. No matter what boneheaded decisions her employer made, she would do what she had always done. She would go find a fight and put herself square in the middle of it.

The Sergeant understood that and cleared his throat before updating her. "Our forces are heavily engaged throughout the city ma'am. Checkpoints Alpha-4, Charlie-11, Foxtrot-1, and Golf-6 have been completely overrun, no survivors," he began, each one having been manned by a squad of ten men. "A troop convoy moving from MOB Yankee to FOB Liberty was ambushed, no survivors. The weapons, ammunition, and equipment being transported have all been stolen," relayed the Trooper as the group arrived at the MRAP and mounted up.

"Pizdets," cursed the Symkarian lowly. "What about what is going on right now?" she demanded, "any developing situations?"

There was a brief pause as the NCO looked down at his datapad, "Multiple hostile contacts across the city…data from the NYPD crime network is showing a large group of hostiles approaching FOB Albany," rattled off the Sergeant. He didn't need to remind her what that was; Albany was just outside a Sable Communications Uplink on the east side, in the northern part of Chinatown. While small, it handled radio traffic for all Sable forces in a quarter of the city. But it was a newly erected construction along with its defenses and so Albany was barely an FOB with only a force barely above platoon strength, 25-30 men, stationed there. Still it was a position that they could not afford to lose, the odds were quickly turning against them and the bleeding had to be stopped. "Estimated enemy strength is 250."

The numbers did not deter her in the slightest, leaning into the cab to get the drivers attention she ordered "Get us to FOB Albany, double time."

Yuri found herself somewhere she rarely came, the dispatch floor of her precinct, where NYPD officers coordinated those out on the streets with the aid of high tech Osborn equipment and related information from 911 controllers. However, the staff was overwhelmed, working as fast as they could in the wake of the jailbreak and ensuing mass of calls from officers and civilians alike it barely seemed to stem the oncoming tide. Watanabe was there to try and keep things moving efficiently and make executive decisions, the hard ones that she hated, but had to be made regardless because it was obvious that they didn't have enough manpower for this crisis. Part of her wanted nothing more than to don the Wraith kit stowed in her office a few floors up and get into the field to help out her men directly, but she was effectively confined to the cramped room.

Still, she couldn't help but overhear some of the traffic being sent out by the seemingly unflappable handful of men and women on the radios. "All units, we have a possible ten-thirteen. Be on the lookout for car five-five. Over" said one as Yuri looked at the bank of screens showing car dash cams on one wall, the one for that car blank, which didn't bode well.

Yuri found herself looking over the various camera views from the patrolling cars, in silent awe at the sights staring back at her. Looted storefronts and burning cars lined the streets as one of the cruisers turned down a narrow alley with the label '24' on the overlay of the feed. In the frame there was a police car with shattered windows and spray painted graffiti tags all over it. "Dispatch, this is car two-four. We have a visual on car five-five. It looks abandoned, over" called in the officer riding shotgun in car 24 as Yuri grit her teeth.

"Copy that, proceed with caution. Over," returned the controller as Yuri watched when a blur dropped down and something slammed into the hood of the car, causing the Captain to noticeably flinch at the sudden impact that cracked the windshield and crumpled the hood.

"Mother of Christ!" shouted the cop on the radio in shock, not realizing he was still transmitting as Watanabe's eyes focused and realized that it was a human body that had slammed into the car, even more shocking was the 'NYPD' patch on the dead man's shoulder. The driver threw the car into reverse and tried to back up only to stop again just as quickly. "Shit! They're behind us! Forget it, go! Just go, now!" yelled out the passenger as the car shot forwards, the cops body slipping off the side as the passenger spoke back up. "Dispatch, this is car two-four, we are…" called the cop frantically before trailing off for some unknown reason.

Yuri had already spun around, "Get them out of there, now!" she yelled before she resumed watching, enthralled despite her best efforts.

The car rounded a corner in the alleyway and came to a stop as the two cops found themselves face to face with at least ten men in dirty Rikers jumpsuits supplemented by a mix of bandoliers, armored vests, helmets, and jackets. Some had facemasks or weapons, and all had a white 'X' scribbled on their chests or sleeves. They were all around the other captured cop, who was hanging from his feet limply with his head bashed in before they turned to face the newly arrived cop car. "Car two-four, what's going on out there?" asked the controller.

"Fuck," muttered the cop shakily as the lead prisoner placed his hands on the hood and stared into the cop car. "Dispatch, this is, uh, car two-four. We are…" he was cut off when the inmate leaning on the hood stepped back with a malice filled grin while those behind him readied their weapons. "Back up! Back up! BACK UP!" cried the cop desperately, but it was too late as rounds tore through the glass, killing the officer on the radio before one knocked out the camera and the scene went to static.

"You shit stains want some!" yelled out Castle as he dropped the bolt on his reloaded Benelli shotgun, "Come and get it!" Down the hallway, the Punisher could hear the sound of escaped convicts rushing him just as he came out and raised the M1014, planting a load of buckshot in the first guy's chest that stopped him, quite literally, dead in his tracks. Without hesitation, the Marine brought the weapon to bear on the next in the narrow corridor, blasting his head apart with a single blast before the semi-automatic 12 gauge was turned on the third and fourth enemies coming at him. Now standing at the other end of the gore filled hallway, he swept the muzzle of the gun around the corner only to have two meaty hands wrap around the muzzle.

"Surprise motherfucker!" snarled the inmate as he tried to wrench the gun from the Punisher's grasp, only the Marine didn't try to fight the man, using the gun to slam the man into the wall, pinning him there with the length of the scattergun as he reached down with his left hand and drew his K-Bar. With a growl, he plunged the blade into the man's stomach and carved through his guts, ignoring the man's cries as the inmate let go of the shotgun and Frank yanked it away before slashing the knife across the man's throat and watching blood spurt across the wall as he crumpled to the floor. Sheathing the blade, Castle shouldered the scattergun once again as he resumed fighting his way out of the drug den he was in the middle of raiding when the first inmates arrived.

Finally exiting the building, he was grateful to see the Battle Van where he had left it, seemingly untouched by the escaped prisoners as he opened the door and got settled down inside. Starting the Van, he got moving quickly because he knew that more were likely coming to get some attempt at payback for killing their buddies. As he drove through the streets of the city, he pulled out his phone and dialed one of the few numbers in it. "Pick up," he growled to himself as he guided the Battle Van through the streets, "Pick up damnit!" demanded the Punisher before the call went to the Marauder's voicemail.

Snapping the flip phone shut and dropping it in the passenger seat, Frank thought things through as he tried to think of a course of action. If the Marauder wasn't answering then the kid would have had a damn good reason for it, he could reach out to his girl, but chances are she wouldn't be in much of a position to help him either. Flipping on the radio, he listened to the repeated messages on all channels for listeners to stay in their homes and lock their doors. Castle had no intention of doing that, instead deciding to continue dishing out punishment to those who crossed his path.

Stopping at a stoplight, he looked to either side and his attention was grabbed by the sight of a group of burning cars down the road and then the orange jump suited men that surrounded them. Bringing the van around, he slowly went down the street until he saw one of the thugs notice him and approach him. "Well look what we have here boys!" yelled out one, "Looks like somebody is lost, let's give him directions." Pulling out his M1911, Frank watched the unfortunate punk approach and rolled down his window, thankful the tint in the windscreen meant they couldn't see him inside. The inmate tapped on his window as Frank took aim with the gun across his chest and rolled the window down slowly. "Hey man, how are you – what the FU…"

Frank winced at the thunderous sound of the .45 going off in the confined space of the Van as the criminal's head snapped back and he fell on the asphalt. Taking advantage of their brief stunned state, Castle slammed down on the accelerator and charged straight into the nearest group of criminals and slamming into three, their bodies flying from the impact as a fourth was crushed under the weight of his modified vehicle as bullets came in. The armored panels and glass on the van were paying dividends as the rounds pinged uselessly off the titanium reinforced sides while Castle wheeled the vehicle around, pausing long enough to stick the gun out the window and plant two rounds into the wounded man writhing on the ground. Charging forwards, he slammed into two more and stopped just before he slammed into a wall, pinning them in place as he engaged the parking brake to keep them there as he clambered into the back as round peppered his Van while he grabbed an AA-12 and slammed a drum magazine into place.

Gritting his teeth, he pulled the pin on a smoke grenade before opening the back door just enough to toss the cylinder out as a cloud of thick white smoke was thrown up, obscuring the van as Frank slipped out and darted to his left, taking cover behind one of the burning cars. He could hear the continued chatter of gunfire as the smoke began to dissipate and he poked his head out as the convicts began to emerge. "You missed assholes!" he roared as he brought the Assault Shotgun up and cut loose, the steady beat of the automatic fire echoing through the street as the inmates were cut down from the fusillade of fire until the scene was eerily quiet.

Grunting in satisfaction, the Punisher returned to the driver's side of the Battle Van and planted a shot into each of the two men pinned by the vehicle before getting back inside and resuming his drive.

Across the city, Silver Sablinova grit her teeth as their destination neared and she could hear the reports coming in over the radio. FOB Albany was under heavy attack and Sable with her small team of six other troopers would be getting stuck right into the middle of it. Each man prepared in his own way in the dimly illuminated troop bay before the driver's voice came over the intercom. "Thirty seconds" he alerted as Silver holstered her pair of energy pistols and moved to the door as the first incoming rounds began to beat the outside of the armored vehicle like a drum before the trooper riding shotgun retaliated with the roof mounted weapons, the echoing thunk thunk of the belt fed Mark 19 automatic grenade launcher as it merrily churned its way through the belt of 40mm grenades.

As soon as the vehicle screeched to a halt, Sable threw the back door open and jumped down, staying low as she dashed into cover alongside the other four troopers as they all pressed themselves into walls or sandbags. Bullets snapped past as Sable poked her head out for a split second to get a lay of the land. The other troopers originally stationed here were manning the perimeter nearest the side where the attack was coming from; the Sable International transport was in the middle, automatic grenade launcher firing over all of their heads, round splashing down amongst the sources of gunfire coming at them. But the defenders were giving as good as they got, a flurry of red energy bolts flying back at the twinkle of muzzle flashes.

Not content with being this far back, Sablinova smoothly exited her cover and rushed forwards, raising both weapons and firing them one after the other with the other four troopers at her back doing the same as they moved to the front lines. Above them, the lone observation tower at FOB Albany was alight with a searchlight and Directed Energy Machine Gun being brought to bear against the inmates that Sable could see start to grow bolder, moving into the open before they were illuminated by the searchlight and then the DEMG. But there were more that were moving intelligently, using what cover was available to slowly advance until Sable stood and loosed a stream of pistol shots, watching one get in the stomach and spin to the ground before she arrived at the perimeter. Her presence did not go unnoticed either as she noticed the troopers defending Albany turned to her, almost gawking as she remembered these men were new. "SITREP," she barked loudly, having to shout over the cacophony of fire. When nobody answers, she grabbed the nearest man by his armored vest, "You! Where is your CO?" she demanded.

He finally gained his senses, "dead," he replied, pointing to a pulverized red and white corpse just beyond the perimeter. "There must be hundreds of them out there, they keep hitting us from different sides and ammo will start to become a problem soon," he added, voice verging on frantic, "We need more support."

"Did you forget?" she asked, "We are the support" retorted the Symkarian with a straight face, her eyes focusing on something in the darkness beyond the well lit position, a hint of movement before she thought she saw a glimpse of orange. "Contact! Right side!" she yelled out just as an ignited Molotov cocktail flew lazily through the air and came down next to a power generator powering the lights illuminating Albany. The fire quickly spreads and the gasoline soon went up in a fireball that reached up to the lights that now sat dimmed. With the lights gone, there was a chorus of cheers and cries as a salvo of shotgun shells fired and a group of men surged forwards in an attempt to break the perimeter.

Without hesitation, the Symkarian moved to counter this new threat, ignoring the rounds coming in as she brought both side arms to bear on the first man she saw, clad in an orange jumpsuit and blue NYPD jacket. Squeezing both triggers simultaneously, the man's head snapped back as he fell forwards, slumping over the white perimeter blocks as she switched to the second and third rushers, putting one pistol's laser sight on each. While one went down quickly, the second rounded on her and leveled his scattergun as the Mercenary hit the deck, rolling to throw off his aim before coming to a crouch, putting two shots in his chest and third in his head, leaving a smoking hole between his eyes as he dropped. But two more took their place as Silver was forced to backpedal, regulating her shots so she didn't overheat her weapons. Forced to grit her teeth as she watched more of the rushing Rikers and Raft escapees came over the wall and had to duck into cover, giving her weapons precious seconds to vent heat before she resumed firing.

When she did, she was joined by the 40mm grenade launcher on the MRAP, the energy grenades going off with a brilliant red flash that left black scorch marks on whomever or whatever was caught in the blast radius. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw that the rest of her men were still occupied on the other side, leaving it to her to single handedly hold this position. But the sight of another Molotov cocktail arcing through the air towards her caused Sablinova to have to react. With haste, she vacated her position as the bottle came down, covering the ground in fire as she moved to the opposite corner and came around only to find a nasty surprise waiting for her.

A monster of a man with a heavy ballistic vest marked with the seemingly ubiquitous white x spray painted on it threw a punch that hit her square in the chest, sending her staggering back as she fought to get air back in her lungs. The mercenary barely had time to gather her wits before he was in her face again and she brought a pistol up, firing once into his Kevlar vest to no effect before he grabbed her around the wrist, overpowering her as she changed tactics, planting a kick in the man's knee that did pitifully little. His free hand rammed into her stomach, causing her to double over she fought to not wretch on the spot before planting her second pistol on the man's thigh and firing, the red bolt cutting through the flesh with ease as he roared in pain.

But he didn't take the abuse without retribution as he ripped the pistol from her right hand before tossing the lighter woman like a rag doll as she rolled across the ground, coming to a stop as she brought her singular sidearm up only for the man's massive black boot to slam it back down to the ground as it was Sablinova's turn to roar in anger and pain as her fingers released their grip on the gun of their own accord. But at the same time, Silver rammed her fist into the man's wounded leg, causing him to yank his boot away with her weapon, but allowing her to reach for her fallback. Rolling away, she seamlessly pulled out the NRS-2 survival knife from its sheath on her leg and flipped it around, for it wasn't the blade she wanted. Flicking the safety off, she gripped the handle with both hands, right index finger finding its way to the trigger as the inmate charged her and she pulled the trigger. The 7.62x42mm round buried itself in his neck, severing some artery as blood shot out in a geyser that he tried desperately to curtail. Coldly, the Symkarian gave him no chance as she flipped the blade back around and went on the offensive, grabbing him by the collar of his vest as she planted a foot on his good leg and pulled herself up to get a good angle as she drove the knife into the other side of his neck, slicing it across his throat as he toppled over onto his back. Yanking the bloody blade from the man and got back to her feet as she realized that the area had fallen deathly silent, eerily so. Snapping up her handguns, she rounded the corner to see the other Troopers stand amongst the dead Rikers that had gotten inside the perimeter, kicking away the weapons in case the still bodies weren't as dead as they seemed.

One of them separated from the pack and made their way over, "Ma'am, MRAP took a hit, it isn't moving" he said as Sable turned to see steam emanating from the engine of the armored vehicle, "We might be able to egress on foot before the enemy regroups…"

"No," interjected the Mercenary, "we'd just be cut down," she asserted firmly. There was no real choice in their course of action as she grimaced and looked around at the barely lit Sable Base, shaking her head at how familiar this all felt to their last stand against the IMC. But that was contrasted by rapidly the situation had deteriorated, the lack of a cohesive plan, and the absence of superheroes or super soldiers to tilt the odds. All they could do was dig in their heels, fight back with everything they had, and stubbornly refuse to die. "We must remain here and hold at all costs."

"Captain!" called out an officer, out of breath as he appeared in the doorway of the dispatch room, Yuri spun around as he made his way in, "We have a problem. Crime towers have lots of inmates all converging…"

"Where?" snapped Watanabe as the man stumbled in his speech, "How many?" she asked. But he continued to do his best impression of a fish out of water. "Spit it out, come on," she barked.

"Here," he finally managed, "Over a hundred converging on this precinct." Her eyes widened before an alarm blared throughout the station and she pulled her revolver from her shoulder holster. Pushing past the officer, she made her way to a window and looked outside at the mob below, all clad in orange jumpsuits, wielding whatever makeshift or actual weapons they could get their hands on.

For a brief moment, she considered heading up to her office to grab the Wraith kit, but that thought was abruptly cut short as the glass shattered from a long burst of gunfire that caused everyone to duck. "Controllers, get every patrol back here!" she ordered, "everyone else follow me!" called out the Captain as she ran for the stairs. In the aftermath of the breakout, dozens of civilians had come to the precinct for shelter, thinking it one of the safest places in the city. Usually, they would have been right, but it seemed that the Rikers escapees were hell bent on exacting their brutal strain of revenge on Law Enforcement. Bursting out of the stairwell towards the main lobby, she could see the convicts beating on the entrance as police and civilians alike desperately tried to barricade the same space. "Listen up!" she barked, "If you aren't a cop, you need to move in an orderly fashion upstairs. Murphy, Bressler, Gonzalez! You three take them up to the break rooms on the twelfth floor" she ordered. "Everyone else, we're going to stop those bastards here and now!" she called out, "You're cleared to use lethal force, the rulebook doesn't apply and damn the paperwork. Get to it!"

The response was instantaneous as the near panic-stricken crowd quickly vacated the waiting area and took any possible way out. Sadly, the inmates weren't keen on giving any quarter as they continued to beat mercilessly on the glass and doors. Yuri could do little but watch and pray that the doors held long enough to get the civilians out of the line of fire before all hell broke loose. With each minute that passed, the sporadic and furious bashing seemed to grow more intense as the chatter from the throng of people evaporated as they were moved upstairs. "Captain!" yelled out someone as she whipped her head around to the source, "We have a breach!"

It wasn't hard to see exactly what the 'breach' was; a hole had been bashed in the bullet proof glass as the man responsible stuck his head inside. "I'm gonna gut all you pigs!" he screamed, "Just wait until we get inside. We'll kill every single…"

Yuri didn't allow him to finish, leveling the .357 and firing once, the magnum revolver echoing loudly in the confined space, and that was only slightly less frightening that the way the man's head exploded from the impact of the jacketed hollow point blew his brains out all over the other prisoners behind him. The other cops stared at her in shock as she calmly swung the cylinder out and fished a fresh cartridge from her holster, "If you expect to survive tonight," she began as she replaced the spent one and slammed the cylinder back into place, "then you better be prepared to do that." Panning across the other officers, Yuri saw hesitancy at first, then replaced by resolve as they slowly came around to understand the situation they were confronted with, their backs were well and truly against the wall.

As she made her way back to the central lobby, she heard a tremendous crash as the lights flickered. A moment of gathering her bearings soon lead to her thoughts being drowned out by a furious exchange of gunfire as she upped her pace, sprinting towards the source until she was about to round the corner and a cop staggered around, falling into her arms. The policeman's shirt was soaked with blood as he fell to the ground, eyes glazed over, and a knife driven into his chest. "I wasn't done with yo…" yelled an unfamiliar voice as an orange jump suited man rounded the corner as Watanabe planted her Rhino in his chest and pulled the trigger, ending his life instantly before throwing the corpse to the ground. Stepping over the body without a second thought, she rounded the corner to see a Rikers Island prison van had been driven through the front of her precinct and the inmates responsible poured through the hole. Instinctively, the cop raised her gun at the nearest and fired before smoothly transitioning to the next, then a third, fourth, and fifth inmates as other officers joined in with their side arms.

The bodies began to cover the floor as Yuri dumped the spent cartridges down to join the rest of the brass that covered the tile, the scent of cordite filling the air as Watanabe slammed a speed loader into the gun to have six new rounds on tap. Raising the gun again, she waited for the next wave to pour in when what came through the gaps weren't men, but the NYPDs own tear gas bombs. Gritting her teeth, the Captain squinted as tears began to well up, distorting her vision as she began to cough, trying to cover her mouth in a vain attempt to keep the gas out of her burning throat as her gun wavered when the first Ryker inmate came in and she fired, her shot going wide. The gas mask wearing inmate began waving a shotgun and fired it into the air before Yuri wrestled the gun onto the target and fired, taking satisfaction in the way he spun and dropped before two more took his place.

Yuri tried to call out, but instead of words got a hacking cough as tears welled up in her eyes. Compounding the issues, a commotion from behind her as a handful of cops ran towards her, more gunshots behind them. "Up…up the stairs!" she ordered hoarsely, "Get clear of the gas!" She wasn't sure if anyone heard her, she could barely hear herself, but it seemed that the message got across as the first officers began to turn tail and run. Turning, she emptied the cylinder into the inmates coming up the hall until she had to dash across the lobby to the stairs she had descended half an hour prior.

As soon as she was through, the door was slammed shut and jammed with a fire axe in a move to buy them a little more time. Yuri had doubts about how much as the inmates began to bang on the door and the last of New York's finest began to make haste up the stairs and Yuri dug a folded piece of paper from her jacket pocket that read 'In case of emergency…'

The current situation definitely met that criteria.

At FOB Albany, Silver Sablinova was moving from man to man on the line, offering a word of encouragement as they kept up their watch. The near silence as everyone kept their ears open for any sign of movement in the blackness beyond the white barricades at the perimeter; the sole light came from the spotlight on the watchtower that panned back and forth, looking for anything that wasn't as it should be. She could tell that nerves were fraying, even her own body was twitchy at any unexpected sound, the stress of the tactical and strategic situation, lack of sleep, and earlier fighting all coupled to make the veteran mercenary anxious, despite her placid external features.

When the silence dragging on, her nerves did not calm, rather, it only made her wearier. She expected the inmates to charge headlong into the outnumbered group and try to overwhelm them, the fact that they weren't showed an intelligence and planning that made Sablinova concerned. She had to do something to try and disrupt their plan before it was brought fully to fruition, so with her now at one end of the line she began making her way back down and issuing the same order to every group of men. "On my shot, each man will fire three rounds at whatever looks suspicious to him," she whispered to each group before the word was spread. Taking a deep breath, the Symkarian stood and raised her weapons, taking aim at a garbage truck that would be where she would have troops wait to attack this position. Squeezing the triggers of her pistols, bright red bolts lashed out, soon joined as more leapt from the muzzle of the PMCs guns towards cars, windows, and alleyways as her orders were carried out.

The move garnered a response as rounds flew back at them, flying errantly overhead or landing well short as the unskilled gunmen sprayed and prayed. "Check fire! Only shoot at what you can hit!" she barked out, holding her own fire instead of blazing away at vague shapes in windows. The fire coming back began to slow, but it wasn't directed at the defenders as Sable tried to deduce their strategy. Only when she looked up to see sparks form rounds pinging off the watchtower did she understand. "They're shooting at the light" she said in realization, "Turn that light off!" she ordered over the radio. Only it was too late as a high-powered rifle sounded and the light erupted in a shower of sparks before the entire street was plunged into total darkness.

But the tactical acumen of her foe, or rather the lack of it, soon became apparent. Instead of bounding from cover to cover with over watch to close the distance, the sounds of a full sprint from the dozens of inmates filled the street, mixed with an intermittent shotgun blast as one yelled out "We're gonna leave you in pieces!"

But Sable wasn't about to lay down and let that happen, "Illumination!" she ordered as the grenade launcher came to life, firing bright white burning flare rounds into the streets, lighting up the rushing inmates, "Open fire!" The response was instant as red bolts cut down the charging rushers on the two sides they came from, the DEMG tried to suppress the group, but they came headlong and with reckless abandon through the hail of directed energy bolts.

As the oncoming charge began to subside, it was replaced by another wave of Molotov cocktails, though while one or two came down around the dug in troopers, it was clear they had another target in mind. "Target the throwers!" commanded the Symkarian as she shifted her own fire as burning bottles smashed against the legs of the watch tower, but the gun atop it kept firing, prompting yet another wave to come in as some of the throwers were cut down by accurate Sable International rifle fire. But not all of them, and the inmates had the range as the second wave of flaming cocktails hit the sides of the watchtower until one went through the open gun port and caused the interior to be consumed by fire, the gunner covered in the burning gasoline as he flailed before tumbling down, slamming into the ground with a 'thud' and lying still.

With their defenses slowly being chipped down, the inmates decided to make another headlong charge, but not with shot gunners. This time, the chatter of machine guns filled the air as more massive men emerged from the darkness, their silhouettes illuminated by the muzzle flash of their machine guns as they blazed away at the white clad troopers. But the PMC returned fire, red rounds slamming into the slowly advancing group, singing the white 'X' marks on their chests, but that was all the effect they had. The heavy armor effectively able to withstand the advanced weapons as the streams of fire were raked across the barriers as the defenders were forced to duck into cover.

But they couldn't withstand everything, and it was the grenade launcher on the MRAP that opened fire once more, grenades breaking up the attack as even the heavily armored men couldn't withstand the vehicle mounted weapon. Seizing the opening the troopers resumed the barrage of laser fire, trying to finish off the wounded inmates as the gap between them continued to close. "Say your prayers pussies!" yelled out one of the inmates. Snarling in offense, Sable raised one of her weapons and put a bolt through his kneecap, causing him to stumble before she followed up with a shot to the head that burrowed through the riot helmet he wore and into his skull as he dropped dead.

"They got JD!" cried out another as Silver was forced to duck back down from the concentrated fire directed at her, meaning shit could only grit her teeth as rounds pounded on the barrier she had her back to. "Have a taste of this shit!" shouted the same man as Sablinova looked up to see another Molotov cocktail fly overhead and land on the top of the MRAP. While normally the armored vehicle would have shrugged the improvised weapon off like it was nothing, except the flames reached the ammunition belt for the remote controlled 40mm grenade, detonating the grenades like popcorn in a cooker, the rapid pops utterly wrecking the weapons on the immobile vehicle.

That was the last heavy weapon the defenders had, and with it now out of commission, there was little way to hold back the oncoming storm as the Rikers rallied, trampling over their fallen allies on their way to Albany's perimeter. Pushing their weapons to their breaking point, the Sable Troopers poured fire out into the streets on both fronts as the Rikers returned fire and both the white and orange clad combatants fell from the barrages. But the outnumbered Sable International defenders couldn't sustain the attrition that the seemingly unending waves of prisoners could. "Fall back!" she ordered as she opened fire, hosing down a group with her energy pistols, "bounding retreat!"

Despite the overwhelming odds, Sable International discipline held strong, every other fire team broke ranks and dashed back to the next available cover while those remaining covered their backs. A bounding retreat under fire was one of the most difficult maneuvers to execute, but the Troopers performed it flawlessly, if Sable wasn't so busy fighting for her life she would have beamed with pride. As it was, she was firing one pistol and then the other into the onslaught as the first rushers reached the wall, the man nearest to her smashing his face with the butt of his rifle, staggering him before Sablinova planted a pair of shots in his chest. "2nd unit fall back! Covering fire!" she ordered tersely as the men backpedaled, keeping their weapons up and singing as more and more enemies came over the walls.

"No mercy! No prisoners!" proclaimed one of the inmates as they stormed forwards into the teeth of the hastily reformed defenses. As they kept coming, Sable switched her weapons to fully automatic, forgoing any sense of fire discipline in the hope that a constant stream of fire would offer a veil of safety. For a few brief moments, it did, until one of the pistols beeped angrily, steam venting from it and scorching the mercenaries hand as the useless weapon refused to fire with a crowbar wielding Riker bearing down on her. Bringing the other pistol up, her eyes widened at the appearance of a rifle wielding man as she fired a burst of bolts at the new threat until that gun too overheated. Desperate, she reached back and slung the gun in her right hand like a big league pitcher, the gun flying straight and true and into the man's nose with such force it drove the cartilage into his brain as he fell dead.

No sooner than he had then another Molotov blazed a deadly trail through the night air and landed amongst the retreating Troopers, consuming two as their armor caught fire and, despite their best efforts through erratic moves and rolling across the ground, cooked them alive. The split second Sable spent watching in mute horror was enough for another inmate with a baseball bat to get the drop on her as the weapon was slammed into her back and sent her to the ground as her other pistol was knocked from her grasp. Rolling on her back as she made to defend herself, she saw the bat come down towards her face and instinctively brought her left arm up as her right foot lashed out. Her boot slammed into his groin, causing him to howl in pain and let up on his swing just before it made contact with her arm.

Now it was Sable's turn to cry out in agony as spike of pain shot up her arm, but she quickly grit her teeth and fought on, reaching out with her free hand to grab hold of the bat and try to wrest it from the Riker. But he was naturally stronger and in the better position, easily able to lean down and yank it away, but he was close enough for her to throw a punch with her left. When it connected with his jaw, a fresh spike of anguish flared to life from her previous injury. "It's time to finish this!" snarled the rusher as he smashed the bat into her left shoulder before kicking her ribs. Wincing, she was unable to stop him as he planted a leg across her stomach, restricting her breathing as he jabbed the end of the bat in her chest, knocking her breath from her as she looked desperately for a solution in the seconds she had left. Unable to reach her knife, her hand went for something far less elegant, a fist sized chunk of debris, and slammed the bit of concrete into the man's head, knocking it to the side and ripping a gash down his face, stunning him. But he stubbornly remained planted atop her, and so she hit him again and again, each blow drawing more blood and deforming the point of impact. Even if his face was a bruised and bloody mess, he still had her pinned, and so she rammed her improvised weapon into his throat, crushing his windpipe as he finally dropped the bat and clutched the bloody impact point desperately.

But Sable had more pressing matters than watching, turning over; she crawled with her one good arm towards her sidearm, grabbing it before snapping it up and planting a round through his head, ending his misery prematurely.

"Retreat!" yelled someone, "We'll finish 'em at dawn!" Sablinova watched as the inmates on the outside of the Albany perimeter came to a halt and turned tail, abandoning those that had made it in to be cut down by the remaining defenders. Breathing heavily, the battle weary Symkarian was helped to her feet by one of the dozen remaining fighting troopers, surveying the corpse covered ground with a shake of her head.

Realizing that her men were looking to her for orders, Silver took a deep breath and calmed her nerves, pushing the gruesome sight that surrounded them aside unless she wanted it to become her grave too. "Treat our wounded and strip the dead of supplies," she ordered as she tested her wounded arm, fighting to hold back the pain filled wince that wanted to manifest on her face, "We are not yet finished."

Closing the doors of the Battle Van, Frank hefted the AAC Honey Badger PDW, extending the collapsible stock before chambering the first .300 Blackout cartridges into the integrally suppressed AR-15 derivative. With the AA-12 on his back and M1911 in the holster on his hip, the Punisher reached over and pulled the police radio mounted to his skull adorned vest up to his face, "Captain? Captain Watanabe, are you receiving me?" he asked as he moved up to the corner of the alleyway, PDW up and at the ready.

"Castle? How in the hell…you know what? I don't wanna know," replied Yuriko as Castle began moving down the road towards the Chinatown precinct. Getting closer, he could see the burning wrecks of squad cars out front, along with more than a few dead men in Rikers livery sprawled out on the concrete. "Here's the situation, Rikers inmates have overrun the bottom three floors, four and five are mostly theirs but I have pockets of officers still holding out. What civvies are in here are up on the twelfth floor and most of us are holding out on the seventh floor."

"Understood," he replied gruffly as he poked his head inside the main lobby, seeing one prisoner beating on the corpse of a Cop with a baton before planting three rounds in his back that sent him to the floor before the Punisher put a fourth through his skull. Treading carefully between the bodies, the Marine made his way to a stairwell, nudging the heavily damaged door open with the muzzle of his gun, "I'm inside now, on my way up. I'll try to lend a hand to your men as I see them," he promised before turning on the flashlight attached to the pica tinny rail of his weapon to pierce the darkness before him. "Any idea how many of these assholes we're dealing with?"

"At least 25" replied the Cop tiredly as Castle began to ascend the steps, scanning for any sign of movement or hostile action. "But that's just a guess, could be twice that." Castle grunted at that, if there were that many still left after the slaughterhouse he had just walked through, then somebody had to have been pulling the strings behind the scenes, even if those were thoughts for later. "Don't dawdle Castle, Watanabe out." As the radio went to static, he saw a burning desk blocking his way up the stairway, the impromptu obstacle forcing him to find a different route.

Pressing his ear to the door that led the fourth floor, he heard voices on the other side and promptly kicked the door open and brought the light attached to his gun up to see two shocked inmates standing before him in bloody police jackets before both were cut down by a burst of automatic fire. Moving swiftly, the Punisher put a .300 round through the head of another who rounded the corner ahead of him to investigate before pausing at the corner. "You fucking hear that?" asked a voice as Castle let his rifle fall by his side and slipped a M67 from its pouch. "I swear it came from over there" continued the unknown as the Marine heard footsteps approaching him and pulled the pin. Crouching down, Frank released the spoon to start the fuse before rolling the baseball sized explosive down the darkened hallway as he readied the Honey Badger. A few seconds later he heard "Shit! It's a grenade!" before it detonated, eliciting a few screams before the floor fell silent again and he moved to the next corner, still scanning for any sign of an alternate route upwards.

As he did, there was the distinct chatter of a tinny sounding sub gun as bullets ripped through the wall behind Castle and he dove to the floor, crawling to the nearest cubicle. "You can't hide forever!" taunted one of the Ryker inmates as more gunshots echoed throughout the police station and ripped through the floor, tearing apart anything in their path as Frank kept low, crawling to keep his foes off balance. "Get that fucker outta' cover!" barked one of them as Castle came to a crouch facing the source of the voice.

"You can try," snarled the Scourge of the Underworld as he stood and cut loose with a long burst, dumping the rest of the magazine into the group caught in the harsh glow of the tactical light until the bullets were all spent and he sidestepped behind a wall to reload as rounds peppered his position. "Quit trying to hit me and hit me!" he called out gamely as the rounds poured in until, one by one, all their guns fell silent.

Frank poked his head out, keeping his gun down for this quick peek, "Crap, need more ammo. Cover me!" asked one of the inmates, but the others were similarly afflicted and unable to retaliate as Castle emerged with his weapon up. One by one, each of the men in orange was illuminated by the tac light and felled with cold efficiency. The last one managed to reload and spray off the entire magazine of his MAC-11 in two seconds, nearly every round streaking off errantly as the Punisher merely shrugged off the two that hit the skull on his Kevlar vest and smashed the butt of the gun into his face, driving him to the floor. "Castle!" he exclaimed, "I'm gonna fucking…"

He never got to finish as the Marine fired a round through his head, splattering brain matter across the carpet as the empty magazine dropped from the Honey Badger. "Gonna what?" asked Castle, pausing like he was waiting for the corpse to answer, "Nothing?" A fresh magazine went in and the bolt dropped, "Sounds about right."

Getting back on track, he saw a fire escape outside, and, without any other readily available options, moved towards it. Smashing the glass with his rifle, the Punisher made his way out into the chilly night air and slowly made his way up the metal steps, dousing his tac light to keep a low profile. Looking inside, the lights on this floor worked better, and he could make out a cop's body hanging upside down from the ceiling, arms hacked off as blood pooled on the ground beneath. Slowly drawing his K-Bar, the Marine worked the window open and slowly lifted it, "feels good to have a gun again," rumbled a deep voice as Castle couched down to peer inside.

"Yeah," agreed a second as the first striped a second corpse of gear, "but god, I missed coffee." There was an odd silence between them before the second one spoke up again. "Hey man, you gotta do that right now? I know it's just some pig, but it's fucked up."

"You don't like it then you can fuck off," spat the first angrily, still helping himself to the officers equipment and prompting the second to slink off, stolen police rifle resting on his shoulder as Castle carefully continued raising the window. When it was open enough, he slowly slipped his armored bulk through the gap before pressing his hand over the inmate's mouth and plunging the knife into his neck and tearing it out before gently easing the body to the ground. Sheathing the bloody blade, the Marine took a moment to close the dead cop's eyes before unslinging the Honey Badger and making his way back to where he knew the stairwell was, not surprised the sounds of echoing gunfire got louder the closer he got.

Another change was that, compared to the lobby, there were fewer dead inmates the higher he went and more dead police. He was here to even those scores, starting with the bunch he noted going through one of the desks and snapped the PDW up, the suppressed weapon hissed as it angrily spat out .30 caliber slugs that tore through the assembled men. When the mag ran dry, he dropped it and reached for a replacement only to find the pouches empty. Tossing the weapon that was now as useful as a paperweight aside, he saw movement ahead of him as an orange clad man scampered behind the desk. "It's the fucking Punisher!" he shouted, Castle presumed, into a radio, "The Punisher is here!"

So much for the element of surprise groused Frank internally as he drew his Colt .45 and planted a round in the man's head before holstering the pistol and unslinging the Atchisson Assault Shotgun, the same weapon he had used earlier in the night. Pulling the charging handle back, the first buckshot packed shell seating into the firing chamber as he advanced towards the stairwell. But the door swung open as inmates poured out, hosing down the entire floor with lead as the Marine ducked into a supply closet while the gunfire pounded his eardrums and the office equally. "We're going to kill your ass Castle!" shouted one of them as the fire subsided.

Looking out, he saw a few officers gruesomely arranged at desks, pens and scissors buried in their eyes and throats as Castle's rage burned in his belly. "I'm not afraid of death assholes!" he shouted back, "Death is a weakness of men. I am the Punisher!" roared Castle as he leaned out with the automatic shotgun up as it thundered out his second response, throwing up spent red shells as the weapon kicked at his shoulder and the small pellets tore through the flesh and bone arrayed against him, cutting down those in front with little issue. Not letting off the trigger, the Punisher emerged, snarling face illuminated only by the muzzle flashes from the AA-12 as he advanced, throwing out walls of buckshot and smoke to exact vengeance on the slain officers until the 20 round drum was empty.

Discarding it, he slammed a fresh one in, grimly noting that he hadn't encountered any pockets of cops that were still alive as he shook that thought from his head as he moved into the stairwell. Shotgun scanning, he saw a handful of bodies, inmates this time as he came to a stop at the sixth floor, noticing how the door had been beaten off its hinges as he poked his head around the corner. "I'm takin you down!" shouted the giant man hefting an equally large machine gun and police riot shield he got from god knows where as rounds tore through the wall and one clipped his armored vest as he dropped to the floor, reaching back to pull out a smoke grenade.

Knowing his shotgun couldn't punch through the shield, Castle yanked the pin and tossed the cylinder in, waiting with grit teeth as rounds passed overhead until he felt confident enough to crouch run through the doorway. Making it through unscathed as he threw his body behind a toppled over soda machine, the only vaguely solid cover he could make out through the smoke. Raising his shotgun, he fired a few rounds blindly into the smoke to try and force the Riker to let up.

When he did, the Punisher rolled out of his cover, smoothly coming to his feet as he cut loose with the scattergun on full auto, chewing up cubicles as the buckshot shredded the Kevlar vest the Gunner was wearing, but not making it through to the man inside. That didn't mean the inmate didn't feel the assault, he staggered and tried to bring his shield around, but his arm took a round and was only attached by a few strands of surviving flesh as his gun clattered to the floor. What finally did the prisoner in was a few pellets that went into the ammo can on his back, managing to ignite whatever was inside as the contents cooked off, cracking like firecracker packed in bubble wrap. Soon, his entire backpack was in flames as he screamed frantically and tried to get it off, but with only one arm it was neigh impossible, and Frank watched unsympathetically as the fire spread and the inmate succumbed to the heat.

Looking down at the empty shotgun, he slung it back over his shoulder and retrieved the fallen man's M249 SAW, seating the partially loaded belt of 5.56 into the tray before pulling back the charging handle. With his new weapon, he made his way back to the staircase and ascended to the seventh floor. He brought his radio to his face, "Watanabe" he said, "I'm on the seventh floor and coming in, check your fire."

"Copy that, come in nice and easy Castle" she urged before asking, "Are you alone?"

"Yeah," he answered sadly, "I didn't find anyone, sorry" he said honestly before slowly twisting the doorknob and pushing the door open. Weapon down, he stepped in to be met by no less than four cops pointing their service weapons at him.

"Weapons down!" barked Captain Watanabe as the LEO emerged with her Magnum in hand, "He's the source of all the noise down below." That seemed to get the other officers calmed down, pistols lowering as they visibly relaxed. "What's the situation down there?"

"Floors four, five, and six are mostly cleared out" he reported, "Might be a few left on the lower levels."

"Ozaki, go take a few guys down and check it out, be careful" ordered Yuri as some of the cops went forwards towards the stairwell and Castle was lead back. "Thanks for the help," continued the Captain, though she seemed none too pleased to have to say it, Frank didn't care however, he was there to punish the prisoners, and he had done just that. "Don't expect this to become a regular thing, but…"

"Shouldn't you have called in the kid?" he asked suddenly as she looked away, "Where is he?"

"I don't know," admitted Watanabe, "he went missing right when the breakout happened, still haven't been able to raise him." The Punisher frowned; he would have to put in overtime then with all the scum now roaming the streets. Coming to a stop inside a room that had become an impromptu supply room with ammo, food, water, and other necessities to be distributed to various cops. "If you need something then help yourself" she said as Frank grabbed one of the water bottles and downed a third of it in one gulp.

"Thanks," he grunted as he noticed some odd items that didn't seem to fit in. "What's with those masks?" he asked.

"Oh, there was a chemical attack at Times Square" answered Yuri lowly, "We don't know who or how, but somebody got their hands on Devil's Breath and released it. No demands, no warnings, first cases are starting to show up at hospitals and it's spreading as we speak, Sable's been ordered to lock down the island to try and contain it. But…it's only a matter of time until everyone is infected."

Castle was silent, his grip tightening on his SAW and trigger finger beginning to itch once again. "There a connection?" he asked.

"Maybe," said the cop tiredly, "been a lot of more pressing issues for me to deal with."

The Marine grunted in understanding, but now there was a bit less now. "You should suit up in that fancy tech the kid gave you. Get out on the streets; help get things under control out there."

But she shook her head, "No" she said firmly, "Someone needs to enforce law and order, keep the system running if we're going to get through this, this isn't the time to go off on a crusade," she retorted. "I can't abandon my station, my officers, and the civilians I've got here."

Frank understood, respected, and accepted that reasoning, but he couldn't go along with it. "Well I can do more out there," he said as he turned away.

"More punishing?" asked Yuri skeptically.

Frank shrugged, "Yeah," he answered gruffly as he moved to get back to work.

Looking up, Silver Sable could see the first hints of the rising sun peek over the buildings surrounding FOB Albany, knowing that the inmates would come any moment now. Truthfully, the dozen or so Sable International troopers still standing were in no position to ward off another assault, many were wounded, and all were tired. Silver's arm ached as she clutched at a replacement pistol, fresh energy cartridges loaded, but those were a precious resource. And that prompted a question, "Sergeant," she said lowly as the Trooper next to her turned, "What is the ammunition status of the men?"

"Low ma'am" he replied, "We're all on our last power cells, most of those are around half charge or lower" revealed the trooper. Indeed, there was little good news that was forthcoming, "Maybe a handful of grenades between us all, no heavy weapons either," he reminded. Even if they were outnumbered and outgunned, Silver Sablinova had no intention of letting this position fall.

"Tally ho!" called out the lookout over the radio, the trooper posted in the burned-out ruins of the watchtower, giving a commanding view of the surrounding area. "Enemy formation, estimate company strength, to the west!" he reported "Range is 50 meters. No other contacts."

The attack was imminent, and once it began it would steamroll the Troopers under the immense weight of such an onslaught. But despite their disadvantages in terms of firepower, numbers, and position, there was one thing the white clad men had over their foes: Discipline. Sablinova had always been told by her men that they would follow her to the gates of hell, and it was time to put that to the test. "Fix bayonets!" called out the Symkarian, provoking every man on the line to swing their helmets to look at her in shock and confusion. "Do you wish to die hiding, or die fighting?" she asked, giving them a moment to ponder the question before repeating her earlier command, "Fix bayonets!"

One by one, each Trooper reached into his kit and retrieved a handle shaped object before locking it in place on the lug of his rifle, the handle remaining fixed under the elongated muzzle of the energy weapons. "Arm bayonets!" she ordered once they were all affixed, and as one, the handles came to life, projecting 8-inch-long energy blades that glowed a sickly, demonic red that reflected off the white armor worn by their wielders. The blades hummed with anticipation, like they couldn't wait to be used and taste flesh as heat radiated from the gruesome melee weapons. "Stay low and out of sight!" she ordered, "We will draw them in before we crush them!" Looking out, Sable could see the first inmates emerge from the morning mist, standing proudly and without fear, confident in an easy victory. Sablinova couldn't suppress a small smile at the prospect of proving them wrong.

They came closer, the Sable men staying down behind the ruined barricades as Silver felt the adrenaline begin to flow, her heart beating faster as she held her nerve, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Slowly, she watched the escaped prisoners weave their way through the ruined cars until they emerged into the open ground just beyond the perimeter and let out a breath, knowing that it was now or never. "Over the top!" called out the Symkarian, "Charge!"

With a unifying roar, the Sable International troopers stood, leveling their weapons as they fired, unleashing a barrage of red bolts into the unsuspecting inmates, cutting down the front rank of men with their opening shots. In the critical second that followed, the undisciplined prisoners choose neither fight nor flight, but froze in the face of Sable aggression. That moment of hesitation would prove costly as Silver triggered her twin pistols, ignoring the spike of pain in her left arm as she charged forwards, leading her men into the teeth of the enemy. Before the inmates could fully react, the charging mercenaries were upon them, one tried to bring his gun up to fire at Silver, but she merely kicked it away before planting one of her pistols on his forehead and pulling the trigger. All around her, energy bayonets sliced through Kevlar, prison jumpsuits, flesh, and bone with little difficulty, impaling the inmates before the blades were ripped back out leaving gaping and hemorrhaging wounds in their wake.

As a collective, the inmates folded like cheap suits as they broke whatever semblance of ranks they had and turned to flee. "Get after them!" cried Sable as she planted a shot in one's back, watching him fall face first on the concrete as the other were drive back. In their terror, the inmates pushed and shoved each other aside, those that fell either tried to surrender and got a rifle stock or made a vain effort to fight back and got a bayonet until they were driven back past the burned out cars, some tried to stand there and were cut down against the vehicles. "Platoon halt!" ordered Sablinova as the attack let up, even if the inmates kept running away from the bloody and filthy white armored soldiers and the rising sun at their back.

Taking a breath, Sable looked back at the battlefield, saddened by the loss of life before steeling herself, she was one of the lucky ones, she had survived.

Cooper's Logbook – Shotgun: Atchison AA-12

Also known as the Atchisson Assault Shotgun or Auto Assault shotgun, this later one, plus the 12-gauge shell it fires gives it the name 'AA-12', is one of the most formidable handheld weapons in the world. Developed and refined over a period of more than 20 years and featuring more than 188 small changes and improvements over the original design that was patented in 1972, the result is an ergonomic, reliable, and formidable weapon. Gas operated with a proprietary gas system that absorbs 80% of the recoil, with a further 10% getting syphoned off by the recoil spring, the shooter only feels about 10% of the recoil of each shot. This, when combined with the rather low 300 rounds per minute cyclic rate, means that even a fairly novice shooter can accurately direct the fusillade of 12-gauge fire wherever they please.

And make no mistake about how much firepower that is, with 8 round box mags, or preferably 20 or 32 round drums, the AA-12 can sling a lot of lead. Using that big 32 round drum and flechette ammunition, the Atchisson can send 800 potentially life threatening projectiles downrange in about six seconds. If that isn't enough firepower, or if you need more range, you can load in FRAG-12 rounds, each of which has just about three and a half grams of A5 explosive, or RDX. This means your fully automatic shotgun can now beat up light vehicles, soft cover, and make even more noise.

Unlike most auto shotguns, the AA-12 works from an open bolt, but the weapon is designed to limit stoppages with its rugged stainless steel frame. Clocking in at just over 10 pounds, which isn't that bad all things considered, and a reasonably handy 38 inches in length (not too far under a meter), the weapon is bulky, but for that bulk you get a weapon that doesn't require much fuss or cleaning and brings unparalleled firepower to the table. It is no surprise it has found its way into the armories of several groups and individuals that favor raw firepower over efficiency.

Closing Notes: I'll admit, I really enjoyed this one, but it was also a surprise to learn just how hard it is to write a good bayonet charge. Sablinova's Last Stand was inspired just as much by the Battle of Rorke's Drift as Little Round Top, and I actually had this chapter in my notes as titled 'Rorke's Drift', the Sabaton song. But it was my decision to have that last countercharge that swung it to the Iced Earth classic. Hopefully that desperation came through in this chapter, since the game always alluded to it but I wanted to show it, or at least part of what happened in that 24 hour timeskip and to show that, yes, while elected leaders my have their thumbs up their asses, there will always be brave men and women who step up to the plate to do the right thing.

I feel the need to reiterate that I'm not trying to offer any commentary about any events that have happened, are happening, or might happen in the future.

Though, as always, feel free to leave a review on how you liked seeing these supporting characters get forcibly shoved to the forefront, I can't say that I'll be doing a lot of it, but I think it was a good change of pace. Next chapter will continue this trend, albeit with those we haven't caught up with yet. If you like this slight detour from the events of the game then let me know.

Next chapter, the grey sky, it weeps over the fading glow. Are we The Lucky Ones?

Stay Frosty, Misfit Delta out.