The dull roar of mass rifle-fire and the krump of exploding grenades washes over me as a minor battle breaks out a handful of kilometers to the east, the noise making my heart beat faster. I turn my gaze north at the city-fortress that dominates the landscape of this ancestors-forsaken patch of earth, eyes tracing its high towers and the cannon sited at their peaks, and then glance behind me. Five troopers, as virtually naked in their skintight jumpsuits as I am, lounge among the ruins of a small house, snatching some sleep or just enjoying each other's company. My squad. Three loud cracks are audible over the general sounds of combat and I press my rifle's scope against my eye, shifting to the east as I search for the battle.
Through the scope I can see the city's defenders, ragtag militia who have somehow held us off for months. I can just see helmets bobbing as their owners hurry along trenches, see a few soldiers tumbling as they climb up into the open. A fourth crack echoes and I spot an officer crumple, those around her frozen by the sudden death.
"Right girls. Diversion's started and it's time for us to move."
In an instant my squad is on their feet, eager and straining to be unleashed. I run an eye over each, watching them shift under my dominant gaze, before a feral grin appears on my face.
We lope along the edge of the city's layered defences, the mud smeared over our jumpsuits distorting our silhouettes. Our rifles whisper whenever we encounter the enemy, we leave a trail of shapely corpses in our wake, and are in the shadows of the city walls by the time the diversionary battle winds down. Other commandos have tried this route before, the bodies of ours and theirs mingled in death, but we succeed, a near-silent volley cutting down the squad assigned to protect the sewer drain. The head of the last soldier snaps back, neat hole punched into her forehead, and she drops, ignominiously faceplanting into the mud.
"Boomer, get rid of the grate. Everyone else, look defensive."
With relish Boomer, tall and slender, slathers her own brand of explosive around the edges of the grate. She turns away when the explosive goes off, it's bright against the dark of the tunnel beyond and the stone around it, before pressing herself against the wall and pointing her rifle into the tunnel.
It takes some time to walk the length of the sewer tunnel, splashing through ill-coloured slurry that rises to mid-shin, until we reach a treatment plant maintenance hatch. Shortie is already in the lead, her delicious curves jiggle as she shimmies up the ladder the hatch is at the top of, and after a careful shot she puts a booted foot into the hatch's center. It violently swings open, Shortie following, and bursts of light illuminate the tunnel as a firefight erupts. Elegance scrambles up, firing the moment she's on her feet, and I'm next up.
Nearly two-dozen soldiers are sheltering in the large room as I enter, all in some sort of cover behind steaming vats and control panels. Shortie is against a steel column, excitement in her eyes as bullets spark off the metal, and Elegance is stretched out to her full length on the floor, heedless of the danger she's in. I know the feeling, conditioning pressing me to attack, and I softly moan as my vibe-implant reacts to each pull of my rifle's trigger. There's a brief cry as Elegance downs an opponent, either from her or them, and I surge past, throwing myself into relative safety as Boomer enters the chamber.
Almost instantly she uses her grenades, plumes of muck and pulverized stone rising to splatter the ceiling, but another enemy falls silent. We start leapfrogging each other, firing short bursts that keep us on the edge and our enemies' heads down. We lose Havoc just after crossing half the chamber though, she doubles over in orgasm and then slumps with a gurgle, blood spreading from beneath her body, and Boomer throws another round of grenades with a pained yell. We scatter back into cover, I spot Shade hauling herself onto a gantry that overlooks the chamber, and lean from cover, taking aim at a pretty young thing before pulling the trigger. She staggers, hand touching with incredulity a growing patch of crimson, and I see her lift her pleading gaze even as she falls from sight.
We manage to advance further, the incoming fire is definitely lessening, and I'm just rising from behind a mistreated console when I let out a grunt. A burning sensation occupies my stomach and, still half-exposed, I am forced back by a series of impacts to my breasts. I gracefully topple onto my side, the shock of the impact when I hit the floor reverberates through my bones, and I can feel the blood oozing out, feel it gathering around me...
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