LIGHTNOVELONLINE Chapter 75 - Fox on the Run!
Superstition is the religion of feeble minds - Edmund Burke
Operation Golden Goose (D+1 hour)
Rain pattered down on the roof. The occasional drop found its way between the gaps and holes in the roof.
Aurora was crouched down on a moldy green carpet. Water had soaked her dress where she was kneeling.
Fawk peeped out between the cracks of the cabin.
“What ’cha got, Sister Aurora?” Fawk asked.
Her pupils contracted as she squinted into the muted light piercing through the overcast sky. The thin morning rays did little to cut through the dense fog that blanketed the forest floor like an oppressive shroud.
“Aurora,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the suffocating silence. “Sniper, in the pine tree.” She pointed off in the distance with her pinky, the small gesture she hoped wouldn’t create any sudden movement. “It’s a clone with a combat II rating. Dangerous and highly capable.”
“Odd,” he muttered, scanning the area she indicated. “The trail is clear. No debris, not even a stray twig. It must be a trap.”
Suddenly, a chain of deafening explosions shattered the stillness. The ground shook violently, trees swayed, and the forest seemed to scream in agony as the blast waves tore through it. The concussive force hit them like a physical blow, rattling the walls of the cabin and threatening to bring the entire structure down around them.
Before they could recover, the steady bark of a machine gun erupted just beyond the edge of the swamp, the bullets tearing through the trees and the air, shredding the fragile remnants of peace. Aurora's heart raced as she pressed herself against the cabin wall, her mind racing for a plan. They were surrounded, and time was running out as the gunfire grew louder. A stray bullet hit the side of the wall sending splinted wood through the room.
“Send Sister Raine up, I could use her assistance in finding the sniper’s real position,” Aurora said.
Fawk looked up from his prone position on the floor.
“Sister Raine has tried, but every time she connects to the clouds, the rain stops. It’s as if nature has rejected her,” Fawk said.
“Then we need to move, it’s time we use the emergency route and…”
“The underground escape route has been compromised. Yellow Bird saw it in a vision and Brother Grubb confirmed it. We found two of our escape tunnels crammed with demon spice grenades and vorp mines,” he whispered.
Her eyes widened and her hands trembled. Fawk stood up from his position and held her close.
“You need to get ahold of yourself and fly to the Nebula Kings, tell them to expect a visit from us,” he said. “We’re coming in hot.”
She forced a smile to her lips and nodded.
“We're bolting in five,” he said keeping out of view from the window.
Aurora crawled out of the room and avoided from behind seen through the windows. After reaching the back room, she pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She closed her eyes, and her bones began to crack and pop as she changed into a bird with a long-split tail and grey body.
With a flutter of her wings, she hopped on the window ledge and flew north.
***
Perched high in a tree, Jackal held his single bolt-action rifle steady. The barrel pointed toward the sky, and he ran his finger across the front sight post, which glowed with a dull green light.
He spotted the bird take flight and quickly radioed his team, “Baby bird has left the nest. Permission to engage.”
Mange’s voice crackled through the earpiece, “Just wound her, we need her scared.”
Jackal’s eyes narrowed as his vision locked onto Aurora’s flight path. He calculated the air currents, her speed, and the distance. With a deep breath, he pulled the trigger. The bullet whizzed through the air and clipped her wing. Aurora faltered, losing speed but managing to stay airborne.
“Release barrier ward,” Jackal commanded, tapping the front sight post.
Instantly, the ear-piercing report of the rifle echoed from a point 300 meters away, masking his true location.
***
Inside the cabin, a woman with short blue hair and a silk dress collapsed to the floor, clutching her necklace tightly.
“Sister Aurora has been wounded,” she said, looking up at Grubb with wide eyes.
“Get up, we need to move now,” Grubb ordered, his face slick with sweat.
In a harness strapped to his back, Yellow Bird dangled limply, her arms draped around his neck.
From around the corner, a tall man with almond-brown hair and dirty camouflage pants sauntered into the room, chewing on a bagel. He glanced out the window, then back at Grubb and the blue-haired woman inching toward the back door.
“Get away from the window, Brother Kerosene,” Grubb hissed, his voice tight as he rushed his words.
“The enemy’s just trying to smoke us out. We’re better off here,” Kerosene said nonchalantly, digging into his pocket.
He tossed a handful of lint onto the floor and chuckled, “You two soft-eyed does are just as paranoid as Stampede and Fawk.”
He threw a piece of bagel into the air, but before it could fall, a bullet tore through it, and Kerosene crumpled to the floor, a gaping hole in his head. His face turned pale, and his body disappeared.
Another shot rang out, this time from 50 meters away, just behind the hedge row.
“Out the back, out the back!” Grubb yelled, his voice cracking with panic.
Sweat poured from his face as the crackle of gunfire grew closer, echoing through the cabin like a death knell. Grubb tightened his grip on Yellow Bird and pushed the blue-haired woman ahead of him, their hearts pounding in unison as they scrambled for the back door, every second a precious gamble against the inevitable.
***
“Two birds fleeing the back of the nest,” Jackal said over his mic.
Mange replied, with gunfire coming across the earpiece, “Confirmed, do they have the target?”
“Two shakes of a lamb’s tail,” Jackal replied.
He adjusted his scope, his breath catching as the larger target came into view. A shifting mosaic of colors, the figure's outline wavered like a mirage, blurring into the background. The object strapped to its back was a pixelated mess, impossible to decipher—a disquieting unknown that sent a chill through him.
Jackal's heart pounded as he swung his focus to the thinner figure. Her form was equally obscured, shrouded in a haze that made her features, apart from an hourglass figure, unreadable—every second ticked by with mounting dread. Whatever they were carrying, it was a mystery he couldn’t afford to ignore—and he had no idea what he was up against or if they were a distraction.
“Varmints have a Fumogeno Obscure spell activated, can’t confirm they gots Yellow Bird,” he said.
“Because you have other problems,” shouted a voice from below.
The tree where Jackal was perched trembled violently as a burly man with fists the size of elephant feet hammered at its base. Each impact sent splinters of wood cascading into the air.
The brute paused.
Then his hands morphed into grotesque, oversized hatchets, and his form grew taller, his back arching as thick, black hair sprouted from his skin. His face contorted grotesquely as a bear-like muzzle pushed out, transforming him into a nightmarish beast with features borrowed from various semi-recognizable predators.
With a grim expression, Jackal unfastened a handheld olive-green box with a handle from his belt. His fingers fumbled as he gripped the device and squeezed it, releasing and tightening his hold three times in quick succession, producing a sharp “clack, clack, clack” with each squeeze.
Below, the ground erupted in a storm of steel BBs, like a swarm of enraged hornets attacking a bear. Mud and wood fragments exploded in all directions, creating a chaotic melee of debris and shrapnel.
Jumping from the tree and activating his Feather Step ability, Jackal rode the blast wave away from the druid.
“I reckon stirring in a few DU-BBs into mine my Wasp Mine might hurt a smidge, you lumberin' old grizzly,” Jackal said as he hit the soft, muddy ground. “More growl than brains.”
A pair of bloodied hands erupted from the ground, sending Jackel stumbling backward. A sharp claw raked across his leg, tearing through his pants and slicing into his flesh. As mud and grime cascaded off, the behemoth heaved itself from the earth.
The creature's hulking mass of muscle, spiked hair, and deadly claws loomed over Jackal, who grimaced in pain and hobbled to the side, favoring his injured leg.
“You make Stampede mad,” he said as serrated teeth grew from his fingertips. “Time to make a little man go squish.”
Jackal tapped this earpiece and said, “I’m in a bad box, could use the cavalry ‘bout this time.”
The sizzle of electric static answered his request.
A pair of black antennae sprouted from Stampede’s back, crackling with blue electric sparks that danced and twisted between them.
“Ain’t nobody coming to help,” Stampede taunted with a deep laugh. “It’s just you and me, little man.”
Jackal reached for the emerald brooch on his cloak, his gaze locked on the dog’s onyx eyes. With a solemn kiss on the dog’s forehead, he tossed the brooch over his shoulder.
“Then let’s dance,” Jackal said, steeling himself for the confrontation.
***