Chapter Six:
"What the fuck was that?" Cash snapped, his voice echoing throughout the ancient factory. "Someone explain to me what happened there, because I have no fucking idea."
Dex nodded. "Apart from the obvious it would seem the village elder neglected to mention that part of the journey to us."
"Intentionally?" Jet asked.
"Possibly," Dex replied, going over an assessment of his equipment and weaponry as he sat with his back against the wall.
"Yes," Grim replied. Standing away from the camp he turned to face them, the light of the lantern in the middle of the floor casting shadows across his scarred and battle-hardened features. "It was a trap," he said matter-of-factly. Wes went to speak, but Grim raised a hand to silence him. "I know Jax Caskar well. We served together in the same unit for a number of years. He's a cunning and ruthless opponent. The old man gave up information too eagerly, it was too easy. Why? Because Caskar had convinced him to do so, and instructed him to give us no information about obstacles and threats we would encounter along the way," Grim said, his impassive expression becoming a sneer of contempt.
"But why do that and allow us to follow him? Why not have the old man tell us the wrong directions that leads to us getting hopelessly lost?" Cram asked.
Grim shook his head. "The old man wouldn't agree to that. There's too much of a chance we'd catch on and find our way back to him, and he wouldn't want an angry team of commandos to deal with," Grim explained. "Caskar wants us to follow him so he can lure us into a trap and finish us off himself," he added. "He reasoned that command would send the team of his greatest rival to hunt him down, and he set about preparing for that by luring us into a battlefield of his choosing and making us run a gauntlet of sorts."
Jet, who was applying a solvent to his damaged armour, looked up. "So, there's more to come?" The solvent would fill the gouges in his armour and harden into metal as it oxidised, providing makeshift repairs for the damage done.
"Yes, Caskar's probably been planning this since he crashed. Even going the way of Gorgotha's lair was intentional to throw something in our path. He's alone and prepared. Probably been conserving his own power as much as possible and saving his ammo," Grim said.
"Meanwhile we've dived in after him packs raging at full capacity and blasting away at everything that moved, draining our equipment, power supply and ammunition in the process," Cash said, catching on.
The lieutenant nodded.
"Then he can choose when and where we fight, set a trap, wait for us to arrive and finish us off," Dex concluded, before adding. "Whatever injuries or possible fatalities having been sustained along the way giving him a bonus advantage."
"Correct," Grim confirmed. "I don't know what else he has in store for us, but I guarantee it won't be pretty. So, we have to play it smart, keep on our toes and be ready for anything."
"Couldn't we find another route around the directions we were given?" Wes asked. "You know, act like we've fallen for his ruse, but then go an alternative route, come around and hit him from where he doesn't expect it. Beat him at his own game," he suggested.
"Negative," Grim said. "The risk of getting lost in unknown territory is too great. It would be too easy to think we know where we are, take a wrong turn and end up hopelessly lost. We have no choice but to play his game, as much as I hate it. There's no other option available to us."
Their situation wasn't looking good. With their power supplies falling to 60% battery power, equipment beginning to run scarce and ammunition now being rationed Revenant Squadron's capacity to engage in a pitched battle had been compromised. Their suits of armour had been sparking, hissing, smoking, and crackling for several hours after the battle as they all worked on repairing the damage sustained. Luckily apart from some bruises, aches and minor cuts and abrasions they were unharmed, but their armour had taken a significant amount of damage. Grim was glad he had insisted they all bring additional ammo, equipment and supplies. It weighed them down a bit more than was comfortable, but it had been worth it. In unknown, unpredictable situations such as this it paid to be prepared for any situation that could arise.
"We move out in six hours," Grim said. "Get whatever rest you can because you're going to need it. We're hot on Caskar's trail and we can't let up now, every moment we delay gives him more time to prepare and thus, more of an advantage."
After the exertions of the day they were all exhausted, sore and mentally drained. With Jax Caskar ready and waiting for them, and unknown challenges and horrors lying in wait they would need all the rest they could get.
Grim lay down and rested his head on his supply pack, using it for a makeshift pillow. The hard ground and armour didn't make for a comfortable bed, but after twenty-five years in the military he was used to sleeping in uncomfortable places. He had no idea what time or day it was. He had deactivated his suit's clock upon setting off on the mission, in order to better adapt to the eternal night of Downtown. A troublesome anxiety tugged at his mind, ever since they had cleared the territory of the flying monstrosities and he had realised they were being led into a trap it had been nagging at him. He was worried for himself, worried for the success of the mission, and most of all, worried about his men. Pushing the negative thoughts aside he tried to ignore the anxiety scratching at the edges of his consciousness, the foreboding sense of doom that penetrated the atmosphere of Downtown becoming more prevalent as he felt it like a physical weight pushing down upon him. With a scowl he rolled over onto his side and focused on more pleasant thoughts as he closed his eyes, relaxed, and gradually drifted off to sleep.
Cash felt like he had barely closed his eyes before he heard an alarm go off, startling him awake as the signal blared inside his helmet. It wasn't that loud, but in the complete silence it was almost deafening. After the incident with the flying beasts he had opted to sleep with his helmet on, so he was ready for action at a moment's notice, just in case. He groaned and dragged himself up into a sitting position, the alarms from the other commandos echoing throughout the empty warehouse as they were also roused from their sleep. Much to their chagrin their commander only allowed them a few minutes to quickly eat and prepare to move out, insisting that they get going asap and resume the hunt for Caskar.
With a sigh Dex hauled himself to his feet, joining the squad as they moved out, taking up the rear of the formation to watch their six. Despite his tiredness it had taken him a few hours to get to sleep, the four hours of restless sleep he did manage to get not leaving him feeling too rested as his muscles and bones still ached from the previous battle.
They marched along, constantly on the lookout for trouble as they followed the directions given to them by the villagers. They had to stop a few times to clarify which path they were to take as the reality of the terrain and environment was very different to the map Grim had drawn from the directions he had received. The map only consisted of the path they were to take and the major landmarks they would encounter along the way. Grim wasn't even sure they were going the right way, but they had little choice but to continue and hope they were where they were supposed to be.
Their journey came to an abrupt halt when they came to a fork in the road, the landmark being signified by a huge, towering building that stretched up into the abyssal darkness. Grim recognised the skyscraper as the one they wanted by the massive, ancient sign promoting Coca-Cola. He referred to the map on his HUD and noted they were to take the left-hand road here, the only problem being there were two roads that went left. One at their 9 o'clock and another at their 11. The old man hadn't specified which of the two was correct. They spent some time deliberating which path to take before Grim finally settled on the road at their 9 o'clock. The way the elder had given the directions made him settle upon that path, although with some uncertainty. He had told them to take a turn left, the other path was more straight ahead than a turn, due to the angle of the roadway. It made sense, and he hoped he hadn't misinterpreted the man's fractured speech. Unsure of whether they had made the right choice, the commandos ventured forth down the road.