‘War is the continuation of politics through other means.’ The quote was from an 18th century general named Carl Von Clausewitz. Although Marcus hadn’t read his works entirely, he found this quote was applicable to any conflict since the dawn of time. Tribes, kingdoms and empires always had something to fight for, either resources, influence, or safety.

Marcus guessed that the reason the SRT Clan was attacking TAS was because of their territorial holdings, whether it contained resources they wanted, or it was the territory itself, the reason the two groups were fighting was between the two clans. For Marcus, it was for his own personal interest tied to the survival and continued rule of the Chief under his own station. He wanted to keep his position as the sole middleman for their main product, the tea, to the surface. If the SRT wins here, they would be the next target and would be powerless to resist. It was better to fight them here, while they have locked horns with another group of their own weight.

They found the building the sniper was shooting from easily. The rounds impacting the building coming from the direction of the factory were an easy indication, with the number of bored players keeping it locked down being another.

It was a four story square concrete structure. The side facing the factory was pockmarked with bullet impacts and a few large holes were punched into the concrete face where explosives had been shot. A loud boom echoed through the building. In retaliation, the TAS holed up in the factory complex replied with their own burst of heavy machine gun fire peppering the building.

It was unlikely that someone had been killed in the brief exchange and Marcus guessed it was their own way of keeping each other on their toes.

Using the alleys and buildings, Marcus managed to sneak into the building by entering the adjacent one and entered through the upper windows. He had to lighten up his load-out to the bare minimum. He had secured his VSK in a hidden location in favor of his DT MDR, and took with him three magazines and a few grenades to be able to confidently make the jump between the rooftop and into the window. To cover his entrance, he timed his jump into the building as another quick burst of heavy machine gun fire hit the building. Unfortunately, he jumped short and landed wrong against the windowsill, skinning his knee against hard concrete and he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from crying out.

Recovering from the pain, Marcus got up and scanned his surroundings. He confirmed that his infiltration was undetected as no one came to check. The building, it turned out, was an old, dilapidated apartment complex. The halls opened up to small 25 square feet rooms and shared kitchens. The building likely catered to workers and technicians that had been working in the nearby factory complex.

Marcus hid in one of the rooms. It had a bed, a small table with a few books left behind, and a single wardrobe. “In position.” He reported through the radio.

“Affirmative. Operation is a go.” Ylenka replied through the radio. She was leading her own squad. Ylenka had been mum on their achievements in the game so far, only for Razer to let slip that they had established a solid reputation in the region. Now, Marcus was going to see whether they would measure up to it as they were tasked with taking out the Sniper’s security detail or at the very least, keep them busy.

“Commencing.” A voice called through the radio. That belonged to Horn with the HK MSG90, the accurized version of the HK G3, and who was the team’s designated marksman. His part as the overwatch also meant that he could pick the juiciest target and make sure that they were out from the start of the fight.

A gunshot sounded from outside. Followed by panicked shouting as more guns entered the fray. Marcus was silent as he listened to boots thundering downstairs to help with the defense, along with more shouting and asking where the fire was coming from.

The SRT clan members reacted quickly. Spotters found the building that Ylenka and the rest of the Honest Scribes were shooting from and retaliated with their own. Soon, a quick skirmish developed, with the two sides shooting at each other within the safety of their covers.

Marcus waited for a few more seconds to make sure that the firefight was in full swing. In the distance, another firefight was occurring, which meant that the TAS was keeping another position busy, trying to bait the SRT’s quick reaction force to another location.

“Watch your sectors! Make sure they don’t try to flank us!” A shout echoed through the building.

“Fuck. Don’t peek through that window, they have it locked down! Medic. I need a medic!” Another voice replied.

“Where’s Steel! We need his machinegun online now!”

“Steel is down. I saw his head pop after his shields were shattered.”

“One is moving up. He just crossed the street! I don’t have an angle!”

‘Time to go.’ Marcus thought to himself and moved out of the room. Gunfire erupted above him as he moved up the floors, rifle at the shoulder. Up one floor, Marcus stumbled along a player running from one end of the building towards the fighting. He carried belts of ammunition slung around his neck and ammo cans in both of his hands.

They both saw each other at the same time and the SRT clan member paused, confused, after seeing Marcus come up the stairs.

“The fuck you looking at?” Marcus shouted. “Get to your position.”

“Ammo! Where’s my ammo bearer!” Another shout came from where the player was heading.

That snapped him out of his confusion and the player ran by him, head held low. Marcus watched as the ammo bearer dashed towards one of the rooms where the distinct rattling of a machine gun.

Marcus followed the player. The machine gun bursts still continued, and he entered the room to find the ammo bearer linking the belts together and making them as long as possible for the machine gunner. They didn’t notice Marcus’ entrance, and he lined up a clear shot to the back of the machine gunner’s head and fired a burst of armor-piercing bullets.

The first shot shattered the gunner’s shields with the second penetrating his helmet and into his brain. The third entered through the base of his neck and severed his brain stem from the rest of its body. He died on the spot, his body falling limp as his face dragged along the wall he was facing.

The loader looked up at him in surprise and Marcus winked, shifting his aim and shooting him and killing him before he could draw his firearm or call for help.

The absence of the machine gun chattering its hate towards the attackers was apparent within the ensuing firefight. Marcus hid in one of the rooms as another player, likely their sargeant, came to check up on them not even half a minute after. He entered the room and witnessed the carnage before Marcus popped out of his hiding spot and added his corpse to the pile.

With three down on his end, the firefight was petering out. They were winning. Marcus could hear the reports on the radio as the Honest Scribes steadily made way and took out the defenders’ through superior positioning and marksmanship. Marcus now knew that he would rather not try to pick a fight with them if he could help it.

With the security detail taken care of. Marcus ascended the steps to take care of the main reason they were here in the first place. He ascended the steps to the top floor and was about to get up to the landing when he saw a head peek through the corner. Marcus snapped his rifle up to shoot and fired, only missing it a quarter of a second too late.

“Who is that? Is that you, Hartdegen? I didn’t know you were part of the TAS now.” Came a familiar shout echoing through the halls. Crunching of broken concrete echoed through the halls, getting fainter as Marcus ran up and out of the fatal funnel.

He checked the other end of the hall for any ambusher, but there was no one else. “You can say that. I’m a mercenary, remember?” he shouted back, running to one of the rooms of the apartment. Here, just like on the top floor of the scav building, the walls were punched through with sledgehammers, allowing easy access between each room and windows.

“I can see why you’re charging that much. You work really hard for what you're being paid for. You really earn every penny of it! Say, how much would it cost me to get out of this building alive?”

“Free! You can get out using the window right there!”

“Ha! Funny guy!” Another shout, this one closer.

Marcus didn’t peek around the corner, instead pushed his rifle around to fire blindly around. A round zipped where his head would be if he peeked, and would likely have given him a game over. Marcus’ only advantage at the moment was that if Demented was still armed with the M110. With its long barrel, and its selector set to either safe or semiautomatic, Demented would be hard pressed in using it inside buildings and tight corners.

“Three minutes.” Ylenka barked through the radio.

Three minutes. Seven minutes was what they thought was a safe enough time before the clan’s QRF realized the feint and moved to respond to the real objective. It was a very small window, but it was all they had, and they would use that time well. While the rest had to take out as much SRT members as they could and take their equipment for themselves, Marcus’ goal was to hunt down their best player, Demented, which was easier said than done.

The firefight outside ground to stop as the radio chatter reported all players killed in the fighting. They had won, kits taken off from at least half dozen players would hit both the clan’s coffers and player’s morale. Now, if Marcus was able to do his part, then it would do more than just shake their resolve. The death of their top player would damage the perception of their power as seen by everyone else. If they managed to take it down low enough, then other groups and smaller clans would gather like a pack of hyenas and nip at the heels of a wounded lion.

At least, that was the gist of the overall plan. It was unlikely that it would happen after just this operation, but with continued success, it would increase the chance of that happening.

Both men were silent as they listened in for each other’s whereabouts. Marcus’ electronic headset received a subtle crackling of boots on concrete nearby, inside the next room. Clothes rustled, and a click as a pin was pulled and Marcus charged into the room nearby.

His rifle was already on his shoulder, ready to shoot, when he caught the glimpse of Demented running out into the hallway, his pistol out. Marcus took his shot, sending a burst of fire his way. Demented’s shields flared, but were already in cover before more rounds hit their mark. He was holding nothing else but his pistol, and Marcus realized the source of the click as a grenade rolled into view and he tucked back into his room for cover.

The grenade exploded, unleashing a flurry of shrapnel that ricocheted off the walls. Some found their mark, damaging Marcus’ shields even from the other room.

“You alive? How d’you like that?” Demented taunted from somewhere in the building. The setup of the rooms made it difficult to pinpoint the exact source, which meant that Marcus had to get in close to use his advantage.

“Shifty asshole.” Marcus muttered and picked up a chunk of concrete. He crept to the corner where he last saw Demented and threw a rock from cover. Rounds zipped by his hand as he pulled it back then ran to the other room across the hall.

“Ooh. You got me there!” Demented shouted. “I almost thought it was a grenade for a second.”

Marcus didn’t reply as he pulled his own fragmentation grenade from his loops and threw it towards the source of the sound. The grenade landed in the middle of the hallway, denying the area and making sure that Demented didn’t cross. Marcus charged to the other room to see a shadow flash from the other room next to him.

He was running out of time. Either he would have to finish the job or just retreat. Gritting his teeth, Marcus thought to give it one more chance as he followed the source of the shadow to find Demented waiting for him in the corner of the room with his rifle. A grin passed through his face as he got Marcus where he needed him.

Marcus was too far in the room to go back and he had aimed at the wrong spot. He was too far away from Demented to try to make a grab for the rifle. Gritting his teeth, he pulled the trigger on his rifle and swung it towards Demented as he charged ahead into the room, too committed to back out and with no other choice but to forge ahead.

His shields shattered, and he felt a round impact against his armor plates. Notifications popped within Marcus’ vision and he did his best to swing his rifle towards Demented, only for him to run out of rounds. Marcus cursed. He hadn’t had the time to change magazines, and it turned out to be a deadly mistake.

Warning!

Shields destroyed.

Health critical.

Demented already had Marcus in his sights, and all he needed to do was take another shot to finish the job. With his rifle dry, Marcus let go of the rifle and dropped and rolled towards Demented. The rifle clattered to the end of the room just as Marcus made a grab for his legs and yanked. Instead of falling on his back, Demented controlled his stumble and fell on top of Marcus. He tried to leverage his body, but Demented was much higher levelled and stronger. His grip was like iron, but Marcus realized that the man didn’t know what he was doing in the middle of the scuffle.

Demented was on top and leveraged his weight to send a straight cross aimed Marcus’s face. Marcus saw the punch coming from a mile away and raised his guard to deflect the coming blow, letting it skip against his forearm and land harmlessly beside his head. Hoping to tire him out, Marcus let Demented keep his position and stay on the defensive, letting him give a few more harmless hits just to give him the false sense of him winning.

Timing it right, Marcus hooked his elbow against Demented’s arm as he sent another punch and pushed with his hips. Keeping his grip on the arm, Marcus used his own weight to leverage himself to a much better position. Technique won out in the end and Marcus managed to get behind Demented and tried to go for a chokehold. The amount of gear on their bodies made grappling difficult, but he managed to slip his arm around his neck in the end.

Demented tried to pry away Marcus’ arm, failed, then reached for his pistol in a leg holster. Marcus dropped his hold and went to grab his arm before Demented could get off a clear shot.

With Demented’s arm seized and the muzzle kept pointing at the cieling, Marcus leveraged his own body and put pressure on his wrist, bending it at an unnatural angle. Unable to hold on the pistol, Demented had no other choice but to let go. With the gun now gone, Marcus leveraged Demented’s own arm and twisted with just enough pressure to inflict pain but not dislocate the shoulder.

Demented screamed and Marcus held on for a second longer, only for him to realize that they were not in a ring. Demented will not tap out, and there wouldn’t be a referee to end the fight. With a grimace, Marcus leaned into the hold and felt something pop.

Demented screamed. “Just fucking kill me, you sadistic fuck!”

“Dude, I’m sorry!” Marcus replied, remembering how painful it felt when he dislocated his shoulder and released his grip. Demented rolled away, clutching his dislocated shoulder. With the fight now over, Marcus unholstered his pistol and aimed at Demented’s head.

“Dude, again. I’m sorry.” Marcus repeated. “I thought the pain filters were going to take care of it.”

“It is. I was just kidding.” Demented grinned, turning over. Marcus saw the grenade too late. The spoon was off, and was already flying in the air. It was too far for Marcus to slap away and so he tried to dive out of the room.

Critical Warning

Shields broken.

Health critical. Find medical assistance or bleed out in 14s.

Marcus was half out of the room when the grenade exploded in the air. The blast rocked him and showered everything in supersonic fragments. His shield flared from the blast and failed at the volume of fragments he caught in his legs. He landed with a thud and read the notifications. He wasn’t dead at least, and he pulled out a regenerator stim costing 50,000c per pop.

Item:

Phoenix regenerator stim.

Powerful regeneration Stimulant. Using a cocktail of super-advanced medical nanobots, this stimulant can heal any type of wounds, ranging from burns to femoral bleeding, even bring someone from the brink of death.

Removes pain

Removes contusion

Stops and prevents bleeding

+20 health/3 seconds

Debuffs:

Tremor (60 minutes)

X.8 Health (180 minutes)

X.8 Endurance

-90 Energy

-90 Hydration

Marcus jabbed the stim on his stomach and felt numbness radiate out from where he injected it. Notifications scrolled by telling him that he was out of the woods but still needed to deal with the fragments left inside his body.

“Fucking asshole.” Marcus muttered.