***HNN News *** Update*** Breaking News*** With Priya Desai Reporting Live***

Mid Afternoon First Day of ORM Offensive.

Astania, Republic of Kazan

Eastern Suburbs of:

A medium sized woman wearing body armour with “Press” written in black marker on a piece of tape stood in front of her camerawoman while just behind her shoulder sticking over top a brick wall, a turret of a large tank could be seen. Reporter Priya Desai's face was dirty, fatigue and gunpowder residue accentuated the lines in her face. The only thing of color was the dirty pink silk collar of her blouse sticking above her body armour. She had a military assault rifle slung over her back, and several large magazines sticking out of the pockets of her torso load suspension equipment.

“Good afternoon! Priya Desai Reporting from the Eastern Edge of Astania, Kazan: after following the fight in and around the Embassy, we find ourselves this afternoon attached to the 40th Mechanized Shikari Tanks. They are currently deployed in the eastern 'Cloth or Tailor' district here in Astania. ORM rebels have infested the district and have taken over several of the city blocks. We don't at this time know what has happened to the residents here. If anything of ORM past behavior would inform us of their actions in the past 18 hours we fear most of the residents have been either killed or are being herded to another portion of the city as slaves.”

A large booming noise interrupts Priya, as the shock wave propagating from a 120mm main gun fired caused the debris and dust in the street to bounce and become airborne. The explosion was soon followed by the ripping noise of a large caliber machine gun firing off a sustained burst.

The camerawoman pulled off Desai, and showed the rubbish lined streets, and the sad heaps of dead humanity lying where they were gunned down.

Priya Desai gave a narration to the video being shown:: “The streets of Astania, Kazan are normally filled with children with big brown eyes, smiling faces and the invariable running noses, mostly caused by the pollutants from burning neighborhood trash piles and unpaved dirt roads. Gone too are the hawkers and peddlers of everything from rubber sandals to bootleg dramas from neighboring republics sold to the Hegemonic forces who have been patrolling their streets since the insurrection started. Not today however. Today the streets are deserted or sadly populated with either the dying or the very dead.”

A second video uploaded, showing local shop fronts were closed with their rolling shutters down and padlocked. Half of the buildings had the telltale pockmarks of small arms fire and scorch marks of high explosives. Cars on the streets were either burned out hulks from earlier engagements from the overnight and early morning fire fights from earlier in the day. Even the dusty yellow pariah dogs had slunk off to their warrens and were keeping a low profile, as the violence of the previous evening and morning still echoed down streets and alleyways alike.

“As you can see it looks like something out of a Bismali disaster film. Truly this once thriving district has been turned into a series of kill zones. Right now as I speak to you our brave Shikari Tankers are doing their best to clear out a series of apartment blocks turned into multi level bunkers.”

****

One street corner where old fashion cobbles had been paved over with a skim coating of asphalt two Shikari male soldiers stood talking, next to a war battered dun colored main battle tank, one which had most recently and obviously been in or had seen heavy combat. The older of the two, a Risaldar-Major clean shaven still smelling lightly of aftershave and soap, stood patiently, as he listened to a young twenty something Lieutenant, who looked like he was about to pass out on his feet. The young officer's face was lined with black powder from what was probably the burnt propellant from his commander's 14mm Caliber machine gun, or the Cordite gasses expelled when the tank had fired its 120mm main gun. The young officer's eyes had been shielded behind dusk goggles giving his young face an aged mask effect and both light brown eyes appeared to be two glassy orbs focusing on events which had happened to another version of himself a million miles away and or better still the life that had existed before he lived through his first taste of stand up urban combat.

-Kapow!-

A 7.62 x 54mm round from a Erensuge Atlantean sniper rifle skipped off the top of the commander's turret. A friendly little reminder for the Shikaris, from the neighborhood ORM welcoming committee. Neither man flinched. But they did, move a little closer to the blackened and scorched flank of the tank where a gasoline and witches brew of plastic explosive of an IMM had exploded alongside its armored hull, buckling one of the armored plates covering the road wheels and segmented track. All across the front of the The Rath MK-1 Tank, affectionately called Sand Pig Six, 'Suge' missile guidance wires lay spooled and curled dangling off its armored deck like naming day tinsel.

The Risaldar-Major leaned in, and with a gesture of patience and reassurance placed his right arm on the Lieutenant's shoulder. “Lieutenant Skavur... Son, why don't you start at the beginning and tell me what happened. That's usually the best place to start.”

The Lieutenant's hands were shaking as he pushed back the Kevlar crew helmet off his forehead and scratched the stubbly light brown hair and then rubbed his face. He exhaled a breath he didn't realize until then he had been holding, and in the process letting a whole host of flight or fight responses go, hoping they would run off to some dark corner and die, while he tried to marshal his scattered thoughts. Turning his head he gave a hawking phlegmatic spitting cough of sinus drainage from breathing propellant fumes.

Lieutenant Jimaden Skavur's voice drawled,“Well Risaldar I guess it started at Camp Maratha down on the west end of the flight line, after we killed off those ORM sappers trying to blow up our VTOLS. My Daffadar Chalm and I talked to the convoy commander, Captain Kitow and explained to him the route he had selected for us had a right angle where any of these jumped up ORM buggers with an RPG or a Suge guided missile could just shoot us ta shit.”

Shaking his head the Lieutenant paused for a moment. And he reached down between the two men where an olive drab green cooler sat, his Risaldar-Major had brought with him. Opening it up, Lieutenant Skavur pulled out an ice cold fizzy drink, popped it open and began draining the can, with his stubble lined throat making convulsing bobbing motions.

“C'mon Shavur. Get with the story.” The older man gestured with his right hand in a 'give me' motion of his left hand.

“Risaldar I don't like talking about the dead. But we tried to explain why a better route for our pigs might be to shadow his flanks while he worked his way through the intersection of Wazzim and Jandahar.

“And?”

“Captain Kitow well he got the same blank expression on his face my cousin Gupta did, when in fourth grade I kicked him in the nuts. He just went blank for a moment or two. Then he seemed to snap out of it and told us to get back in our tracks and quit fucking with his plans. And just like we thought, as soon as we got to the intersection and our forces were divided by the turn in the road, them Ourtai fuzzy faced bastards popped out ever damn shit hole sewer cover and behind every shack and alleyway on this road opening up with every dang small arm rifle they had in their possession; And then everything went to the nine levels of hell.”

“What do you mean?”

“Damn it to hell Risaldar, they waited for me to be on one side of the kill zone and Daffadar Chalm on the other. The infantry were bunched up in the back of their vehicles and they dropped an entire building down on top of them, just like Vishnu dropping his Gada, the Mace of Doom. It hammered them flatter than my old man's Nan. I heard the popping noises going off, I turned my head around just in time to see the explosive charges cutting through the building's columns and then bam! The whole damned thing fell on top of them, and then those fuzzy faced ORM bastards opened up with everything they had.”

The Lieutenant made a downward gesture with his eyes towards the ice chest.

“Go ahead kid. Grab another one, and give the rest to your crew. I brought them for you and your men.”

Pounding on the armour skirt with his fist Lieutenant Skavur shouted out, “Zeek you sorry excuse for a Lance Daffadar, get some of these fizzies and split them between you and Patel.

A tin sounding voice echoed up hollowly from inside the tank, “Wait one... Wait one...On the Waaaaaay!”

“Booooooom!” A HESH (High Explosive Squash Head) round translated itself almost instantaneously from cannon to the blue painted wall of a three story apartment building's third floor half a block away. The shock wave of the main gun firing caused the two men on the ground to vibrate like human tuning forks from the kinetic energy back blast ripping through the air. The noise caused both men to wince as their auditory canals were overwhelmed by ambient noise levels. The entire third floor opened up like a rat hole and the pair could look all the way through the building.

“All Clear! Take that you fuzzy humping SOB!” Lance Daffadar 'Zeek' shouted from the gunner's position of the tank. A smiling twitching mustache with bright green eyes and a head full of reddish brown hair popped out of the commander's turret hatch. “One less damned sniper to worry about sir!”

Smiling, the Lieutenant tossed upwards four cans glistening with condensation. “Next time you launch a main gun round down range give a fellow a heads up asshole!”

Popping his second can, Lieutenant Skavur took a sip and then looked at his Risaldar-Major who's eyes had taken on the dead doll fashion of a shark just before it bites its victim and said, “Sir it gets a little confusing after they dropped the building. I could hear Captain Kitow trying to give orders and I had my driver Patel turn us around, I traversed my turret back towards the convoy and saw his head pop right off his body as an RPG flew through his open window killing him and his driver. No sooner than that, some sixteen year old kid leaned out of a building and fired an RPG at me. Now Risaldar-Major you have to swear you aren't going to tell another living soul. The kid missed me. By about a millimeter or so. I flat pissed myself. The RPG missed my head, took off our radio antennas, my crosswind sensor mast, and hit Zeek's duffle bag and exploded. It blew his dirty underwear all over the street, and made my cargo rack look like the front brush guard off my grandfather's buffalo truck.”

The Risaldar-Major looked to the welded cage which all tanks have on the back of their turret to keep their clothes, sleeping gear and spare rations, and the middle third was bent, blackened and twisted like black licorice sticks after laying in the sun.

“Then sir I got mad. I got mad as hell. I can remember thinking, That SOB had just tried to kill me! '' I told Zeek to load a HESH round and when he said we were “Up!” I fired it point blank into the same window the asshole with the rocket had fired from. Then honestly I decided it was time to start giving some shit back to the folks who were so willing to fling it our way and earn my salt.”

Lieutenant Skavur pointed to where the smoldering ruins of the building lay, “I saw not one but two of them damn suitcase Suge Missiles come popping and snorting out of the second story windows. I remember screaming at Patel to kick the Pig in the ass and get us rolling faster. The first Suge missed us and took out something behind me. I don't even know what it hit.”

“And then Lieutenant Skavur what did you do?” One crusty gimlet eyed Risaldar-Major asked in a deadpan voice.

“Well sir it kind of gets fuzzy after that. I do remember asking Sowar Patel if he would please drive us right into the side of the building as fast as our tracks would take us.”

A grim flat look of distaste crossed the Risaldar-Major eyes. If his eyes were dead before they became two glassy orbs. “And what about our rules of engagement when civilians are concerned?”

“Sir, all due respect. I have seen all kinds of dead, mostly kids. Kids! Just laying in the street gunned down by these murderous thugs, and women spread eagle on the side of the road with their dead babies laying next to them. There ain't no damn civilians left to protest in this district. So I turned everyone I could into the grease for the road wheels of my track.”

The anger and horror at what he had witnessed caused Lieutenant Skavur to temporarily lose the ability to speak. His face flushed red and tears began running down his cheeks leaving muddy passages down his face. He grabbed his olive drab bandage Cavalrymen liked to use as dust masks and sweat bandannas from around his neck and swabbed his grimy face.

“The radios were shot to shit. I couldn't raise higher command. I sort of flipped out. I figured with all the damn goat roping going on here, all the civilians were either dead or just gone. Pardon the language sir, but I thought 'Fuck em all!' I flipped on my Barra Barra War Music, my crew and I got to killing as many as those murdering, raping assholes as we could lay our reticles on.”

A long tall man wearing the fire retardant coveralls all Shikari Cavalrymen wear, came stumbling and fumbling across the broken pavement. Long streaks of black soot stains covered his torso and body armor. He clutched his tanker's carbine firmly in his hands as his eyes tried to look in two directions at the same time. He instinctively ran from one place of cover to another, and in a burst of energy ran across the street still smoldering from the fire fight which had only ended 15 minutes earlier, only drawing up short when he came to where his platoon leader stood talking.

The senior regimental NCO looked at the new arrival like he was inspecting a trooper. His eyes gave nothing away, “Daffadar Chalm do you have anything to say for Lieutenant Skavur's actions here today?”

Chalm took his hand off the pistol grip of his carbine, slung his rifle over his shoulder and with hands shaking so bad they could barely fish a pack of cigars out of his vest's front pouch, he nodded his head as he tried three times to light a smoke. “Yes sir I do. It was epic. My crew and the troops that are alive right now would not be so, if it wasn't for the Lieutenant doing his own version of the 'palaya tandava' in this street. He brought the light of destruction and creation to those ORM assholes who ambushed us.”

The lanky tanker pushed back his crew helmet and scratched his dandruff all who wear such helmets get, and repeated “It was fucking awesome sir. Our track was shot to shit, when they mouse trapped us from behind. Our forward progress had been stopped by the building falling in the street. And as I figured out if I could back up, the ORM drove a damn carryall out from an alleyway with a pair of 23mm anti aircraft cannons mounted on it! They shot my tracks right off the return wheels.”

Turning to point at his tank sitting hunkered down in a pool of burnt pavement, “Look sir, our tracks are laying spilled out on the street like a gutted alligator. They kept pounding on my turret, which sounded like the universe's own damn jack hammer of doom. My optics were shot to nine different hells and gone. Two rockets or RPGs hit us or something in the engine compartment and we were beyond degraded gunnery mode. I thought we were done when a third rocket hit top of our turret and one of the blow out panels popped off over our turret ammo storage bin. We had spall flying around inside the hull and a major hydraulic fire. It looked like we were going to roast inside our own damn track, when Lieutenant Skavur came driving through a building firing every weapon he had. He killed the 23mm cannon crew chewing up my vehicle, and just shelled the ever living shit out of every single building he could put a main gun round through. He ran guard for us long enough to put out the fire and hand crank our turret around to give him some support.”

“And then what happened?”

“My crew and I cranked our turret around and shelled every single building on the right side of the road, and Lieutenant Skavur shot everything on the left side. We worked both sides of the street down to rubble and I guess when the infantry who survived decided to get their collective shit together and started rushing into the buildings we shot up, they broke the ORM. It dwindled off to what you see now.”

They did good. Give praise and scorn when needed. These men were faithful to their oaths, and earned their salt today. Risaldar-Major Hakka, thought silently to himself as the men looked at each other waiting for the Regimental Senior NCO to pass judgment. Smiling he said, “You men did good. In fact you did spectacularly. Sometimes you have to bring hell and damnation to a fight.

****

“As you can see, it has been a bloody knife to knife fight here in the Tailor district. I spoke to a Risaldar-Major from the 40th Shikari Tanks, and he seemed to think the Eastern half of the city will be under Hegemonic and Kazan Military control before too long. And I quote, “We will take this city back even if we have to destroy it to save it.”- Reporting live from Astania, Kazan this is Priya Desai HNN News.”