The Winter Tyrant

Chapter 100: Fish in a Barrel

The effective blast radius of an average 81mm mortar was around 35 meters. And that was more than enough to chew an enormous hole in the bandits and their assaulting force.

The blast was not an accident. In fact, the further forces immediately halted their snowmobiles and stared slack jaw at the damage.

To the perception of the raiders, who had relied on small arms and speed to force their previous enemies into submission or death.

Their tactics were crude and required less preparation and sustainment than sheer intimidation to succeed. Until now they had never encountered a force that was both capable and willing to resist them..

But they had miscalculated. And they understood that as they watched a large explosion rock the center of their formation before they even reached the enemy’s walls.

This was all the proof they needed that the assault they had embarked on was actually a suicide mission all along.

Some of the raiders instinctively ducked, others froze outright. A few tried to accelerate forward, as if speed alone could carry them through whatever invisible force had just torn their formation apart.

None of them understood what they were facing. There were no visible defenders, no return fire and worst of all... no warning.

Just men alive one second who were reduced to fragments the next.

The snow itself betrayed them. What had once been a clean, white expanse was now stained in wide, uneven bursts of red and black, steam rising where heat met frozen ground.

For the first time since they had taken to the wastes, the illusion broke. This wasn’t a settlement. This was a prepared defense.

One captain in particular who was already hesitant to conduct the attack was quick to veer off and ride away, shouting orders at his men as he did so.

"Fuck that we’re-"

*bang* The gunshot was loud, deafening, but he never heard it. His torso was blown apart and collapsed on the snowmobile that veered off wildly up a snow dune and into the air, crashing into the nearby rock now that its rider was dead.

Those men beneath his command stared in horror as their leader was blown into mince meat. But they had no idea by what.

Dean exhaled heavily as he ejected the spent 12.7mm shell and racked the bolt of his KSVK, ensuring the next round was chambered. He shifted the rifle’s muzzle to his next target. The illuminated reticle glowing clearly through the white phosphor clip-on as he aimed it down on the center chest of another bandit that showed signs of wanting to flee.

"boom...." Dean muttered silently beneath his breath as his finger squeezed the trigger. The rifle shaking just enough on its bipod and back into his shoulder to jolt him into a state of awareness.

The round flew through the air at supersonic speeds and blew the next target’s torso apart before he could even hear the crack of the sound barrier.

There was zero wasted motion in his movements. He wasn’t thinking about the men he was killing. Not their faces, not their voices, and certainly not the lives they had lived before this moment.

They were shapes, heat signatures, movement against a background. They were targets,

Each one that broke formation, each one that hesitated, each one that chose the wrong direction stood out instantly against the rest.

And each mistake was final. Dean didn’t rush; he didn’t need to. Speed came naturally when nothing was wasted.

It was purely repetitive efficiency as he racked the bolt, ejected the spent cartridge, sent the next round forward into the chamber before acquiring his next target, and repeating.

1, 2, 3, 4 more men died in the span of ten seconds. And once Dean had spent through the magazine, he did not immediately reload, instead he pressed his push to talk and gave a single order.

"You are clear to engage."

---

Aidan and his men were petrified after the first blast took out over two dozen of their men. And then the next few men who tried to flee were blasted into bits. They didn’t know if they should stay still, move forward, or attempt a retreat.

Luckily, they didn’t have time to think for long. Immediately the floodlights flashed upon them. Constructed from atop the bastion barriers, they blinded the raiders on the spot who tried to shield their eyes from the overwhelming amount of white light flooding their senses.

Then came a wave of gunfire. It wasn’t sporadic or wasteful. The heavy machine guns mounted in the towers acquired their targets and chugged away, firing short 2-3 three round bursts per target.

Their bodies exploded from the overwhelming amount of kinetic forced flowing through them as the 12.7mm projectiles tore them to pieces.

Few knew what was happening other than that they were being cut down without remorse and without quarter. Prompting what remained of Aidan and his men to turn tail and flee in any direction that wasn’t facing the gates of Elysium.

Naturally, the heavy machine guns fired where they fled, killing more than a few of the survivors of the initial slaughter before they could escape.

In the end, only Aidan and two dozen of his men had escaped from the suicidal attempt at attacking Elysium’s walls with their lives.

Once Dean had seen through his optic that the enemy were headed together in a single direction, he sighed in relief, ensuring that his anti-material rifle was properly cleared, before resting it on the edge of his balcony wall.

He shook his head before reaching over to his push to talk button mounted on his right shoulder. But he stopped before doing so.

Dean instead picked up his rifle and carried it inside. The hoplites knew what to do next without his constant micromanagement.

So he went back inside to inform the girls that the battle had been won, and nobody was in need of medical support.

---

Aidan’s breathing was shallow, his pupil’s were dialated, and the snow whipped across his face, threatening to lash him to death. But he didn’t care, he didn’t even notice the cuts forming across his face as branches snapped past him.

Why would he? He had just lost his entire force. Or what remained of it, and they hadn’t even been able to get a shot off.

"Damn it! Damn it! God fucking damn it! Jack was fucking right!!"

It was only after he no longer feared the shadow of death chasing him, did he finally stop his engine and turn around. To see how many men had followed him out of the crucible and into safety.

Two dozen, at most.... He was reduced to a hodge podge of men, from various different crews, few of his own among them.

They had tried to assault Elysium with over a hundred men, and this was all that remained. He cursed beneath his breath as he realized the state he and his men were now in.

His faction had burned every bridge, every resource available, and now they were effectively nomads once more, but this time they were nomads with a target on their back.

Jack was right... he should not have engaged in the punitive expeditions.

"We’re so screwed...." He shouted as loud as he could, his words revibrating through the air not expecting anyone to respond in return. For a brief moment, there was silence. No gunfire, no explosions. Just the wind.

Aidan almost believed they had made it. That somehow, against all odds, they had slipped through the jaws of whatever nightmare they had just encountered. A few of the men slowed to a stop beside him.

One even laughed, short, disbelieving, almost hysterical. But it didn’t last. Because survival hadn’t been granted. It had been allowed.

Eventually this dawned on them with a short, but terrifying sound.

*thump thump thump*

Aidan and his men had just enough time to look up in the direction where this sudden noise had come from. And there they saw a group of six men kneeling in the snow, camouflaged in with their surroundings.

It wasn’t the fact that there were men watching that terrified him, it was the weapon they were operating. But before he could even say a thing the rounds detonated around Aidan and his men.

The concussive blast filled the snow, tearing Aidan, his men, and their snowmobiles to pieces.

And in the distance, Zach sat there crouched down on the AGS-40. He aimed down the sights to ensure that after the smoke and flame had cleared nothing remained worth hitting again.

The scenes was exactly has he suspected. Utterly devoid of life. He couldn’t help but chuckle as he stripped the belt from the weapon, and ensured that it was cleared.

"Like shooting fish in a barrel, eh boys?"

Nobody reacted to Zach’s statement, at least not at first. That is until one of his fellow Peltasts finally spoke up.

"You really should see somebody, Zach...."

Zach however scoffed and shook his head. Looking back down at the blood, soot and flame which stained the snow.

See somebody? There was nobody left to see.....