CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT - THE WHITE GLOVES

It quickly became obvious that we wouldn't hold.

The locals were fast. Police came in and reinforced the barricade, and then the local fire fighters joined in, rushing to the homes nearest the Synthcorp compound to help them evacuate, but already it was clear that this would be an evacuation, not something where we could fight back.

I aimed down the length of my revolver and took a shot that rammed into an orc, hitting him right below the shoulder and leaving a hole in his back that I could fit my fist through. And yet the orc still came running at me, dropping one axe only to raise another. He went down to concentrated fire from the police and locals.

The locals weren't armed like an army. They'd come out with a few semi-auto rifles, some bolt-actions, and lots of shotguns and handguns. But what they didn't bring were boxes of ammo.

Buckshot seemed to mostly irritate the orcs. It would penetrate through the thick gambeson-like armour a lot of them wore but I think the armour was still somewhat effective. It would rip into exposed flesh and a shot to the face could take one down reliably. The other range of bullets we were firing at them had a wide range of effects.

One old-timer had what looked like an anti-material rifle that was definitely not legal, tripods sunk into the hood of a sedan. When it roared, an orc went down every time. But some of the locals had little self-defence guns that didn't seem to do all that much, and their aim was... bad.

Yeah, there was a lot of shooting into the air, no spray control, and while we were making a lot of noise and that alone seemed to be keeping the monsters at bay, it wasn't going to last.

Orcs were piling onto the street, dead. I counted two dozen already, but there were far more than that just within the compound. Even as we watched, they grabbed someone, a wrestling techie in a company jumpsuit and hardhat who was squirming, and while watching us, they decapitated the man.

The anti-material rifle barked, and one of the orcs basically exploded, but the damage was done.

The locals were spooked.

It turned into a bit of a stalemate after that. Our rate of fire slowed down. People were rushed out of their homes, and a crowd grew on the far end of the street. Some locals in flip-flops and bathrobes, recently pulled out of house and home, and others who had come to gawk and stare.

There were a few that were being helpful, bringing ammo from the local general store--which apparently sold guns and ammo--and there were a pair of ambulances parked way out back, with some EMTs already tending to some folk.

No one seemed ready to charge in, and I didn't blame them.

"What's the plan?" someone called out.

As it turned out, there was a plan, and it was to wait for someone with some degree of authority to show up. Synthcorp had a security team, right?

And as it turned out, they did. After a long twenty minute standoff where the orcs continued to poke their heads over the fence and generally shout nonsense in their guttural tongue, the Synthcorp fast response team arrived.

A sleek, white and green helicopter with the company logo on the side circled the compound twice, then came in for a landing along a side road. Six people in combat gear jumped out, then they started running over with a pair of company men in suits and carrying briefcases behind them.

The soldier sorts had assault rifles, armoured gear in matte blacks, and from the weird shift in the air as they approached, I could tell that they were rocking some good magical buffs. No C-ranker, though. Someone like that would be obvious, there was always a feeling around them, and these six didn't have it.

They formed up in a tight squad, then... covered the two company men who started looking for anyone who was in charge.

So far, that meant the chief of the fire department, this wiry old woman, probably an E-ranker at least, who looked like she had been chewing nails for breakfast for the last fifty-plus years. They moved over, and immediately started arguing.

It became pretty obvious that things weren't moving along, so I decided to impose myself. "What's going on?" I asked as I walked over.

One of the company men looked at me. "And you are?"

"Concerned citizen," I replied, keeping my tone bored. "And a D-raker for Luna Corp. I'm passing through town, on my way to visit family. Saw this shitshow and decided to help."

The man stood a little straighter at that. "This is a Synthcorp matter," he said.

"This 'matter' has left a bunch of dead," the fire chief said.

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"We don't know that," the suit replied.

I stared, then pointedly looked over to the decapitated body still out by the compound's entrance. "Pretty sure we do," I replied.

"We're going to have to ask that you surrender any video you've taken of this event for our investigation," the suit said.

"Okay," I said. I didn't give a shit, and I didn't take any video to begin with. "So, what's your plan. You've got six E and D-rankers here. That ought to be enough to plug a C-rank breach."

"We don't know that there's--"

"Oh, fuck off," the fire chief said. "The girl's right. Why aren't you moving in?"

As it turned out, this team wasn't equipped for that. They were purely here to keep the suits safe. And, unsaid, they were here to intimidate the locals into complying. It felt kind of silly though, especially when the locals were all seeing red and a good chunk of them were armed.

Still, no one wanted to start infighting while the orcs were right there.

So we waited.

The breach continued to get out of hand. More orcs made a run for it, some towards us, others away, and those that ran away sometimes made it too. There'd be roving bands of them to take care of all around the town, now.

Things were tense for a damned long time. It wasn't until three in the afternoon, hours after the breach, that a team finally showed up to clear it out. I recognized them, or some of them, at least.

They came in a pair of all-white APCs, with roof-mounted turrets. The APCs opened up and disgorged two groups. One of six, the other of ten. The group of ten I immediately labelled as E-rankers at best. They had standardized gear, plate armour painted a shiny white that covered just about everything, T-slit helmets, and webbing for magazines and supplies. Plus neat little personal defence weapons. These bullpup-config assault rifles that were probably chambered in 7.62.

Two of them had larger machine guns, with ammo boxes and tripods, and one on the team had a stripe on his pauldron and a radio pack. The commander of that squad?

The other team was more familiar. Their gear a little more... mix-and-match. Less armour, more uncovered heads, or in a couple of instances, more armour, but not the standard stuff. The D-rankers. Six of them, and one immediately caught my eye.

Well well, if it wasn't Mizu! I wondered if she was still as angry as before. Her near-feral grin suggested that some things hadn't changed.

Some guy I only vaguely recognized took charge almost immediately. He called the company suits and fire chief over, asked for a quick sit-rep, then glanced over the crowd. "Alright people!" he called out. "The Storm Chasers are here, we'll take care of this mess and you'll be able to resume business as usual in no time."

That actually seemed to give people a morale boost. Weird. But maybe I was too jaded to really believe any of it.

In any case, I watched from the sidelines as they moved over to the compound, the E-rankers taking quick, precise shots to get the orcs into cover, then they moved in and were out of sight.

It took a solid three hours before they returned, a tense three hours that I spent edging away and mostly keeping to myself. The locals were quick to start handing out food and supplies, and more gawkers showed up to stare.

Then stories started coming in, and people were sent out across town. People were getting attacked in their homes. The orcs that had snuck out, probably a good number of them, were going around in bands, terrorizing and killing people.

Teams were formed, police and locals, and they raced out, trying to put them down, and mostly succeeding. But there were casualties. Only a dozen, but... yeah, that could be avoided.

Then the Storm Chasers returned, just minutes after I felt a shift in the air. The portal closing?

I immediately noticed that they had a few injuries. Some of that fancy armour they were wearing had gained some dents, and two soldiers were carrying a third on a deployable stretcher. One of the APCs moved up, and they loaded the injured into it.

The D-rankers looked a little better. Some scorch marks and sweat and plenty of grime, but nothing too bad.

So, a professional team could wipe out a portal with professional speed. Not too surprising.

I decided to back up and fetch my bike, then I rode out of town. I was gonna see if I couldn't take that shortcut back, then once I got home, it was a long shower, a short nap, and then a week spent minding my own damned business while I planned and plotted.

How was I going to come out of this one on top?

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