Partycrashers

"Sound off," Flatliner Espiritu's voice was transmitted from the inter-comms radio. "Flatliner Team-119, in position."

"Flatliner Team-124, in position." Another Flatliner Team Commander responded, followed by a sound of static.

"Flatliner Team-114, ready." Alvarez spoke with a monotonous tone as they wait in an alley where the Rhino had dropped them off. The darkness of the night obscured the cybernetic elite soldiers from view almost completely. The quiet hums of their Spiker Assault Armors were the only factor that would betray their concealment to any nosy onlookers with the right tools.

But an unaided ear would not be able to hear it at all.

Alvarez's gaze remained fixated on the small corporate building across the street. The peaceful establishment was protected by the corporation's very own security personnel, with each wearing long sleeved plated jackets, cargo pants and combat boots in the colors of their company--yellow and grey. Their faces were covered by the brims of their baseball caps and a quick scan from Alvarez's cyberoptics revealed that the guards were unaugmented--free of any implants--which would make their termination easy enough.

But the men were fully armed with automatic weaponry that descended from the line of the now-obsolete CDR-15, which was an upgraded version installed with a trio of pronged barrels that could dispense three bullets at a time. Even their rifles' finishes matched the colors of their outfit. Personalized weapons among private armies were not practical, but for the sake of aestheticism, most organizations opted for this, but at the cost of a higher price.

The heat they are carrying compensated for their lack of steel and silicon within their bodies.

As tempting as it may be, the right time for their attack has not come yet. Alvarez impatiently checked the digital timer displayed on the bottom left of his helmet. A tap from his right shoulder caught his attention and prompted him to turn.

"Alvarez, we got a call from a Monitor." Santos notified. "Corporate-whores on attack bikes are incoming within five minutes. They also warned us that the bikers were on attack formation while escorting a BWalker Crew Truck."

"Acknowledged." Alvarez replied as he tightened his grip on his rifle. He glanced at the chronometer. "Be on the lookout." He cocked his rifle and waited for the inevitable.

Overhead, dozens of corporate aero-cargo crafts and lev-limousines that bore important passengers flew; their destinations was either the luxurious San Miguel Corporate Zone, the heart of New Manila or the industrialized Main Sta. Cruz Area. Alvarez had never cared for the elite living in ignorance but deep inside his cold mechanical heart, he developed pure hatred for those who had never bat an eye for the unfortunate ones drowning in squalor. He dreamt of a day when New Manila was finally freed from the grips of the elite, the Nobilites and the criminals.

He was brought back to reality instantly when he heard the rattling of chainguns as it spat rounds that perforated the guards of the establishment. With his enhanced eyes, he observed a security personnel danced as bullet holes tore through his body like he was a piece of wet cardboard. The attack bikes sped past the AmaterasuTECH building, going for a U-turn to perform another drive-by. As they disappeared from sight, a Cyber Knight-Class Battle Walker bearing the corporate colors of BlueWave Inc. appeared into view and engaged the retreating the frontline guards. A handful few fell when the Battle Walker opened up its rapidfire chaingun and launched a red-tipped warhead at the facade of the building.

In response to the attack, a corporate Samurai Blade-Brother from the building appeared from within and charged at the Battle Walker, its titanium blade rended the Battle Walker's chest while the latter struggled to aim its guns at the assailant's cyber o-yoroi.

A corpo-on-corpo battle; despite his attempt to ignore the sensation of fury in his mind for he was simply a machine with programmed orders, Alvarez could not help but to feel his wrath consuming him slowly while the foreigners desecrate his land without any care for its inhabitants. Why wage their petty wars here if they could just simply do it in their own territories?

"It's time we jump in." Alvarez finally said. "Commanders, do we have the go?"

"This is getting out of hand. Let's go!" Flatliner Espiritu agreed. As soon as the Flatliners had heard the command, they flooded out of the alleys like ghosts paying the mortals a visit. They took aim and opened fire, taking down the surprised BlueWave Inc. ground soldiers, oblivious to what had just struck them.

Alvarez centered his aim on the blue helmet of a corporate-whore and detonated it like a smashed watermelon with a burst of his weapon. His aim jumped onto the next one and fired for the second time; his target immediately hit the ground with a missing head. He drew his Fireblade and attached it under his Bushido-Steel rifle. If he could exhibit emotions, he was probably grinning in joy, especially when he caught sight of a lone corporate soldier in blue, running towards their Battle Walker to take cover behind it.

He rushed like a hungry wolf prouncing at his prey. The world sped up in a blur momentarily as he cut the distance between him and his target. With a swift motion, he bisected his enemy with a diagonal slash and watched him fall to the ground in two pieces. Before him was a ten-foot tall armored combatant--a Bodydropper in the Battle Walker--engaging a Samurai Blade-Brother in a dangerous melee without awareness to their surroundings.

Alvarez quickly switched from Bushido-Steel to Bishamon-FMJ loaded with .50 heavy armor piercers. He took aim at the Bodydropper since he was the most dangerous threat of the two, and fired without hesitation.

From his distance, the view was a spectacular fireworks display of sparking electricity, exploding circuitry and combusting lubricants. The Bodydropper yelled while his Battle Walker succumbed to fatal damages, his limbs enslaved to the neural link network now failed to react when a stray bullet from Alvarez's round severed it by accident. The Bodydropper dropped to his knees in pain and detonated in a bright orange flash.

The Blade-Brother turned in anger, katana Fireblade raised for a killing blow but Alvarez's aim was much quicker. The Flatliner pulled the trigger and filled the face of the Blade-Brother with armor piercers that nearly sent the Samurai's ravaged skull away from his shoulders. The circuitry of his o-yoroi also sparked and exploded shortly.

"Shit, you got Samurai assholes behind you, Alvarez!" Flatliner Santos yelled with a particle grenade launcher at hand. "I'm gonna alleykill them for 'ya!" He halted behind Alvarez and aimed at the trio of Blade-Brothers charging from AmaterasuTECH's ravaged building.

He fired his weapon; a spiked projectile was launched from the tubular muzzle of his launcher and stuck itself to the middle Samurai's chestplate. The last thing that Santos saw before the bright detonation was the red glowing cyber eyes of the Blade-Brother, pleading for help before his inevitable death.

The explosion was spectacular as beams of green, pink and purple light emanated from the ravaged body of the Samurai Blade-Brothers. Their bodies looked like as if it had been flayed horribly and left only bits of skin and flesh stuck to their skeletal remains. Parts of their armors also remained attached to the remaining organic parts, twisted, charred and dented. Santos was satisfied by his handiwork, but his momentary admiration was replaced by alert when Alvarez commanded him to "look alive."

Alvarez pointed at the incoming corporate speedpunkers in blue 70's Cyclops-Model motorcycles. He walked towards the middle of their Flatliner Team, which now began to spread horizontally. They opened fire at the incoming bikers, while the bikers returned fire on their own. The result was abrupt and quick as bikes exploded and Flatliners fell wounded.

"Flatliner Asuncion is down!" Flatliner Vera yelled as he lifted the body of his comrade.

"Take him to the Rhino, now!" Alvarez ordered. "Rhino C-114, standby for med-evac!"

"Affirmative, Flatliner Commander." A dislocated voice replied.

The AmaterasuTECH soldiers, upon seeing their attackers dead, now focused on the Flatliners in front of their frontyard. Alvarez and his team charged across while bullets rained from the second floor of the ruined building. He dashed behind a destroyed motorcycle with Dinozzo behind him.

"Shit, I could use a Holoshifter diversion right now!" Dinozzo yelled in complaint.

Alvarez did not respond as he raised his Bushido-Steel and fired at one of the corporate soldiers on the second floor. The target's heart escaped from his torn-out chest before he fell towards the ground below. Another precisely placed chest shot had finally relieved the pressure being exerted by the corporate-whores from above.

Flatliner Team-124 did their job clearing out the guards on the ground floor while the rest of the teams provided support. The mortals did not stood a chance against the cybernetic grunts of the Enclave Authority.

"Enemy B-dropper escaping from scene!" A Flatliner notified.

Alvarez and his team watched from a distance. Now it was Raven Dark's time to shine.

With a bloodied gut shot, she sprinted away from the firing. Like a wounded animal escaping her predators, she ran away, the gunfire slowly muffled by the distance. She was entering the borders of the abandoned La Loma area, a ghost region just like, Quezon City.

In accordance to her superior's contingency plan in case the operation went south, she was ordered to escape through the abandoned area of La Loma, the home of the speedpunk: Gang of the Iron Wheels, their paid "callboys" who would cover the tracks of the escaping corporate troops. The speedpunkers in question were under the payroll of his masters to give them assistance. They were already been paid handsomely to keep them loyal for a decade.

She saw a rider in red jacket with chrome trim, sitting on the maroon saddle of his orange Omega-Ducatti fitted with twin beam blaster that flanked the front tires. The rider thumbed behind him, towards a warehouse with a roll up accordion. As soon as she went inside, the accordion was shut close, bathing her in darkness while she waited for an extraction squad to pick her up.

From afar, Flatliner Teams-114, -119 and -124 moved in total darkness with the infamous Bodydropper Crew-882 or "Raven's Alakdan" following in tow. The Battle Walkers of the Bodydroppers had its lights deactivated to prevent their targets from being alerted. The rider that guarded the warehouse was unaware of the Enclave agents' presence. He continued puffing his chem-hash as if it was just another normal Wednesday night when a round had sent his skull to burst apart.

The other riders of the Iron Wheels were alerted as soon as the bio-monitor of their fellow speedpunker goon went dark. Motorcycles came revving from afar, which eventually arrived in full glory, beam weapons blazing hot. The Flatliners simply moved out of the way and felt like they were dancing Tinikling, except the bamboo could amputate them for good.

Alvarez crouched behind a crate, alongside Flatliners Santos and Dinozzo. They opened fire at the fast motorcycles which, without the aid of their implants, would have been hard to hit at. Their targets exploded in bright balls of explosion which cooked up their riders while they yell a bloodcurdling scream as alco-petrol cremated them in a slow but painful process.

The Enclave Bodydroppers provided a short burst from their anti-personnel weaponry before resuming with their task of finding the escaped corporate Bodydropper. Raven Dark activated his thermo-visual scanner and instantly found the warehouse where the bastard was hiding. He approached it and opened the accordion roll-up with a punch. Beyond was a Battle Walker with its chest cockpit compartment wrenched open, the Bodydropper piloting it is missing. In its place were IEDs made from three pints of alco-petrol, a bundle of chem-hash and an anti-walker grenade.

Raven jumped backwards, the bulk of his Bonifacio-Class Battle Walker making a loud thud as it hit the ground, seconds before the warehouse exploded in a very powerful blast...

From afar, the BlueWave Inc. employee ran with a haphazardly patched gut wound. She cursed while exerting pressure at her wound, which she sealed up with a roll of industrial duct tape used for "first-aid" Walker repair. Sarah Thorn glanced behind her and watched the warehouse detonated in a flash. Satisfied, she continued moving towards the extraction point where she would meet up with her rescuers.

Smoke finally settled. Lights emitted by both Battle Walkers and Spiker Assault Armors gleamed through the thick fog of dust that came from the debris of the ruined structure. A series of metal to metal rumbling was heard as the Enclave Authorities rose from the ground like cybernetic undead out to get people. Raven Dark stood with his ocular lenses directed at the running Bodydropper. Beside him was Flatliner Alvarez, glaring at the same direction.

One day, their paths will cross again. She wouldn't be lucky by then.