The Reign is Over – Part 6
These last few nights have been a riotous shite-show of a sleep schedule.
I have gotten roughly 1-5 hours of sleep each night for almost the whole week.
I can’t lie to you, last night no amount of medication or caffeine allowed me to do anything other than stare stupidly at my computer screen not typing a dang thing.
Apologies that this post is late, but I will not have it be said that it was for lack of trying.
I mean it when I say that content being added on a regular basis is the future of The Quill.
The Reign is Over – Part 6
The roar of sixteen-wheels echoed off the walls of the Reignover complex as one hundred tonnes of heavily armed and armored officers under the command of the screaming valkyrie sometimes known as Lieutenant McNamara.
The enormous, triple-tiered marble water fountain complete with cherubim of breathtaking craftsmanship hadn’t been between the tank and the manor portion of the Reignover complex when McNamara had roared down the transport’s ramp, but she had overcome that minor detail with some deft maneuvering. The terrible might of the land-bound cruiser slammed into the fountain with all the subtly of a brick through a windshield, and was rewarded with a cloud of dust and marble fragments clattering satisfactorily against the front viewshield. McNamara let out a cackle of impish glee. Who says you can’t mix work with pleasure? The thought drew out more laughter from the woman as she veered back onto her original course.
The rest of the half-kilometer sprint wasn’t nearly as eventful. Lazlo Reignover was a smart, cautious, and cunning man who had surely planned for a moment much like this. It was in his best interest to let the tank come to him, however, and attack the troops during their assault rather than attempting to halt their advance. The amount of firepower required to slow, much less cripple, a fully armored and shielded ground transport would run the risk of doing serious damage to the ring itself. Reignover might be a tyrannical sociopath, but he wasn’t suicidal.
Lieutenant McNamara threw the tank into a spin, running the tracks in opposite directions to spin the tank around without sacrificing forward momentum. Reversal accomplished, she revved the reactors as high as they would go, and sounded the breech alarm.
The front ten meters of the elaborate oak and stone mansion blasted apart, spraying across the marble tiles and gold inlay of the entrance foyer. The hole was dome-shaped, the tank as the centerpiece, and with a slam and a whoop of alarm, eighty men and women rushed down the ramp and into the maw of the beast.
Lieutenant Armsworth led the first assault team, his arms held low to absorb the weight of Brutus as he swept the cannon back and forth across his field of vision. His second in command, a hawk-eyed whip of a woman, signaled for the leading edge of forty officers (mostly cadets with veterans spread evenly among them) forward.
Lieutenant McNamara came barreling down the tank, bustling to the head of the second party waiting to breech the safety of the shields. This was the most seasoned group, made up of combat hardened veterans like her, along with the most promising cadets they had managed to gather. She looked around at all of them, and they all nodded at her signaling they were ready.
Some of these men and women wouldn’t be returning from this assault. Unlike Armsworth’s team, theirs was the more dangerous task. Lieutenant Armsworth was to gather any personnel he came across. The assault team had been given temporary legal authorization for the arrests.
Lieutenant McNamara had been given one task: Find Lazlo Reignover and take him down. By any means necessary.
The group of veterans advanced, united in will, unyielding in purpose.
To be continued…
Tankfully,
The Unsheathed Quill
