The plan he, Flak, de Vries, and Biggs had come up with called for a three-pronged attack. The frontal attack would act as a diversion to give the rear attack time to get into position. Truck five would carry Flak’s team, backed by some of the best reserve men Fratellanza had to offer. They were the third prong. If everything went according to plan, while the Fratellanza forces were crushing the vampires between them, the runners would be doing a covert snatch on Warren, provided they could find him.

There were four advance teams, and three long-range teams. The long-range teams were armed with high-explosive and white phosphorous rocket launchers. Their job was to pound the enemy’s rear from a safe distance, while the advance teams cut down the front flank.

Julius sighed as he pulled his helmet down over his face and strapped it in place. When he activated the thermal display, the truck’s interior turned a bloody red, highlighted in yellows where each man sat.

Julius knew that thermal vision would be useless once battle was joined, because the flamethrowers would create blinding tracers on the helmet’s viewer. That, in turn, would limit the men’s vision during the fighting, but it was a risk they had to take. Considering the advantages even the weakest vampire had over humans, there was no way Julius was going to send his men in there with nothing more than a wooden stake and a prayer.

He grinned as he thought of the one exception to this rule. Short Eyes would carry the weapon he’d helped her construct. She had declined anything else. It was a crossbow, but it was fashioned into the shape of a real cross, and there was no crank. Instead, each of the wooden bolts was powered by a jet of CO2. allowing her to belt-feed the crossbow from a pack slung over her shoulder.

Surprisingly accurate, Short Eyes could fire wooden bolts as fast as she could pull the trigger.

Over his headset came the voice of Biggs, who was once again standing up front by the rigger. “Three minutes to show time.”

Julius spoke into the integrated tacticom mic in his helmet. “Trucks five through eight, make the split at the next turn. Good hunting.”

The runners, having successfully navigated the rear entrance once before, were to lead the Fratellanza troops in. The corp soldiers would hit the building itself, which would force the enemy to split its forces and to fight on two flanks. It was a good plan. Julius hoped it would work.

“This is it, everybody,” he said into his mic. “Let’s get in there and clean this fragging place up.”

There was a huge concussion as the Mobmaster hit the first of the mines the enemy had placed across the roadway.

34

One cannot consider a discussion on vampires complete without mentioning their counterparts, namely wendigos, banshees, goblins, and the rest of their kind. While each have distinct needs and feeding habits, it should be mentioned that only the banshee have no actual need for blood. They, instead, take nourishment from the emotion of fear their victims feel just before death. That is not to say that all banshee do not drink blood; some do. However, it would seem that rather than needing it, they simply enjoy she taste.

– 

Martin de Vries, Shadows at Noon, posted to Shadowland BBS, 24 May 2057

While the other teams stormed the compound from the front and rear, exploding land mines as they went, the Citymaster carrying Sinunu and the others plowed toward the loading dock at the rear of the compound. Explosions filled the air as the Citymaster came within view of the dock.

Sinunu leaped from the truck, crossbow in hand. For just a moment, there was dead silence in the no man’s land surrounding the compound. She stared across the ten meters to the nearest vampire, a short, stubby man whose pale skin was covered in swastika tattoos. Even on his bare scalp.

A second before, there had been nothing but empty air where the vampires now stood. Too late, she realized the vampires must have someone with magical talents working with them.

The tableau held for just a second, then was shattered by a tremendous roaring cry from Sinunu’s left.

“Truxa!” screamed Flak like a battle cry, and let loose with his Vindicator.

The tattooed man jumped forward, covering most of the ten meters separating him from Sinunu with one bound. His movements were fast and jerky, and Sinunu didn’t have much time to wonder how a move-by-wire reflex system might frag with a vampire.

He was on her like a flood, hands grabbing, broken teeth gnashing for her throat.

Pivoting on her left foot, she puled a small wooden stake from the arsenal at her waist, and kicked upward with her right heel.

The vampire, despite his jacked reflexes, moved much too slowly, and Sinunu felt her heavy boot smash through his windpipe. As he teetered backward, she continued her turning movement, which brought her face to face with the vampire to her left.

This one was a tall woman, probably a former street Sam, considering all the flashy mods, but she seemed to have difficulty focusing on her movements.

Stabbing upward with the stake, Sinunu drove it into the woman’s throat and up into whatever she had for a brain.

The female vampire fell, the stake still imbedded in her throat, jerking violently as all her cyber kicked in and then shut off.

“You want to try it again?”

The voice was from behind Sinunu, and she instinctively knew it belonged to the tattooed man.

She turned and smiled. “You think you get another chance?”

With that she pulled her MP-5, and fired three shots quickly, aiming for the base of the vampire’s neck.

Before he could even blink, the rounds had torn through his move-by-wire rig, and he too fell.

“Truxa!” It was Flak again, tearing through vampires like they weren’t even there.

Sinunu looked over, and realized that Flak had somehow lost his Vindicator, but it didn’t seem to be slowing him down. He was tearing the heads off vampires with his bare hands, still wading forward, still screaming Truxa’s name like a war cry. Sinunu was also aware of the distant sounds of fighting from the front of the compound, and every few seconds, the ground would shake with the concussion of a rocket. The explosions lit up the night sky as the mortar rounds did their work.

Sinunu watched Flak for a moment, and could tell that there were too many for him to handle, that he’d gotten too far out in front. She glanced around desperately for someone close enough to help, then saw Rachel’s laser fire cut down the first of the vampires closing in on Flak. Sinunu knew Rachel couldn’t hit the main group surrounding Flak for fear of killing him as well.

“Truxa!” screamed Flak.

He was on his own for a moment.

Sinunu started running, jumping over the still struggling bodies of vampires that had been cut down and some of the Fratellanza dead.

The corp soldiers were doing their best, but despite the preparation they’d received, most were folding under the raw, maniacal might of nearly thirty vampires coming at them.

Sinunu risked a glance backward, and Rachel was there, exactly matching Sinunu’s movement and providing cover with her bulky laser.

To their left and right vampires died by flame and by the stake, but Sinunu was beyond caring about that. A howl rose from the direction of Flak-a blood-curdling moan.

A chill shook Sinunu and she froze in place for a split second, her entire body rigid with terror.

She saw that Flak, too, had faltered, his rage stutter-stepped for a moment, and that was all the time it took for the huge troll to go down.

Then the fear passed and Sinunu battled forward.

Suddenly, it was as if everything on the battlefield had stopped. There were still isolated pockets of fighting, but they were behind her.